The question is: should we?
“She’s taken over Oz, and she’s imposing the rules of her own twisted morality on the rest of us.” Stryker spins the blades in his hands and exhales, giving me a look that’s raw with stark emotion. “She killed my fiancée. What else could I do?”
“Dorothy needs to be removed from power, true,” the other man says, “but the way that you went about it wasn’t right. We’ve all anguished under her laws; that’s no excuse, Stryker. If she finds out you’re still alive, the Regiment will continue to suffer.”
“Dorothy isn’t going to suddenly spare us all because you’ve slain me,” Stryker argues, but the old man has clearly set his intentions in stone. He’s not going to give up.
“It’s worth a try,” the man—Isaac, I think was his name—says with a tired sounding sigh. “I’m sorry, Stryker.”
When Isaac moves, he’s nothing but a blur, closing the distance between him and Stryker in the span of a single blink. Their blades meet with a clash of sparks, sending the hair on my arms standing up again. It’s there in the air, that wild energy, that magic.
“Oz,” Taavi begins again, looking over at me. “Isaac is the leader of C.R.O.W.S. It’s one of the oldest organizations in all of Oz, a collective of sorcerers run by wizards. If we fight for Stryker, we fight against them.” He turns to me, putting his hands on my shoulders and sending a jolt of energy through me. “I know you don’t understand this world, and I know you think you’re stuck in a dream, but make this decision as if your life depends on it—because it does.”
I look back to see Stryker and Isaac sidestepping carefully around one another, beads of sweat collecting on the former’s bronzed forehead.
“If I wanted to stop him … how would I even go about doing that?” I ask, feeling my breathing quicken, my vision sharpening to a single point, focused on the two men facing off in the middle of the dark woods.
“Isaac is a wizard—a powerful one. I wouldn’t be able to do much but slow him down. If you wanted to intervene on Stryker’s behalf, you’d have to use your magic.”
“My magic …” I start, thinking of the tingling I felt when I kissed Taavi yesterday.
“You called the cyclone that brought us to Oz; it shouldn’t be hard for you. I always knew you’d be a powerful wizard.” Taavi exhales, his black ears swiveling toward me as my mouth drops open and my eyes widen.
“I called the cyclone?” I ask, blinking stupidly back at him. I mean, this is all a dream, so of course I didn’t actually summon one. But I guess in my own narrative I did, and that’s pretty damn shocking, too.
“The power to control storms sleeps in your fingertips,” Taavi says, a bit of awe coloring his words. “If you wanted to stop Isaac, you could. But it’s a bold move. I’ve never liked the C.R.O.W.S., but we’re not exactly in a place to wage war against them either.”
Looking back at Stryker, I see that he’s playing this exchange carefully, as if a single swipe could end him.
“She killed my fiancée. What else could I do?”
I bite my lip.
You only live an epic fantasy coma delusion once though, right?
I hold my arms out to either side of me, like Stryker did, and then bring my palms together hard enough to crack.
The still forest air begins to stir, making branches and fern fronds sway in a sudden breeze. Energy crackles across my skin, making my lips tingle, and my chest ache.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” I whisper, and Taavi nods, leaning down next to me, his brown eyes both startlingly familiar and enticingly foreign, all at once.
“Trust yourself, Oz,” he says, and I grit my teeth, stepping one foot back, again imitating Stryker. For all I know, these movements have little to do with actual magic, but it’s all I’ve got.
Here goes nothing.
I fling my right arm wide, not totally sure what to expect.
I most definitely don’t expect the crack of lightning that flashes between the trees, smashing into the space where Isaac was just standing. He manages to roll out of the way, leaving the yellowed bricks blackened and smoking. When he looks up at me, his blue eyes are wide with shock.
“What in this hell we call Oz are you doing?!” he snaps as Stryker pauses to look at me, a surprised smile curving his lips.
“Well, well, this is a bit of a game changer, isn’t it?” He sweeps a low bow, his long black hair touching the bricks for just a moment before he stands up straight. “You forever have my gratitude, Mistress Oz.”
