Date: 2000-01-01 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Monsters; Wizards & Witches; Death & Dying; Magical Realism; Fiction; Zombies; Fairy Tale Retellings; Adaptations; Magic; Vampires; Family & Relationships; retellings; Young Adult Fiction; Shifters; P
Description: Shifters, Zombies, and Vampires? Oh my!My name is Dorothy Gale, and I think I might be dead. When my dog Toto and I got swept up in a twister, we landed in hell. A very colorful hell. Like a rainbow dripping in blood. Now it looks as though this dreadful underworld plagued with vampires, zombies, and shifters will be the site of my eternal damnation. They say this terrifying land called Oz isn’t hell or purgatory and escape is possible, but first I must survive the journey down the blood-soaked yellow brick road to the only place in Oz where vampires dare not tread—The City of Emeralds. With e
Publisher: G. G. Hale, Inc

Dorothy in the Land of Monsters

Oz ReVamped Book One

Garten Gevedon

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

DOROTHY IN THE LAND OF MONSTERS

Copyright © 2019 by G. G. Hale, Inc.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Convention. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether it be electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

www.gartengevedon.com

EBook Edition © 2019

ISBN-13: 978-0-463-11266-3

Paperback Edition © 2019

ISBN-13: 978-1-099-01192-4

Hardcover Edition © 2019

ISBN-13: 978-0-578-51498-7

THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ Copyright © 1899 by L. Frank Baum

Cover and interior design by Schatten Studios

For Tuesday

Contents

1. The Cyclone

2. And I Thought Kansas Sucked

3. How I Saved a Zombie

4. The Blood-Soaked Road Through the Forest of Deadly Things

5. My Run-in with the Heartless Axe Murderer

6. A Civilized Education for the Axeman

7. The Company of Zombies

8. The Cowardly Shifter

9. The Haunting of Nick Chopper

10. The Journey to the Vampire Free Zone

11. The Deadly Poppy Field

12. The Queen of the Wererats

13. The Magical Transport to Emerald Station

14. The Guardian of the Gate

15. The City of Emeralds

16. The Emerald Palace

17. The Great and Terrible Wizard of Oz

18. The Enchanted Hollow

19. The Calm Before the Storm

20. The Search for the Vampire Witch

21. In the Service of Evil

22. The Liberation of the Winkie Slaves

23. The Vampire Bat Monkeys

24. The Discovery of Oz the Fraud

25. The Emerald Balloon

26. Into the Undead Jungle

27. Through the Zombielands

28. The Country of Bisque and Bone

29. The Shifter King

30. The Redwoman Army

31. The Red Witch

32. Home Again—but not for long

Acknowledgments

Letter to the Reader

About the Author

Also by Garten Gevedon

1

The Cyclone

Gray everywhere. As I stand on the porch of my aunt and uncle’s home, all I can see is the great gray expanse of prairie on every side. No trees, houses, buildings, people, nothing at all breaks the broad sweep of flat gray country that reaches to the edge of the gray sky in every direction. The sun scorched the plowed fields into a dusty mass that expands to the horizon line, the endless gloom broken only by the little black shadows of the fissures running through it like the marbling of a corpse.

Even the grass is dead and gray—the hot sun singed the blades until they were the same lifeless color that blankets everything. Years ago, the house was a pristine white, but the torrid summer sun burned and blistered the paint and the heavy winter rains battered it away, and now the house is as weathered and gray as everything else here. It’s fitting for what it’s like to live here in Middle of Nowhere, Kansas. It looks like what it is—bleak, leached of any color, any excitement, anything interesting at all—drained of life. Gray is gray is gray is my life. It surrounds me from all sides, all the time. And it sucks. Thanks a lot, climate change.

I came to live with my Uncle Henry and Aunt Emily on a crappy little farm when my parents died in a car accident. I was thirteen. Because Emily was the only family I had left, she got stuck with me. She could have refused me and left me as a ward of the state, but she was kind enough to take me in. Even though I don’t share the same connection with Emily and Henry that I did with my parents, they’re still family—the only family I have—so, I may complain about this being the middle of nowhere, but it’s better than being in an orphanage or foster care or some group home. Yeah, their place is tiny, and old, but at least it has four walls, a floor, and a roof.

The two-bedroom farmhouse I live in is as weathered and brittle as the farm it’s set on. One story with no attic and no basement, the only feature it has is a cyclone cellar which we’ve had yet to use since I’ve lived here. It may lack color and any of the luxuries most people in America have these days—cable, wifi, consistent hot water to shower with—but I am grateful I have somewhere to live, even if life here is so gray that the grayness proliferates, turning everything in it to a gray as dry as dust.

When Aunt Emily came here to live with Uncle Henry, she was a young, pretty, vivacious woman with golden hair and bright emerald green eyes—or I thought I remembered her that way. Even she’s gray now. Just like it changed this once green land, the sun and wind have changed her, and her once sparkling green eyes are now dim and muted, tinged with a melancholy gray. Living here in this sweltering, exanimate world has stolen her radiance and left her ashen. It’s exhausted the red from her cheeks and lips, and now they’re pallid and gray too. Once she was curvy and a little plump. Now she’s gaunt and never smiles. Can’t blame her for never smiling, living in this dull, gray crap hole.

When I first came to her, Aunt Emily would startle when I laughed. She’d scream and look at me like I was nuts, shocked I could find anything to laugh at in this gray place. Uncomfortable and bored out of my skull, I’d laugh trying to entertain myself, trying not to let the depression get the best of me, but after being here for four years, I get it now—what is there to laugh about when all that’s here is gray?

Uncle Henry never laughs either. Morning to night, all he does is work hard. If he knows what joy is, he doesn’t let on. From his gray beard to his rough boots, Henry is also gray, stern, and solemn. With a permanent stone face, he almost never speaks. It’s like he’s made of hard, gray stone. If he didn’t work so much trying to make this gray land yield something, I’d think he was stone—a gray statue of a man.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s me that’s gray, or the lens I see the world through. Before my parents died, my life was a bright white, like a pristine sheet of paper wishing for a colorful story to grace its surface. Then the black smear of tragedy struck, and it’s as though the thousands of tears I shed diffused the black that blemished my bright whiteness, spreading it over the unsullied parts like watercolor, leaving my world gray. But I don’t think I’m gray. Not yet. I don’t think it has spread to me yet.

If I didn’t have Toto, my bloodhound, who I’ll admit makes me laugh often, I’d already be as gray as everything else that surrounds me. Small and black with some reddish brown around his face and paws, Toto is not gray. His twinkling black eyes are framed by the longest lashes I’ve ever seen. Feisty for a bloodhound, and smaller than most, I’m sure he’s a mutt but I have no clue what he’s mixed with. My best guess is he’s a bloodhound terrier mix of some kind because he’s scruffy and small and so darn cute, but I can’t be sure. Whatever breeds he may be, he’s my dog, and I love the little guy. We play catch, go on walks, and if I didn’t have him, I’d be a complete mess in this life of chronic grayness. The only thing about living on a farm in Ash-Gray, Kansas that doesn’t suck is Toto.

Today we’re not playing catch. Henry sits on the porch steps in front of me looking nervous for once. He stares at the sky, which is even grayer than usual. I’m standing on the porch with Toto and I’m looking at the sky too. Aunt Em washes the dishes inside. What an exciting life I live.

From the far north, a low wail of the wind rolls across the plain, and the long gray grass bows in waves before the coming storm. From the south, a sharp whistling resounds through the air, rippling the grass behind me. Uncle Henry shoots up to his feet and calls to my aunt through the open front door of the house.

“Cyclone’s coming, Em. I’ll go look after the stock.”

With that short word, he runs toward the sheds where we keep the cows and horses.

Aunt Emily drops her work, comes to the doorway, and glances outside.

“Quick, Dorothy! Run for the cellar!” she screams like a banshee.

Startled by her loud shriek, Toto bolts into my room.

Wonderful.

Emily rushes to the trap door in the middle of the living room floor and scurries down the ladder that leads into a small, dark hole. I go to get Toto, bursting into my room and doing my best to coax him out from under the bed.

“Come on, Toto, let’s play!” I say, keeping my voice light.

He inches out, creeping toward me, and when he gets close enough I grab his paws and lift him into my arms before rushing toward the trap door that leads down into the cellar. We get halfway across the room when a great shriek from the wind, even louder than Emily’s, resonates through the space, and the house shakes so hard that I fall right on my butt. A loud screech then a hard crack reverberates through me as Toto howls, frantic and afraid.

The north and south winds meet right where the house stands, or I guess stood, making it the exact center of the cyclone, the eye of the storm. Three times, the house whirls around like it’s landed on the minute hand of a fast winding clock. We rise through the air in the updraft, spinning countless times as we ascend, the rotation so fast, so forceful that the pressure drives Toto and me back against the wall. Inside the funnel, the air is still but the force of the wind on every side of the house pushes it up the vortex higher and higher until it’s at the top of the twister. And here it remains, carrying us miles and miles away, preparing to drop us hard when it stops so Toto and I can plummet to our deaths.

My gray flicker of a life will end insignificant. An achromatic waste.

Darkness falls, and the wind howls around us, but we’re riding this twister with ease. Nothing is busting apart, we’re not flailing around, so that’s lucky.

As if the fates heard my thought and felt the need to set me straight, the house tips on its side, and I slide across the floor. Right before I hit the wall, I grab hold of a floor board with one hand while holding Toto in the other.

“Please,” I whisper, and it tips back, thank goodness.

On its counter-swing, a swaying begins and the house rocks like a rocking chair, or like a pendulum swinging back and forth, back and forth.

Terrified by the motion, Toto escapes from my grip, running and barking all over the living room while I sit still on the floor awaiting my death. It sucks to die like this, so young, having accomplished nothing, seen nothing, been nothing but a girl who lost her parents.

I’ve led a colorless life. A gray existence.

Toto goes haywire, bouncing off the walls as he runs around the room barking, and when he gets too near the open trap door, my heart leaps into my throat. I dive for him, but before I can grab him, he falls through the hole. All at once, I gasp and scream, sorrow and terror clutching my chest. I collapse in a sob as one of his ears sticks up through the hole, the strong pressure of the air keeping him up so he doesn’t fall but floats instead. Relief and gratitude wash over me, and I creep to the hole, catch Toto by his ear, drag him up into the room, and slam the trap door shut so no more accidents like that can happen again. When we go down, and we will soon enough, we’re going down together.

I hold Toto tight to my chest and pray that death doesn’t come too quick. There was a time when I wished for death, right after my parents died, but it was fleeting. Hope for a colorful future soon replaced the depression, and it breaks my heart the future I wished for on so many stars will never be.

As I cherish the final moments of my life, I kiss my best friend atop his head while he trembles in my arms, and I pin the last of my hopes on a painless demise for us both.

Time passes and death doesn’t come, at least not as fast as I expect, so I take these final moments to take stock of my life, of what I have gone through, of what I’ve done, for myself, for others, and aside from the loss of my parents, there’s not much to account for.

I loved my parents, even my gray aunt and uncle, and Toto who has been my most trusted friend and the pride and joy of my life these past years. School was far away with only a few students from neighboring farms of varying ages, and making connections to others was difficult for me—the distance between our homes, the age differences, and my discontent with the life they didn’t seem to mind kept me reclusive, unable to relate. But I did my work, and I tried to help on the farm. I even learned to milk a cow, cook a little, but I had no great friendships, I didn’t go to any great parties, and I had no great adventures.

There was a guy for a while, a boyfriend type, but it was an unremarkable relationship. Billy and I liked each other, but it was not anything near love. He lived on a neighboring farm, the closest farm to ours, went to my school, and he was nice enough, but we weren’t more than friends. A gray relationship had in a gray area between friendship and convenience. This horrific incident is the most excitement I’ve ever had. Solitary and uneventful describe my life too well. In so many ways, it’s been a disappointment.

Hour after hour passes away, and as time moves on without my death, the fear, the depression begotten from recollections of a sorrowful, banal, inchoate life melts away. But the loneliness remains. I’ve been lonely for as long as I can remember, even before my parents died, and in these last moments of my existence, I’m more lonesome than I’ve ever been. It’s as though all the isolation I’ve ever felt looms, haunting me, reminding me of the connections I lost, and the ones I never made.

Could this be the afterlife? Maybe I already died, and this is my existence now—an eerie, endless limbo, a ceaseless purgatory, or some peculiar version of hell. Even though I did nothing too terrible, I did nothing great either. I didn’t fall in love. I did nothing exceptional or noble like volunteering at a homeless shelter or joining the peace corps or anything like that. My life has been a selfish one, I guess, except for rescuing Toto from the pound. But my relationship with Toto is selfish, considering I get so much from it. Self-sacrifice isn’t something I’ve done too much of. If I live after this, if this isn’t death, if I survive, that’s something I will make it a point to do—be altruistic and live my life to the fullest, experience exciting things, great things, wonderful things like falling in love and traveling to places filled with the colors my life lacks.

Deafening shrieks of wind scream, echoing in my eardrums as Toto howls in my lap. Terrified and heartbroken my life is almost over, tears fill my eyes and I clutch my ears waiting for the house to crash to the ground, expecting to meet death at any moment. Instead, the earsplitting screeches ebb to a low whistle.

More time passes, hours and hours, and in that time, even though the house still sways, I resolve to wait, to stay calm and see what the future will bring. This strange, phantasmagorical event, these last hours spent hurtling through the sky is the most surreal and spellbinding situation I have ever faced. Hopeful that whatever comes next will be better than the dull, gray life I’ve lived these past four years, surrender washes over me and I resolve to have a more colorful future, whether it be in this life or the next, in an afterlife, a purgatory, a hell, or a heaven.

All this swaying is making me sleepy, so I crawl over the rocking floor to my bed and Toto follows. We get into bed and cuddle up under the covers. The house sways, the wind wails, and I close my eyes to rest so I am ready for the next chapter, praying whatever that may be is not gray. Soon after my head hits the pillow, I drift off to sleep.

2

And I Thought Kansas Sucked

Slam! Toto and I fly up at least five feet above my bed and crash back down hard.

What the hell happened?

Toto puts his cold nose into my face and releases a dismal whine. I sit up and take a breath trying to calm my racing heart.

The house is still in one piece. It isn’t moving, and it’s not dark anymore. Bright sunshine floods in through the window of my little room. I spring up out of bed and, with Toto at my heels, run and open the door.

“What the…” I spurt out, looking around me in befuddled wonderment, my eyes growing bigger and bigger at the sight of my surroundings.

The cyclone must have set the house down, as soft as a cyclone could, amid a land made of beauty and horror. Chills run up and down my spine as I take in the macabre landscape before me.

Pretty birds with brilliant plumage caw and dive amongst the puce limned trees, and off in the distance is a small vermilion brook rushing along between wine soaked banks. Patches of lush greensward smeared in scarlet pepper the radiant, frightful landscape while disturbing splashes of aubergine blanket blue-green bushes everywhere.

The radiant blue-green leaves of every stately tree in my sight are flecked with varying shades of red. And from the ribbons of variegated blooms that line a bright yellow brick road doused in rosy goo, crimson drips in thick, spine-tingling globs. Vivid colors imbrued in a deep, dark redness surround me, and it sets off alarms that clench my stomach and seize my breath.

Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?

It’s an explosion of color so vivid and ominous my eyes need a more than a moment to adjust. I rub my eyes and shake my head. When I open them again, I still see a technicolor world dipped in dread. It’s as though my brain can’t process what’s before me, like it makes no sense, and the dichotomy of its beauty and wickedness jar me to my core. With my mouth agape, outright stunned, I try to assimilate the paralyzing scene.

Have I landed in some radiant, colorful hell?

Dumbstruck, I stand gazing at a polychromatic land as enchanting as it is sinister when a group of four people—three short men and one tall woman, each dressed in peculiar costumes—step out from behind a large topiary trimmed in the shape of an egg. They wear odd looking armor made of silver metals and animal skins.

Conical hats sit on their heads that have little dangling crosses around the brims that tinkle as they move. The hats of the men are robin’s egg blue, but the woman’s hat is pearl white, and under her plated platinum colored armor she wears a pure white outfit that hugs her muscular, lean body like a second skin. Tiny stars that glisten in the bright sun like diamonds bespangle the snow-white fabric while tight blue clothes of the same robin’s egg shade adorn the little men under their silver armor. On their feet are distinctive leather boots with a deep roll of the same blue at the tops, and at the soles of the shoes is caked-on mud, red and blue-black and at least an inch thick.

The little men are about as old as Uncle Henry, with long, hoary beards, while the woman looks as though she’s in her twenties or perhaps her thirties. She may look young, but her eyes read older, like she has seen a lot. She has eyes like my Aunt Em—cold, gray, and hardened. With hair as snowy as an arctic fox, styled in a severe bob that accentuates the severity of her fine features, she charges toward me in a stiff walk flanked by her men in blue. Maybe she’s an angel, welcoming me into the afterlife. Or a demon welcoming me to hell.

Wary as they draw near, their eyes slimmed in appraisal, they pause and whisper amongst themselves as if they are too suspicious to come any closer. The woman stops their conference and approaches, makes a low bow, and speaks in a velvety voice.

“Hello, and welcome, most noble Sorceress, to the land of the Munchkins. We are indebted to you for slaying the Vampire Witch of the East and for saving our unbitten.”

Uhhh… I slew a Vampire Witch?

Did she say vampire? Did she say witch? Could she be serious?

Of course she’s serious. This is hell. Why wouldn’t they have vampires and witches? Because they’re not real, that’s why. Maybe I’m hallucinating. Or maybe this is just a nightmare—I’m still asleep and haven’t woken up yet. Maybe I’ll never wake up because I’m already dead and this hell is my eternity.

The ghost white woman with pale silver armor stares at me as though she expects me to answer while more little people come out from behind trees and bushes, daring to step forward and eye me with curiosity.

Dizzy with consternation, I take a deep breath, trying to relax my knit brows, and say, “You must be mistaken. I have killed no one.”

“Ah, but your vehicle did,” replies the woman, with a laugh, “and I’d say it is the same thing. See?” she continues, pointing to the corner of the house. “There are her two feet, still sticking out from under a block of wood.”

I dare to look, and when I see it, I gasp in horror. Just under the corner of the great beam the house rests on, two feet stick out shod in shining metallic silver boots with sharp knives coming from the toes. They are covered in what looks like dripping blood. All the red around here looks like blood, some fresh and bright, some old and blackening.

“Oh, no. No,” I cry, covering my mouth in shock, “What do we do?”

“Nothing,” says the woman with a calm shrug.

“She might still be alive. Oh, please, we have to help her,” I beg, horrified by what’s happened, by what I’ve done, and by her disregard for this person’s life.

“No, she is dead,” she says with a titter, “And it is a blessing. The Vampire Witch of the East terrorized Munchkins for many years.”

“What are Munchkins?”

“Munchkins are the people who live in this land of the East,” she says with her pale brows knit, a nonplussed look in her ancient eyes. “The Vampire Witch of the East turned the poor Munchkins at her will when she needed more slaves to do her bidding, and I thank you for freeing them from the threat of being turned by her.”

“Are you a Munchkin?”

“No, but I am their friend. Even though I live in the land of the North, I do my best to protect them. I was engaged in battle with the Vampire Witch of the East when your vehicle came down and landed on her. We all thank you for ending a long struggle. I am Gayelette the Slayer Witch of the North.”

“Okay…”

Is this a joke? A crazy, messed up dream?

Disbelief overrides my good manners, and I ask, unsure of whether or not to buy any of this, “Are you a real witch?”

“Yes, but I am on the righteous side of this relentless battle. Protector of the unbitten, slayer of the bloodthirsty. Although I am not as powerful as the wicked Vampire Witch who had overrun this land because her boots made her unstoppable. If it were not for them, I would have set the people free myself. For your aid, I thank you.”

“All witches are wicked, aren’t they?” I ask, wary of this strange woman calling herself a witch.

“No,” she laughs. “There were only five witches in all the Land of Oz, and two of us—I, who lives in the North, and another who lives in the South—we are the good witches, Slayers of the Bloodthirsty, Protectors of the Unbitten. Those who dwell in the East and the West are wicked Vampire Witches. And there is the Zombie Witch Mombi up in Gillikin Country, but none of us have heard from her for a while. She stays out of things, being the wretched old crone she is. Thanks to you though, there is but one Vampire Witch left in the Land of Oz—the one who lives in the West.”

“Witches aren’t real, and neither are vampires, and neither are zombies. Not where I come from.”

“Where might that be?”

“Kansas.”

The Slayer Witch seems to think for a time, her head bowed and her eyes downcast.

“I do not know where Kansas is, for I have never heard that country mentioned before. Is it a civilized country?”

“A lot more so than here, I’m guessing.”

Where the hell am I that she’s never heard of Kansas? Another world? Another realm of demonic things? Witches and vampires and zombies—this can’t be real. It must be a nightmare.

“That accounts for it. In the civilized realm I believe there are no witches left, nor wizards, nor sorceresses, and there are no vampires, werebeasts, or zombies. The Land of Oz was never civil. We still have witches and wizards and all the aforementioned among us.”

Stupefied by every absurd thing that comes out of her mouth, I ask with a light laugh, “Wizards?”

“Yes, Oz himself is the Great Wizard. More powerful than all the rest of us together. He lives in the City of Emeralds, the only city that is a vampire free zone in all the land.”

“So… not only are there vampires and witches here, but there are zombies and werebeasts, you said?” I hope I heard her wrong.

When she gives me an affirmative nod, my heart sinks.

“Thanks to the Vampire Witches there is a plague of vampirism that has spread throughout the realm. Some people opted to become zombies or werebeasts, either for protection or immunity from the plague. Others have tried their luck, like the Munchkins, hoping to hide from the many bloodthirsty vampires throughout the land, hoping the plague will end someday and the vampires will be extinguished so they can return to a normal life.”

“Why would someone want to become a zombie over a vampire? Both options sound just as bad as the other.”

“From what I understand, zombies do not lose their souls the way vampires do, and there is also a rumor they can cure zombiism.”

“Are there Zombie-Vampires?” That seems like an even more horrifying combination.

“No,” she says and titters. “The reason people become zombies is to avoid being bitten. If a vampire bites a zombie, they are dead for good.”

“Is it the same for the werebeasts, or only on the full moon when they change into the beast version of themselves?”

“I am not sure what the moon phase has to do with it. Werebeasts are shifters, and although they can shift back into their human forms, I am told it is excruciating, so most do not do it but once. They became shifters to ward off vampires, so they remain as beasts. When they are in their beastly state, vampires know not to bite them. When a vampire bites a shifter, they transform into a monster unlike any other and end up in necrosis. The process is agonizing, and no one has survived it yet.”

“Why would someone turn into a zombie if they can become werebeasts and shift into a human at will?”

“Aside from the harrowing transformation, there is no cure for the shifters. Most believe zombiism has a cure although I am not sure how true that is.”

I want to ask another question, but the Munchkins, who have been standing by in silence, give a loud shout and point to the corner of the house where the Vampire Witch of the East lies.

“What is it?” asks Gayelette, who looks over and laughs as the feet of the dead Vampire Witch disappear, fizzling away to ash, leaving nothing but the silver, blood-soaked boots. “That’s the end of her!” Gayelette giggles in joy when the boots appear on my feet. What the… “The silver boots are yours,” she sighs, disappointment heavy in her tone. “I have been after those boots for years,” she grumbles. “But… perhaps you are the one,” she says, her eyes narrowing on me in perusal.

“The one what?” I ask, nervous to hear the answer.

“The one we have been waiting for.”

“To do what?”

“End it.”

“End what?”

“We have been fighting a relentless battle. Perhaps you are the one to end the struggle.”

“Me? No,” I say, shaking my head.

“The boots have chosen you.”

“Boots of a Vampire Witch chose me? Lady, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I am nobody with no skills to fight a battle. I’m just a girl from Kansas. You can keep the damn boots—I don’t want them,” I say as I sit on the front step beneath my feet and try to take them off, but they won’t budge. “Ugh, why won’t they come off?” I grunt, struggling with the things that have clamped themselves to my feet.

She thinks for a moment before she answers. “Perhaps you will need them.”

“The Vampire Witch of the East was proud of those silver boots,” says one of the Munchkins, “and there is a charm connected with them, but what it is we never knew.”

“Ugh,” I say, giving up on the boots and standing to face them. Yeah, this is not something I need to involve myself in. “Is there a way out of here, this realm, or whatever you call it, so I can go back to my realm, the civilized realm?”

The Munchkins and Gayelette first look at one another, then at me, and shake their heads.

“At the East, close to here,” says one, “there is a great desert, but none have lived to cross it.”

“It is the same at the South,” says another, “for I have been there myself and seen it. The South is the country of the Quadlings.”

Quadlings? That’s new, but at least it sounds safer than zombies, vampires, and werebeasts.

“I am told,” says the third man, “that it is the same at the West, where the Winkies live, a country the Vampire Witch of the West rules, and she will turn you if you pass her way.”

“Turn me?”

“Into a vampire,” he clarifies.

Awesome. No thank you.

“The North is my home,” says Gayelette, “and at its edge is the same great desert that surrounds this Land of Oz. I’m afraid, my dear, you must stay. There is no way out.”

Stay here? No. Hell no.

Unable to contain my emotions any longer, I burst into tears knowing I’ll never get back to my life, a life I never got the chance to live, a life where existing was all I did, and it was never enough for me. I must have been awful to end up here in this twisted, plagued land of monsters. A few kindhearted Munchkins take out their handkerchiefs and weep along with me. I bet being stuck here is just as bad for them as it is for me, worse, enduring this dreadful place for as long as they’ve lived. It’s wrong. No soul deserves this existence.

Gayelette huffs out an irritated sigh, takes off her cap, and balances the point in her palm as she counts in a solemn voice.

“One, two, three.”

The cap morphs to a slate before my crying eyes. In big, white chalk-like marks, words appear:

DOROTHY MUST GO TO THE CITY OF EMERALDS

Gayelette takes the slate from her palm and reads the words on it.

“Your name is Dorothy?”

“Yes,” I breathe, my mouth agape in shock at seeing my name written in what I assume is magic on her hat of all things. I snap out of my stunned daze and collect myself, drying my tears with the backs of my hands.

“If you go to the City of Emeralds, perhaps the Wizard will help you.”

“Where is this city?” I ask, eager to get directions out of this accursed netherworld.

“It is in the center of the country, and the Great Wizard rules the city.”

“This wizard, is he a ‘good guy’?” I ask with a wince, hoping the answer is yes.

“He is a good Wizard. If he is a ‘guy’ I cannot tell, for I have never seen him.”

“How do I get to this City of Emeralds?” I want out of this hellhole, fast.

“You must walk there. But know that it is a long, dark, and terrible journey. I will use all the magic arts I know of to keep you from harm, and those boots should help, so do not worry.”

There is something saccharine in her words, but I ask her anyway.

“Will you come with me? Show me the way?” I beseech her. Even though I don’t think I can trust her, this woman is my only hope of making it if she’s a slayer of monsters. I won’t make it dodging vampires and zombies and werebeasts and twinkles and quadleys or whatever the heck they are.

“Sorry, no. I am busy with a life of responsibilities, and it is a long journey,” she replies, and I’m stunned by her callousness, but I can’t expect much more from a stranger. On my disheartened mien she groans. “I will give you this,” she says, and a large bag appears in her hands, like magic.

When she opens it, she displays its contents—heads of garlic, a silver cross, holy water, wooden and silver stakes, something similar to a crossbow with silver and wooden arrows, what I think is a flame thrower, some rope, a whip, and an array of sharp weapons like axes and knives of all sorts. Yikes.

“The road to the City of Emeralds is yellow brick, soaked in the blood of the victims of vampires. You cannot miss it. When you get to Oz do not fear him, for he detests that. Just tell your story and ask him to help you. That is the best I can do for you. Now I must go. I hope you enjoy the boots,” she says, finishing with a resentful grumble. “Goodbye, Dorothy of Kansas.”

The surrounding Munchkins bow low to her and wish her a pleasant journey, after which they walk away, going back to their hiding places underground or in the blood-soaked trees. With a somewhat amicable little nod, Gayelette whirls around on her left heel three times and straightway disappears much to the surprise of little Toto who barks and growls after her. When her companions do the same, they poof away in a burst of billowing white smoke.

Alone and terrified in this vivid, radiant hellhole, this crazy place, Toto and I stand transfixed, uncertain of everything. Why am I here, in hell? I did nothing to hurt anyone. I did nothing at all, except my chores, my homework, everything asked of me, and I didn’t talk back either. Fine, so I was unhappy in Kansas and I complained, but only to Toto and he’s a dog. It’s not like I whined about it to a human. I was always grateful for a place to stay, a roof over my head, and grateful for Toto. So why was I sent here? Nothing I’ve ever done warrants this. What inadvertent action did I take to deserve this? Perhaps I’ll never know.

Self-pity pervades as I reflect on my situation, wondering if this is my personal hell, a torture created just for me as a punishment for something I did unwittingly or can’t remember. Or maybe the way I looked at everything was just plain wrong, and if I can figure out the reason I’m here, then I can return or go somewhere that’s monster free.

Until I can ascertain the reason the powers-that-be cast me into this nightmare, all I can do is follow Gayelette’s instruction and find the Vampire Free Zone, the City of Emeralds. I’ll go talk to this Wizard and see what I need to do to get out of here and get back to Kansas. Still, I’m not sure if I’m dead. No one has said anything of the sort so far. They all seem to think they’re alive.

Could I have traveled to another realm? Because that’s what they’re telling me. If that’s true, then maybe this is what death is—traveling to another realm of some sort—and I ended up here, in this world overrun by vampires and witches and zombies and werebeasts, with little people who call themselves Munchkins. And what’s a twinkle and a quadley? Bizarre. Who knows what else I’ll come across in this absurd place.

If there’s some force listening, some power in charge of all this afterlife stuff, I’m begging you, please, don’t let this vivid netherworld be my eternity.

Before, I never believed in a heaven or a hell. Unconcerned with those matters, even with my parents’ death, I never thought about it much. If I ever contemplated hell, I never imagined this. So vibrant and rich-hued, I can see how it could be beautiful, but it’s steeped in blood, as if vampires have feasted in every inch of this place. Now it seems the unknowable things I never bothered with are revealing themselves. Hell is a real place, but it’s not all fire and brimstone. It’s this blood-soaked rainbow world before me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get out.

3

How I Saved a Zombie

My house murdered a woman. They say she was a vampire and a witch and evil, but I still killed her with my house. And then I stole her boots. And then she turned to ash. Dry heaves rack my body as it hits me and I rush inside, falling to my knees in front of the toilet, retching, wishing I could stop thinking about the life lost beneath the floorboards only moments before.

Once the gagging stops, sorrow overwhelms me. And I sob with guilt, with anguish, and with regret, so much regret, for the life I never lived, for the life I took, for whatever I did to deserve the horrors that await me outside these doors.

Please, forgive me. For every wrong thing I’ve done, every good thing I never did, every complaint I uttered about my gray life instead of painting my life the colors I wished it were, instead of being the colors I craved. For it all, I’m so sorry.

Just breathe.

Stop with the self-pity.

Once I pull myself up off the floor, I remind myself there is a way out of this. A colorful life is still possible. I could return home, to Earth, or the ‘Civilized Realm,’ or anywhere other than this abysmal death snare.

Did I go through some kind of wormhole?

Am I on another planet?

Maybe the cyclone was some elaborate alien abduction.

No, I must be dead. That’s the only logical explanation. If so, that would mean I didn’t kill that woman. If she was a vampire, she was already dead anyway, right?

Thoughts of disconcertion boing around in my brain, sweeping and slicing through me like a twisted game of jacks with Freddy Krueger. Torrents of cortisol flood my system, frazzling my nerves, and I shake, trembling with severe distress. I’m dead, in hell, and it’s so much weirder than I could have ever imagined. Or maybe this is purgatory, like a landing place where there is still a chance to get back to life if I do the right things, make the right moves, think the right thoughts. Maybe this is a test, and I need to ace it, do everything I can to pass.

As I nibble on some bread and pack what little food we had into the bag of weapons, I remember Aunt Em and I were going to go shopping today. Nothing more than bread, butter, and plum preserves sit on the shelves.

Do dead people need food?

Hunger pangs gnaw at my stomach, but maybe it’s only a trick of the mind. Whatever, I’ll eat what I’ve got and figure the rest out later. Into the bag it goes.

The pungent scent of my frightful journey to this terrifying land wafts from my pits, so I go to my closet to change and am reminded the only clean top in it is a gingham, button down that ties at the waist. My once best friend gave it to me as a joke after my parents died because I was moving to a farm. It came with a pair of denim cut-off short-shorts to complete the look of a stereotypical farm-girl uniform. I have yet to see anyone wear anything like this on a farm.

This gag gift was her way of trying to make light of my move to a farm in Kansas. I didn’t find it funny, and I think I hurt her feelings when I didn’t even crack a smile because we didn’t keep in touch. Maybe I should feel guilty about that.

Depression had leeched any sense of humor from me, and I hated everything about life then. My parents had just died, and I was moving away from everything and everyone I had ever known. I was angry at my parents for dying, angry at the world for sucking, so I took my mom’s old riot grrrl patches and buttons that were sacred to her—she kept them in a special memory box with the zine she made with her friends when she was a teenager and told me someday she’d let me have them—and I sewed them all over this dreaded top. It was my way of throwing my middle fingers up in the air to everyone and everything.

Aunt Emily only offered to take me out of pity, and although it seemed like something terrible then, I don’t think I ever appreciated it enough. The only thing that mattered was that my parents were dead, Emily didn’t love me the way my parents did, and life was officially awful. This stupid top represents that time for me, and it only serves as more proof this must be hell because it’s the only thing I have to wear.

My laundry was hanging on the clothesline back at the farm, and I always wait until there’s nothing left to wear to do my laundry, so this stupid shirt I would never wear under normal circumstances is the only option—my deodorant did not hold up under the trauma of flying away on a cyclone.

I bet this is another reason I am here. Laziness. Sloth is one of the seven deadly sins, isn’t it? Although I wasn’t always lazy about laundry. There was no washer or dryer on the farm, no laundromat in a twenty-mile radius, and having to wash my clothes in a bathtub and hang them on a clothesline outside to dry made me never want to do laundry. So, yeah, I’d wait until the last stitch of wearable clothing was too dirty to wear. That isn’t so bad I should go to hell for it. No one is perfect. Or are they? Do you have to be a Mother Teresa or a frigging monk to avoid a monstrous hell in the afterlife?

Even if I had a clean pair of jeans, which I don’t, I couldn’t change into them because no matter how hard I pull, I can’t get these damn boots off. I can still wash up though. Too bad I can’t change my underwear.

I pour some water from one of the few bottles I have left into Toto’s dish, drink some, and use the rest to brush my teeth and wash pertinent parts.

After packing my toothbrush and toothpaste, the rest of my bottled water, and Toto’s dish into my bag of weapons, we set out on the terrifying journey to the City of Emeralds.

“Come along, Toto. Let’s go to the City of Emeralds and ask the Great Oz how to get back to Kansas again. Sound good?” I say, and he jumps up, excited for the journey, unlike me who is trying hard not to panic. “Let’s hope we can get back home,” I say, and Toto barks in agreement.

I take a deep breath, close the door, lock it, and put the key in the small pocket of my jeans. With Toto trotting along at my side, I start on my journey through this horrific land.

There are several roads nearby but it’s easy to see the one paved with yellow bricks soaked in red blood. Scared of running into a vampire or zombie, we start out in a brisk walk, my unremovable silver-plated boots clunking on the bloody, yellow road-bed.

Throughout the walk, the sun shines and the birds sing, and after a while, I find I’m not so frightened anymore. This isn’t anywhere near as awful as I expected.

I’m surprised as I walk along to see how pretty the country is around me, aside from the bloodied blue painted fences at the sides of the road. If I don’t envision the events that cast the generous gory spatters everywhere, it’s fine. But if I do, dread seizes my insides and every step I take is nerve-racking. So I do my best to focus on something else.

Beyond the houses that line the road, overgrown fields of grain and vegetables in abundance rustle in the pleasant breeze. The Munchkins must be good farmers, able to raise large crops, but are perhaps too scared to come out and gather what they yield.

Every once in a while I pass a house, and every time I do, little people come out to catch sight of me and bow low as I go by. The homes of the Munchkins are odd looking, round, with big domes for roofs. All of them are blue, stained with blood. It seems as if blue is the on-trend color here—blue fences, blue houses, blue outfits, blue pointy hats.

Every time I pass a Munchkin they say, “Good-day, Dorothy of Kansas, Great Sorceress.”

Every time, I respond by saying, “Hi. No need to bow, thanks. I’m not a sorceress. Just a girl from Kansas, not a sorceress.”

This happens again and again, and it happens at every house I pass.

Toto and I walk all day, and as the night draws near, the sun dipping below the horizon line, I wonder where I will sleep tonight. It doesn’t seem smart to sleep out in the open with vampires running around, although I have yet to see one, but maybe that’s because it’s daytime. Nightfall is liable to be the most dangerous time to be out and about in a land of monsters.

Just a short way down the road stands a lit-up house larger than the rest. It looks like a big blue Fabergé Imperial Easter Egg with a yolk of glowing gold luminance that pours out of the filigreed windows onto the blue-green lawn before it. In the large yard, people dance, laugh, and sing as five little fiddlers play. Two long tables, one on either side of the yard, stand loaded with delicious fruits and nuts, pies and cakes—a grand feast.

The people greet me with kind smiles as I approach, saying hello and bowing.

“That’s unnecessary. There’s no need to bow.” There must be some serious oppression here if they all feel the need to bow to people.

“Dorothy of Kansas, Great Sorceress who rid the land of the evil and wicked Vampire Witch of the East, is it you?” one Munchkin asks.

The little man approaches, clinking as he comes, dressed in fine looking clothes with silver-plated armor regaled with medals that seem to be honors of some sort or another. His hairstyle is very Flock of Seagulls. On his bright, hopeful expression, I smile.

“Just call me Dorothy, please.”

“Dorothy, I am General Boq the Great, Mayor of Munchkin Land. It is my honor to have you here. Dine with us, please, and rest here for the night before you continue on your journey to the Emerald City tomorrow. We are celebrating in your honor and we were hoping you would pass along your way in time for the feast.”

“Thanks, I’d love to. This is Toto, my dog,” I tell him.

“It is an honor,” General Boq says to Toto, bowing his head to him, and Toto barks acknowledging his courtesy.

General Boq leads me to the head of the table and I am served an amazing meal of a corn soup, lamb, fruits, a salad, roasted vegetables, cakes, and pastries. I eat and eat and when I can’t eat another bite, I sit back in my chair with Toto at my feet, who has also stuffed himself with an abundance of lamb. We watch the little people dance and celebrate, and after finishing a dance with a little woman who I think may be his wife, General Boq kisses her cheek and with a broad smile on his round face, he comes and sits beside me.

“You must be a great sorceress,” he says, staring at my silver-plated boots.

“I wish I knew why everyone keeps saying that.” What’s with the sorceress label?

“They say it because you wear the silver boots and have killed the Vampire Witch of the East, and because you have white in your frock. Only witches and sorceresses wear white.”

“My shirt is blue with white checks and patches sewn all over it,” I correct, smoothing out the wrinkles in it.

“It is very kind of you to wear that. Blue is the color of Munchkin Country, and white is the good witch’s color, so we all know you are a good and kind witch.”

What do I to say to this? All these people seem to think I’m a witch, and I keep saying I’m not, but no one cares what I tell them. No matter how many times I say it. I am only an ordinary teenage girl who has come by chance of a cyclone into a strange land I thought might be hell, but it has been a nice day except for how it started, although the hell argument is still a valid one considering that little detail of everything being soaked and stained in blood.

A yawn escapes me—I’m tired from all the food and all the walking—so General Boq asks, “Would you like to retire for the evening?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to crash out,” I say before I think of my phrasing and how I came into this land. His eyes widen, not understanding what I meant, so I clarify. “Crash out means go to sleep where I come from.” He smiles, sighing in relief, and stands proffering an arm toward his house, so I stand with him.

“A place called Kansas?” he asks as he leads me and Toto into the house.

“Yeah,” I say with a smile.

“Kansas,” he repeats as though he’s committing the name to memory, “What is it like?” he asks, brimming with curiosity.

“Gray. Very gray. The land, the sky, the foliage, grass, all gray, burnt from the sun. It’s not even close to how colorful it is here.”

“Gray like silver, like the boots you wear?”

“No, a dull gray that doesn’t shine or sparkle like a metal. It’s dreary looking compared to here. But there are no vampires or zombies or werebeasts or twinkles and quadleys,” I say, and he laughs.

“Winkies and Quadlings,” he corrects, amused.

“Right,” I say with a nod.

“It must be nice to live free of such terrible plagues.”

“Plague-free is a plus. There are diseases, but none that turn you into monsters. They make you sick, but we have medicines to combat most. I wouldn’t mind more color in my life there though. Other places in my realm outside of Kansas, also free of monsters and vampire plagues, are far more colorful than where I live.”

“If you return to your land one day, perhaps you may go to the more colorful places.”

“I will if I am lucky enough to get home, although I thought maybe… Could it be that I’m dead? That this place is the afterlife?” I ask and he laughs.

“Oh, goodness, no. You are very much alive, my dear. We all are, at least those of us who are not undead or bitten. The living in this realm are very much alive,” he says with a giggle and I sigh with relief. “I do not know what is to come once our lives are over, although it seems neither do you,” he says and giggles again.

“Yeah, I sure don’t. I thought maybe this was some twisted and absurd hell.”

“Hell? I do not know of this realm.”

“I’m not sure it exists.”

“It appears you are from the Civilized Realm, or at least that is what we call it here. There are no witches or bitten or undead there. Just the living.”

“That sounds like the place.”

“It may not be as colorful, but it has its advantages I imagine. If I knew how to travel there, I would. Perhaps we all would to avoid the plague. Even if it is gray and dull, it is a far better alternative to becoming undead or a werebeast, and a much better alternative to being bitten,” he says as he opens a door to a beautiful bedroom with a plush bed adorned in blue linens that is calling my name. “This room shall be yours. You are welcome to stay here whenever you are in Munchkin Land. My door is always open to you,” he says, and I smile.

“General Boq, thank you so much.”

“Oh, please, call me Boq,” he says, taking a cue from me. I nod with an appreciative smile, and he leaves me and Toto to have a good night’s rest while he rejoins the celebration.

I drop my bag of weapons on the divan and walk over to the bed. It’s short, which is a good thing considering I can’t take off the boots. Ready to conk out, I pull down the plush comforter to reveal blue sheets made of a fine cloth. When I pull up the linens and get in, my boot clad feet hang off the end, uncovered. Toto curls up on the lush blue rug beside the little but very comfortable bed and we both drift off to sleep.

* * *

Toto wakes me up by licking my face, as usual, and I almost forget where I am, but the memory comes back soon enough.

“I’m up! I’m up,” I say as I sit up in bed.

After a yawn and a stretch, I go into the bathroom attached to the room, wash up, brush my teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste I brought, and head out into the house with Toto at my heels.

In the dining room, General Boq sits at the table set with a beautiful breakfast of pastries, fresh milk, warm bread, butter, fruits, juices, eggs, and bacon. As I watch a tiny Munchkin toddler play with Toto, who loves it, I eat a heartier breakfast than I have ever eaten. When she pulls his tail, he spins in circles, chasing it to amuse her, which it does. She squeals and laughs in excitement. It’s adorable and I have a blast watching this display of abundant cuteness.

Part of me wonders if I’ll ever fall in love, get married, have a kid. I might never make it out of here. I could get blood-sucked or eaten by a werewolf or a zombie just trying to travel home. General Boq insists I am alive, and if that is the case, then finding a way home is a possibility, and according to that tablet-hat of Gayelette’s, the way there is by going to the City of Emeralds.

“Toto is quite a curiosity,” General Boq says, sitting beside his wife at the breakfast table across from me, watching his daughter play with him.

“He is?”

“I have never seen his kind before, and he speaks a language I have never heard.”

“Toto is a dog. He is my pet. My companion,” I explain.

“Your companion? As in your husband?”

“No! Goodness no,” I say laughing. “He is my pet, an animal who lives with me, who I care for, and he cares for me too. He is like a bird or an animal you might find in the forest, but he is a domesticated animal, meant to live in a house, with me, although he could live in the wild, perhaps far better than I could. Dogs travel in packs when they are wild though, and Toto isn’t wild.”

“Ah, I see,” he says, getting it. “We do not have his kind in our realm but there are similar things that exist here. We call one a cat,” he tells me.

“Yeah, we have those in my realm too. Cats and dogs are the most common domesticated animals. People also have birds they keep in cages in their homes, and some keep lizards, snakes, many animals.”

“Oh my! What other animals do you have in the civilized realm?” he asks, his curiosity piqued.

“Well, we raise cows on the farm where I’m from in Kansas, for meat and for milk.”

“We have cows. We also have pigs, which is what you are eating now. Do you have pigs in your realm?”

“We do.”

“For the feast last night, we had an animal we call a lamb.”

“I know, we have those too.”

“Perhaps I would like the civilized realm.”

“Maybe,” I say with a shrug.

“What is wrong with it?” his wife asks me.

“I was very bored there,” I admit.

“Here there is not much possibility for that,” she says.

Perhaps I should be careful what I wish for because despite the colorless nature of my life in Kansas, I’d rather be there than here. But it is nice here with General Boq, with such beautiful surroundings. As I travel to the City of Emeralds though, I’m bound to come across these monsters everyone seems so afraid of. There is blood everywhere.

“How far is it to the City of Emeralds?” I ask them.

“I do not know,” answers Boq, “for I have never been there. Better for people to keep away from Oz unless they have business with him. It is a long way to the Emerald City, and it will take you many days. Although the country here is rich and pleasant, you must pass through rough and dangerous places, riddled with the bitten, werebeasts, and the undead before you reach the end of your journey.”

However worrisome that is, if I want to get back to Kansas, I have no choice. I have a bag of weapons, not that I know how to wield them, or how to fight anyone much as well a vampire, or a werewolf, or a zombie of all things, but at least I have them. It seems that only the Great Oz can help Toto and me get back to Kansas, and he is in the City of Emeralds, so I will be courageous, and I resolve not to turn back.

As I gather my bag of weapons, Boq and his wife pack me a lunch to bring along for Toto and myself, which I put in my bag, and we bid our new friends goodbye.

“Boq, thank you so much, and if I find the way to the civilized realm, I will try to get you directions,” I tell him, and he laughs.

“Well, I would love to come and visit someday.”

“I’d love that too,” I tell him, and again, Toto and I start along the bloody road of yellow brick.

Past General Boq’s house there is only farmland and fields of varying overgrown crops, but now, perhaps because I killed the Vampire Witch, I see Munchkins working the land. All of them bow at the sight of me, and I wave and say hi, but after a while, fewer people are around.

After about five miles of brisk walking, I stop to eat the lunch General Boq gave Toto and me, so I take out Toto’s dish and pour in some water from my bottle, keeping the rest for myself. Boq’s cook prepared me a roast chicken with potatoes, carrots, and onions while they gave Toto a container of leftover lamb scraps. As I open it, Toto jumps for joy, his bloodhound nose smelling what awaits him. When I put it out for him, he gobbles away.

Beside the road is a fence that encircles a great cornfield, so to get a better view of anyone who may come our way, I climb to the top and sit on it. With Toto at my feet, I eat my lunch. Twenty feet away, a Scarecrow stands high on a wooden cross to keep the birds from the ripe corn, and I bet the cross keeps the vampires away too.

As I eat my delicious lunch, I lean my chin upon my hand and gaze at the Scarecrow, raised above the stalks of corn with the pole stuck up its back. The more I look at it, the more I realize it looks very much like a man, an actual man. In an old, pointed blue hat that had to have belonged to some Munchkin, the Scarecrow looks like a tall man unlike most of the Munchkins I’ve met. Like most people around here, it wears a blue outfit, but it’s worn and faded with tears and holes that fray on the edges. On its feet are old boots with blue tops, like the Munchkin men with Gayelette, which are also very similar to the boots pretty much every man wears around here.

As I peer at it, examine it, the eyes blink, startling me, and I gasp. My eyes must be playing tricks on me. I rub them and look at it again and it nods its head.

“Wait here, Toto,” I say, and he pays me no mind, chowing down on what’s left of his lamb.

I jump off the fence and walk up to it.

“Good day,” says what I thought was a Scarecrow, in a rather husky voice.

“You speak?”

“Yes, I do,” it answers. “How do you do?”

“Uh, I’m well, thank you. How are you doing?”

“I’m not feeling well,” he says, with a smile, “for it is very tedious being nailed up here all night and day.”

“You can’t get down on your own?”

“No, some vampires nailed me to it. If you could please take the nails out, I shall be obliged to you.”

“Why didn’t the vampires just drink your blood, or turn you?”

Something is up with this guy. The closer I look at him the more I see how strange he is. He looks like a man, but his skin is grayish and his cuts are black.

“I am a zombie. I did it when the plague hit. Preventative measures. Worst mistake I ever made,” he says, and sighs.

“You’re a zombie?” I ask, backing up.

“I don’t eat people, don’t worry. Well, people’s brains. All I eat now is brains, but I stick to animals. The hunger is relentless. All I think about is brains, brains, brains, and my appetite for them is ever increasing. All I want all the time is brains, and the thought runs in my head all day and night. Brains, brains, brains, I need brains. It’s terrible.”

“If I take you down, you won’t try to eat my brains?” I ask, still very wary of him.

“No, I promise you I would never, could never do such a deplorable thing. Most of us who chose this route do not eat the brains of people. Harming people was what we were trying to avoid. If a vampire bites you and does not drain you, then you hurt people. If you are alive, a vampire will bite you. But if you are an undead, as I am, the bitten cannot bite you and survive which is why we do it. Although I wish I had done something else. Perhaps becoming a werebeast would have at least given me a better chance at a normal life. Yes, you become hybridized with an animal and can become wild and ravenous, but if you want to remain safe against a vampire, it helps and is far better than being an undead. And I dare say it is far better than a relentless need to eat brains.”

“What about my dog, Toto? You won’t try to eat his brains either?”

“I have never seen a Toto but no, I will not. I swear it.”

“If you do, I have a bag full of weapons and won’t hesitate to use them,” I warn, and he smiles.

“I give you my word.”

Even though he seems nice enough, it could all be an act, a trap to lure me close enough to bite me. But I also promised myself I would be more helpful to others and if he isn’t lying, he needs the help. So, I go to my bag and find a silver hammer, bring it over to him, and as I pry one nail from one of his hands, he sighs with relief. When I remove them from his boots, he falls, dangling by just one hand. In haste, I pry the nail out of his other hand and his body drops to the ground. When he picks himself up his movements are jelly-like, I assume because he’s been up there a while, but he moves around as best he can, working his joints, shaking himself out. Although I shouldn’t laugh, it’s funny to watch, and I giggle. I can’t help it.

“Oh, thank you very much,” he says and smiles. “I feel like a new man. Who are you?” he asks as he stretches himself out with a loud groan. “And where are you going?”

“My name is Dorothy, and I’m going to the City of Emeralds to ask the Great Wizard to send me back to Kansas.”

“The Emerald City? That’s the Vampire Free Zone. Oh, it’s supposed to be beautiful, and I hear they have many undead like me who live there, and an abundant supply of brains for my kind,” he says with a wistful swoon.

“There is?” Something about that unnerves me.

“Yes. What a relief it would be to eat whenever I please without having to hunt. More than that though, what I want is to rid myself of this state. There is a rumor that the Great and Terrifying Wizard has cured some of us, but they had to pay a high price and I have little. Before the plague hit and I made the mistake of becoming a zombie, I worked security at this farm and although it paid well enough, I am not a rich man. If I go to the Emerald City with you, do you think the Great and Terrifying Wizard would give me the cure, or perhaps allow me some of their supply of brains?”

“Gosh, I have no clue. But you can come with me, and if the wizard won’t give you any cure, or any brains, you’ll be no worse off than you are now.”

“True. Anything would be better than this, and if it doesn’t work out, I am no worse off than I am now considering this is about as bad as it gets.”

“If you come with me, I will ask Oz to do all he can for you, and I have these boots everyone seems to think make me important, so maybe he’ll listen.”

“Oh, thank you.”

After helping him over the fence, I put away the other half of my unfinished lunch and the silver hammer, then we all walk back to the road, starting along the path of blood-stained yellow brick for the Emerald City.

Toto doesn’t like the Zombie at first. He smells around the undead man and growls at him.

“Don’t mind Toto,” I tell him. “He never bites.”

“Oh, I’m not afraid. He can’t hurt me. But if he bites me, he’ll become undead too, so it’s in his best interest not to.”

Yeesh, I hope Toto doesn’t get any funny ideas.

“I cannot get tired, so please, allow me to carry that bag for you. I shall not mind it.”

As he takes up my bag, throwing it over his shoulder as we walk along, he leans in and says, “Let me tell you a secret. Only one thing in the world scares me now that I am an undead.”

“The vampires who nailed you up on that cross?”

“No,” answers the Zombie; “It is fire.”

4

The Blood-Soaked Road Through the Forest of Deadly Things

After a few hours of walking, the road becomes rough with cracked, crumbling bricks and gaping holes. Overgrown roots of surrounding trees pushed through from beneath the road, severing entire sections, lifting them three and four feet before breaking the road altogether. The terrain grows so difficult that the Zombie stumbles over the uneven, bloody yellow bricks. Toto jumps across and I walk around, but the Zombie drags straight ahead, stepping into the holes and falling prostrate on the hard bricks. It never hurts him, and each time he falls I help him up, setting him on his feet again while he joins me in laughing at his ungainliness.

The farms we pass are less and less well cared for. There are fewer houses and fewer fruit trees, and the farther we go the scarier and more dismal the country becomes.

At sunset we sit down by the roadside, near a little bloody brook, and I open my bag and take out the bread. When I offer a piece to the Zombie, he refuses.

“No, I can’t eat regular food anymore,” he sighs, “But I’ll go hunt. I’ll be right back,” he says and drags off into the dark forest that surrounds us. I feed Toto some chicken and take some for myself along with the roasted vegetables I didn’t eat earlier. Halfway through my meal the Zombie returns with some bird heads, ripped from their bodies. He sits across from me, rips open their skulls with his bare hands and sucks out their brains, one after the other.

“Bird brains for dinner,” he says with a smile.

I don’t know what to say to that, so I nod and chuckle as I go on eating my bread.

“Tell me something about yourself and the country you came from,” says the Zombie as he finishes his dinner.

“The place I come from people here call the Civilized Country or the Civilized Realm, although I’m not sure how civilized it is. There are no zombies or witches or vampires or werebeasts or things like that though. That’s the biggest plus. Otherwise, I kind of hated where I lived, the life I lived.”

“Kansas?” he clarifies.

“Yeah, where I lived it was all gray. Everything about my life there was gray. Gray skies, gray land, gray people, gray life,” I sigh.

“Gray like silver, like your boots?”

“No. No shimmer or sparkle, nothing like that. The most exciting thing that’s happened since I moved to Kansas was the cyclone that brought me here. Aside from all the blood, this place is a lot nicer, far prettier than Kansas. At least where I lived. There are nicer places in the realm I’m from, but I haven’t been to any of them. I want to go though. I want to do so many things.”

“Like what?”

“Live life to the fullest, and be selfless, do selfless things, things that are good for everyone, not just me. On my ride over here, I realized that’s something I need to focus on, and the first thing that happens when I land is that I kill a Vampire Witch and steal her boots,” I sigh.

“Um, wait, what was that last part?”

“It was an accident. I killed the Vampire Witch of the East, and when she fizzled away to ash, her silver boots appeared on my feet. Gayelette, she’s a slayer witch from the North, she seemed upset about that. She wanted them. I tried to take them off, but I couldn’t. They’re stuck on.”

“Huh, I wonder what that’s about,” he contemplates.

“Maybe the wizard will know what to do about it.”

“I don’t understand why you wish to leave this beautiful realm to go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas. Why don’t you stay? Once you get to the Vampire Free Zone, you will be safe from vampires, and I hear Emerald City is a beautiful city.”

“Well, I guess, no matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we civilized, living people would rather live there than in any other place, however beautiful these other places may be. It must be true what they say—there’s no place like home.”

The Zombie sighs.

“For the Civilized Realm it’s a good thing that’s true, because you might all live in the beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all. It is fortunate for Kansas that it is in a Civilized Country.”

“So, what about you? What’s your story?”

“Oh, I made a terrible mistake, becoming a zombie. I thought I was making a smart decision. The plague hit and vampires turned or feasted on everyone around me. I was a watchman, a guard for the farm where you found me. I made sure the farm stayed safe and had no thieves, man or animal alike. Security was my specialty. But I couldn’t be effective at my job anymore because of the werebeasts in particular, for they were the ones who breached security at my farm more and more. Werebeasts became braver being more ferocious than any man or animal. I had to fear being bitten and dealing with much more ferocious men and animals than ever before. Many people were taking to zombiism to prevent the plague and to combat the werebeasts, and I met a spice salesman who sold me on the idea.”

“A spice salesman?”

“A spice from a far-off country causes zombiism. The spice salesman told me there was a cure and when the plague was over, I could return to my living state, but it was false advertising. That is what they have told me since. One person told me that the Great and Terrifying Wizard of Oz has the cure the spice salesman spoke of, so this trip could be just what I need. The salesman was very convincing, and I did not understand what it would be like. Vampires do not bite me, for they will die for good if they do, and the whole point of being a vampire is to be immortal, drinking the life blood of other beings for sustenance, but being a zombie is no better. The only difference is that I have no pain, only one fear, and I eat brains instead of drinking blood. I am undead now and it is terrible. I never sleep, never dream. Oh, I miss my dreams. And I had many good dreams. So now instead of sleep and dreams, I have a relentless hunger for brains. If I eat a brain, I absorb the thoughts and knowledge of the being whose brains I have eaten. That is quite a strange experience, similar to having dreams, but not as pleasant in most cases. The thoughts of animals are not much to speak of, aside from pigs. Pigs are intelligent. That was surprising to discover.”

“There’s a pet pig on a neighboring farm where I live, and his owner swears it can read books,” I tell him with a laugh.

“I believe it,” he nods.

“Perhaps now I do too, after hearing how intelligent they are from you.”

