Dorothy Must Die: The Witch Must Burn Part 3

ELEVEN.

That evening, I could barely finish my dinner. My stomach was knotted in fear, and my head was a jumble of conflicting thoughts. Finally, the meal was mercifully over. When I was sure no one was paying attention, I slipped out a side door into the gardens. There was Nox under the same tree I'd hid behind to eavesdrop on the Wizard and Glinda that morning. His back was to me as he scanned the garden, on the lookout for anyone who might see us.

He heard my footsteps and turned as I approached the tree. "We have to be quick," he said in a low voice. "If we're both gone for too long at the same time, someone will put two and two together. It's not safe for us to be seen together like this."

"Why would Glinda suspect you of anything? What exactly is going on here? Who are you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You know who I am. You seem to know more about my magic than I do. You know more than you should about what Glinda's doing. You haven't told me the truth about anything since the moment I came here. And if Glinda has some plan for me, and you know what it is-"

He cut me off. "Jellia, I know how difficult this must be for you. And believe me, I'm not trying to lie to you-it's just that the less you know about some things, the better. For your own safety."

"What do you mean, about some things'?" I asked, my fear and confusion turning to anger. "Nox, what are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm talking about defeating Glinda," he said quietly. "About sending Dorothy back to the Other Place. About restoring Oz to what it once was-and what it should be."

Defeat Glinda. Get rid of Dorothy. I couldn't believe he'd said it out loud. We weren't just meeting to swap secrets-Nox was openly talking treason. But if Nox was serious, he couldn't be acting on his own.

"Nox, what are you planning? And how does it involve me?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jellia. There's so much I can't tell you-not yet. Glinda brought you here because she knows your magic is special. And she wants to keep an eye on you because she knows we'll reach out to you-and she can use you to find us."

"Who's we'?" I asked. "What aren't you telling me?"

"You'll find out when it's time," he said. "But not now. I'm sorry. I know it's a lot to ask of you, but it's for your own safety."

I shook my head. "A lot to ask doesn't begin to cover it." But for some reason, I was willing to give him a chance. And if he truly knew of a way to bring the real Ozma back, I would do whatever it took to help him.

I thought again of being at the falls with Ozma. Of what my life had been like when she ruled Oz. Of how everything had been different-and better. "Promise me you'll tell me everything," I said. "Not now-fine. I understand that. But soon."

"I promise," he said instantly. "When the time is right, you'll know. Now tell me everything you saw this morning in the garden. If the Wizard is back-if he's allied with Glinda-we have to know."

"I'm not sure, but I don't think they're working together," I said. I quickly told him everything I'd overheard of Glinda and the Wizard's conversation. Nox's frown deepened as I talked, and when I was done he let out his breath in a deep sigh.

"I wish I knew what it all meant," he mused. "But it sounds like the Wizard is refusing to forge an alliance with Glinda. At least for now. And that's good news, I think."

"What do you know about the Wizard?"

"n.o.body knows anything about the Wizard, except that he's from the Other Place. Dorothy's world."

"And he can send Dorothy back?"

"I don't know for sure. If Glinda brought her here, she might be the only one with the power to return her. But if he isn't helping Glinda, he might be willing to help us-and that could make all the difference." He paused, thinking. "Just keep doing what you're doing," he said finally. "Glinda wants you close to her for now, and I don't think she'll do anything to hurt you until she knows more about your magic."

That wasn't exactly comforting. "And then what?"

"For now, you'll have to wait. Listen, we have to go back inside. They'll miss us soon. Wait a few minutes before you follow me." And with that, he turned around and walked off through the twilit garden.

I sighed and watched him go, my head spinning. Revolutionary conspiracies, bargains with wizards, all these secrets-it was going to be hard to find my way through all of this to the truth. But Nox was right-I didn't have much of a choice. If he was willing to tell me that he was part of some secret group planning to send Dorothy back to the Other Place, that meant he was putting his life in my hands. I had no other option but to return the favor.

TWELVE.

A few days after Glinda brought up his visit, the Scarecrow arrived. He constructed a makes.h.i.+ft laboratory on the palace grounds and shut himself away as soon as it was completed. Glinda spent long afternoons holed up with him there, and sinister sounds of clanking and hissing emitted from the hastily constructed shack at all hours.

