CONTENTS
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Excerpt from The Witch Must Burn
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About the Author
Books by Danielle Paige
Copyright
About the Publisher
ONE
Polly was bored and lonely. Again. She looked out through the Rainbow Citadel’s clear crystal walls at the brilliant multicolored light of Rainbow Falls. She saw countless floating islands ranging in size from as small as her pet unicorn, Heathcliff, to two or three times the size of the entire Rainbow Citadel. Dozens of her guests sunned themselves on the island’s rainbow-hued sand beaches, sipping jewel-colored cocktails and snacking on sunlight puffs and prism pastries. Rainbow Falls’s Sprite staff, each wearing his or her own version of the informal Rainbow Falls uniform (wispy, ephemeral scarves wrapped like saris or fluttering behind them loosely on the warm, tropical breeze, revealing a considerable amount of tanned, toned flesh), carried piled-high platters of sunfruit and cloud bread. Half of them had sat down themselves to nibble at their wares or take heavy pulls on flasks of glowing light liquor.
Polly yawned and looked away. Rainbow Falls was the most popular tourist destination in Oz. The guests slept in hovering hammocks sheltered by huge trees with broad emerald leaves that deflected even the worst of the rainbow monsoons. The balmy, tropical air never changed temperature. Sunfruit grew on trees and cloud bread floated through the air in clusters that were easy to break apart anytime you needed a snack. And pools of rainbow light lapped against the warm sand beaches. Everybody was always happy in Rainbow Falls, because Rainbow Falls was paradise.
But being happy all the time, Polly reflected, wasn’t quite the same thing as having companionship. Or much to do. Because even though Polly was officially in charge of Rainbow Falls, everything just kind of ran itself.
“Don’t you think it’s strange to see so little of your subjects?” Ozma asked.
“What?” Polly turned around to face her cousin. She lit a rainbow husk cigarette, exhaling a long plume of multicolored, lavender-scented smoke that Ozma waved away irritably. “They’re good for you,” Polly said, rolling her eyes.
“They make you a lazy space cadet, Pol,” Ozma said.
“I’m not lazy,” Polly said. She and Ozma were cousins, the way that all fairies were cousins. She loved Ozma, of course, but sometimes she could have sworn that Ozma brought out the absolute worst in her. In addition to being the Queen of Oz, she was a total square. Ozma was just so serious about her responsibilities all the time, which made her kind of a drag. “We’re fairies, Ozma. We’re supposed to be laughing and dancing and free. We’re supposed to rule like the tides rule the sea.” So maybe Polly was a little spacey, but that had nothing to do with rainbow husk smoke. She was just a free spirit. She’d inherited the role of ruling Rainbow Falls, but following the rules wasn’t really her thing.
Neither was staying in one place.
“I don’t understand why you won’t come with me to Munchkin Country for the dazzleberry cordial festival,” Polly said, changing the subject. “It’ll be fun. I’m going to go dancing every night. Last year I met this supercute farmer and we spent the whole weekend—”
“Like I said, I can’t believe you just take off all the time,” Ozma said severely. “You’re supposed to be running a kingdom, Pol. Everything we are is about taking care of this place. Like a garden, not an ocean. I see my subjects nearly every day. I ask them about their concerns. I think about new laws that will help better their lives. I worry about the health of Oz. But you just . . .” Ozma waved a hand dismissively.
“My subjects are fine, Ozma,” Polly said, blowing another plume of smoke at the crystal window. “Look at them. Do they seem unhappy to you? They don’t notice whether I’m here or not.”
Ozma shook her head, but then she smiled. “I don’t want to fight about it,” she said. “Let’s just spend some time together and enjoy ourselves until I have to go back to the Emerald City.”
Polly smiled in relief. “Your wish is my command,” she said. “Want to hit the beaches again?”
“Sure,” Ozma said. “That sounds great. Maybe I can even get a tan.”