“It makes it hard for me to eat their brains, knowing how smart they are. I prefer to eat less intelligent animals, like birds with tiny brains. Bird brains are a typical meal for me. Although the taste is terrible, I feel far less guilty about it. Ugh, I hate being a zombie.”

“What happened that got you nailed to that pole?”

“Some vampires were passing by the farm where I work and wanted to feed on me, thinking I was a living man, but when they came close enough and smelled I was an undead, they had fun with me instead. I fought them, damaged a few, but there were too many of them to overcome alone. One got a hold of me and they nailed me up there. They stuck me up there yesterday. I’m glad you came by.”

“Me too. It’s nice to have someone to talk to,” I admit, and he smiles.

“It is, and I can help to protect you on the journey. I am quite an experienced fighter, well trained. Before the plague, I was great at my job.”

“I appreciate it. Even though I have this bag of weapons, I do not know how to wield them at all.”

“May I see?” he asks and I open the bag to show him all I have. “Where did you get it all?” he asks, amazed at everything inside.

“The Witch of the North, Gayelette, gave it all to me for the journey.”

“This is very lucky. It will be helpful. We should keep them strapped to us. There are holsters in here,” he says and pulls out leather straps.

“That’s smart,” I agree and groan a yawn.

“We should find a place for you to rest for the night. In the memories of two of the birds brains I ate, I saw there is a cottage that looks abandoned off the yellow brick road where it leads into the forest. Perhaps that would be a good place,” he says, and I should rest soon. “I can keep watch while you and Toto sleep. Then we can continue in the morning when you wake,” he says and stands, so I close up the bag, put it on my shoulder, and he leads us to the cottage he saw.

* * *

There are no fences at all by the roadside now. Through rough and untilled land, the road leads us into a great forest where the trees grow so big and close together that their branches meet over the road of blood-soaked yellow brick shutting out the daylight, and the road grows dark.

“Don’t worry. If this road goes in, it must come out,” says the Zombie seeing my hesitation, “and as the Emerald City is at the other end of the road, we must go wherever it leads us no matter what, but if the memories of the birds are correct, there is a cottage nearby.”

After an hour, the remaining light fades away, and we stumble along in the darkness. Although I can’t see at all, Toto can, and the Zombie says he can see just as well as if it were day. So, I take hold of his arm and get along well. Soon after, the Zombie stops.

“At the right of us, I see the little cottage,” he says, “built of logs and branches. It’s the one.”

“Sounds great, because I’m all tired out.”

The Zombie leads Toto and me through the trees until we reach the cottage and it’s just as he said, from what I can see. All wood, small, and abandoned. He shoves open the door for me and I enter with Toto at my heels. There’s nothing inside but a bed of dried leaves in one corner.

“I’ll be by the window keeping watch, so you can sleep without worry,” the Zombie tells me, and I lay down at once with Toto beside me. While the Zombie stands by the window waiting for morning to come, I fall right to sleep.

5

My Run-in with the Heartless Axe Murderer

Unlike the usual wet nose and little licks that wake me with affection every morning, today it’s vicious, angry barks that cause my tired eyes to fly open. More alert than I was a moment ago, I scan the cabin to find I am the only one in it as Toto’s threatening barks bellow in succession from outside. Toto can be fierce when he wants to be, but aggression is unusual for him.

Worried, knowing something is wrong, I shoot up out of my bed of leaves, hurry over to my bag of weapons, take out the biggest sword I can find, and hope it will scare whatever it is away. Long and silver and sharp, it looks like the sword of a samurai.

Faster than I’ve ever moved, I hurry to the door and throw it open to see a man covered in armor—head, face and all—with axes strapped to every spot an axe could be, and he’s attacking the Zombie with an axe in each hand. He swings in sweeping, swirling movements while the Zombie bends and deflects his every advance. Toto runs around them barking threats at the Axeman, and despite his dragging, the Zombie is agile and spry. When he said he was a good fighter, he wasn’t kidding.

Evasive but also kicking like he’s a Kung Fu master, the Zombie flips around to avoid getting hit as he protects Toto and attacks the Axeman at the same time. He kicks an axe out of the man’s hand, but the Axeman just pulls another from his body and attacks again. This time he turns to attack Toto, who is growling at him, baring his teeth. Fury and fear rush through me as I step forward and the Axeman swings. Toto jumps back, growling out a growl I’ve never heard from him—he’s pissed. And so am I.

Before the Axeman can swing again, I run out toward them, my sword raised, ready to protect my dog and slice the man if I must. As I run, charging into the fray, my boots grow around my body, creating a full body armor that covers all of me but my face. Now plated with silver, I attack, moving like I’ve never moved, like the Zombie was, but even faster, flipping through the air as I make my way to them, baring my sword that swings and slices in a smooth and beautiful pattern, as if it were in a battle scene of a martial arts movie.

Without even intending to, I go to strike the Axeman, my new suit of armor controlling my motion. The Zombie backs up, grabbing Toto from harm’s way as the Axeman swings back at me. Lithe and wiry, I dodge and hit back, but his armor prevents me from slicing him in two, and I close the gap between us. With force and celerity, he hits me with a hard punch, and then another, but I don’t stumble because my armor takes the brunt of the hit. That punch should have hurt me, but I’m not even rattled. We fight in a massive display—fists and feet, knees and elbows—and he is as adroit as my suit of armor. At every point of contact, the armor protects me from any impact, and he seems to wear a suit like mine.

Because I know this could go on for a while, I decide to subdue him. Once the thought enters my mind, my suit does the work for me. Within seconds I am holding him face first on the ground, and he struggles under my knee but to no avail. When I flip him over, I grab hold of his helmet, and rip it off.

Wow.

The hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life just tried to kill my dog, my friend, and me. It’s unfortunate he’s a bad guy. He’s so hot he’s scorching, in his early twenties I’d guess, with the most perfect chiseled features, flawless skin, full lips, hair like spun gold, and enrapturing green eyes filled with rage. Well, I’m furious too.

“Hey, pretty boy, what’s your problem?” If he’s not a vampire, or a zombie, or a werebeast, why is he trying to hurt us?

“You are, vampire,” he seethes, eyes narrowed.

“You’re looking at a living human, Dick Vader. What’s with the getup?”

“What did you say?”

“Why are you trying to hurt my dog and my friend?”

“He’s a zombie, and that’s a werebeast,” he says as if it’s obvious why he’s attacking, still struggling under me.

“That zombie is my friend, and that is not a werebeast, it’s my pet, an animal, you idiot,” I say, and he stops struggling. “If I let you up will you stop attacking?” I ask him with a squinted eye, and he sighs.

“Yes, as long as they don’t, I won’t,” he says.

When I rise, letting him free, he kicks his legs in unison and jumps to his feet in one motion. He moves right into a fighting stance, already on the defensive.

“No one will attack you, relax,” I tell him, and after a moment he does, his body loosening.

When it’s clear he will not attack again, my armor disappears back into my boots, my sword still in my hand, and the Axeman’s eyes widen in fear at the sight of me while the Zombie looks impressed.

“What sort of sorceress are you?” the Axeman asks.

“Just a person, not a sorceress—it’s the boots,” I explain, and he looks at them with curious, squinting eyes. “What’s your excuse?”

“My excuse?”

“Yeah, you’re covered head to toe in metal with axes strapped to every inch of you. What’s your deal? Why did you attack us?”

“You were in my house, and he’s a zombie, and I thought your strange animal was a werebeast of some sort.”

“Oh, you live here? Sorry, we thought it was an abandoned cabin.”

“Why are you here? How did you find me?” he asks, suspicious of us.

“We’re headed to the City of Emeralds and needed a place to sleep for the night,” I explain.

“If this is your home, where were you all night long?” the Zombie asks.

“Hunting vampires, zombies, and werebeasts,” he says with a challenging smirk. “That’s what I do. During the day, I rest when I need to, when it’s safest to let my guard down, considering you’re all night creatures.”

“Not all zombies are bad,” the Zombie defends.

“Aren’t they?” the Axeman scoffs.

“This zombie’s not,” I tell him, and he looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“Who are you?” he asks me.

“I’m not from here. I’m traveling to the City of Emeralds with my dog to find a way home. The Great Wizard will help me find it. And this nice zombie is coming along to cure his zombiism.”

“Cure?” the Axeman scoffs.

“There are murmurs throughout the land that the Great and Terrifying Wizard of Oz has a cure for zombiism, and if it’s true, I want it. Becoming a zombie was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done it. It’s awful.”

With a sigh, the Axeman softens.

“Is it true the City of Emeralds is a Vampire Free Zone?”

“Yes, why? Do you think it isn’t?” the Zombie says.

“It sounds too good to be true,” the Axeman says, not sure he believes it.

“The Slayer Witch, Gayelette, said it was,” I tell them.

“You met her?” the Axeman asks.

“When Dorothy landed here, she killed the Vampire Witch of the East,” the Zombie tells him.

“You did?” the Axeman says, his eyes widening in fear again.

“The boots of the Vampire Witch are on her feet. It’s a good thing you have them, Dorothy. The way you move is unlike anything I’ve seen,” the Zombie says in awe.

“I didn’t even feel it when he hit me,” I beam. Fear of traveling through a land of monsters ebbs knowing the boots will protect me and my friends, fighting for me when I need to.

“It seems your boots know how to wield your weapons, even if you do not,” the Zombie says with a smile, and I smile back.

“The journey to the City of Emeralds is long,” the Axeman points out.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Makes no difference to me since I have no choice but to go there.

“Where did you come from?” he asks us.

“Munchkin Land,” the Zombie says.

“That is near here. Prepare yourselves, for you will come across many vampires from here on. Munchkin Land is the Vampire Witch of the East’s turning ground, so vampires don’t enter the area often. The territory and its people belonged to her, before you killed her that is. You will encounter many as you journey on, and they travel in packs. Perhaps I will go with you,” he says, and the Zombie shakes his head.

“No, you tried to kill us,” the Zombie says with a refusing shake of his head.

“You’re a zombie, and you were in my house, and you had what I thought was a werebeast at your side and a woman who looked dead on the floor, so excuse me for attacking,” the Axeman says and scoffs.

“Why do you want to go to the City of Emeralds?” I ask him.

“I am tired of fighting all night, every night, hunting and killing vampire after vampire. More and more keep coming, and it does no good. It is endless. And zombies are just as bad, no offense,” he says to the Zombie who rolls his eyes and groans.

“The life I lead is heartless and I do not enjoy it. Last night, I killed a little girl vampire with no remorse, and she was only a child. Perhaps she was older, but she looked as though she was seven years old. She attacked me with her vampire parents, and I killed them in front of her eyes. Then I killed her. I chopped off her head, and I felt nothing. Even though I have killed so many, it has made no difference. If the City of Emeralds is a Vampire Free Zone where werebeasts, zombies, and humans all live in peace, I want to be there. I want my heart back. Do you think the wizard would allow me to stay there?” he asks me.

“I have no clue, but it’s worth a shot, right? If you can be of use to the city, contribute something… What did you do before the plague?”

“My father was a lumberman, and I was planning to go into his business when the plague hit.”

“He was a lumberman? Does that mean…”

“Vampires turned him, so I had to kill him. He made me promise I would if it happened, so I know I honored him and his wishes. But that is not what made me the heartless killer I am now.”

“What did?” asks the Zombie.

“As I said, I was born the son of a lumberman who chopped down trees in the forest and sold the wood for a living. When I grew old enough, I was to become a woodchopper. Before my mother died, she made me promise to find a woman to marry, so that when my father passed, I might not be alone. There was one Munchkin girl who was so beautiful that I soon grew to love her, and she promised to marry me as soon as I could earn enough money to build a better house for her, so I set to begin work with my father.

“The girl lived with an old woman who did not want her to marry anyone, for she was so lazy she wished the girl to remain with her, cook, and do the housework, to be the one to risk getting the plague so the old woman could stay protected inside. The old woman made a deal with the Vampire Witch of the East and promised her information on Munchkins and their hiding places if she would prevent the marriage. This meant turning me or feasting on me. Thereupon the Vampire Witch of the East set her vampires on me.”

“Whoa,” I breathe.

“There was a man, a silversmith named Ku-Klip who could make anything you asked, so I went to the silversmith and had him make me this armor. It works well, and I wear it always. This angered the Vampire Witch of the East, for she had promised the old woman I should die, so she set them on my father to anger me in return.

“I went back to the silversmith, and he made my father a suit of armor almost identical to mine, but it was too difficult for my father to work in, so the moment he removed the armor on his chopping arm she set her minions on him, but instead of draining him, they turned him. There was no other choice but to follow his wishes, and I freed him when she set him after me. I knew I had honored him the way he would have wanted me to, and he was now with my mother so I could find peace in that.

“Foolhardy as ever, I thought I had beaten the Vampire Witch, and I worked even harder to make the money to build my house and marry the Munchkin girl I loved, but I little knew how cruel my enemy could be. Wicked as she is, the soulless witch thought of a new way to kill my love for the beautiful Munchkin maiden and turned her next. She set my love on me then, to turn me, and forced me to impale her, to strike her through the heart. That is how I became heartless.

“When they turned the Munchkin girl, I lost all my love for her, and did not care if I married her. She became as wicked as the witch and tried to turn me, tried to kill my soul. There was no other choice but to free her from eternal blood-thirst, so I found solace in that, but my heart died that night.

“It was a terrible thing to undergo, but during the past year I have hunted hundreds of vampires attempting to turn me and others, and I resolved to protect the Munchkins and anyone else from the Vampire Witch and her minions—vampire, zombie, and werebeast alike—and that is what I have done ever since.

“There has been a lot of time for me to think while waiting in the shadows hunting evil night creatures. While I was in love, I was the happiest man in the realm, but no one can love who has not a heart, and as long as I am living this life of hunting vampires, zombies, and werebeasts, there is no way I could not be heartless. To be heartless is a requirement for what I resolved to do. The greatest loss I have known was the loss of my heart, not my love.

“Now I know the Vampire Witch of the East is dead, and I resolve to ask the Great and Terrifying Wizard of Oz to allow me to stay in the Vampire Free Zone, where the Vampire Witches have no minions, in the Emerald City. If he does, I will try to regain peace and perhaps fall in love once again, because having a heart filled with love is the truest happiness, and happiness is the best thing in all the realms.

“The time to end the hunt is now. Let me travel with you, for I couldn’t go alone. Together we could make it there and have hope of safe arrival. Your zombie is a fine fighter, and those boots of yours, they make you a fierce contender. Along with your animal, we stand a chance. I am very strong with an axe and have killed hundreds of night creatures,” he says, determined to join our party.

“It makes sense,” I say.

“No, we don’t need him. This man is a target and a liability,” the Zombie whispers but the Heartless Axeman hears despite his attempt at discretion.

“If you had any idea what is coming your way, you would not refuse me. If you are following the road to the city, you will encounter innumerable vampires, zombies not so kind as yourself, and vicious werebeasts. The two of you alone, even with your skills, and her boots, it will not be enough. If any of us will have any chance at all to make it there, you need me, and I need you,” he says with a steely-eyed conviction.

“It couldn’t hurt to have someone else along who is skilled at fighting them,” I say to the Zombie.

“Fine, you are right,” the Zombie grumbles, irritated to have him along but still recognizing we could use the help.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

“Nick. Nick Chopper,” he says.

“Dorothy Gale,” I say and reach out my hand to shake his and he looks at it bewildered. I guess they don’t shake hands here. Out of politeness, he takes my hand in his, and we shake. When I smile at him, he smiles back, and it makes him even more handsome. “And this is Toto,” I say referring to my dog, who still growls at him.

He kneels down and reaches out his hand to shake. Toto knows that trick and stops growling to put his paw in Nick’s hand. Toto sniffs him and then stops his growling altogether.

“My name is Millard Vorona, but you may call me Ardie,” the Zombie says.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Nick says to him with a nod. The Zombie, or Ardie, nods back.

“You must eat, Dorothy, before we go on our way,” Ardie the Zombie reminds me.

“Have you eaten?” I ask Nick the Axeman.

“No, I haven’t.”

“There’s bread and leftover chicken if you’d like to join me,” I say, and he smiles.

“I’d love to, thank you.”

There’s no doubt he’s older than me. If he was trying to get engaged, he’d have to be. And he’s so handsome it’s stupefying. With golden hair that offsets bright green eyes, and his chiseled features only highlight his full lips. All I can see of him is his face, but I’m sure the rest of him is gorgeous too. But he’s a grown up, and I’m not staying here. I’m leaving, going back to Kansas, and he’s got issues. So, just friends will work. A guy like him wouldn’t like me anyhow—I’m a child next to him. Seventeen and at least twenty-something is too big a gap at this point. Maybe when I’m in my twenties too, dating a guy that much older wouldn’t be weird, but now…

“How old are you?” I ask him as I hand him some bread and a chicken leg, and he smiles.

“Nineteen years old. How old are you?”

“Seventeen. You seem older.”

“Because I sleep little, and I kill things all night long.”

“I’m twenty-four,” Ardie says.

“You will be forever now,” Nick says.

“Not if I can help it—I will kick this. I’m getting a cure from the Wizard,” Ardie says.

“Ardie, do you need to eat?” I ask him.

“No, I went hunting with Toto this morning. He’s a great help hunting,” Ardie says.

“It’s what he’s bred for. He must have had a blast with you. I don’t hunt and he’s born to do it.”

Toto barks in agreement. When I give Toto some chicken, I notice it’s almost gone. If it’s a long trip, we will need to get more food, and more water.

“Is there anywhere to get clean water?”

“There’s one clean stream nearby,” Nick says.

“Good. I have to stop there before we go back to the road.”

“We shall go after we eat.”

Having water is a definite plus, but what worries me the most is that I am almost out of bread. Another meal for myself, Nick, and Toto will empty the bag. There’s trail mix from Boq left, chicken scraps for Toto, just enough bread for Nick and me, and that’s it. We need to find food somewhere. Maybe we’ll pass fruit trees along the way.

We finish our food, and I pour water from one bottle into Toto’s bowl, give one to Nick and keep one for myself, and we drink the rest of what’s in the bottles.

“The stream is close by and we must come back this way to get to the road,” Nick says.

“I will stay here with Toto and hunt for a snack,” Ardie says and Toto jumps up hearing the word hunt.

“All right, we’ll meet you back here soon,” I say and rub Toto’s head goodbye.

Nick and I head out into the thick of the woods that surround his cabin.

“You are trying to return home?” he asks me.

“Yeah, I’m from a place nothing like this one.”

“What is it like?”

“People here call it the Civilized Realm,” I tell him.

“Ah, yes. No vampires, werebeasts, zombies, or witches—sounds like a dream.”

“Well, it is, and it isn’t. Life isn’t so bad there. Some people have it rough; others have a great setup. My life is neither—it’s not good, not bad, hard but not too hard, lonesome but not too lonesome. Life where I live is gray in every way, but when I go back, I will do different things, be different, go different places that are more colorful, have adventures, and I will help people in need, not just live for myself alone. That’s what I realized on the trip here, that I led a self-focused life.”

“What would you do for others?”

“Whatever people need, I’d try to help,” I say and shrug.

“That sounds like a noble pursuit.”

“What about you? When you get to the Emerald City, what do you want to do?”

“Relax for a while, and I want to fall in love, but I also want to be of use, be helpful, like you do.”

“Yeah, I want to fall in love too—I’ve never been in love,” I admit.

“I am not sure I have either. When Nimmie Amee turned, I did not hesitate to kill her. Yes, she wasn’t who she was, but…”

“You feel guilty?”

“No, I don’t. That is why I am not so sure I loved her. She was beautiful, striking, but her woman kept us apart, and she could have been with me even though I did not have a house as large as she hoped for. But she didn’t. Instead, she said she would only be my wife if I could provide a large home and a more opulent, abundant lifestyle than I could provide for her. That is not love. Perhaps I loved her, and she did not love me.”

He stops speaking and looks pensive as we walk, and I allow him the moment of quiet reflection, not saying a word.

“Or perhaps I only found her to be beautiful,” he finally says. “I thought of her often before she became a vampire, but since they forced me to kill her, I only think of her when I think of how I have lost my heart, how I have hardened. For a long time, I have had no pleasant contact with anyone. This is the first nice interaction I have had in a long while.”

“What were you like before the plague?”

“A romantic,” he says with a wistful smile. “When I promised my mother I would find a wife, it became the thing I looked forward to most in my life. That feeling is what I want back, that hope for love… This is the stream.”

A few feet away lies a sparkling stream of crystal-clear water. I hurry over and fill all the empty bottles then cap them tight before I drink from the stream and wash my face in it.

“I think I’ll wash up,” I tell him.

“Right, I will give you privacy,” he says with a nod and steps away down the stream behind a tree.

No one is in sight, so I take off my blue and white checked blouse, my bra too, and wash under my arms, my neck, my face, behind my ears, then I take down my jeans to my knees and get clean, as clean as I can without being able to take off my pants and shoes, but I get clean nonetheless. Once I am dressed again, I head down the stream to let Nick know I am done. I pass the tree and see him in the stream, without his armor, washing up. He stands in the water up to his waist, shirtless, and I’m guessing naked, his chiseled muscles, his fair skin… When he notices me there, I turn around fast.

“Sorry,” I say embarrassed, my back to him.

“I am done,” he says, and I see his bare feet next to me.

I turn and look at him and he is in only his underwear. Granted it looks like a bathing suit, but my eyes widen anyway. Holy crap, he is a beautiful man. A sultry, cocky grin spreads over his gorgeous face, and it’s clear he knows just what I’m thinking, and I can feel my cheeks flush. “We should get going. There is a lot of road to travel before nightfall,” he says as he gathers his clothing from the ground where he left it.

“Oh… Uh, r-right,” I stutter, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Did you wash?” he asks, unsure of whether I have.

“Well… I can’t take off the boots. They’re stuck on my feet, so I washed important parts but that’s it.”

“There are many leaves in your hair,” he says, amused.

Right, I slept on a bed of leaves, and I didn’t bring a brush. Stupid.

“Yeah, I have no comb and I forgot to bring soap,” I sigh.

“Come here, I will help you,” he says, sets his clothes back down, and holds out his hand for me to take, so I do. He leads me to a rock at the bank of the stream.

“Lie back and I will get into the water,” he says, so I lay back onto the rock as he walks into the stream. “Let your hair down,” he says, so I take out my ponytail and let it hang over the rock into the water. As the water rushes by, he combs through my hair with his fingers. I look up at him as he finger combs my hair, and he smiles at me, one corner of his mouth quirking up in the sexiest grin. “I will be your comb.”

“Thanks.”

There is something intimate about this moment—he’s half naked, combing his fingers though my hair in the rushing water, it feels so nice, and he’s smiling at me in a way that makes me think—

“This is good practice for when I have a daughter,” he says, killing any romantic notion this moment may have had.

Of course he sees me as a child. Perhaps I am one next to him. He is only two years older, but I suppose my life experience is far less than his. I’ve never been in love, and he was engaged. And I may not be a virgin, but that was just out of boredom. My boyfriend was the only halfway decent guy close by and there’s nothing else to do where I live.

“There, now you are leaf free,” he tells me, and I sit up, my hair soaking wet but at least not tangled. The water is cold and pouring from my wet hair.

When I stand, water drips all over me, soaking through my patch-covered shirt that is now almost see through and clinging to my skin, I bend over and ring my hair out with my hands as he gets out of the water.

“Thanks,” I say as the water pours from the long twist I’ve created. “Ugh, I’m all wet,” I sigh. I wish I had thought to bring a towel with me.

Once I untwist my hair, I run my fingers through it. If I leave it out, it will dry faster, and I can put it in a ponytail or braid it once it’s dry. If I braid it now, it’ll hold too much water. I flip my hair to shake out any excess water, then I comb it out with my fingers, and he stands watching me wearing only his black shorts.

“Why don’t you get dressed. We should get back,” I say, and he shakes his head.

“Yes, right,” he says and puts on his pants, then his shirt, then his armor, piece after piece, until his armor covers all of him except his head. That piece he left back at the cabin. He straps the last of his axes to him when I hear a noise nearby.

“Hey, did you hear that?” I ask.

“Hear what?”

“Well, what do we have here?” a male voice says.

My head whips around to find a man with pale skin and an entourage of pale people who surround him. They wear old fancy clothing with leather and ruffles and curls atop their boots, and they carry black parasols. The man at the center smiles upon seeing us, revealing his fangs. Vampires.

Nick pulls an axe from his chest and gives it to me, then he pulls two off his body for himself, ready to fight. They see this and laugh. There are about seven, men and women, and as they laugh their fangs twinkle at me. This is crazy because I should be afraid, but I’m not. And I think it’s the boots. Fearlessness washes over me, as if the boots are letting me know they cannot hurt me.

“I can smell her blood from here. It’s so sweet. Oh, may I have her, please?” a redheaded female vampire asks the one in the middle who seems in charge.

They all sound British or something. No one else speaks like that around here.

“What’s with the phony accents?” I snark. “Is it part of the whole fancy act you’ve got going on?” I ask and the one in charge narrows his eyes at me.

“You are a bold one. Perhaps I will turn you instead of feeding on you. You’ve got nice tits too,” he says, staring at my soaked chest, and I realize you can see right through my shirt thanks to my dripping wet hair.

“Thanks. They’re not even done growing yet,” I say with a sassy shrug.

“Mmmm, I like you,” he leers as he eyes me.

“Oh? How amusing, because I don’t like you at all. Sorry, but you’re not my type,” I say and his eyes narrow.

“I’m everyone’s type,” he says with a winsome grin.

“I’m sure you think so,” I say and snort with an eye roll I can’t help.

“My dear, is this tin can your boyfriend? Is that why you’re being coy?” he asks, and all his vampire friends laugh at his pathetic joke.

“No, he thinks he’s my dad,” I say, and they titter. Nick looks at me wide-eyed, wondering what the hell I’m doing bantering with this guy, and perhaps a little for my remark about him.

“What’s your name, pretty?” the main vampire guy asks me.

“Dorothy. What’s yours?” I ask.

“I’m—”

“You know what? I don’t care,” I say, cutting him off.

“Oh? Don’t you want to know the name of the one who will keep you as his slave, for his own pleasure?” he asks, sure of himself as they move in on us, getting closer and closer.

“Yeah, that won’t be happening.”

“Oh, but won’t it?” he menaces.

“No, it won’t.”

“Yes, it will. And you will like it. I am looking forward to tasting you, and I don’t mean your blood,” he says with a lascivious grin. Gross.

“Ugh, please, you fool no one. Why don’t you go smoke a pole, knobgobbler? You know you want to.”

“What? Whatever does that mean?” one of the vampire girls says with a high-pitched laugh.

“Think about it, geniuses,” I say and their brows wrinkle in bewilderment. “I’ll give you a hint—consider that measly member of yours.”

After a pensive moment, the main vampire’s eyes light up in recognition, and he huffs out a laugh.

“Smoke a pole is fantastic. And knobgobbler, I like that. I’ll use that,” the main vampire guy says, and I laugh this time.

“You’d have to survive this encounter to do that,” I say, and they bellow laughter.

“Get ready,” Nick says under his breath.

Ready to fight, my boots jump into action covering me head to toe, silver spikes shooting from my feet, elbows, knees and hands. As their eyes widen, I attack the main guy first, swinging my axe at his throat then roundhouse kicking his head right off his neck. The redhead girl screams as I impale her with the spike in my fist, right through her heart. She falls over dead.

Nick swings his axe at the one coming after him and I take out the others, two at a time, my suit of silver moving me in ways I can only imagine. One grabs hold of me from behind and I turn and climb up his body before wrapping my legs around his chest. Long silver stakes shoot out of my inner thighs, impaling him through the heart. When he falls to the ground, I land with ease on my feet.

Nick has killed one by chopping off its head, but he is now fighting with another, exchanging blows. I charge over and kick at its neck, slicing its throat straight across with the blade at my toe. Then he spins and kicks its head right off its body, just like I did the first vampire. Cool move. With a surprised expression, the vampire’s head falls to the floor just before his body drops. Now they’re all dead, but I suppose they were before, or they were undead rather. Now they are all no longer undead, but dead for good, as Gayelette would say.

Nick steps back and holsters his axes. I hand him the axe he lent me, and he takes it, staring at me stunned as the silver armor shrinks back into the boots stuck onto my feet. I suppose it’s a good thing they are—they would have been off as I washed in the stream. There’s an upside to everything, I guess.

“Should we move them away from the stream, so they don’t contaminate the water?”

“When the sunlight hits them—” he begins as a cloud passes overhead and direct sunlight hits their bodies and burns them to ash on contact.

“That’s convenient.”

We gather the water bottles we filled and walk back, neither of us saying much, but then he speaks.

“It’s a good thing those boots don’t come off,” he says.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I say with a laugh. “And it’s strange, but I think they make me more confident, and perhaps more callous. I feel no guilt for that, which surprises me. When I first arrived, Gayelette’s lack of concern for the dead Vampire Witch appalled me, and I had a hard time knowing I had killed her, even if she was a vampire, but now, for some odd reason, I feel nothing at all other than satisfied to have killed them all so fast.”

“What did you mean when you said I think I’m your dad?” he asks me, confused by my remark.

“Uh, you said I was like your daughter when you were helping me get the leaves out of my hair,” I say, and he looks confused.

“I only meant…” he sighs.

“For your information, I’m not that much younger than you, but I guess I don’t have as much life experience. I’m still in school, I haven’t been engaged, or been in love, haven’t set out to murder anyone before just now, so I guess I get it,” I say and shrug.

“I didn’t mean I think you are like my daughter. I only meant I would know what to do if I had to wash a girl’s hair…” he says and sighs. “Although I see how it may have sounded that way and I hope I didn’t offend.”

“I think I’ll live.”

“Good.”

With that, we head back to the cabin in silence.

6

A Civilized Education for the Axeman

When we returned to the cabin, Ardie and Toto had caught a wild turkey. After taking its head for the brains, Ardie handed the turkey over to Nick and me to prepare for roasting. While I defeathered the bird, Nick chopped firewood and picked apples from an apple tree nearby. When he returned, he gutted the bird, and I cut a few apples to stuff the carcass with. Then we put the giblets into Toto’s dish to make gravy. Once we built the fire, we skewered the turkey for roasting, and now every half hour, we flip the bird over.

Ardie was kind enough to lend me his jacket to cover my wet blouse. He was sure Nick was ogling me, but Nick did not look my way once. When I told Ardie what Nick said by the stream, explaining that Nick also saw me as a child, he relaxed but only a little. Even though the protectiveness Ardie displays is thoughtful, it’s also irritating. Before discovering the abilities these boots endow me with, I may have needed a protector, but the boots give me a strength, agility, and confidence I never had before. Sharp tongued and assured, I had no fear when confronted with vampires, and I spoke to them in a way I have never spoken to anyone in my life. After my reaction to killing the Vampire Witch of the East, it surprises me how unfazed I was when I killed those vampires, but the longer I wear the boots, the more they seem to assure me of my strength, a strength I am not sure was in me before coming to this monstrous land.

“Sorry, I cannot stand it any longer,” says Ardie cowering, inching away from the fire. “I must go inside.”

When he stands, Toto rises to go too. Looks like Toto has a new best friend.

“Why are you afraid of fire?” I ask.

“It came with the zombiism.”

“Strange,” Nick says.

“Perhaps it is because fire is the only thing that can kill me,” Ardie says as they head toward the cabin.

When Ardie goes inside with Toto and closes the door, Nick turns and looks at me as though he wants to say something but is hesitant.

“What?” I ask, wondering what his apprehension is about.

“Are you in a terrible hurry to get home?”

“Well, I’d like to let my family know I’m alive as soon as possible.”

“Your mother and father?”

“No, my aunt and uncle. My parents are dead,” I say, heavyhearted.

“Oh, I am sorry. How did they die?”

“A car accident.”

“Car?”

“A car is a vehicle. A machine with wheels that takes people from one place to another much faster than going on foot. Another person in another larger vehicle fell asleep while operating it and plowed into them on a highway—a road just for those kinds of vehicles to travel at high speeds. He died too, the one who killed them. They don’t know for sure he was asleep, but they assumed so because he had been driving a long time without rest. That man left behind a family too—a wife and two children.”

“Tragic.”

“Yeah, it was. Happened four years ago. It devastated me when it happened, but I’m okay now. There was a time I couldn’t tell anyone that without crying.”

“Do you live with your aunt and uncle now?”

“Yeah, in the grayest place in existence. Everything there is gray, including them. If I stay there for much longer, I’ll grow as gray as everything and everyone else there.”

“Why do you want to return?”

“Because I want them to know I’m alive, but also, it’s scary here, with all the night creatures, as you call them.”

“You did not seem afraid in the slightest, the way you spoke to those vampires,” he says as though he’s in awe of how I behaved.

“It’s the boots. They give me a strength I’ve never had before. I’ve never in my life spoken to anyone like that,” I admit with a laugh.

“I never would have guessed.”

“Is that what you seemed so hesitant to ask me?”

“No, what was that phrase you used? For…” he asks but then stops, diffident and shy and I can’t contain my laughter, knowing what he’s wondering about.

“Do you mean, ‘smoke a pole’?”

“Yes. Why smoke?”

“If you smoke a cigar or a cigarette, you suck on it and… yeah.”

“Before, when you held me down, you said words I did not understand. What were they?”

“Eek, okay well…”

Although I’m hesitant, and embarrassed, I explain what I said when I swore at him and he grows fascinated, asking me to tell him all the swear words I know. So, I tell him all about them, what they mean, the sexist nature of many of them, and as I describe it all I’m surprised to notice how they are all related to sex acts, sex organs, and functions most reserve for the bathroom. “There are hand gestures too.”

“Show me,” he says, eager, with wide eyes and a big grin.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am, and I will use them all,” he says and I huff out a laugh at him.

“Wow, all right, so…” I say and show all the vulgar gestures I know to him. When he copies me, I laugh with each gesture. “You got them all.”

“Any others?”

“Those are all the ones I know…” I say and think about it. Oh wait, there is one more. “There’s this one too,” I say and take my index and middle finger in the shape of a V and bring it to my mouth to lick between them, flicking my tongue.

“Whatever does that mean?”

“If you think about it I bet you can figure it out,” I say and smirk, and he looks so confused. “Oh, come on.”

“I am not sure what it could be,” he says fascinated.

“Think harder,” I raised a brow at him, and he thinks it over. When it hits home, his eyes grow wide.

“Oh my,” he says shocked, and I laugh. “So, this means…” he says imitating my last gesture, and I nod in assent. “Oh,” he says, uncomfortable now. Guess that took it too far.

“Sorry, you asked,” I say and shrug.

“Almost all of those words and gestures relate to coitus. Does everyone in the Civilized Realm engage in sexual activities before marriage?”

“Not everyone, but a lot. Not me, if that’s what you’re asking. Even though I’m no virgin, I’ve only had one boyfriend. There’s not much else to do in Kansas. He graduated though. He’s in college now. We broke up last year before he left for school,” I tell him, and he looks shocked.

“I am a virgin. In this realm, you do not do that until you marry.”

“Wow. That’s extreme. Some people are like that in my realm, I guess, but it’s not so common anymore.”

“It’s not?” he asks, shocked.

“Nope, I don’t think so,” I laugh. Pensive and maybe a little disturbed, his downcast, wide eyes shift with thoughts before he looks up at me as though he’s had an epiphany.

“Perhaps I’ll return to your realm with you,” he says, and I guffaw. This time, he cracks a smile and laughs with me.

“That’s awesome.”

“Awesome?” he asks, surprised I’d use that word to describe his obvious horniness.

“It’s an expression. Not only does it mean awe inspiring, but it also means ‘that’s wonderful.’”

“There may be people who do that without commitment, like the vampire who propositioned you…” he says and stops, remembering, looking angered at the thought.

“He was just trying to scare me.”

“Yes, he was, but it didn’t scare you.”

“Blame the boots,” I shrug.

“In the Civilized Realm, fornication is common?”

“Although it used to be like it is here, people loosened up a lot about that stuff over the last century. Fewer hang-ups, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Well, I guess I’d like to know I’ll enjoy it with the person I sleep with for the rest of my life. Why do people wait for marriage here?”

“It is the way of our society, and I never questioned why. Although I am now,” he says, and I laugh again. He smiles and blushes.

“Changing your thoughts on it?”

“Very much so,” he admits.

“Sorry I corrupted you.”

“I did not realize it was a possibility, I suppose,” he admits, and I giggle.

“People are doing it before then, I’m sure. When they kiss, I’m sure it leads to other things.”

“Kiss?”

“Uh, yeah, people must kiss here.”

“I do not know the word.”

“Lips touching,” I explain.

“Like a closed mouth?”

“No, one person’s lips touching another person’s lips,” I clarify, and he shakes his head, unsure. “No way, people must kiss here.”

“I do not believe we do. What is it? Is it another form of intercourse?”

“No, it’s far more innocent than that. People kiss each other on the cheeks as a greeting in my realm. A kiss on the lips is more intimate, but kids play kissing games—it’s not like sex,” I say. “But it can lead to it if you keep doing it though. It can be pretty great,” I say and giggle.

“This is something with which I am unfamiliar.”

“I bet our name for it is just different. Like this is blowing a kiss,” I say and kiss my hand and blow it at him and he looks at me like I’m insane.

“Never once have I seen this,” he admits.

“That’s tragic. You should try it sometime.”

“But I am not sure what it is I would try.”

“Just touch your lips to someone else’s lips. Someone you like.”

“I like you. Would you show me?”

“What?” I ask, now shy, my cheeks getting hot as they blush.

“You say it is innocent and used as a greeting?”

“On the cheek though. I can show you that.”

“I would like that, for I am very curious.”

“No harm in a kiss on the cheek,” I say and get up, move toward the log he is sitting on, sit beside him, and kiss his cheek.

“That was pleasant. People in your realm greet each other this way?”

“Yes.”

“But not lips to lips?”

“People greet each other that way too, but it’s more intimate.”

“Oh,” he says, bemused. “And asking you to show me this is improper?”

“I mean… I guess it’s not so terrible.”

“So, would you? Show me, that is?”

Anxiety rushes through me. Yeah, he’s gorgeous, and I’d make-out with him, but he does not get what he’s asking for.

“Understand that it’s different from a cheek kiss, and can lead to other more intimate things.”

“I promise I will not try to engage in intercourse with you,” he avers, and I laugh at how serious he was when he said that. This guy is so proper.

“What the hell,” I shrug. “All right, get ready, and follow my lead,” I say, and he nods, bracing himself.

When I look into his eyes, he looks back at me and he’s so good-looking it makes me nervous, but then I feel lucky to be the only girl he’s ever kissed or ever will considering they don’t do this here. How sad. Poor guy—he’s nineteen and never kissed a girl. There’s no need for guilt when I’m doing him a favor.

Okay, I just need to do it. Dive in.

When I take his face in my hands, my touch surprises him but he goes with it, pressing his cheek into my palm. Then I lean in and kiss him, but his lips are so tight I pull away.

“Relax,” I say, and he exhales, loosening a little. “Let’s try again, just relax and follow my lead,” I say, and he nods.

This time, when I hold his face in my hands and kiss his lips, they are much softer.

As I press my lips to his, he kisses me back, and he’s not bad at all. Good feelings flutter in my chest. Wow, he’s fantastic at this. As his arms wrap around me, I pull him to me, holding him close as our lips entwine. I slip my tongue into his mouth and he jumps, but he goes with it and caresses my tongue with his. I move my hand on his cheek into his spun gold hair, and our kiss gets deeper. Soon we are full on making out, and it’s great.

The last time I kissed a boy like this was over a year ago, and it was Billy. Billy never made me feel like this, with butterflies and sparks flying everywhere, craving so much more. Even though I want him to touch me, he won’t. But I want him to.

When his hands move to my waist and he holds me, kissing me with fervor, getting as into it as I am, I take his hand and move it to my breast because I can’t help myself. As he squeezes, I kiss him deeper, desperate for this gorgeous guy who makes me feel more than I ever have while kissing.

Is this what it’s supposed to be like? Or is this just because he’s super hot? Would any girl he kissed feel like this? Or is it more? Could it be? I would stay for a while just to do this a little longer. What am I thinking? Just stop, Dorothy.

Beneath his armor, his chest heaves, and the intensity between us grows. If he wasn’t covered in metal, I might do something I regret. But there is something I can do, I want to do, to give him the full experience, so I pull away and kiss his neck. A gasp escapes him as he massages my breast in his hand like an expert. Then I kiss his earlobe, nibbling on it, and he pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me again, hugging me to his metal clad body.

I whisper into his ear, “That’s kissing.”

When I pull away and look at him, he looks intoxicated, with his eyes closed. After a moment, he opens them and looks at me, his lids hooded, his eyes darkening, and it sends an electric shock of deliciousness straight to my core.

“That is the best thing I ever did in my entire life,” he says, his voice low, almost purring, and I can’t help but laugh.

A lazy grin takes over his perfect lips, before he kisses me again. And I kiss him right back. When he pulls away, he keeps me close, nuzzling my nose with his, and he says, while grasping my breast in his hand, “I can see how it leads to other more intimate things.”

He kisses me again, getting bolder, and I let him.

“I like how you did that to my neck and my ear. I want to do that to you,” he whispers into my lips before he kisses my neck, and it’s toe curling. When he nibbles my ear, running his fingers through my damp hair, it sends tingles through my entire body.

“When you don’t have armor all over you, it’s even better,” I say, and he pulls away and takes off his chest plate, covered in axes I’m lucky didn’t cut me, pulling it off over his head. He pulls me back toward him and holds me to him, kissing me and wow, his body against mine feels amazing. Kissing Billy was never as good as this. Nothing with Billy was as good as this.

“Mmmm,” he growls into my lips as he kisses me, his tongue exploring my mouth, our chests pressed together, and I throw my leg over his lap and straddle him, pressing my hips into his. He’s surprised but doesn’t stop me.

What’s the harm when he’s covered in metal from the waist down?

When his hands move from my breasts to my hips, I take them and move them to my butt, evoking a sigh he breathes into my mouth.

“I…” he says and stops, breathless.

“Are you all right?” He seems distraught, his brows knit over his imploring puppy dog eyes.

“I promised I would not try to…” he says and stops with a sigh, trying to collect himself, and I giggle.

“Have sex with me?” I finish for him.

“Yes,” he admits, embarrassed, averting his eyes, and I chuckle.

“Next time,” I say with a laugh and get off him. His eyes widen and I laugh harder. “It was a joke,” I clarify.

“Dorothy?” he says as I sit beside him instead of on top of him.

“Yes, Nick?”

“Will you marry me?” he asks, and I bellow a laugh.

“Oh, Nick, you are sweet, but we just met.”

“But I… All I want to do is kiss you, forever,” he swoons, and that was adorable and lovely of him to say, but that’s not it at all.

“No, you are nineteen and horny and you think you need to marry a girl to sleep with her,” I giggle. He smiles in admission.

“In Oz, you do,” he says.

“Well, where I come from, you don’t.”

“It sounds like a wonderful place,” he says, and I laugh at him.

“Let me kiss you again.”

“Time to turn the turkey.”

“After we turn the turkey, let me kiss you again,” he says, and I chuckle at him.

“I’ve created a monster,” I say, and a look of horror takes over his gorgeous face. “That’s an expression in my world that just means I got you started and now you don’t want to stop. Don’t worry, it’s not bad. I enjoy kissing you,” I tell him, and he smiles.

“Have sex with me, Dorothy.”

“Maybe someday,” I say with a teasing nudge to his shoulder.

“But you would not marry me?”

“I mean… I don’t know you,” I say with a shy eye roll.

The weirdest thing about him asking me isn’t so much that he asked it, but that part of me wants to say yes even though I could never do that. The first reason being that our chemistry is off the charts, and the second being that no guy as hot as him would ever try to hook up with me much as well propose marriage in my realm. In the real world, or the Civilized Realm, he’s so far out of my league there’s a small part of me that wants to jump at the opportunity to be with a guy who looks like him. Billy was good-looking, so cute, but this guy is like one of those guys who gets paid six figures to take a picture for a magazine, with all those chiseled muscles and a perfect face to boot. Guys like him date Victoria’s Secret models and pop stars, not regular girls like me. I may not know Chris Hemsworth or Henry Cavill but if any of them proposed after knowing me for an hour I’d want to say yes even though it would be insane. When a guy this gorgeous proposes, most girls would want to jump at the chance, wouldn’t they? But I also realize it’s crazy, and at my age, I could never entertain the idea of getting engaged to a guy I just met from another world altogether.

“But you would sleep with me?”

Yes. Yes, I so would, but I can’t just say yes to that. So I laugh instead.

“Wow, you’re getting bolder,” I say, my brow raised in knowing amusement, and his eyes darken.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he’s so not sorry.

“Liar,” I say and smirk, and he laughs, his eyes glinting.

If he is proposing marriage after a kiss, if I slept with him, it might hurt him when I go, and I have to go. How can I stay in this terrifying place? Hot guy or not, that’d be a stupid move. Oh, but I so wish I could.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to mess you up or anything.”

“Mess me up?”

“I’m leaving. Or I hope so at least. And these boots are stuck on my feet anyway, so I can’t take my pants off, even if I wanted to. Let’s take it as a sign.”

“We could work around it.”

“Let’s see how it goes,” I say and laugh at how eager he is.

“You are beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that because I taught you how to kiss and you want to sleep with me. An hour ago, you looked at me as if I were a child.”

“No, I misspoke. When I first saw your face, I thought you were the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.”

“Yeah?”

Swoon.

“You make my heart pound fast. Even when you are not kissing me. Even if you would engage in intercourse with me without marriage, I would want to marry you.”

“It’s that simple, huh? Women in my realm would all show up here if they thought it was that easy to get a guy to propose.”

“Perhaps they should.”

“You say you are heartless, but you don’t act like it, proposing to a girl you only met two hours ago,” I say, and he sighs.

“I am a heartless killer. And I have not felt this way in… I suppose never. It is you who has brought it out in me. But when you leave to return to Kansas, I will be heartless again. Unless I’m in the Emerald City. Then I could live a life without killing, a life where I can find love, get married, have a family, the life I want, where having a heart is not a detriment.”

“Yeah, I get it. But you don’t seem heartless.”

“Until today, I was. You give me hope, Dorothy.”

This guy is far from heartless. He’s a romantic if I ever saw one. Even though he may be a badass slayer of the bitten, he’s all heart. How sad he doesn’t see it. He needs a long break from murder and death, and the Emerald City will give him that. At least I hope it will.

“Dorothy?” Ardie says, peeking out of the door, afraid of the blazing fire.

“Yeah, Ardie?” I ask and he waves me over. When I get up and go to the door of the cabin, he pulls me inside with an urgency, closing the door behind me.

“The fire won’t fly over here and burn you up, Ardie. Relax,” I say and giggle.

“Did I see what I think I saw?” Ardie asks, eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know. What do you think you saw?” I ask, unsure of what he could mean.

“You and Nick?” he asks as if it’s obvious.

“Oh, I was just showing him what kissing was. It’s something people in my realm—”

“I know what it is,” he scoffs.

“What?” I ask confused.

“I know what kissing is. I’m no idiot. Although I’m not sure what you mean by showing him what kissing is. You should know, he wants more from you than just kissing. I can see the way he eyes you. It bothers me. Know, Dorothy, he’s dangerous.”

“Wait… You guys kiss here?”

“Of course we do. Did he tell you we didn’t?”

“He told me people here didn’t kiss, didn’t engage in sexual intercourse before marriage—” I say, and he laughs.

“Well, he lied. Although I suppose some do not, but I doubt he is one of those people. Ridiculous,” he says shaking his head.

Anger and shame and complete and utter embarrassment grip me like a vise. I so just got played by this guy. Ugh, I guess he is heartless.

I want to sleep with you? I’m a virgin? Will you marry me? I’m an idiot.

On the heels of my new silver boots, I turn and charge back out the door over to Nick and smack him hard on his unarmored head.

“You don’t kiss here, huh?” I shout at him and he laughs. “You’re a sick asshole,” I say, enraged at myself for falling for it.

“You liked it,” he says, snickering to himself.

“Why the act?”

“It was easy. Right there for the taking,” he says and shrugs.

“Wow, you are heartless.”

“Take people at their word. Did I not tell you I was? Perhaps you should have listened.”

“Gross,” I say, and I can’t help but laugh at this guy. “So, your marriage proposal was a lie?” I say and he laughs. “And I’m sure you’re far from a virgin.”

“Far from it? Perhaps. Although that is not the phrasing I would choose. But what does it matter? You can’t take off your pants,” he says with a cocky smirk.

“You’re a jerk.”

“I don’t recall that being on your list of bathroom words.”

“You’re a dick,” I clarify, and he laughs.

“Once I was a nice, romantic sort. Not anymore. Sorry.”

“Sleaze,” I grumble.

“Relax, it was just kissing. Like you said, it is innocent. Children play kissing games. It is not the end of the realm,” he says shaking his head. “It is not as if you are so innocent. You were happy to take advantage of me. I saw the way you were looking at me by the stream. What was on that dirty mind of yours, Dorothy? Please. I recognized those looks,” he says, and I’m mortified. Because he’s right. I was ogling him, and I enjoyed kissing him. Too much.

“Kind of like how you were staring at my breasts?” I say, calling him out right back.

“Yes, like that,” he says with glinting eyes and the smallest of smiles on his full lips.

“You need to get to the City of Emeralds and get that heart. It’s as cold as ice in that hollow chest cavity of yours.”

“Don’t I know it,” he agrees.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Perhaps a little stupid.”

“Screw you,” I say, so irritated, and he laughs at me, making it worse.

When I narrow my eyes at him, he throws me a winsome grin and I despise how cute he is. Of course they kiss here. I’m so freaking stupid.

“You could have just tried to kiss me if you wanted to kiss me.”

“You might have refused me,” he says and shrugs as if his actions are logical and warranted for that one ridiculous reason.

“I would have,” I insist, but I wouldn’t have. He’s super hot. And when you’re that hot, you’re almost always a total dick, no matter what realm your from. Case in point, this guy.

“And like I said, it was right there for the taking,” he shrugs.

“So heartless.”

“As I told you I was.”

“Yeah, you did. Not sure that’s curable.”

“If you lived a life like mine, knowing you could die at any moment, you would just sleep with me and have no need for courting. But you are from the Civilized Realm where life is not this way, so…” he says allowing a wave of his hand to finish his sentence for him.

“Well, I’m not dying. I’m going back to Kansas,” I say, determined.

“You hope,” he corrects.

“I have these boots. They seem to help me out in the not dying department,” I remind him.

“That’s lucky for you. I do not have boots and I could die soon. So, I take a kiss from a beautiful girl when I can get it. If I can get more, well, I take that too.”

“Wow, all right. Fair enough,” I say shaking my head.

“You would have kept kissing me if it hadn’t been for that zombie friend of yours. You may even have made love to me despite your pants not coming off.”

“No, I’d have traumatized you, or I thought I would,” I say, and he laughs.

“Traumatized me? Intriguing,” he says and grins as his eyes smolder, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Forget it, heartless prick.”

“That’s me.”

As he smiles at me all sexy like, I hate I find him to be charming even though he played me hard. But it’s not like I got nothing from it. It was fun, but I’m done with being an idiot.

“If you had just been patient, worked a little harder for it, you might have gotten far more than one make-out session,” I say just to torture him, and he laughs surprised.

“Do not forget I could die at any moment.”

“Yeah, you could,” I threaten, my eyes narrowed, but he only laughs.

“Do not be angry. Be flattered.”

“Flattered?”

“Yes. I find you to be exquisite looking, and I wanted to kiss you. When I saw an opening, I took it. Many females would love the opportunity to kiss me.”

“Should I be flattered or honored?”

“Both,” he says beaming a cocky grin.

“Perhaps you are the one who should be honored.”

“Oh, I am, very much so, for I quite enjoyed kissing you, and I would have continued to do so had it not been for your zombie friend.”

“Too bad for you.”

“Yes, it is too bad. When I said I want to keep kissing you, I meant it,” he says with smoldering eyes.

“Forever?”

“Forever could well be only a few hours.”

“Well, I hope you’re wrong about that.”

“As do I,” he says, his flirtatious eyes hardening.

It’s clear he’s daunted by death being just around the corner at any moment here, but I’m still pissed—it’s just not a good excuse to treat someone that way.

“So, if you go the City of Emeralds you will turn into a nice person?”

“I am a nice person. Wasn’t it nice to kiss me?” he challenges, and I say nothing. “Yes, well, I am nice enough. Although I would like to be able to plan farther ahead than the very next moment. May I remind you, I could die at any second. If I had a future, I could think about things in a more positive way. Find a girl, settle down, or find girl after girl and not worry about death. But I would like to get married, be a husband and a father with a real life. The story I told you was true, about the Munchkin girl. After that… things were different.”

“You used me to get your rocks off.”

“Get my rocks off? Is that more of your bathroom talk?”

“Yeah,” I say, and he thinks on it.

“Rocks… I get it. How amusing. I like your bathroom talk. And I suppose I did, but it wasn’t only for me. You find me attractive. But you are innocent. Not as innocent as I thought, but you are, and you would be shy. To make you think I was even more innocent than you was easier. Perhaps I upset you even more because you believe the reason I lied is that I care nothing for you, but I like you very much, and I would be happy to keep kissing you if you would let me.”

“Thanks anyway, but I would rather you not use me for your pleasure. Looks like that vampire gave you ideas.”

“He would have made you his slave. I made you believe I was ignorant of something as innocent as a kiss and asked you to educate me. You could have said no,” he reminds me.

“I should have,” I humph.

“No, it was nice. More than nice, and it is disappointing it is over for I would have liked to spend the night with you.”

“Too bad for you.”

“As it is for you. You would enjoy it very much.”

“Oh, I’m sure you think so.”

“I do… We still could,” he smolders.

“Yeah right, you wish.”

“Oh, I wish. The way you feel, you are intoxicating, Dorothy. I do very much want to kiss you again, and not just on your lips.”

“Good one. Hilarious,” I say and chortle.

“We shall see how it goes.”

“We shall.”

I cross my arms and turn away from him, and he chuckles, amused and satisfied with himself.

“The turkey should be ready by now,” he says, his eyes glinting with prurient thoughts.

Despite his attempt to lighten things, I stick my nose in the air and avoid eye contact with him, hurt and pride swelling in my chest, taking the place of the affection that was growing for him only moments ago.

“Fine, I’ll get soil to put out the fire,” I say, and he rises.

“I will help you,” he says and stands.

“Don’t bother yourself,” I huff as I pass him, walking to the shovel leaning up against his cabin.

He catches my arm and pulls me to him.

“Please stop being upset with me,” he says as he wraps his arms around me, and I hate it feels so damn nice.

“Back off,” I snap.

The sorrow of being ripped from my world and brought here was enough. This kind of maltreatment is also a very new experience for me, and it not only mortifies me, but it hurts my feelings. All the boys I’ve ever kissed have liked me, and this one tricked me into making a fool of myself, so I wriggle out of his embrace and go grab the shovel, angry at the both of us. Me for being a callow, moonstruck moron, and him for being a philanderer.

“Why are you upset?”

“Are you joking?” I burst, and his eyes widen as though he’s surprised he’s hurt me and regrets it, and I do not buy his act this time. “Like you care.”

“I care because I will travel with you and I do not want it to be uncomfortable.”

“At least you’re honest now,” I say and chortle.

“Had it not been for the zombie, you would have never known.”

“Is that better? No, it’s not. Thank goodness he’s here to protect me,” I say, grateful I met Ardie.

“Despite your magical boots, we could both die at any moment, and I wanted to kiss you, to hold you, be close to you, and I am sorry I misled you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. To continue to kiss you and hold you would have been very nice. Your beauty is striking, resplendent. And your kiss is intoxicating. I would have liked to make love to you, to have this trip be far more pleasurable than it will be without a more intimate companionship. And I would have liked for you to be my friend. Let us get past this and be friends. Please forgive my selfish lie.”

“You proposed,” I remind him, and he laughs.

“If we live through our journey, you are leaving. I knew you would think it was crazy and would say no.”

“What if I had said yes?”

“Then I would have thought you were crazy.”

“What you did is mean,” I say, and he seems surprised by my choice of words, but it was mean. “Not that you care, but you’ve hurt my feelings.”

“Why?” he asks, seeming genuine.

“Because…” I think it over and I don’t like he tricked me. “Because you tricked me and…” I think about it more and I know deep down it’s because he lied, and he doesn’t like me for real.

“You pretended to like me, and you toyed with me, took advantage of my innocence of this crazy realm of yours, and because you’re heartless, it means nothing to you, so I feel stupid too.”

“No, you are not,” he says and sighs as though I irritate him.

“Whatever, I am an idiot to have believed… Forget it.” The fire is out. “The bird should rest for a few minutes,” I say and go to the cabin door to tell Ardie it’s safe to come out. Before I even knock on the door, Ardie comes out with Toto at his feet.

As always, Toto can tell when I’m sad or hurt, and he rushes over jumping up on me. When I kneel, he licks my cheek. Now there’s a kiss that’s genuine.

“You are quite the dishonorable one,” Ardie says to Nick with a raised brow of disapproval.

“Yes, I know,” Nick says as he watches me with Toto, but I ignore him and give my attention to my best friend. As I hug Toto and he snuggles me, the hurt and even some embarrassment releases its grip on my chest, and I feel so much better. When I free him from our cuddle, he jumps around, excited, smelling the roast turkey and it makes me smile.

“It’s too hot right now. Soon,” I tell him, and he licks my cheek. As I scratch behind his ears, his black eyes close in bliss before he licks my chin.

To distract him from the turkey, and me from my hurt feelings, I play fetch with Toto, throwing a stick I find on the ground until the turkey has cooled enough to eat. When it’s ready, I take a knife from my bag of weapons and carve pieces of the breast for Toto and myself while Nick uses his axe to chop off a leg. I pour the gravy we made over mine and Nick dips his leg into it. Once they’ve cooled, I take out the large pieces from the gravy and feed it to Toto who is in heaven. Toto eats every bite I give him before I notice the sun will set soon.

“The sun is setting. We should stay here until tomorrow and leave at sunrise,” Nick says. Throughout our meal he has said nothing until now, and neither have we.

“That is wise,” Ardie agrees. “Now is a good time to go hunt for my dinner.”

Toto jumps up to accompany Ardie, leaving me alone with Nick.

“Please forgive me, Dorothy.”

“For what?”

