She and all her soldiers had smeared their faces with Perma-Smile, and their white teeth glinted out of terrifying grins as they looked up at us. “Welcome back to Oz. We’re so glad you’ve returned to see the new era that’s coming.”
“Meet the new witch, same as the old bitch,” Mombi muttered.
“Where is Dorothy, sister dear?” Glamora cooed.
“Is it you, darling?” Glinda squealed. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Not since I gave you that tremendously satisfying facelift.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Glamora replied icily.
The way they were talking to each other was eerie—it was as if they were having an intimate—if tense—conversation over tea and pastries.
Mombi didn’t have any patience for their banter. “What do you want, Glinda?” she bellowed.
“I thought we could be friends,” Glinda purred. “Your little Quadrant party hasn’t gone unnoticed, you know. I was so hoping you might invite me.” Her voice was pouty, but the PermaSmile wouldn’t let her frown.
“We must have forgotten,” Mombi growled.
“No, I don’t think you did,” Glinda hissed. “Did you think you could join forces without me, my witchly sisters?”
“Funny, going behind our backs didn’t seem to bother you when you wiped out the memories of Oz’s queen and brought a tyrant to power,” Gert snapped.
Next to me, Nox tugged my shoulder. “We need to get back downstairs. If there’s an opportunity to rescue Ozma while they’re going back and forth, we have to take it.” I nodded, and Nox signaled to Melindra, Annabel, and a couple of other warriors. We began to creep stealthily toward the staircase. Mombi shook her head at us.
“Enough with this nonsense,” she said abruptly. “We join forces as a Quadrant and go down there to take her out. We hadn’t planned on it happening this soon, but we knew it was inevitable. East, West, North, South. We work as four. Nox, we need you.”
“No,” Glamora said. We all looked at her in surprise. Her blue eyes, eerie twins of Glinda’s, burned with a fierce, lightning-hot energy. “She’s my sister, and this is my fight.”
“My dear,” Gert said, “you can’t possibly mean to go up against her alone. She has an entire army at her disposal—and she nearly killed you the last time you fought.” Reflexively, Glamora touched her face where, long ago, she’d lifted the veil of glamour to show me the gruesome scar Glinda had carved into her cheek.
I’d fought next to Glamora. But I’d never seen her look the way she looked now. Powerful and fierce, yeah, but something else, too.
Elated. Hungry. Out for blood. I remembered back in the cave where I’d first met the Wicked, when Glamora had taught me the art of glamour. I’d wondered then if she was scarier than Glinda. Watching her now, I didn’t have any doubts at all.
“I have been waiting for this moment since the first time I faced her all those years ago,” Glamora said calmly. “I’ve been waiting to end her life, the way she would have ended mine if she’d had the chance. This is my chance to rid Oz of her evil, and this is my battle alone.” Calmly, she ran her hand along her face, wiping away all of the glamours she wore like makeup and revealing the gaping, half-moon scar that ran from her ear, down her cheekbone, and across her chin. It still looked as fresh as if she’d gotten it this morning.
I could tell Gert and Mombi wanted to protest, but they knew as well as I did that Glamora wouldn’t have hesitated to strike all of us down on the way to destroy her sister. The gleam in her eyes was almost unhinged, and the air around her shimmered like she was a pot of water about to boil.
“I do not see the wisdom of this course of action,” Mombi muttered, but Glamora ignored her.
“Wait here for me,” she said, and rose up into the air.
“She’s right,” Gert said. “This is her battle. Let her fight it, Mombi.”
“This is a terrible idea,” Mombi growled, shaking off Gert’s restraining hand. But like the rest of us, she hurried anxiously to the edge of the balcony, peering over it.
Even from the balcony I could see the tension in the line of Glinda’s shoulders. Despite her army, despite all her magic, it was clear that some part of her was afraid. Glamora had waited so long for this moment, carrying this hatred and desire for vengeance for years. I’d be afraid even if I had an army at my back, too.
No, I was afraid.
“There’s no use trying to stop her,” Gert said in a low voice. “But we need to come up with a backup plan—now. Dorothy will likely be on her way any minute. If Glinda found us here, she can’t be far behind.”