The Scarecrow never slept. He didn't need to. The servants took turns bringing him his meals at his lab. One of the girls didn't come back until the next morning-that night, we heard terrible screams from the Scarecrow's laboratory, and at breakfast the servant girl was dead-eyed and silent. Nox sent her to her room to rest, but when he asked her what had happened in the laboratory, she just shook her head and refused to talk. I knew Nox was as curious as I was, but there was nothing we could do without putting ourselves at risk, and so we went about our duties and kept our eyes open.

My days at Glinda's palace stretched into weeks, and slowly I relaxed. Nox was right: Glinda kept me close. After the day when I'd painted her nails, she declared that I was "indispensable." She demoted her previous personal maid, and now every morning she summoned me to her pink chambers and demanded I help her with her hair and makeup, lace her into her tight corsets, and offer her advice on which of her endless dresses to wear. Her obsession with fas.h.i.+on and her looks was even bigger than Dorothy's, but she didn't need my help. She had more innate fas.h.i.+on sense than Dorothy and she always picked out the perfect ensemble on her first attempt. After just a few days of composing obsequious compliments and picking up after her as she discarded clothes on her bedroom floor, I was exhausted-but I couldn't let her see it, and so I made my face into a mask of good cheer. Sometimes I'd see flashes of the other, secret Glinda-the lonely witch who'd let me paint her nails-but they were few and far between; and she kept the powerful witch who'd strapped me into her terrifying machine well hidden, too. I had to remind myself not to be lulled into a false sense of security. I met Nox again in the garden a few more times, but I had nothing to report. Other than the Scarecrow's secret project, there was nothing out of the ordinary happening in the palace.

If Glinda was somehow pulling Dorothy's strings, she was careful not to let me see it. She spent her afternoons in the garden, or holding court in her elaborate throne room, where she lounged on an immense, overstuffed pink chaise longue and nibbled pink bonbons off a pink tray. Messengers flitted back and forth between her palace and the Emerald City, reporting on the daily doings of the metropolis-Dorothy's elaborate banquets and b.a.l.l.s, her increasing number of new decrees, another statue erected in her honor. Once, as yet another messenger delivered yet another flowery speech on Dorothy's magnificence, I saw the muscles of Glinda's jaw tighten, and I wondered if she regretted her choice of a puppet. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her. Glinda and I had at least one thing in common: we both thought Dorothy was insufferable.

And then, one morning one of the Tin Woodman's soldiers arrived at the palace carrying an elaborate scroll, which he unfurled dramatically and read from in a deep, mechanical voice. "By order of Her Majesty, the Regally Benevolent and Eternally Beautiful Dorothy, Rightful Ruler of Oz and Mistress of the Deadly Desert-"

"The introduction is unnecessary," Glinda interrupted smoothly.

The soldier sputtered and cleared his throat with a noise like a teakettle whistling. "Dorothy demands that her maid be returned to her," he said in a more subdued tone.

Glinda raised one elegant eyebrow. "Dorothy demands?"

The soldier s.h.i.+fted his weight from one metal foot to the other, clanking nervously. "That's what it says here, Your Eminence," he said.

Glinda's nostrils flared and she lifted one delicate hand from her couch. For a moment, I thought she might blow the soldier to smithereens. But then her expression cleared, and she smiled. "Of course," she said. "It's been so wonderful to have Jellia here that I'd simply gotten used to her. She's been tremendously helpful." The soldier and I exchanged glances, both of us unsure if we were expected to respond to this. "I don't know what I'll do without her," Glinda continued, "but you may tell Dorothy I'll send her home tomorrow."

My heart leapt in my chest, and then sank again. I'd done it-I'd survived, and it was finally time to go back. But what about Nox and his secret plans to restore order to Oz? What could I do from the Emerald City, if he was here? And what did I have waiting for me with Dorothy when I got back?

Word of my pending departure traveled quickly through the palace, and that night he pulled me aside after dinner. I expected him to give me instructions, or some kind of message, but all he said was, "Stay safe. I'm worried she has something else up her sleeve."

"Wonderful," I muttered. "That's comforting."

"I'm looking out for you," he insisted. "Don't do anything foolish. But don't worry."

I nodded, but all I could do was worry.

THIRTEEN.

The morning of my departure Glinda summoned me to her room as usual. She was already dressed in a low-cut pink dress that was fairly simple-for her, anyway. Her eyes had a dangerous glitter to them, and my heart sank. After all these weeks of relative calm, the real Glinda was back.