“For taking advantage of your ignorance of my world.”

“Sure, thanks,” I say with no need to continue to discuss this any further.

“I like you, as much as I can like anyone.”

“Whatever that means.”

“It means I am heartless.”

“You only care because it means you are not honorable, right?”

“That doesn’t help,” he admits.

“What do you want me to say?”

If forgiveness is what he’s looking for, I am not going to humor him. I don’t forgive him for it. It’s not as though he cares. Maybe I’ll get over it soon but right now I’m still hurt. If he’d give me a chance to move past it, it’d be easier, but right now I still feel so stupid for hooking up with a philandering liar.

When I was younger, I had kissed boys once or twice, but Billy was the only guy I had been with in the past four years, the only guy I’d kissed since high school began, until today. To know it was false and hollow makes me feel like I have a fist clutching my heart, pumping out reproach and remorse and resentment in successive, rhythmic, augmenting bursts.

“I…” he stops and sighs. “I like you very much and I am sorry I hurt your feelings, and I am sorry I made you sad.”

“Before today, no guy had ever taken advantage of me. But I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” I say, and he sighs.

“You are beautiful, and I wanted to kiss you, but you would have refused me, so I tricked you into kissing me. And I am ashamed.”

“I just wish you hadn’t lied. I might have let you, but you’ll never know now,” I admit.

“Sorry. If you would like me to sleep outside, I will understand.”

“There’s no need for that. We can all stay in the cabin. It is yours.”

“Thank you, and I am sorry.”

“You said that already. I know.”

“Not only because I cannot sleep with you in my arms tonight, but because I hurt you.”

“Well, I’m guessing for you, that’s new.”

“It is,” he admits.

“Maybe you’re improving.”

“I have not had genuine feelings for any girl since Nimmie. Because of that, I did not expect to care for you, but I do.”

“No, it’s just guilt. None of your other conquests were around you long enough to find out what a liar you are.”

“Perhaps not.”

“And like you said, it was just a kiss, innocent. It was nothing. It meant nothing.”

Even though it didn’t feel like nothing to me, he doesn't need to know that. It was nothing more than some pleasure for a moment to him.

He says nothing. What more is there to say?

As the sun goes down, it gets cold. A distinct chill fills the air.

“We should break down the bird to carry with us tomorrow,” I say.

I cut it up into parts, using the empty containers in my bag to keep as much as possible—the other leg, the wings, a whole breast and a half of the other. This should last us a while. It’s too bad the carcass will go to waste. I could have made a soup out of the bones, but we can’t carry it and we don’t have a stock pot to make it in.

With just enough room in the containers to keep it all, I get most of the meat off the bones, pour on the left-over gravy to keep the meat from drying out, and close up the containers. When I go to pack them away in my bag in the cabin, Nick follows me inside.

“Sorry I do not have a blanket to keep you warm. It looks like it will be a cold night,” he says.

“I should have brought one.” I sigh with regret.

Ardie enters the cabin with Toto.

“The sun is down. You should retire so we may start early,” Ardie says. “I will keep watch outside so I do not have to be so silent tonight.”

I get nervous but then I remember I have the boots if I want to kick Nick’s butt, and Toto will be here, sleeping with me.

“Then you may light a fire in the hearth. It will be a cold night. If anyone or anything comes by, I will come in and wake you,” Ardie tells us. “And I’m sure Nick will be far more honorable than he was this afternoon,” Ardie adds, raising an eyebrow.

“As am I,” I say, and Ardie nods, stepping back outside for the evening.

Nick takes a few logs, puts them into the tiny hearth, and starts a fire. It gives a little warmth, but not much. Toto curls up right in front.

“Please, take the bed of leaves, for it is far more comfortable than the hard floor alone,” he tells me.

“Thank you,” I say and lie down on the bed of leaves in the corner. He takes off his armor and underneath he wears black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. He pulls off the shirt and hands it over to me.

“Put this on. It is much warmer than the half shirt you wear,” he says, and I realize my shirt that ties at my waist must shock him. Everyone dresses in clothes that look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds here.

“But you’ll freeze,” I say.

“No, you will. I’ll sleep here, closer to the fire,” he says and lies down next to Toto on the floor.

“No, I can’t take this from you.”

“You will,” he insists.

“Why are you being so kind and selfless?” I ask him, very wary of his motives.

“Just take it. Although I may be heartless, I can be a gentleman,” he commands.

“Thank you,” I acquiesce, and put his shirt on over my own.

I lie down on his bed of leaves, in his shirt, and now I feel bad for being hard on him. He is trying.

“I appreciate it,” I say. “And what you did was a dirty trick, but you’re right, I could have said no.”

“Don’t—”

“No, I thought I was taking advantage of you. I can admit that. But I figured you asked for it so… I guess I shouldn’t be so upset. Maybe we can start fresh.”

“Please know I am sorry.”

“I appreciate you saying so, and giving me your bed, and the shirt off your back on such a cold night. I wish…” I say and stop.

What I wish is that it hadn’t happened. But I wish it because he’s so gorgeous and he looks so good with no shirt on. He could see I find him attractive and he took advantage. I guess I was obvious. And I’m embarrassed, because he told me he was heartless, and I saw what I wanted to see. The truth, if I’m being honest with myself, is that I wish he liked me. But he’s from a different world where life is fleeting, and I do not understand what that is like. I have no clue what it’s like to live your life as though each moment may be your last, and I understand why he wants to go to the City of Emeralds so that can change. I can appreciate that. And I’m leaving. It’s not like either of us could or should get involved. Not that he would want to. Looking the way he does, he could have any girl he wanted, and does. It was stupid of me to think otherwise.

“What do you wish?” he asks me.

“Nothing,” I say and roll over, my back to the room. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

* * *

I wake up to him shaking me and find I’m shivering. It’s freezing cold.

“You are trembling from the cold. Move over by the fire,” he says.

“A-a-a-a-a-l-l-l-right-t-t-t,” I say, shuddering, so cold.

I get up and move to where Toto is. I wrap myself around him and he snuggles into me.

“Please do not take offense, but it is for your own good,” Nick says and wraps his shirtless body around mine, spooning me, and I am much warmer, but he must be freezing.

“You m-m-m-must be s-s-s-s-o-o-o c-c-c-c-cold,” I say shivering.

“I have been by the fire, I am fine,” he says and snuggles into me.

I should be mad or wary of him, but I’m freezing and I’m sure he is too, even if he won’t admit it.

“Don’t g-g-get a-a-n-n-y fun-n-n-ny id-d-d-deas.”

“Do not worry, Dorothy. I have learned my lesson,” he murmurs in my ear. “Go back to sleep,” he says as he nuzzles his face into the back of my neck.

Because I’m so much warmer than I was, when I hear him smell my hair, I let it go. As I drift back to sleep far more comfortable than before, I wish I could make-out with him, knowing I’d be a lot warmer a lot quicker if I did, but I can’t. My pride won’t dare let me. And that’s a good thing, because this heartless Adonis wrapped around me will only hurt me.

7

The Company of Zombies

A fragment of light falls through the cloudy glass of the egress window, and I wake to find myself wrapped in him. Somehow, Toto has gotten outside. I assume he is hunting with Ardie. Nick is fast asleep, so I allow myself a moment to enjoy being snuggled into his strong arms, and I bask in the feel of his hard chest and rippling abdomen pressed against my back. Low burning embers glimmer in the hearth where a blazing fire burned hours ago, and as I run my fingertips over the cold skin on his forearms, guilt pangs in my chest for taking his shirt. As I try to wriggle away to take it off and drape over him, he holds me tighter. A few still moments pass before I try to take my arms out of the sleeves again, but he hugs me to him, refusing to let me go.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes still closed.

“You’re freezing, so I was trying to give you your shirt back.”

“Stop. The sun has not risen yet and you need your rest. It’s a long journey,” he says, and I let out a sigh, feeling terrible. “Dorothy, I am fine. Your warm body is keeping me warm.”

“Nick, please let me give it back.”

“No,” he insists, so I turn around to face him.

“Fine, then at least let me do this,” I say and put my arms around him instead, embracing him. He pulls me in tight, and it’s nice. It makes me wish he wasn’t a jerk.

The smells of the forest fill my senses as my face nuzzles into his neck, and I take a deep breath, savoring the scent of him. Half asleep, he caresses my hair in unconscious, light strokes, and his heart pounds, racing in his chest, proving he has one after all.

Rough, calloused fingertips graze my spine before finding the small of my back. Chest to chest he presses me to him in a sad embrace, and I reciprocate his hug, but I don’t know why after yesterday. Maybe because it seems like he needs it. It must be so hard with no family at all, living here alone, spending all his time fighting vampires and night creatures, always afraid for his life. He’s only nineteen, and he has already had to kill his own dad and girlfriend. The thought of what he’s been through saddens me, and I grieve for him. With a heart so broken, he believes he doesn’t even have one anymore. What it must be like for him.

Pity pervades me, and I find my hand cradling the back of his head. A deep breath fills his chest and he cuddles into me as it releases. Sincere human contact must be a rarity for him. The occasional pretty girl he coaxes into bed using his good looks and whatever lies necessary seem to be the only exceptions. From what I hear, there are guys who say whatever they can to get a girl into bed, and I suspect all girls hope it’s different with them, that guys are honest with them, even though we all know some guys lie to get us to do things with them we wouldn’t otherwise do. This moment is different though. I can see why he wants to go with us. This life is not good for anyone. He needs people to make healthy connections with. He needs a chance to live a somewhat normal life.

“Things will get better when we get to the City of Emeralds,” I whisper, and he pulls back and looks at me, perhaps surprised I might have known what he was thinking. Or I could be reading into things.

“You do give me hope, Dorothy,” he says with sadness in his eyes, so I smile at him.

As he looks into my eyes, at my face, I can tell he wants to kiss me, and even though I kind of want him to, I know he won’t. Not after yesterday.

“Kansas—do you like it?” he asks me.

“It’s all right.”

“Must you go?”

“Yeah, my family thinks I’m dead, and I need them to know I’m alive.”

“Perhaps you might return? Once you let them know you are alive.”

“There’s no reason for me to stay here. This place is dangerous, and I have no one here, no family. The only people I know are Ardie and you, and General Boq, but that’s it.”

“How do you know the General?”

“He threw me a party, and I stayed with him my first night here.”

“The General was Nimmie Amee’s uncle.”

“Oh,” I say. “You must miss her a lot.”

“No, I told you, I’m heartless.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not. I can feel it beating in your chest.”

“Heartless means unfeeling, cold. It is an expression.”

“I know what it means. What I mean is that you choose to be this way, and I think it’s a defense mechanism. If you care for something or someone, it gets taken from you,” I say and he says nothing, but his silence says it all. “You are always alone, aren’t you?”

“Most of the time I am. Not always.”

“You mean you’re not alone when you meet a pretty girl and lie to get her to spend time with you without revealing yourself at all, right?” I say and he smirks at me, his eyes narrowing.

“Perhaps,” he almost admits.

“When you get to the City of Emeralds, you can use your handsome face for good and not evil.”

“If you were staying, I may have been different, but you are leaving, and I did not think you would ever know. I should have figured the zombie was watching us.”

“You shouldn’t have lied at all.”

“I shouldn’t have, but I cannot fall in love with you, Dorothy. You will only leave me behind,” he says and seems sincere.

“Who said anything about falling in love?”

“I would.”

“But I thought you were heartless.”

“I have to be.”

“No, you don’t. After we get to the Vampire Free Zone, you can open up, be normal again.”

“Only if the wizard lets me stay, and I hope he does,” he says and sighs.

“I’ll make him let you stay,” I say with resolve.

“I hope you can. And I hope he can help you return to Kansas, but if he cannot, I will take care of you,” he says, and it’s sweet of him in an archaic sort of way.

“That’s nice of you, but I can take care of myself.”

“That is plain to see,” he says and his expression makes me think he might like me. Yeah, he lied but maybe he likes me.

“The proposal still stands, huh?” I tease, and he smiles.

“Perhaps it does,” he says, a winsome grin lighting up his gorgeous face.

“We’ll see about that,” I say with a smirk before I sit up. “Time to get up.”

He pulls me back down and holds me to him.

“No, not yet,” he says, nuzzling my neck.

“Fan of the cuddle, huh?”

“With you? Very much,” he says, and growls into my neck before he kisses it, and it feels nice but I’m not stupid.

“Nick,” I scold.

“Dorothy,” he murmurs, and kisses my neck again, rolling himself on top of me.

“Nick,” I say, and feign a gasp.

“Dorothy,” he mocks, and leans in for a kiss, and I should stop him, but I don’t want to.

Perfervid lips claim mine, and it’s hot. Lust has buried any pride I had, and although I should tell him to get off, knowing he doesn’t like me for real and it’s morning and he’s a horny guy and that’s all it is, I’m so attracted to him I don’t seem to care about all the other stuff. Why don’t I? Am I that insatiable? Whatever, I’m leaving soon anyway, and I’ll never see him again after I go, so who cares?

Desire barrels through me and I kiss him back, wrapping my legs around him as he presses into me. Deft hands reach up under my shirt and he grasps my breasts, his touch sending waves of deliciousness through me.

So what if he’s a philandering debaucher? It’s a fling. I’ve never had one and there’s a first time for everything. A lot of firsts are happening for me here in this crazy place, and like he said, we could die at any moment.

His touch is like an awakening for my body, while his kisses are dizzying, intoxicating my brain, and together they create a haze of electric lust that has me rolling against him in desperate desire. It’s as though he’s made of hotness and mind-blowing sex and magical pheromones that drive me into a state of hedonistic ataraxia where my mind stops working and the only thing controlling me is blinding arousal. When he touches me, fireworks go off behind the lids of my closed eyes in a visual display of the sparks between us. A far greater pleasure than I’ve ever known careens through me from just his hands on my skin, evoking a yearning for so much more, and a soft moan escapes me, giving me away. He knows just what he’s doing to me.

“Dorothy,” he rumbles into my ear as he nibbles on it, and just the way he says my name is like a promise of the euphoria to come when I break and give myself to him.

“No! No, no, no, no!” I hear as Ardie walks in and he’s shaking his head at us.

The chiding reprimand is like a foghorn, snapping me out of my hormone induced fog.

Nick sighs, irritated, and says, “What’s it to you, Zombie?”

“She knows no better, and you are a scoundrel,” Ardie says, pulling him off me.

“She can take care of herself.”

Heat shoots to my cheeks as they blush, and I’m so humiliated I can’t even speak. Embarrassment percolates through me as I collect myself and sit up, unable to look at anything but my own wringing hands.

“Enough of this flirtation. She is not the girl you take advantage of. You hear?”

“Good thing for us both you are not either of our father to tell us what to do.”

“Well, I am responsible for her wellbeing, for I have made her a promise, and I think perhaps we should go our separate ways here.”

“What? No, you need me,” Nick booms.

“I think we will do fine without you and your dishonorable advances toward Dorothy,” Ardie scoffs.

“Perhaps you should stay, and Dorothy and I should go,” Nick challenges.

“All right, hang on—” I say as they argue, ignoring me. “Hey!” I shout and they both stop bickering to turn toward me. “We’ll all go together and get along. Ardie, I appreciate how protective you are, and I know he’s not sincere. I… whatever, it doesn’t matter. Nick, behave yourself. I will get more water for the road.”

Downright humiliated, I stand, take Nick’s shirt off, throw it at him, grab the empty bottles, and charge out of the cabin.

Outside, Toto is barking up a tree at a bird. When he sees me, he stops, turning his head toward me.

“Don’t go far, Toto. I’m going to the stream to get more water,” I say, and he returns to his barking as I head out.

After a few moments of walking alone in a chagrined daze, I hear jogging footsteps behind me. When I turn my head, I see it’s Nick approaching dressed in his armor and axes, but I don’t stop.

“Dorothy, wait—you should not go alone,” he says as he catches up.

Chastened by Ardie’s words, my insides roil in reddening shame and castigating twinges of blue, twisting me up in purpling knots that squeeze and grind down on my guts. Too disconcerted to speak, with still pink cheeks, silence is all I have to give him, and it’s not for anything he did. I wanted him to kiss me, but that’s what worries me.

Thanks to Ardie’s interruption, a sharp dose of reality has whelmed me, and I allow myself a taciturn moment to take stock. Ardie was right. I shouldn’t have submitted to that. Nick has told me he has no feelings for me, and I should take him at his word. What I wonder is what is wrong with me that I keep giving in? Is it my age, hormones, or worse, a desperate need for love?

As my mind flips through my past for the reasons I lost my pride with this player, one thing pops out at me like a flashing neon sign. No one has loved me since my parents passed, and I’ve missed being loved, but I don’t want to be one of those girls who’s desperate for love, trying to find it in all the wrong places, and this guy has made it clear he’s a wrong place to look.

“Let me carry the bottles for you,” Nick says, trying to take them from me.

“Thanks, but I got it,” I say, curter than he deserves. He’s made his intentions clear. I’m the one who’s been stupid.

“Please do not tell me you are angry with me again,” he says, and I sigh.

“No, I’m angry with myself,” I admit.

“Why?”

“Because I shouldn’t have done it. It’s clear you have no sincere affections for me, and I did it anyway.”

“I… You are leaving, so what does it matter?”

“Nick, I’m not like you. I’ve never had a fling before, so I thought I’d try it but you’re a player and I don’t need that.”

“A player?”

“A guy who plays the field, sleeps with a lot of women.”

“How many is a lot?”

“Any that come your way.”

“Not any. I have standards.”

“Women who are attractive enough, and I get why you do it, but—”

“Why do I do it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Everyone needs comfort and your life seems to lack in that area, but it’ll get better. The City of Emeralds sounds like a place you can relax, make real connections, and not worry about having to kill the people you connect to if they get bitten or something. That’s why I hugged you back, at first. Because it seemed like you needed a hug.”

“Your family in Kansas, are they loving? Do they comfort you and show you affection?”

“No. My parents were, but my aunt and uncle are not affectionate people.”

“Where do you find your comfort and affection?”

As I consider his question, it hits me—I am loved—and I chide myself for not thinking of it before, because it’s a love I may not have survived the past four years without.

“Toto, my dog. When I’m sad, he knows somehow, and he always makes me feel better. Every day he wakes me up with kisses and cuddles with me. Toto’s my best friend. We take care of each other, and I know people don’t have dogs here, but…” I say and giggle.

“Why do you laugh?”

“General Boq asked if he was my husband. I said he was my companion, and he thought…” I stop, laughing to hard to speak. He smiles. “Sorry, it’s so silly,” I say as I collect myself.

“I did not think he was your boyfriend,” he smirks.

“Good.”

“Toto likes Ardie very much.”

“Ardie hunts with him. They bred his kind to hunt, and he loves it. Toto’s got a great nose. He’s a bloodhound,” I say, and his eyes widen.

“He drinks blood?”

“No! The name has to do with being pure blood or something. Toto’s a mutt though. Mixed with another kind of dog, but I’m not sure what. Something ferocious, I think. Most bloodhounds are docile. Toto can be feisty. But he’s not a biter.”

“That is a good thing in this realm,” he says as we reach the brook.

First, we fill the bottles, then he washes his face and hands, and I do the same.

“There are leaves in your hair again. Shall I be your comb?”

“Sure,” I say and lie back on the same rock.

He takes off his armor and clothes, but this time he takes off everything.

“Nick,” I warn, eyebrow raised. As his eyes darken, a proud grin takes over his face, and he has every reason to be.

“You should remove your shirt. It will get wet again.”

I realize he’s right but…

“This is not an invitation for sex or anything,” I warn as I remove my blouse. I still have on my bra so it’s no big deal.

“I know. You cannot remove your pants. I remember, believe me.”

As I lie back, he gets into the water and positions himself behind me. He runs his fingers through my hair, and with the help of the water rushing by, he removes the fragments of pale, dead leaves entangled in the chocolate brown strands. Upside down and from above, he leans over and places a light kiss on my lips. With a soft groan, I roll my eyes at him and he chuckles.

“All clean,” he says once he’s done.

I sit up and twist the water from my hair. When he gets out of the stream, very naked, looking so tempting, my eyes pore over him, and his do the same to me.

“Your undergarment is…” he says and stops, staring right at my breasts.

He intumesces before my widening eyes, and it takes everything I have not to do something about it. But I don’t. I won’t. Instead, I sit on the rock and ring out my hair.

“Is what?”

“Unique, and I like it,” he says, a smoldering smile playing on his lips.

“I can see that. I’m trying not to stare,” I admit.

“You stare all you like.”

Even with such a tempting invitation, I force myself to avert my eyes and focus on squeezing the water from my hair. After a few thorough twists, when my hair is much dryer, I put my shirt back on and he dresses. I do my best not to watch, but I fail. He’s perfect, with chiseled everything, broad shoulders, cut abs and arms, and those sparkling green eyes—he’s so hot I can see why he gets a lot of girls.

Once dressed, we take up the bottles and head back to the cabin, walking side by side.

“Dorothy, what is a fling?” he asks, his shining eyes and straight nose squinched in puzzled amusement.

“A dalliance. You know, a short sexual relationship. I’ve never had one.”

“Ah, I see. Only long relationships then?”

“Only one. My ex-boyfriend. We were together for a year and a half, and I didn’t sleep with him right away.”

“A year and a half you were together, but you say you have never been in love?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong—I liked him, but I wasn’t in love with him. There aren’t many options where I live. He lived on a farm near ours. We attended the same school and only a few people go there. The area I live in is desolate. He was older, so when he graduated and went to college, we broke up.”

“How much older?”

“Two and a half years. He’s about twenty now.”

“What is college?”

“School, but for older kids. Higher education. He went to a technical college where you learn a trade. His family owns a farm, so he went for agriculture. Unlike me, he liked Kansas.”

“You do not?”

“No.”

“But you will still return?”

“Yeah, I don’t plan on staying in Kansas too long. After I finish high school, I’ll go to college somewhere else, if I can afford it. I have the grades and the test scores because all I do is study these days, but no cash,” I shrug.

“You do not have the money to pay?”

“No, but I can take out loans. I may not get enough though, and then there’s paying them back,” I say and sigh, daunted by that unfortunate aspect of my future.

“You would borrow the money even though you do not have the means to pay?” he asks confused.

“Yeah, it’s normal where I’m from.”

“That seems risky.”

“Most people are in debt their entire lives. Unless I miraculously get a scholarship, which is highly unlikely, I’ll probably go to a community college first to save money. It’s much less expensive.”

“Do you want that life?”

“No, but what other options do I have?”

“Stay in the Land of Oz, in the Emerald City.”

“And do what? I have no money in this realm, no skills.”

“You have those boots. They give you great skills,” he says.

“What would I be? An assassin for hire? No thanks.”

“I said I would take care of you.”

“Yeah, like I believe that.”

“I would.”

“How kind,” I say with an eye roll. “You’re a smooth talker, I’ll give you that. Too bad for you that’s not a job.”

We arrive back at the cabin with the water, and we eat apples and turkey for breakfast. Ardie fed Toto when we were at the stream, so throughout breakfast, Ardie and Toto play fetch. As I watch them play, Nick watches me, and the heat of his stare is penetrating, etching into me. Our eyes connect when I cannot help but look at him, and it’s as though he can see straight into me. It makes my heart race in vulnerable anticipation, but then an enticing grin takes over his face, and I become nauseated.

The dichotomy of the attraction and repulsion I experience with this guy makes me queasy. There are moments where he’s so sincere, sweet, sexy, and the chemistry between us is so extreme all my good sense goes out the window. But then there’s the other side of him, the side that wants nothing from me other than the use of my body for his pleasure. It’s that side of him, the side that’s so blatant it verges on lecherous, that makes it clear sex is all he wants. From one moment to the next, he goes from swoon-worthy, falling in love sort of moments to suggestive winks and eyebrow waggles, and it’s so confusing it’s as though I split in two, like a forked river. One second, I’m just floating along, and the next I’m divided, going one way and the other all at once.

Where is my sense of pride? Am I that big a sucker for a pretty face? What is wrong with me? Focus on your food, Dorothy, and just eat.

We finish our breakfast, gather our things, then hit the road. And we walk for hours and hours.

* * *

The trek through the thick woods has proven to be quite the task. The terrain is rough, broken, jagged. Dried branches and dead leaves from the surrounding trees blanket the crumbling yellow brick. As we walk up and down hills over and over again, the only sounds come from a few birds that caw their warning calls throughout the ominous forest.

Now and again, a deep growl comes from some wild animal, or perhaps a werebeast, hidden among the trees. Not knowing what makes the scary sounds causes my heart to speed up, but Toto knows, and he knows well enough to walk close to my side, not daring to bark back. On the plus side though, because it is a bright day, no vampires are out, so that is a relief.

Old blackened blood only speckles the crumbling bricks, letting us know it’s been a while since anyone slaughtered anyone here, but as we approach a stretch of dense forest, I notice the bricks ahead are bloodier than most we’ve past.

“Do you see how much bloodier those bricks are?” I say to my companions as we approach the red doused stretch of the once yellow road before us.

A long, low growl from Toto rumbles, stirring my senses. In half a breath, my boots cover me in curving, fluid plates of shining silver metal. When Nick turns to me with a questioning expression, an arrow shoots down from a tree and clinks against his helmet.

Arrows rain down on us, and Ardie scoops Toto up into his arms, turning away to shield him from whatever is attacking. Three arrows pierce the zombie—two in his arm, one in his back—and he does not even flinch. Protected from the assault by our armor, Nick and I are both free to appraise our surroundings. I raise my arm to shield my exposed face as I scrutinize the landscape, my keen eyes poring over the sinister panorama. Then I spot them. Human-shaped figures nock arrows up in the trees that line the sides of the road, but I can’t see if they’re vampires because they’re shaded by tight clusters of leaves.

“Zombies,” Nick breathes as he eyes the trees, readying his axes for a fight.

“These brains are mine!” Ardie calls out.

Zombies descend on lines that hang from the heights of the trees as a large spear comes flying right at me. I catch it in one hand before it penetrates my skull. As the zombies land and menace toward us, I throw the spear back, chucking it through the air like a javelin. It strikes with the speed of a bolt of lightning, piercing the zombie in the center of the pack. It goes clean through his chest into the tree behind him, taking a large chunk of his midsection with it, but the zombie keeps coming as though he was never hit.

This poses a problem.

“Nice try,” the zombie with a gaping hole in his chest says.

In tattered purple uniforms that make the zombies look as though they were once a militia in the seventeen hundreds, the one I struck leads the mob as they advance, the blue-gray of their skin revealing itself the closer they get. Black cuts and scars on their hands and faces make them look far worse than Ardie, as though they have been undead much longer than he has.

“These brains are mine,” Ardie growls, his eyes like steel.

There are at least twenty, and in the time we need to take each one out, I worry they will harm Toto.

“Not anymore, young zombie,” the one with the gaping hole says. “Let me guess, you sustain your hunger by eating the brains of animals like the one you carry.”

Black sludge fills the hole in his torso as he speaks, sloshing onto the ground, forming a viscous film that grows together around the zombie’s injury like festering black magic. When the film fuses, it morphs into a thin layer of blue-gray tissue that bubbles pus as it contains the gelatinous death goop. The disgusting sight makes me gag, and I almost vomit.

“Fear for your soul is worthless, and protecting the living as you hunger day and night, regretting the gift of eternal life zombiism has given you is pathetic. Perhaps it is time we put you out of your misery.”

As they draw near, the female zombie at his side takes out a broadsword and positions to decapitate Ardie, brandishing it toward him.

“Get ready,” Nick says under his breath as they close in on us with dragging steps. As fast as I can move, which is faster than most thanks to my magic boots, I turn to Ardie and open the bag of weapons on his shoulder, taking out the flamethrower.

“Run for cover and keep Toto safe. You don’t want to be here when I light them all up.”

My suit, far quicker than I am, lifts the rifle-like torch, takes aim, and presses the trigger. A flame ignites a gelatinous solution that shoots toward them with the force of a fire hose, burning up the zombies in close range. Ardie bolts into the copse of dense trees at our backs with Toto tight to his chest and my bag of weapons hanging on his shoulder.

The ten zombies before us ignite like torches, wailing as they fall to the ground in a blazing heap while the ones at the back run away in fear. I give chase, speeding through the wall of undead flames into the thick woods. Axes at the ready, Nick follows, and we come upon them faster than I imagined we would—it seems older zombies are slow and easy to catch.

“If we can avoid the flames in the woods we should. Fire will spread fast here,” Nick says as we run toward them.

I drop the flamethrower, and in an instant, my suit of armor grows sharp blades from my knees, fists, toes, and elbows. At the sounds of our approach, the group of around ten see us charging toward them, and they scatter. Nick gives chase in one direction, and I go in the other. Instinct or the boots take over, and I leap off the ground, flying in spinning twists and flips, my bladed limbs kicking out. Zombie heads fly, rolling through the leaves, splatting against rocks as their now-detached bodies go limp, falling, oozing black blood from their necks.

Sylphlike, I land on my feet, scan the woods, and when I look up, I see zombies descending from the trees. Some are on lines and others climb down, gripping the trunks with spiked shoes. The zombies on lines reach the ground fast, while the others move slow enough I have some time before I’m swarmed. There are at least thirty, and I worry about Nick, wondering how many he may be facing. I’ll need to handle these guys fast and get to Nick to help him.

Mettle imbues me, and it’s surprising because I should be afraid, running away in fear, but something in me only wants to eliminate them so they can’t attack anyone else.

As a group of around fifteen close in on me from all sides, my suit of armor sends me into action. I flip in twists and kicks and spirals, taking some out by beheading them, but anywhere else I strike only slows down others.

Dozens more arrive, attacking, unfazed by my strikes and stabs. With long swords extending from my fists, I behead and slice the ones closest in two, lengthwise and across, even diagonal, but there are too many. The number of zombies on me only increases the more zombies I behead and dismember, and I recall what Nick said—no matter how many he kills, more keep coming.

When I take out one, three more come to take its place, and soon enough I have at least fifty surrounding me, grabbing at me from all sides as I attack as many as I can at once. There are so many they pull me down to the ground and pile onto me as though I was the ball in a rugby ruck. Growls and grunts and ravenous bites, they yank and pull and scratch and hit, but my suit protects me from it all, and when one goes to bite my exposed face, my armor covers me altogether. Darkness is all I can see and panic sets in.

Blackness, snarls, and the weight of more and more zombies piling onto my body consume my senses. Then the armor covering my eyes and face turns into a screen of sorts, and the outlines of their menacing faces and clawing hands glow like blue night vision.  The weight of so many on me, scratching at me, biting me, and striking me should suffocate me, and I’m gasping, but I have plenty of air to breathe. It should be far more painful than it is, and I should panic, but a stillness of mind allows me to think about how to get out of this.

Images enter my mind at lightning speed.

Porcupine.

Blowfish.

Blooming flower.

Coffee grinder.

I wish my boots could poke out sharp spikes like a porcupine, but have long, slicing grinder blades on the ends that open like the bloom of a flower. If it could do that, I could get them off me. If I can’t, I’ll die here. Or turn undead. I think I’d rather die than suffer the way Ardie does. Tears well in my eyes as sorrow.

My suit bucks as it adjusts, and the zombies piling onto me groan and screech as they try to scurry away, their black blood and guts spraying as I impale them, my suit grinding them up from the inside.

Space above me opens as they try to flee, and I can move again. I thrust out my arms and legs with as much force as the suit allows and get on my feet. As I look out at the fight ahead of me, there are so many zombies surrounding me it’s pointless to count. I should have never dropped that flamethrower. Now I will have to kill each one and there are far more than I expected.

My rotating bladed spikes shrink back into my armor and long swords grow out of my fists. Like lightning, I strike with speed and force as they come at me from all sides and from the trees above. In long sweeping motions I spin, beheading entire rows, ten at a time. Some of them are skilled fighters, but they are slow, and I realize, aside from the shoes, that my biggest advantage is speed, so I think fast, as fast as I can move. I envision it all in my mind’s eye—how I can take them all out before they are on me again—and as I visualize it, I do it. After only a few minutes of high-speed sweeping strikes, I have beheaded almost all of them.

The zombies on the outskirts of the melee run off in fear, and when the last of the attacking zombies’ heads roll, I give chase. In a flying leap, I flip through the air over a group of five and cut off their heads before I land on my feet with a deep bend at the knee. Three more climb a tree about a hundred yards away and I race after them.

When I arrive at the tree, I scale the trunk far faster than they did, and when I am right beneath them, I reach up and pull them down, grabbing their feet and tossing them to the ground, one after the other. When all three splat on the forest floor, they get up unfazed, but because they are broken from the fall, they’re slow. I push off the trunk, dive down and attack, beheading all three in one spinning flip, the sword from my fist taking out two and the sword from my foot taking out the other.

After a graceful landing, I survey the woods around me and see a group of about ten zombies running off in the distance, so I bolt after them. When I reach them, I attack straightaway, and I take less than ten seconds to eliminate them all.

Another scan of the woods and I spot a group of six dashing away in the other direction. Fleet-footed, I sprint after them, moving faster than any human should be able to move. The leaves of the surrounding trees rustle as I pass, and at the mere start of the thought of doing it, I leap up and bank off tree trunks, gaining height, bounding from one tree to the next with each mounting step. When I get close enough, I descend on the group in an Olympic level free dive. Elaborate twists and somersaults close the gap between us, and with my arms out, spinning in a windmill, I behead them all with the biserrate antennae-like blades that protrude from my fists before landing on my feet with the grace of a cat. As I stand upright, their lifeless bodies hit the ground and their heads roll away.

Again, I scan the woods, my vision sharp and focused, and in the distance through the trees, I see Nick and a group of around twenty zombies. He’s fighting hard, throwing them off of him, and he’s smart enough to create a distance between him and as many of the zombies as he can. In a single whirling motion, Nick strikes at the necks of two zombies with an axe in each hand, taking them out.

I pore over the forest for more and find I can see a distance far greater than my near-sighted eyes ever could before the boots. I examine the treetops and see no more undead, so I speed toward Nick.

When I draw near I jump into the fray. From the back of the group, I attack, taking out five at once, and soon enough all but one remains. Nick strikes the zombie at its neck and its head falls onto the pile of zombie parts. He’s harrowed, panting behind his helmet that reveals none of his face, and that design makes a lot more sense now. It looks like he killed at least fifteen before I got here. My armor opens up, revealing my face, and I smile at him.

“Hey, nice work,” I say.

“There are others,” he says, breathing heavy but ready to keep fighting. I inspect the woods again, the treetops, and there are none. If there were, they got away, but they move so slow I doubt they did. I think it’s safe to say they are all dead for good.

“Nah, we’re fine, I got them all.”

He lifts his hand to his helmet and reaches inside. Then the front of his helmet slides open with the press of a switch and raises an eyebrow of disbelief at me.

“I can see crazy far away now thanks to the boots. There aren’t any zombies left in these woods,” I tell him as we start back toward the road.

“Lucky for you that you have those boots,” he smirks at me as though I’d be dead without them, and I want to take offense, but he’s right—I would be so dead by now without these boots.

“No kidding,” I say, and a broad grin takes over his full lips.

“How far can you see?”

“A few miles at least. Crazy, right?”

“Miles?”

“Oh, um… I can see pretty far.”

With a quizzical head tilt, he asks, “Ardie and Toto, do you see them? Are they safe?”

I search the woods and spot Ardie and Toto hiding behind a tree. I can see right through the trunk, like I have X-ray vision.

“Yeah, they’re hiding behind a tree trunk and I can see right through it. These boots are incredible.”

“You are incredible,” he says, and the way he says it, like he means it, makes my heart jump and my cheeks blush.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” I shrug, dorking out, and I instantly kick myself for lacking any sort of cool factor with this guy. As I avert my eyes I hear him chuckle at me, and I’m officially embarrassed.

We head back to Ardie and Toto in silence, and on the way, I pick up my flamethrower from the ground where I left it. After around fifteen minutes of walking, we arrive at the tree where they hide. Ardie lets out a groan of relief as he tosses me the bag of weapons, and I put the flamethrower back in the bag.

“Keep that thing away from me,” Ardie says with a shiver, and I notice the arrows that once impaled him lie at his feet. “Did you burn them all?”

“No, we beheaded them. I sliced some in two,” I tell him.

“The bodies, where are they?”

“The woods, there,” I say, and point in the direction we came.

“You need to burn them.”

“Why?” Nick asks.

“They will not be dead until you do. If their bodies can get back to their heads, they can reattach them.”

“Gross,” I say, shuddering as I envision that scene.

“It will take time for them to regain mobility. The count—how many were there?”

“I took out at least fifty or sixty,” I say and Ardie’s eyes widen.

“And I around thirty, so at least eighty,” Nick says.

“They must be a company from the Gillikin Army gone rogue, as their uniforms would suggest.”

“Gillikin Army?” I ask.

“Yes,” Nick says. “Gillikin Country is the territory of the Zombie Witch Mombi. Zombiism infected almost all of Gillikin Country, either with the spice or in attacks. They reached a treaty when the Wizard arrived. Some battalions of the Gillikin Army went rogue when the treaty stopped them from going into surrounding countries to feed. With all of Gillikin turned, it forced them to eat the brains of livestock instead of the brains of humans.”

“Yuck,” I say and shudder.

“Their blood is infectious. We cannot leave them in the woods. Burn them,” Ardie says.

“But the woods will burn,” Nick says.

“If you’d rather we drag out all eighty bodies to the road and burn them there, the fire may not spread then, but we could be here for a long time,” Ardie says and Nick sighs. There’s something sweet about the fact he cares for the trees and the animals in these woods. “Listen, I understand your concern. I hate fire. I hate it. But zombies fill these woods. There are even more than what the two of you just fought, and the animals will know to run if the fire spreads.”

“The trees can’t run away,” Nick says.

“Says the man who chopped them down to make his living,” Ardie says and scoffs.

“We grew them to chop them down. We didn’t chop down all the forest,” Nick points out in his defense.

“Do you want to bring the bodies into the road? It is dangerous for you, for Dorothy, and for Toto to come into contact with the blood,” Ardie points out, and Nick sighs again. “We cannot just leave them there. I would guess their blood has already infected the surrounding plants. It will infect the trees, and they will infect the bugs, the birds, the animals, and this forest will end up just like Gillikin.”

A vision of a zombie forest enters my mind, where all the trees, animals, birds, and insects are undead. A bite from a zombie bug, spreading zombiism that way, terrifies me. We have to burn it.

“Let’s burn it down,” Nick says, heavyhearted.

Ardie nods and we walk to the edge of the woods.

“I will wait here with Toto. If it spreads, we will need to move fast to stay in front of the fire. Once you ignite them all, hurry back to the road,” Ardie says.

I nod and turn to Nick, handing him the bag of weapons before I remove the flamethrower.

“I should do this on my own. These boots help me move fast and there’s only one flamethrower. Show me where you left the bodies you took out and then hurry back here.”

“They are right where we were when you found me.”

“Good. Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Perhaps I should be the one—”

“No, I got this. Wait here. Watch Toto. I’ll be back,” I say and speed into the woods to the places where I took out the ones farthest away and then I’ll work my way back.

When I arrive, their headless bodies are already moving, twitching, and Ardie was right—soon enough they’d be searching for their heads. The surrounding trees are blackening already. I pull the trigger on the flamethrower and a stream of violent fire shoots from its tip. When I light the zombies up, the dry woods light up with them, and I take off toward the next group of bodies.

As I speed through the forest, I release my flamethrower onto each headless body and dismembered head I come across while hurrying to the pile of zombies that almost killed me. I’m startled to see how many there were—far over fifty. They must have been a company of over a hundred.

Already reaching out, trying to move and find their other parts, I know I need to move fast. The flames behind me are tearing through the blackening woods. The bodies here are already moving too well and could run away if I leave nature to do it for me, so I pull the trigger.

A ferocious torrent of flames bursts forth igniting the pile of undead, decapitated bodies that twitch as they burn, their zombie heads waking up to scream shrill, wailing shrieks as they die for good. The fire spreads fast to the trees and bushes, and when I am sure they are all burning, I sprint to the ones I took out with Nick.

As I approach, I release the flames onto their twitching, oozing body parts, and their wailing shrieks are unnerving, sending shivers down my spine. Once they are ablaze, I hurry away to find the fire is proliferating far faster through the dry woods than I expected, and the brutal inferno outspreads with such speed, it’s as though the flames are chasing me back to the road. I take off, running as fast as I can, and as I do, I yell to Ardie.

“Go! I’ll catch up! Run!” I shout, hoping they can hear me over the crackling of the fire and the falling trees.

Heat prickles my back and sweat beads up under my armor. I run hard, moving as fast as these boots allow, and when I get closer to the road with a wall of fire at my back, I see Nick waiting for me, standing alone.

“Hurry!” he shouts as the flames pass me by, engulfing me. The fire burns so bright and hot that Nick disappears from my sight as everything around me is consumed by flame.

In an instant, my armor covers my face, and I’m hot, but I’m not burning. As I run through the blaze, my armor adjusts, cooling me down. After a moment, I emerge from the woods onto the road to see Nick dropped in defeat, grief stricken. I step up to him and his head shoots up to look at me.

“I’m fine,” I assure him, and without a word he stands, takes my hand in his, and we run down the bloodied road of yellow brick.

Up ahead I see Ardie with Toto in his arms, running hard. He’s fast for a zombie, thank goodness. We catch up to them, and we all run without stopping, doing our best to get as far ahead of the flames as we can. At our heels, the blaze consumes the forest, and our feet pound down on the brick as we try to escape. When we pass a stream, running over a bridge, we slow down hoping the fire will stop at the water. And thank goodness it does.

8

The Cowardly Shifter

As we travel along, we look back often to see the fire dying down in the distance. Another hour passes and the flames subside enough for Ardie to unclench, and at a much slower pace than the brisk jog we were in, we continue down the bloodied road of yellow brick without incident for a few more hours, speaking little to each other.

Jarred by the fire, Ardie says nothing at all, while Nick looks pensive, and I wish I knew what was going on in his head. So, I break the silence to ease my discomfort.

“How long do you think it will it be,” I ask Nick, “before we are out of the forest?”

“I cannot tell, for I have never been to the Emerald City, but my father went there once when I was a boy and said it was a long journey through a dangerous country. Nearer to the city where the Great and Terrifying Wizard of Oz dwells, they say the country is beautiful, but that was before the plague. Now I imagine it’s crawling with night creatures.”

Loud growling soughs through the trees, followed by a terrible roar that startles us all. I jump back with a gasp, and my armor surrounds my body. A split second later, a great beast bounds into the road—man and lion fused together to create one terrifying creature the size of a small car. Whether it’s instinct or logic that tells me this werebeast won’t attack, I am not sure. It announced its arrival with growls and roars. Enough nature shows have taught me a lion hunting would have remained quiet. Or maybe it’s the boots assuring me this werelion can’t hurt me.

But then he pounces. One blow of his paw sends Ardie flying to the edge of the road. Another sonorous roar, then he strikes Nick with his sharp claws. The beast makes no impression on his armor, but Nick falls over with a loud clank into the crumbling yellow brick. As a defensive measure, Nick lays still on the road, as if the shifter may just go away.

Far too brave for his own good, Toto runs barking toward the werelion. I rush forward as it opens his mouth to bite my dog, and for some reason only my boots know, instead of killing the thing, I slap the werelion upon his nose.

“Don’t you dare bite my dog,” I say, seething. “Shame on you, a big shifter like you trying to bite such a small creature.”

“But I didn’t bite him,” says the Werelion, whimpering as he rubs his nose with his massive paw.

“No, but you tried to, coward, attacking something so little.”

“I know it,” says the Werelion, hanging his head in shame. “I’ve always known it. Why do you think I did this to myself? Because I’m a coward and I needed something to defend myself against the undead.”

“So, you go around striking an unbitten man and a kind zombie?”

“Is he kind?” asks the Werelion in surprise as he watches me pick Ardie up and set him upon his feet.

“We’re all walking together, aren’t we?”

“Well, if he’s a human man, why is he dressed like a sorcerer?”

“That’s armor, genius,” I say as Nick stands and brushes himself off.

“That’s why he almost blunted my claws. When they scratched against the tin, it made a cold shiver run down my back,” he says and shudders. “And what is that vicious little creature?”

“He is my dog, Toto.”

“Is he an undead or a werebeast?”

“Neither. He’s a dog, an animal, and a tiny one compared to you.”

“Oh, what a curious thing. He seems so small now that I look at him. Only a coward like me would think of biting such a little creature.”

“What’s with the act?” I ask, eyeing the great beast with suspicion.

“Act?”

“You’re as big as a tree but whimpering like a toddler.”

“It’s not an act,” replies the Werelion. “I suppose I was born this way. When the plague hit, I thought I’d turn myself into a werelion, for the lion is the King of Beasts and all the other creatures would fear me. Everyone expects me to be brave, even though I am not. Never have been. Soon, I learned loud roars frightened every man, werebeast, vampire, and undead, and they would all get out of my way. Whenever I come across anyone at all, I’m always scared, but then I roar at them, and they always run away as fast as they can go. Any time the werebeasts or the zombies or the vampires have ever tried to fight me, I’ve run because I’m such a coward, but as soon as they hear me roar, they all try to get away from me, and I let them go every time.”

“The King of Werebeasts shouldn’t be a coward,” says Ardie.

“I know it,” the Werelion says and pouts, wiping a tear from his eye with the tip of his tail. “Whenever there is a danger, which is often, my heart beats so fast I shake. It’s embarrassing.”

“Perhaps you have a heart disease,” remarks Nick with a snort.

“Perhaps I do,” gasps the Werelion, a new layer of worry etching into his furry, shifter face.

“At least he has a heart,” Ardie snorts back in the Werelion’s defense.

“If I were heartless, perhaps I would not be a coward. When I was just a man, I was the biggest coward of them all. I thought becoming a werelion would cure it, but it did nothing for it. The only thing it did was give me a loud roar, a way to trick the undead into thinking I was brave, and I can run far faster than before. It was not worth it. Oh, it hurt so much. For a week straight I cried from the pain. Every time I think of it, I cry again for fear of shifting back. I’ll never be brave enough to do it. Even if I were brave enough to live as a man again, I couldn’t because I’m too much of a coward to shift again. Oh, I wish I were a courageous man. Then I could be a courageous werelion and be the King of Werebeasts—what a werelion should be.”

“I am going to the Great and Terrifying Wizard of Oz to ask him to cure me,” remarks Ardie, “for I hate being a zombie. All I ever desire or think of is my need to consume brains—I can’t sleep or eat real food. It’s a terrible ailment,” Ardie says, forlorn, joining in the Werelion’s pity party.

“Are you going to the Emerald City too?” the Werelion asks Nick.

“Yes, to get away from a life of murdering vampires and night creatures like you two,” Nick says, and the Werelion cowers in fear.

“A-and you, Sorceress?” the Werelion asks, stuttering.

“I’m not a sorceress, just a person, and yeah, I will ask him to send Toto and me back to Kansas, the place I came to this realm from.”

“Do you think the Great and Terrifying Wizard of Oz could give me courage?”

“Perhaps he can,” Ardie says. “Perhaps you wouldn’t need it if you lived in the Vampire Free Zone. There are murmurs he can cure my zombiism, and if he can do that, if he can give the Axeman a chance to have a heart again, if he can get Dorothy and Toto back to Kansas, anything is possible.”

“Then, if you don’t mind, may I go with you?” asks the Werelion, “For I am too afraid to travel there alone, and my life is unbearable without even a smidgeon of courage in this plagued world.”

“Maybe he could help to keep away the other werebeasts. Just the look of him could be enough of a help to make it there,” I say to Nick and Ardie.

“Even though I am far from it, I look quite intimidating,” the Werelion says.

When Nick and Ardie both give reluctant nods of assent, our little group sets off upon the journey.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Clem, but most people just call me Werelion.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Werelion, for I was never too fond of Clem.”

“Werelion it is. I’m Dorothy, this is Nick, that’s Ardie, and this is my dog, Toto.”

“Nice to meet you all and thank you for allowing me to accompany you to the Vampire Free Zone.”

As we travel through the forest filled with dangerous night creatures, Werelion walks in majestic strides at my side. Toto hasn’t forgotten how the shifter attacked him earlier, but as the day goes on, he relaxes, and by sunset, Toto and Werelion become good friends.

The sun goes down, and the sounds of the forest get more and more frightening. Even though I am keeping fierce company, or the appearance of ferocity, I grow more and more nervous at what the night will bring with no shelter in sight. I stick close to Nick and Ardie, and the Werelion sticks close to me, while Toto, who seems just as fearful, stays close to my feet.

Because talk only calls attention to us, we do not speak. And the evening goes on with no further challenges from vampires or werebeasts or zombies, and when we pass through some quiet woods, we find a place off the road to spend the night.

9

The Haunting of Nick Chopper

We find a space amongst the trees where we can camp out for the night and build a fire that won’t spread. Nick chops a large pile of wood with his axe and gets an impressive blaze going while I take out our food for dinner. When I offer to share the turkey with the Werelion, he eats most of what we have left over, leaving only scraps for Toto’s breakfast. I have no clue what we’ll do for food from here on out.

“Dorothy, if you wish,” says the Werelion with an endearing timidity, “I will go into the forest and kill a deer to roast it by the fire since you prefer cooked food, and then you will have plenty for the rest of the trip.”

“That would be appropriate,” says Nick, “considering you ate all we had.”

“Time for me to find my dinner and get away from this fire. Toto and I will hunt with you,” Ardie says, and the three of them take off into the woods.

“At last, we are alone,” Nick says, the corner of his mouth quirked up and his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Nick—” I start when he cuts me off my pulling me into his side, his arm wrapping around my waist.

“Yes?” he says close to my face.

My heart pounds at his touch, and his proximity. Why must he be so attractive?

He plants an impassioned kiss on my lips, and without thinking, I reciprocate the kiss, my armor folding back into my boots in a blink. When he pulls away and grasps my breasts, his darkened, hooded eyes search mine, heavy with ardor. My lips fall open on the verge of a protest, but nothing comes out as he nuzzles my neck.

“Nick, we shouldn’t,” I say, my voice quivering with pleasure.

“Shouldn’t we?” he says before nibbling my earlobe, sending wonderful tingles through my entire body, causing me to gasp.

The energy between us feels like an addiction waiting to happen. You know it’s terrible for you, but you want it anyway, and you can’t help but do it. Regret inundates you when you do, but you still don’t stop. And the cycle repeats until you need to go to therapy or rehab to kick the dreadful habit. I’ve never been addicted to anything before, but I could see how fast I could get addicted to him, to the sensations he elicits from me.

“Mmmm, Dorothy,” he purrs as he caresses me with skilled hands, and my heart surges, reaching out for him, and then it drops, because I know how stupid I’m being.

“Nick, please… stop,” I utter in a reluctant whisper, almost unable to speak the words.

“What?” he says, perplexed, but he stops and moves back.

“Sorry, but I can’t,” I say as I straighten myself out.

“Why?”

“Do you want an honest answer or an easy answer?”

“An honest one.”

Honesty is hard when you know your words only leave you bare, and they won’t change anything at all, but he’s right when he says we could die at any moment, and I don’t want to die a liar, so I muster up the courage to tell him the truth.

“I don’t think I can do those things without wanting more, or I’m not sure I can, and I know you don’t want more.”

“Need I remind you that you’re leaving.”

“I know I am. And just so you know, I want to,” I admit. “Even though it’s not what’s best for me, for my heart. You know, the organ you lack?” I say, teasing him.

“Dorothy, you are beautiful. There is a strong attraction between us. You are unique, from another world, another realm, and if I thought you would stay… but I know you will leave, and you know you will leave. This time is all we have. Why can it not just be what it is? A… fling?”

“Sorry, but I can’t,” I say, and remove his hand from my waist.

“You want to, so why don’t you?” he asks, looking mystified, like he does not understand why I would deny myself.

“I could develop feelings for you beyond just being travel companions. You’re very attractive and have this brooding bad boy thing going on,” I say, and he laughs at that remark. “It’s hard, knowing you are cold in that way, that you won’t develop feelings too, because you are, as you say, heartless.”

“You would want me to fall in love with you for you to leave me behind?”

“I mean…” I say and stop. I think it over and that would be cruel of me, considering what he’s been through.

“If you would stay, live in the Emerald City, have I not already said I would take care of you? How many hours ago did I make you that promise?”

“Yeah, fine, but it’s an empty one because you know I am going home.”

“It is possible you may not be able to return. In this case, I may allow myself to fall in love. Until that happens, I am happy to be with you now.”

“You would ‘take care of me’ as you say, if I can’t go home?”

“I would.”

“If you meet a girl you like and fall in love with her, would you still take care of me? Is this like a charity thing or—”

“Dorothy, I like you, but I do not love you because I love no one, but you do not love me either. You only like me, but I know you still want to kiss me too.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“So what?”

“Yes, so what? Attraction isn’t everything. I can control myself. It’s clear this concept is foreign to you, but I don’t just indulge my every whim and desire.”

“Neither do I, but when I can affection from a woman as beautiful as you, I try for it. I have not failed yet. That I will admit. However, if I had to choose between any of the ones who came before you and you to find that comfort in, I would choose you.”

“Why? When I can only kiss you and they could do much more,” I say.

“Well, I will accept only a kiss, but we could work around the predicament of the pants,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement.

“We won’t.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t have protection.”

“Protection?” he asks confused.

“I could get pregnant,” I say and his eyes widen, thinking of that fact. “I won’t have your baby if I’ll never see you again,” I chortle.

“That is a fantastic reason.”

“I know.”

“Then we will not try to work around the pants predicament. Problem solved,” he smiles in triumph and I laugh at him, shaking my head. He pulls me in closer. “Dorothy, relax. You would not care if Ardie did not admonish you for it.”

That’s true. Before that, I enjoyed kissing him. It was comforting in this strange situation. Bad luck and happenstance ripped me from my world and threw me into this crazy land of monsters, but here is this beautiful guy who wants to vivify our frightening journey with pleasure and warmth.

He must sense I am softening because he leans in and touches his forehead to mine, and I let him. As his breath caresses my lips, our noses touch, and my resolve waivers, but I don’t kiss him, even though I know he’s waiting for me to do it. I refused him last time, and he’s a gentleman even if he claims to be heartless. What is the harm in a kiss? Fine, Ardie doesn’t approve, but he’s not my moral authority.

Nick pulls away from our nuzzle, searching my eyes, and his brows knit. He looks pained, which surprises me, and he takes my hands in his. Just holding his hands sets off sparks inside me that send my heart into flutters of a feeling I’ve never experienced before him. He looks down at our clasped hands and takes a deep breath, then looks up at me with an imploring gaze.

“Dorothy, please don’t go back to Kansas.”

“I have to let them know I’m alive.”

“You don’t even like Kansas.”

“This place is scary, Nick.”

“We are traveling to the Vampire Free Zone. It isn’t the same there.”

“I still have to finish school.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because…” If I didn’t return, then it wouldn’t matter about finishing school, I guess… but… “What would I do here for a living? Where I come from, women are past the point of being ‘taken care of’ by men. I want to have a job, a skill, like you. It would be nice to take care of myself.”

“Anything you want to do you can do.”

“I don’t know what that is yet though. That’s what school is for. If it didn’t work out for me here, what would I do then?”

“It will. Stay,” he says, gazing into me with one of his penetrating stares that could easily be another lie. He’s a good liar—I already know that—but this feels real, as though it might be more than hormones and incredible chemistry, like it might be more than just a fling, or at least it could be.

“Maybe—” I start and he interrupts me by dragging the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip in a gentle caress, and it makes me want to kiss him so bad I might burst.

As I lean in, my resolve melts away, but I stop short when I hear a crackling, like feet stepping on dried leaves and twigs nearby. With a tilt of his head, he listens.

“Ooh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” a small, beautiful woman says as she emerges from the forest and steps into the light of the fire. Nick’s eyes widen at the sight of her, and he jumps to his feet. She’s short, fair skinned, with long red hair, and gorgeous. Seduction oozes from her as she simpers. “Hello, Nicky.”

Nicky? Bet she’s one of his former girlfriends.

“Nimmie! I thought…” he says and stops, in shock. She’s his vampire ex-fiancé. This is just great. Nicky and Nimmie? Yuck.

“You thought you’d killed me? Not quite. You staked me a little too far to the right,” she says and points to the center of her abundant cleavage. As her eyes pore over me in appraisal, she smirks in judgment before saying, in a tiny, cloying voice, “My Nicky ran too fast to notice he had not gotten the job done. Lucky for me.”

“I-I…” he stutters then stops, blinking in shock.

“Oh, my love, do not worry, I forgive you. I was trying to bite you at the time… So tell me, who is this here?” she asks, referring to me. He says nothing, still in shock.

“I’m Dorothy,” I tell her. What do I make of this situation? Do I kill her? Will he hate me for it? Should I let him do it? Should I let her go?

“Do-ro-thy? What an odd name. How fitting for such an odd-looking girl. You are swarthy and large for a Munchkin, aren’t you?”

“I’m not a Munchkin, and if you call me swarthy again you’ll regret it.”

“How curious when Nicky likes fair-skinned Munchkin girls, don’t you, Nicky? You must be just another hole for him to park his cock,” she says and I huff out a laugh.

Wow, she’s rude, and that baby voice of hers makes me want to vomit. He stands, taking his axes from his chest, ready to attack or defend, I’m not sure which, and she giggles.

“Nicky, don’t you miss me? We could still get married,” she says, trying to entice him with her pouty baby voice.

“No, I’d rather not,” he says, eyes narrowed.

“Oh, now, I doubt Do-ro-thy, is much compared to me. I always knew how to please you better than any other. If you let me turn you, we could be together forever like you always hoped for. We could share her. The first feed is always the best. She may be homely, but she smells sweet. I’ll give her that,” she says with a slow, seductive walk toward him. Axes drawn, he stands his ground, waiting for her.

“I’m not interested,” he says, watching her every movement as she makes a slow approach.

“You love me,” she teases, batting her evil eyes.

“I don’t, and you never loved me.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You could have been with me. I was not enough for you. You wanted riches, a larger home, a lavish life I could not provide, remember?”

“I was only trying to motivate you. You know I had many suitors. Most were far richer than you, but you were who I chose to share my bed,” she purrs, moving toward him, closer and closer. He’s not moving. I don’t know if it should worry me. What if he wants to turn for her, because he misses her, still loves her? Should I let him? If he does, should I let them live? In that case, should I run, or should I worry she just wants to feed on him? I have no idea what to do.