“Wizard, are you certain you want to do this? I act on behalf of the regiment.” Isaac stands up straight, lifting his chin in a way that reminds me of Uncle Henry. The edge of my lip curves up in a smirk.
This is like, badass video game shit. My older brother, Norm, would’ve flipped his lid to see this.
He also would’ve expected a clever one-liner.
“Fuck off, bro.”
Okay, so that wasn’t clever, like, at all, but it works. I mean, it’s succinct and to the point, right?
Swinging my left arm out, I send another bolt of lightning down, just narrowly missing Isaac.
Stryker takes several steps back, absorbing his blades of light into his hands, seemingly content to watch the moment play out.
“Where do you come from, wizard?” Isaac demands, his face paling a few shades.
My smirk turns into a mischievous grin.
“Fucking Kansas,” I say, and then I sweep my hands together again, intending on starting the whole summoning lightning process over. Instead, a huge gust of wind whirls around us, grabbing rocks, sticks, and other bits of debris that fly toward Isaac like bullets.
The old man moves like an Olympic athlete, dodging the projectiles with relative ease. The expression on his face, however, says he doesn’t like where this is going. Something about me scares him.
Not the first time, really. I had plenty of kids scared of me at my school in Kansas. Pretty sure I’d gotten a reputation for being some sort of dark witch/goth/anarchist. In reality, I just hate people and want to be left alone.
“Careful, Oz,” Taavi warns. “A cyclone like the one you called before will bring too much attention.”
“Isaac isn’t a bad man,” Stryker says, almost sadly. “If it’s possible to let him live, I think I’d prefer that.”
“Right,” I say, dropping my hands to my sides. That doesn’t stop the wind; it howls and swirls around us, stirring my hair around my face, my skirt around my thighs. “I’m okay with stopping, so long as you are. What do you say, Isaac?”
The man says nothing, studying me and Taavi with that penetrating blue gaze of his before stepping back into the shadows and absorbing his flaming blade into his palm.
“Oz, the Great and Terrible,” he says, his voice just barely audible above the sound of the wind. “I’ll remember that.”
And then he takes another step back and vanishes.
As soon as he’s gone, the winds around us disappear, and debris crashes to the ground. I exhale and shake out my hands, looking down at my palms and tingling fingers. It feels like I’ve just stuck my nails into an electrical outlet, like the power’s coursing through me with nowhere to go.
“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Stryker says, nodding toward me. “For a Wizard from Kansas, you’re not bad. You managed to chase Isaac off with just a small show of effort. Likely, he hasn’t seen a Wizard with your caliber of power since Ozma.”
“Ozma?” I ask, and Taavi’s eyes close, as if he’s in pain.
“Ozma, your mother,” he whispers, and Stryker’s eyes go wide.
“You’re Ozma’s daughter?” Stryker chokes out, sliding a finger under the collar of his jacket and then frantically undoing the top three buttons. “It all makes so much sense now …”
“My mother’s name was Hadassah,” I say caustically, but the look Taavi gives me says he knows I know better.
“Her name was Ozma, but she changed it when she fled to the
H.W. Your father was Jewish, so she chose a Hebrew name …” Taavi pauses, lifting his nose to scent the air again, and then curls the edge of his lip up in a growl. “More scarecrows are coming. If we get a bit further into the forest, we should be able to shake them.”
“That, and it’s highly likely that Isaac will be back with reinforcements. We really should make haste, shouldn’t we?” Stryker suggests, looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time all over again. He surprises me by speaking up. “Thank you, Oz, the Great and Terrible. I didn’t expect to live through the night, to be honest. And I really would love to see my guardian again. At the very least, I’d like to rescue him before the faerie queen decides he’s too much trouble and eats him.”
I can’t figure out if he’s being literal or figurative, but I decide it doesn’t matter. I can hear skittering and hissing in the darkness, and to be quite frank, this place creeps me the hell out. I just want to find somewhere to fall asleep.
Shaking out my tingling hands, I nod, because I’m not sure what else to say.