While Gert spoke, Glamora was floating regally toward her sister, and as she moved through the air her gown fell away, leaving her naked. It barely registered, because then she was shedding her skin, too, like a snake sheds its scales. Underneath it, her body was purple and glittering in the sun.
Instead of giving herself armor, Glamora had become the armor. Her hair, her skin, her limbs. All of her was now bright and faceted. She was now a living jewel. Everyone was speechless at the sight of it.
The only one who didn’t look shocked at the transformation was Glinda, who simply nodded in acknowledgment.
The two witches now circled each other in the air, Glamora a bright shadow of her sister’s form. Glinda’s usually sweet face was set in a mask of naked hatred made even more terrifying by the sickly sweet PermaSmile.
The air turned dark and thick, forming itself into a cloud that slowly took the shape of a huge serpent with its head rearing back to strike. Glinda flicked an arm upward and a spear of pink light struck Glamora’s serpent in the chest, dissolving it momentarily. Glamora brought her arm down, and the serpent re-formed, undulating around her in black coils. She snapped her wrist, and a bolt of pure power shot toward Glinda, who ducked at the last minute. Instinctively, I reached for my knife—and it materialized in my hand.
“Amy, what are you doing?” Nox hissed.
“If Glinda is distracted, we can rescue Ozma—and Pete, too,” I said, heading for the door.
“You can’t use magic!” Mombi barked.
“The knife doesn’t count,” I said. “It was a present.” Nox opened his mouth to protest and then shut it again, shaking his head.
Mombi sighed. “I’ll stay here with Gert to see if there’s a way we can help Glamora. Nox, you, Melindra, and Amy look for a way to rescue the princess and her traitorous other half. Annabel, we’ll need fighters here, too.” The girls nodded.
But I wasn’t the only one who’d had the brilliant idea of taking action while the sisters battled it out. Suddenly, the castle shuddered around us. We hurried back to the edge of the balcony and looked down. Glinda’s girl army had moved a battering ram up to the castle doors—but this wasn’t an ordinary battering ram. It was huge, glittery, pink, and shaped like—
“Is that a Munchkin?” Nox gasped in horror. Glinda’s twisted magic had transformed an ordinary Ozian into a giant, fossilized pink weapon. The Munchkin’s face was twisted in horror, his eyes squeezed shut as though he was still in terrible pain. Pink flames burned in his open mouth, dripping onto the ground where they sizzled and smoked like molten pink lava. Even as we watched, Glinda’s soldiers drew back and lunged forward, slamming into the door with terrific force.
“We can’t help him now, and that door won’t hold forever,” Gert said grimly. “We’d better prepare ourselves.”
TWENTY-ONE
None of us needed a second prompting. We raced downstairs to the palace’s main entryway, where the big wooden doors were already splintering. Gert, Mombi, and Nox joined hands, power flickering around them as they prepared to face Glinda’s army. I tightened my grip on my knife. With a huge cracking noise, the doors burst open, sending chunks of wood flying through the air. Mombi flicked her fingers, and the pieces froze in midair and then clattered harmlessly to the ground. The first girls were already clambering through the hole in the doors, spears at the ready. Nox hurled a ball of magic at the inva
ders, and one girl shrieked in agony as it struck her full in the torso. She fell to the ground, her armor smoking, but more girls were already climbing over her inert body.
I ran forward, my knife raised. Up close, Glinda’s soldiers were terrifying. They’d filed their gleaming white teeth into sharp points bared by their eerie PermaSmile grins. Their armor crawled with tiny pink bugs that jumped at their opponents, buzzing and stinging. I knocked a soldier’s spear out of her hand with one blow and cut her throat on the reverse swing, kicking her body out of the way as another girl came for me in her place. “Are they clones?” I screamed across the hall to Nox, who was battling two more of Glinda’s soldiers. The girls didn’t even register my question, and Nox was too busy to answer it. “What are you?” I asked the girl I fought now. “Why are you fighting for Glinda?” She bared her sharp teeth and lunged toward my throat. “Fine,” I said, and stabbed her through the heart.
