Dorothy Must Die: The Other Side of the Rainbow Collection: No Place Like Oz, Dorothy Must Die, The Witch Must Burn, The Wizard Returns, The Wicked Will Rise

by Danielle Paige

  Ollie cleaned and bandaged the first stump while I moved on to the other. This one took longer, my arms heavy and weak.

  When it was done, Ollie lifted her into his arms, cradling her like a baby. She stirred, looked at me blearily.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  I nodded and opened my mouth to say something. Instead, I found myself collapsing onto my knees. Ollie leaned close, his face now level with mine.

  “Come with us,” he said urgently, and jerked his chin in the direction of the stone wall that separated the Royal Gardens from the Emerald City. “I can bring you to the Dark Jungle and the other Wingless Ones.”

  I trusted the monkeys. But even though I still hadn’t heard from the Order, I knew I had to see this thing through. I shook my head. “No,” I replied, gritting my teeth and trying to pull it together. “My mission is here.”

  In the darkness, I couldn’t tell whether the look on Ollie’s face was admiration or pity.

  “In that case, Amy of Kansas,” he said. “You need to stand up.”

  I struggled to my feet, every muscle sore and aching. I felt like I might crumble back to the ground at any second. When I was finally up, Ollie shifted Maude into one arm and held out his other hand to me.

  I reached out to grip it, thinking that he was just saying good-bye. But he pressed something metal into my palm. When I looked down, I saw that it was a tiny silver arrow, no bigger than the needle on an ordinary compass.

  “It will lead you to the Wingless Ones,” Ollie said. “Keep it safe. Keep it with you. Use it to find us when you need us most.”

  I blinked at him, shocked. He had made no secret of how the Wingless Ones wanted nothing to do with the Wicked. He knew I was loyal to them, and he was trusting me with this anyway.

  “We work for no one,” Ollie said, as if he sensed my surprise. “But you have proven yourself. You are our friend, and we will help you however we can.”

  “Thank you,” was all I managed to say.

  The words were barely out of my mouth and he was already on the move, carrying Maude toward the shadows of the wall. Once there, he didn’t climb over. Instead, he lifted up a flap of grass and disappeared beneath it. A tunnel, I realized. The Wingless Ones had dug a tunnel.

  The silver arrow twitched in my fist in the direction of the wall. I now knew there was a way out, but I couldn’t yet take it.

  I was lucky to make it back to my room, so weak I was practically crawling the whole way, without drawing any attention. At one point, I had to duck behind a curtain to avoid being spotted by a pair of palace guards. They were chatting about the freak accident in the Scarecrow’s room. Good. I hoped that meant nobody suspected foul play.

  Well, at least until the Scarecrow discovered Maude missing and flipped out.

  All I wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep for a million years, but I couldn’t until I got myself cleaned up. As I washed the blood from my hands in the little basin by the cupboard, the sounds of bones cracking and feathers flapping echoed in my head. When I closed my eyes, all I saw were Maude’s twisted, injured wings falling into the grass.

  I shuddered. Doing Good had been uglier than I’d expected it to be. And the price . . . the price now was feeling like I needed to always be looking over my shoulder. Maybe I’d taken too many risks.

  And now, to get rid of the evidence, I needed to take one more. I felt dizzy, like I was spinning out of control, but I shoved it down, doing what needed to be done.

  I pulled off my blood-crusted dress and placed it carefully on my bed. Waving my finger at it, I lit it with a magical flame. It burned quickly and noiselessly, its fabric blackening and smoking, hissing and popping. At least no one in the palace would find the smell of smoke out of place.

  Though the fire danced across my sheets and mattress, the spell did its job. They remained unharmed by the flames.

  I stood there, practically naked, just watching, my arms crossed across my chest until the evidence was finally disposed of. There wasn’t even a trace of ash left behind. It was as if it had never happened—the room wasn’t even hot.

  But I could still see the fire burning on my retinas when I closed my eyes. Much smaller than the one I’d set outside the Scarecrow’s chambers. But with more magic. I felt weakened; an emptiness in my core like a hunger.