But as Polly gathered up her beach gear—translucent caftan, basket of snacks, and a blanket woven from cloud silk—she tried not to let Ozma see her face. She knew what would actually happen as soon as they settled down on some isolated, flawless beach: Ozma would get an important message from the capital and dash off, leaving Polly to bask alone in the tropical Rainbow Falls sun. It happened every time Ozma came to visit—which wasn’t very often, and Polly was surprised she’d even gotten Ozma up here this time—and Polly was tired of it. Tired of Ozma’s nagging, tired of looking for things in common with her uptight cousin, tired of defending her freedom-loving ways.
The truth was, Ozma didn’t know how to have fun. And at the end of the day, she and Polly were nothing alike, no matter how hard Polly tried to enjoy herself with her cousin.
She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, concentrating on the sound of distant waves.
“What are you doing?”
“I was meditating,” Polly said. Ozma was so literal. It was exhausting.
Annoyed despite herself, Polly led Ozma to her absolute favorite beach. Parasol trees floated a few inches over the swirling, rainbow-colored sand. A pool of blue light lapped gently against the shore. Polly threw down her gauzy caftan as Ozma politely averted her eyes—as if Polly cared who saw her naked, she thought—and in a clean, graceful arc, dove into the blue light. She somersaulted lazily and then surfaced again, flicking drops of blue light out of her eyes. “Come on in, it’s perfect,” she urged Ozma. But of course, no sooner had Ozma spread her blanket out over the gleaming, pristine sand than a big, gold-winged butterfly popped into being overhead. “An urgent message for Her Majesty Queen Ozma!” it squeaked.
Ozma jumped to her feet. “I’m here,” she said.
A gold-hinged door on the butterfly’s chest swung open and a scroll of white paper emerged with a clicking noise. Ozma reached forward to take it as letters in a loopy, sprawling cursive appeared on the page. Ozma scanned the document quickly.
“I’m sorry, Pol, I gotta go. The Nixies are in a fight with their neighbors, and it’ll probably get messy.” Ozma made a face. “Water rights, you know? Someone has to set the boundaries in the Silver Sea.” She frowned again. “It’s weird, though. Ever since Dorothy Gale came back to Oz, things have been different in a way I can’t totally explain. I’ve spent a lot of time with her, and she’s a sweet girl. But I don’t think she’s been completely honest with me. And she treats her own aunt and uncle as though she can’t wait to be rid of them. It’s almost like she’s . . . are you even listening to me?”
“Mmmm,” Polly said. “Dorothy. Sounds stressful.” She’d known as soon as she saw the butterfly what was coming. She closed her eyes and leaned backward until she floated on her back, bobbing gently. “You can’t hang out a little longer?” But she already knew what her cousin’s answer would be.
“It is stressful, Pol. It’s more than that. It could be something serious. I’m sure she has the good of Oz in mind, but there’s something up with her, and I’m going to find out what it is. You know, Pol—”
She stopped.
“What?” Polly asked, not opening her eyes. She had a feeling she knew what was coming next.
Sure enough, Ozma took a deep breath. It was her “I’m about to launch into a monologue about your responsibilities as a ruler” deep breath. Polly sighed and
squeezed her eyes shut more tightly. And waited.
“It was nice to see you,” Ozma said finally instead. Polly opened one eye. Her cousin’s expression was rueful. As if she knew what Polly thought of her constant nagging.
“It was nice to see you, too,” Polly said. She meant it. No matter how different she was from her cousin, she still loved Ozma. She just wished Ozma could be a friend. Like, a real friend. Not just someone you hung out with because you were related to them. Someone who really got her. Who knew how to have fun. “Good luck with the Pixies or whatever.”
“Nixies.”
“Nixies. Right. The water ones.” Polly yawned and Ozma laughed.
“You’re impossible, Pol,” Ozma said, but there was real affection in her voice.
“I know,” Polly said. With a pop and a flash of light, Ozma disappeared.
If Polly had known that was the last time she’d ever see her cousin—her cousin as she really was, anyway—she would have pushed harder for the Munchkin holiday. Instead, she flicked a crystal droplet of rainbow with one finger. It chimed like a wineglass. “Bring me my unicorn,” she said, leaning back and drifting off. As soon as she’d had a little nap, she’d set off for Munchkin Country. Maybe she’d send Ozma a postcard. If she remembered. Which, admittedly, she wasn’t so great at.
