Chapter Forty-Three. Dorothy
FORTY-THREE
Dorothy
When we emerge from the stairwell, the Witch of the West has her back to us as she tends to a fire on a large stone hearth. The fireplace is surrounded by black stone carved like a dragon’s head, the opening its snarling mouth.
Flames lick at the walls, leaving soot in their wake.
“Fuck,” the Tinman says beneath his breath.
“What?”
“She gets her power from fire.”
“That’s a very big fire.”
“Exactly.”
He’s rough with me now, dragging me across the room to keep up the facade. My heart is racing, my hands clammy. This suddenly feels like a very bad idea.
But I’m desperate to get home.
“Dorothy.”
I suck in a breath and look up.
The witch is standing right in front of me.
From the cutouts in the mask, I can see her eyes. They’re dark purple, like an angry storm cloud.
“Step aside, Tinman,” she orders.
He hesitates, his hand still wrapped around my arm. We didn’t talk through the logistics of this plan. It was thrown together haphazardly and with barely any thought.
Will he use the canteen of water? Will I? How long do we wait to make a move?
Reluctantly, he drops his grip and steps away.
The witch stands still in the center of the room, her hands clasped in front of her. She’s taller than me, but only by a few inches.
Dressed all in black, with the golden mask hiding her face, she’s not only imposing, but terrifying.
I swallow back the bile rising up my throat as she watches us, her gaze narrowed and calculating.
Finally, the witch lifts her hands and reaches behind her head, untying the mask.
When it slips from her face, I gasp.
There is a third eye on her forehead, and it’s snow white.
Mask in hand, she steps forward. “I was born with this deformity,” she tells me.
“A curse before anyone suffered a Great and Terrible one. Or at least that’s what everyone told me.
My parents would make me wear a scarf to hide it.
And for most of my childhood, I believed that. Until I realized I could see.”
She circles behind me and goosebumps run up the nape of my neck.
“I could see storms before they blew in. I could see when an ally was lying. I could see where a lost child had run off to. I could see when someone would die.”
She comes back around to face me and I try hard not to look at the third eye, but it’s impossible to ignore.
“I could see when a house would fall from the sky. When a girl would kill a witch.”
Oh god.
“Did you think you would get away with murdering one of the Cardinal Witches?”
“I’m sorry, your … majesty? I didn’t mean to. She came after me.”
Shit. Shit. Of course she knows about the Witch of the East, and of course she’s pissed.
I glance at the Tinman as she circles behind me again. I widen my eyes, hoping he gets the message. Now would be a good time.
Except … his teeth are gritted, his brows furrowed. Like he’s trying to move but can’t.
Like he’s locked up.
“He’s not going anywhere,” the witch says.
The fire on the hearth shrinks to half its size with a loud rush of air.
The Tinman makes a choking noise as blood starts pouring from his nose.
“What are you doing to him?”
He sinks to his knees.
Blood wells in his eyes.
“Stop!” I rush over to him but there’s nothing I can do.
He falls to all fours and vomits blood.
“You’re killing him.”
The witch clasps her hands behind her back and stares at me with all three eyes.
“What do you want?” I shout.
The Tinman collapses in a puddle of his own blood.
“Can … teen,” he gasps out.
I grab the leather strap and wrench it from his body. With my back still to the witch, I unscrew the cap. “You know, everyone was right. You really are a wicked witch.” I turn around and lunge at her, tossing the contents of the canteen in her direction.
But only ash floats out.
“What…” I shake the bottle, hit the bottom. Nothing. No water. “No. No.”
The Tinman writhes on the floor.
“Stop this. Stop it!”
She doesn’t even blink.
I toss the canteen aside. “I don’t know what you want or what you think you’re doing, but this isn’t right. I don’t belong here. I don’t want the slippers. I didn’t want to kill the East Witch.”
The ground trembles beneath me.
Wind blows in through the open balcony doors and the fire crackles.
“You killed a witch in cold blood, Dorothy.” She cants her head, regarding me like a bug. “Do you think you deserve to be free after that?”
Panic crawls up my throat.
“I didn’t … she came after me.”
“Do you have proof?”
“The East Enders … Cleo! Cleo was there.”
“Who?”
“We left her with Rook in the woods. We can get her. She’ll tell you.”
“I sent Lon back to the woods. There was no one there.”
“What?” My breathing is shallow now, my mouth dry. “That’s not right. The Tinman killed Rook. We left Cleo with the body and—”
“There was no one there. No Cleo. No body. You’re lying.”
“I’m not!”
“You landed your house on top of the Witch of the East, and then when that didn’t kill her, you did.”
“No! I don’t even want to be here! I just want to go home!”
“You will never go home.”
A breath stutters down my throat.
My ears ring.
The wind picks up and the fire gutters out.
All the windows fly open, the shutters banging against the stone walls.
I lunge forward and grab the witch by the wrists. “I just want to go home!”
Water pours from my hands, soaking the witch’s clothing.
Smoke rises from her shoulders and her skin turns ashen.
Dark hair pulls free from her clip and several strands fly in front of her face.
I’m a girl again on the porch of the Kansas farmhouse, surrounded by dark, stormy skies and winds so fierce they make my chest ache.
“No,” I breathe out as realization seeps in.
The ashen color surges up her arms, then her neck. Cracks appear along her jaw, then her cheeks. The bridge of her nose splits and smoke spills out.
Please. Take her.
Back then, when she urged me forward into Em and Henry’s arms, she was wearing a scarf. A scarf to hide her third eye.
“You’re her.” I claw at her jacket. More water pours from my hands. I can’t stop it now. “You left me at the farmhouse.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done.”
“Wait!”
Ashes flake from her and carry on the wind.
“I could only see this far.” She smiles and her mouth cracks open. “Dorothy, you are home.”
She crumbles in my hands.
“No. Wait!”
I fall to my knees as her clothing puddles on the floor, surrounded in nothing but ash.
I am a girl again, lightning flashing in the distance.
She’s screaming at me, but there is no sound.