Chapter Thirty-Four: Battle, Part One
"ATTACK!"
Madame Giry's voice rang out through the foyer.
On her command, the furniture around her came to life.
Despite Christine's fear, the staff members were far from defenseless.
Or rather, they were trying to be.
As soon as they had seen the approaching mob, they had sprung into action.
While Firmin had been trying - and failing - to get the master to stop wallowing and fight, Madame Giry, André and Fleurette had come up with a plan.
It was simple - barricade the door - but it was still a plan.
They had tried to block the door, but when the villagers started breaking it down with a battering ram, they knew it was fruitless.
So they had decided to flee their post at the door and play to their strengths, lying in wait, as still as real furniture, while the unsuspecting villagers poured in.
Finally, Madame Giry yelled the signal, and the objects sprang into their surprise attack.
Chairs kicked.
Fleurette and the other dusters waved their feathers in villagers' faces until they started to sneeze.
Candles shot their flames high into the air, blinding some and giving the backsides of several unsuspecting villagers quite the burn.
As the furniture advanced, the mob shrieked in fear and the villagers tried to defend themselves.
But the castle staff had the element of surprise.
Standing amid the chaos, Raoul tried to make sense of what was currently taking place.
He knew how to duel.
He had done that plenty of times, growing up.
He also knew how to hunt, even if he wasn't very good at it.
But a roomful of furniture that could walk and talk?
That was something he'd never encountered before!
"Vicomte, look out!"
Hearing a warning cry from one of the villagers, Raoul turned to see a tall coatrack pulling back one of its "arms", preparing to hit him.
Raoul didn't think, he just acted.
Grabbing the nearest villager - a Monsieur Armand, if he recalled correctly - by his collar, he held the man up in front of him.
The coatrack's punch landed squarely in the cobbler's midsection.
Monsieur Armand grunted.
A moment later, things got even worse as a large harpsichord stood on its back legs and fell forward.
Once again, Raoul used the cobbler as a human shield.
There was a muffled shout as the harpsichord fell onto Monsieur Armand.
Raoul took one last look at the cobbler, then he looked down at the mirror that was still clutched in his hand.
He could see the monster standing on a balcony somewhere, high above the foyer.
Paying no heed to to Monsieur Armand's desperate pleas and cries for help, he turned and walked off, picking his way through the furniture.
He ducked out of the way as two small teacups blasted by him on the back of a serving trolley.
He moved to the side as a credenza tried to trip him, and then avoided falling over a small bench that barked at him like a dog.
Moments later, he was bounding up the grand staircase as the noise of battle faded behind him.
He kept climbing.
His battle was somewhere ahead, he knew it.
Then, as if to prove him right, Firmin appeared at the top of the stairs.
The small clock was descending from one of the wings, his expression glum.
"My, my, my, what are you doing up there?" Raoul mocked.
"Is there something up there?"
Firmin gulped.
He had just inadvertently given away the master's position.
Before Firmin could do anything to stop him, Raoul swung his leg back and kicked Firmin down the stairs.
As Firmin thudded away, Raoul once again set his sights on the top of the stairs.
Now that he knew that the monster was somewhere up there, it was only a matter of time before the freak was dead and Christine was his.
In the meantime, back in the foyer, the household furniture continued to push back the villagers.
Madame Giry poured boiling tea out of her spout while Marie and Elisabeth, riding Fifi, drew a dozen annoyed villagers toward the kitchen where Chef Potts was waiting, pots of grease ready to be poured.
As soon as the teacups were safely past, Chef Potts dumped the grease on the floor.
A moment later, the villagers entered the room and instantly began to slip and slide.
They fell into a pile on the floor.
Unbeknownst to anyone, a new figure was making her way through the chaos - Vivienne.
Though she wore her usual rags, she looked different than she normally did in the village.
Her face was clean and the hair underneath her hood was formed into soft curls.
She walked calmly past the droves of fighting villagers and objects, and ascended the staircase that led to the West Wing.
A/N: Please review to unlock Chapter Thirty-Five...