“Don’t worry too much about it, okay?” I tell him, our eyes meeting and sending another zing of energy through me. Ugh. At least now I know it’s magic and not some fucked-up hormonal attraction, right? Better than being attracted to my dog, I guess. “Let’s haul ass.”
We start off along the Y.B.R. again, Stryker’s glowing orbs following along to light the way. We each keep to our own thoughts, lost in the darkness. Every now and again, I see another one of those bright lights zipping through the forest, but if this place has taught me anything in the last two days, it’s that nothing is safe.
I’m not about to go chasing after one into the dark woods.
Hours later, when my feet are burning, and my head is pounding, and I’m this damn close to curling up on the ground to sleep, Taavi pulls me off the path.
“We need to stop. The later it gets, the darker the creatures are that inhabit the forest. I’ll find us a safe place, but you have to trust me.”
“I do,” I say, because Taavi Toto has been by my side my entire life. He’s always been there for me, through Uncle Henry’s abuse, through my family’s deaths, through puberty and asshole boys, catty girls, school bullies … all of it.
The three of us head into the woods, avoiding colorful mushrooms, and tiny wooden houses that sit nestled in bushes. There’s an air of mystery and magic here that both terrifies and fascinates me at the same time.
At one point, we pass a large pond where an old woman sits mumbling to herself and washing clothes. When my gaze swings her way, Taavi snatches my chin and forcibly turns me away.
I don’t dare look at her again.
After a while, Stryker grabs me by the arm.
“There’s a little cottage up ahead. Shall we rest there?”
“Assuming there’s nobody else occupying it,” Taavi says, seemingly resigned to the wizard’s presence. “And assuming that—if there’s no one inside—you’re welcome to join us. Just because Oz took mercy on you does not mean we want you as a travel companion.”
“Oh, come on, Taavi,” I say, smacking his bare, muscular arm with the back of my hand. It’s as hard as a goddamn rock. “The man lost his fiancée, and almost got killed by his friend. Give him a break.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that Isaac was ever a friend …” Stryker ventures, but Taavi ignores him, circling the log cabin three times before he dares to head up the steps. He knocks once, twice, three times, but there’s no answer.
Finally, he opens the door and checks around inside.
“It’s empty, and it clearly hasn’t been occupied in some time. I’m wary about staying here, but it’s likely better than a hollow tree or a cave …”
“Is there a bed?” I ask, clasping my hands together, and Taavi nods, slowly. “Okay, then that seals the deal. I’ll take the risk of some angry homeowner stumbling over us.”
“Whoever it was that built this cabin, in the middle of these woods, would be a force to reckon with,” Stryker starts, steepling his fingers together. I ignore him, bouncing up the stairs, and trying not to sob with relief when I see the carefully made bed inside. It’s just a twin, but it’ll do. At least for me. The boys will have to fight over the single chair and the rug, but I figure that I did save Stryker’s life, and Taavi likely wouldn’t take the bed even if I offered it, so …
“Dibs!” I flop onto the bed, and dig my legs under the covers, breathing in a sweet pine scent as I bury my face into the pillow with a sigh. Taavi takes a seat on the rug next to me as Stryker pulls the door closed and swings the wooden board into place to block the door.
“I’ll be watching you tonight,” Taavi growls as the wizard takes a seat in the brown chair near the fireplace with a sigh.
“Then you’ll be watching an awful lot of nothing. Sorry to get your hopes up, guardian, but I’m far too tired to make the moves on your wizard tonight.”
I smother a small laugh as I turn over and drag the blankets close to my face, sleep creeping over me faster than I expected.
I end up falling asleep to the sound of Taavi’s growls, certain that this time, I’ll wake up back in Kansas.
Even if I’d rather not.
The Ruthlessness of the Tin Gunman
When I awake, the sun is shining through the trees and Taavi has long been out chasing breakfast. He tosses a trio of dead birds onto the small table at the end of the bed as I struggle to sit up, blinking through the bright beams of sunshine peeking in through the windows.
“I can’t believe I’m still here,” I whisper, more to myself than Taavi, rubbing at my tired eyes with my fists.