She wasn't alone-the Scarecrow was there with her. His gangly frame was stuffed into his habitual too-small suit, and the clothes combined with his painted-on face, b.u.t.ton eyes, and the bits of straw sticking out from under his hat should have made him look charming and harmless. But there was nothing harmless about the Scarecrow.

"As you know, our dear friend has been helping me with a project that's very close to my heart," Glinda cooed. "And before I return you to Dorothy, he'd like to see all his hard work come to fruition. I hope you're aware of what a tremendous honor it is for you to be asked to help him."

"Me?" I asked uncertainly, and Glinda laughed.

"My dear Jellia!" she burbled merrily. "You don't think I've forgotten about how eager you were to do your duty for Oz, do you? We've been working nonstop all week to perfect the machine I designed that will siphon Oz's leftover magic to where it's needed most."

My eyes widened in terror and I took an involuntary step backward. "I thought the machine didn't work, Your Eminence," I whispered. Her brow furrowed with displeasure.

"Jellia, that skeptical att.i.tude is simply hateful, and I won't tolerate it. Of course my machine works. It simply needed some-adjustments." She smiled at the Scarecrow. "Now, are you ready?"

Before I could open my mouth to answer, everything went blurry, and I felt as though I was being pulled through a tub of mola.s.ses while trying to cross a stormy sea in a rowboat. When the world solidified around me again, Glinda, the Scarecrow, and I had been transported to a meadow of pale yellow gra.s.s, dotted here and there with bright red flowers that grew more thickly at the meadow's center. The air had the faint, ozoney crackle of magic. A handful of Munchkins were busy setting up what I recognized with a sinking heart as a simpler and more compact version of the mechanical apparatus she'd used on me on the journey to her palace.

"You know what they say, Jellia," Glinda said, smiling at my stricken expression. "If at first you don't succeed-try, try again." She seized my arm and dragged me, struggling, toward the machine, the Scarecrow following after us. "You should be very honored, Jellia," Glinda added. "Even though he's terribly busy, the Scarecrow agreed to come out and help me make a few adjustments to my magic drill. Isn't that generous of him? He knows how important the well-being of Oz is, and how much this magic will help keep Oz the wonderful place it is."

As Glinda dragged me closer the Scarecrow turned to look at us, his awful b.u.t.ton eyes glinting as he examined me like I was one of his science experiments. "This is the fairy?" he grated.

"Only part," Glinda said, "but she'll have to do." My mind reeled. Part fairy? Me? But that was impossible.

"It may not be enough. I've already told you, Munchkin labor-"

"Is inefficient," Glinda interrupted sharply.

"Perhaps. But it may be the only way to operate the machine."

"I didn't bring you all the way out here to give me excuses," Glinda said brightly. "There's no excuse for this negativity when it comes to serving Oz."

The Scarecrow shrugged. "I made the adjustments you specified, but I haven't had enough time to experiment. Another few weeks in my laboratory, and I might have something for you. But I can't guarantee this machine will work."

"We don't have another few weeks. Dorothy wants the girl back now," Glinda said, shoving me forward into the Scarecrow's arms. "And we wouldn't want to disobey the ill.u.s.trious ruler of Oz, would we? Start the machine."

His fingers closed around my arms, and I shuddered with revulsion. It was almost impossible to believe this monster was the same lovable buffoon who'd once-briefly-governed Oz before Ozma took her rightful place on the throne. His fingers dug into my flesh as he strapped me to a smaller, more compact version of the platform Glinda had harnessed me to before and fastened a metal collar around my neck. Metal pieces curved upward from the collar and ended in rods that he inserted in my eardrums. I couldn't move my head without impaling myself, and so I gave up struggling and held myself as still as possible. His eerie, dead eyes didn't even register me as he worked. He tightened the straps that crossed my chest and stepped away from me. "It's ready," he said to Glinda, and she smiled.

"Let's begin, Jellia," she said sweetly. "Try not to let me down this time, my dear."

I braced myself but there was no preparing for the agony that followed. Excruciating waves tore through me, each one worse than the last; the metal pieces in my ears were like red-hot pokers driving into my brain. Glinda and the Scarecrow watched dispa.s.sionately as I sobbed in despair.

"She's too weak," I heard the Scarecrow say as my vision began to go dark. "I told you, it's not going to work."

"Then both of you are terrible disappointments," Glinda said coldly. "But I'm done wasting my time here. If she survives, the Munchkins can take her back to Dorothy. I have no more use for her."

The pain overwhelmed me, and then I didn't feel anything at all.

FOURTEEN.