“I was not the only one to share your bed. Your mistress let me know that,” he says.

“You were my favorite though. And none of that matters now. I have all I could ever need. I live in a beautiful home now. You could live in it with me.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I fed on the owners and kept it for myself. It’s close to here.”

A rustling comes from the direction she came, and I look over hoping it’s Ardie but it isn’t—it’s a man. A very attractive man who is also very pale, wearing fancy, ruffled clothes like hers. I think he’s with her. He’s not a Munchkin like she is. He’s tall, bronze haired, fiery eyed, and has fangs.

“Fyter?” Nick says upon seeing him and then looks to her with a narrowed eye and a smirk.

“Cousin,” he seethes.

“This is Do-ro-thy,” she says, eyeing me.

“You must share her with me,” Fyter says, sniffing the air in my direction. “She’s a sweet one.”

I laugh, shaking my head.

“I amuse you, sweet girl?” he asks, intrigued by me.

“No, not even close. I’m laughing because you appall me. Both of you,” I say, bored by their threats. I shouldn’t be. It must be the boots.

“Confident, I see,” he says. “Where did you find such a feisty new conquest, Nick? However much I liked the taste of your last three in particular, none of them smelled as good as this one here. Sweet and spicy,” the guy says and Nick’s eyes narrow.

“What?” Nick seethes.

“Oh, did you not know that she makes it a point to feed on all your conquests?” Fyter says, his amused eyes glinting, enjoying Nick’s anger, and it makes me want to smash his face in. “There was the kitchenmaid, and the blacksmith’s daughter, and the milkmaid, and the tavern wench, and the other tavern wench, and the other tavern wench. It seems you like tavern wenches. Oh, and there was the laundress, the many farmer’s daughters, that soldier’s wife, the baker’s wife. We took their husbands too, and their children, but none of them have smelled as sweet as this one. Cousin, is your delectable little leman another tavern wench?” he asks Nick who looks so angry he might pop. “Sweet girl, are you a tavern wench?” he asks me, and I don’t answer.

“He is speaking to you, trollop,” Nimmie says and sneers.

“Yeah, I know. I heard him.”

“So you answer. Are you a tavern wench too?”

“No, I’m not. What are you? Aside from a bloodsucker who talks like a damn baby? Why talk and flirt like a small child? Is it because it worked when you were three, so you never stopped? Because it’s gross. Grow up already.”

“Nicky always loved my voice. He loved everything about me.”

“His name is Nick, and I doubt that. Stop trying to entice him by pouting and talking like a toddler, you freak. It’s a turn off.”

“I have no problem enticing anyone I please, Do-ro-thy.”

“I’m sure your successes in that area were despite your irritating baby voice. The only thing anyone ever liked about you was your looks. But that’s just my guess. Am I right, Nick?”

“Yes,” Nick says.

“There it is then.” I say with a shrug, and she is looking at me like she wants to pummel me. Any second now she will launch herself at me. Then when I kill her, it will be self-defense. Nick couldn’t hold that against me, right?

“I like your baby voice,” Fyter purrs, then throws a smug look to Nick. There seems to be a rivalry between them, or perhaps there was once.

“The two of you are perfect for each other—superficial and soulless, concerned with all the wrong things.”

“What are you concerned with, sweet one?” he asks as he prowls toward me, and so does she, as though they plan to kill me together. He looks to her, and she gives him a small nod before he turns his glinting eyes back on me. They seem to have developed some system of killing people, like they’re a tag team.

“Right now? Nick. I don’t want him to hate me when I kill this shrew of an ex of his and I don’t want him to have to do it himself, so there’s a conundrum there. And then there’s you. If I kill you, it might upset him because I am assuming he would want to do it himself. It would be so easy to just kill you both right now but I am worried about how he’d take it,” I say and they both stop their menacing approach to laugh at me. “I figured you would want an honest answer.”

“You? Oh, I will enjoy feeding off of you!” Nimmie says, and I roll my eyes. I couldn’t help it.

“Don’t worry about me, Dorothy. Kill them both if you like, but if you want me to take one or both of them myself, I am happy to,” Nick says.

“Oh, Nick, do not be angry with me. Don’t you miss me?” Nimmie coos.

“No. I haven’t at all. That is the thing. I thought I loved you, that I had lost my heart when you turned because killing you, or thinking I had, was easy for me. It should have been hard. I thought we were to marry. I should have cared. But I didn’t, and I haven’t missed you for one second.”

“Do not lie for her sake. I know you loved me,” she says.

“I thought I did, but I realize I didn’t. Maybe I never had a heart to begin with. Maybe it was never there for you to destroy.”

“Or maybe it’s just that she’s pretty and nothing more,” I say.

“Quiet yourself,” she snaps, and I roll my eyes again as I shake my head at her cockiness.

“Dorothy is right,” Nick says. “You were shallow before you lost your soul, what you had of one that is. I feel sorry for you for having lost the little you had, but you are not too different from what I see. Over the years, I have had some distance, and I see you would have never married me, and I would have been fine without you. Now I know I never loved you. I never did.”

“You lie.”

“I did lie to you. I told you I loved you because I wanted to sleep with you. Even with the women I was with, who you fed on, every one of them had more depth and gave me more pleasure than you ever did. I did not love you. But I also did not love them. I have never loved before. I see that now.”

“You are heartless, like they all say of you,” she says, fuming.

“I am. For years, I blamed you for it, but I realize now it is just what I am. Perhaps that will change when I get to Emerald City,” Nick says and they both laugh.

“You will never get there. You will die, today, both of you,” Fyter says.

“Do you have any last words?” I ask, and they laugh more while Nick readies his axes, one in each hand, getting into a fighting stance. I rise to my feet.

“Perhaps I will turn you instead, if I can resist draining your sweet blood. I like you. You’re feisty,” Fyter says, his eyes gleaming with a sexual mischief that gives me the willies. I shudder at the thought of hooking up with him.

“No,” Nimmie demands.

“Jealous?” I taunt. I couldn’t resist. She’s so irritating. Her eyes narrow and I can’t help but laugh at her. She hisses at me, ready to attack, her vampire fangs on display.

As she lunges for me, my boots cover me in silver armor head to toe, only my face revealed, sharp stakes shooting from my fists and feet. Fyter gasps a squeal at the sight of me and she stops dead in her tracks, shaken, her eyes widening as I attack her right back.

I kick high, slicing her throat, following with another kick to her temple, knocking her head right off her body as I spin through the air. When I turn to Fyter—who looks on shocked and terrified, his jaw dropped—a high-pitched scream escapes him before he bolts into the woods he came from.

Nick throws his axe at him, hitting him in the center of his back, sending him face first into the ground. I rush over and with a leap into the air I crash into the ground beside him, the stake in my fist punching straight through his back into his heart. He’s done. They both are.

As I stand, pulling Nick’s axe from Fyter’s spine with a crunch, my suit of silver armor shrinks back into my boots.

When I turn to Nick, who sits back down on the log we were on, I hand his axe to him and say, “Nice throw.”

“Thanks,” he says, unfeeling as ever.

“It’s okay if that was hard for you, you know.”

“It wasn’t. That’s the problem. Perhaps we were good for each other. She may have been with other men, but I was also with other women,” he admits.

“Sounds like a bad relationship,” I say as I sit beside him.

“It was.”

“Did you have other relationships before her?”

“No. She was my first.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” I say as he stares into the fire.

“Or maybe I am heartless.”

“Maybe,” I say with a shrug, “But I doubt it. You just got started out wrong. At least I hope that’s it. For your sake.”

“As do I.”

“Things will get better, Nick. I believe that for you. When you get to the City of Emeralds, you’ll see. If you give it time, you’ll see.”

“There is a possibility the Wizard may not let me stay. Not just anyone can live there. If they could, everyone would have gone already.”

“Yeah, well, I have these boots. I’ll make him let you stay,” I tease.

“He is even more powerful. Those boots will not intimidate him.”

“Maybe he can help me get them off and I can trade them for passage home for me and so the three of you can stay there. I bet he’ll want them.”

“If he has use for them. But keep them if you can. Although getting them off seems imperative.”

“It’d be nice.”

“Thank you, Dorothy. You are a true friend.”

As he speaks, the earnest look in his eyes differs from the looks he’s given me so far. That may be the sincerest thing he’s said to me. When I smile at him, he smiles back and the energy between us shifts to one of friendship. There is no undertone of lust anymore. Anything sexual between us has left his eyes. Maybe he’s being honest with me now. Maybe somehow I’ve earned his friendship and treating me as a warm female body he can use for pleasure no longer interests him. Or maybe it’s because the dead bodies of his ex-fiancé and his cousin lie only a few feet away.

“The bodies—” I say and he cuts me off.

“Is there, by chance, holy water in your bag from Gayelette?”

“Yeah,” I say and rise, go over to the bag, and open it up, taking out the large bottle of holy water and handing it to him.

The holy water is curious considering General Boq had never heard of hell. If they don’t know what hell is, then I’d assume they don’t have the same religions. Holy water is a Catholic thing, isn’t it?

“If you guys haven’t heard of hell here, I assume you don’t have Christianity, so how do you have holy water?”

“I am not sure what you are talking about, but I know holy water is rare. It comes from another realm.”

“My realm.”

“Perhaps,” he says, stands, and walks over to Nimmie’s body.

Her shocked head lies beside it. He appears unfazed as he opens the bottle. With a small tilt of the jug he drops a tiny amount of the holy water onto the head, then the body, and she fizzles away in an instant. He walks over to Fyter, drops more onto him, and the same thing happens. Right then, a light breeze comes by and the ash lifts into the air, fluttering away in the wind. Nick walks back over and hands me the bottle. I cap it before putting it back in my bag. When we sit back down, this time he sits across from me instead of at my side.

For a long while, we sit in silence, staring at the fire, and when I look away from the flames and watch him, he looks pensive, deep in thought. What just happened affected him even if he won’t admit it. Or maybe he’s being honest when he says he feels nothing. Maybe that is what he is ruminating on.

There is so much I want to say, like how walling up his heart, forcing himself to not feel for the sake of survival, doesn’t make him heartless. He may think he is cold, but I don’t believe he is. He’s just screwed up. Who wouldn’t be living the life he has?

Survival is the top priority for most of the people in this realm, and I imagine the ones who don’t think of survival first end up as fodder or monsters. While he chose to be brave and fight a relentless battle, so many others chose to become a shifter or a zombie. To preserve his humanity, he sacrificed his heart. Now he’s taking this journey because he wants his heart back. That’s admirable, and I wish I could tell him, but it’s not the right time. After watching his fiancé die a second time, I’m sure of it. So I stay quiet and give him the time he needs to think.

An hour passes before Ardie, the Werelion, and Toto return with a dead deer. Nick gets up and they take it away from the fire to break it down for roasting, skinning it, and gutting it, then cutting it up. It grosses me out to think of, but that is what it is to eat meat. It’s something I should be okay with considering I eat it, and I live on a farm. Uncle Henry did all that. He made me take part once, and I hated it. It didn’t stop me eating meat though, but the thought of it still makes me sick.

Ardie takes the head and eats its brains while Nick roasts it in pieces, giving the Werelion the stuff we won’t eat, and he eats it raw. I’m not a huge fan of venison, but it’s better than nothing. Ardie was kind enough to bring back nuts and berries for me he found in a tree. I assume a squirrel gathered it, and I feel bad taking a squirrel’s food, but I take it anyway.

After dinner we all camp out, sleeping under the stars. Ardie stays up and keeps watch through the night, standing far away from the fire. As I try to drift off to sleep with Toto cuddling up to me, I stare at the night sky lit up by more stars than I have ever seen.

Atmospheric dust billows in polychromed glitter above me, the vibrant, shimmering haze decorating the blue-blackness of space, and its luminous, variegated hues remind me of the one wish I made on countless stars since my parents died—I wanted to live in a world of colors, where I could travel to bright and exotic places, where I could see and do magical things. Well, here I am in the most exotic of places, in a world of vivid radiance, with magic all around me. How was I to know the countless times I made that wish I should have specified that those places be free of evil monsters? Whatever force there is out there in charge of granting wishes seems to have a wicked sense of humor, or at least a vindictive streak. You want to travel to colorful, exotic places? Well, here you go—wish granted. Welcome to the exotic and colorful land of hellish monsters who want to suck your blood, eat your brains, or just eat you altogether. Oh, you didn’t mean this kind of place? Guess you should have been clearer. Suck it, Dorothy.

From this distance, the sky looks so clear it’s as though my eyes are functioning like a high-powered telescope, the kind in fancy observatories you visit on class field trips, and I wonder if it’s the boots enhancing my vision or if it’s just different here. Maybe it’s even a different planet altogether—I still haven’t ruled out that possibility. Even with the glow of the fire in the pitch-black forest, the stars shine brighter than I have ever seen stars shine. How is it possible to see the sky in such vivid detail with the naked eye?

My boots cover me in their silver armor at my thought, showing me the answer to my question. Now the sky is even more vivid, even more detailed than before, and I know it’s the boots that make things clearer. Too bad my vision is the only thing that’s clear. Since these boots showed up on my feet, I’ve felt numb in so many ways. It’s as though they’ve hardened me to death, to violence, to fear. Although with feelings of attraction and love, I’m a confused mess. But part of me wonders if the boots are the only thing giving me any resolve with Nick. Perhaps if I didn’t have them, I’d have slept with him already. Not that I have ever jumped into bed with a guy I just met, but he is that tempting.

I’ve never been so drawn to anyone. Desire struck me the first moment I saw his face, even with the rage in his enrapturing green eyes as he struggled under me. Ineffable moments hang between us that percolate and overwhelm me to the point of nausea. He says to just let it be a fling, but it is already more than that for me and it’s only been two days. Maybe it’s a chemical reaction, because even though it feels like I know him, I don’t. He says he feels nothing but sexual attraction toward me. He says it’s not personal but that he’s heartless and takes comfort where he can get it. But my heart doesn’t seem to care about any of that.

My desire for him only compounds and spurs stronger emotions with every passing moment despite knowing we won’t have a future. The sentiments he evokes come from not only how good-looking he is but also because of who I see behind all the literal and figurative armor he wears. I know it could be me filling in the blanks with what I want him to be, but I’m sure he’s so much more than a man hardened by the pain of his past, so much more than the walls he builds around his heart. He pretends he’s hollow, but that’s nowhere near true. Behind his gaze, it’s as though there’s a macrocosm of rich complexity as dark and colorful as the sky I’m gazing at now. These stars remind me of him—mysterious, dazzling, and still radiant even when submerged in darkness. Yes, he lied, tricked me, and he says he’s heartless, but it’s because of what he’s been through and what his life is like.

My heart aches for him. Tragedy has marred his life. He killed his own dad and his girlfriend who he was planning to marry. For years, he has lived alone in a small house with no furniture, sleeping on a pile of leaves. He’s alone, and it makes my heart break for him. It makes me want to heal him, to help him, comfort him, take the broken pieces of his heart and put them back together. I want to gather all the shattered parts, the pain and strength and bravery, everything he has ever been through, and form a brand-new heart for him—a beautiful mosaic of intricate light-filled love. But I cannot forget I will leave him behind to return to my realm, and I don’t want to add to his pain. He already has so much of it.

Even though he tells me he doesn’t have feelings for me, that there would be no point to getting involved that way (and he’d be right), I can’t deny I already have strong feelings for him. I could continue to deny it to myself but what would be the point of that? Maybe it’s the boots that are making things so clear because I’m not sure I could have admitted any of that to myself before. But my logical brain also knows I don’t know the guy. What I know of him is what I’ve seen and what he tells me, and he’s told me not to think there’s more than the physical between us. But then he’ll look at me, his penetrating stare gripping my heart. When that happens, I fill in the blanks with a narrative of my own, and I must remind myself it may be only my imagination. My thoughts about him, about who he is beneath his words, could be what I wish he were and not what he is. But even if it is who he is deep down, even if I’m right about it all, I’m not the one he wants. His words are clear—he doesn’t want me for more than a fling, and I shouldn’t want him for more than that either.

Tonight, I was ready to let go of my reservations and start an affair with him, but then in place of my resolve, fate had its word and brought back the ghosts that have haunted him for who knows how long. Years ago, losing Nimmie made him heartless. Tonight, when he lost her for a second time, he stopped pretending with me and the walls around his heart I was sure were crumbling erected all over again. I understand why—what he went through tonight was awful. It may not last, but something in me is telling me his advances toward me will cease from here on out. Part of me is grateful, but a sense of loss lingers in my chest despite knowing he was never mine to lose.

Two falling stars shoot across the sky in an arch and I gasp. I saw one before, once. When I did, I wished the wish I always wish. Every birthday, every dandelion, every first star I see at night, every time there’s a wish to make I wish for the same thing, and now I know I should have been more specific. This time I get two wishes. The first is that Toto and I make it home safe and in one piece, and the second is for true love, a love of my life kind of love that is soul-deep, so passionate, and reciprocal—the kind of love that will last forever for us both. Hope washes over me, and I relax enough for my mind to quiet. After too many hours filled with too many thoughts, a soft serenity perfuses my mind, and I drift off to sleep.

10

The Journey to the Vampire Free Zone

A deep, dark ravine divides the brick road, as though the wrathful land cracked in two, severing any prospect of traveling beyond this macabre forest. I assess the canyon before us and with one look I know it’s too steep to climb down. Even with my enhanced vision, it’s too wide to see where it ends. Sharp jagged rocks jut straight up from the bottom like giant knives, making it even more impossible to cross.

After everything it’s taken to get here, it looks as though our journey has ended. I’ll never get home. These boots will remain on my feet for the rest of my life, and that may not be long with the scores of predatory monsters at every turn. I’ve been lucky so far, but if I sleep too hard one night that could be it for me.

This morning when we woke up with the sunrise and got started on our way, I never expected after only an hour of walking we would reach a crack in the road this large with no bridge to cross.

“What now?” I ask, desperate not to give up but at a loss for how to fix this.

“I do not know,” says Nick before he presses his lips into a grim line.

“Until we decipher how to cross this gorge, we must stop where we are,” Ardie says with a grumble.

The Werelion appraises the ditch before us and says, “I could jump over it.”

“Could you jump over with us on your back?” Nick asks.

“I can try,” Werelion says with a shaky breath, mustering up the small amount of courage he has.

“I will go first,” declares Ardie, “for if you found that you could not make it over, Dorothy or Nick would die, but if I am on your back, it will not matter so much, for the fall cannot kill me.”

“What about me?” the Werelion yelps, growing more fearful, but then he takes a deep calming breath and continues, “but I suppose there is nothing to do but try. We will make the attempt.”

Nowhere near as worried as I am, Ardie sits upon the Werelion’s back before the gigantic shifter walks to the edge of the gulf and crouches down.

“Perhaps you should run and jump,” Nick suggests, as worried as I am. Werelion only looks over his shoulder with narrowed eyes, making me giggle. The seething look on his sweet, furry face verges on farcical.

“That isn’t the way we Werelions do these things,” Werelion says with a haughty humph.

“Pardon me,” Nick says, holding back laughter.

Werelion faces forward with Ardie on his back hanging onto his mane, and with a look of determination he springs up, shooting through the air. In an instant, he lands on the other side. When his feet touch the ground, I cheer for them, so happy and relieved they made it. Nick’s eyes widen at my acclamation. A glimpse of embarrassment creeps in, but whatever, I’m thrilled right now—I’m not stuck here.

Once Ardie gets off his back, Werelion springs back over the ditch and lands beside us.

“You go next, Dorothy,” Nick says.

“Want to make sure he can do it again?” I tease with a tart smile.

“I want to be sure he has enough strength to get you and Toto across,” Nick says with an indignant arch of a single brow.

A twinge of guilt slinks in for my remark because he’s right—it took a lot of power to get across and back. A third time may be too much for the Werelion.

“Maybe we should wait awhile and let him rest before each of us goes,” I say, now even more concerned, but Nick offers a soft smile as he lays a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“There is a long way to travel still. Daylight hours are the safest time to do that. We do not have the luxury of waiting. Now get on.”

Just in case something happens, I hug him, despising the thought of him falling into the gorge. My chest constricts in anxiety as I hold him tight, so scared.

“I will be okay. Be sure you will be too and call up your armor,” he says with kind eyes that search mine for a brief moment before he steps away from our hug.

My armor covers all of me but my face in a flash, and with my bag of weapons over my shoulder, I scoop Toto up and climb onto the Werelion’s back using my free hand to grab onto his mane. Before I realize what is happening, I am flying, hanging on for dear life. In the next moment, I’m safe on the other side.

The Werelion goes back a third time to get Nick and I worry with Nick’s armor and size, and all that muscle, he will be too heavy. Maybe Toto and I should have gone last. Even with Toto and the bag of weapons, we are far lighter than Nick, and Werelion already seems tired out.

Before I can insist he rest until he regains his full strength, Nick climbs onto Werelion’s back. In a blink, Werelion leaps up high and long across the ravine, and when they land, his hind legs slip at the edge. I gasp a scream, but Werelion bursts forward fast and regains his footing. The panicked breath I was holding escapes as Nick jumps off his back, shaken by their near slip, but he covers well.

Six giant leaps have tired Werelion out, so we sit down for a few moments to give him a chance to catch his breath. As I look around at the road before us, I notice the forest is even thicker on this side, and even more onerous. Dead and undead thick trees and bushes with long blackened vines and sharp branches that curl and crack extend across the road ahead in sharp spear-like points, as though the infected plants are looking for victims the only way they know how. I’ll have to carry Toto until we pass through the deathly terrain.

Once the Werelion has caught his breath, we start along the blood-spattered road of yellow brick, and I can’t help the dark emotions that overcome me. Will we ever come to the end of these nightmarish, undead woods and reach the bright sunshine again?

Strange noises in the depths of the forest echo in my ears, chilling my bones, and I wonder if it’s my suit of armor enhancing my hearing or if they can hear it too.

“Do you hear that?”

They all nod, staying quiet so we don’t attract attention.

“Is it vampires?” I whisper, a sense of foreboding coming over me I have not experienced since I put on these boots. Whatever or whoever it is, it even scares my armor.

“It is in this part of the country that the Kalidahs live,” the Werelion whispers. “It’s the reason we have not come across any vampires.”

“What are the Kalidahs?” I ask, afraid to hear his answer.

“Monstrous beasts,” Nick whispers.

“Oh, Kalidahs,” Werelion whimpers. “I am terrified of Kalidahs.”

“Everyone is,” Ardie adds in a hushed voice.

“What are they?” I ask.

“You hear many things, but no one I know has faced a Kalidah,” Nick murmurs.

“Then how do you know they are real?”

“They’re real,” Nick assures me, his voice almost inaudible.

“Stay quiet,” Ardie breathes, mouthing the words, and I take his advice and ask no more questions, even though I have so many.

When we round a bend, it’s as though we’ve walked into winter. Ice and snow dust the trees and ground at first, but as we walk on, the wintery weather proliferates until we are trudging through deep snow. Ice glazes the branches of the trees and drips off the tips in sharp, needlelike points. As we make our way through the snowy forest, the freezing rain comes, and we find ourselves in the middle of an ice storm.

Werelion carries Toto as we forge ahead into the pelting sheets of freezing rain and hail, using his large arms and thick fur to keep him warm enough to survive the beating from the icy torrent.

As fast as the storm comes, it tapers away, and the further into the forest we go, the less unbearable the terrain becomes. The deep snow lightens to three inches instead of three feet, but the temperature drops to a level of cold I have never known before, and I worry about how we will survive the night in these arctic conditions.

We press on through the heavy frost and soon find ourselves at another gulf across the road. This one is so broad and so deep that the Werelion knows at once he cannot leap across it. We stand and consider what we should do, and after serious thought Ardie speaks up.

“That undead tree, at the edge of the ditch there,” Ardie says and points.

A short distance away stands a towering tree with a thick trunk the color of midnight, brushed with a mossy lilac sheen. I would think it was beautiful, but I can sense its ominous threat from here. A myriad of questions barrel through my mind, like what does an undead tree eat? Does it still crave brains?

Ardie continues, breaking my digressing train of thought. “Nick can chop it down so it will fall to the other side. Then we can walk across, but if we do and the wood pricks your paws, Werelion, you will die,” Ardie warns him. “If we could could find a living tree tall enough along the riverbank we could try that, but it looks as though this tree is the only one in sight that can reach the other side.”

“Wood cannot penetrate my calloused paws,” says the Werelion with a scoffing snort.

“Even a splinter will do the trick if it somehow reaches your bloodstream.”

“Oh,” Werelion says and shivers, growing fearful.

“I could fashion coverings for your feet thick enough to prevent splintering,” Ardie says. “My jacket will do. If we can cut it in half, we can tie them around your back paws. The fabric is thick enough to prevent splinters, but there is only enough fabric for two, so you must walk upright.”

“I can do that and still keep my balance. That is brilliant. One would almost suspect you had an abundance of brains in your head instead of your stomach.”

“Yes, brilliant. It is clear he is a genius,” Nick says, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“You have any better ideas?” Ardie challenges.

“No, tying a cloth around his feet is far more ingenious a thought than I could ever have,” Nick says as he pulls an axe off his chest.

“We have no other materials to work with, do we?” Ardie says, not letting the insult go.

“If it were me, I would seek the living plant-life out, gather cattail leaves, bark, things of that nature, then weave them into thick soles, use some deer hide to wrap them with, and fasten them to his feet, but I’m not a genius as Ardie is. A torn jacket is much safer.”

“All right, Nick, we get your point. You can stop now,” I say.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence.

“You could just make your suggestion. You need not be a dick about it.”

“What is a dick?” the Werelion asks.

“A penis,” Nick tells him.

“Oh, yes. You were being a dick,” Werelion says, and Ardie laughs.

“Fine. Don’t expect jacket cloth to prevent a jagged, undead tree from infecting you. Fashion shoes from the living plants as I described. You will be much safer,” he says and turns to me. “Happy?”

“That was better,” I say.

Nick sets to work at once chopping into the undead tree, and when he does, a crackling, aubergine sap oozes from it. The sight of its sputtering secretions along with the faint hissing sound that prickles my ears is bloodcurdling. At the sight of purplish pus-like guck, Nick closes the helmet on his armor, shielding his face, and continues chopping with speed, force, and precision.

“Be careful, Nick,” Ardie says and Nick nods to him before hacking away at the trunk again.

Ardie and Werelion go to find the living trees in this undead copse to get materials to make shoes. Toto barks, wanting to go, but I hold him to my chest, worried about him walking around here. With my free hand, I clear a space on the ground of snow and bits of undead wood and sit with him in my arms, scratching behind his ears while feeding him little bits of deer meat to keep him happy.

Nick’s relentless chopping rings out and echoes in the canyon below. We are calling too much attention to ourselves, but what choice do we have?

“What do undead trees eat?” I call to Nick, hoping he can hear me over the echoing strikes.

“Brains,” he grunts out as he hacks at the trunk.

“How?”

“They skewer the living with their offshoots and absorb it through their roots. They also consume the roots of living trees, infecting them and killing them. This one is newly undead.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s not motile yet.”

“Motile, as in moving around?”

“Yes,” he says with a grunt as he reels back and strikes. “When they are motile, they can reach and kill their prey with their offshoots and then pulverize them into the ground where their roots consume them. If we did not chop it down, it could grab us soon enough. A somewhat recent influx of zombiism has blighted these woods. We best get across to the other side as soon as possible.”

With that, he chops harder and faster, without letting up until the task is complete.

Ardie and Werelion return with heavy thick leaves and small vines that are vivid deep green and not undead. I offer to make them and do a decent job keeping the weave tight. When I make four soles large enough for his paws, I set to tying them off with strips of deer hide and then I cover them in more hide, threading long strips in and out in a thick stitch using a needle I conjure from my armor. At the mere thought, it appeared from my fingertip. Nick’s suggestion was a good one, and I am impressed with the thick-soled booties I make, thanks to the magical help my boots provide.

By the time I finish making the shoes, Ardie sets out to hunt for a snack, and I shiver as another subzero cold-front rolls in.

“It’s colder than a vampire’s cooter out here,” I say. Nick huffs out a surprised laugh, steam billowing from his mouth as he does.

“What is a cooter?” Werelion asks.

“Female genitalia,” Nick explains with an amused smirk, and Werelion gasps in shock.

“Dorothy!” Werelion says, stunned I would say such a thing.

“Yes?” I say as if I have no clue why my words shock him.

“How do you know the temperature of a vampire’s… cooter?”

“Call it an educated guess,” I say with a giggle, and he smiles back in his sweet way as he puts on the booties I made. They appear to fit, which is a relief. When he ties the laces, he stands on all fours.

“Oh, Dorothy, these are wonderful,” Werelion says, overjoyed, modeling them as he struts back and forth before me.

“I’m glad you like them.”

Nick grunts as he strikes the undead tree trunk again. By now, he has chopped almost all the way through.

It occurs to me how lucky it is we haven’t heard any strange and foreboding animal noises for some time. I guess kalidahs don’t like the cold. Ardie returns and sits beside me with a sigh.

“Catch anything?”

“Nothing. This frozen forest is barren. All the animals must have migrated to a warmer country.”

With one final chop that echoes through the great canyon below us, Nick hacks into the tree for a final time leaving nothing but the bark uncut before he lowers his axe and steps back.

“Werelion,” Nick says, his breathing heavy.

“Yes?”

“Push this tree over.”

In his new booties, Werelion struts over and presses his front paws against the blackened, undead tree with all his might. After a loud grunting roar, the tree cracks, tips, and falls with a crash across the ditch, landing with its top branches and blue-black leaves on the other side.

As we approach the undead tree, a sharp growl makes us all look back and to our horror we see at least ten massive beasts running toward us, each one the size of an eighteen-wheeler truck. They look like a cross between dragons, tigers, and bears. Or dinosaurs and those weird deep-sea fish that live near volcanoes with long, curved fangs. Their eyes even have a purplish phosphorescence, emitting a distinct violaceous glow.

“Kalidahs,” cries the Werelion, trembling.

“No wonder there were no animals in this forest,” Ardie says.

“What do we do?”

“Quick,” Ardie says, “let us cross over.”

With Toto into my arms and Ardie carrying the bag of weapons, we all head over to the tree as they stalk toward us, closing in.

“Climb up,” Ardie says, now standing atop the trunk.

“We won’t make it. I will lead them away,” Nick says and runs to the right. Before I think better of it, I hand Toto to Ardie and speed after him, the Kalidahs taking the bait and galloping after us.

“Dorothy, no,” Ardie calls as I hurry away.

“How do we kill these things?” I ask Nick, and he looks over, noticing I am with him.

“What are you doing?” he says, anger plain in his voice as he pumps his arms and legs.

“Playing hero with you. So, how do we kill them?”

“I don’t know. No one ever has.”

“What?” I ask, fear rooting itself deep in my gut.

I turn my head and see how close they’ve gotten. In the distance, Ardie and Werelion cross the trunk. Relief washes over me, knowing Toto will survive, even if I don’t. In less than a minute they will be on us, and my suit stops me in my tracks, smarter than I am, knowing outrunning them with Nick is impossible. If I was alone, maybe, but he couldn’t do it. I turn to face them, and Nick stops up ahead.

“What are you doing?”

“Go back to the tree and get across. If I can get away, I’ll meet you,” I call to him as large curved swords grow from my fists.

The Kalidahs slow and encircle me, as if they have been stalking me, just as Nick said. Their eyes glow violet as they narrow on me, and I can sense their wicked joy at having me surrounded.

“Hey!” Nick shouts to get their attention but they ignore him. It seems they only want me, or maybe they want the boots, or the witch who once wore them.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I guarantee I’m not her.”

The largest one, who seems to be their leader, steps forward and growls, saliva dripping off his teeth and blackened purple tongue. There’s a smile in his eyes, and it pisses me off.

“Wow, that’s some breath you got there. Cheese Louise, it’s like hot garbage,” I say and wave my hand in front of my face.

“They are undead,” Nick warns.

“Great, I left my flamethrower with Ardie.”

Nick takes off running back the way we came, no goodbye, no nothing.

“Nice knowing you,” I call after him then redirect my attention to my new undead friends. “All right, vermin. Let’s do this, shall we?”

The leader hisses a growl, its violet eyes glowing, its blackened tongue flicking out at me, and I spin and slice it off. Its fiery eyes widen with what I’m sure is astonishment, and its growl booms and gurgles as the black sludge pours from its mouth sloshing out onto the ground before me. The others react and all go for me at once.

Time slows as I attack, slicing off jaws and muzzles, legs, slitting throats. I mount one and take out its eye before I leap off its head to another’s back and slice across its neck in a windmill, beheading it. Another comes charging into the headless Kalidah’s body and I go flying before I crash into what I’m sure is an undead tree. By the time I hit the ground they are already on me, hovering, snarling. Despite my magical armor taking the brunt of the hit, I’m still hurting, and it’s clear this is the end.

As soon as I rise to my feet, one of them clamps onto me with its jaws, the entire upper half of my body to my waist enveloped by its undead mouth. The armor is strong enough that its teeth don’t penetrate though. While my armor covers my face, encasing every part of me in its magic, I struggle, kicking my legs that are still outside of its mouth. I hit nothing but air.

As it swallows me whole I stab the hinge of its jaw with all my strength and rip my arm back. The roar from inside its mouth vibrates, sending a rattling buzz through my armor that echoes in my ears. I use my other arm to do the same on the other side, severing its lower jaw so it falls open, gushing its black blood like a river. I fall to the ground surrounded by its sludge. When I pop up, I expect to slip around in it, but my boots grip the ground, helping me keep my balance.

Again, I attack. The sword coming from my fists lengthen and serrate as I spin and strike, severing its unhinged head. The kalidahs I only injured are attacking again after healing so fast. They close in on me, snapping their dinosaur jaws with force—they’re pissed. The delight in attacking me is over. Now they’re just vicious and infuriated. The only way I will break free from them encircling me is if I attack and don’t let up, not for a second, so I can get away. Then I must run faster than I have ever run.

My suit of armor goes into action, taking over my body. I behead two in one sweeping motion and as I spiral, one snaps onto my arm with a forceful chomp, jarring my entire body. The power of its jaws reverberates through me, making my teeth chatter, but again, its sharp teeth do not cut through my armor. Up through the roof of its mouth, I thrust my arm with a sword that extends from my fist and watch as the blade lengthens piercing through its gleaming violet eye. With a forceful yank, I pull my arm back toward me, ripping its head in two from its eye through its snout, its black goo fizzing and bubbling forth, blanketing me. So gross. Even though all I want to do is let out a squeal and shudder and shake away all the yuckiness and gore, my attack is unceasing.

I continue to fight these gnarling monsters who keep healing in gushing displays of revolting vile, and I know beheading is the only way I’ll get enough time to elude them and catch up to the rest of my little crew. Escape is my only hope to make it out of this cursed realm.

One raises its clawed paw and strikes me so hard I fly into another who bats me with its snout to the next who does the same. They smack me around as a group with their snouts and giant paws, battering me between them like this is some sick game of kick the can. I don’t know if it’s me or the boots but indignant rage clamors through me and an invisible force bursts forth, knocking them all on their scaly butts.

“Do I look like a toy to you maggots?” I seethe, speaking without knowing what I’m saying. I’ve never been one to speak before I think, making me almost certain my boots are doing the talking as I continue. “Bow to your master, you despicable beasts. I own you,” I growl as they scramble to their feet. “You are specks on my boots, and I will annihilate every one of you pathetic animals.”

My suit goes into action, and not only am I slicing them up, but I’m kicking and punching them with bone crushing blows and blasts of what I’m sure is magic. Their faces cave in at contact, and their bones break and crumble. Fury and indignation take me over, ruling my emotions, my movements, propelling me forward, growing with each strike. Every time they dare rise, I grow angrier and beat them even harder until they cower and stay down. One after the other, I behead them at lightning speed.

“Dorothy!” I hear when I’m halfway through the beheadings, and I think it’s Nick.

“What?” I call out as I behead another. Five more to go.

“Run!” he shouts.

When I turn my head, I see he’s returning with the flamethrower, aiming it right at us as he charges forward. I leap over the twitching bodies of the kalidahs I already beheaded and hurry toward him. The five remaining kalidahs rise from their cowering positions and give chase. Nick releases the flame thrower onto the kalidahs and the undead forest around us.

Once there is a solid wall of flame between us and them, we take off running back toward our makeshift bridge. Screeching wails ring out, echoing through the forest and the canyon below, the unnerving shrieks resounding for what I’m sure is miles.

Just as it did before, the fire spreads fast in every direction, and when I look back over my shoulder, I see the five kalidahs I didn’t kill burst through the wall of flames that speed toward us. Three of them fall, engulfed by the flames. Two of them make it through though, their undead skin bubbling and blistered by the fire, but they are not aflame like the others and they dash toward us.

“Hurry,” I say to Nick who runs hard, the flamethrower in one of his hands that pumps with force as we run our butts off. We make it to the undead tree and I hoist him up then get on behind him.

“Go before me,” he says, surprised I tossed him up there the way I did.

“Now you want to be chivalrous? Just go,” I command, and he steps forward.

When we start across this makeshift bridge, my boots grip the curved, uneven surface, allowing me to move with confidence.

Once we get about halfway across, the two Kalidahs make it to the trunk and rush forward. Nick hurries across the jagged surface and trips, falling over the edge. He slides off the side but catches an offshoot and hangs from it. I hurry forward and kneel, grabbing his arm and thanks to the strength my armor gives me, I pull him up. He grips the trunk tight before he stands and moves forward with more caution than before. This time, I follow closer and soon we make it to the other side. Nick jumps down and I do the same.

“Run,” Nick says.

Werelion starts off toward the road but Ardie calls out.

“Wait! Nick, chop away the end of the tree on our side of the ditch or we’ll be running all the way to the Emerald City.”

Nick wastes no time and chops at the trunk with his sharpest, largest axe. Just as the two Kalidahs are almost across, the tree falls with a crash into the gulf, carrying the ugly, snarling brutes with it. We watch them fall and both splat, dashed to blackened bloody pieces on the sharp rocks at the bottom.

“Well,” says Werelion, drawing a long breath of relief, “We will live a little while longer, and I am glad, for it must be a very uncomfortable thing not to be alive.”

“I assure you, it is uncomfortable indeed,” Ardie agrees. He would know.

The forest at the other side of the canyon is now ablaze, and we stand a moment, watching the fire grow, engulfing the forest of both living and undead trees that line the canyon in both directions.

“Dorothy, are you all right?” Ardie asks me.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I sigh.

“I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. They had made it across by the time I got back to the tree. I had to cross to get the flamethrower,” Nick explains.

“It’s fine,” I say and shake it off.

It surprised me he just took off like that, but it wouldn’t have done any good if he’d stayed.

“No, it’s not. I saw you almost get swallowed by one. I should have stayed and fought.”

“No, Nick. If you had, you’d be dead, or undead. It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I’m sorry.”

“The flames were the only thing that could have stopped them,” Ardie says. “You made the right choice.”

“Thank you, for saving my life,” Nick says, and I smile at him, my armor folding back into my boots.

“Thank the boots. They were the only reason I was strong enough to pull you up. Come on, let’s move,” I say, and we walk toward the cracked yellow-brick road.

“It is probable that the land cracked to keep the kalidahs in their place,” Ardie says. “I wonder how long that canyon has been there.”

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” I must have misunderstood him.

“It is probable the land cracked to keep the kalidahs in their place, perhaps even to keep the zombiism from spreading.”

“The land made that choice?” I smirk.

“Yes, I would assume it.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Why would you think that was crazy?” Ardie asks, bewildered by my incredulity.

“It would not be the same in the civilized realm,” Nick says. “The land here is magical,” he explains. “It’s where a witch siphons their magic from, and I assume a wizard does as well.”

“Huh,” I say, thinking his statement over. “If that’s true, why doesn’t everyone have the power of a witch or a wizard in this place?”

“Witches live long lives and have the ability to siphon the magic. Few people have that gift,” Nick explains.

“They say witches are from another realm altogether,” Werelion says as though it scares him. “That they came here on another kind of magic and found they could steal the magic from the land, so they stayed to rule over us all.”

“That isn’t true. There is no proof to that legend,” Ardie says.

“If it is true, it would have happened centuries ago,” Nick says. “None of us could know such a thing. The witches who are here now were born here. They say their mothers were too, who were all witches themselves.”

“How many witches are here? Are there a lot?”

“The one you killed—the Vampire Witch of the East. Then there is her sister—the Vampire Witch of the West; in Gillikin there is the Zombie Witch Mombi; in Munchkin there is Gayelette, Slayer Witch of the North; in Quadling there is Glinda, the Red Witch of the South. If there are others, we do not know of them for they live in the countries outside of the uncrossable deserts that surround Oz,” Nick explains.

“Other countries?”

“Yes,” Ardie says with an amused smile. “We are in Oz now, but the country we are in is called Emerald. In Oz, there is Emerald Country, Gillikin Country, Munchkin Country, Winkie Land, and Quadling Country. A witch or wizard rules each country—Gaylette rules Munchkin Country, Glinda rules Quadling Country, Mombi rules Gillikin Country, the Vampire Witch of the West rules Winkie Land, and the Wizard rules Emerald and all the lands of Oz. The Land of Oz contains all the aforementioned countries, but that is only because when the Wizard came it was clear he was the most powerful of them all, so he rules all the witches and their lands. They answer to him.

“Gayelette and the Witch of the East battled for control of Munchkin Country for years. The Sister Witches ruled nothing once, but when they became vampires that changed. The Vampire Witch of the East pushed Gayelette back, and the Wizard brokered a treaty so that Gayelette ruled North Munchkin, where her castle was, and he gave East Munchkin to the sister witch and renamed her the Vampire Witch of the East.

“Then the other Sister Witch proclaimed herself ruler of Winkie Land in the west once she killed the royal family and took over the palace. That is when she took the name ‘Vampire Witch of the West’. This happened about ten years ago, but the vampirism didn’t become a plague until around four years ago. Outside of Oz there are other countries, although I have never been to them for you must pass the deserts to get to them and unless you have magic, you cannot survive the journey.”

“Like what other countries?” I ask, wondering if any of them are safe and monster-free in case I never get out of here. Oz is a place I do not want to reside.

“There is Ev,” Nick says. “Where the Nome King lives. He’s supposed to be a terrible dictator who uses dark magic to maintain his rule. Then there are many others.”

“Sing her the song, Nick,” Ardie says with amusement in his eyes. “I am sure you have a lovely voice.”

“Song?”

“There is a children’s rhyme to remember all the countries. We all learn it,” Werelion says.

“I want to hear it.”

Werelion begins and both Nick and Ardie join in straightaway singing a little ditty. As I listen, a smile plays on my lips. They aren’t so bad, throwing in some harmonies and everything.

“The lands of Oz are five in all—

In Winkie Land the men are tall,

In Munchkin Country things are small,

Both lands grow wicked when night falls,

There’s Quadling rich with rubies red.

Their armies will prevent bloodshed.

In Gillikin they’re all undead

With just one bite the bane will spread

Then at the center, set right between

There’s Emerald of vivid green.

In the Lands of Oz you might be safe.

But outside Oz there’s no escape

For beyond the desert deadly and vile,

The impassable undead’s exile

The Great Sandy Waste

The Shifting Sands

Lie far more terrifying lands.

The Kingdom of Ix

The Land of Ev

With evil kings and nomes and dread.

In Noland, Hiland, and Loland live few

In Vegetable Kingdom they eat people stew

From Misery Valley to Goryland,

You will find the fanged and damned,

Mifkets, Scoodlers, Wheelers too,

All fearsome foes. Remain eschew.

Rinkitink and Boboland,

Gargoyle, Whimsies, Phanfasms,

Growleywogs, the Isle of Phreex,

Foretell demise for the meek.

Pinagree and Ripple Land

Across an ocean and the quickest sand,

Murder, slaying, homicide,

From Rose Kingdom’s thorns no one can hide,

But the most frightening place of all

Is the Kingdom of Nightmares

Where all men fall.”

They finish their terrifying song, and I shudder.

“Are any of those places monster free?”

“No,” all three of them say in unison.

“That’s too bad,” I say and deflate. It would have been nice if there were a safe place to go if I am stuck here. Although I guess the City of Emeralds could be that place.

“It is,” Nick says.

“I hear Jinxland is the worst,” Werelion says. “Jinxland is part of Quadling. It borders the Great Sandy Waste. Glinda called upon the land to bound it with the highest of mountains so they could not get to the rest of Oz without great distress. There is a rumor they have elected their own evil ruler and consider themselves independent. That happened after they wrote the song. Jinxland is the part of Oz that’s closest to the Kingdom of Nightmares, just across the Great Sandy Waste.”

“You may find this surprising, but the Lands of Oz are the least worrisome of all the others. Except for Jinxland,” Ardie says.

Now more than ever, all I want is to get out of the forest, and out of this realm altogether, as far away from monsters and the likes of all threatening beasts. This place sucks, in every sense of the word.

Either depression or just plain stress weighs me down, and fatigue overwhelms me.

“I think I wore myself out, guys,” I say, fading fast as I slow to a stop.

“You were so light I almost did not notice you on my back while crossing the great ditch. I would be happy to carry you on my back if it would please you, Dorothy,” the Werelion offers.

It’s not even close to nightfall, and I already can’t go on.

“Yes, thank you, Werelion,” I agree, grateful to rest and keep moving. Even though I can’t keep going, I don’t want to stop here.

Werelion puts me on his back, my bag of weapons secure on my shoulders, and he carries me through the thick woods. Here, there are no undead trees in sight, so Toto can walk on his own alongside us. Nick walks at my side and I catch him looking at me with sad eyes too often.

“What?” I say, getting irritated.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?”

“Leaving you. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“We needed the flamethrower.”

“Dorothy, if your armor hadn’t held, you would have been dead.”

“It held though.”

He lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

“I promise I will protect you, and I will not make a mistake like that again.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” I say, still so tired it worries me. “Why am I so tired? You all seem fine. Do you think they infected me? Am I turning into a zombie?”

“No, Dorothy. It would have been instantaneous,” Ardie says.

“You used magic. If you never have before, that may be why,” Nick says.

“She used magic?” Ardie asks, surprised.

“Against the kalidahs. As I ran back to her, I saw it. A magical force burst from her, knocking the kalidahs back. They were trembling in fear of her when I arrived,” Nick tells them.

“It was the boots.” It must have been. I am not a sorceress. It surprises me even my friends doubt this very obvious fact.

“That may be, but it still moved through you,” Nick says.

“May be?” I say, wanting to challenge his doubts but I just don’t have the energy to sound as irritated as I am.

“Whether you are a sorceress is irrelevant because you used magic. I believe you when you say you are not. Proof enough of that is in your body’s reaction to using it, but it does not change that magic moved through you today, and it was powerful enough to make the scariest monsters in all the lands of Oz and beyond cower at your magical feet. It’s clear it’s the boots, Dorothy, yes, but the magic is the reason your are overwrought.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say and sigh, unable to continue conversation. I feel so drained. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.

“Just rest,” Nick says and pets my head. It feels so nice I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

When I wake, I am still cradled by the muscled shoulders on Werelion’s back as he carries me through the forest. Abundant green leaves of the lush, tall trees at every side of us obscure the blazing light of the sun. Only peeks of sunlight eke through the few fractures to paint the air with its liquid gold mist. Specks of dirt and dust glitter in the gold beams that caress my face as we trudge along. I take a deep, cleansing breath, feeling rested for the first time since I arrived. Relief washes over me. After my battle with the kalidahs I was so depleted.

Through the few breaks in the treetops I see the sun high in the sky, which means it is the afternoon, and within a few steps, as I become fully awake and sit up, we step out of the dense forest into a blood speckled landscape where the trees are much more sparse. With a restoring stretch, I get off Werelion’s back and kiss his cheek in thanks, and if his face wasn’t so furry, I’d be sure he blushed.

After only a short while walking in the open land, we come upon a broad river with fast flowing currents. On the other side of the water is the road of bloody yellow brick running through beautiful countryside. Lush green meadows spotted with bright flowers and splashes of dried blood lie at either side of the road. Blood splashed trees border the road carrying some fruit and a few deteriorating corpses drained of blood. The bodies appear to have been dropped from great heights, having landed in the treetops. Draped across branches, corpses lie broken, dangling, decomposing with lifeless limbs, graying and xanthous and marbled with black veins—it’s foul, and inapposite up against such a vibrant hued country where even the blood spatters are vivid shades of red.

At the other side of the river, the road is now ochre, a sheen of dried blood coating the entirety of its saffron brick, but the overgrown land at either side of the road, although blood spattered, is still lush and emerald green. Despite the decaying bodies peppering the neglected, bright-colored, and bloodied land, we are happy to see this open country before us. Although it may not be safer, the view is much preferred to the dense wood we were just in, but I’m not sure how we’ll get over there.

“How will we cross the river?” I ask.

“A raft,” Ardie says. “Nick could build it.”

“Can you do that?” I ask him, and he flashes his winsome grin.

“I can,” Nick says, and gets started.

He removes one of his axes from his chest plate and chops down small trees to make a raft, and while he’s busy at this, Ardie finds some trees full of not yet rotted fruit on the riverbank. Plums, apples, and peaches. I take them and pack them away for dinner, eating only one plum with some venison for my lunch.

It takes time to make a raft, even when one is as industrious and untiring as Nick, looking so tempting with his rippling muscles, chopping wood with his armor off, tying the pieces together with the rope from my bag of weapons, sweating and flexing, and all I can do is stare as my mouth waters at the sight of his quintessential manliness.

His beauty is undeniable, and I bet he’s amazing in bed. I didn’t think I could handle it before, but watching him now, I don’t think I care about the emotional consequences. When will I ever get to hook up with a guy as hot as him? Never. Except here, in this messed up realm where a regular girl like me is his only option for miles. Although he doesn’t seem interested in a tryst with me the way he was before. He hasn’t given me the vibe once since Nimmie came around, so it may be moot, but I can still look, and that’s all I do for the rest of the day.

Night comes, and the raft is only half done, so we find a cozy place under the trees where we set up camp to sleep until the morning. I fix dinner for Nick, Toto, and myself. Then Ardie, Werelion, and Toto go on a hunt for their food while Nick and I stay behind to start a fire that will keep us warm through the night.

“I regret that the raft is still incomplete,” he sighs.

“It’s a huge raft. Cut yourself some slack. You moved faster than any one person could. I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

“It takes upper body strength.”

“Well, you have plenty of that,” I say with a smolder that just comes out, the embers of attraction still flickering from watching him chop wood shirtless for hours.

“It must have been boring for you to have to watch and do nothing else,” he says, and I laugh.

“Hardly,” I chortle.

He smirks, knowing just what I mean. I shrug. If he walks around with his shirt off like that, I will ogle him without shame. The man is physical perfection. It’s likely I’ll never see a man like him up close for the rest of my life, so I will enjoy it.

“I’m sorry, Dorothy.”

“For what? Please don’t say it’s about going to get the flamethrower again.”

“No. I am sorry for that, but that is not what I meant. I am sorry for lying to you, for leading you to believe I had feelings of love for you,” he says and it hurts to hear, again.

“Oh,” I say. “Yeah,” I shrug. “Well, you told me you were heartless, and you’ve said this already. I wasn’t looking because I thought… You’re hot, all right? I was just enjoying the view. It’s not like I thought you… We… Don’t worry, I didn’t think you liked me, even when you were lying.”

“I do like you, Dorothy, but I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. Too late.

“It’s just a bruised ego. I’ll be fine.”

“What is an ego?”

“Self-esteem, my sense of self I guess is the best way to describe it. My self-image.”

“How did I bruise your self-image?”

“For real?” I ask with a light laugh.

“Yes,” he says, confused. “You are beautiful, so beautiful. It is that I have no feeling for anyone. I am heartless. It is not personal.”

“I understand,” I say and shake my head.

He has to say that. He’d be a complete jerk if he didn’t, but the reality is still what it is—I may be ethnically perplexing to some, but I still look like the most normal, average person. The most unique thing about me is this experience, and it’s something I can never share with anyone if I don’t want them to think I’m insane. I appreciate he’s trying to make me feel it is all him and not me though, even if I know what a load that is.

“If you understand, how have I bruised your self-image?”

The easiest thing would be for me to lie and say it’s not bruised just so this conversation will end, but lying to him doesn’t feel right. I’ve never been much of a liar. I’ve always been a little too honest. Like when my Aunt Emily asked me about Billy and my ‘virtue’ and I laughed and told her I’d slept with him so she didn’t need to worry about my virtue anymore. She looked horrified, and I knew she would be, but I was honest anyway. At first she tried to give me an earlier curfew and even called his mom and told her what I’d said, but I wasn’t ashamed and I just didn’t want to lie. The news thrilled his mom and the talk about us getting married began soon after. That freaked me out, and I was honest about that too. Maybe it’s a disease that I have no desire to lie even if it makes things weird. It’s part of who I’ve always been. I’ve never been a liar and if I could die at any moment, I don’t want to be a liar when I do just because it’s easier or less embarrassing.

“I’m sure other girls you’ve been with feel the same way, that if they had been more somehow, you may have changed for them. Maybe if I had been more, been better or exceptional in some important way, you would feel more for me. At the same time though, I know it’s silly to think those things. You have valid reasons for being cold and unfeeling.”

“Dorothy, you are more. You are beautiful, lovely, and so funny. You make me laugh and I haven’t laughed in so long. Indisputable goodness emanates from you every moment I have been in your presence, and despite your crass bathroom talk which I adore, you are pure in a way I have never seen in a person before. You are like crystal clear water. In moments you are calm, graceful, serene, but at any moment you could bubble up and destroy an enemy in your path with an untouchable force of strength. The way you fight an enemy is a beautiful and terrifying sight, with brisk liquid movements that flow unlike anything I’ve ever seen. You are like the cleanest blue waters—a pure force of nature.”

“That’s the boots.”

“No, it’s you. It’s in your eyes. It’s who you are.”

“Aww, thanks, but my mother had these eyes too and she couldn’t even swat a fly.”

My mom couldn’t kill anything. I remember once when I was around eight years old we had ants in the kitchen and instead of killing them, my mom had a talk with them. She said they had to leave or her husband would spray them with poison and they would die. Then she told them she would go for a while and when she was out, they needed to leave her house and not return. What’s weird is that when we got home, they had left, and they never came back. I was never like that. If I needed to, I could stomp a cockroach to death. I’m no Zen monk.

“You are unlike any woman I have ever known in the best possible way. I hate how I have been, that I have caused you to hurt. And I hate I lied to you. You have been wonderful to me. I want to be wonderful to you, so I will not try to kiss you again. I will not take advantage of our situation.”

“What’s our situation?”

“Being alone, being out of sorts on this journey, where your emotions run high and you seek comfort in another. You may seek comfort in me, but I will not try to take advantage. I want to be your friend.”

“Not asking me to stay anymore, huh?”

“I know you want to return to your realm. And although I will miss you, if you can leave this place, have a life that is safe, I want you to go. It would be selfish of me, of anyone, to ask you to stay. You should leave. It is what is best for you.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. Sadness fills my chest. I wish he would kiss me, but he won’t because he doesn’t want to. That’s all over. And I’m bummed, but I’ll get over it.

“Why do you appear so sad?” he asks.

It’s embarrassing and pointless to continue to go on explaining this to him, so I shrug. I don’t want to lie but I also don’t want to continue this conversation. But now I can’t look him in the eye because if I do I’ll tell him the truth and there’s no point. So instead, I look straight ahead into the fire and try to focus on the shades of the flames—scintillating butterscotch and coruscating amber, flaxen yellows and halcyon golds—but my mind drifts to my emotions that burn as hot as the bonfire before me.

Why does his rejection still hurt when I don’t even know him well, but what I do know of him is that he lies to get women into bed and claims to have no heart? And that’s when it hits me what a complete idiot I am—I’ve fallen victim to all those stories where women fall for the screwed up guy hoping to change him, hoping he falls for her because she differs from all the others. The delusion I’m special somehow has never been a problem for me. Until now, I’ve always known what I’m not—I am no different. I’m just plain Dorothy. This guy will not change for me. He will not grow a heart because of me. But he is nice enough to stop lying, so I guess in one sense I can appreciate that.

“Please tell me,” he says after a long silence from me. I chuckle, knowing I’m being so stupid.

“It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”

“No, you are not. Please, tell me.”

If we will be friends, real friends, and I want to be, I might as well be straight with him. I’ve never been one to hold back. So, I take a deep breath and gather the courage to just say it.

“In my realm, we have stories, lots, where there is a man who is… like you, I guess—brooding, dark, gorgeous, with your rippling muscles, perfect face, and tormented past—and there is a special woman who he changes his destructive ways for. These stories are everywhere. For some screwed up reason, I think we all hope a guy like that, like you, will change for us because we are special, so special he would do anything, even change his destructive ways to be with us, to have us, fall in love with us. We all want to be special no matter how average we are, and most of us are, and I guess I fell into that fantasy. Maybe. I’m just winging this answer, but I think that’s why I feel kind of sad. It would have been nice to be special enough for you to grow a heart for. But I realize it’s all just… silly.”

“Why silly?”

“These stories are a psychological manipulation. They teach us to want this make-believe thing. Screwed up guys who don’t want us, like you—no offense—become desirable because it’s like we win if they choose us, if they change for us.

“We have years of bad relationships because of these expectations. So many girls like jerks, and I think it’s because of these stories. I don’t know where these stories come from, but my society perpetuates them all over the place. Dark brooding guy meets average girl and changes his destructive ways for her, moves mountains for her, fights wars for her, does whatever it takes just to be with her.

“What’s stranger is that in these stories the girl is almost always average. Average looking, average life, maybe no one notices her until this guy comes along. He’s this beautiful man, and she’s just a girl. In the beginning he’s rude to her, to push her away because he’s dark and bad for her in whatever way.

“Even when girls are very young in my realm, when a boy is mean to them, says mean stuff, pulls her hair or steals her toy or whatever, their own mothers tell them it’s because they have a crush on her. And that weird idea that’s total nonsense is in stories again and again. It gets ingrained in us, and it’s sick and stupid and I think maybe it has something to do with men wanting to treat women like crap and still get laid—I’m not sure. I hate I fell for it.”

“But you are not average. You are so special, Dorothy. I am lucky you are my friend, and I do not want to hurt my friend.”