  If Dorothy had detected my use of magic, I’d be in trouble. I needed some support. I needed someone to tell me what I’d done hadn’t been a total waste—what was one free monkey in the scheme of things? A minor victory at what cost?

  Where was the Order? Why had they left me all on my own?

  I turned to the mirror that I’d come somersaulting out of almost a week ago.

  “Nox,” I said. My voice came out angrier than I meant it to. “Nox. I don’t know if you can see me. I don’t know if you’re listening. But I need you.”

  There was no answer.

  The hunt was already on when I woke up. From the tiny window in my room, I watched the monkeys circling the grounds. There were dozens of them in the air, swooping and diving. I couldn’t help realize that even though winged monkeys are controlled by magic, today they were tethered to long metal chains that fastened in thick collars at their necks and were being held from the ground by the Tin Soldiers, who just stood there looking up at their prisoners like they were flying kites at the beach. I guess with one runaway monkey, they didn’t want to take any chances that their magical power over the monkeys might be slipping.

  They were searching for her.

  I dressed slowly, feeling achy all over, and took an extra second to look at myself in the mirror. I half hoped that maybe Nox would appear there, but he didn’t. I kissed Star on the nose and tucked her away safely in her drawer. I think she was getting used to it, or at least had stopped trying to scratch her way out of it.

  As I exited my room, I tried to inject a little extra pep in my step to make up for the worn-out feeling in my bones. Maybe I could borrow some of Jellia’s PermaSmile.

  That reminded me. I had to get her keys back to her. I’d find a way to do it at breakfast. My stomach growled; apparently, starting a fire, overusing magic, and chopping the wings off a monkey made a girl extremely hungry.

  Except, there was no breakfast: instead, the maid staff was lined up from one end of the hall to the other, no food in sight.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Sindra, the maid next to me, as I joined the line.

  “Surprise uniform inspection,” she replied. Sindra blinked her extra-long eyelashes and shrugged. She didn’t seem to have any clue that anything was up. Part of me envied her ignorance.

  Jellia marched up and down the line, making sure everyone was in order for the inspection. Her scent was vastly improved; Dorothy must have finally let her take the mouse out of her pocket. She looked sharper than she had in days, but not quite chipper. Jellia knew something was up and it made her nervous.

  When she passed me, I saw the tiniest look of alarm flit across her eyes. Her mouth, probably slathered with PermaSmile, didn’t move. My pulse raced as I tried to say calm. Had I missed something? Did I have one of Maude’s feathers stuck in my hair?

  Jellia stepped toward me. She licked her thumb, and brusquely rubbed a spot behind my ear. A spot I couldn’t have seen in my mirror.

  “Astrid,” she spoke quietly, without venom. “You’ve been slipping in your appearance lately. You’re really going to have to learn to be tidier.”

  When she got close, I took the opportunity to slip Jellia’s keys back in her pocket. Her eyebrow arched at me—maybe she felt the tug against her smock—but she didn’t say anything more, just studied my face for a moment longer to make sure I was clean. I breathed a sigh of relief as she turned her back on me and continued her march down the line.

  The clomping shuffle of metal against marble approached and then I knew for sure that this was no ordinary uniform inspection. Jellia stepped back and faced us. I felt the other girls tensing up at my side
as they began to realize it wouldn’t be Jellia conducting the inspection.

  Jellia cleared her throat. “Ladies, the Tin Woodman and his men are going to ask you some questions. Be honest and concise. As long as you tell the truth, no harm will come to you.”

  I’d known this might happen, but I hadn’t expected it so quickly. I thought I’d have some time to prepare my story. I steeled myself, willing my heart to slow, willing my face to stay smiling and placid as the Tin Woodman came lurching into the room, all business. Jellia curtsied as he approached. The Tin Woodman didn’t acknowledge the gesture.

  The Tin Woodman made quick work of the line, showing each of us a small picture of Maude and asking each of us about her whereabouts last night.

  “Well, I don’t know if I recognize the funny little creature!” Sindra said, her turn right before mine. “It’s a monkey! They all look the same to me.”