“Behind you!” Nox yelled, and I turned just in time to dodge another blow. Nox sliced his way toward me. Right as he reached me, another soldier raised her sword, readying herself to stab him through the back. I hurled him to the ground and deflected her blow. A second later he leapt to his feet, kicking her legs out from under her with unearthly speed and grace.
Nox and I were fighting back-to-back—the way we always had. I couldn’t help it. It just felt right. On either side of us Annabel, Melindra, and the other members of the Order slashed and stabbed. Gert and Mombi darted around the room, casting spells as they saw an opening. More girls pulled down the remnants of the palace doors, and soon the battle spilled out into the courtyard. Glinda and Glamora, in her jeweled form, hovered overhead, swooping and diving through the air like human comets as they hurled fireballs and sizzling, lightning-shaped bolts of pink magic at one another.
“Over there!” Gert called. I dispatched my newest opponent with a hard punch and looked up. Pete and Ozma were huddled up against a rock, wide-eyed and clinging to each other, still in chains. Pink chains, I saw with disgust. After all of this is over, I’m never wearing the color pink again, I thought.
“Now’s your chance, Amy!” Gert shouted, clearing the way to the prisoners with a huge ball of fire. I raced through the gap in the melee to Ozma’s side. “Ozma! Are you all right?”
“The corn harvest will be ready soon,” she said politely.
“She’s fine,” Pete gasped. His face was bruised and bloodied, as if someone had beaten him up recently. I had a pretty good guess as to who that might be. And I wasn’t too sorry about it either. “You have to get us out of here,” he pleaded.
“So you can sell us out to Glinda again?” I snarled. “Worked out pretty well for you last time, huh?”
“I was desperate!” he cried. “Polychrome was going to kill me. You know that!”
“Well, she can’t kill you now, because she’s dead,” I said.
Pete’s eyes widened. “Behind you!”
Right. I was in the middle of a battle. I whipped around, knife at the ready, but Nox had already made short work of the girl soldier who’d been about to run me through like a shish kebab. “If it isn’t the little prince,” he said with disgust, breathing hard as he stared at Pete.
“We can’t just leave him here to die,” I said reluctantly. “We have to get them both out of here.”
“Are you sure?” Nox growled. His hands burned with magical fire as he pulled at Pete’s chains, but as soon as he touched them, the flame dissipated into smoke and the pink metal glowed white-hot. Pete yelped in pain, but the chains didn’t budge. “Hurts!” Pete gasped. “Please, stop!” Nox’s spell had no effect on Ozma’s bindings either, although she watched him work with detached interest.
“We’ll have tea in the west garden, don’t you think?” she offered.
Nox shook his head. “Glinda’s magic is too powerful. We have to get them back into the palace and hide them until we have more time to undo the spell.” Pete grabbed a rock off the ground and held it up, as if he was going to bludgeon the next girl soldier to death.
“Let me help!” I yelled.
“No!” Nox yelled back. “Amy, you can’t use magic!”
“I won’t be using any magic at all if I’m dead!” I retorted. He shook his head, but he knew I was right. And I had Dorothy’s shoes. I sent a tendril of power snaking down to my feet and felt an answering pulse from the shoes. Help me, I thought. Whatever you are. Please, just help me.
The boots twinkled as if in response. Suddenly, I was surrounded by a dazzling cloud of tiny fireflies winking and glittering like diamonds—because they were made of diamonds, I realized. All around me, the battlefield went silent as though I’d stepped into a sparkling silver bubble. I could still see it dimly, as if I was looking through a screen, but another image was superimposed over the carnage.
I was standing in an old farmhouse. Everything was worn and shabby but scrupulously clean. Once-bright yellow curtains, patched neatly in a dozen places, were pulled open to reveal windows that looked out on endless, undulating prairie. An old man and woman were sitting at a rough kitchen table that had been worn smooth by the years, and a rosy-cheeked young girl was serving them pie as they looked at her with obvious pride. Her face was sweet and pretty; her blue eyes sparkled, and her glossy auburn hair was pulled into two neat braids. “I know my crust will never be as good as Aunt Em’s,” she was saying, “but I tried so hard on this one to make it perfect!”
“I’m sure it’s delicious, Dorothy,” said the woman. A shock ran through me. This was Dorothy? But this girl bore no resemblance to the tarted-up villain I’d been trying to kill for what felt like forever. This person was just a child.