“I understand that too. And I appreciate it. I do. I’m honored to be your friend,” I say and smile.

He smiles back, but he looks sad. I’m sad too, but I think his sadness comes from shame, guilt for intending to use me, and for lying because he has grown to like me as a person. He doesn’t have feelings of love for me, but he wants to be my friend. And I want to be his friend too.

“We will make it to the City of Emeralds, and you’ll meet that one girl who checks all the boxes, your match, and you’ll fall in love, start a family, all the things you want. Maybe she is there now, just waiting to meet you. And maybe when you meet her, you’ll realize you have had a heart all along. It’s just been waiting to find her to open up and fall in love. I wish that for you, Nick. You will find love. You are not heartless. When you meet that one right girl, you’ll know it too,” I say.

He says nothing, just turns his head and looks into the fire as it crackles and pops, its flames growing into the glorious blaze that will keep us warm through the night.

Ardie, Toto, and the Werelion return and they have had their dinner. We all take our places by the fire, all but Ardie, and we drift off to sleep.

I stand in a city made of shining emeralds, faceted and rough, shining, deep green hexagons. Everyone here wears emeralds, in jewelry, and in their strange sparkling green clothing that looks Victorian and somewhat odd, with dramatic shapes and angles.

I walk up to a grand palace with emerald walls. My travel companions are with me, and Toto is at my feet. When I knock on the door, it opens, but no one is here to have answered it.

I glide down a long, bejeweled hall and at the end of the corridor a man stands with his back to me. A long green robe drapes over his broad shoulders, long white hair cascades down his back, and a tall shimmery green pointed cap sits atop his head. He turns and smiles when he sees me.

“Dorothy, I have been expecting you,” he says.

“You have?”

“I am a great wizard. I could see you coming. Allow me to help you and your friends.”

“Thank you.” I hug him in deep gratitude and joyful laughter rumbles in his chest.

“Your friends will have a place here, and I will heal them of their ailments. I have a cure for zombiism, and I will cast a spell that shall help the shifter find courage and strength in all situations so he may return to his human form for good. I will show the Axeman he has had a heart all along. His true love lives here, in this city. He will meet her soon and find true happiness. But first, I will send you and Toto home to Kansas. All you have wished for, I grant you,” he says, his bright smile beaming.

His face is hard to discern in this light, with bright, reflective emeralds almost blinding me, but I can tell his smile beams.

“Thank you,” I gasp as tears of joy and gratitude fill my eyes.

“All I require is that you leave the boots with me. It is a fair exchange,” he says, and I am happy to oblige.

“You may have them. It is a fair trade. I only need to get them off my feet.”

He waves his emerald wand and they appear in his hands, leaving my feet bare.

“You must say goodbye now,” he tells me.

I turn and look to Ardie who is now a living man. A tear leaves his eye, and he hugs me tight to his chest.

“Dorothy, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

I pull away and turn to the Werelion who is also a man. He is big, sweet, and kind looking, but I can see the strength and courage in his eyes.

“Goodbye Dorothy, and thank you,” he says and hugs me too.

“Thank you, for carrying me when I was too tired to walk, for getting us all across the ravine, for everything,” I say as I hug him back. When I pull away, he gives me a sweet smile.

I turn to Nick, who looks happy, and hopeful, not brooding or sad at all.

“Thank you, Dorothy. You have been a great friend. I will miss you,” he says and I smile and kiss his cheek goodbye.

He pulls me in for a hug and I hug him back. It surprises me, but this goodbye makes me the most sad of all. For a moment, I thought I was falling in love with him, but it was just a crush. It’s the first real crush I’ve had, and I understand more than ever why they call it a crush. I let them go, those hopeful feelings, the fluttering in my chest when I look at him, and in an instant I am over him. What’s left is gratitude for having known him, and hope for his future. I want him to have all the best things in life.

“I am so excited for you, to fall in love, start a family of your own, and I wish all the happiness possible for you. It’s been an honor being your friend,” I tell him and pull away.

When I turn to the white-haired wizard, he nods—it’s time. I pick Toto up, carrying him in my arms, and the wizard waves his wand. In a puff of white smoke, I am back in my house in Kansas with my Aunt Em and my Uncle Henry. It’s like I never left. Everything is gray and the same, except for me.

The radiance of Oz has stayed with me, and this time I know I will be the color I covet. I will imbue this gray world with my vivid hues. The colors were always in me, just waiting for me to shine them on my little world, and now that I know they are there, that I am the color I craved, I can be the dream I’ve always dreamed of whether I’m in Kansas or Cairo.

Em is fixing dinner and Henry is reading in his chair just like every other night, but this time I am grateful for the tranquil scene before me. When Em turns and looks at me, she smiles.

“We were wondering when you’d be back. Wash up for dinner now. It’ll be ready in a minute,” she says.

“I’ve had such an adventure, Em,” I tell her.

“You can tell me all about it at dinner. Go on now,” she says, and I feel a strong sense of relief as I walk into my room.

I sit on my bed and put Toto down beside me. He licks my face again and again, so happy to be home. And I am happy to be home too.

Toto is licking my face as I open my eyes, waking from my deep sleep. I am still in Oz by the fire which is now only low burning embers. Ardie is awake, as always. Nick and the Werelion are still asleep.

“I hope I did not wake you. We just returned from our morning hunt,” Ardie tells me.

“Toto woke me, not you,” I say and sigh as I sit up. “I was having such a nice dream. We went to the City of Emeralds and the Wizard granted all of us our wishes. I saw you as a living man, cured of your zombiism.”

“I hope your dream comes true,” Ardie says with a happy smile.

“So do I.”

I want all of us to get what we want. And I believe we will. I only hope it’s that easy.

11

The Deadly Poppy Field

Behind us stands the dark forest. Before us lies the mendacious country that beckons us on with its deceiving sunniness to the Vampire Free Zone. The broad river cuts us off from the alluring land ahead, and I’m wary of its presence, unsure whether the magical land has separated us from a far worse place or protected the dazzling countryside beyond the water from the forest we’ve emerged from.

By now, the raft is almost complete, and after Nick cuts a few more logs and fastens them together with rope and wooden pins he’s made, we’re ready to go. In the middle of the raft is where I take my seat with Toto in my arms, figuring it’s the most stable spot, but when Werelion gets on, the raft tips, and I slide to the edge almost toppling into the fast-moving current. Ardie and Nick jump on the other end right before Toto and I fall into the water, and I scramble back to the center of the raft.

To push the raft through the rapids, Nick and Ardie hold makeshift quant poles fashioned from strong, thick branches, and we go into the big water attempting to ferry across. At first, we are moving along well enough, but when we reach the center channel of the river, the whitewater grows so deep the quant poles will not touch the bottom and the swift current thrusts us forward, sweeping the raft downstream. Powerless against the fast-moving chute, we move farther and farther away from the road.

“If we cannot get to the land, the water will carry us into the country of the Vampire Witch of the West where she will enchant us and make us her slaves,” Nick says.

“We must get to the City of Emeralds,” Ardie says, growling with determination as he thrusts his quant pole into the river’s floor. But we must be out of the channel because the water level here is lower and the pole sticks so fast and so deep into the mud at the bottom of the river that before he can pull it out or let go, the raft sweeps away on the hairy current and leaves Ardie to cling to the quant in the middle of the river.

“Ardie!” I cry out as we speed away from him. He clutches the pole sticking straight up from the water, his arms and legs curled around it, holding on tight.

“Don’t worry, Dorothy, I’ll be fine! Goodbye!” he calls after us, his voice fading fast with the increasing distance, and I burst into tears not knowing what to do as the breakneck torrent sends the raft a great distance downstream, leaving poor Ardie behind.

“I will swim to the shore and tow the raft after me. Hold fast to the tip of my tail.”

With lightning fast reflexes, Nick catches hold of Werelion’s tail right as he springs into the river. Through the efflux of the rough moving whitewater, Werelion swims, paddling his giant paws like oars, pulling us across the surging rapids with all his might.

I put Toto belly-down on the center of the raft before I grab the quant pole Nick drags through the water. With careful steps, I place myself on the stern and plunge the pole into the river’s floor. With each hard shove, I garner as much strength as I have in my body. Nick crouches on the bow and grips the raft with his free hand while holding Werelion’s tail in the other, and Werelion swims for all our lives.

It’s a great struggle, with growling grunts and roars and sputters, but he hauls us to shore, dragging us onto the bar of the riverbank.

Toto is the first to jump off the raft, hurrying onto the grass. Nick and I follow as Werelion tumbles over the bar and falls, spent and wet. Toto rushes to Werelion and licks his face, trying to thank him the only way he knows how. Nick and I assess our situation as Toto’s excessive kisses give Werelion the giggles.

The river has carried us miles downstream winding around bend after bend. We have long past the road that leads to the City of Emeralds, and we are so far downstream I can’t see the road in the distance.

“We have to get back to the road,” I say with a sigh, distraught over the loss of Ardie.

One second he was with us, the next he was gone, and the feeling is far too familiar. People sometimes get ripped from our lives and it’s devastating. It’s as though the hand of fate reaches inside your chest and clutches your heart in a vise grip. Senseless and savage acts seem to be her forte.

I’m tired of fate. Tired of hating her. She’s cruel to too many of us, she ignores most of us, and half the time she favors the unscrupulous. Where did all the good fates go? Did they ever exist? Or on the rare occasions fate shines on good people is it only a fluke? Maybe it was never fate that shined on them. Maybe they just slipped under her radar long enough to accomplish something significant without loss or grief or devastation. Or maybe there’s something out there stronger than fate. Too bad it’s frugal in choosing its battles with her.

“The best plan will be to walk along the riverbank until we come to the road again,” Werelion says, then stands and shakes out his wet fur.

We take a short moment to catch our breath before we start along the grassy bank to the road. However picturesque it is on this side of the river, I don’t enjoy it because I cannot stop thinking of Ardie. I can’t stop imagining his undead body beneath the river, his lungs filling with water, his zombie body being battered by the sharp rocks and relentless undercurrent. His undead nature forces him to live through the torture of drowning without the ability to sleep or lose consciousness—the only thing that might offer him a brief respite from the brutal rapids. I wonder how far down the river he is by now, or if he’s still clinging to the quant, stuck in the mud in these rough waters while the wild flowers and trees and sunshine on this side of the river taunt him.

“Look,” Nick says as we approach Ardie still clinging to the quant pole as the water level rises. Water bubbles up the pole as though it’s trying to suck him under, swelling in a convex boil below his feet. But it’s the look on Ardie’s face that kills me. He looks miserable and scared, something he would hide if he knew I was watching.

Throughout this trip, since we met, he’s been indomitable for me. His unassailable spirit has made me believe I might be okay even though it’s far more probable I won’t be. When he stepped into my life, he took on the role of my protector. If it weren’t for his company early on, I’d have crumbled a thousand times over by now. I can’t do this without him. I won’t leave him here, even if it means I have to stay on this riverbank for the rest of my damned life.

“What can we do?” I ask, my mind scrambling to think of ways to get him off that pole and onto this side of the riverbank, but nothing is coming to mind. Werelion and Nick both shake their heads, not seeing a solution either.

For the first time in a long time, I pray for something to go our way, something to help us, help him, and me. If I have to do this without him it’d be like climbing Mount Everest with a limb missing—not impossible but far more difficult.

Since these boots appeared on my feet, somehow my emotions have been dull. It seemed as though the magic attached to my footwear kept me calm through every brush with death, but I may have been shutting down my emotions, displacing them onto my almost relationship with Nick. A broken heart from a playboy is far easier to navigate than a fight for survival in a land of monsters where a new form of demise lies around every corner. So even though I somehow bankrupted my fear in crucial moments—maybe for the sake of survival—now I’m terrified.

Through every second of this journey, I’ve been suppressing terror. Aside from these boots on my feet, Ardie was what gave me some reassurance, some genuine security on this outrageous excursion, and I don’t want to do this without him. I cannot and will not leave him perched on a pole in the middle of a river. So, I ask fate, beg her, to please help.

A buzzing rumbles at the base of my spine and shoots up to my skull. In an instant, the foggy gray lens that has marred my vision of the world cracks and shatters and a metaphysical message downloads into my brain—fate is a lie, a trick. My parents did not die by the hand of fate. They died by the hand of a man who fell asleep at the wheel of his truck. A terrible mistake took my parents. A person took my parents. But it’s easier to hate an imaginary thing than a man who was also dead because of those mistakes.

In my realm, in the real world, a world without real magic, there’s only action and chaos. Perhaps there’s some pattern so vast we can’t see it, like a giant universal machine we are all a part of, but actions are its fuel, actions steer it. God may exist. Angels might be real. Energies beyond the physical may take part in the actions of men, but nothing preordains to such a degree that we cannot determine our futures through the actions we do or don’t take.

Over the past four years I have been hiding from fate because I feared her. I didn’t let myself want anything more than color for fear it would shatter my hopes with tragedy. I didn’t let myself love too much for fear of fate ripping it away from me. My misconceptions grayed out my world, dulled it to dust and ash and fog, clouding my pain. Wrong thinking gave me the illusion of a chaotic world that made rational sense, when in reality, it is our thoughts and actions that make us, and ‘meant to be’ is a bandage made of make-believe.

Perhaps here, in this magical place, I have even more control over circumstance than I ever did back home. Perhaps here, the windows to the metaphysical are wide open, and someone or something can hear my prayers. So, I pray to whatever is out there, either God or fortune or angels or magic, whatever allows people like me access to its power on rare occasions, and I ask it to please, please, help us. Whether it’s by some epiphany that will show me the right action to take, or by something outside myself that gets Ardie onto this shore, help is what I need in any form I can get it. Please, with everything I am, I’m begging for help.

Like a warm, gossamer blanket that wraps around me, a sense of lightness and peace and a glimmer of something else altogether eases over me, through me, from the top of my head and down to my feet then into the magical ground below, and when I look out at the world before me, I see it, my prayer, in a shimmering haze of prismatic light that picks up with the wind and dissipates through the air in a breeze that overspreads the land before it dissolves to nothing.

I’m not sure what that was, or what it means, but a moment later, a great shifter bird flies overhead. When she spots us, she lands before us at the water’s edge. Large and beautiful, with white and black feathers, broad wings and a yellow beak, she has large talons for feet, thin bird legs from the knees down, with a torso, eyes, and a head like a woman. Her long platinum hair flies in the wind revealing her birdlike, graceful neck.

“Who are you?” asks the Shifter Bird with a curious tilt of her head.

“I am Dorothy,” I answer, “and these are my friends, Nick the Axeman, and Werelion. We are going to the City of Emeralds and—”

“This isn’t the road,” she says, appraising us in sharp quirks of her head, twisting her long neck.

“I know, but we’ve lost our friend, and are wondering how we’ll get him over here. Do you think perhaps you might help?”

“Where is this friend?”

“Over there in the river,” I answer.

“I can get him for you, but if I find he is too heavy to carry, I shall have to drop him.”

“What do you want in return?” Nick asks, wary of her, and she narrows her eyes.

“A proper thank you and an apology for your bad manners should suffice,” she says as I elbow him in his metal clad side.

“Sorry, he has trust issues,” I say with an embarrassed shake of my head.

“I understand. But I do what I can to help my fellow werebeasts,” she says turning to Werelion and nodding in respect. Werelion nods back in thanks.

With a deep bend at her birdlike knees, she takes off into the air and flies over the water until she comes to where Ardie perches upon his pole. Then, with her great claws, she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and carries him up into the air, back to the bank where we are sitting. She drops him at our feet without a word and continues to fly off.

As she flies away, I wave to her, calling out, “Thank you!”

She nods back before she soars in spirals up into the sky and out of sight. Ardie is so thrilled that he hugs us all, even Nick.

“Ardie, thank goodness,” I sigh as I hug him tight, and he hugs me, rubbing my back, comforting me as he has since I met him. I haven’t known him long, but already he means so much to me. I hate to leave him behind when I go. But if I don’t get to leave, for some terrible reason, if I have his friendship, I might be okay.

“How lucky that was! I thought I’d never see you all again,” Ardie says, beaming his positive outlook with a bright smile of relief as we go on our way along the riverbank toward the road.

“That wasn’t luck. That was magic,” Nick says.

“Magic?” Ardie says, his brows knitting in confusion while Werelion’s face reflects the same bewilderment.

“Yes, Dorothy used magic again.”

“Uh,” I say, surprised by his remark. “I did?”

“Yes, you did,” he says with incredulous eyes.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“When? How?” Werelion says as befuddled as I am.

“Magic flowed through her and over the land, caught in the wind, and carried the werebird here. Did you not see it? The rainbow mist?”

“That was you?” Ardie asks, looking as surprised as me.

“It was the boots.”

“The boots are silver, not rainbow.”

“So?” Ardie says.

“So, I saw her do it. It came from above, through her, into the land, and into the ether.”

“From above?” Ardie says, his brows knitting in consternation.

“Why is that weird? That it came from above.”

“The magic comes from the land,” Werelion says.

“So?”

“The air is part of the land,” Ardie says, his tone defensive.

“Perhaps,” Nick says.

“What were you doing when it happened?” Werelion asks.

“Praying.”

“Praying?” Nick says as though he doesn’t know the word.

“I was asking some unseen force for help, whatever was out there. I’m not sure what, but I asked, prayed, for help.”

“Magic,” Nick says.

“Maybe,” I shrug. “Or whatever answered my prayer used the magic of the land to help.”

“Perhaps that’s it,” Nick says.

“Are you tired again?” Ardie asks. I take stock and find I feel wonderful, grateful, better than I have in a long while.

“No. Not even a little,” I answer, and Ardie smiles.

“Thank you, Dorothy, for helping me. I was afraid I should have to stay in the river forever. Thanks to your prayer, the kind bird shifter saved me, and if I ever get a chance, I shall find that bird shifter again and do her some kindness in return.”

“I think that would be a lovely thing to do,” I say and smile at him, so happy to have him back on dry land.

“Thank Dorothy. It was her magic that brought the bird shifter and compelled her to land before us and ask if we needed help,” Nick says.

“He just did. Did I do something wrong? Is using magic a bad thing?”

“No, Dorothy, it is not a bad thing,” Ardie says.

“Are you sure? Because Nick seems to think it is.”

“I did not say it was a bad thing,” he says, throwing up his hands.

“Then why do I feel you are accusing me of something?”

“Accuse? No, that is not the right word. I am pointing out you have magic, that is all.”

“Doesn’t everyone here? Don’t you guys call this the magical realm?”

“It is the magical realm, but not everyone has access to its magic,” Werelion says. “Only wizards and witches can access the magic in the land to use for their purposes. There are magical creatures here, but even they don’t have magic that way.”

“Some do,” Nick says.

“Dorothy is not a sorceress. She is wearing the boots of a powerful witch. The magic was a gift to her because she killed the Vampire Witch of the East,” Ardie says.

“I think that’s clear,” I agree.

“Perhaps you should use borrowed magic with discretion,” Nick says. “Magic can do wonders but it can also hurt if the one who wields it is inexperienced.”

“That is a good point,” Ardie agrees. “Using magic has consequences, as you saw when your energy depleted the first time.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I say.

“Those boots belonged to an evil Vampire Witch and using her magic could hurt you. So, perhaps don’t pry,” Nick suggests.

“It’s pray, and I don’t do it often,” I say with a snort. “But that was dire straits, literally.”

“True,” Werelion agrees.

“I am not trying to upset you,” Nick says, softening, “I am only saying you should be cautious. We cannot have you hurt, Dorothy. I cannot.”

“I get it. But you can let it go now.”

“Yes, Dorothy, I will. I am sorry if I upset you,” Nick says and offers a soft smile to me. A sigh escapes me, and I know he’s right, that I should be careful, but it wasn’t intentional, and it didn’t feel evil or bad when it happened. But I will avoid calling on magical things in this place. Because I don’t know what could happen. That is something I can’t deny, and to err on the safe side of magical things is the smart thing to do.

We make it back to the road where decaying corpses fill the treetops, some impaled by branches, some captured by a cluster of offshoots, their limbs broken, twisted, and dangling at odd angles. But all appear drained of their blood, sucked dry, lifeless and yellowed, marbled with black veins, with glazed over eyes frozen in horror.

The entire scene before me makes me ill. Decaying limbs ripped from bodies torn with sharp teeth lie strewn about at the sides of the road, their muscles torn away from their bones as if they were feasted on. Innumerable flies buzz about the ground and treetops devouring the rotting remains, and it’s so loud it makes my stomach churn.

The road looks as though blood has poured out over it in sheets, perhaps spread out by rain, because the yellow brick is tinted orange. This must be a part of the countryside where vampires and werebeasts both find their meals. But because the sun is high in the sky, there are no vampires, and perhaps because we have Werelion with us, no shifters are attacking.

As we walk along past the gory spectacle, there are no more dead bodies, no more spilled blood, and all that remains is beautiful country. We listen to the songs of radiant birds that fly about. The birds seem to feel safe enough to tweet and trill. It’s a relief—it means there are no threats here, or it appears that way. I’m sure it won’t last, so I’ll enjoy it while it does.

With the bright yellow road under my silver clad feet, I take in the beautiful scene. The lovely flowers have become so thick they carpet the ground. A polychromy of fat blossoms the size of saucers sway beside enormous clusters of scarlet poppies which are so brilliant they dazzle my eyes. There is nothing this colorful in the gray Kansas landscape, and I am reminded to be careful what I wish for. But I am also grateful for having a moment’s peace in such a beautiful place. A small part of me feels like this is my wish fulfilled, and I am grateful for the brief moment where there is no terrible consequence.

“Aren’t they pretty?” I say as I breathe in the spicy scent of the bright flowers.

“I suppose so,” answers Ardie. “When I have brains to eat, I shall like them better. As usual, it’s all I can think of.”

“If I had a heart, I’d love them too,” adds Nick.

“I always liked flowers,” says the Werelion. “They seem so helpless and frail. But there are none in the forest so bright as these. And there doesn’t even seem to be any blood or carcasses around.”

“I was thinking the same thing. It’s a nice relief.”

“It is,” Werelion agrees.

At least I’m not alone in appreciating the picturesque scene that surrounds us, and it appears to be free of blood stains. Vampires must not like flowers too much.

We walk a little further and find ourselves surrounded by more and more of the big scarlet poppies, and fewer and fewer of the other flowers. Rich cerise cascades over the vista, and the spicy aroma makes it a full body experience. With a scent so strong, I can taste the spiciness on my tongue, feel it on my skin in the light breeze as it blankets me in its fragrance. A carnelian feast for the senses—it’s hypnotizing.

Amid a vast poppy meadow where scarlet blooms dance in the breeze for miles, red is all there is. The scent is so heavy it intoxicates. Warm redolence lulls me into a state so relaxed, all I can do is lay down amongst the blooms and ride the lush vermilion rapture to a dreamscape of ripe red cherries and warm sweet spices and languid bliss. My eyelids grow so heavy I can’t say a word as I plop down amongst the flowers and fall back into their soft bed.

“We must get back to the road before dark,” Nick says, yawning. But I can’t speak. I can’t stand either. Instead, in swirls of carmine and crimson and incarnadine exultation, I sleep.

12

The Queen of the Wererats

I’m gelatinous goo. My brain is a goopy glop and my lips are floppy and burbly. I’m in a bubble going in a loopty loop, spinning. Superglue anvils have become my eyelids and my tongue is too tired and flappy to talk.

I try to pry open my eyes, but the lethargy is so intense it nauseates me. Dim fog fills my vision, but after a moment, my sight comes into focus. Bronze and brown color the sky. Dark jagged shadows paint the rough texture of the clouds. No, not clouds—the sky is dirt illuminated by golden lamplight.

Where am I?

Alarmed, I shoot to my feet, my heart pounding as hundreds of rat people close in on me. Shifters. Perhaps they were munchkins once because they are small, with rat heads and rat tails. In armor that looks like it’s made from the exoskeletons of giant bugs, they appear to be a shifter army. Straightaway, my boots cover me in armor and a long metal whip grows from my hand. I crack it, sending them scurrying back.

“Dorothy!” I hear Nick say behind me and I turn my head to see him hurrying toward me from further down the tunnel. “They are helping us. They are friends.”

When I take them in, so many filling the tunnels that encircle the junction I stand in, I see the hundreds of shifter rat people watching me with sheepish expressions, their beady eyes brimming with hope, and my armor shrinks back into my boots. As they let out a collective breath, Nick closes the gap between us and surprises me with a hug.

“What happened? Where are we?”

“The poppies—they made you fall into a deep sleep. While I ran out, Ardie pulled you and Toto from the field, but the Werelion was too heavy for him. Once I made my way out of the field, into the trees, I had a moment to recover before I saw the Queen of the Wererats running from a feline shifter. I was groggy, but I was still strong enough to drive off the lynx shifter. As a thank you, they brought us into their tunnels to keep us safe and agreed to help us get Werelion out. By some enchantment, they are immune to the effects of the poppies. I’m building a stretcher so they can lift him and bring him to us. Ardie is up there keeping watch, making sure nothing happens to Werelion while I build. If we leave him there too long, he’ll die,” Nick informs me.

“Oh no,” I breathe, worried and astonished at the horror and strangeness of it all.

A female rat shifter emerges from the group wearing a shimmering gold exoskeleton dress with a full skirt that looks as though it’s made of gold beetle backs and luminous insect wings. A matching lucent gold crown sits atop her rat head.

“Dorothy, let me introduce to you her Majesty, the Queen,” Nick says.

Not knowing what the proper etiquette is when you meet a shifter queen, I curtsy. The little queen smiles, amused by what I’m sure is my ineptitude. Even though I’ve never seen a rat smile, I can tell that’s what she’s doing. In a rat sort of way, she’s pretty. With a somewhat human face, she has the head, ears, and nose of a rat. While her body is very ratlike, with rat hands and rat feet, she has breasts and a waist like a human woman.

The wererats that surround us carry what appear to be strings in their tiny hands or in their mouths, many of them climbing up a slope of the tunnel a few feet off from where we stand toward the stretcher Nick has been building.

“The pulleys are here,” the Wererat Queen says to Nick.

He rushes over to the stretcher and fastens the wererats to it using the strings they carry. One end of a string he ties around the midsection of each wererat and the other end he ties to the large platform. Once he’s harnessed the wererats, they pull it forward up the tunnel’s slope. Nick hurries after them and I follow with the Wererat Queen at my side.

The slope leads up into the base of a massive tree trunk thirty yards from the yellow brick road on the opposite side of the poppy field where I last remember passing out. Nick draws the platform with the wererats over to Ardie, who holds Toto in his arms, at the edge of the poppies. Werelion lies in the center of the field, asleep.

“I am sorry our security system harmed you. Most friendlies who come through here use the tunnels,” the Wererat Queen says.

“Security system?”

“Yes, we planted this poppy field to slow predators. Although we cannot escape them all, when they are sluggish it helps. Only friendlies gain entrance into the tunnels. Most predators do not know they exist, and if they do, each entrance has a security system much like this one.”

“There are more tunnels?”

“Throughout the land of Oz along the road of yellow brick. Although you must know where they are to enter. Most friendlies who travel here use the tunnels, for this location is difficult to get to unless you fly as a vampire or a werebird does. Most friendlies who cross the river must use the tunnels.”

“We built a raft, but it didn’t work out too well. We went far off course.”

“I imagine so, for it flows right into Winkie Land—vampire country.”

“Yes, I heard that,” I say with a sigh, grateful we got out of that awful situation even though we stepped right into another awful situation, but that’s life in Oz—one terrible thing after another.

“The Axeman is quite something,” she says as she looks at him with admiration in her beady eyes.

“Yeah.”

“He is a fierce fighter. You are lucky to have him along your journey to the City of Emeralds.”

“I am.”

“You must know he cares for you. He held you to him for the first hour while my men gathered materials for the truck. You are a lucky witch.”

“I’m not a witch. Just a girl with witch boots.”

“Ah, I see. You are the one who slew the Vampire Witch of the East. Word of you has traveled throughout the land. I would expect a visit from her sister soon.”

“What?”

Fear worms its way into my chest and takes root. It shouldn’t surprise me someone would want me to pay for killing her, but it does. I hadn’t thought about it. All I’ve thought about is surviving this journey, although it could be moot. We are almost at our destination, and if I can make it to the City of Emeralds without any run-ins with more witches or undead or predatory shifters, then I have nothing to worry about because I’ll be leaving this realm.

“Beware of what may come your way, for she knows you slew her sister.”

“I’m leaving once I get to the City of Emeralds. Gayelette told me the Wizard can send me home.”

“Perhaps he can. If anyone can, it would be him, but if you do not gain protection from the Wizard, expect her to come for you.”

“Great,” I grumble as I watch Ardie hand Toto to Nick and get onto the platform. Right now, I cannot think about what will happen if I don’t get the Wizard to help me, so instead, I turn my attention to Ardie and the stretcher. It’s a lot like a sled led by little shifter rats wearing bug bodies for armor.

Wererats drag Ardie to the place where the Werelion lay asleep. A chuckle escapes me at the sight of Ardie flying on a truck bed drawn by a hundred wererats to the field of poppies. When I turn, I see Nick smiling at me as he approaches with Toto at his feet.

“I will give you two a minute,” she says with a knowing smirk on her rat lips and steps back into the tree trunk to the tunnel below.

“Oh, Dorothy, I was so worried,” Nick says as he comes over and stands beside me.

“Even though I feel out of it, I’m okay. Thanks to you guys.”

“Ardie pulled you and Toto out. I almost did not get out of there myself,” he says, ashamed.

“I’m glad you did,” I say, and he beams his gorgeous smile at me. “The sled thing was your idea, huh?”

“Yes. I am glad you are well, Dorothy,” he says with twinkling, kindhearted eyes.

“Me too,” I laugh.

“The Emerald City is not far. To have lost you now would have been unfortunate.”

“Uh, yeah,” I agree with a huffed laugh. “Did they have those strings on them, or did they find them around here?”

“Oh, those are not strings.”

“What are they?”

“Entrails,” he admits, his eyes crinkling in a slight wince, knowing it will horrify me.

“Of what? Or who?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer.

“A swarm of werebugs. Those strings are their alimentary canals, tubes that go from the mouth to the anus of an insect. An insect’s digestive—”

“Got it,” I say, getting grossed out.

“The wererats were feeding when we returned the Queen to them,” he says, also disgusted. “It is lucky, I suppose, for us that is. And for the Queen we saved from the lynx shifter.”

“I suppose so,” I say, wanting this conversation to finish, not wanting to think about them eating other shifters. If a shifter in its predatory animal form eats another shifter in its animal form, is it still cannibalism? Ugh. I can’t. That’s going on the list of things to never think about.

“Perhaps you should eat,” he says.

“After that conversation I want to say no, but I am starving,” I admit, and he chuckles.

Up against the tunnel wall rests my bag of weapons. He walks over and takes out some food, being very attentive to me, and I appreciate it considering I am still so groggy from the poppies. We eat the last of the venison, giving the scraps to Toto who is awake but also groggy and cuddled up at my feet.

After a while, I see Ardie helping to push the truck the Werelion lies on. Thousands of wererats harnessed with entrails of wereinsects pull Werelion from the field of poppies over to the tunnel. Nick and Toto follow, so I rise to go meet them.

“He’s still alive, but his breathing is shallow,” Ardie says as they drag Werelion down into the tunnels.

The wererats scurry into the lamplit tunnels and Ardie, Nick, Toto, and I follow. When we reach the bottom of the slope, they remove their harnesses of entrails.

“Thank you. You saved his life, and we will be forever grateful,” Nick says.

With a nod of acknowledgement, they scamper away, and the Queen steps forward.

“Axeman, you saved my life. If ever you need us again,” she says to Nick and hands him a whistle, “come out into an open field and call. We shall hear you and come to your aid. You may stay here until the werelion awakes, but since he is a werefeline, we will take our leave,” she says and Nick smiles.

“Thank you for your help,” Nick says.

“You are welcome. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he answers, and the Queen runs into the center of her wererat army.

Worried Toto might run give chase and frighten her, I pick him up and hold him tight to my chest. Even though he seems to know better, thank goodness, I take no chances.

While we wait for Werelion to wake, Nick and I sit beside him on the dirt floor of the tunnel, and Ardie goes off to hunt for his dinner with Toto. For our dinner, Nick and I share the last of the fruit and nuts from my bag. If I were to want to read into what the Queen of the Wererats said, I might think Nick had stronger feelings for me than he does, but it’s clear he was just worried about me while I was asleep, intoxicated by the poppies.

As we watch the Werelion sleep, we say little to each other. After a few minutes pass, I hear laughter echoing from above ground. Boisterous voices laugh and shrill from just outside the tree trunk. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were shifters entering the tunnels after a long night of partying, but the sun has only just set. This time, I know it’s got to be vampires. The first thing I do is open my bag of weapons and take out two matching wooden stakes, one for each hand, while Nick puts on his helmet and readies himself.

“Come on out, lovelies,” one female voice croons. “Make it easy on yourselves, for I hate dank and musty tunnels.”

When I turn to Nick, he shakes his head no.

“Spells protect these tunnels. Vampires cannot enter,” he whispers.

“Ardie and Toto will come back at any minute. We’re better off dealing with them now,” I say, and he sighs.

“Right,” he grumbles, and we head up the slope to the bottom of the trunk.

A group of about thirteen vampires dressed in that frilly old-fashioned style all the vampires seem to rock with fluffy ruffles and cravats and corsets, take a step toward us as we walk out of the tree.

“Can you explain the outfits please? Why so many ruffles? And the cravats? In case you didn’t realize with the lack of blood flow you’ve got going on, it’s at least eighty degrees out.”

One girl squeals, clapping her hands with a crazed smile. Losing a soul and constant murder must have done a number on her sanity because she looks maniacal, her glassy eyes opened wide in glee.

“Oh, I want her! Mine, mine!” she says giggling as she bounces.

“I want you too you crazy psycho. Come here and get it,” I say and blow her a kiss.

A high-pitched laugh bellows from her, echoing off the trees. The female at the center gets irritated with my bravado, her jaw ticking as her lips press into a firm line. When she narrows her eyes at me, I huff out a laugh at her.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to make such an ugly face? It might freeze that way. Or is it too late for that?”

“We’ll make this quick,” she says as a small, sneering smile takes over her lips.

“Boy, do I hope so, because I have places to be tonight,” I say, and she laughs. The others follow her lead and laugh with her.

“I don’t think you will make it,” she returns, and I throw the stake at her with such speed even I don’t see it until it hits her right in her heart and she falls to the ground, dead for good. The twelve other vampires’ eyes widen in shock, their jaws drop, and even I’m surprised because my armor isn’t covering me yet. But that might be a smart thing to do now.

“I almost forgot,” I say, and my boots grow flowing over my body and morphing into my silver-plated armor in an instant.

If I thought they look surprised a second ago, their soulless eyes are bulging now. The psycho one screams, and I throw the other stake straight into her chest. She falls down dead. Like dominoes they hiss and show their fangs, the unearthly color of their reddish eyes twinkling with hate.

They attack, rushing toward us with uncanny speed. Nick throws an axe, and it strikes a charging vampire in the heart. Long silver stakes grow from my fists and I fly to meet them as if gravity means nothing to me. Just as they move at hyper speed, so do I, stabbing these ostentatious vampires in their hearts. Nick is impressive himself, taking out two at a time, beheading them with his swirling axes. Because so many are on me, I kick a few before I stake another, and after I take out five and Nick has taken out four, I see the three I only maimed running away.

As I race after them, my feet pound into the ground. When they take off into the sky, I leap into the air and grab the ankles of the two on the outside. I use them as leverage to lift my feet enough to stake the third in the center. Straight through his back, I kick him with the spike at the tip of my toe. As that one falls to the ground dead and splats, I use my inordinate strength to pull the other two down to my eye level, grab them by their heads, and crack their skulls together so hard they cave in. Knocked out, they both crash into the ground, and I land like a cat between them bending deep at the knee. On my way up to standing, I stab them both through their backs to their hearts. Nick is there, waiting for me.

“That was new.”

“What was?”

“The flying.”

“Nah, I just jumped as high as I could and used the vampires to get more height. You should try it sometime.”

“Perhaps I will. Though I hope I have no cause to for we are but one day away from the City of Emeralds, and in that time it would be nice to come across no more vampires.”

“When the Werelion wakes up, we’ll be on our way. By tomorrow we’ll get there, if not by tonight. Then it’ll be over,” I say, and although I am trying to be encouraging, a tinge of sadness crosses his eyes, but then he offers me a smile that’s so cute it makes my chest tingle.

I will miss him, and Ardie, and the Werelion, but I can’t wait to get out of this terrifying realm. All I want is to see the Wizard and get home.

“Let me go get the holy water so we can disintegrate the bodies before Toto returns from his hunt. We wouldn’t want him licking any of their wounds,” Nick says, and the thought of that curdles my blood.

“Yeah, good idea,” I say, and he jogs off into the tree trunk.

As I watch him go, it strikes me how soon it will be that I will never see him again. Ardie and Werelion too. This strange and horrifying realm is a place I will never return to, and although it’s been an eerie and grotesque experience, it’s also been such an adventure. There’s so much about myself I’ve discovered.

From Nick, I’ve learned that first impressions aren’t everything, and that my body and my emotions aren’t easy for me to separate. From Ardie, I learned what it’s like to have a big brother protect you. Then there’s Werelion. Even though he sees himself as a coward, he’s been so brave, jumping over that gulf six times with each of us on his back, pulling us to shore in that harrowing river. Despite his anxiety, he faces every challenge. That’s true bravery. He is kind and sweet and good, but he’s also powerful, strong, and courageous. I want to be more like him.

Since I came to Oz, I have had one breakthrough after another. But the most significant is that in these last weeks I have come to terms with the loss of my parents after four years of sadness. I can’t erase the grief, or the anger, but I can stop hating an imaginary force that has loomed over me for too long. And because of all that, I have limited myself and my future with false beliefs. Now, when I return, I will open myself up to greater possibilities for the first time since I was in middle school. I don’t think I’ll stop being practical altogether—the civilized realm isn’t magical—but there were things I hesitated to want for fear of losing them. I won’t be that way anymore.

Nick emerges from the trunk, walks straight over to me, and drops holy water on the three vampire bodies I am near. After they deteriorate to ash, we walk back toward the tunnel entrance where the other vampires lie. Once we’ve disintegrated each one, the ashes of their soulless, undead bodies flitter away in the breeze, and we go back into the tunnels to wait at our sleeping Werelion’s side.

When I look around at the lamplit tunnel, I’m impressed but also somewhat irritated.

“There were tunnels this whole time, and we went through all that,” I say and shake my head.

“I did not know they were here. Most humans don’t.”

“Why not though?”

“Subterranean werebeasts live here.”

“The Queen said most friendlies use these tunnels. When she said friendlies, I thought she meant people who aren’t evil or soulless.”

“If I had known of the tunnels, I’d have used them. Before now, I met no one who knew of them. It is a well kept secret.”

“The Queen said the tunnels follow the yellow brick road. Maybe we can travel underground the rest of the way.”

“The road ends at the City of Emeralds. If the tunnel follows the yellow road, then it should take us right there. We will take the transport.”

“Transport?”

“Yes,” he says with an impish grin.

“What’s with that look?” I ask with a light laugh, amused by his boyish excitement.

“There is a transport that came by while you were asleep. It runs on magic.”

“Didn’t Werelion say only witches and wizards could siphon the magic from the land?”

“A witch or a wizard must have enchanted it. The magic seems powerful too. Perhaps it was the Wizard. Or it could have been Gayelette. Although she is not as powerful as the wizard, the yellow road ends in Munchkin Country and that is her territory. If it follows the yellow road, then it very well could be. With magic already in the land, perhaps it makes the spells even more powerful.”

“Maybe,” I shrug as Ardie and Toto return.

Ardie drags a headless animal with him that looks like it could be a wild boar.

“Werelion will need to eat when he wakes,” Ardie says as they come down the slope.

With a loud thud that echoes off the tunnel walls, Ardie drops the dead animal off a few yards away before he and Toto join us. Toto scampers over, jumping around, so proud. He may miss this place more than I will. For a feisty bloodhound mutt, hunting every day is a dream come true.

By nightfall, we may arrive at the City of Emeralds and my time in this magical land of monsters will end. Toto and I will miss our new friends, but we won’t miss the constant threats to our safety. I will miss magic though, and having these boots that make me strong, powerful, and fearless. I will miss my new friends, but I’ll be okay knowing they’re safe and happy living in the Vampire Free Zone. And after everything I’ve been though in this magical land of monsters, one thing I can be certain of is that when Toto and I return to the gray world we left on a cyclone, we will live a colorful, radiant life.

13

The Magical Transport to Emerald Station

High into the air like a terrified house cat, Werelion leaps with his back arched, fur standing on end, and lands with a vicious hiss. Startled out of my wits, a small scream escapes me as my armor covers me and my heart pounds fast and hard in my chest. When he sees Nick, Ardie, and I are the only ones here, he is instantly relieved. With a sigh, he lies back down and my armor falls back into my boots.

“I ran as fast as I could,” he says, curling up on the stretcher and yawning, “but the flowers were too strong for me. How did you carry me from the field?”

We tell him of the Wererats, and how they saved his life, and he giggles envisioning rat shifters carrying him around in his sleep. Watching him giggle makes me giggle. Soon we’re all giggling. Then Ardie ends our giggle fest with sensible thinking.

“There is a boar for you, Werelion, so you may eat and then we can go on our way. A magical transport shall arrive to take us to the City of Emeralds,” Ardie says with the same boyish gleam in his eyes Nick had.

“Magical Transport?” Werelion asks, no longer laughing. It’s clear he’s terrified as he takes up the end of his tail into his big front paws, his eyes widening in fear, his body trembling.

“Nick and I both saw it,” Ardie says with pride. “It is real, and it runs through these tunnels, under the yellow brick road.”

“Oh,” Werelion says, worry etched into his furry features.

“It is safe, Werelion,” Nick says.

“Are you sure?” Werelion asks, hopeful eyes lighting him up.

“Yes,” Nick says. Werelion smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. With a languorous yawn and a big stretch, he gets up, walks over to the dead boar, and eats.

Like a wild animal, snarling, crunching and cracking bones, Werelion rips away large areas of skin before tearing the flesh from the carcass with his teeth then gobbling it up. The sight of his ravenous devouring and the sounds it produces make my stomach wrench. Unable to watch, I busy myself with arranging my bag, and it’s a good thing we might make it there tonight because we are out of food and water.

“Perhaps we should gather ourselves now, for the speed with which he eats is like none I have ever seen. Soon enough he will finish, and we can go.” Nick says.

“Is there anywhere to get water down here?” We’re out and I haven’t drunk anywhere near enough water today.

“No, I checked,” Nick says.

“Soon we will get to the City of Emeralds and they will have all the food and water any of us could ever need,” Ardie says.

The Werelion finishes his boar faster than I thought possible and returns to us with a sated and bloody face. He curls right back up on the stretcher and gives himself a cat bath, licking his paws and wiping his face until he is all clean.

“How was the boar, Werelion?” Ardie asks.

“Delicious. I could have eaten ten. I must hunt soon for a more substantial dinner.”

Astounded any one being can consume so much, I ask, “How much do you eat in a day?” But I worry my question made him self-conscious because he cowers, and a soft pout takes over his furry face.

“I have a big appetite,” he says in a small voice.

“No, it’s not a criticism. I’m only amazed.”

“Deer is a more typical meal for me. A deer is much bigger than a boar.”

“That is true,” Ardie agrees.

“The boar was a nice change though. Tasty. A perfect snack.”

“If we leave now we might make it into the city tonight. Let us get moving,” Nick suggests as he stands, and the rest of us rise with him, standing and dusting off the dirt from the tunnel floor.

Nick and Ardie lead the way, entering a tunnel to the right of us. It leads to a platform above another tunnel that is much larger, wider, with higher ceilings, and runs perpendicular to where we stand.

“Which way do we go?” Werelion asks, already skittish.

“Neither—we wait here,” Ardie says.

The moment he finishes his sentence, a massive soap bubble, tinted green and enveloped by a glittering green mist floats in from one end of the tunnel. When it reaches the platform, it stops.

“Get in,” Nick says to me with an impish grin, his eyes glinting with boyish exhilaration.

“Where’s the door?”

“There is none. Enter like this,” Nick says as he steps right through the wall of the bubble. When the bubble closes behind him, he floats, weightless, and makes his way to the center.

Eager to try it out, I pick up Toto, my bag of weapons secure on my back, and step through the bubble wall. I expect it to feel like soap or maybe cling wrap, but instead it has no texture or temperature whatsoever. Weightless and light, I float toward Nick, and he catches me, putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him.

On the platform, Ardie drags a very reluctant Werelion into the bubble and they both float the moment they’re inside. Werelion’s mood morphs from fearful to gleeful in an instant. A big, ebullient smile beams as he floats about the bubble, his feline movements graceful and dancelike. As I watch him, so joyful, a giggle escapes me. Then the bubble rolls forward, and his joy reverts to fear, his eyes wide and searching, unsure of what happens next.

The bubble picks up speed, traveling down the large tunnel away from the platform, and as it hurtles forward it spirals, twirling over the ceiling, spinning to the ground, bouncing off the walls, insulated by the glittering green mist that seems to keep it from popping. Nick, Toto, and I are still and secure in the center, but Ardie and Werelion are closer to the bubble walls. Ardie quickly makes his way toward the center with us, but Werelion is too close. When his paws grip the translucent bubble wall, he spins with it, looping fast around us.

“Let go of the wall,” Nick calls to Werelion who sobs as he spins every which way.

“I can’t!”

“Move away from the wall!” Ardie calls to him.

“I can’t,” he bawls, growing more hysterical with each loop-de-loop.

The next time he flies by, Ardie jumps up, grabs his tail, and yanks him toward us. Out of the spin cycle, Werelion floats down to us, now crying with gratitude.

“Thank you! Oh, thank you, I owe you my life,” he says, being so dramatic, and I stifle a chuckle.

“You are safe now,” Nick says, suppressing a smile as he pats Werelion’s shoulder.

As we careen around this long dark tunnel in a lit up, translucent green bubble, Werelion collects himself with closed eyes and deep, calming breaths while the rest of us look on in awe.

Where dirt and plain brown rock lined the tunnels, now radiant green crystal is all we see. The pure emerald ground has a distinct, penetrative energy that pulses and glitters. A majestic, tingling caresses my skin before it enters my heart, warming my chest with pure delight.

Blissful rushes of green magic amplify the deeper beneath the surface we go. Swoops and dives floating up and down steep slopes, free-falling down sharp drops, we travel so far below ground it’s as though we’re voyaging into the heart of the land, and it lives and breathes and overflows with magic and love. When my eyes close in sublime beatitude, a kelly green vibrance permeates me, and I feel better than I’ve ever felt, like I’m aglow within.

“Dorothy,” Nick breathes beside me, and I open my eyes to his astonished face watching me.

“What?”

“Look at yourself,” he says, and I look down and see at the center of my chest I am glowing inside. A bright green light emanates from my breast bone at my heart. It should alarm me, but it doesn’t. There is nothing about this that feels wrong.

“The energy is magnificent. Can you feel it too?”

“Not like you.”

“Dorothy, you’re illuminated!” Werelion says, shocked.

“And it feels awesome.”

“That’s a good thing,” Werelion says with a sigh of relief.

“Those boots must collect magic,” Ardie says.

“Maybe.” The green glow travels through my body to my feet, proving Ardie right. But even though my heart is no longer lit, the sensation lingers.

The energy in the land is palpable and I am enjoying its effects. When I leave, I’ll miss the distinct feel of magic—a potent vibration made of emotions and epiphany and deep-rooted power. If I didn’t know the magic came from the land, I’d think it originated in DNA, in the basic blocks that make us up, because it runs so deep inside it deluges and whelms in waves of powerful splendor, and it feels right, like I’ve realized my natural state.

Through the cavern of deep green gems we float in our magical transport. When the bubble slows, Werelion let’s out a long breath.

“Are we here? Is this our stop?” Ardie asks, jittering with excitement.

The bubble comes to a full stop at the tunnel’s end—the only way to go from here is into the station or back to where we came from.

“This must be it,” Nick says, and we all float out of the bubble onto the platform. And then the bubble pops, disappearing to nothing once we all leave it.

The platform is made of pure emerald, smooth and illuminated, and it makes my boots buzz, vibrating the soles of my feet. The magic in the land here is strong.

With cautious steps, we walk through the cavern beyond the platform and into another junction. Just like the last station, there are corridors in every direction, but this one has a gleaming emerald staircase that shines under warm golden lights and leads up to what I assume is the City of Emeralds.

“That must be the exit to the city,” Ardie says, and we all walk over to the staircase.

The set of stairs goes one flight up to a landing. When we reach the landing, a gray and white shifter with a large black nose like a koala, ears like a koala, and large black claws like a koala sits on a stool in a kiosk by a gate before another set of stairs that leads to what I assume is the city. A green uniform of a short sleeved button-down collared shirt and green pants with a black belt swathes his portly body.

“Hello, and thank you for visiting Emerald Station,” says the koala shifter with a bright, warm grin on his cute koala face. “State your reason for entering the Land of Emerald.”

“Reason?” Ardie asks.

“Business or pleasure,” the shifter clarifies.

“Business,” Ardie says.

“Oh? What is your business here, and do you have the proper permits granted by the City of Emerald and its ruler, the Great and Terrifying Wizard of the Lands of Oz?”

“Not that sort of business,” Nick clarifies. “We are here to see the sights and speak to the Wizard. There is an important matter we must discuss with him.”

“Is he expecting you?” he asks, his koala eyebrows knitting.

“No, but—” Nick starts but the shifter cuts him off.

“Are you sure that Oz will see you?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” I ask.

“Because they say he lets no one come into his presence, and I do not know of any living person who has seen him.”

“Does he never go out?” asks Ardie.

“Never. They say he sits day after day in the great Hall of Mirrors his Palace and only interacts with the magical reflections of himself, and even those who wait upon him do not see him face to face.”

“Does anyone know what he looks like?” I ask.

“That is hard to tell. Oz is a Great Wizard, and can take on any form he wishes. Some say he looks like a bird. Some say he looks like an elephant. Others say he looks like a cat. Many say he appears as a beautiful fairy, or a brownie, or in any other form that pleases him. Who the real Oz is though, when he is in his own form, no living person can tell.”

“If that’s true we’ll have made our journey for nothing,” Werelion grumbles.

“Why do you wish to see the terrible Oz?” asks the man.

“So he may cure my zombiism and end my relentless need for brains. The hunger is torture,” says Ardie.

“Oh, Oz could do that,” declares the man before he turns to Nick and asks, “Why do you seek him?”

“I would like to relocate to the Vampire Free Zone,” says Nick.

“That will not trouble him,” continues the man, “for Oz has plenty of space available in the city. And you, shifter, what wish will you ask him to grant you?”

“Courage—I thought becoming a werelion would help me with my cowardice, but I was mistaken,” admits Werelion.

“Oz keeps a great pot of courage,” says the man, “which he has covered with a golden plate to keep it from running over. He will be glad to give you some,” he says and turns to me. “What do you wish to ask the Wizard for?”

“To send me back to Kansas,” I say.

“Where is Kansas?”

“In another realm.”

“Oz can do anything, so he will find Kansas for you. First you must get to see him though, and that will be a hard task, for the Great Wizard does not like to see anyone,” he says and looks down to Toto. “What do you want to ask Oz for?”

Toto wags his tail in response.

It’s clear we are not getting through without some pull, so I say, “Gayelette, the Slayer Witch of the North, told me to come and speak to him.”

“Dorothy here killed the Vampire Witch of the East. Those are the witch’s boots. Gayelette sent Dorothy here to address the Wizard. For that alone the Wizard would want to speak with her, so if we may go through,” Ardie says and Nick groans, annoyed by Ardie’s approach.

The Koala’s eyes go wide in what might be fear and then he looks at me.

“It was an accident. I’m not dangerous, I swear.” There must be something I can do to convince him we’re safe enough to let through. We can’t stop here. Not now, after everything it’s taken to get here. He shakes his head then speaks.

“You are Dorothy?” he says with a grave tone.

“Yes. Why do you say it like that?” I ask with an uncomfortable laugh.

“Because I have heard of you. The tunnels are abuzz with news of a powerful new sorceress entering this Land.”

“The Vampire Witch’s boots are the only magical thing about me. That’s part of the reason I need to see the Wizard. Can you please let us through?” I implore, and he shakes his head again.

“You may go but the gates to the city are closed to tourists at this hour, and the walk from here is long. There are farms but no one will answer after dark. I suggest you do not venture there now.”

“They shut the gates?” Ardie asks.

“Yes, only residents who have a passkey can get in, but most who do never leave. In the City of Emeralds, they have everything anyone could ever want or need. It is a grand and enchanting place. I went once. It’s beautiful.”

“You don’t live there?” Werelion asks with wide, curious eyes.

“Oh, no, we live underground. Many shifters do. I am about to close the gate for the night. Since you cannot gain entry to the city this evening, please come over for dinner. Though we do not have brains or enough to satisfy the Lion, there are many restaurants in the square, and we could feed the humans. We still eat as though we are human. Leaves do not satisfy our appetites. We crave them, but they are not enough,” he says with his tiny grin. “It will thrill my wife to meet Dorothy and her strange animal. As for your lodging for the night, we do not have room enough for all of you, but you may use our facilities, wash up, and then sleep in the guard house above ground. It is empty—we never use it. The tunnel’s magic is at its peak here, so we get little trouble.”

“Thank you, the guard house sounds perfect,” Nick says.

The shifter takes out wrist bands for re-entry and puts one on each of us. Disks of thin green crystal the size of a watch with bands of pure magic, made of nothing but shimmery green mist, wrap around our wrists.

“These transport passes are removable, but I suggest keeping them if you want to re-enter the tunnels. This band will gain you entry along the entire yellow brick tunnel and are good to have when traveling from Munchkin Country to the Land of Emerald and back.”

When we each thank him, he smiles but waves the gratitude away.

“Oh, you are welcome. It will thrill my wife you are here. Come back with me, all of you. After you’ve met my wife, I will show you the guard house. Then we will have dinner,” he says, brimming with so much cheer and enthusiasm it’s contagious.

A chime sounds and the shifter goes to his kiosk and presses a large, faceted emerald button rimmed in shiny copper. The green mist thickens, erecting a wall that cuts the tunnel off from the ground above.

“Now only those with passes will gain entry,” he says.

“Or exit,” Ardie adds.

“Well, yes, but many of us live in these tunnels. It is rare tourists take the transport to the end of the line here. You are the first I’ve seen in quite a long while.”

“No one travels here?”

“Oh, they do. Locals come and go, but you are the first tourists to come through in a long while, and most who do already have the entry passes.”

“I will keep mine. Thank you…” Ardie says and stops as though he wants to say more. “I am sorry, I do not recall your name.”

“There is nothing to recall for I never gave it to you, but my name is Ellis and my wife’s name is Tottie.”

“This is Dorothy, Nick, Werelion, Toto, and I am Millard, but please, call me Ardie.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” he says, and we follow him down the steps, into the junction, then veer right into another set of tunnels that leads into the underground town of Emerald Station.

After a hearty dinner and a bath, Ellis showed us to the guard house outside the station. It’s a cabin made of solid, thick wood, elevated above the ground about one-story high with a magical lift of green mist for what he also called, ‘friendlies.’ There are watch posts in each corner of the deck that surrounds the cabin, and inside there is a living room area that includes a small kitchen, one bathroom with a toilet and sink, and a bedroom with one full bed.

Ellis said goodbye and went back down into the station while we got ready for bed. Now, Toto lies down on the living room floor with Werelion curled up beside him. Ardie guards the door of the cabin from the living room and Nick and I take the bedroom. With only one bed, Nick settles into a chair. As I settle into the bed, it’s very obvious he’s uncomfortable as he twists and readjusts his position, still wearing all his armor.

“Come and share the bed.”

“I couldn’t,” he says, and I know I shouldn’t take offense but that stung.

“I won’t make any moves, I promise. This bed will be far more comfortable than that hard chair. Come on. It’s big enough for both of us to have a good night’s rest. And take off all that armor. Ardie will let us know if anyone is coming. You should have enough time to put it all back on if we get attacked.”

After a moment of pensive apprehension, he stands, takes off his armor and weapons, then his shoes, and gets in beside me.

“Perhaps I should sleep atop the bedding—” Nick starts, and I stop him.

“Nick, it’s fine! I won’t try anything. We’re friends, right?”

“Yes, we are.”

“You’ve already had your tongue in my mouth, your hands in my pants—it’s fine,” I laugh and roll my eyes at him. “What is with the proper act? Relax.”

“I… I only want to show you the respect you deserve, Dorothy, and I know I haven’t shown it since we met, but I have the utmost respect for you, and I need you to know it,” he avers.

“I do, and I appreciate it. Now get over here and cuddle up. I’m freezing,” I tell him. There is no fire place here and the nights in Oz have proven to be cold. These sheets and blankets are thin, and the cold is bitter tonight.

He scoots closer, wrapping his arms around me from behind, spooning me like that night in his cabin. Despite how much I want him to kiss me, I know he won’t. And I sure as hell won’t throw myself at him. He’s made it clear he doesn’t like me like that, but he likes me enough not to use me, so if I did try and kiss him, he’d just turn me down. Why embarrass myself? It’s pointless.

Nick could have his pick of women, and has. I’ve only had one boyfriend. A relationship I only had because there weren’t too many people around to choose from. Billy’s farm was next to ours and he’d pick me up for school. There wasn’t much to do other than make out and hook up and look at the stars. Neither of us were distraught over our break up. He was going off to school, and that was that. It was over and we were both cool about it. No tears, no nothing. Just a hug and a smile, then he left. I suppose we understood that if he returned and I hadn’t left Kansas and he hadn’t found another girl, ending up together for lack of choices was a strong possibility. But that would be the only reason that would happen. Not because we loved each other or anything. Not because he loved me and would miss me and needed to have me.

Before, I never imagined anyone loving me that way, so I never thought about it as a possibility, but now I think I’d like to have that. I’d like to have a guy like Nick love me, but one who has a heart, who would want me back, who could fall in love with me and think I’m special, even if I’m not.