  I wanted to reach over and slap her. Of course, I didn’t. I didn’t even turn my head.

  A moment later, the Tin Woodman shoved the picture in my face, and I realized that I didn’t have to lie about whether I recognized her. The drawing of Maude was nothing like the Maude I’d rescued the night before. Her fur was neatly combed, and her wings were folded behind her back. She had a pink bow in her hair and was wearing a little pair of green glasses. The little half smile on her face was knowing and shy at the same time.

  I looked up at the Tin Woodman. I studied the seams that held his metal face together.

  “I’ve never seen her,” I lied confidently, then tried to copy some of Sindra’s stupidity. “I don’t have any contact with the monkeys. They have lice.”

  I remembered what I’d seen of the Tin Woodman in the magic picture in Dorothy’s parlor, mooning over the princess. I knew his weakness. It should’ve been like picturing him in his metal underwear, thinking about him writing bad love poetry to Dorothy in motor oil. At that moment, it didn’t make me feel much better. He lingered in front of me, taking longer than he had with the other girls.

  “The last time this monkey was seen, she no longer had her fur,” the Tin Woodman said. “Or her wings. Use your imagination.”

  I didn’t have to imagine. The image would never leave me.

  “No fur or wings?” I asked, trying to conceal a wince at the horrible memory. “Shouldn’t she be dead?”

  The Tin Woodman’s eyes flickered. “She will be.”

  He stepped away from me then, holding up the picture for everyone to take a second look.

  “This monkey escaped from the Scarecrow’s lab late last night,” he said. “She was gravely injured. She could not have escaped without help from someone inside the palace.”

  No one said anything. Abruptly, the Tin Woodman changed gears, his voice coldly demanding.

  “Who is responsible for delivering hay to the Scarecrow’s chambers? Step forward.”

  Everyone in the line hesitated, but one by one, four of us stepped forward, including me and Sindra. The Tin Woodman stared right at me, though. He stepped close again.

  “You smell like smoke,” he said dispassionately.

  Could he even smell with that metal face? Was this a ploy?

  I blinked up at him innocently. “My room was close to the fire, sir,” I replied.

  “Tell me your name, little maid.”

  “Astrid,” I said, feeling less secure in my disguise spell than I had in days.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Gillikin Country,” I said.

  Before he could ask any more questions, Jellia cleared her throat loudly behind him. “Your Greatness,” she said, addressing the Tin Woodman. “We have duties to attend to and we’re already off to a late start. Dorothy will be very disappointed if we don’t . . .”

  The Tin Woodman gave me a last look. A long one. “Maids, so good at getting every single detail right,” he mused. He stepped away from me, addressing the rest of the line. “If any of you have information on our escaped monkey, you know where to find me. And don’t put the hay near the lanterns, you little fools.”

  Metal hands clasped behind his back, the Tin Woodman strode from the room.

  “Off to your duties, girls,” Jellia singsonged when he was gone. “Don’t dillydally. There’s more work to be done than ever.”

  I was turning to follow Sindra when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Jellia.

  “Come with me,” she said. “I have a special task that you can help me with.”

  That was unusual. My chest tightened, paranoia fluttering through me. Did Jellia know? Had she figured out that I swiped her keys? That I used them to help Maude escape? I studied her face, but it was as placid and cheerful as ever.

  I didn’t have any choice except to go with her. As she led me out of the dining hall, I felt my knife whispering for me to call it. But I didn’t, not yet. I wasn’t entirely sure what Jellia was up to, but I didn’t totally distrust her. I would only have one chance to run. I had to make sure I took the right one.

  “Of course this has to happen just so close to the ball,” Jellia chattered airily as we walked. “The Tin Woodman and his men are ripping apart every room. Turning over every cushion. They don’t care that we’ll have to clean it all up before Dorothy’s guests arrive. And Her Highness will not be pleased if even the slightest thing is out of place. Not to mention that mess in the Scarecrow’s room.”

  It was the closest she’d ever come to complaining about anything. I followed along and listened, wondering what she was getting at.