When I opened my eyes again the darkness around me was so thick there was no difference from when I'd had them closed. I was lying on my back on something hard. When I s.h.i.+fted cautiously, the pain shooting through my body was so awful that I gasped aloud.

"Ah, she's awake," said a gentle voice nearby, and the darkness was suffused with a cool white glow that gradually brightened until I could make out what surrounded me.

I was lying next to a clear pool in the middle of a huge cavern whose ceiling was lost somewhere in the darkness overhead. The cavern's purplish stone floor was polished smooth, as though by generations of feet, and its walls glowed with a gentle, phosph.o.r.escent light that eased the darkness around me and illuminated the person who had spoken.

I turned my head with difficulty to study her. She was the oldest person I'd ever seen; her body was round and shapeless beneath her sack-like white dress, and her face was so seamed with lines and wrinkles that it was hard to make out her features. Her hair stuck up in a silvery halo that wafted gently in the cool air like an undersea plant. "Don't try to move," she said. "You've been through quite a lot, my dear." The wrinkles around her mouth wriggled and s.h.i.+fted, and I realized she was smiling at me.

"What-who are you? Where am I?" I croaked, wincing as a whole new set of aches flared up in my body. In the cave's light, I could see what a mess I was. My dress was torn and b.l.o.o.d.y where the Scarecrow's harness had dug into my skin. My bare arms and legs were purpled with bruises and streaked with more blood. And every part of me hurt, from my scalp to the tips of my toes.

"You can call me Gert. Grandma Gert, if you like. But who I am and where you are can wait until you've healed. You're dying, Jellia."

"Dying?" I struggled to sit up and cried out as my broken body refused.

"Lie still." Gert's voice was gentle but firm. "What you've been through would have killed anyone without your power. Glinda's machine-"

"You know about my power?" I wheezed.

"I said lie still, Jellia." She scooped me up in her soft arms, so lightly that I barely felt the movement. It didn't seem possible that someone so soft could be so strong. She waded into the pool with me still in her arms. "This may hurt a little, my dear."

The clean, clear water of the pool rose around us. It was as warm as bathwater, but it felt thicker than ordinary water-almost like oil. Gert lowered me fully into the water and I felt it move against my skin insistently, almost as if it wanted something from me. I became more and more aware of the pain in my body-the pool was pulling it from me, bit by bit. I cried out in anguish and my open mouth filled with water; I swallowed involuntarily and felt a mouthful of the strange liquid move through my body as if it had a will of its own, worming its way through my veins.

I looked down at myself and saw that a thick, dark substance was seeping out of my pores, forming a black cloud around me that slowly dissipated in the pool. The pain in my body was slowly replaced with a warm, drowsy sense of bliss. Dimly, I felt Gert lift me up again and set me down gently at the pool's edge. The bruises and blood were gone; my skin glowed, and my ruined dress had been replaced by a thick, soft white robe. Instead of feeling broken and exhausted, I felt refreshed.

"What was that?"

Gert was looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. It almost looked like pity. Though she'd just gone into the pool with me, her clothes were dry. "Magic," she said.

"I figured that much out."

She smiled. "It's good to see you back to normal, Jellia. I must admit I was worried about you. We were aware you might encounter danger at Glinda's, but we weren't prepared for things to move so quickly. Come," she said, offering me her hand and pulling me to my feet. "It's time for some explanations." But instead of continuing to talk, she took off at a brisk pace. I had no choice but to follow her as she led me away from the healing pool and down a bewildering series of tunnels, all lit by the same glowing phosph.o.r.escence that seeped out of the walls.

Sometimes the tunnels opened up into more caverns, each one of them full of marvels: a s.h.i.+mmering, underground meadow, radiating silver light and dotted here and there with towering wildflowers that rose into the darkness; another pool, this one so big I couldn't make out its far side, where bright golden fish jumped and fell back into the water with a splash; a series of mysterious, enormous machines, which sent a shard of terror stabbing through me until I realized they were putting together elaborate clocks that slid past on a conveyor belt.

We were moving too fast for me to catch more than the briefest glimpse of each cavern before Gert dragged me along to the next tunnel. Finally, she stopped at a low wooden door, rapped sharply, and pushed it open without waiting for a response. I followed her into a smallish room, furnished with a huge black table and rough wooden chairs that took up most of the s.p.a.ce. Three people sat at the table: a cloaked figure, a mean-looking old woman I didn't recognize, and Nox, whose expression was distinctly worried.