Now that I’ve had this adventure, now that I’ve done something so absurd and terrifying, maybe I’m a little special. No one would believe it though. They’d think I was nuts or making it up. If I tell anyone I’ll end up in an asylum or something. If I have to give the boots to the wizard, I’ll have no proof at all. The only one who’ll know is Toto, and he can’t talk to confirm my story. So, this crazy adventure will be my secret.

Even though the one thing that makes me special will be something I cannot share, maybe it will give me an air of mystery and someone like Nick will fall in love with me. What’s most likely though is that I’ll meet an average guy who matches my averageness, perhaps in college, or at my average job, or some online dating app or website will match us up. We’ll date, and after we’ve dated for a certain period, it’ll be logical for us to get more serious. Sometimes we’ll fight, but we’ll get along well enough, and we won’t want to be alone forever, so we’ll get engaged, then married, then we’ll have kids. Maybe we’ll stay together or maybe we’ll get divorced. That will be my life. Average job, average husband, average relationship, average life. But I will tell my kids this story. I will remember it and keep it always, knowing it makes me special to have come here on a cyclone, and to have met these wonderful friends who I will miss forever. Just thinking of never seeing them again makes me teary. I hug Nick’s arms wrapped around me, holding them to my chest as I cry.

“Dorothy? Are you all right?” he asks concerned.

“Yeah,” I croak out.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, concern heavy in his tone.

“I’m just going to miss you, all of you, when I go back to my life in Kansas,” I say through tears as he holds me.

“Oh, Dorothy, I will miss you too, but Kansas is far safer for you. It is better for you to go back to your realm.”

“I know it’s safer, that I have to go back, that I need to go back to tell my family I’m alive. There’s a year left of school and I want to finish. I just hate the thought of never seeing you or Ardie or Werelion again. Although I can’t say I hate the thought of never having to kill another vampire,” I say and roll over, turning to face him.

He smiles at me and I smile back even though I’m crying.

“Toto will miss hunting with Ardie. I’m not about to start hunting though.” He wipes the tears from my eyes with the pads of his thumbs as a winsome grin plays on his lips. I will miss his beautiful face. Tears fill my eyes again at the thought of never seeing that smile after tomorrow. As he gazes into my teary eyes, his grin disappears and his eyes fill with pity. “And I’ll miss all those ladykiller smiles of yours,” I say with a laugh and a look of shock takes over his face.

“Lady killer? I’ve only ever killed a bitten woman—”

“It’s an expression in my realm. It means handsome,” I tell him with a light laugh through my tears. His smile returns, and the constricting band around my heart loosens.

The tears stop as he wipes away their last remnants from my cheeks with his fingertips. He strokes my cheek with his thumb and the desire to kiss him is overwhelming. When he leans in, my heart jumps into my throat in desperate anticipation. But right when I think he’ll do it; he kisses my forehead instead.

We’re just friends now, and I appreciate his sincerity. And I’m also leaving, forever. I take a deep breath, refusing to cry again.

There’s a light scratching on the door and I know it’s Toto. He must sense I’m sad. He always knows when I’m down. Werelion opens the door to the bedroom for him, and when he sees the tears in my eyes he hurries over, concern pinching his furry face.

“Dorothy! What’s wrong?” the Werelion asks as Ardie charges in.

“What did you do?” Ardie challenges Nick.

“Nothing!” Nick says throwing his arms up in defense.

“I’m just sad. I’ll miss you guys when I leave,” I admit.

“Oh! Dorothy, we’ll miss you too,” Ardie says and comes over, sitting beside me on the bed.

I sit up and he hugs me tight. My arms wrap around his torso and I hug him back. The Werelion comes over, sits on the bed, and wraps us both in his large lion-shifter arms. Toto follows, jumping up on the bed and edging his way to my side to lick my chin. Even though this is such a nice moment, I’m still so sad. I’ve grown to care so much for these three guys and I will miss them.

Since my parents passed, I’ve made few significant connections with people. Billy was my only real friend and when he left, it was no big deal. But this, this is painful. This is the first time in a long time I’ve made such strong connections.

“Don’t go! Stay, Dorothy, please stay,” the Werelion says, crying too.

“No, she has to go. It’s not safe for her here. Kansas is safe. And it’s her home. If her home is safe, then that is where she should be even if it’s hard for us,” Nick says.

“He’s right. We’ll miss you but Kansas is your home, and you’ll be safe there. This realm is riddled with vampires, and zombies nowhere near as nice as me, and werebeasts nowhere near as nice as Werelion.”

“I know I need to go, but I will miss you all so much, always,” I say through tears. Toto whimpers along with me, sad to leave them too.

We all cuddle until we fall asleep, except for Ardie because he can’t sleep at all. Tomorrow will be my last day with them, and I will cherish every moment we have left together.

14

The Guardian of the Gate

The sun rises as we emerge from the copse of trees hiding Emerald Station. The yellow brick road lies just outside the woods, but somehow, we’ve gotten turned around. None of us can tell which way we came from.

After a minute of deliberation, Nick points toward a beacon of radiant green fog in the distant sky and says, “That must be the Emerald City.” So we turn right and head down the road toward the mystical shimmer on the horizon.

The brilliance of the city intensifies as we travel on and the magic that swells from the city and dissipates into the ether comes further into focus the nearer we draw. Misty sparkles and little green bubbles lift into the sky as though the city itself is effervescing.

Grand estates surrounded by magnificent gates formed of natural emerald crystals carved into intricate designs line the road to the city. Some estates’ gates are clean and sleek while flowering vines wrap around the crystal bars of others, and some stand against high emerald green hedges manicured with rigor. At many of the estates we pass, elaborate topiaries and sculptures of shifters—werewolves, birds with human legs, bipedal rabbits in suits and gowns—decorate the paths to the gate doors.

Just like Munchkin Country where everything is shades of blue, in the Land of Emerald, everything is shades of green. Kelly green grass surrounds Seafoam farmhouses. Spring green vines with colorful flowers coil around tall absinthe gates. Virescent mansions three and four stories high have grand crystal doors of mint and lime and olive with intricately carved chartreuse tinted windows.

In Munchkin Country, the buildings are all domes, but here all the structures are hexagonal and look as though they’re made from emeralds the size of buildings. It’s like they sculpted the homes and structures on these grand estates from large crystals that grew from the ground, etching out the insides of the massive stones to make rooms with doors and windows, perhaps even plumbing. Some have pointed roofs, but some are flat or angled, and all appear to have a contemporary aesthetic. They’re like elegant modern mansions made of sleek green gems.

Everything I’ve seen in Oz so far has looked as though it’s out of the eighteen hundreds, but this place is like nothing I’ve ever encountered. The individuals we pass—in their homes or working their fields, most of whom are shifters—seem to pay us no mind.

The road has more people on it than anywhere I’ve been in Oz so far. Most of them push carts loaded with barrels or produce. There are a few ahead pulling their carts toward the city, and a few shifters with empty carts have passed us going back the other way. A shifter centaur—a man with a human torso and a stallion’s body—pulls an empty cart toward us. We move to the far side of the road so he can pass.

“Hello,” he says to me and grins. He’s got a gorgeous upper body–sinewy, sculpted, broad—and his face is just as remarkable with perfect straight teeth and a strong jaw, warm brown eyes, olive skin, and thick black waves to his jawline. His lower half is like a Murgese with pitch black horse hair to the hooves. He is a striking image, like something out of a Greek myth.

“Hello,” I reply with a polite smile.

“Where are you headed?” he asks me. The subtle raise of his brow and a suggestive wink make my eyes widen. Nick tenses, and so does Ardie.

“Please,” Ardie scoffs. “What can you even do with her with that thing,” he says, pointing to his lower half, and I giggle. “You’d maim her.”

“I think she could handle me,” the centaur says, and I guffaw.

“Are you saying you think I have a big—”

“Keep walking,” Werelion growls at him, cutting me off, and the centaur’s eyes widen before he turns his head and trots away.

“He was ridiculous,” Ardie snorts, making me giggle more. “How would that even work?” he says, and I’m belly laughing again.

“Well,” Werelion starts, “it’s not impossible. It would depend on her… anatomy,” he finishes, growing timid and I guffaw again.

“Can we not, please?” Nick says with a shudder and quickens his pace, striding up ahead of us.

“Someone’s cranky,” Ardie whispers to me with a smirk on his lips.

“I marvel as to why,” Werelion says, laden with sarcasm, then snorts a laugh at his own little joke. I’m not sure I get it.

“Why?” I ask, and Werelion looks at me wide eyed as if I should know.

“He likes you,” Werelion murmurs so Nick can’t hear.

“Not as more than a friend. Believe me. He told me as much.”

“He did?”

“Yes, multiple times,” I say with a light laugh.

“Huh,” Werelion says, thinking it over for a moment, then he shrugs.

“He is heartless, interested in her body and nothing more, an insatiable philanderer who cannot help himself,” Ardie says, his voice low.

“That’s not true. He hit on me before he knew me. Now he knows me, and he just wants to be friends. He’s controlling himself just fine. He’s a perfect gentleman.”

“Does that bother you?” Werelion asks with a mischievous simper and a smile plays on my lips.

“A little,” I admit, and he giggles.

“Enough gossiping like twelve-year-olds. Pick up the pace,” Nick says from ten feet ahead of us, having heard every word. Chagrined, I blush and stop talking as I quicken my step.

The closer we get to the radiant city, the deeper it sinks in—my time with my three new friends will soon be over. In a matter of hours, I will go home to Kansas, and I will never see them again. Ardie will become a living man again and I won’t be there to share a meal of cooked food with him. The Werelion will get some of that courage from the Wizard’s pot and grow so confident he’ll become king of all the shifters. Nick will have a heart again and meet a lovely, charming girl to marry and start a family with. And I won’t be here to see any of it.

Even though I’ll miss them, I have to go home. I will not be a high school dropout, and I wanted to leave my aunt and uncle’s anyway, go to college in the east, or abroad even, travel the world, meet all different sorts of people. Yes, that takes money I don’t have, but I want to.

There are so many things I never got to try. Life doesn’t have to be boring in my realm. Plenty of adventures are there waiting for someone to have them. I always planned on being one of those people who has those adventures. They may never be as adventuresome as my time here, but they can still be remarkable experiences, and they won’t involve the undead or shifters or vampires trying to feed off me. There’ll be no witches or wizards or munchkins or blood everywhere. Just living human beings, some nice and kind, some not nice or kind at all, perhaps even monstrous in their cruelties, but they will still be just humans, and as far as I can see, that’s a huge plus. My realm is where I belong, and my three dear friends belong here in this bizarre place.

Although this is how it must be, I’m grateful to have come here, that I got to know them, and that I got to be their friends. I will remember them and this place forever. It will haunt my dreams and my nightmares for as long as I live.

By the afternoon, we come to the great wall that surrounds the City of Emeralds. It’s high and thick and bright green, and at its center is a green crystal door studded with deep green emeralds that glitter in the sun. The glinting of the jewels and the effervescing mist that rolls off the rampart and over the surrounding land is so bright, even heartless Nick’s brilliant green eyes dazzle.

There is a large emerald button in a copper setting beside the door, so I push it. A silvery bell tinkles.

Nick turns to Ardie and says, “Please do not start in with how Dorothy killed the Vampire Witch. Let me do the talking,” and Ardie scoffs at him.

“The Wizard needs to know so he will not turn us away.”

“People resent it when you elevate your status above theirs as though you are so important they mustn’t dare deny or cross you. It only makes them want to show you your place.”

“I do not do that,” Ardie says, offended, his chin rising in indignation.

“You do though.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.

“That’s absurd.”

“You did with Ellis,” Nick reminds him as the door slides open.

We all pass through into a high arched room with glinting walls covered in countless emeralds. Inside, before another grand doorway with a large emerald button, stands an old man with long white hair and a long white beard. He’s a touch taller than a Munchkin and wears ornate copper rimmed green goggles with all green clothing from his hat to his shoes. Elaborate shimmering green swirls and glittering green shapes decorate his face. The lines are meticulous and I wonder if he did it himself. It takes a painstaking eye and a very steady hand to create that look.

At his side is a large chest that glints in the light, so many tiny emeralds set close together on the chest’s covering it looks as though it’s painted with emerald dust. Amid the pavé, faceted emeralds and polished cabochons with engraved copper settings intermingle in intricate mandala-like emblems, each stone positioned with exactitude. Decorative copper corners, edges, and hinges with ornate embellishments of whirls and stars border the trunk while stamped copper filigree and rosettes frame the glittery mandalas.

“State your reason for visiting the Emerald City.”

“We came here to see the Great Wizard,” I tell him. His eyes widen and he says nothing, stunned silent.

“It has been many years since anyone asked me to see Oz,” he says after a long pause, shaking his head in perplexity.

“Oz, did you say? Because we’re here to see the Wizard. I’ve seen enough of Oz already.”

“Oz is the Wizard’s name as it is the name of the lands. Another sign of how great his power is,” Ardie tells me.

“Oz is the most powerful and terrible. If you come on an idle or foolish errand to bother the wise reflections of the Great Wizard, he might become incensed and destroy you all in an instant of fury.”

“Ours is not a foolish errand, nor an idle one,” replies Ardie; “it is important. We must see him. And it is said that Oz is a good Wizard.”

“So he is,” says the green man. “Wise and scrupulous, he rules the Emerald City with his greatness and his magic, striking fear into vampires, keeping the undead in line,” he says, looking right at Ardie. “For those who are dishonest, or who dare to approach him from curiosity, he is the most terrible. Few have ever dared ask to see his face. The Wizard does not take well to audacious bluster, and neither do I.”

“Lucky for us you’re just the doorman,” I snap, shocking myself. Why did I say that?

“There is a rule of this city. Face me, and only then may you dare to lay your unworthy eyes on him. Perhaps you would like to turn yourselves around and go before it gets worse for you,” he says, making his threat clear.

Fury swells in my throat and I do my best to fight the words struggling to break free from my lips because they won’t help us. “Are you going to let us through or not?” I blurt, and although it’s nowhere near as bad as what I wanted to say, my body still goes taut with bellicose tension, and my eyes still narrow, shooting daggers at him.

“Very fine. Wait here. I will notify him you have come demanding to see him,” he says, a smug smirk on his green sparkle face.

Possessed by my boots, I reach over and smudge his makeup with my index finger. I look at it, pressing my thumb to my finger and rubbing the greasy glitter paint between the pads. When I look up, I see the large smear I made on his surprised face.

“You got a smudge, twinkles,” I say, pointing at it with the lazy finger that’s covered in the makeup I smeared.

Why did I do that?

With a humph, he turns toward another small door on the opposite wall, but before he can step through, I say, “Tell him Dorothy is here to see him, sent by Gayelette the Slayer Witch. She said he could help. I killed the Vampire Witch of the East when I arrived in this realm. These are her boots on my feet.” Why am I speaking? Why can’t I shut up? They’ll never let us in now.

His eyes widen behind his green goggles before he slips away through the door, leaving us in the brilliant emerald room.

“Wonderful. They will leave us locked in this room forever,” Nick says with a groan and sits down on the floor as if he knows we will be in here for too long.

“Forever?” Werelion says with worry etching its course onto his fuzzy face.

“No, they will not,” Ardie grumbles.

“They will leave us here a very long while, hoping we might leave. I suggest you get comfortable,” Nick sighs.

“I’m sorry, guys. I don’t know why I acted like that or said those things.”

As I take a seat against the emerald wall, I let out a sigh. The moment my back touches the stone, a warm, soothing energy flows into me and oscillates, finding rhythm with my breath. It’s empowering, revitalizing, and my body relaxes, my breathing evens out, and I let it take me over.

Power pulsates through me. The clouds of gray that roil inside me—the cyclone of discontent and fury that took root long before one swept me away—fade as confidence and wrath take its place. A force permeates me, and I feel stronger than I have ever felt, like I could crush all my enemies with a single flick of my finger.

An ease washes over me, and I know from somewhere deep inside me that there’s nothing to fear. No matter what, it will be fine. Oz will see me, and I will get home. If I have to scale the walls of this city, so be it.

Unlike the magic of the boots, the feeling this emerald wall gives me as I lean against it is magical, powerful, but it’s still me, not an object using me as a puppet.

“Those boots are controlling you. The way you broke his adornment…” Nick says and shakes his head. “You do not know the significance of this because you are not from here, but your boots do, and it was bold. Bolder than you intended to be.”

“Dorothy, is it true you did not know?” Ardie asks.

“What, that he was wearing makeup? I think it was obvious with that glittery paint all over him.”

“It is a symbol of his status, his rank, and you broke it, sullied it. It was a direct insult,” Nick explains.

“Great,” I groan and sigh.

“Those boots know it. They are controlling you.”

“It’s true. I was willing myself to shut up, but I couldn’t. I held back though. Not enough I guess.”

“You need to get those boots off your feet.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I snort, and Nick huffs out a laugh.

We fall into silence as we sit and wait. Ten minutes pass before Ardie groans, growing impatient.

“Small, enclosed spaces make me feel like I can’t breathe,” Werelion says, his brows drawn together, clutching his knees to his chest as he sits on the slick emerald floor.

“That is unfortunate, for I expect we will be here a while,” Nick says, sitting up against an emerald pavé column that sparkles behind him. He sits back getting comfortable, raising his elbows and leaning his head back into his clasped hands, a perfect picture of resignation. I follow his lead and stretch my legs out before me as I lean back on the rough emerald wall.

An hour passes, and another. Perhaps more. Ardie distracts himself by playing with Toto, Werelion focuses on his breathing, Nick pretends to sleep, and I focus on trying to contain my anger. This is so rude. Fine, so I was rude to him, but I have magic boots and I killed an evil vampire witch. He should be afraid of me. He doesn’t know I’m not a sorceress. Everyone else thinks I am. And this guy just leaves us in here for hours? No. Disrespectful and plain rude is what he is.

Before I know what’s happening, I’m up on my feet storming over to the door to the city. When I’m a few feet away, I stop, reel back, and kick it. Hard. Nick’s eyes shoot open as I kick it again.

“Dorothy,” Ardie gasps.

“I can’t take it anymore! How dare that little glittery dickhead leave us here this long without a damn word,” I growl out, kicking the door again and again as I say it, each bang louder and more resonant than the last, vibrating the room we are in. I don’t know if they can hear it on the other side of this wall, but I kick the door again anyway.

“Open this door!” I yell, my voice echoing off the emerald walls of the tiny room they’ve stuck us in. “Ugh!” I roar in frustration, startling Werelion, and he cries. “I’m sorry, Werelion,” I say and let out a frustrated breath, trying to calm down, but it’s not working.

Nick leans back and closes his eyes again, unbothered. It’s annoying as hell.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” I snap, staring straight at him. He opens his eyes and looks at me. “Wake the hell up and do something about this. Oh, and lose the smug attitude. We all know you said not to say anything, but I did, okay? My boots control me. Ooh,” I say, losing my composure altogether. “I’m evil now because I have evil footwear that makes me say stupid crap. Fine! Doesn’t change the facts of the situation.”

“And what facts are those?” Nick asks, his voice even, and just enough hint of an I-told-you-so it pisses me off even more.

“That we’re sitting in a ten by ten room for the rest of our lives,” I shout at him, and he holds himself back from laughing in my face. My eyes narrow at him as I go for the door we came in through. Nick sits up straighter.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To scale this wall, find another way in, something,” I say and press my hand to the button, hoping the door will slide open, but it doesn’t. I do it again. Nothing. Again. Still doesn’t budge. We’re trapped.

“It won’t open. They’ve trapped us in here,” I growl, charge the door to the city, and kick it again. This time a prismatic light scintillation bursts from where I make contact, shaking the wall. The ground rumbles as the wall shudders. Werelion bawls as I kick the wall once more and the rumble reverberates through the entire room. Everything quakes. Distant screams muffled through the wall reach my ears as Nick shouts and Toto howls.

“Dorothy! Stop!”

What am I doing? I step back and still myself.

After a moment the quaking stops and the screams fade. Nick and Ardie let out a sigh of relief. Werelion’s bawling sobs taper away to whimpers. Toto quiets and I take deep breaths to calm my overwhelming frustration.

The door to the city bursts open and the Guardian of the Gate charges in, an enraged sneer on his glittery face.

“What is wrong with you?” he roars at me.

“How dare you take so long,” I seethe, trying to contain the rage inside me.

“Do you think it is easy for me to speak to the Wizard? Do you think I walk over to the palace, knock on the door, and he answers? ‘Oh, hello again, Rufus. Come in. What can I do for you today?’ ‘There are some people at the door asking to see you.’ ‘Are they? Well, welcome them in. We’ll have a parade!’ Idiots. He is the Wizard. He runs all of Oz. There is a process. You need not take down the walls to the city and terrify everyone inside.”

“Never keep me waiting again.”

My logical brain is telling me to apologize, to shut the hell up, but I speak before I even think. These boots do control me. My emotions, my behavior, my body, even my thoughts, and I’m scared they’ll take me over if I don’t get them off soon. Now they only take control when I’m angry or defending myself, but their power over me has been ever increasing and I worry it’s only a matter of time before they rule me altogether. The Wizard is my only hope to get these boots off my feet and get me back to my realm where I won’t need the boots at all. Then I can be just me again. Just plain Dorothy.

“You demand to see the Great Oz, so I am required to ask him if he will see you. That takes time.”

“Will he?” Ardie asks.

“Perhaps,” he says with a gleeful, sinister grin. “Not today though. He is a very busy Wizard, and you have come unannounced. If we grant you entry, I will take you to his Palace where they will attend to your needs until he can see you. Now you must put on the spectacles.”

“Spectacles? Why?” I ask.

“Because if you do not wear the spectacles, the brightness and glory of the Emerald City and the power of the Wizard will be unknown to you. Even those who live in the City wear spectacles to witness of the immensity of the Wizard’s power and remember what a blessing it is to set foot behind these walls. It will be good for you to know, however powerful a witch you may believe yourself to be, Oz is far more powerful,” he says with a smug grin.

“Oh, is he?” I say with a suppressed snort, and his eyes narrow, but I see the twinge of fear hiding in the wings while his pride and ego take center stage.

“By far, he is. When the Wizard arrived in Oz, he proclaimed this city to be made, and it was made. Made by magic. It grew from the ground, palace and all, with roads, and shops, and homes, and magical luxuries never imagined. The walls of the city rose with it to protect us from the evil that plagues this land,” he says, his eyes narrowing on me, making his opinion of me plain. All because I smeared his makeup, which I see he has fixed.

“When the other witches came to challenge him, his power erupted from the center of the city in an enormous geyser of his magic and thrust them back for good, making this city the only safe place in the realm. There is a reason I am the protector of its borders—the Guardian of the Gates. I could destroy you, but the Wizard could demolish you with nothing more than a thought to do so. When you cross him, he will crush you,” he says and smiles, excited to see the Wizard annihilate me.

“His magic pours over the city as proof of his power. A magic so strong, he uses it to run this entire city day and night. Once you come inside, his magic, his terrible power, is inescapable, but before you can enter, you must pass through me.”

An evil, glimmering grin emerges on his wrinkled, glittery face, slow and menacing.

“I will kill you if I must,” I blurt, surprising myself with words I had no plan to say.

He beams his sinister grin and steps toward me. It seems like he might get in my face but instead he shoves his trunk at me.

“These spectacles are a gift from the Wizard—they will help you see what is coming for you, and you can witness his greatness as you die,” he says as he opens the big emerald box filled with green lens goggles.

“Wow, and all because I smudged your makeup.”

His eyes flare along with his nostrils and a snicker escapes me.

“I will enjoy this next part,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk.

“What is that?” Ardie asks.

Without an answer, he thrusts the box forward, commanding us to take a pair.

I don’t blame him for hating us. I’m being rude and disrespectful and mean. Yes, I don’t like this man. Yes, he is obnoxious, and to leave us here for so long locking us in a room in a fifty-foot-thick emerald wall is all kinds of messed up. If he tries to hurt me or my friends, if I have to kill this man, I will, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to kill anyone or anything ever again if I can help it. But I need to see the Wizard. He’s my only hope to get home and get these boots off my feet. Whatever I must do to make that happen—including kill this guy—I’ll do, but only if I have no other option. My boots don’t control me so much just yet that I have no control over whether I murder someone.

Murder. I’ve killed plenty of zombies and vampires this past week, but I haven’t killed a human, and the thought of it nauseates me.

I can’t do it. Even if it means I stay and these boots take me over. I’ll become an evil sorceress like the vampire witch who wore them before me, but at least I won’t be a murderer.

I turn my attention to the glasses. Green and copper goggles of all shapes and sizes, some elaborate and outlandish with twirling decorations and large convex lenses in odd shapes, fill the chest. When Werelion picks a pair that fit him well, I realize the ones with strange frames and lenses are for shifters. There are some for human shaped heads that are simple and understated, and some that have ornate embellishments. One pair stands out to me. They’re beautiful with intricate copper filigree, copper rosettes, and a feminine aesthetic. I pick it up and examine it.

“Are those green lenses?” I ask.

“We make them out of the emerald from the Enchanted Hollow.”

“Enchanted Hollow?”

“Yes, the site of where the Wizard’s power burst forth when the witches challenged him—we call it the Enchanted Hollow. It is quite a sight to see. Now, it is the place from where the Wizard’s magic flows to run the city and keep the peace.”

“Where is it?” Ardie asks.

“At the very center of the city lies the hollow. A railing surrounds it, so you cannot fall in, but if you did, the Wizard’s magic would pick you up and set you on your feet again. If he wanted you to survive it, that is. Although, once you enter the city, you will be at the mercy of his power. The magic from the hollow could very well swallow you up altogether. He is that powerful.”

I lift the pretty goggles and put them over my eyes, clicking them into place. Everything is even more green than it was, but now I can see the green mist running through the emerald wall that houses this room. Magic courses through what look like veins in the deep green crystal, streams of glinting illumination flowing through it in thin, concentrated lines, rushing in every direction.

“Those fit you fine,” the Guardian of the Gates says without looking at me while passing the box to Nick and Ardie.

After rummaging through the box for a few seconds they each come up with a pair of goggles for themselves. They both put them on and somehow Nick makes them look hot, while Ardie looks hilarious. He picked a pair with multiple lenses he can flip up and down. He tests them out, flipping and clicking, going back and forth between the lenses.

“I will take those,” the Guardian of the Gate snaps as he snatches the goggles off Ardie’s face.

“You are a nasty person,” Ardie admonishes with an indignant humph.

“You are an irritating zombie,” he snaps back, and Nick lets out a quiet snicker. “Put these on.” The Guardian shoves another pair at Ardie, who takes the goggles but with narrowed eyes.

The Guardian reaches in and finds a tiny pair of goggles, crouches down, and puts them on Toto who lets him do it without a struggle. Toto is not a clothes-wearing dog. Any time I’ve dressed him for the rain, he howls and runs away barking his plight over the horrors of having to wear clothing. When I get his rain outfit on him after a long struggle, I swear he gets embarrassed. He doesn’t want to leave the house, and he hides from people, ducking his head when someone looks his way. But these goggles he doesn’t seem to mind. That might be the most shocking thing I’ve seen today.

The Guardian of the Gates adjusts his own glasses and walks over to the gateway to the city. When he raises his palm to the faceted emerald button on the wall beside it, a magical dial that wasn’t visible before appears around the button in light.

Three rings made up of various symbols in a kaleidoscope of luminosity encircle the jewel. With a twisting wrist, the Guardian turns it to the right. A distinct chime rings for each symbol as it passes the magical marker and lights up green. The soft tintinnabulation of the dial as it ticks along tickles my ears.

As each symbol lights up in succession, it pulls my vision like a powerful magnet. Whatever he is doing, the magic behind it is strong.

When the jewel lands in the desired spot, only one glowing emerald symbol in the ring, he pushes the palm-sized button before turning the jewel in the opposite direction. The symbols in the second ring light up the same way as the first, and when the light settles on a single symbol, he pushes again and turns the button back the other way.

What is this that it has so many options? The possible combinations are immense. When he settles on a single symbol in the third ring, he pushes the button a third time, and the gate slides open.

We follow him through the doorway into another emerald room. When the gate slides closed, the walls light up with green sparks, and the entire room jerks. As Toto barks, I steady myself on my feet and Werelion plasters himself to the wall.

“What is this?” Nick asks, suspicion narrowing his eyes as he places one hand on the wall closest to him.

“You will see soon enough,” the Guardian replies with that sinister grin I realize irritates me to no end.

Although we are in an enclosed room with no windows and an overwhelming green light that surrounds us from all sides, I can feel we are moving, fast.

The room tilts, goes up an incline, then evens out again. It seems to fly through turns, veering this way and that, until it slows to a stop.

The door slides open and we follow the old man out of the room into an enclosed hexagonal space surrounded by people sitting in bleachers. Some still filter into rows holding concessions in green containers as they take their seats. As I look around, I realize we’ve stepped out into the center of an arena. The door we came in from disappears, and so does the Guardian.

“What the—” I start but stop short when the Guardian appears at one end of the hexagonal arena holding a long staff. He raises his arms and the people in the stands cheer.

“Battle for entry,” booms through the arena when the words appear written in light overhead. The people cheer louder.

“What is happening?” Werelion whimpers.

The Guardian steps forward and the ground we stand on turns, giving the spectators a view from all sides.

“What’s happening?” Werelion cries, growing more terrified as we rotate, or the seats rotate around us. I’m not sure which; it’s disorienting.

A countdown clock appears below the ‘Battle for Entry’ sign overhead, counting down from twenty.

The Guardian’s malice sodden stare as he squares off, the signage over our heads, spectators… It’s a boss battle. Like in the hours of video games I played with Billy. He liked them, so I played many, often, and this is a boss battle if I ever saw one. To get to the next level in a game, or the next world, or in this case to gain entry to this city, we have to fight this guy and win. I bet he’s fierce, but between the four of us, we should be able to take him out quick.

The clock is now at eleven and the Guardian raises his staff. As the gem on its end irradiates, growing so bright it’s hard to look at, the people cheer. He slams the staff into the ground and grows to the size of a building, stories high, the green mist swirling around him, pouring off of him. If intimidation is what he’s going for, it’s working. I’m a peon next to this guy. He could just stomp me, and I’d be dead.

“Holy crap,” I blurt, the clock now at seven.

“How in the realm are we going to defeat him?” Ardie scoffs.

“We should run,” Werelion whimpers with urgency.

“Maybe Werelion is right,” Ardie says.

“Dorothy must get back to Kansas,” Nick says.

“There must be another way. This is suicide. I may live, but you three…” Ardie says and trails off.

“In every boss battle, no matter how big or scary the enemy is, there’s always a way to beat him. We just have to find out what that is.”

“What’s a boss battle?” Ardie asks.

“This,” I say.

“How do we beat him?” Werelion asks with a trembling lip on his worry lined face.

“We find his weakness.”

Hostile bongs ring out. Nick pulls two axes from his chest as my armor covers all of me except my face. The crowd gasps.

“Werelion, take Toto and stay out of the fray. Please, keep him safe,” I say. He shakes out a meek nod and picks Toto up.

“Fight,” the unseen voice shouts, and the crowd roars.

The Guardian wastes no time. In an elaborate swirling motion, he swings his staff at us. A beam of green mist and glittering neon light shoots out as it nears. We all jump back in unison, narrowly dodging the strike.

With another twirl of his staff, a thick bolt of green lightning shoots right at me as an image of a giant shield flashes into my mind. In that instant, my armor creates what I envisioned—an enormous silver shield grows from my sternum in a blink, deflecting the bolt, shooting it back at him, but he blocks it with his staff before it strikes.

As he spins his staff in fluid flips and twirls, he flips and twirls along with it. Like little shooting stars falling all around him, green sparks envelops him as he moves, trailing their light as they follow him through spins and whirls. He glows, the green light around him growing so bright it becomes blinding. My suit covers my goggles with goggles of its own before it grows a shield that will cover the entire group right as he releases the power he just gathered.

A geyser of potent magic drives into us, the force of it so strong I slide back a yard as I fight against it. Nick and Ardie hold my shoulders, helping me to stay standing and keep us protected, but we still get pushed back. Werelion, with Toto in his arms, places his back to my back and stands his ground, immovable. Together, we fight the force of this never-ending blow that is still charging out at us with no indication it will end soon.

“What is this weakness you say he has?” Nick says with a grunt as we struggle to stay upright.

“One bite from me and he’s done for,” Ardie says.

“Or he is just more impossible to defeat,” Nick scoffs. “We would need to use the two-minute window where the change occurs to execute him. After that, the only way to win would be a blaze of fire the size of this arena.”

“What do you suggest? You want to throw your axes at him and nick him to death?” Ardie says and snorts.

“There’s only one clear way to defeat him,” Nick says.

“What?” I ask. Any ideas would be good at this point.

“Magic,” Nick says, his eyes boring into mine, when the geyser of power stops.

“What do we do? Should I try to climb him and stick him in the ear or something?” I blurt, not wanting to lose this window to move.

“It could work,” Ardie says.

“Her armor is the only thing protecting us from his magic. If she leaves us, we’re dead. Even you, Zombie. He is that powerful.”

“Then what do we do? Hide until he gets tired? Can we run out the clock? Is there a clock?” I ask, looking around, hoping to see one.

“Dorothy, I know I’ve been giving you a hard time about letting the boots take over and using magic, but maybe now is a good time to give in to it.”

“Give in?” I breathe.

“Maybe pry too,” he says, and a chuckle escapes me.

“It’s pray,” I correct.

“Right. That.”

I scan the half of the arena visible behind this massive shield to see what we have at our disposal. There are clusters of hexagonal emerald crystals shooting up in various places throughout this half of the six-sided court. I turn to Werelion.

“Find a good place to hide,” I say, and he nods and hurries to the closest cluster of emeralds with Toto in his arms, crouching behind it.

Right as another blast of light hits us, the shield my armor creates grows with the force until it closes over us in a half dome. The silver ceiling of my armor glows green as it blocks the magic from breaking through. I know Nick is right, that I need to connect to the magic of the boots to get through this trial. So even though I’m scared of losing myself to the boots and the magic, of it not working or not being enough, I’m more scared of death and I didn’t come this far just to die in this arena.

One deep cleansing breath, then another, and I close my eyes.

Please help me, help us.

The Guardian’s blast stops and my shield lowers. When our eyes connect, he laughs—the booming sound echoes off the arena walls. The spectators cheer for him. There are so many people around us hoping he’ll hurt us, hoping to see blood. If that’s what they’re here trying to escape, why would they put someone through this just to enter?

And then it happens—a rainbow mist appears from above and blankets me. A sense of calm, a tingling strength that puts me at ease and leaves me feeling confident pulsates through me beating to the rhythm of my heart. As the rainbow mist envelops me, the sound of my pulse emboldens, and the world around me shrinks, or maybe it’s that I grow taller and taller, high above the rows of seats, until I’m looking down at the Guardian as though he were the same height as when we first met. His eyes widen and I smirk.

“Oh, it’s on,” I say.

A flash of a butterfly twist kick I saw in a YouTube video enters my mind’s eye and as my body executes the move, the Guardian’s eyes widen even more.

He moves to dodge it just a second too late, and I only graze him, but the rainbow prism beaming off me and exploding from my kicks gives him a considerable jolt. In that small window where he stumbles back, I let loose on him.

His defense is formidable, using his staff to block my strikes in bursts of his green to my rainbow. His offence is strong too, and he makes contact a few times with a swift kick to my knee and a strike of his staff to my shoulder, but my boots protect me from the pain of the impact. My one advantage is that he’s not as fast as my boots make me. While he evades most of my strikes, I land a few hard hits too. And the gold shimmering light that accompany my blows seem to penetrate his layer of green mist because he cries out in pain every time I make contact.

When I land a kick to his hip, he flips back and away from me. Once he’s created some distance between us, he points his staff and shoots, but he aims to my right. As I watch the beam of green light travel past me, I spot its target—Werelion and Toto. Werelion’s taken them from behind one cluster of crystals and is trying to get to the larger one Nick and Ardie hide behind. They’re halfway there when Werelion freezes like a coward caught in the headlights. Toto braces himself for the beam of magic speeding toward them, curling into Werelion’s chest. But right as it’s about to strike, Ardie throws himself before them and takes the hit right in the chest. The Guardian’s beam blows a massive hole though his torso, and Ardie’s eyes widen in horror. Then another beam hits him, destroying him altogether, leaving nothing but flat mush. Ardie’s dead for good. Tears of misery, devastation, and rage well in my eyes and my breath catches in shock.

That’s what that beam of green light does when it hits? This guy is a damn psycho.

“How dare you,” I growl as a whip grows from my fist like lightning, shooting out and curling around his staff before I yank it back.

The staff flies, my silver whip wrapped around its center shimmering with rainbow light as it recoils toward me. When it reaches me, I catch the staff in my other hand as my armor absorbs the whip like it’s made of quicksilver.

With all the wrath inside me, I unleash the staff on him. Violent green and rainbow light beams out in a jagged bolt and strikes him. Rage boils over as something inside me releases. Something I think has been there for a long time I never let out. It’s like a special brand of anger you only get when you lose people. Grief and rage and hate roils so deep that you dam it up and disconnect it from the rest of yourself so you can survive, navigate life, function in a society. So you can appear to be normal and carry on with living. There’s an injustice to the chaos of life, and it raises a deep resentment when it craps on you. And sometimes, that resentment weighs so hard it sends little cracks through your armor. The dam leaks and your bilious wrath trickles out giving everyone a window into the anger you keep hidden. But on rare occasions, the dam breaks and deluges all you are. This is one of those moments for me.

A tempestuous volcano of boiling rage erupts from deep within me, channels into the staff, and radiates into the man who killed my friend when he was so close to finding his salvation. The Guardian shrinks back down to his true size before the beam flattens him the same way it flattened Ardie. When he’s nothing more than slop on the ground, I lower the staff and the beam stops.

The silence resonates so loud it’s deafening. But then an uproarious cheer thunders from the crowd. On a deep sigh I shrink back to my normal size, the stadium around me seeming to grow larger rather than me becoming smaller, which strikes me as odd. But I can’t dissect it now. Not when all I can think of is Ardie.

What kind of Wizard would allow this to happen? This is sick. Does everyone get this test when they come here or are we special?

“Winner” the disembodied voice shouts as the word appears in light overhead.

The spectators cheer and it infuriates me—my friend was just murdered, and I killed that treacherous man—there’s nothing to cheer about.

A torrent of grief and sadness drowns my anger, and as my armor shrinks back into my boots, I cover my face in my hands to hide the tears that burst from my eyes. I bawl, devastated, falling to my knees in the middle of the arena. The sight of me silences the callous audience, so at least they’re not wholly without compunction. Hands touch my shoulders and I look up to see Nick. Before I know what I’ve done, I’ve risen and thrown myself into his arms. He hugs me, careful not to cut me with his axes.

“It will be all right,” he says as he pets my hair, his voice gentle.

“He’s dead.”

“He was already dead.”

“Undead. And he was on the verge of getting a cure. He was so close.”

“There is no cure,” he tells me, his brows drawing in like he’s breaking bad news.

“It’s all my fault,” Werelion bawls, stepping over to us with Toto in his arms.

I pull away from Nick, wrap my arms around Werelion and Toto, and we cry together. Soon Toto joins us with a howl followed by his little doggy whimpers. The spectators let out a collective, “Aww.”

That’s when I lose it.

I break away and turn toward the people, my face red and wet with tears and shout, “How can you watch this like it’s a sport? What is wrong with all of you?”

I’m about to rip them all a new one when a hand grips my shoulder. I turn around and it’s Ardie, not flat, but three dimensional and unharmed except for a large hole in his shirt and jacket.

“Ardie?” I gasp and hug him tight.

“I told you I’d be fine.”

“How?”

“Fire is the only thing that can kill me. But this came close,” he says with a single sad laugh. “The arena sped up the healing process, I dare say.”

“Oh, Ardie,” Werelion cries as he rests his furry mane on Ardie’s shoulder. “You’re alive. Thank Oz, you’re alive. You saved me, again. I owe you my life a second time over.”

“Uhh…” Ardie says and trails off, his discomfiture plain on his face—he looks as though a rancid taste and putrid smell are assaulting him at once and he’s trying to pretend they’re not. Despite his embarrassment, he still pats Werelion on the back and says, “You owe me nothing. I knew I would live.”

“Congratulations. Now come on,” we hear the gruff voice of the Guardian say behind us.

“You’re alive,” I say with a slight growl, still seething, on edge, torn between being grateful I didn’t kill him and sorry I didn’t.

“He should come back to life, but I shouldn’t?” he scoffs as he steps toward me and snatches back his staff.

“He’s a zombie. What’s your excuse?” I snap back.

“As am I.”

Ardie looks the most shocked out of all of us.

“What? But… how much makeup do you wear?” Ardie says and I suppress a chuckle. The Guardian narrows his eyes at Ardie then shoots me a death stare before he answers.

“I’m not a purplish ghoul like you because I took a low-dose batch of spice. I eat real food and only crave brains a few times a year. I still age but I am undead. Someday I will be a walking skeleton,” he says and walks, so we follow.

“Why doesn’t Oz give you the cure?” Ardie asks.

“Oh, he will when the time comes, when I’m ready to die.”

“How old are you?” Werelion asks, fascinated.

“One hundred and sixty-three. But the magic of Oz keeps me looking young.”

We reach the stadium wall—a solid, vibrant emerald expanse encasing a network of misty green light streams—and when the Guardian raises his hand, a circle of light the size of a soccer ball appears. He places his palm on the ring of light and a moment later, a large oval shaped hole expands in the wall.

“The final test,” the Guardian says and steps through. Magical green mist envelops him and when it disperses, he’s gone.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I won’t do it. I won’t do it!” Werelion says, shaking his head as he backs away from the wall. Is it cowardice or good sense that makes him back away? Daring to step into an unknown magical test after what we just went through might be plain stupid.

“I will go first,” Nick says. “It’s fine, see?” he says and puts one arm through the hole, then a foot, and Werelion bursts forward.

“No, I will go first. You have all sacrificed for me. I will test it and see if it’s safe. It is the least I can do,” he says, hands me Toto, and moves toward the hole. Nick steps back to let him through.

Werelion stands at the hole, takes a deep breath, then another, and doesn’t move.

“Werelion?” Nick says. Werelion shakes his head.

“Push me in. Just push me. I can’t do it on my—” he says, and Nick sends him flying into the hole. The magic envelops him in an instant. When the mist clears, he’s not there.

“Do you think he realizes we have no way of knowing if he lives through it?” Nick asks, amusement crinkling his bewildered eyes.

“Dorothy? Would you like to go next?” Ardie asks.

“Sure,” I say with a shrug before I walk over, my bag of weapons on my back and my dog in my arms. “See you on the other side,” I grin. With a deep breath and not too much thought, I step into the mysterious magical mist of Oz with crossed fingers.

15

The City of Emeralds

Dazzling brilliancy cradles and encapsulates me like I’m a fetus in the womb as it hurls me through a solid emerald wall as thick and tall as the tallest skyscrapers. With Toto in my arms, we rush headlong through the great barrier, the green crystal before us folding away in kaleidoscopic patterns, carving our path as we fly. I find every slope, loop, twist, and turn thrilling, like being on a roller coaster, but Toto doesn’t agree. He barks out his protests, growling and howling and barking for every curve and corner we take. But as much as he hates it, I love it, smiling so big for so long my face hurts. It’s hard to tell which way is up or down but if I had to guess, I’d say we’re upside down speeding feet first straight up to the top of this massive emerald.

Soon enough the morphing shapes of the crystal at my feet open to a bright blue sky and Toto and I are spat out in a puff of green mist. Toto howls as we shoot high into the air feet first from the center of the rampart over a long walkway that lines the entire battlement. A tooth shaped parapet of merlons made of single large emerald crystals with sharp points line the rampart, and magic haze pours out through the crenels in coruscating light and fog. Behind the parapet is a rooftop covered in zombies, shifters, and humans either working or walking around and hanging out on emerald benches, packed into restaurants with outdoor seating, and socializing at what might be a country club.

Upside down and hurtling through the air, I take it all in as we arc down toward the bustling city below. The rapid thudding of my heart rattles my ribcage, and I wonder if this is my way of learning I failed the test the Guardian of the Gates mentioned. Outrage thunders inside me as the spangly green cloud that brought us to this point forms into a bubble around us. Afloat, suspended in the middle of the magical bubble that appears to be taking me somewhere, my anxiety abates and a blanket of relief enwraps me—I guess I’m not getting dropped from a thousand feet above the ground—but worry creeps in as the bubble curves back toward the emerald rampart. Is this some elaborate ejection from the city? Werelion flails around in his bubble ahead as he floats along the interior of the wall, and although he’s obviously in distress, the sight of it relaxes me.

When I turn around, I see Nick get spat out the same way I did. Ardie emerges next in the same puff of nebulous mist. With a visible pop, their glimmering fog morphs into bubbles, and both of them follow the same track as Werelion and me, veering back toward the wall and drifting along the length of its interior.

The closer I get to the wall, the clearer its details become. Grotesques of terrifying shifters offset rows of apartments that span the entire emerald rampart. In an unnerving marriage of elegance and spookiness, nightmarish shifter gargoyles stand posted at either side of the many twinkling bartizans in the wall where large families of zombies and shifters live.

As I float past the viridescent windows of these fancy apartments with crystal balustraded balconies, the people inside go about their lives as though someone floating by their window is commonplace. When I look out over the city in the other direction, I notice we’re not the only ones traveling this way. Bubbles containing humans, zombies, and shifters float over the top of the city, down into the streets, and my eyes widen in awe.

The thick wall that surrounds the city looks like a fortress from the outside, but from the inside it is a beautiful creation of intricate design. If what the Guardian said is true, it was magic that carved the homes from the gargantuan stone. Like the rest of Emerald with its grand estates of lush farms and emerald mansions, the homes inside the wall are elegant with a magical touch. Crystal walls with doors that open and close like a camera shutter divide large rooms. Each home has wide open spaces with elegant décor and its own aesthetic unique to its residents and their species.

With my emerald goggles on, I can see the magic that lights the room I pass. Inside, a busy shifter rabbit cooks dinner over an emerald stove run on magic in a kitchen that opens into a very large family room. While her children hop around and play, three of them argue over a toy. The shifter rabbit yells at her fighting kids to quiet and turns away from the pan to resolve their tiff. As she separates her little ones, a magic hand made of green glittering mist emerges from the kitchen wall, lifts her spoon, and stirs the vegetables she is sautéing.

My mind is blown. That’s maybe the most convenient appliance ever. Talk about a smart home. I bet Alexa has that ability someday.

The bubbles drift lower, Werelion already about fifty feet below me, and I pass more apartments, most with curtains drawn but some have zombies or shifters puttering about their homes. I float past a balcony where a man stands drinking out of an emerald bottle. Shirtless, only wearing loose pants that hang from his hips, his warm, dark skin sports an elaborate tattoo of a snake that circles around from his low waistband to his torso and covers his chest and back with its head curling around his neck. He leans on the balustrade looking out at the city. Silky brown hair falls in waves just above the head of the snake at his chiseled jawline. When our eyes meet, he smiles at me and winks oozing promises of debauchery.

Why are all the attractive guys in this realm playboy types with such cheesy game? If that’s what works for the men around here, what is wrong with the women of Oz? Or it could be they hate it as much as we do in the civilized realm. I don’t know of a single woman who wants that kind of approach.

“Human, zombie, or shifter?” he asks as I float by.

“Human,” I say, and he smiles a lazy half-grin, his smoldering eyes roaming over my body. A shudder creeps down my spine.

“Meet me at the Copper Jewel tonight,” he calls as I float away relieved to be leaving his presence.

The bubble picks up speed and whisks us through the bustling streets above the heads of pedestrians. None of them act like it’s strange how close we are, as if flying low in a bubble over the streets of the city is commonplace. Although I suppose it would be in a city like this—a city made of emeralds, run on magic, and grown from the ground by a wizard.

Even Toto’s eyes are wide as we zoom through the spectacular city in a bubble. Restaurants and taverns advertise ‘Fresh Brains!’ and ‘Fresh Kills!’ Shops and markets with cheerful signs and displays advertise products like ‘Zombie Cream — now with Methanol!’ and ‘Artisanal Brain Bars — Jam-Packed with Happy Thoughts. Now in Munchkin Flavor!’

We weave in and out of buildings, floating around corners, and flying down street after street until we reach the main road that gleams with vivid green magic. On one side of the street, boutiques and cafés bookend zombie spas and shifter groomers. On the other side stands a large skyscraper with high-ceiling apartments.

As our bubbles circle the building, spiraling up toward the top, I see entire floors are rainforest or desert, ice and snow, beaches—it boggles my mind how even with magic, a beach and ocean could appear on the thirtieth floor. The bubble brings me all the way to the pinnacle of this unique shifter building, the entire top of which is a resplendent aviary brimming with shifter birds. Daedal carvings in the crystal catch the light of the sun and reflect in iridescent clouds that drift off the top of what is the tallest building in the city by far before it disperses over the land. This is the beacon of light that led us here.

As we descend, I realize I’m being given a tour. It brings a smile to my face and gives me hope. If the wizard’s magic is controlling this bubble as the Guardian implied, I’d take it as a good sign we’ve proven ourselves enough to at least get a decent welcome.

From the top of the tallest tower, we glide toward the city’s center, and halfway there I spot it—right in the middle of the bejeweled metropolis stands an emerald palace grander than the grandest palace ever built in the civilized realm. The Palace of Versailles has nothing on this place. The Taj Mahal doesn’t even compare. It’s enormous. If this city is about the size of the island of Manhattan, this palace is all of Central Park.

Like everything else, it’s made of emerald—brilliant, shimmering, and deep green. Magic courses through its walls and over its grounds, out into the city. A small river encircles the entire property. One might call it a moat if fish shifters weren’t swimming in it and people weren’t lounging at the riverbank. An emerald drawbridge spans the water forming a walkway to stairs that lead to the colossal emerald and copper doorway of the grandiloquent castle.

Embellished with florid engravings on its facade, the palace is majestic to say the least. Towers topped with emerald hoardings shine as bright as they menace. Exquisite turrets with cut crystal roofs glint in the light and evanesce sparkling green vapor. And between the turrets on the flat roof of the exterior wall are embattled parapets with crenellations. Merlons of rough hexagonal emerald stones jut upward to sharp, intimidating points. Soldiers in green military uniforms walk the patrol path behind the battlement that runs along the top of the rampart. Each of them carries a staff like the Guardian’s—long, copper, and bejeweled in faceted emeralds with a deep green stone the size of a softball braced in the talon-like clutches at the top.

Behind the curtain wall is a palace that would make mansions cry from shame of inadequacy. Bartizans with windows the color of ripe honeydew protrude from the palace’s exterior. Rapacious green ivy climbs the walls and curls in flowery complement to the elegance of the gleaming facade. And at its center, uniformed landscapers and the twinkling fog of the magic of Oz both tend to a spectacular open-air garden only man, nature, and magic could have grown in congruence.

From my bubble that floats about five feet above the garden’s highest tree, I gaze at all the rich-hued flowers glutting the ground below in an arresting kaleidoscope of blooms. Touch-me-nots drench container gardens, spilling over to kiss the neighboring pink pampas grass that explodes from its planters like fireworks. Crimson petunias sway with twirling hibiscus blossoms in a magical dance that steals my breath. Each of their swirls and swivels emit sparks of magic that flitter away in the breeze. As I drift over the garden gasping at the overwhelming beauty beneath my feet, my bubble dips down so low I can almost touch the sea of angelonias as they cuddle with a rainbow of powder puff dahlias that emanate glittering affection.

My bubble slows, and it feels as though it knows this garden is the kind of place I’ve always dreamed of seeing in person. The magical work of art at my feet is a love affair of structure and pandemonium. Flowering vines coil and curl around trellises and gazebos of latticed emerald crystal. A rumpus of shimmering green roses weave around topiaries trimmed with exactitude. And bedlams of annuals congregate around paths of manicured emerald grass in a harmonious commingling of chaos and order. It’s a spectacular synergy of the green precision of man and an anarchy of color only nature and magic could grow together.

I float out of the garden, up over a pavé tower topped with a swirling crystal roof that looks like it’s blown glass, and inside I see an elderly human man pacing the floor. Our bubbles float around the castle before lowering us on its front steps. When the bubble reaches the landing at the top of the steps, it pops and drops us about a foot above the ground. Werelion tumbles, sobbing, while I land with ease. Nick alights without a stumble but Ardie falls over with a grunt.

“I cannot wait another minute for this cure,” Ardie grumbles as he picks himself up. “When can we see Oz?” he asks the Guardian who is standing here waiting for us.

“When he’s ready,” the Guardian says in his usual sour way.

“Lose the attitude or I’ll flatten you again,” I warn, my eyes slits, but he just shakes his head at me and turns toward the massive door.

To the side of the door is another palm-sized faceted emerald rimmed in copper. The Guardian places his hand on it and the massive door opens.

The inside is even more striking than the outside. Deep green selenite-like columns that glint and glimmer support high-vaulted ceilings forming a long, wide corridor that leads to a reliquary of magic oozing luminosity. Iridescent, glittering green haze seeps into the atmosphere and flows throughout the space. Florid archways carved with intricacy and skill frame honeydew crystal doors that open and close as soldiers and servants clad in formal green uniforms zip about the space.

Massive bouquets of flowers overflow from carved emerald crystal vases. Streams of magic swirl in the water they hold giving a new life to the blooms that move and sway and twirl in a dance that elevates their exquisite loveliness the way only magic can.

“Wait here. Do. Not. Move. Someone will come for you soon enough,” the Guardian says as he walks away from us and out the front door of the palace.

“It was not a pleasure to meet you!” Ardie calls after him.

People dressed in green uniforms mill about, and none of them appear to be coming for us.

“Wonderful,” Nick sighs.

“They better not leave us standing here for hours again,” I say, irritation creeping in already.

“I doubt everyone here is as rude as that old zombie,” Ardie says.

“Do not be so sure,” Nick says as he eyes every person who passes like they might attack at any second.

Toto nuzzles my chin to soothe my growing irritation when a cloud of the green glittery mist appears before each of us in big poofy puffs. Worried it’s another attack, my heart pounds but then four uniformed servants emerge from the clouds of magical mist.

A zombie with jade hair and light bluish skin appears before Ardie in a green palace uniform. He has one line of glittering green paint on his cheekbone. And in a green palace uniform with the same glittering green line of paint on his cheekbone, a gecko shifter appears before Werelion. A lanky, tall human man stands before Nick. And before me is a lovely girl in a green palace uniform with deep green hair done elaborately and fastened with combs encrusted in emeralds. Her eyes are vibrant green and she even wears shimmering emerald makeup on her eyes and lips. On her cheek is the same glittering line the other three wear. The line is thick, brilliant, and precise at the top. On the bottom it fades, blending into her cheek in green satin and faint glimmers. She smiles and speaks as their magical mist dissipates.

“Welcome to the Emerald Palace of the Great and Terrible Wizard, Oz. He regrets he cannot see you today for he has urgent matters to attend, but he grants you audience. We will notify you when he calls for you. Until then, the palace and all the city is at your disposal. Whatever you may need, please ask and we will do our best to accommodate you. For now, we will show you to your rooms where you may rest and recover from your journey. The humans will stay in the west wing while the shifter and the zombie will stay in the east wing—”

“You’ll separate us?” Werelion asks, his voice trembling with concern, and I’d have to agree.

“Is that necessary?” I ask and she offers a soft smile before she responds.

“The east wing has chambers for zombies and shifters. We do not arrange zombie rooms for sleeping. And rooms for shifters vary, but we have a suite for a large feline shifter with many amenities I believe you will appreciate. If you’d rather stay in the human wing you are welcome to, although I do not recommend it. You will be much more comfortable in the east wing.”

“I think it’s safe, and I’ll be there with you,” Ardie says. Werelion takes a breath to calm himself and shudders a nod of reluctant agreement.

“Let us get cleaned up,” Nick suggests.

“This way, miss,” Jellia says and holds out her hand as she walks, leading me away from the group. The man guiding Nick goes the same way while they lead Ardie and Werelion in the opposite direction.

Toto rustles in my arms and jumps up so his little paws are on my shoulder. He looks to Ardie and barks. The people around stop, surprised and fascinated by my little guy. Ardie nods to his zombie servant out of politeness and hurries over to Toto, scratching behind his ears.

“Dorothy, would you mind if I came to pick up Toto early to take him on a walk around the city?”

Toto’s tail wags at the suggestion.

“Of course Toto can go with you.”

Toto gives my cheek a lick and Ardie smiles before hurrying back to his zombie servant. When I turn back to Jellia she is smiling, looking at Toto like he’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen, and I don’t blame her—he’s adorable. She starts down the hall again and so does Nick and his butler or whatever they are. With Toto in my arms, I follow them down the long corridor and up a few steps to a large open room.

Wide, ornate doorways line the walls and a copper rimmed parquet of polished pale green crystal and in the center of the floor, dark opaque green marble-like stone surround a mandala-like emblem. The design is geometric and intricate, and the glimmering symbol at its center looks like a kaleidoscopic Star of David. Jellia leads us all to the middle of the room and over to a door. It slides open for her, and when she steps in, we follow.

It’s a small room much like the one the Guardian led us into before it dropped us in that arena. Nick and I exchange concerned looks as the door closes. Jellia turns the knob the same way the Guardian did, and when she turns the dial to the final symbol, she pushes the jewel button. We take off, the entire room moving us through twists and turns, up and down at what feels like an incredible speed.

“Where are we going?” I ask her, very apprehensive.

“To your chambers. Because you are a guest, you can enter one of these and it will take you to your room. I must specify with the dial because I have my own chambers here. If you want to go to another’s chamber or another place in the palace, you can use the key we provide for you in the baskets in your rooms.”

“Baskets?” Nick asks, his brows drawn together.

“Welcome baskets!” Jellia beams. “Everything you need we provide for you while you are here. The Welcome baskets help to acquaint you with our palace and our city.”

The door slides open to a stunning vestibule filled with emerald vases bursting with redolent, magical flowers that sparkle and dance. A large mirror hangs on the wall in an elaborate emerald and copper frame. Two couches rest beside two doorways with two emerald and copper coatracks beside each door. A blaze of fiery green magic lights what looks like a fireplace, but it’s clearly not for fire.

