The End of Oz Page 6


I pushed the thought aside and blinked hard to will the image away. The tornado that carried the house was mine, but I had been aiming for Ozma. She provoked me. She cost me my only family. And Amy Gumm had cost me my makeshift one.

The Nome King cleared his throat, reminding me that I needed to answer him.

“I’m sure Ozma will do just fine,” I said coolly.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he agreed with a smile. “But you did better, and you know it. Oz needs you, Dorothy. You have a duty to fulfill. You have a destiny.”

I liked the sound of that. I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, but he certainly knew the way to my heart.

“You really think so?”

“I know it.” He took my hand, looking deep into my eyes with his silver gaze, and my heart began to race. He was so handsome, so powerful. I’d heard stories of his magic. His strength.

I felt something. Something almost as warm and glowy as when my magic coursed through me. It wasn’t his looks. It wasn’t even the gorgeous bracelet that now rested on my wrist (although that didn’t hurt). It was that there was no fear in his eyes when he looked at me. And he was also Wicked. Perhaps more Wicked than all the Wicked Witches combined. And don’t tell anyone, that was a little hot, too.

“I’ve seen it, Dorothy,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “It’s why I came to rescue you. You must return to the throne in order for your country to be whole. It would be my honor to help you.”

Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I tried not to let my surprise show. “And in return?” I asked sharply, although I already knew the answer.

“Perhaps a modest exchange between our kingdoms,” he suggested.

I looked down at my hands—one of which was still in his.

My manicure had been absolutely ruined by the collapse of the Emerald Palace. My knuckles were bruised and scraped raw. I was exhausted. But I wasn’t stupid.

I knew he meant much more than a modest exchange. He meant that if he helped me take control of Oz again, I’d be in debt to Ev—more specifically, to him—forever. But I’d been around the block a few times by that point. Handsome and magical he might be, but the Nome King should have known better than to underestimate me.

“Do you really think Oz needs me so badly?” I asked coyly, as if dazzled by his praise. (See into the future? Please. Even Glinda can’t do that.)

“I’ve foreseen it,” he intoned solemnly. His voice did send a tiny thrill through me. Even if it wasn’t true, it sounded divine.

“I never wanted power,” I said, dropping my eyes modestly and looking up at him through my lashes. “I only wanted to do what was right for Oz.”

“And that’s why you were born to be its leader,” he said, bringing my hand to his chest and holding it there.

He didn’t seem to have a heartbeat, but we all have our little quirks.

I pretended to think about it. “Glinda will be a problem,” I said, as if this had just occurred to me.

“Glinda will come around,” he said lightly. “She knows what’s best for Oz, just as you do.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. Glinda had been an absolute pain in my ass lately—and attacking the Order without me? As if she was the one in charge?

But I reassured myself with the thought that Glinda could hardly rule Oz herself—she was a witch, not a queen—and once I was returned to the throne, I’d see that she was punished for her disobedience. For the good of Oz. The Nome King and I would go over that later.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To Ev, where you can be safe,” he said.

I thought about this.

I might be a bitch, but I’m not an idiot. There was something else going on here, something big. The Nome King was not rescuing me out of some altruistic desire to see me sitting once more on the throne of Oz. And Oz might be rich where Ev was poor, but that wasn’t the only reason he’d rescued me.

No, he was up to something. And I was willing to bet it was something that was going to benefit him, not me.

However, I was alive. And more or less in one piece.

And surrounded by his henchmen, being carried—if not by force, certainly potentially by force—to a country I didn’t stand a chance of escaping without help or magic. In short, I wasn’t in much of a position to argue with him.

“I’ve always wanted to see Ev,” I lied politely. “You certainly went to an awful lot of trouble to rescue me, and I haven’t properly thanked you at all.” I ate another handful of sunberries, too hungry to remember to chomp on them seductively. Oops.

“It’s really nothing at all,” the Nome King said. There was a glint of menace in his eye. But there was something else. He was attracted to me, too. I smiled back at him radiantly.

Until I knew exactly what his game was, I’d play. I needed to know what the stakes were before I made any bets. And I needed to gather my energy.

The Nome King was either a very dangerous friend—or a very interesting enemy.

“I can’t wait until we’ve arrived,” I said. “But now, you must forgive me . . . I have to rest.”

“Of course,” he said. The glint in his eye was gone and he was every bit the solicitous host again. If he’d wanted to harm me—right then, anyway—I doubted he’d go to all the trouble of rescuing me just to murder me in his magic sleigh on the way back to Ev, so I let my eyelids drift closed.

The last thing I heard before I sank into a merciful, much-needed sleep was the Nome King humming some strange, old tune under his breath, and the soft hiss of the runners as we flew forward over the stone.

 

 

FOUR


We heard the creatures before we saw them, but we still didn’t have time to prepare. From beyond a rocky hillside came a rattly, squeaking din that sounded like a hundred rusty bicycles being ridden through a gravel pit. “What’s that noi—” I began, and then they came over the hill. Madison’s face went suddenly white.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “I hated this movie.”

“Which movie?” I had my back to her and was in a fighting stance, ready to defend us with our fists if I had to, but I knew we didn’t stand a chance if they attacked. We were too outnumbered, and we didn’t have magic.

“Return to Oz? It’s like showing a little kid Clockwork Orange,” she said. “Fucked me up for life. Anyway, those are the Wheelers.” Her voice was even but I knew she must be terrified. Madison was tough, though. I knew from experience that she didn’t flinch when it came to a fight.

“What’s a movie?” Nox asked. In all the time we’d spent together talking about Oz’s magic, I’d never gotten much of a chance to tell him about the magic in my world. The tiny television back in my trailer in Kansas had been a window to other places, including Oz.

“Forget it,” Madison said.

“Well, whatever those things are, get ready to fight,” Nox said as the creatures descended on us.

There were at least a dozen of the Wheelers—they moved so fast I lost count—and they were terrifying. They moved on all fours, their limbs stretched out impossibly long and thin. Each of their arms and legs ended in a huge, spiky, and rust-coated wheel that squealed horribly as they circled us. They were dressed in a crazy patchwork of filthy, bloodstained rags and richly embroidered velvet, scraps of metal, beads, and pieces of old-fashioned armor. Their clothes were crusted with old food and bits of meat and other things I didn’t want to think about. They smelled like death.

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