“One unicorn, coming right up,” said an unfamiliar voice. Polly sat up, treading rainbows. “You know he’s a panther, right?”
“Who are you?” Polly asked. “You’re not one of the Rainbow Falls attendants. If you are, you forgot your uniform. And I’ll thank you not to insult my unicorn.”
“Bright, at your service,” said the stranger. He was good-looking in a storybook kind of way: white-blond ringlets, pale gray eyes, pillowy lips that looked like they’d been designed especially for kissing. Very intriguing. Polly fluttered her eyelashes at him and he winked. “I was hoping we could figure out some kind of a work trade.” Heathcliff was winding around Bright’s legs, purring.
“Give me back my unicorn and tell me who you are,” Polly said, trying to sound severe. She didn’t like random strangers showing up at her favorite private beach and wooing her unicorn. Even if they were incredibly good-looking and extremely fit random strangers.
Bright scratched Heathcliff behind the ears. Heathcliff’s purr intensified. “I think he likes me,” Bright said. “And I already told you, my name is Bright.”
“What kind of name is that?” Polly asked suspiciously.
“What kind of name is Polychrome?” he countered with a saucy grin. “You’d have to ask my parents, I guess. But to do that, you’d have to find them.”
Polly narrowed her eyes, pretending to be miffed. “Heathcliff is extremely dangerous. I’d advise you to give him back.”
Bright scratched under Heathcliff’s chin. Heathcliff closed his eyes in ecstasy. “Yeah, he’s terrifying. So, about that work trade? I was hoping I could, you know, help out around the place. Clean the Rainbow Pools. Whatever you want.”
“In exchange for what?”
“A place to stay. Some surf time.” Bright gestured in the direction of Indigo Beach, where the waves were legendary. “I’ve wanted to come here my whole life, but resort wear isn’t really my thing. And to be honest, I’m broke.”
“I don’t need a pool boy,” Polly said.
“Baby, everybody needs someone. But I’ll start with the pool.”
His voice sounded serious all of a sudden. Poly didn’t do serious. People came to the Falls and fell in love with her instantly on a regular basis. It was because she didn’t look like anyone else in Oz, and because she was part fairy. The beautiful boy didn’t stand a chance, really.
“The Falls have everything I need. Didn’t you hear, this is paradise?”
But then he said something that she had never heard before. Not from any of the Sprites. Not from Ozma.
“I bet it’s hard work being in charge of all this happiness. If you ever need—” he began.
“Help? I could manage Rainbow Falls in my sleep. I breathe fun.”
“Yes, you do,” he said appreciatively, “but I was going to say if you ever need company . . .”
Sprites, Munchkins, Gillikins, there was a line around the Falls for her attentions. Despite Bright’s bravado, there was something genuine about him. He made it sound like she was the one who might need company, but Polly wondered if it was the other way around.
“I have plenty of company,” she was about to say, considering bringing a Sprite over to kiss her as proof. But instead, she smiled wider and said, “I bet you can’t manage the waves out there.”
“I can handle myself.” He was cocky. But he had a surfer’s build, lean and broad-shouldered, every muscle clearly defined. Maybe he didn’t know what he was getting into; maybe he did. Either way, it wasn’t Polly’s problem. She didn’t make rules in her kingdom.
“Do we have a deal?”
He was arrogant. That was for sure. He was also flirting with her. And he was really, really cute. And she hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Besides, he seemed sort of lost, sort of sad. She didn’t hate the idea of cheering him up.
“Fine,” she said with an exaggerated sigh and roll of her eyes, and his grin got bigger.
Let him think he’d won this round. Polly was an old hand at this game.
Suddenly that trip to Munchkin Country didn’t seem so urgent after all.