“Your chambers,” Jellia says, stepping out into the vestibule. We follow and the door slides closed behind us. “My lady, this is your suite. Sir, this one is yours. If you each place your palm on the stone, the door will open for you. If you would ike to ring another’s door, press their doorstone and they will hear a chime inside alerting them to your arrival. Shall we?” she says and moves toward the door on the left while her male companion moves toward the door on the right. When Nick and I both step toward our doors, our eyes connect. This is the beginning of the end. Who knows how much longer we have together. The wizard could call on us in the morning.

“See ya,” I blurt, not knowing what else to say, doing my best to fight how sentimental I’m feeling. So I smile, and he smiles back before we both turn toward our doors. When I place my palm on the giant faceted emerald in the wall—or the ‘doorstone,’ as she called it—the door slides open.

16

The Emerald Palace

When I step inside the grand room, she follows and the door slides closed after her. As I survey the room before me, my jaw drops. I gape at my ‘suite’ that is more like a giant penthouse in the tower of a gigantic jewel. It’s at least ten times the size of the house I landed here in and that’s only what I can see. There are doors that lead to rooms I’m sure are also gigantic. Green crystal décor and architecture with crystal lattices frame giant crystal windows. Even though it is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, it’s still reminiscent of a time that’s passed, like that Great Gatsby era with its extravagance and Deco style luxury where everything looks like the top of the Chrysler Building.

Flowers dance and sparkle in icy craquelure vases, making the room smell wonderful. Plush emerald velvet furniture with copper and emerald gemstone accents and inlays adorn the space and radiate opulence. The engravings on the walls are very wallpaper-like—shimmery magic sparkles inside the emerald wall giving it a glow that warms up the lavish space. When I reach out to the wall beside me and touch the florid curl of an engraving, scintillas rush toward my finger. As I move my finger along the wall, the scintillas follow creating a new pattern throughout the room that coordinates with my inadvertent design.

“I liked yours better,” I whisper to the wall and place my palm on it. The scintillas race to my hand and the engravings shift again to something even better than the first with a tasteful amount of curls and whirls. It’s not as ornate, but I prefer a less busy pattern. Somehow the wall could tell that, I guess.

“I see you’ve discovered another wonder of Oz’s magic. The entire room will adjust to your needs and desires. If you are hungry, ask Oz and the food you desire will appear,” she says as she takes my bag from me before I put Toto down. “He is your pet, yes?”

“Yes, he is. He’s an animal from my realm called a dog.”

“A dog,” she repeats as if to commit the name to memory. “He is charming.”

“His name is Toto. He’s the best.”

“Would you like to wash?”

“Yes, I’d love to, but I can’t take my boots off, so I’m hindered.”

“Oh, my,” she says as she looks me over. “You also cannot remove your breeches?”

Breeches? She’s looking at my jeans so I guess she means my jeans.

“Right,” I say as she appraises my lower half.

A pair of emerald scissors emerge from the wall beside us, held up by the green mist, and land in Jellia’s hand.

“It appears we must cut them off.”

“I have no other clothes.”

“Oz has placed many items in your closet for you. If you have been in this garment as long as I suspect, we should cut them off of you as soon as possible.”

Can’t deny she’s right. These jeans could stand on their own by now. And I’d love to change my underwear. But I’ll only be able to wear skirts or bottoms I could fit the boots through.

“How will I put clothes on after? I can’t take the boots off.”

“There are many items you can wear. Do not worry. Come,” she says and charges off down a hallway.

I follow, picking up my pace to catch up and she turns into a bathroom bigger than any bathroom should be. There’s an emerald plunge pool that takes up one entire end of the room. Little enclaves stand throughout the space divided by striking crystal formations. A door to a smaller room with an emerald and copper toilet stands to my right. And behind me, the other end of the room comprises walls of mirrors reflecting endlessly with emeralds everywhere. I glimpse myself in the edge of the endless mirrors, and I am a mess. No wonder Nick wants nothing to do with me other than friendship—I look like a crackhead.

“Let’s do it. Let’s cut them off,” I blurt before thinking it through and as she comes toward me with the scissors I step back. “Wait… Do you guys have undergarments for me? I—”

“Yes, miss,” she says.

“Please, call me Dorothy,” I say, feeling terrible I hadn’t told her my name when she told me hers. I’m never so impolite. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself before—I’m in a bit of a strange headspace.”

“Strange headspace?” As she positions herself at my side, scissors at the ready, I unbutton my jeans pulling them down over my hips to my knees. She makes the first cut.

“I’m a bit out of sorts. I’m not from here.”

“Is it true you fell from the sky?” she asks, her green eyes glinting with wonder and what I think is fear.

“Yeah. In my house. That’s how I got these,” I say and proffer my arm to my foot, showing her my boots. “The house I live in landed on the Vampire Witch of the East while I was in it. Next thing I know, her boots appear on my feet. Now I can’t take them off. I’m hoping the Wizard can help me.”

“Oz can do that,” she says as she finishes cutting off one leg of my jeans and moves onto the next.

“I’m counting on it.”

Once she gets my pants cut off, she removes my underwear in two snips. Fascinated by the design of my undergarments, she says she can make me similar items if I prefer the style, which I do. I don’t think I want to rock a farthingale or pantalettes or whatever ancient undies they wear here, at least not for more than a day or two.

I take off my shirt and look at all the patches and I can’t lose this. I hated the thing for so long because it represented the worst time in my life, but also because it’s the result of me lashing out. These patches meant so much to my mom—they were from a time in her life she loved, that shaped her and meant something to her. And when she died, I was so mad at her for dying that I took them and sewed them on this stupid shirt. I can’t lose them, so as she takes it from me I say, “This shirt is very important to me. Please, don’t lose it.”

“Do not worry,” she says with a smile and takes it from my hands.

I remove my bra, and when I’m in only my boots, Jellia takes me through each station of the in-room crystal spa. First, she covers me in the fragrant oil and macerated petals of flowers unique to the Land of Emerald called an Emerose—it smells wonderful and feels magical on my skin. The sheer greenish blue tint and light shimmer of the oil makes my skin sparkle like a Vegas showgirl’s but sends enchanting scintillations along the surface of my skin before effervescing into magical green mist. With the shimmer gone and only the oil left on my skin, she walks me to the next station where she exfoliates me with a glittering emerald scrub made of fine emerald sand. Misty green hands emerge from the surrounding crystal walls to assist Jellia in scrubbing all the dead skin off my body. It must be a lifetime’s worth judging by how much they are scrubbing. After a long and thorough exfoliation, the mist surrounds me and whisks the little emerald pieces off of my skin.

At the next station lies a glowing emerald slab encircled by illuminated shoots of hexagonal emerald clusters that form decorative, throne-like formations. As I stand gazing at the glorious piece of magically grown furniture before me, Jellia slathers iridescent green mud onto my back and arms. Hands of shimmering mist come out to help her, and soon I am covered from my hair to my toes in the emerald clay. Jellia leads me over to the emerald table and when I go to climb onto it, a twinkling green fog engulfs me, lifts me onto the emerald slab, and lies me on my back. From there, the magic takes over. Hands of mist and glitter place emerald crystals all over my body in mandala like patterns.

When the mist places the last crystal, pure force shoots through me. Every breath intensifies the buzzing of the potent energy in my spine spreading through my entire being. The feeling is unlike anything I knew before I came to Oz. Magic has a distinct feel to it and I am sure this is magic but it’s unique, like an awakening on a biological level, like this magic event caused a switch to flick on inside me and it opened a floodgate of power.

The buzzing of the energy grows so strong it makes a sound, a low hum, resonant and round. It gets louder and louder until it’s the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. Vibrations in my body and brain are so severe my teeth chatter and I worry my eardrums might burst. The transcendental hum oscillates before it strengthens again, my eyeballs clattering in their sockets so hard they might fly out of my head if I open them. The buzzing in my brain becomes so strong I worry my head will explode.

And then it does—a loud pop followed by a burst of light from the top of my skull beams into the emerald headboard of the slab I’m on in a luminous, swirling rainbow. When the light hits the stone, the emerald illuminates in a pulse that penetrates the entire room turning it a clear crystal with rainbow twinkles throughout. And then it’s as though the room takes a deep breath, the light expunging from my body oscillating once before it disperses. The surrounding stone goes green again.

Encased in green mud with emerald crystals all over me, my skin tingles as the green mist emerges and massages my tight muscles in the most delicious way. I melt into the emerald slab beneath me, and I trance-out going into a meditative state where no thought or recognition of time enters my mind. When my eyes open, I have no clue how much time has passed, but I know I have never felt better.

“What was that?” I ask as I sit up. Jellia stands, her hands clasped before her, staring at me with fear in her wide eyes.

“I do not know. I have seen nothing like it.”

“What did it look like?” I ask her, having no clue what that looked like from the outside.

“I… You lit up from within and raised off the pallet. With the mask… and the light…” she says and looks confused.

“What?” I ask, afraid to hear her answer.

“You looked like the stone, like you were an emerald. Your luminance grew so bright it was almost blinding, then a rainbow of light burst out of you and took over the room.”

“Oh, my,” I say and exhale the breath I was holding.

“You must be a very powerful sorceress,” she says, a tremble in her voice. She’s afraid of me.

“I’m not a sorceress. It’s the boots. They give me magic. Without them, I’m just a regular, powerless human,” I say, hoping it relaxes her. I don’t want her to fear me.

As the mist removes the mandala of crystals it created on my skin in puffs of green smoke, a wary expression takes over her painted face at my answer.

“Are you sure?” she asks with a skeptical squinch of her eyes and I sit up, wondering about that. Am I sure?

“You know, I’m not. The world I’m from has no magic at all. We can achieve the illusion of magic through technology—something I’m not sure if you guys have here—and the majesty of nature can feel magical, but we have no real magic like you guys have. So, if I were magical somehow it would be a new thing that came from me being here. I was never magical before. The instant I arrived, I killed that Vampire Witch with my house. Then her boots appeared on my feet. It’s possible I would have been magical without them, but it seems logical it would be the boots, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” she says and smiles.

“But maybe I’m magical now, although it seems like wishful thinking.”

“You would want to be a sorceress?”

“I don’t know what it means to be a sorceress here, but having power, the way magic feels when it runs through you, is wonderful. At the same time though, sometimes these boots control my behavior, my words. I say things I’d never say. I may have thought things like it, but I’d never say it aloud before. It would be nice to have them off. I’m hoping the Wizard will know what to do.”

“He will,” she assures me, and the way she says it makes any doubt I had wash away. “Let us wash you off now,” she says and leads me over to the plunge pool and up the green crystal steps. At the top, I hesitate.

“I can’t get the boots wet. They won’t come off and haven’t for days. My feet will get all squishy,” I say and shudder. “My feet are so gross by now already. If I add water to the scenario, I can’t even fathom the repugnant stench they’ll produce or the fungus that’ll run rampant. I’ll end up losing toes…” I say and stop, grossing myself out. “Sorry.”

A magical green mist emerges from the water and sweeps me off my feet. I hope it elevates my legs so I can wash without worry. But it drops me in the water with no regard for my very valid concern. Shocked and submerged, I leap to the surface and gasp for air, the shimmering emerald mud running off me in streams.

“No,” I whimper as the mud disperses into the water.

The streams of green that dissolve into clouds sparkle as they effervesce. Soon, the entire plunge pool fills with bubbles that scrub my body, rise above the bath, and float through the air until it fills the entire space with shimmery bubbles. They are in my boots tickling my toes, and I hope they’re disinfectant bubbles with antiseptic antifungal properties that can keep my feet from corroding in these boots. If not, I need to see this Wizard pronto and get these wet, sloshy boots off my feet.

Bubbles smother me, rubbing all over me and it’s overwhelming, suffocating. Just when I think I can’t take another second, right before I get up out of this tub and run, all the bubbles pop, one after the other until they disappear altogether, and I gasp a deep breath trying to get some air in my lungs.

“That was oppressive,” I say and Jellia giggles as she approaches the side of the tub with an ornate emerald bottle containing a glowing green viscous liquid.

“Now I will wash your hair,” she says and waves me over.

I wade over to the edge of the tub where Jellia sits, and I get settled on a built-in bench beneath the water. With the bottle uncapped, she pours some of it on my hair, lathers me up, and scrubs. Dainty fingers knead my skull and my body melts like butter.

“That’s so great,” I breathe and hear her soft giggle behind me.

“Tell me, is that young man your love?”

“You mean Nick?”

“The human,” she clarifies.

“No,” I say with a light laugh as my cheeks get hot. “Just friends.”

“Oh. That is unfortunate. He is very attractive,” she says, and I huff a laugh.

“He’s available if you’re interested.”

“Thank you, but no. I am married,” she says with a smile.

“What’s that like?”

“Wonderful most of the time. And then sometimes it is not. Men can be a nuisance,” she says, and I giggle.

“Speaking of that, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes,” she says as she scrubs my scalp.

“What’s with the cheesy game the guys run here?”

“Cheesy game?”

“How they hit on girls, approach them. It’s so blatant and… repulsive.”

“How do you mean?”

I do my impersonation as best I can, turning to face her. I give her an upward nod with a wink as a lascivious smile takes over my lips. With a waggle of my brows, I say, “Shifter, zombie, or human? Meet me at the Copper Jewel tonight.” I smolder and appraise every inch of her body just like that snake tattoo guy did, and she laughs. “I may have a huge two-foot-long horse wang, but I think you could handle me,” I say with a cocky half-smile like the centaur’s, and she guffaws.

“A horse shifter invited you to the Copper Jewel?”

“No, the horse shifter was on my way into the city. When I was floating around in the bubble that brought me here, a human asked me to meet him at the Copper Jewel.”

“You’re sure he was human?”

“He looked human. I saw him on a balcony with only a pair of pants, and his skin was dark and toasty, so I don’t think he was a zombie. The guy was hot, had a badass snake tattoo all over his cut torso, but his game was sleazy. Same with the horse shifter—gorgeous, but a sleaze.”

“When you say tattoo, do you mean an imprint of a snake was on his chest?”

“In my realm we call it a tattoo when someone uses needles and ink to draw a permanent picture on their skin.”

“Ah, I see. But that was not a tattoo you saw on him. It was his imprint.”

“Imprint?”

“Yes, when a shifter becomes a shifter, their animal imprints itself on their human form. He was a snake shifter in his human form. If he had been a raccoon shifter, that is the animal you would have seen on his skin.”

“Oh. I thought shifters only shifted once because it’s so painful.”

“Most keep their shifter form. I have heard the pain of shifting is unbearable. But there are many like the shifter who asked you out who took forms like snakes to make it to the City of Emeralds with little trouble who had no intention of keeping that form. A snake is a form you can take to escape and fight if you must, but while here in the City of Emeralds there is no reason for him to live in his snake form. He will still associate with shifters though. They tend to remain in their groups. The Copper Jewel is a shifter tavern.”

“Oh. Weird,” I say, and she giggles.

“As far as your question goes as to why those men were so brazen, it is because you are beautiful.”

“Aww, thanks, but that’s not what I mean. Their approach is lecherous.”

“Not all males in Oz are this way. My husband was not this way. But the ones who are very attractive, who have no intention of committing approach women this way because they can. The women know what these men want, that it is all they want, and they are so attractive the women do not care.”

“Wow. And I thought it might have had something to do with how they could die at any moment in this monster-ridden land of yours.”

“Perhaps that plays a part, but I believe it’s a result of laziness. They don’t want to put in the effort because they have no intention of continuing with the woman beyond intercourse.”

“How charming,” I sneer, and she giggles.

“But not all men are this way.”

“Yeah,” I say and sigh.

Once she thoroughly scrubs my scalp, she rinses my hair, applies a glittery green conditioning mask, and rinses it again. When she’s finished, the mist appears, lifts me out of the bath, and carries me over to an enclave at the other side of the room.

On a small platform inside a curve in the wall, the magical mist sets me down on my squishy, wet boot clad feet. From the tips of my toes up over my head, glittering fog coils around me and spirals, gaining speed, moving like the cyclone that brought me here. Beads of water lift off my skin as my hair whips about me twisting with the coil of the winding wind. And as fast as it came, it stops. My hair falls, hanging in my face like a thick curtain. I reach up and part the strands covering my eyes. The deadpan look I give Jellia must amuse her because she lets out a boisterous laugh.

“Come,” she says as her laugh dies down, proffering her arm to me. When I step off the platform, I notice my feet are as dry as the rest of me and the tension in my shoulders loosens a little.

The next enclave has a table covered in vials and jars of shimmering oils, creams, and powders. Old fashioned crystal perfume bottles filled with green liquids of varying shades line one side of the table. Flat and fluffy brushes with silky green hairs lie side by side on the other end of the table. Mini feather dusters with soft green feathers and green crystal wands of varying widths and lengths that glint and glimmer when they catch the light stand upright in a tall emerald glass.

First, she covers my body in oils, then she passes a wand over my skin and I watch as the glittering light makes the oil absorb in an instant. Next, she slathers my body in creams and runs another wand over me. My skin soaks up the cream the moment the light of the wand shines on it. Then come the powders shimmering a rainbow of colors. One after the other, she brushes them on my skin and no matter how hard I try to hold it back, a fit of sneezes erupts from me that make her giggle. Once I’m covered in highlights and luminescent powders from head to toe, she takes another wand and passes it over my skin. The powders go from sitting atop my skin to merging with it, giving it a natural glow that makes me look photoshopped. My skin has never been so flawless or felt so silky smooth.

At the next station, Jellia sits me on an elegant emerald chair. Beside the chair is an emerald table and on it is a hairbrush with a green crystal handle, many copper clips and combs with emerald embellishments, and in a glowing urn are cylindrical crystal wands of different lengths, girths, and sizes. Jellia sits me down and brushes my hair. Then she takes one of the crystal wands from the urn, takes a section of my hair, and coils it around the crystal like it’s a curling iron. When she unwraps my hair from it, all the frizz disappears, my hair shines, and it leaves a perfect loose curl behind. She goes through my hair with the crystal wand then uses two of the combs to pull my hair back out of my face. From there, she takes me to the final station—makeup. This time, inside the enclave we find a vanity with a large mirror and a cushioned bench set before it. Powders that sparkle, creams that shine, and liquids that shimmer in all different colors sit in ornate crystal containers atop the vanity.

“Oh, no, I don’t need makeup. I doubt I’m going out tonight,” I tell her.

I have no money to buy or do anything here. It’s got to be late by now. No one has come by to see if I want to go anywhere. Ardie said he’d come by for Toto in the morning, so I don’t think he’s planning on hanging out tonight. It’s not like we’ve known each other for long. I can’t expect them to invite me to hang around.

“Your traveling companions will not come to call on you?”

“I mean, it’s been a while and none of them have come by.”

“Perhaps you will go to the Copper Jewel and meet that handsome shifter.”

“No,” I say with a chortle.

“Let us put only a small amount on so that if you go out you will be ready.”

“Fine. But only a little, please.” I don’t want to offend her, but I don’t see the point of putting on makeup to hang out alone in my room for a few hours then go to sleep.

She sits me down before the vanity and works her magic. I’m surprised by how much I like what she does. It’s subtle but pretty—a little blush that adds just the right amount of pink to my cheeks to appear natural; the smallest amount of shimmery highlighting cream dabbed in the corners of my eyes, on the tip of my nose, and on my cheekbones to give them a natural glow; a cream on my lashes that curl, thicken, and lengthen the strands while enhancing their darkness; and a very sheer lip rouge that makes my lips the most beautiful shade of reddish-pink. Too bad I will just be washing it all off in a few hours.

Now that we’ve hit every station in this spa-style bathroom, the green mist carries in clothing for me, setting them in Jellia’s hands. Every article is a shade of green, and sure enough, my undergarments are pettipants and a camisole. But it is a nice, comfortable, emerald green dress with a flattering cut. Not that I’m going anywhere. I thank her for all her help and before she takes her leave, she tells me if I want to call on her for anything to place my palm on the wall and the magic of Oz will alert her.

Once she’s gone, I go into the living room area to find Toto isn’t there. Worry niggles at my chest as I hurry into the bedroom. When the crystal door slides open, I find him lying on a plush dog bed covered in green silk and velvet. Belly-up and blissed-out, Toto lies on his back with his eyes closed as a green misty hand rubs his belly and scratches him in all his favorite spots. As I turn around, I chuckle and tiptoe back into the living room area.

The city outside the windows glows and twinkles against the dark night sky. As I walk out onto the balcony, I take in the glamorous, magical city before me and thank God, or the Universe, or whatever brought me here for such an amazing adventure and such wonderful friends. Despite the monsters, this trip has been a dream come true. Scratch that—it’s been beyond my wildest dreams. I only wish there was a way for me to visit someday. I hate this is goodbye forever.

“Dorothy?” I hear Nick say behind me, and I startle, spinning around to face him. He looks surprised too. And so dashing. He’s wearing a green, form-fitting henley with a dark green jacket and well-tailored dark green pants. He’s clean and shaven, groomed to perfection, but somehow he still has a rugged quality that makes him even hotter.

“Nick,” I say and take a deep, calming breath. “You startled me.”

“I apologize. I pressed the doorstone to ring the bell, and the door opened for me.”

“Oz must have known I wanted to see you,” I say, and the enchanting smile he gives me in return makes my heart race in my chest.

“It is too late to go out, but I thought we could talk awhile. We may not get to do that again.”

The truth of that statement makes my heart hurt.

“Tomorrow we will get to see the Wizard,” he says and sighs.

“I just know he’ll let you stay. Do you like it here so far?”

“It’s lavish here at the palace. I am sure the other homes in the city are not like this.”

“I’d guess not,” I agree.

“So, tomorrow we may never see each other again, if all goes well that is,” he says, and my heart grows heavy.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“I will miss you too, Dorothy,” he says, knowing just what I was thinking. My head drops. “But it is best that you go back to your family in Kansas. It is dangerous in this realm.”

“I know.”

“After everything we have been through, you must want to get far away from here,” he says, reminding me of why this is for the best. I think of all the battles, zombies, Kalidahs, vampires, blood, and vanquishing, and… it wasn’t so awful. But that’s because I have these boots.

“It wasn’t so terrible. These boots, they make it so I’m able to fight and stay protected. They make me fearless. If I didn’t have them, I’d have run screaming from every one of those vampires,” I admit. “These boots make me feel strong. The life I lived before I came here never tested me this way. I assume I would have run away screaming in fear, but I’ve never had a similar experience before to know.”

“You are the strongest woman I have ever known,” he says to me.

“I don’t feel that way all the time.”

With him, I feel sad and weak. Sad this is the end of us knowing each other, sad he won’t kiss me. If he did, I would be so weak I would want to stay, and he doesn’t feel that way for me. We’re friends, good friends, but he doesn’t see me the way I see him. It hurts, but I am happy to have his friendship, even if it will be over in a matter of hours.

“I’m glad you’re here in the Vampire-Free Zone. You don’t have to wear your armor all the time anymore. You don’t have to walk around with axes strapped to your body here,” I say with a smile. He smiles back.

“I will miss you smiling at me most,” he says, and I swoon a little. I’m sure he noticed because he lets out a soft chuckle.

My cheeks go so hot I turn away from him, awkward and mortified, and bump into the copper and crystal chair behind me. Desperate to cover up my goofiness, I sit in the chair and do my best to act nonchalant, like I meant to slam into the chair before I sat. When I muster the courage to look at him, I find he’s sat down opposite me at the ornate breakfast table to my right that looks like it grew right out of the floor of this massive balcony. His smile lights up his face and I realize I’m being so dumb right now. Tomorrow I may never see that face again. I shouldn’t worry about all this other crap. What I should do is hang out with my friend for the last time. It sucks, but it’s how it has to be. My place is there, not here.

“I hate I have to go, but I want to go home. I need to. Beyond this journey I do not know what I would do here. I’d be alone. I mean, I’d have you, Ardie, and the Werelion as friends but that’s it. The Werelion will return to the forest once he gets his courage. Ardie will become a man and stay here. You will meet a girl and get married. I have no place here. My place is in Kansas, at least for now. I may move to another part of my world at some point, or I hope to anyway.”

“Where will you move?”

“Somewhere more exciting than where I am in Kansas, so I can have adventures like the one we’ve had, but without vampires.”

“What adventures do you want to have?”

“I want to go to school in a place with color. I want to meet all sorts of people, fall in love, try all sorts of new things, taste all different kinds of foods, see sights, amazing sights, all over my world—I want to travel, but not on foot, like we did. It takes too long.”

The emerald tabletop before us opens up in a kaleidoscope of geometric emerald shapes and we both shove back, but when we do, two emerald trays holding emerald dinner plates with juicy cheeseburgers and big fat steak fries, black and white milkshakes with whipped cream and a cherry on top, a slice of cherry pie à la mode, and mozzarella sticks. I laugh in shock when I see it, my favorite meal of all time. Before I moved to Kansas, I lived in New York with my parents. There was a diner near our house that my dad and I would go to when my mom had stuff going on at night and gave him the task of making dinner. We’d order breakfast from there on Sundays when we’d let my mom sleep in. I have missed this meal.

“What is all this?” Nick says as we both scoot our chairs back toward the table.

“It’s my favorite meal from when I was a kid.”

“What is it? I’ve seen nothing like it before.”

“It’s a staple where I come from, but there are places all over the world in my realm where the food is nothing like this. There are different cuisines in almost each place you’d go, and I want to try them all.”

“You will try them when you travel to those places.”

“Yeah, to travel the world is my dream. For a minute there I was thinking I might be a flight attendant—I could travel to places for free—but I wouldn’t get to stay for too long that way. And I don’t think you get to choose where to go. I don’t know how I’ll make that happen for myself. But falling in love, I’d like to do that. ”

“Me too,” he says and smiles a smile that makes my heart flutter at the sight of it. He is so charming, and a lovely person. He’s my true friend. We may have started out a bit off, but we are ending as true friends.

We finish eating and rise from the table. When I reach out to clear the plates, the table opens up and swallows our trays. A huffed laugh escapes me as Nick steps toward me and says, “I will miss you, Dorothy.”

“Oh, Nick, I will miss you, and I’ll never forget you.”

“I could never forget you,” he says, and I throw my arms around him in a huge hug. After a moment, he hugs me back just as tight.

“All the best things in life is what I wish for you. I wish you all the happiness in all the realms,” I say, and I mean it so much.

“And I wish the same for you. For you to see yourself as I do is what I wish for you,” he says, sounding sad.

“And I wish the same for you,” I tell him.

He pulls back and takes me in, then kisses my cheek.

“I will see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning. Sweet dreams,” I say, and he smiles, letting me go before he walks off the balcony and out of my room, the door sliding closed behind him.

Sorrow cracks open inside me like a dozen eggs at the bottom of a grocery bag, and I burst into tears. It feels like my heart is breaking. I miss him already. Nick and Ardie and the Werelion—I will miss them all so much. This is the end of the road for us. Part of me doesn’t want to leave them, but I know this situation is temporary. They will move on and I’ll be alone here. It would be wrong not to tell my aunt and uncle I am alive. They must be so worried or sad thinking I am dead. But this time I’ve spent with these three lovely beings has been the best time of my life. It has also been the scariest, the hardest, and the most trying, but still the best. They are my best friends by far, and I will miss them more than any words I could concoct could ever express. Once I get back to Kansas, I will be okay though, and I will be grateful to be home.

I hope.

After a few deep, cleansing breaths, I dry my tears, take off the dress, hang it in the massive closet filled with old timey clothes, and get into bed wearing my old timey underwear that are a lot like old lady pajamas. Toto is already asleep in the small bed on the floor. I’d say it’s a dog bed, but they don’t have dogs here. Perhaps it’s meant for a large cat. Magic turns out the lights as I snuggle into the soft bed covered in luxurious linens. Sadness weighs heavy on my eyelids, and I drift into a deep sleep.

17

The Great and Terrible Wizard of Oz

The smell of sizzling hot bacon and dark roast coffee fill my senses and my eyes flutter open from a deep, refreshing sleep. When my vision comes into focus, I find a gorgeous breakfast set on a tray on the end table before me. Misty green magic in the shape of a rotating table fan blows the smell of my breakfast right in my face.

“I’m awake,” I say as I sit up and scan the room to find Toto in his dog bed gnawing roast meat off a large bone in a state of carnivorous bliss. His little grunts and growls as he tears the meat off the bone with his teeth are nothing short of adorable.

As I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, the mist surrounds me. The next thing I know, I’m standing in the bathroom.

“Thanks,” I say and go use the facilities. When I come out, the mist lifts and carries me back to the plunge pool.

“Oh, wait. I—” I say as I’m dropped into the water.

When I come up for air, the suffocating bubbles surround me again, and after a thorough scrubbing, I’m lifted out of the tub and set on the drying platform. Station by station, I’m brought through the same rigmarole as last night, but this time only the magic of Oz is tending to my grooming. Hands of mist powder me and carry crystal wands that illuminate my skin and style my hair.

When I’m whisked over to the makeup station, my breakfast floats in on a green cloud and hovers before me. As the mist lifts powders and creams and brings them to my face, I eat my delicious breakfast of crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and waffles slathered in whipped green butter and doused in glittering green syrup.

Once I finish my breakfast, I brush my teeth and when I’m done, folded undergarments and a long green silk dress with a sweetheart neckline and fluttery short sleeves appears in glittering fog and floats at my side. To my surprise, the undergarments are a green lace and silk under-wire bra and matching bikini cut underwear. I take the underwear and put it on. The mist lifts the dress over my head, I raise my arms, and it slips on with ease.

When I take a step toward the mirrors to see how I look, a thick mist surrounds me, clouds of green take over my vision, and after a moment, the fog disperses. I stand before a large door with Toto at my feet. He has a velvet green bow tied around his neck and his coat shines like he just had a meticulous grooming.

“Oh! Dorothy! You look so beautiful,” Ardie says behind me. When I turn around, Ardie and Werelion are there looking dashing—Ardie wears a fancy green velvet suit while Werelion wears green bows tied in his curled mane.

“Thank you. You look very handsome. Both of you.” The large copper and emerald pavé door opens to Jellia standing on the other side with a bright smile on her face.

“Hello and good morning. Your traveling companion is already inside with the Wizard. He will see you all one at a time. Come along.” Jellia pivots on her heel and walks off. With every step I take toward her, my heart beats faster and sweat dampens my palms.

The door shutters closed behind us with a resounding clunk as the many ladies and gentlemen of the court, all dressed in rich costumes, turn and gawk at us as we enter the great hall. I’d say it was a ballroom if there weren’t so many other things going on in here. It’s like a salon or a common area. People play games like chess, backgammon, cards, and other strange board games I’ve never seen across emerald tables throughout the room. There’s a buffet with little cakes and cookies, pastries, baked goods of all sorts, and a green cut-crystal bowl of chartreuse punch that effervesces.

Jellia slows and walks at my side, leans into my ear and whispers, “These people have nothing to do other than talk to each other, but they always come to wait outside his door every morning even though they may never see Oz.”

As we approach the even larger door on the other side of the grand room, they gawk at us with unbridled curiosity, and one of them asks me in a low tone:

“Will you set your eyes upon the face of Oz the Terrible?”

Jellia pulls me along before I can answer but leans in and whispers in my ear, “The wizard does not like to have people ask to see him. At first, he was angry you asked to see him and said to send you back where you came from, but then he heard about your silver shoes and became very much interested. It was then that he decided he would admit you to his presence.”

As we arrive at the even larger copper and emerald pavé door, a bell rings. A split-second after that, Nick emerges looking so handsome, dressed like a prince, but his eyes are heavy with distress. Before I can ask him what’s wrong, Jellia says, “That is the signal. You must go into the Hall of Mirrors alone. Now,” and shoves me though the door. In a blink, it slides shut behind me.

My heart is in my throat pounding fast as I search the grand hall. Big and round with a high arched roof, the walls, ceiling, and floor are all mirrors in emerald and copper panes echoing an endless sea of vacant reflections. In the center of the roof is a great light, as bright as the sun, which makes the mirrors and the emeralds sparkle and cast brilliant bands and streamers about the room.

As I watch the light whirl around the room in an auroral dance, an old man’s face with sharp white brows and wild white hair appears in every mirror and looks as though it’s scrutinizing me from every possible angle. I shudder as his eyes bug out of his head like he’s incensed I’ve disturbed him.

“I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you seek me?”

I gulp down my growing anxiety and answer.

“Um… I am Dorothy… the Small and Meek. I have come to you for help.” Ugh. I should have thought about what I would say before I came in here.

After a long silence, he asks, “Where did you get the silver shoes?”

“From the Vampire Witch of the East, when my house fell on her and killed her.” His bulging eyes narrow in accusation and it occurs to me that he might have been friends with her, so I explain straightaway. “It wasn’t intentional. I didn’t mean to kill her, and I didn’t take the shoes or anything. They appeared on my feet and I can’t get them off. I was hoping you could help me with that and then send me back to Kansas, where I came from.”

He looks left, then right, up, down, and his reflections all seem to be looking in different directions like he is seeing every part of the room at once—it’s unnerving. When I’m thoroughly freaked out, he looks at me again.

“Why should I help you?”

“You should help me because you are strong and powerful, and I am not. You should help me because you are a great wizard and I am only a teenage girl.”

“Only a teenage girl? How is it then that you were strong enough to kill the Vampire Witch of the East?”

“That was an accident. It just happened.”

“You have no right to expect me to send you back to Kansas!” shouts the Wizard. “Unless you do something for me in return. In this country, everyone must pay for everything he gets. If you wish me to use my magic power to send you home, you must do something for me first. When you help me, I will help you.”

“What must I do?” I ask, knowing I’d do anything to get home.

“You must kill the Vampire Witch of the West,” answers Oz.

Anything but that.

“What? I can’t do that.”

“You killed the Vampire Witch of the East and you wear the silver shoes, which bear a powerful charm. There is now but one Vampire Witch left in all this land, and when you can tell me she is dead, I will send you back to Kansas—but not before.”

How can I stake out and murder a Vampire Witch?

“I’ve killed nothing on purpose. The only thing I’ve killed are vampires and zombies trying to kill me. It was in self-defense. When I killed the first Vampire Witch, it was a complete and total accident. Even if I wanted to, how could I kill this Vampire Witch? If you, who are Great and Terrible, cannot kill her yourself, how do you expect me to do it?”

“That is my answer. Until the Vampire Witch dies, you will not see Kansas again. Now go, and do not ask to see me again until you have completed your task!” the Wizard’s head booms at me, and I flinch.

Heavy with sorrow, I hurry out through the giant door back to where Werelion, Ardie, and Nick are waiting.

“Oz won’t send me home until I have killed the Vampire Witch of the West, and I just don’t think I can do it.”

I burst into tears and rush off, Toto in tow, as a thick, green mist envelops me. In an instant, I find myself back in my suite falling face first into the bed.

Deep, heart-wrenching sobs pour out as thoughts of a life alone in this monstrous land flood my mind—I’ll be here forever, my family will never know that I survived the cyclone, and I’ll be alone. Now I have my friends, but they will all go back to their lives and I will end up alone. I’ll have Toto and nothing more. Where will I live? What will I do? How will I support myself? I will need to find a job, but what? I need to find a place to live.

There is a light knock at my door and a head peeks in. It’s Nick. He sees me crying and comes in. Sympathy fills his eyes at the sight of me bawling.

“What am I going to do? I have nothing here. Nowhere to live, no idea how I will support myself, or survive. I’m screwed.”

“It will be all right, Dorothy,” he says and sits beside me on the bed and strokes my back.

“How do you figure? I’ll have to stay, and I have nothing here. Ardie will go back to his job, his life. The Werelion will go back to the forest or stay here and do his shifter thing. I hear they stay in their groups. You will find a girl to fall in love with and start your family, and I will be alone, homeless, and destitute,” I sob.

“Nothing changes for me unless the witch dies. The Wizard told me if I did not kill the Vampire Witch of the West, he would not permit me to stay here, and I would forever be heartless,” he says, and I’m flabbergasted.

“But he told me I had to kill her,” I say, confused.

“He wants her dead and I do not think he cares which one of us kills her. I think he intends for us to go together.”

This stuns me out of my self-pity, and I sit up beside him.

“I cannot believe this!” Angry at his request, angry the wizard is demanding this of either of us, and sad for Nick that he has to do this with me, I steam as I begin pacing, my mind in a scramble to find a way out of this, a loophole, something.

“You don’t have to do it. I’ll go, and I’ll kill her,” he says.

“Nick, I am not letting you go alone.”

“I need you to stay safe, Dorothy.”

“Well, I need you to stay safe. These silver boots will keep me safe, and I still haven’t used most of the weapons in my bag. They’ll help me take her out.”

“I am so sorry, Dorothy.”

“No, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t killed that Vampire Witch, he wouldn’t be asking this of us,” I sigh in regret. “It wasn’t even me. My house landed on her! I tried to tell him, but he didn’t care. That head is a dick. He’s a dickhead,” I say pissed and Nick chuckles.

“Head?”

“He was a humongous old man head with shifty eyes.”

“For me, he presented himself as a most terrible beast ten times the size of Werelion. It had a horn and five eyes on its face, five long arms growing out of its body, and it had five long, slim legs. Thick, woolly hair covered every part. A more dreadful-looking monster I could not imagine. It was menacing the way he appeared in every mirror in the hall,” he tells me and shudders a bit.

“I suppose I should be grateful he was only a huge head when I met him.”

“You should.”

“I hope Ardie and the Werelion have better luck.”

“The Werelion was going in when I came after you. Ardie would be next. When they finish, they will come here to see you. I told them where the room was.”

“I’m sorry he’s making you do this. It’s because of me, because I killed the first Vampire Witch,” I say, heavy with regret.

“No, Dorothy, it is not your fault.”

“It is. I killed her and these boots just appeared on my feet and now…” I say and cry.

“No,” he says wrapping his arms around me, holding me to him, comforting me. “I am glad he asked it of me for I would never let you go alone.”

I hug him back, wrapping my arms around him.

“You are so handsome in your fancy clothes. Like a prince,” I tell him through my tears, mustering up a smile. He smiles back.

“You are like a princess.”

“It’s a nice dress isn’t it? I thought it would help me convince my aunt this place was real. Now I’ll never get there, and I’ll be homeless, penniless, and alone in this scary place.”

“You will not. We will kill the Vampire Witch and you will return to Kansas where you will be safe.”

“I can’t imagine going after someone and murdering them. If she came after me, tried to kill me, I could defend myself, but to stake her out to kill her? I can’t do that,” I say and the tears come again as I hug him tight and he strokes my back to comfort me.

“I can, and I will. If that is what it takes to get you to Kansas, I will do it.”

“What if we fail? Then what?”

“If I survive, I will keep my promise to you. I will take care of you.”

“But what about your own life? I can’t do that to you. And the second you get a girlfriend, she won’t like me hanging around all the time,” I remind him.

“Dorothy—” he starts then the door slides open and Werelion’s pops in from around the door jamb.

“Dorothy?” Ardie says peeking his head in over the Werelion’s.

“Come in,” I tell them, and they do, the door sliding closed behind them. “Did you get your cure? And your courage?” I ask, and they both deflate.

“He also told us to kill the Vampire Witch,” Ardie tells me. “If she is dead, we will all get our wishes. We have four days to prepare, one for each of us, and then we must leave the palace and the city until we vanquish her. After that, we may return and collect our wishes.”

“This is awful. It’s all my fault.”

“No,” Ardie tells me. “It is not. The Wizard requires a price, and this is it. We would not allow you to go alone no matter what. It is best this way.”

“Yeah,” the Werelion says. “We’ll kill that Vampire Witch. We’ll get her good,” he says, his eyes narrowed in determination.

“They have given us four days to prepare?” Nick asks.

“Yes. I will stock up on brains for the trip. They have many zombie restaurants here. I attended many through the night. There are so many zombies in this city. It is quite the scene.”

“Ardie met a lady zombie last night,” the Werelion discloses with a conspiratorial giggle.

“Shh. Dorothy doesn’t want to hear that,” Ardie says, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do. You met a girl?”

“She’s not a girl. She’s a woman, and yes, I did. I quite like her,” he says and Werelion giggles.

“We are going out with her and her shifter friend tonight for dinner,” Werelion says brimming with excitement.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“You may both come if you wish,” says Ardie.

“On your date? No thanks. But maybe Nick will go if she has a friend for him too, a living girl.”

“No, I will stay with Dorothy,” Nick says.

“Good. Someone should,” Ardie says.

“I don’t need a babysitter. Besides, I have Toto to protect me.”

“We can see the city,” Nick says.

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I’m pretty depressed. All I want to do is lie here and cry.”

“I will not allow you to wallow in this room,” Nick says.

“But that’s what I want to do,” I pout.

“Nick is right. You should enjoy your time here. Perhaps there will be something you see that will help us on our journey,” Ardie says.

“So what if I do? I have no money from your realm to buy it with,” I remind him.

“I do,” Nick says.

“You need to save your money.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I spend my money, Dorothy,” he warns with a raised brow.

“But—”

“Enough arguing. You will do as I say.”

“You’re not my dad,” I scoff.

“I know it. But you are not my mother either and if I want to spend my money on you, I will.”

“All right, fine,” I shrug with a dismissive wave of my hand. If he wants to waste his money on me, I guess I won’t stop him, but I have no need for anything at the moment. I may let him buy me dinner though.

“It will be all right, Dorothy. We will kill the Vampire Witch together. We will all get what we desire,” Ardie tries to reassure me.

This is all because of me and now they have to put their lives on the line. I can’t let them do that. I need to go alone. Maybe I can talk to the wizard about letting them stay here while I go. He said he didn’t want to see me again until she dies though. But I can try to get a message to him. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. They might be mad once they’ve realized I’ve left, but they’ll get over it. Soon enough, they’ll see it was best for me to take responsibility for my own actions, inadvertent or not. I killed the Vampire Witch of the East, not them. He would never ask this of them if it weren’t for me, and I can’t imagine everyone who lives in this city paid such a steep price for entry.

“The Wizard has the cure for zombiism?” Nick asks Ardie.

“Yes, of course he does,” Ardie says.

“He has courage for me too… If we make it back,” Werelion says as worry etches lines in his face.

“Let us meet again tomorrow for breakfast, and afterward, if you agree, I would love to bring Toto along with me for the afternoon,” Ardie says.

“He’d love to go with you tomorrow,” I say and Ardie smiles, scratches Toto’s head, we say goodbye, and he leaves with Werelion.

“Would you like to spend the day with me, Dorothy?” Nick asks.

“Um…” I say and hesitate. I like the idea of wallowing in my self-pity alone in this room.

“Allow me to rephrase. We will spend the day seeing the sights of the city. I will go change into less formal attire. Perhaps you might like to do the same.”

“Fine,” I say as I sigh, feeling so pathetic.

“Good. I will return soon,” he says, kisses my cheek, pets Toto, and goes.

Once he’s gone, I press my palm to the wall and ask aloud, “Is there a way for me to send a message to the Wizard?”

Magical mist swirls inside the emerald wall and I lift my hand away as it forms what looks like a piece of parchment paper with a feather quill beside it.

“Um…”

Does this work like a tablet? Do I need to drag the quill to the page to write? As I reach out to try it, the quill emerges from the wall in light and floats into my hand.

“Thank you,” I say, and step forward to write a letter to the Wizard. Simple and straightforward should be enough—I doubt he wants me to waste his time—so I’ll make my request and hope he agrees.

To the Great and Terrible Wizard of Oz,

I would like to request permission to represent Nick Chopper, Millard Vorona, and the Werelion in the Vampire Witch of the West’s assassination. Because I am the only one who killed the Vampire Witch of the East and the only one with the silver boots, I am the only one needed on this mission. Please allow me to make this journey for the four of us and kindly permit them to stay in your city until I return. They are all talented men who would be great assets to your community. Their only mistake was traveling here with me. Please do not punish them for my actions. Thank you for considering my request.

Yours truly,

Dorothy Gale

I step back and reread the note, but then I realize I don’t know how to deliver it, so I say, “Can you send it straight to him?” After a short moment, the message disappears and so does the quill in my hand.

I give this magic helper thing another go and say, “I need something to wear to walk around the city and see the sights. Any suggestions?”

A pair of dark green shorts and a green blouse appear before me midair. I’m surprised to see something I’d wear back home in front of me. As I reach out to take them, magic lifts the dress I’m wearing over my head and whips it off my body.

I reach out and take the blouse and shorts and put them on, only struggling a bit with getting my boots through the leg holes. As I go to the nearest mirror to see how I look, the thick mist engulfs me again and sets me at the full-length infinity mirror in the bathroom. When the mist disperses, I check myself out—I’m surprised by how much I like this outfit. It may not be on-trend here, but I am far more comfortable in this than a silk dress. Then I notice my face and it’s obvious I’ve been crying—my cheeks are red, my eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and my nose is bright pink.

“Can you help me with this?” I ask the magic of the room as I point to my face and a misty hand emerges to wave me over to the makeup station. When I head over, the misty hand motions for me to sit in the emerald chair, so I do. After a few moments of glittery mist and powder and brushes painting my face, I’m as good as new and still not overdone. It’s too bad I can’t bring this built-in stylist slash makeup artist back to Kansas with me. Although I may never get back to Kansas. But if that’s the case, I couldn’t live in this city anyhow. The Wizard’s made that clear.

The emerald goggles they gave me when I arrived appear midair before me, so I take them and put them on as a chime sounds. It must be Nick. I head out into the living room area right as the door opens for him. When he steps inside, Toto greets him at the door by jumping up on his leg for a head scratch. When he notices me, his eyes widen before he turns around as if he’s caught me naked.

“I apologize. The door opened and I—”

“I’m dressed, Nick.”

He turns to face me with a goggle-eyed expression. His eyes are even wider and his brows are knit in confusion. When I roll my eyes at him and my self-consciousness, a slow grin appears on his lips and his eyes darken, making my cheeks blush.

“They’re shorts. I wear them almost every day at home.”

“They are short,” he says as his brow arches and I roll my eyes at him.

“Should I change? Is it too revealing?”

“No. Nothing but your legs show. Your very long, perfectly shaped legs,” he smolders.

“Ugh. Am I going to get accosted by pervs in this?”

“Pervs?”

“Perverts. Smarmy guys trying to make it with me.”

“I will be with you, so no,” he says and the look that takes over his eyes is deadly. I giggle at him and he smiles.

“You look beautiful, Dorothy. Let us go. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Toto, are you ready?” Nick asks Toto who stands at his feet wagging his tail, very ready to get outside. Toto barks his answer, Nick proffers his arm for me to take, and we head out of my suite for a day of sightseeing where I will do my best to enjoy myself and not ruminate on my unanswered request to the Wizard.

18

The Enchanted Hollow

We go out into the city and so many people are out and about. Humans, shifters, and zombies wear fine emerald colored clothing, walk on the green marble streets. Some of them are shopping or dining at restaurants while others work. It’s as packed as Times Square during the holidays. Toto stays close to my feet, and people startle when they see him and stare, then they stare at my outfit. Why the magic of Oz suggested this outfit is beyond me. It’s not as though it’s too revealing, it’s that it’s so unlike anything anyone here is wearing. The fashion here is like the fashion of the Victorian era with high collars and corsets and ruffles. Some men have the fairytale prince look with the fine tailcoats, ruffled shirts, and capris pants over stockings, while others look like pirates with worn leather pants and loose shirts. Then there are the shifters—while some wear at least an article or two of clothing to cover their goodies, others let it all hang out. My eyes are bugging out of my head, and my reaction tickles Nick a bit too much.

“You want to stop laughing at me?” I say, giving him the side eye.

“The look on your face,” he says, cracking up. “When you saw her…” he says and stops because he’s laughing too hard.

“She was a baboon shifter in heat. Give me a damn break,” I say, and he laughs so hard tears come to his eyes, and I can’t help but laugh along with him.

We come upon a pretty bistro for humans that smells divine, so he offers to take me to lunch and I accept. They seat us on a charming garden patio covered in dancing flowers. It’s the pinnacle of romantic and even though I know this setting for our lunch was not intentional, I only fall harder. He’s sweet to me, even holding my hand across the table, and it makes my heart race. Over and over, he tells me I’m his best friend, and even though I see him as so much more, I am still honored to be his best friend. He is mine too, but I also feel far more than friendship for him. Head over heels is what I am, and it’s a good thing I am alone in it because I wouldn’t leave if he reciprocated my feelings.

Part of me has a hope that he is lying, that he has stronger feelings for me and is only saying he doesn’t because he wants me to go back home to stay safe, but that’s not it. If he felt that way about me, he would ask me to stay here in the vampire free zone with him. We would be safe here. If he felt for me the way I feel for him, he would want to have that life with me, not have hopes of finding a girl to love in the vampire free zone. So, I know he just sees me as a close friend, even his best friend. Even though he cares for me, likes me plenty, I’m just not the one for him, and even though I wish I was, he should be so in love with the woman he marries, not see her as a best friend type. What I wish for him is that he feels for her the way I feel for him.

“What are you thinking of, Dorothy?” he asks me as we finish our dessert of green ice-cream, delicious deep green berries, and a piece of green cake, and I suppose I have been silent for a while.

“How much I will miss you,” I tell him—I will always wonder what he’s up to, what his wife will be like, his children, how he is doing—I will think of him always.

“However much I will miss you, it will make me happy to know you are safe in your realm, wherever you may go in it, and I will think of you traveling in flying machines to all the places you want to go with pink sands and clear blue waters or red rocks and deep blue rivers, big cities with high towers, and people speaking many languages, and all your dreams coming true.”

“Do you think there’s a way for us to keep in touch? I’d love to know what you are up to after I’ve gone.”

“No, I do not think there is a way to do that. There will be nothing to tell on my end for it will be very much the same as it is now.”

“How so? In the vampire free zone, you’ll be safe for the first time in a long time. If you’re here, you’ll meet a girl you’ll fall in love with and start a family free of vampires.”

With a deep sigh he says, “This city will become infected by the plague soon enough. It is only a matter of time.”

“Why do you say that? The gate is solid.”

“There is one soldier at the gate. One. A few soldiers on the rampart who have never seen a day of battle in their lives. Many of these people were born and raised here, especially the ones who work at the palace. I’ve asked. There is no military presence. A few soldiers at the palace and a guardian at the gate. That is it. Vampires can fly. They can just fly over the city walls. Right now, they respect the rule because of the treaty the Wizard has with the Vampire Witch, but when the last Vampire Witch is dead, the vampires will not honor the treaty.”

“So why are you doing this with me?”

“Because you are my best friend and you need me to return to Kansas. For as long as they keep it vampire free, I can stay here, but I do not expect that will be very long.”

“If we don’t kill the Vampire Witch the treaty will stay in place,” I say, alarmed and overcome with worry.

“That may be true, but she keeps creating more and more vampires. If you consider it, take all into account, for the sake of the rest of the realm it is better for her to die. This is only one city.”

“But don’t vampires turn people?”

“They do, but the Witch turns more. She enslaves entire towns, turns them all in one spell.”

“Oh my,” I gasp, horrified to hear it although I do not know why after being here for these past weeks.

“Let us not talk about it for we have only two more days of each other’s company without worry or dread.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I am glad to hear you say it and not argue with me,” he smirks.

“Don’t get used to it,” I say, and his laugh lights up his handsome face. “Let’s get out of here,” I suggest, and a winsome grin crosses his perfect lips.

Nick calls the waiter over and pays with coins of various metals before we go back out into the city.

“Thank you for lunch,” I say as we stroll down a busy avenue looking at all the shifter and zombie themed storefronts, and I want to be paying attention, taking it all in, but all I can think of is what Nick said about what it means for this city when the Vampire Witch of the West dies.

Is it selfish of me to see this mission through? None of us can live here if we don’t do as the Wizard commands. None of us get our wish. But is that enough of a reason to kill someone in cold blood, even if that someone is a cold-blooded, undead, wicked vampire witch? Nick thinks it’s better to kill her because this is just one city, but is it the best idea to destroy the one safe place in the realm? Werelion can find courage another way or move into the tunnels with the other friendly shifters outside the city. Ardie could still find his cure without the Wizard. Fine, so he can’t live here, but there are other nice places I’d bet. Nick may have to keep murdering night creatures, but his idea that he’s heartless is total bull. Soon enough, he’ll find the perfect woman for him and nothing but her will matter. For her, he’ll do anything including love her and marry her and have kids with her. He doesn’t need to be in this city to do that. And my life in Kansas is gray in every way. If I’m being honest, I don’t expect more out of life there—it’s like I’ve always known somehow that my life there would always lack the colors I long for.

If I kill the last Vampire Witch and get to go home, I know I’ll end up with someone like Billy—a good looking enough, nice enough guy who likes me and doesn’t expect or need passion or fireworks. I may even end up with Billy. In two years, he’ll come home and we’ll start seeing each other again because there’s no one else around. I’ll be in community college nearby and I’ll move to his farm next to mine and live a boring but very similar life to the one I had before I left Kansas on a cyclone. Or maybe I could find someone like Nick when I go somewhere new. Maybe he’d like me back. Maybe I can have the life I dream of. Or maybe I’ll always be the friend to a guy like him and never graduate to the status of a girlfriend or a wife—I’ll have all these deep feelings and he’ll just see me as his friend and nothing more. But maybe I can find a guy I love who will love me back. That is my hope, my dream now—I want to find someone like Nick, but who will love me too, and not just as a dear friend. Though I wish it could be him, that he could come with me, but it might be hard for him in my realm.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“How I wish you could come with me back to Kansas but that my realm is not a place you would enjoy living in.”

“Why would I not enjoy it?”

“Life there is very different. For one, machines do your trade now. People operate the machines but I doubt you would enjoy that job. Maybe you could go to college, get a GED, a high school equivalency diploma, and study to do something else, but you don’t have a social security number or anything like it.”

“What is that?”

“A number assigned to you at birth to identify you as a citizen of a country. Numbers, licenses, all very important in my realm. There’s no certificate of birth for you—it’d be like you didn’t exist. That would make things difficult. Maybe we could handle it, get you a false identity somehow, but it’d be hard to do. And my world is hard. These days, it’s hard to get a job. For most people, it’s hard to make money, and if you’re not a legal citizen, it’s almost impossible. When I’m out of school, I could support you, but you couldn’t go to school until you were a legal citizen or had a student visa. And it’s not colorful where I am. Like I said, it’s gray and boring compared to here with such vibrant colors in every possible shade everywhere you look. I think you might hate my realm. Even though I want you to come, it would be selfish of me to bring you along.”

“I see.”

“Not that you’d want to come—I just wish you could come with me. I will miss you, a lot.”

“If it is like this in your realm… never mind.”

“What?”

“Well, I was going to ask why you’d want to go back but I want you to go back. At least it is free of vampires and deadly night creatures.”

“If it wasn’t safe, I wouldn’t want to, except to tell my family I’m alive. Back home, I don’t have friends like you and Ardie and the Werelion.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I’m so lonely out on that farm. There’s no one around. Billy, my ex-boyfriend, will be back from school in two years and I just know I’ll end up married to him, living a boring, mediocre life in a mediocre relationship because there’s nothing better for me. But here, you guys are all I have, and it’d be the same for me here as it would be for you there. If I stay here, I’ll end up alone in some lame job as a milkmaid for General Boq or something. Soon enough, you’ll meet your future wife and I’ll be lucky if you have any time at all to hang out with me.”

“I would never stop being your friend, but it won’t matter because you have to return. Dorothy, you are my best friend, and I want all the best things for you.”

“Oh Nick, I feel the same about you.” As I throw my arms around him and hug him tight, I say, “The woman you end up with will be so lucky to have you.”

When I release him from our hug, he lays one of his ladykiller grins on me, and we continue to stroll down the road side by side. As we walk our shoulders touch, and when our knuckles graze, he pulls my hand into his and squeezes. Although it’s clearly a friendly gesture, my heart still does backflips in my chest. With one deep quavering breath after another, I calm my thudding heart and focus my attention on the surrounding city.

Emerald roads and emerald sidewalks line a row of swanky skyscraper apartment buildings. Each one has a grand lobby carved from massive emerald crystals in intricate designs. Uniformed zombie and shifter doormen stand at each door. At the building up ahead, a little marmoset shifter exits through the lobby doors carrying a clutch with flowers embroidered on it. A sweet bow sits in the fur atop her head, and she wears blush and maybe even some mascara.

As the marmoset shifter approaches, a zombie doorman in a green uniform with copper buttons pulls a braided cord at the end of the awning. When he yanks the cord, a bubble blows from the corner of the awning to just the right size for the marmoset. And when he releases the cord, the bubble detaches and hovers. The doorman bends down, lifts the little marmoset, and puts her inside the bubble. When he releases her, she floats, and when he removes his hands the bubble drifts away.

“So cool,” I say with a laugh and look to Nick who watches me with an amused grin. “Are you so used to magic living here that my reaction is funny to you?”

“Oh, I am not used to it. Only sorcerers wield magic where I’m from. Although I have seen magic, it was never like this.”

“What is it like where you’re from?”

As we stroll around, he tells me all about what it was like living outside Munchkin Land and what he describes sounds kind of like Kansas but with more color and more parades. Not having television and movies makes people want to have more parades, I guess. At least when you’re a Munchkin. I tell him about the limited forms of entertainment available to us in Kansas and he’s fascinated by the idea of television and movies, the internet and computers, smartphones and tablets, and wants to see them. How I wish I could come back and show him a movie or a smartphone. There are so many things I’d like to show him.

If I had my own place in Kansas, if I was on my own, I’d ask him to come back with me, but I know Aunt Em and Uncle Henry wouldn’t let me bring a boy home to live with us. And my realm would be so strange to him with cars and planes and machines. Education, schooling, he wouldn’t have any under his belt—he would have a hard time getting a job for so many reasons. Life in my realm would be hard for him, and he would hate it—it’s a very different life.

The more time I spend with him, the more I want him to kiss me, and it hurts he isn’t on the same page, but it wouldn’t matter if he were because I am getting out of this realm. There is no other option, but I hate what it will take to do it. These boots will help me with the task though. More than that, I hate that he has roped Nick, Ardie, and Werelion into it with me. This task will be far more dangerous than the journey here. Maybe I can do it alone. Maybe they can just wait here, either in an inn or outside the city somewhere nearby, while I kill the Vampire Witch on my own. Toto can stay with Ardie. All I need is directions and food and I can go with my bag of weapons.

“What is it?” Nick asks me as we stroll through the city after our dinner.

“I…” I start but then I think better of it, knowing he will argue with me.

“What?” he presses.

If I sneak out and go, they’ll just come after me. My best hope is that the Wizard will agree to my request and command I go alone. If he doesn’t though, I need to persuade them to stay behind somehow.