“Oz …” Taavi starts, and I can hear the hitch in his voice as my command takes hold. No calling me Ozora or mistress, not anymore. He comes over to kneel beside my bed, shirtless and shoeless, the muscles in his arms and chest catching my attention. “Calling this a delusion was fine, at first. It helped you deal with the shock, but we’re beyond that point now. You understand that, right?”
“How old are you, Toto?” I ask, slipping up and calling Taavi slave again. Oops. I grimace slightly, but the name doesn’t seem to bother him. Maybe it took on a different connotation, with my little sisters giggling that name as they kissed his snout, or Mom murmuring Toto lovingly as she stroked his triangular ears back.
If she really was from Oz, then shouldn’t she have known the meaning?
“My age is not important,” he says gruffly, forcing me to meet that serious brown gaze of his. “What’s important is that you take this seriously.”
“If I take this seriously, Taavi, then I have to accept that everything I’ve ever known is a lie.” My heartbeat picks up speed, my chest tightening. “I have to accept that I killed a person by accident, that Aunt Em is missing in a strange world, that my mother spent my entire life keeping the truth from me.”
Taavi’s face darkens, his gaze sliding to one side as he considers how to answer me. This close up, he smells like woodsmoke, sandalwood, and magnolia. It’s an appealing scent, I won’t lie about that.
“Oz,” he starts again, looking back at me, a truth resting on the tip of his tongue. Whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by Stryker, swinging the door wide and appearing with his dark hair wet, his blue clothes striking against his bronze skin.
“Good morning, my fair companions,” he says, glancing over at the dead birds on the table before turning back to me. “Before we start the day, I’d very much like to offer up my thanks again for last night.”
“You can thank us by explaining all the shit that Taavi wants to know,” I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and forcing my mind away from thoughts of what if.
What-if this world, this delusion, this magic … if it’s real? What if my Aunt Emily is actually missing? What if I hadn’t insisted my family take the boat out onto the lake that day?
What-ifs are not productive.
I can’t do that to myself again. Even though some part of me w
onders if Taavi might be right, it doesn’t matter. My mind hasn’t been the most stable place since the accident. It’s better if I just assume this is all a dream. It seems to be working for me anyway, like maybe I’m just a little braver, a little bolder this way.
“I want to know more about Dorothy’s Ruby Trials,” Taavi says, grabbing the birds by their feet and letting their feathered bodies dangle from his hand. “You can tell me while you help pluck our breakfast.”
Stryker’s mouth curves up in disgust as he looks at the dead creatures dangling from Taavi’s fingers.
“A wizard never prepares his own food; that’s what guardians are for.”
“Only, you have no guardian, and you’re only alive at Oz’s great mercy,” Taavi snarls, getting up in Stryker’s face. He slams the trio of dead birds into the wizard’s chest, and then glances my way again.
“I’ll escort you to the stream; you can use the bathroom and clean up there. Stryker will start breakfast.” Taavi heads out the door and down the steps as Stryker studies the items in his hand, frowning hard.
“He’s a bit … prickly,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and wrapping my arms around myself.
“So I noticed,” Stryker purrs, giving me a lascivious little smile. “But all guardians are, to some extent. I can only pray you have the privilege of meeting Court one day.”
“Court’s the name of your guardian?” I ask, giving myself a much-needed squeeze. The morning is bitter cold, the crisp air and the crackle from the fire that Taavi’s started out front have me falling down the rabbit hole of old memories. It’s like I’m camping with my family again, yawning as I climb out of the tent, wrapping a hoodie around my shivering form as I pad out to the campfire.
But those days are long gone, and this is nothing like that.
“It is,” Stryker replies with another smile, watching me as I study him right back. There’s no missing how handsome he is, how dark and silken his hair is, how his tattoos are sharp and black, the perfect complement to his skin. He looks human enough, but there’s just enough weirdness that if I saw him at home, I’d think he was a master cosplayer or something. “He’s a felid, however, so much worse than your canid guardian.”
Very Bad Wizards Page 8