  “You know,” she continued. “I’ve worked in the palace for a long time. I was here before the Wizard, even. I was here during the Scarecrow’s rule. I was here when Ozma was still herself. I was here when Dorothy returned.”

  “That is a long time,” I said, trying to sound noncommittal, but I was curious just the same, and not only about why she could appear to be a young girl after so many years working in the palace. I wondered why she was telling me all this—she had never opened up around me before. Maybe that hug yesterday really had made a difference. Maybe she just wanted to talk?

  “Oz has been through many changes,” she went on. “Oh, people talk about the real Oz, but I don’t even know what they mean by that. Oz has rarely stayed the same for long. That’s the magic, of course. Always changing.”

  We were climbing the stairs now. Jellia’s smile was different from her usual phony mannequin-grin. It was sad and faraway.

  “I have some fairy blood, too, you know,” she said. By now I wasn’t even sure if she was talking to me or talking to herself. “Not anywhere near as much as Ozma, of course. Not enough to make much of a difference. But enough to know that things could have been different.”

  Finally, we were at my room. I looked over at Jellia questioningly. Why had she brought me here?

  “I want you to be sure that your room is tidy,” she explained. There was no hint in her voice that anything was out of the ordinary. “They’ll be searching all of them, of course, and I know that you can be sloppy from time to time. I wouldn’t want them to find it out of order. It would reflect badly on me.”

  She stared at me meaningfully. This was a warning. I don’t know how much Jellia knew, but she’d brought me here, taken me away from my chores so that I could make sure everything was in order. So that I wouldn’t get busted.

  “Jellia, I—”

  She held up her hand. “I’ll expect you in the kitchen for dishes shortly.”

  Without another word, she walked away. But when I opened the door and stepped inside, I realized I was too late. Everything was out of place. The sheets had been stripped. The mattress had been cut down the center, feathers spilling everywhere.

  When I saw the open drawers, overturned on the floor, I felt like I was going to throw up.

  Star was gone.

  Outside the window, the sky turned from blue to purple to black. Even though it was barely after breakfast, Dorothy had turned the clock.

  I couldn’t bring mysel
f to care. Star was gone. My room had been ransacked. I was sure they knew about me—about who I really was. The Tin Woodman already seemed suspicious of me. They’d put it all together.

  I had to get out of here.

  I turned to face the mirror, which was basically the only thing in the room that had been left undisturbed. Could it be the way out, too?

  I ran my fingers over the smooth, reflective surface, hoping some kind of answer would reveal itself. “Nox,” I said, knowing in my heart that it was useless. “Please help me. Tell me what to do. I need you.”

  I thought I saw my image ripple, just barely, like when you drop a penny in a pool, and a quick surge of hope rushed through me. But the mirror remained unchanged. Any movement I’d seen had just been my imagination.

  I looked at my face, the face that wasn’t really my own, and tried to remember what I really looked like. For some reason, it made me wonder what my mother was doing. I wondered how much time had passed since I’d left—I knew that time didn’t work the same here as it did back home. Was she an old woman now? Had she found a new life without me? Or maybe a hundred years had passed back in Kansas and she was now long dead. I shivered.

  Suddenly I found myself longing for my real face. I thought about taking out the knife and cutting myself to reverse the spell, just to get a glimpse of the girl I had been. If I was going to be captured, or have to fight my way out, I decided I would do it as Amy.

  The blade came to me eagerly. It glinted in the mirror.

  I was just about to slice my palm open when I heard something behind me. First a rustle, then a squeak. I spun around to see Star emerging from a crevice between the floorboards and the wall, a tiny little space I had never noticed before.

  “Star!” I cried. “Where the hell were you? Where did you come from?” I was so overjoyed to see her that I didn’t even care that I was talking to a rat that had no way of answering any of my questions. She must have escaped somehow. That’s one good thing you can say about rodents: they know how to make a quick getaway. I just hoped she’d done it before they’d searched my dresser. Somehow I didn’t think Dorothy would take kindly to a maid harboring a rat in her room.