This was the Dorothy whose journal I’d found. Dorothy looked up, straight at me—and straight through me. She couldn’t see me. But then her eyes narrowed, and her face began to change. Her blue gaze took on that tint of menace that was so familiar, and her smiling mouth twisted into a sneer. “Amy Gumm,” she said. And then her gaze dropped to my feet and her eyes widened. “My shoes,” she whispered. “Where did you find them?” Her voice was tinged with wonder, and for a second she was that sweet little girl again.
“Dorothy? Who are you talking to?” Aunt Em asked, and Dorothy’s expression wavered. But then she flicked her fingers dismissively, and Aunt Em, Uncle Henry, and the farmhouse disappeared. We were standing on an open plain underneath a violent gray-green sea of clouds, like the sky just before a tornado. As I watched, Dorothy grew taller and her features sharpened, losing the gentle baby fat of the little girl in the farmhouse. Her dress wrapped around her, the shabby, mended gingham transforming to a sleek, tight, plated bodysuit like Glinda’s. “Don’t think you can use our connection to take me on a trip down memory lane,” she said coldly. “I’m coming for you, Amy Gumm, and I’m coming for my shoes. I’m going to find a way to make you die.”
“Amy! Amy!” Someone was calling my name. I blinked, and snapped out of the empty field back into the heat of battle. Nox was shaking me and calling my name. “Amy!” he cried frantically. “What happened? Where did you go?”
“I tried to use the shoes,” I gasped. “But they’re still connected to Dorothy. She knows where we are now. She’s on her way.”
“We have to warn the Quadrant,” Nox said urgently. I looked up. Glinda and Glamora were still going at it. Glinda’s hair had come loose from its bun and surrounded her head in a wild halo. Her armor was rent in a dozen places, and her face and hands were smeared with blood. But Glamora wasn’t looking much better. Her amethyst form was chipped and cracked, and though both of them were still flying at each other, she held one arm close to her chest as though she couldn’t move it. I could see flashes of power as Mombi and Gert fought on the ground, but like Nox and me, they were surrounded. The ground was littered with the broken and bloody bodies of Glinda’s soldiers and the air smelled like blood and the electric haze of spent magic. I couldn’t see Melindra or Annabel or any of the other Wicked. None of us could hol
d out for much longer. If we didn’t do something soon, all of us were going to go down fighting for Oz right here.
Suddenly, a terrifying howl split the air. Pete’s face went white. I turned to see what he was looking at. “Oh no,” I said. Beside me, Nox drew his breath in sharply.
Dorothy had found us.
She wasn’t alone.
TWENTY-TWO
Dorothy looked even worse than she had when I’d seen her in Kansas, as though she couldn’t suck magic out of the ground fast enough to keep herself going. Her dress was still in tatters, and she’d painted on her maniacal smile with a garish red lipstick that looked like a bloody slash across her face. Her shoes blazed with red light. But she wasn’t the scariest thing we faced anymore—not by a long shot. That honor fell to her steed: a three-headed monster the size of a truck. It was covered in sharp-edged, reptilian scales. Behind it swung a long tail crowned in a bristle of spikes. Its legs ended in paws with huge, serrated claws. The teeth in each of its three mouths were as long as my forearm. It threw back first one head, then another, and then a third, and roared. And then I spotted a red velveteen ribbon around each of its thick, muscular necks.
“Oh my god,” I gasped. “That’s Toto.” That is, something that had once been Toto. But this Toto was like the ’roid-rage version of Dorothy’s little dog, twisted and terrifying.
At Dorothy’s back was yet another army—this one made up of the Tin Man’s gruesome hybrid creations. Creatures lurched and hopped, brandishing arms and legs that ended in spikes and saws and pincers. Some rolled along on bicycle wheels. Others bounded on all fours, but their bodies were replaced by metal torsos. Most of them looked like they’d been pieced together in a hurry. Bloody wounds seeped fluid where jagged metal edges met living flesh, and some of them limped or dragged themselves along, their blank faces showing no sign that they were in pain but the trail of blood they left behind them suggesting otherwise.