TWO
To her surprise, Bright was as good as his word. Most boys who looked like him were not promise keepers. After she agreed to let him stay on at Rainbow Falls, she didn’t see much of him at first. The Sprites told her he woke up at dawn to catch the biggest waves at Indigo Beach, then spent the late morning and early afternoon doing the kinds of chores no one else wanted to—cleaning out the resort rooms after families left them in a state of total wreckage, scrubbing up after a whole bachelorette party drank too much sunfruit liquor and was sick all over the second-best, reservation-only banquet hall, even scooping out Heathcliff’s sandbox. And then Bright went surfing again until long after the sun set, paddling out in the amethyst glow of the beach itself. But Polly had plenty to keep her busy: there was her daily swim in the Emerald Pool, one of the seven Rainbow Pools, followed by her tanning session. There was sunfruit to snack on and rainbow husks to smoke. Heathcliff always needed brushing. Naps needed taking, and the best-looking Sprites needed kissing.
But whenever she saw Bright in person, she remembered the spark between them. And she knew he remembered it, too. He might have come to Rainbow Falls to surf, but he was staying because of her. Most boys just wanted her. Polly got the feeling he needed her.
And then one night after Bright had been in Rainbow Falls for a week, or two, or three—Polly wasn’t the greatest at keeping track of time—she lay tossing and turning in her rainbow hammock, completely unable to sleep. Heathcliff, curled up on a soft patch of vermilion grass below her, was snoring softly. His cardboard horn was crooked; he must have pawed at it in his sleep. Polly grabbed a pale, translucent robe of rainbow silk and her surfboard and slid out of the hammock, careful not to wake Heathcliff, and headed in the direction of Indigo Beach.
The full moon was out—it was always out in Rainbow Falls, unless Polly wanted to see the stars—and hanging low and huge in the sky. The sand beaches sparkled in its cool silver light. A soft, balmy breeze rustled the fronds of the dream trees; here and there flowers swelled and burst, releasing puffs of sweet-smelling smoke that formed tiny, intricate scenes of other places, real and imagined. The faint sound of bongos and harmonizing voices carried across the island; the Sprites were at another late-night jam session, which meant they’d sleep in until noon and the guests would have to fend for themselves for breakfast as usual. Polly didn’t think much of people who needed breakfast. Who wanted to get up that early on vacation? The only civilized morning meal, obviously, was brunch.
The night was as warm as bathwater. Polly took a deep breath of rainbow-scented air
and let it out again. Maybe Ozma was right. Everything she needed was here, in the paradise she ruled. Maybe staying at home was the answer after all. Her subjects, such as they were, didn’t need much direction, so it’s not like she actually had to work when she was ruling. The residents of Rainbow Falls were too happy and carefree to let themselves get into arguments about silly things, or to care about the things people lusted after in the Emerald City: wealth, knowledge, power. Her people were content to swim in the falls, surf the epic waves, nap in the afternoon sun, and stay permanently blissed out on rainbow smoke, dazzleberry cordial, and good music.
But some part of Polly wouldn’t let her rest. There was more out there. She was sure of it. And she couldn’t be content in her own kingdom until she was satisfied.
For now, the new boy would have to do.
Bright wasn’t hard to find. While the other resort employees lived in lean-tos built from fallen dream tree branches and mats woven of rainbow husks, he’d been sleeping out on Indigo Beach ever since he arrived in Rainbow Falls. And tonight, under the light of the moon, he was still surfing. Polly could see him easily silhouetted against the moonlight-glazed purple waves. She dropped her board, sank down in the silvery sands, tucking her feet underneath her, and watched for a few minutes.
Polly had grown up on these beaches. She’d learned to swim before she could walk. In all of Rainbow Falls, there was no one who could surf like her. No one who even tried.
But Bright, she realized, was good. Really good. Maybe even almost as good as she was. She watched him catch wave after wave, standing easily with Heathcliff-like grace, his muscles rippling in the moonlight. Few of Polly’s subjects surfed at Indigo Beach besides Polly; it was the wildest of all the beaches in Rainbow Falls. The waves were huge and intimidating, and although it was impossible to drown in rainbows, it wasn’t at all impossible to spin out into the dizzying array of color and currents and lose sight of shore. People didn’t surf out here because sometimes people didn’t come back—for days, months, years. Sometimes people didn’t come back at all.
Dorothy Must Die Novella #8 Page 1