“All this is my fault, and I want to go alone to kill the Vampire Witch.”

“That will not happen,” he says shaking his head.

“Why not? This is because of me—I’m the one with the boots—and I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Out of the question. Although I do not hate the thought of you staying behind and allowing me to go alone to complete the task.”

“No, never.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my task. Because I’m the one with these silver boots stuck on my feet.”

“Dorothy, you must stay safe. That is more important than my place here, or Ardie’s cure, or giving a werebeast courage.”

“Why when I have more protection than any of you? On my feet I have magical boots that help me kick serious butt, and I have a bag of weapons given to me by a witch I haven’t even used yet. What’s smarter is for me to go alone.”

“Dorothy, I will never let you go alone.”

“Why?” I ask, baffled.

“Because,” he says, and that’s all he says.

“That’s a great reason,” I chortle.

“The Wizard gave the task to us all and we will all travel to the land of the Winkies together,” he insists.

“This is an out I’m giving you, a chance not to worry about any of this. If we succeed, this city will no longer be safe, so your stake in this is low. Walk away right now and forget about all of this with a clear conscience. Why won’t you? Why do you care so much?” I challenge.

“Even though I am a heartless killer of vampires, it is not as if I do not care about anything or anyone at all.”

“So, you admit you have a heart?”

“I am very frustrated with you, Dorothy,” he admits.

“Because I got you to admit you’re not heartless?” I smirk and he cracks a smile.

“Since I have met you, I have realized I can care for others.”

“Because you were alone before. Now you have us. Me, Ardie, and Werelion. You have friends, people to care for. That’s the difference.”

“Notice you are the only person on that list.”

“Well, Ardie will be a living man again, and the Werelion was once anyway,” I say and shrug.

“Don’t forget Toto,” he says with a grin.

“And Toto,” I add.

“Dorothy, you are dear to me—a dear friend,” he says, not wanting me to misconstrue his affection for something more, and it annoys me. I must make a face because he notices and says, “Did I say something wrong?”

“I… It’s fine,” I sigh.

“What is it now?” he says with a light groan, and I laugh.

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head.

“Just say it,” he says irritated.

“Fine, I get it—you care about me as a friend and nothing more—I don’t need you to keep clarifying it for me, all right?”

“Did I say that? No. What I said is that you are dear to me and a dear friend. I did not say that is all you are,” he says baffled.

“I realize you know there is more to me than just being your friend. That is not what I meant. It seems you keep trying to make it clear to me you have no interest in me other than friendship and I do not need you to continue to say it. I’m not hitting on you.”

“Hitting on me?”

“It’s an expression from my realm that means trying to kiss you or have sex with you. Rest assured I’m not trying to be more to you than your friend. So you can stop keeping me at arm’s length because it’s making me feel like an idiot and I’m not even doing anything to warrant it.”

“That is not what I meant when I said that,” he says getting irritated back.

“Look, I get we have a brother-sister thing happening here, and I’m not trying anything, just to make it clear, since you seem to need clarification.”

“You see yourself as my sister?”

“You do.”

“No, I see you as a friend—my best friend…” he says and stops, his eyes filling with sadness, “but I need for you to go. This realm is not safe, so I want you to return to Kansas. Dorothy, I care for you and I want what is best for you, but I will miss you so much. Please, let us not fight.”

“I’m sorry,” I sigh. “I’ll miss you too… but I doubt I’ll make it back to Kansas,” I say.

“If you do not, you will stay with me, won’t you?” he asks me with a look so sincere it makes my heart hurt.

“For as long as you’d have me.” Tears well in my eyes as I gaze at his sad but beautiful face. If I have to stay, the three of them would be all I’d have. At the same time I wouldn’t want to impede on their lives or be a burden. “But I would need to figure out how to live here on my own. I know that you have your own dreams and I wouldn’t want to impede them or hold you back. If I’m hanging around all the time, it might be hard for you to find a girl to marry, and I couldn’t interfere with that.”

“You wouldn’t,” he says as he leads me around a corner onto a wide road.

Large statues stand on an island in the center of the main street. Subtle movements give the statues just enough life to make them eerie and magical. The first in the row is a princess in a ball gown who sways as though she is listening to music. A soldier stands at her side like he is on guard, his head scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes. Beside the soldier is a stately wereferret in a top hat and fancy suit who chats with a horse-headed man in a tuxedo. And at the end of the row of statues is a winged girl with a beak in a party dress dancing with a werewolf in a tailcoat. They twirl and sway on their shared emerald block and gaze at each other with dreamy eyes. As we stroll along admiring the trimmed sculptures, I think about the possibility of living a life here if I never make it back home.

“Maybe I can stay with General Boq—he might give me a job,” I remember. “When I stayed at his house, he said I’d have a place there, and I live on a farm at home. Uncle Henry made me work around the farm. Maybe I could work for him, with his cows or something. You might not need to put me up, at least not for too long,” I say.

Perhaps that would be best, if I go to the General and ask for his help. I am sure he’d give me a place to stay and some work. I could take care of myself that way.

“You would go to the General instead of staying with me?”

“Nick, I don’t want to be a burden to you. How can you find a wife with a girl living with you? I mean, it’s not unheard of but it wouldn’t last. You’ll get married and then what would become of me?”

“Then you would be married,” he says, and it confuses me.

“You think I’d get married before you?” I ask unsure.

“You’d be married to me,” he says and my heart jumps in surprise.

“What?” I ask surprised and confused. He keeps telling me we’re just friends, again and again.

“I told you I would marry you,” he smirks.

“Hilarious. I don’t need your pity to that level. Thanks anyway,” I scoff.

“I do not live far from General Boq’s. You will live with me and perhaps get a job with him,” he says with his winsome smile.

“Maybe for a little while. Until I get on my feet. I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“You would not get in my way—I want you to be with me so I can protect you and keep you safe.”

“Don’t worry, I still have these boots on. I swear my feet will fall off if I can’t take them off soon.”

“At least now you no longer have the predicament of the pants,” he says with a laugh.

“True. Not that it matters,” I say, and he laughs.

“It could, if you wanted it to,” he says, being very flirtatious, and it makes me wonder what he’s up to. I look at him with a squinted, scrutinizing eye and he guffaws.

“Why are you messing with me all of a sudden?” I ask him, squinting in suspicion.

“I just bought you a nice meal. Shouldn’t I get something in return?” he says, and it shocks me. My eyes widen as a gasp falls out of my mouth. He laughs at my reaction and I punch him in the arm which makes him laugh more. “Ow!”

“Don’t be an ass,” I scold.

“Ass as in a donkey or an ass as in butt?” he asks.

“Either,” I smirk, my brow raised.

“Oh, Dorothy, I enjoy being with you very much. You are not like most women from Oz.”

“How so?”

“You are fascinating. The things you tell me about from your realm, they boggle my mind to think of. And your reactions are amusing to me. You always assume I am, ‘messing with you’ as you so eloquently put it. And the way you speak amuses me. With your bathroom talk and unusual phrasing.”

“Well, I’m typical where I am from,” I shrug.

“Perhaps that is true, although I doubt it. You are funny, interesting. You are authentic and unique, and so beautiful. I know you do not believe me when I say it, but you are,” he says.

“Thanks.”

Ugh, I feel like he’s my parent trying to tell me why I’m special—it feels pathetic, but I know he’s trying to be nice, boost my confidence and all that.

“I mean what I say. I… I am very attracted to you, Dorothy. You know that,” he says to me, with a tone of sympathy. He must be able to tell I have a serious crush and is trying to make me feel better, because if he likes me, he is the king of mixed messages.

“I get the feeling you’re attracted to a lot of girls.”

“Perhaps, but I haven’t seen a single female other than you since I have met you who I think is more attractive than you.”

“We’ve been in a forest and all we’ve seen are vampires and werebeasts,” I remind him as I shake my head.

“Not here.”

“Why are you saying all this to me?”

“Because I will die if we fail. If I survive, I want you with me, but if we do not achieve our goal and I die, I like your plan to go to the General. Stay with Ardie if he survives. He is honorable. And never stop searching for a way back to Kansas.”

The thought of what he’s just said hurts. It sends deep sadness and dread right into the pit of my stomach that shoots straight up through my chest making my throat swell and my lower lip wobble.

“I won’t let you die,” I say with all the sincerity and determination in my heart.

“But I would die for you, Dorothy. All I want is for you to be safe,” he says, and I am so touched by his words. I think I believe him, and it makes me so sad.

“You better not die for me.”

“I will do my best, but I live a life where I can die at any moment. I had hope that it would change, but I am used to this.”

“Ugh, I hate that you are,” I say as he leads me through the streets with his hand placed on the small of my back. His touch sends feelings of comfort mixed with butterflies through me even though I’m worried about him, about all of us.

“But since I may die in this endeavor, I am telling you, I am very attracted to you,” he says and my heart jumps as a blush rushes to my cheeks.

“Well, you know I’m attracted to you,” I admit with an eye roll.

“I did not know.”

“Liar,” I scoff as we stroll along, and when I look out at the road before us, I notice the magic is thicker here in this part of the city—it rolls over the ground like green dry ice vapor.

A hand emerges from the vapor in light and fog beckoning us on with a curled finger, and we follow it down a street, around one corner, then another, and arrive at a massive hole in the ground that bursts with giant, hexagonal emerald crystals and dense green magic. Surrounded by a balustrade, the geode-like hole is about half the size of a city block. An arching crystal sign is raised above the balustrade. It has an intricate lattice in a Flower of Life pattern that surrounds calligraphic letters that read, The Enchanted Hollow. Beside the sign is a large copper and emerald plaque and we wade through the copious green fog and approach it.

Here lies the heart of the realm. From the Hollow, the magic of Oz emanates. For those who know the sacred words, speak them while gazing into its depths. To you, it will reveal great wonders.

“Do you know the sacred words?” I ask Nick

“No, I do not.”

I turn to the zombie beside me who is leaning on the balustrade eating a Brain Bar. He looks about forty but like he’s been a zombie for a long time—he’s not as well preserved as Ardie, that’s for sure. His skin has a waxy look to it; he has broken, black fingernails; and death marbles his hands in midnight-blue veins that slither up his arms.

“Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but do you know the sacred words?” I ask him. For some reason, my question tickles him, and he laughs as he chews. Once he swallows, he answers me with a smile.

“No one does.”

“Why is it there then?” Nick asks, his brows knitting in confusion.

“When it happened, that was what he said, or rather, one thing said.”

“When what happened?” I ask and an ‘are-you-kidding-me’ expression takes over his bluish, undead face.

“She is not from this realm,” Nick says, and his eyes widen in shock.

“That is unusual.”

“You’re telling me,” I snort.

“I am telling you. It is very unusual to meet an individual from another realm,” he says, and I almost explain but decide it’s pointless and keep quiet.

“Do you recall what the Guardian told you about the Wizard’s power bursting forth when the Witches came for him?” Nick reminds me.

“Right, yes, I do. So, this is the spot?”

“Yes, it is. At this exact spot, the ground cracked open and the magic burst forth. It came in light and fog, formed the face of the Wizard, and said, ‘I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Witness my power. This city you dare set foot in is sacred ground. No Vampires may enter. From this hollow, the force of my power emanates. Anyone who dares to violate this order will feel my wrath.’ Then, his magic engulfed both Vampire witches and ejected them from the city. Then he said, ‘For those who know the sacred words, speak them while gazing into the depths of the hollow. To you, I will reveal great wonders.’ The banister grew in the next day and that was on the plaque,” he says and shrugs.

“Is that true, or is that legend?” Nick asks.

“It’s true. I was here when it happened, and I remember every word.”

“Are you a founding resident of the city?” Nick asks.

“I watched it grow from the ground with my own eyes. At first, it was only those of us in Emerald who moved in, but many more peaceful people from all over Oz began to arrive. And the city keeps growing. The buildings get taller and taller every year that passes.”

“Wow.”

“We are very lucky to live here.”

“We don’t live here. He will soon, but I will return to my realm.”

“That is too bad. It is a peaceful city and a wonderful place to live, even for living humans. There is no other place like it in the realm. I must get back now. Good luck to you both. Enjoy your stay,” he says.

We wave goodbye as he walks through the front doors of a large storefront a few feet away with an awning that says, ‘Zombie Mart.’ And in the tinted green window hangs a large sign that says in bold, green, swirling letters, ‘Fill your belly with Brain Jelly!’

I turn back toward Nick as Toto hops up on my leg with his little tail wagging.

“Tired of walking already?” I say as I bend over and pick him up. When I stand upright, he peeks into the hollow straightaway. He must have wanted a better view.

“I wonder what the words are,” Nick says as he looks into the hollow with Toto.

I turn my attention to the giant emerald cluster lined hole with no bottom in sight oozing thick green glittery fog that smells like fresh baked sugar cookies and roses, and I say, “What are the sacred words, oh Great and Terrible Oz?”

A rush of that magical feeling rolls through me, then a soft, prismatic light shimmers from my chest and floats into the foggy hollow.

“What was that?” Nick asks.

“I don’t know,” I say, just as stunned as he is when words write themselves out before us.

“Whoa,” I breathe. “Do you see that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Let’s read it,” I say, itching to do it—I want to see great wonders.

“I do not know,” he says, hesitant.

“Whatever, I’m reading it,” I say, now determined. He grumbles and sighs.

“Fine. Ready?” he says, and I nod.

In unison, we read the words before us.

“Ozerikhalizo. Ozakygotuzo. Ozodequiazo. Ozuhmwapuzo.”

The letters disperse and nothing happens. A moment passes and words form in magic before us again, and we read them aloud as they appear.

“Ez… Yaz… Iz… Uz… Oz…”

The glittering green fog that bubbles up from the hollow twists into itself creating a vortex, a whirlpool of mist that sweeps Nick, Toto, and me off our feet. It carries us over the balustrade into its center while every person around watches slack jawed. As we spin around and down the funnel waist deep in luminescent fog, I worry I might end up back in Kansas with Nick considering I came here in a very similar way. I clutch Toto to me with one hand and reach out for Nick’s hand with the other. He grasps it tight and pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me and Toto as we spin down and down and down the funnel. The sky above has disappeared and all we see in its place is a tube of green sparkling smoke that arcs and curves.

As we spin down the funnel clutching each other, the thick mist engulfs us, and the scent of magic overwhelms me. Toto barks and Nick holds us tighter as the fog thins. We rise straight up and soon we are floating toward the mouth of the hollow. The mist that remains around us morphs into a large bubble with a pop. I look down at Toto and somehow his green bow has become a fancy gold collar. When I turn to Nick, he wears gold head to toe and has a gold crown upon his head. More now than ever before, he is devastatingly handsome. When our eyes meet, his eyes widen at the sight of me.

“Dorothy,” he breathes. “You look like a princess.”

I look down at myself to find a golden gown on my body, and when I raise my hand to my head, I feel strands of my hair pulled back in an elaborate hairdo pinned with jewels.

“So do you,” I say and he holds back a smile. “But not a princess. A prince, or something regal. Whatever, you know what I mean—we’re dressed like twinsies and you’re wearing a freaking crown,” I say with an eye roll, and he chuckles at me.

A roar of cheers turns our attentions away from each other as we emerge from the mouth of the hollow. When we look out at the surrounding city, there is a crowd of people in the streets and they’re all cheering and waving at us. We wave back, not sure what to make of it.

The city looks different too. So different it’s jarring. It’s like our realms have amalgamated somehow. Everyone below cheers and waves as we float over their heads. They wear far more contemporary clothing, and the storefronts around us have a far more modern aesthetic. One zombie in the crowd even has a video call going with another zombie on a tablet with emerald accents. Everyone still wears the glasses, but they look more like wraparounds or VR goggles.

Our bubble rises and the cheers of the crowd fade the higher we go. From up here, just how much the city has changed becomes even more clear. The emerald buildings are taller, far taller than before, and floating in the sky about them are magic billboards with ads that move like cinemagraphs.

On a floating billboard we pass is a moving image for ruby accented smartphones and tablets with 3D projection screens. In giant print beside the image is a slogan that says Walk while you talk. Talkie-Walk.

Down the road, ahead of our bubble, a billboard turns a corner with an ad for futuristic flying sports cars that reads: New Jinjurly Zippiwizzers. Now with eight hundred and eighty-eight Ozwatts of power. The billboard makes the turn and I notice on the other side is an ad for a misty green microwave called an OzGen Sizzle Zizzle.

A few feet ahead of that billboard is another billboard with an ad for a 3D wall size smart TV on a thin sheet of emerald crystal that reads Emerald Vision Watchy Wall by Jurbil Wizardry. Now with OzConnect.

“What is this?” Nick says, looking around in awe.

“An alternate universe?”

“What?”

“This version of your world looks like what would happen if technology merged with magic. It’s like your realm and my realm are one realm.”

Our bubble rises higher and higher, coiling around the same shifter building we circled when we first arrived. It’s the tallest building in the city, and it’s far taller than it was before. The higher we go, the farther away we can see, and it seems the rampart that surrounds the city, although still there, is no longer its border. Far beyond its walls, the city has grown, expanded for miles upon miles with beautiful, affluent, suburban and farm communities on the outskirts. The city looks far more industrial in parts than before, but it’s all still beautiful. Zippywizzers fly about while Oz bubbles float over the city carrying people.

We rise higher and higher, up past the clouds, to find the aviary gleaming light and magical green mist, and the higher we float, the more nervous I get.

“Where are we going?” I say as our bubble floats through cloud after cloud. Soon enough, the sky is below us and what’s above is the blazing sun and dark space filled with stars. We’re too close to the hot white roiling star and dread overtakes me.

“I’d rather not fly into the sun, if you don’t mind,” I say aloud to the bubble and Nick grips me tighter to him.

The bubble turns just in time and veers away from the bright burning star into the darkness of space. Nebulas and constellations I’ve never seen glitter and glow throughout the dark sky. Below us is a planet steeped in a rainbow of colors, bold and bright, like a Fauvist masterpiece—if Matisse or Derain painted a planet surrounded by stars, it would look something like this. Pastel clouds caress oceans in every shade of blue. Each country’s land a different vibrant color that marks their borders to create the most vivid planet I could have ever imagined. The geography is not the same as Earth, or it’s as if the land mass never split apart into the seven continents of the civilized realm.

Through nebulous clouds of green and blue, we float farther away from the planet until we come to a dead stop. Behind us is pure darkness. Before us is a glittering rainbow universe, and the closest planet in sight is the rainbow world that contains Oz. Colorful clouds of interstellar dust and rich-hued stars frame the world to create an enchanting vision—it’s a magical work of art and the most exquisite sight I have ever seen.

“Wow,” I breathe.

Nick and I turn our heads toward each other, and when our eyes meet, his gaze splits me open. It’s as bare as I feel. From the darkest strokes to the lightest wisps of color, every aspect of who he is makes a person I find to be as beautiful as the scene before us. I’m head over heels and I hate he doesn’t feel the same way, but I understand and I’m grateful for his friendship. My eyes are glassy, brimming with unshed tears, but I smile. As he examines my face, probably to remember me by, I am certain I could never forget his, and I never will.

He leans in and my heart jumps, hoping he might kiss me, hoping he’s feeling even a smidgeon of what I am, and right as our lips are about to touch, a glaring light shines from the darkness at our backs. As we turn our heads, we find white light has overtaken everything behind us and draws us toward it. The pull is so strong I fear our magic bubble will pop, and the light is so bright we both have to look away. As we do, we see the world we came from and the darkly vibrant space around it shrink until we are outside it altogether.

Surrounded by white, looking at a universe contained inside a bubble much like the one we are in, we stare in wonder as it spins on its axis. The bubble moves forward in an arcing curve when three more universe bubbles come into view. Each one moves parallel to another forming a helix in its perpetual motion. Our bubble floats through the endless brilliancy toward the dark spiraling spheres, and the closer we get the slower they spin.

On one end is a sphere of light and dark whose outer walls are a pure waving luster, colorless and glistening. Inside the fluttering clear gloss are accents of shimmering black against a vibrant, glittering center, a nucleus that bursts like a silver sparkler. Next is the prismatic universe we came from that glimmers with variegated mists, vivid stars, and a world in a rainbow of colors. Beside it is one that looks far more familiar, with constellations I recognize. It’s not as arresting as the one that contains Oz, there is no glittering mist, but the stars still shine and there are still glimmers of color and light amidst the dark, still black that surrounds the faint flickers.

Made of bubbling reds, from the fieriest scarlet to a red as black as blood, the fourth sphere swirls in dark crimson shimmers and a sparkling wine so dark they verge on black. Amidst the shimmery swirls, specks of light from the palest pink to the most vivid neon red scintillate around gleaming orbs that burn and bubble and spark through their cracked fissures.

Each sphere spins at a different speed from the one beside it, but they all seem to move forward together on the same track at the same speed, but it looks as though they have no destination, no purpose other than hurtling through the endless whiteness, spiraling on in a dizzying corkscrew to nowhere.

“Are those the realms?”

“I think so,” says Nick.

“Only four with all this brilliance around them?” I ask when our bubble turns and shoots into the white away from the realms we come from, and after an amount of time I can’t discern, we see a bird’s-eye view of a kaleidoscope of dots that create a moving pattern that resembles the Flower of Life. The magic of Oz integrates this symbol into so many of its designs, and now I see why.

“What is it?” Nick asks.

“Everything. Nothing. All of it.”

“Then what is this light?”

“The encasement, the shell. Like an egg. It’s the white. That is the yoke.”

“How do you know this?”

“I don’t. I’m just talking out of my ass.”

“What?” he says and huffs a laugh of shock.

“I’m just bullshitting. You know, guessing,” I say and his smile beams. He looks even more beautiful in his white and gold princely attire against the pure white energy that surrounds us.

“Oh, Dorothy, I adore you.”

“I think you’re pretty great too, Nick,” I say, and his bright smile warms as he hugs me to him.

This will forever be the most extraordinary moment of my existence. There’s only one thing I can think of that would make it better. So, I muster the courage to lift my head from his chest and look up at his chiseled face.

Our eyes lock, and we gaze at each other through a sea of unspoken emotions. Waves of words I wish I could say but won’t crash into me—I’m positive I love him. It’s as though my heart decided for the rest of me and doesn’t seem to care he sees me as a buddy. But I love him in a way I’ve loved no one. The feeling is so much more intense than anything I expected.

When he breaks our gaze and his eyes fall to my mouth, I dare to lean toward him. With my heart racing in my chest I wait for him to respond, to meet me halfway, and thank goodness he does, but then our eyes meet and sadness saturates his mien—it looks a lot like pity. Before I can spiral into defeat, Toto barks, and we turn our heads right as we enter the magical realm and speed through a colorful, glittering dark space to the world that holds the Lands of Oz.

The speed of our bubble increases as we hurtle toward the ground racing through layers of clouds and clear blue sky. In a dive straight into the water, we fly head first into the surface of the world. I am terrified of what happens next, but I can’t imagine the magic of Oz would bring us through all this just to send us to our deaths, so I relax about it and let myself enjoy the ride.

We pull up right before we hit the water and an exhilarated squeal flies out of me. Nick laughs at my giddiness as we speed toward land. We pass an island or two so fast I can’t make anything out, and when we reach the mainland, we sail over it so swiftly it’s nothing but a blur of streaking colors.

Everything goes dark, as if we’ve gone underground, and soon the glittering green fog engulfs us again. I look to Nick and he is back in his clothing from before, and when I look down at myself, so am I. We careen around the shaft of a magic funnel until we’re shot out into the night, up through the mouth of the Enchanted Hollow. Screams and shouts ring out as we emerge and float away.

Magic illuminates the city that glows against the dark night sky. The streets are just as packed as they were during the day, but now all the taverns, restaurants, and nightclubs are open and packed with people.

We float through the streets toward the palace and circle it, passing the front door by. Where is this bubble taking us?

Hidden in an enclave below the roof of a charming turret is a latticed garden dripping in beautiful flowers. Blooms of vibrant pinks, reds, purples, blues, and their loose petals cover the garden floor. But in the center with not one petal on its surface, is a large, emerald, circular tile with the Flower of Life symbol carved into it. As I look around at this flower covered secret garden, I notice Oz wove the crystal lattice in the same Flower of Life pattern.

I put Toto down and take a step toward the large emerald circle. It opens up in a kaleidoscope of crystal layers, and when it closes, a beautiful candlelight dinner covers its surface. Toto trots right over and with his little mouth, pulls his emerald bowl filled with chunks of red meat over to a thick pile of petals, gets comfy, and starts eating. Even Nick can’t help but smile at how adorable he is.

“Shall we eat the meal Oz has prepared for us?” Nick suggests.

“We shall,” I say and sit before a place setting on a bed of flower petals, and Nick sits opposite me.

“So Oz, the Wizard, showed us all that?”

“They say the magic is his.”

“What do you think?”

“I think the magic comes from the land. Or that is what my mother taught me. I do not know for certain. Since I have met you, I have seen things that make me doubt it.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You called magic out of the sky.”

“But Ardie said the sky is a part of the land.”

“But your magic does not look the same as the other witches. I have seen them all. Gayelette’s magic is white as is the land she is from. North Munchkin is all white. Clear crystals grow from the snow covered ground. The trees are white and so are their leaves. Only white flowers grow there. Those lands are hers and her magic is as white as the North.

“Then there is Glinda, the Slayer Witch of the South. She is from Quadling and rules over those lands. Her magic is red because in Quadling, everything is red. Vibrant red rubies grow from the red ground. The trees are redwood with red leaves and only red flowers are native to that country. I heard Glinda grows other flowers in her garden, but Quadling flowers are always one shade of red or another. The magic of Emerald is green, as you have seen, and so on and so forth. But your magic is all the colors. Like a rainbow. And it comes from the sky. That is not usual.

“The witch whose boots you wear had silver and blue magic because she lived in Munchkin and that metal is abundant there and all the flowers native to Munchkin are blue, although many Munchkins have brought in other flowers from throughout the realm over the years. Beneath the surface of the soil are blue crystals. If you dig, you can find them. I did it as a kid. I’d dig them up and trade them with Munchkins for things like cakes and buns. Munchkins like color, but they like blue the best still, and a pretty blue gem almost always catches their fancy.

“The Vampire Witch of the West, who we must kill, she lives in Winkie Land and gold is abundant there. Winkie Land is famous for its golden crystals and golden sands, and the Vampire Witch who lives there has gold magic. Her hair is gold, just like Glinda’s hair is red, and Gayelette’s hair is white.”

“Does that mean the Wizard’s hair is green?” I chime in with a sassy smile and he smirks at me.

“It is likely.”

“What about the other lands? That song you sang said the Lands of Oz are five in all, right?”

“Gillikin, the Zombie Witch Mombi’s territory. I have never seen her, but I think it is safe to assume that her magic is as purple as Gillikin.”

“Maybe because I’m not from here, I get to use all the colors,” I say, and shrug and he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Perhaps,” he says and focuses on eating, and I do the same.

I think I need a minute to collect my head. It’s been such an insane day. Who would have thought that existence is endless, forever moving in a kaleidoscope of life? And I got to see it all. It’s a gift I will always be grateful for from the bottom of my soul. I thank the magic, I thank the realms, I thank the powers that contain us all and the energies that created me for showing me such a sight and to find love. I may not be his love, but he will always be mine. Even though I wished to meet him many times, I never believed I would. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t reciprocate my feelings.

I don’t want to live a gray, unexceptional life ever again, and seeing what I’ve seen, doing what I’ve done these past weeks, those experiences alone make me exceptional, so why can’t the life I lead reflect that? I don’t have to accept an average life, so I won’t. Why should I? Because it’s easy? That doesn’t seem like a good reason.

“What are your thoughts?”

“I was just thinking about everything. It blows my mind, you know?”

A light laugh escapes him before he says, “Yes, I do.”

“And coming here, meeting you, experiencing magic and seeing what we saw, this entire event means there no way I’m average anymore. I feel special for the first time in my life. It’s kind of wonderful.”

We finish our food and he stands first, then offers me his hand and helps me up to my feet.

“How do we get off this thing?” I say and I hear Toto bark but I can’t see him. “Toto? Where did you go?”

I follow his barks and find a small staircase behind the curve of the turret. Flower petals cover its steps, and Toto is at the bottom standing before a large emerald door with a Flower of Life emblem carved into its center. Nick is right at my back as we descend the stairs, and I am so captivated by the beauty and scent of these gorgeous flowers.

“These flowers smell amazing.”

“They are Ozaleas. They were my mother’s favorite flower. We always had them in our home growing up,” he says with a soft smile as we approach the door. It slides open for us and we walk into the foyer between both our rooms.

“They’re my favorite flower now too,” I say and smile back at him. Toto hurries for the door to our suite and it slides open for him. He bolts inside and the door slides closed after him.

“Today was astounding, and I am glad I got to see it with you. You make my life wonderful, Dorothy. There is no one more special to me than you in all the realms,” he says with eyes so earnest my breath catches.

“Me too, but you,” I blurt as I stare at him googly eyed and enamored. I expect another one of his smiles of pity but his eyes darken and fall to my lips instead, so I dig deep and muster the courage to say, “Do you want to come in?”

“More than anything,” he says as his eyes bore into mine.

I just go for it—I throw my arms around him and kiss him like I’ve kissed no one before. Thank goodness he kisses me back. His arms wrap around me, and it’s passionate and hot and I want him like I’ve wanted no one before.

As I break our kiss to catch my breath, he presses his forehead to mine and says, “Dorothy, I don’t think we should take this too far.”

My heart drops, but I tell myself not to jump to conclusions. What he just said was very vague.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re friends, and I want to be close to you, but it can’t be more so I… I can’t have sex with you.”

“I don’t remember offering,” I scoff, so taken aback, and step away from him.

“You did not.”

“Yeah, all right,” I say and sigh, not knowing what else to say. I’m mortified right now. I just want to go hide, bury my head in a pillow, hide under my covers, and disappear. “Um… Sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say as I reach back and touch the doorstone to my suite. When the door slides open, I turn to hurry inside, away from him, but he takes my hand in his and pulls me toward him, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me tight.

“Do not run away. Just because we can’t have sex doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” I snort.

“Dorothy, I want to be close to you, but I do not want you hurting over me. And you cannot stay here. I need you to be safe. In your realm, you can be safe. If we take it too far, I will miss you too much.”

“I already miss you too much.”

As he leans in, I know I should step back, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do it. With lips so soft, he kisses me and my heart melts in my chest. Any pride I may have had has melted away with my heart. And when our lips detangle after a long, perfervid kiss, we stumble into my suite.

19

The Calm Before the Storm

My lips have never been so sore. For the past two days, Nick and I have holed up in my suite. When we come up for air, we stroll around the palace or have lunch in the secret garden between our rooms, and throughout the day we’ve been making a list of everything we need for our journey. We write it on a thick sheet of emerald crystal that Jellia gave us, and soon after we place an item on our list, it appears in our suite. Most of the time though, I’m falling harder every moment we spend together despite our restraint.

Today, we leave. We’re packed and ready. Now, all there is to do is go.

We haven’t seen Ardie or Werelion much since we arrived, but that’s because Ardie and Werelion both met girls and they’re spending their time with them. It’s been fine by me though because I got to spend my time alone with Nick. We are sharing a tent—it’s less to carry—and although I may have been shy about it before, Ardie already knows about us, so why pretend?

Ardie has been coming early in the morning to take Toto out around the city with him, and I am only aware of this because yesterday when I woke up, Oz showed me what happened when he came. Although I wasn’t sure how to feel about the Wizard using his magic to record the goings on in my room, I am glad I knew where Toto was. When Ardie came in, he saw Nick asleep beside me in bed, shook his head in disapproval, picked Toto up, and left. It’s fair to assume he thinks we’re sleeping together. We’re not. Well, we’re sleeping together but not sleeping together. I’m expecting a lecture.

I’m sure Ardie thinks I’m being stupid, that Nick is using me, but I don’t think that’s true.

“Where is your coat?” Nick asks me.

“Um… I don’t know. Do I have a coat?”

“Don’t you?”

“Was it on the list?”

“Did you pack a heavy coat or not?”

“Not.”

“The land we are traveling through gets cold, it rains, snows, storms. Ardie and the Werelion should make sure they have them as well,” he says. “I must return to my suite soon to sharpen my axes. The sharpening block should be there by now. I will request your coat while I’m there.”

He’s so hot taking control of everything.

“You need to stop looking at me like that or we will get nothing of importance done today,” he says as he comes over, kisses me once, and continues to dress.

“Sorry, you’re sexy right now.”

“You find preparedness sexy?”

“On you, I guess it is.”

“Dorothy, I have enjoyed our time together here, and I’d like it to continue on our mission. There will be many cold nights, but I do not want you to get attached in a way that makes you want to stay. It has to end between us. You understand that, right?” he says, so condescending and superior.

“Look, I get you’re not in love with me. If I gave you a wrong impression, I apologize,” I say as my arms cross. Looks like I’m mad—I do that when I’m mad.

“Do not be cross with me.”

“That came off as obnoxious and it ticked me off. I get what this is. It’s clear we have no future as a couple, so you can stop with your ‘I’m so heartless’ routine. Got it?”

“Gotten.”

That felt like a kick in the chest. At least I can admit to myself it hurts to hear him say it, that I had hoped he’d ask me to stay, tell me he loved me, but he won’t.

“Are you sure you are unhurt by our arrangement?” he asks, his forehead scrunching as if he’s concerned and it only pisses me off more.

“Are you trying to upset me?” I say, growing enraged, and he laughs.

“No.”

“If you don’t want to continue to make out with me, get another tent. What’s your problem?” I say, exasperated.

“There is no problem. As long as you understand this cannot go any further, that we aren’t more than the best of friends, I would like to continue,” he says, and it hurts, but he’s always made himself clear.

“Part of me wants to tell you to cram it up your bunghole,” I say, and he guffaws, “but soon I’ll never see you again. I’ll miss you and I… I ‘like’ you,” I admit.

“I like you too,” he says, and we gaze into each other’s green glass covered eyes.

When he kisses me, my heart feels like it’s melting into sadness and love in my chest—I’m so pathetic I don’t care how pathetic I am as long as I get to be with him like this, in his arms, close to him. ‘Like’ him is all he’ll ever hear of it though. The depth of my feelings is something he need not know because if he did, he wouldn’t continue. What little we have would end and he’d only be my friend with no benefits.

This must be what it’s like for people who get into one of these relationships. One person feels more, wants more, and the other is just doing it for the pleasure, and the comfort, and because the person is a close friend, and it’s nice to be closer. When a guy and a girl are close, I guess this can happen, and I’d guess it ruins the relationship more than not. If I were staying, I might not do this. To make things weird for a relationship that is more long term doesn’t seem smart.

If I end up not being able to return to Kansas, I’ll go to General Boq, get a job, and this arrangement between us will end. For the sake of our friendship, I’ll do my best not to let my feelings get in the way. On occasion, we might see each other. By then, I hope I’ll have moved on, maybe found another boyfriend or something, so things won’t be too weird. If I go back to Kansas though, none of it will matter because our relationship will be over, forever. No matter what, I’ll miss him, so I can treat him like he’s mine, even if it’s just for a short while, even if it’s not mutual. Right now, I can love him and indulge in him.

There’s a knock at the bedroom door and it’s Jellia. When I wave, the door slides open and she steps into the room.

“Good morning,” she says with a sweet smile on her green painted lips. “I have come to get you ready. If you need more time—”

“Not to worry, I was just leaving,” Nick says. “I shall meet you here at noon.”

“Later,” I say, and he chuckles as he leaves the room.

When I get up and out of bed, Jellia brings me into the bathroom for another round of Oz style grooming. Through each of the stations from the beginning, I’m doused and scrubbed and slathered, and when I’m caked in shimmery emerald green mud and placed on the emerald slab again, the magical mist of Oz engulfs me.

Glittery green magic spins around me in a whirlwind as I float in the center of its funnel and watch the super-fast motion of the vortex draw a rainbow of light from inside me. At first, I’m not sure what’s happening, then panic sets in—I think he’s taking what little power I have right before I embark on this journey.

When I try to move my body but can’t, my breath quickens. All I can do is watch as the rainbow light emanating from me grows, and my mind spins at hyper speed trying to come up with a way out of this, a way to fight back. What has worked before is asking something outside of myself for help, so I pray to whatever entities created the multiverse and whatever might be beyond the light that encapsulates everything, and I beg them to let me keep this magic inside me for my journey. I’m not so sure how I’ll fair against a Vampire who has the magic of a powerful witch otherwise.

The rainbow light leeching from my body rushes back into me and the green vortex comes with it. A potent polychrome fills the room, and it’s the only thing I can see. The vigorous buzz suffuses me, shaking me right out of my body.

All I am is color—an endless colorific spectra, a sparkling gem with facets of every hue. I am the fiercest red and the fieriest orange. I am the yellow that burns as hot as the sun. I am a bright vivid green as rich and full of wonder as the emerald magic of Oz. My blue is electric, my indigo is as dark as this monstrous land, and my violet is an impenetrable force connecting me to powers far outside myself. The monochrome magic of Oz may make him great and terrible, but I possess the striking, dynamic force of a riot of color.

Before, I thought the colors I was desperate for were colors I didn’t possess, but I was wrong. I’ve always been a rainbow. I was just veiled by somber gray clouds. My journey here has put those clouds behind me, and I know who I am now. Everything I need to win I carry within me.

In an arching stream of brilliant color, every particle of light in the room downloads into me, and the power that charges me is a harmonic dichotomy of everything. Cloudbursts of vermillion strength surge inside me as my ruby wrath attacks, filling the room in mist and sparks that infiltrate the walls, hungry to teach Oz a lesson for trying to steal my power.

My ruby red battles his emerald green, and with a roar, I break free from his hold on my body as I siphon his power in an arching vortex of bright ruby sparks that funnel straight into my sternum. Jellia screams as I leap to my feet, naked and covered in mud atop the emerald slab that held me captive moments before. I jump off the slab and land on my feet as the light in the room goes out. Screams outside stop me—if I take all his power, people could drop from popping bubbles in the sky, or get stuck in the walls—and regret pangs in my chest. Pale blue shimmering mist submerges my raging sparks and the fizzy lilac water vapor left behind disperses.

“What the ever-loving f—”

The lights come back on and an old man appears before me in mist. This old man doesn’t look like the same old man I met when I talked to the Wizard. Jellia drops to her knees in reverence, so it must be him, but after that stunt, he can kiss mine if he thinks I’m bowing to him too.

“Please, I meant no harm,” the misty green figment of Oz says, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

“Yeah right,” I say and chortle.

“My aim was to reveal the potential within you. To fulfill your mission, you must attain the full strength of your power.”

“Right, sure. So I’m guessing it’s a no to my request, since you never answered.”

“The five of you are a perfect combination, a team like no other in the realm. Between you, you have everything needed to defeat her. Much lies within you, Dorothy, but each of your companions have at least one very important quality you still have yet to realize.”

“Why can’t you do it yourself? Why must I murder her for you?”

“The strength of my power must remain here to run this city and keep the land protected. I could gather my power from throughout the lands but even if I did, you are still the only witch who holds the power needed to destroy her once and for all. Ezdalina is a plague. The five of you are my cure.”

“Ezdalina is the Vampire Witch I’m assuming. Thanks for giving her a name. That helps me out with the murdering her thing a lot. The more personal information you could give me about her the better. Does she have any favorite stuffed animals I should know about? Perhaps the story of her first heartbreak might help.”

“Ezdalina is no longer. An undead evil force more foreign and far darker than this realm has ever seen has stolen her body and her name, and it is you who will stop her.”

“How do I know you’re not sending me into a trap?”

“You saw the future. The gates of this city were open.”

“That was the future? It wasn’t an alternate universe?”

“If you are to reach the mountains before nightfall, you must go soon. Now that you have found your strength, you are ready. The realm is counting on you. I bid you good fortune on your journey,” he says and disappears.

Jellia rises, and I stand stunned, naked, and covered in green mud. What just happened?

“What happened?” Jellia asks me and I laugh.

“Funny, I was just wondering the same thing.”

“Oz said he was sorry. What was he sorry for?”

“For trying to steal my power.”

“Oh dear!”

“Don’t worry, I stole his right back.”

“If even Oz himself will admit he would need to gather his power from all the lands to still not do what you can do, you must be a very powerful witch,” she says in awe and perhaps excited for me.

“Must be.”

What do I say to that? There is no denying I have power inside me that comes out in the form of rainbow light. If that means I’m a sorceress, I am a sorceress. Would I be without these boots? Doubtful. I have always had those colors inside me though. Grief and loneliness shrouded them for years, and I craved them every second of every day. My mistake was believing I’d find them outside myself. They were always there, waiting for me to shine them again. And maybe, thanks to the boots and being in the magical realm, those colors come out in variegated arcs of vibrant light and pure force.

Jellia leads me to the plunge pool and cleans the mud off me before bringing me through the whole rigamarole again. This time she doesn’t put makeup on me though, and she does my hair into two pigtail braids saying they will keep my hair neat on the journey. The problem is that I look like a little kid. I don’t want to hurt her feelings though, so I’ll take them out after we leave.

We go back to the bedroom to dress and she pulls out a pair of pants that button up the sides of the legs and hands them to me.

“I made them for you. These too,” she says and takes out several matching pairs of bras and panties. “Choose what you will wear today, and I will add the remaining garments to your luggage.”

“Thank you, Jellia. These are beautiful. You have a real talent.”

“I like the style very much, and so does my husband,” she says and giggles.

I put on a fitted green Henley and the button up forest green pants she’s made. They work well with my boots, and the fit is impressive.

We go out into the living room area as the doorstone chimes.

“Come in,” I say.

The door slides open and Ardie walks in.

“Hi,” I say as he comes in and kisses my cheek hello.

“Are you ready for our journey?”

“I’m packed if that’s what you mean. Am I ready to murder someone though? I doubt it.”

“She is evil, Dorothy. It is what’s best for the lands of Oz.”

“Pardon me,” Jellia says and goes.

“What about you? Are you ready? Did you say goodbye to your new girlfriend?” I tease.

“I did,” he says and smirks at me.

“You’ve been spending every second of your time with her,” I say with a grin I can’t help.

His brows shoot up and he says, “And you have been spending every second of your time with the heartless Axeman.”

“I have.”

“Has he grown a heart?”

“No, but I know what it is, Ardie. He’s made himself clear. We’re friends and…” I stop and sigh.

“I need no explanation,” he says throwing up his hands.

“Good.”

“But you love him,” he says as if he knows, and he’s right but…

“I’m leaving anyhow. I suppose it’s that I am taking what I can get.”

“He is using you, Dorothy.”

“What do I care? I’ll be in Kansas soon enough. What does it matter if he is?”

“Don’t you have any sense of pride?”

“Not with him. It’s not like I’m advertising my feelings either. So, I’m in love with him. So what? It makes no difference. I’m leaving. If I focus on my pride, I will regret it. I’d rather take full advantage of the time I have with him, so perhaps I am using him too. I know he doesn’t feel the same. He’s made himself clear. I don’t seem to care.”

It’s true. I know he doesn’t feel the same and I’m still hooking up with him. If anyone is taking advantage of anyone, it’s me taking advantage of the fact that chance forced Nick and I together in this strange situation. So who is using who?

“It is your choice to make,” he shrugs.

“It is, but so you know, he has not given me the impression he loves me, nor has he lied to me. In fact, he is a complete gentleman. He has asked me if I can handle it and I said yes. I can handle it. He doesn’t know how I feel, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“It is obvious. The entire palace is talking about you two going around kissing. They think you are newlyweds!”

“Ha! Well, we’re far from it. He’ll return a bachelor, on the market for all the single young women to pursue, and I’ll return to Kansas where I belong.”

“Are you sad to go?”

“I am. I’ll miss you so much, but I can’t live here. There is no place for me here and I wouldn’t want to be a burden to any of you,” I sigh.

The doorstone chimes before it opens to reveal Nick and the Werelion together. When they enter, Nick stops short upon seeing me and chuckles. Ugh. It’s the braids. I know it is.

“I know, I look stupid,” I say blushing and he stifles a laugh.

“You look lovely,” he lies.

“I look like a seven-year-old.”

“Your body doesn’t,” he smirks.

“She said my hair would stay neat like this. I’m taking it out when we leave. I don’t want to hurt her feelings,” I humph.

“Did you pack extra undergarments, little one?”

“Yes and don’t call me that.”

“Did you notice the power surge?” Werelion asks, his cat eyes wide. “I heard screaming.”

“It was only for a quick moment. I almost didn’t even notice,” Ardie says.

“That was me.”

“What?” Nick asks, a stern expression hardening his features.

“Yup. I did that. Sucked his power right out of the walls.”

“Why?” Ardie gasps.

“Because he tried to steal mine first,” I say and seethe at the memory.

“Explain,” Nick says, already fuming.

I tell them the entire story, everything he said, and while Nick’s jaw clenches and Werelion trembles with worry, Ardie looks puzzled.

“So, it was a good thing because now you have realized your full potential and everything else you need, the three of us possess,” he says like everything is hunky-dory.

“Right,” I say and let out a light laugh. Not for a single second do I buy that line.

“M-m-maybe w-we sh-shouldn’t g-go,” Werelion stutters, hugging the tip of his tail to his chest.

“Why not?” Ardie asks, astonished.

“It could be a trap,” Werelion says, growing even more alarmed as he speaks the words aloud.

“It is not a trap. The Wizard has asked this of us because he requires a price and we have the strength to do it. Us, together, we can save this land from a plague! It is an honor the wizard chose us to do a wonderful thing for the entire land. We must go to Winkie Land, search for the Vampire Witch, and destroy her,” Ardie says, very sure of himself.

“Suppose we fail,” Werelion squeaks out.

“Then I shall always be a zombie.”

“And I shall always be a coward.”

“And I shall always be a heartless killer of vampires either way,” says Nick, “but Dorothy would have to stay here and that is not an option. We must prevail, trap or not.”

“Why will you always be heartless either way?” Ardie asks. “I thought that was the point of you coming to the City of Emeralds.”

“Have you noticed they have no military presence? No protection for the city at all?”

“There is a treaty—” Ardie starts but Nick interrupts.

“With the Vampire Witch who we are about to assassinate. When she’s gone, the city is fair game,” Nick says and scoffs.

“The Wizard will stop them,” Ardie says.

“We’ll see about that.”

“We will.”

“If he’s so powerful wouldn’t he have done something about them. He has done nothing,” Nick points out.

“He protected the City of Emeralds,” Ardie says. “You heard what he said to Dorothy—”

“And what about the rest of this country? This realm? The Witch of the North is out slaying them while the Witch of the South is protecting Quadling as best she can. But the Wizard does not protect all of Emerald. He only protects the city, and that is because of a treaty—a deal he made with the evilest creatures in these lands. The Wizard made deals with the Vampire Witches of the East and West to protect only the city he lives in. Why?” Nick challenges.

“I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“And what was this deal? What did they exchange? Does anyone even know?”

“I do not,” the Werelion says.

“You turned yourself into a zombie and you turned yourself into a werebeast to protect yourselves. What has Oz done for anyone else other than the people in his immediate surroundings? How powerful could he be?” Nick says, and it makes me wonder. He’s right. You don’t make deals with terrorists. He did. What’s up with that? If the Wizard makes deals with Vampire Witches and I killed one of them, perhaps I am being sent to slaughter for what I did.

“He has the power to show you the future, to carry you through the cosmos—” Ardie starts, but Nick cuts him off.

“That could have been an illusion,” Nick says, but Ardie has a point if it wasn’t.

“Oz told me he could gather all his power throughout the land and he still wouldn’t have as much power as these boots. What does that tell you?” I remind him and his lips press together in consternation. There’s not much to say to that.

“As much power as the boots, or as you?” Werelion asks, his furry nose scrunched in confusion.

“Same thing,” I say.

“That is not so. You are not your boots,” Ardie says.

“Dorothy had no magic when she came here,” Nick says, baffled. “She is from the Civilized Realm where true magic does not exist. The boots have the magic of a Vampire Witch that has latched onto her and controls her at its will. The boots are drawing in magic from the ground, the walls, the sky, Oz himself, and he is using it to get what he wants. But our Dorothy is the person is in those boots. If he can take them off, send her to Kansas where she’ll be safe, and this is the only way, we have to try. Trap or not.”

“If he has a deal with her, and I killed the other Vampire Witch, this could be a setup,” I say. We need to consider this—it may not be worth it. I’m only one person and this is a lot to sacrifice for my sake alone.

“Yes, but we still must try,” Nick says, and I sigh. I need this far more than they do. How can I ask this of them?

“Do we though?” I say.

“Yes, we do,” Nick insists, his jaw ticking in frustration.

“If we could get the boots off another way, Dorothy could stay and be safe,” Werelion suggests.

“Oz says he will take them off when the task is complete. No one would cross him and remove them now. You do not question Oz. Not for any reason. Everyone knows that,” Ardie says.

“That’s not the way to think,” I blurt. I wanted to stay out of this one, but my mouth moves before my head gets a say these days.

“What?” Ardie says surprised by my words.

“If you can’t question your authorities, you’ve got an autocracy on your hands.”

“Oz is the most powerful wizard in the realm and we consider it disrespectful to question him.”

“In my realm there is a saying—Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Believe me, you do not want to live in an autocracy.”

“I do not know this word—autocracy,” Nick says.

“It’s a system of government where one person who no one questions holds absolute power.”

“That is Oz,” Nick says.

“That needs to change.”

“There is no law against questioning the Wizard, but no one dares disrespect him for fear of his wrath,” the Werelion explains.

“Wow, that sucks,” I say, disgusted.

“Sucks?” Ardie asks confused.

“It means sucks… you know,” Nick says and points to the part in question. Ardie’s eyes widen in shock.

“It does?”

“It does,” I say and chuckle.

“By bread and salt, Dorothy! In this realm, we consider that crass,” Ardie scolds and I giggle at his prudish indignation.

“It’s a typical expression in my realm.”

“Oh my! Well, that is shocking to hear.”

“Let’s focus. How do we get to the Land of the Winkles?”

“Winkies,” Nick corrects with a laugh.

“Winkies,” I repeat with a snort. “And I’m the crass one. You got a whole country named after them. What for? Is it shaped like one on the map or something?”

“What?” Ardie says, confused, as Nick groans and I titter at my own dumb joke. Werelion giggles along with me but Ardie still looks stumped.

“We do not have a map. I looked for one, asked everyone. There are no maps. The only map in this city is a map of this city. Useless. So no map,” Ardie shrugs.

“Do any of you guys know where we’re going?”

“Yes,” Ardie says. “Sort of.”

“Ha! That’s great,” I say with a snort of sarcastic amusement.

The doorstone chimes and the door slides open to reveal Jellia and the Guardian of the Gate.

“Time for you to leave this city. Gather your things and come along,” the Guardian says.

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” I say with a narrow-eyed smirk.

“Abominable,” Ardie huffs.

“Pick it up and get out. Hop to it,” says the Guardian, waving us on with an impatient grunt.

“Shut your trap, twinkles. We’ll go when we’re good and ready,” I say and turn to Ardie. “Let gather our things. No need to rush.”

“Yes, let us,” Ardie says, and we each grab our backpacks and hoist them onto our backs.

The heaviest pack we strap to Werelion’s back. Filled with enough water and food for a month, it’s more like a large trunk.

“Is that too heavy, Werelion?” I ask, very concerned.

“No, not in the slightest. It is not heavy at all.”

“He is as large as a house. Why could he not carry a trunk?” the Guardian chortles.

“Yeah, he’s as large as a house and yet you still run your mouth. Do I need to shut it for you?” I say, and Jellia stifles a giggle. When the Guardian turns his glare on her, she straightens up.

“The Wizard does not want you here. That means you are no longer welcome,” he says, his words slow and drawn out as if we’re morons who couldn’t understand him otherwise. “It is time for you to go. Make haste,” he says clapping at us like we’re animals, and I lose it.

With a flick of my wrist, my rainbow light flies across the room, hits him right in the mouth, and hovers over his lips like a muzzle.

“I warned you,” I say, and he steps toward me, pointing his staff. Another flick of my wrist and his staff is my hand in a blink. “Enough is enough. Stand there, shut your pie hole, and let us gather our things in peace. When we leave, if you’ve behaved yourself, I will give you back your voice and your staff.”

While he fumes, I turn to Ardie and pass him the staff, gather the last of our things, and with Toto in tow, we leave the suite. The Guardian seethes with anger as we get into the magical elevator and he dials in our destination. When the emerald door slides closed, the emerald and copper box takes off. After a few careening twists and turns that make Werelion whimper, the doors open into a small emerald space that looks a lot like solitary confinement. The Guardian steps out into the windowless room and Jellia follows.

“What is this?” Nick asks, very wary.

“It is fine,” Jellia says with a reassuring smile. She’s always been very sincere so I nod to the others, and when we step out of the elevator into the hexagonal room, the door slides closed behind us.

The Guardian places his hand on the bare wall before him and a large cavern appears. With an expectant glare he holds out his hand for his staff. After a deep sigh, I remove his muzzle with a wave my hand.

“I despise witches,” he spits, and rubs his mouth clean.

“Witches despise you right back, crotchety old sourpuss.”

“Staff,” he demands, his arm still proffered.

As I pick up Toto, Ardie hands the Guardian his staff.

“Spectacles,” he says, holding out his other hand. We all take off our emerald glasses and hand them back to him.

“Which road leads to the Vampire Witch of the West?” asks Ardie.

“There is no road. No one ever wishes to go that way.”

“How are we supposed to get there?” I ask, baffled.

“That will be easy,” replies the Guardian as a sinister grin takes over his old glittery face, “for when she knows you are in Winkie Land, she will find you and make you her slaves.”

“Keep to the West, where the sun sets,” Jellia tells us. “That is the only way to tell where to go. Oz destroyed the roads, grew the mountains right over them to keep people from going there. Riddled with vampires, the only living who remain in Winkie Land are slaves used as servants and feed bags.”

“That would have been good to know sooner,” Ardie says.

“I have prepared us for traversing mountains. All that lies between Emerald and Winkie Land is mountains,” Nick says.

“We could go back to that river, couldn’t we? That river near Munchkin that Ardie got stuck in. We could take the transport back there and build another raft and take the river,” I suggest.

“That will take us weeks out of our way.”

“Not if we take the transport,” Ardie suggests.

“That river is rough. Rocks and swift-moving currents are abundant in some parts. In others, the river is shallow and slow. The river winds and it is far from a direct route. Not to mention they would see us entering Winkie Land and they would capture us the moment we arrived.”

“Okay, bad idea. Got it. So we’re taking the mountains?”

“It is the most direct route and far easier to stay out of sight, so yes.”

“Now that you’re decided, please leave,” the Guardian says. This time, I ignore him.

“Thank you so much for everything,” I tell Jellia and hug her goodbye with Toto in my arms who licks her chin. She giggles and hugs us back.

“Goodbye, and good luck. I know you will be the ones who save us all.”

“Goodbye, Jellia,” I say, and follow Nick, Ardie, and Werelion into the cavern in the wall.

When I step in, it fills with a green mist and soon we’re flying through hexagonal sheets of crystal that fall away in a green kaleidoscope. Werelion howls in distress, terrified as always, so Toto howls along with him. The sheets of emerald open up to blue sky and Oz shoots us into the air in a high arc. When the thick mist morphs into a large bubble that fits us all, Nick pulls me to him, Ardie puts an arm around me and Werelion, and we float from the highest tower in the palace over the city and over the rampart.

I expect the bubble to lower us to the ground, but it keeps floating out toward the mountains in the distance, over fancy emerald estates and lush emerald farms, over fields of colorful crops and vibrant flowers, and it hits home how stupid agreeing to this could be. This bubble could escort us right to our executioner. I don’t trust this Wizard, but through this entire journey, what’s kept me going is my belief that I’d make it home—Gaylette’s hat knew my name and told me to go to the City of Emeralds. If this has to happen for me to get home, Nick is right, and I have to try. From here on out, I must do whatever it takes to kill this Vampire Witch. I only hope I didn’t just get us all killed.

20

The Search for the Vampire Witch

Hours upon hours pass and we are still in this bubble, floating over fields of soft grass dotted with daisies and buttercups and dried up puddles of old blackened blood and decomposing bones. The moment we left, I handed Toto to Ardie, took out my two girlish braids, and pulled my hair into a low bun, tight and out of my face. The ground becomes rougher and hillier as we advance with untilled ground and no farms or houses for miles.

By the afternoon, the sun shines hot in our faces, but as the sun sets, we approach the mountains, reaching the foothills by the time it falls below the horizon line. When the bubble lowers us to the ground at the mountain’s base, it pops, leaving us here to navigate for ourselves the rest of the way. It would have been ideal for the bubble to take us over the mountains, but I guess help from the Wizard only goes so far.

Werelion is happy to be free from the confines of the zero-gravity bubble, and it’s nice to walk around, but this isn’t the best place to camp—there are no trees to hide us. Here, we are sitting ducks. It’s too dark to head into the mountains though, so we set up camp out in the barren open. Ardie offers to keep watch while the rest of us sleep, and that brings me some relief, but it doesn’t change what a terrible place this was to drop us for the night.

Ardie tells us all he has learned of the Vampire Witch as we have our modest dinner together.

“The Vampire Witch of the West has but one eye that can see everywhere. She sits in the door of her castle, looking around spying on her enemies,” he tells us. “Even now, she is watching us, knowing just what we intend to do,” Ardie warns.

“Yikes, I hope you’re wrong.”

“Winkie Land is a long distance off still—I doubt we are in her sights yet,” Nick says.

“Good,” says Werelion, and I couldn’t agree more.

After dinner, we get into our two tents—me with Nick and Toto with the Werelion—while Ardie stays up and keeps watch. The loose undergarments they wear in Oz are just like pajamas, so I take off my side button pants and blouse and exchange them for black silk shorts and a camisole, then snuggle into our giant sleeping bag. Nick takes off his helmet and chest plates only, for fear of an attack, but when he gets into the sleeping bag beside me, he still holds me close, his arms wrapped around me, and it makes me feel safer somehow. Worn out from the day’s events, we drift off to sleep in seconds.

“Something is coming!” Ardie whispers, waking me and Nick from a dead sleep. “Werebeasts perhaps. There are many and they are coming fast,” he says with an urgency that frightens me.

Nick and I jump up and move—he puts on his remaining armor while I go into the bag of weapons and pull out a sword for Ardie. Nick rushes out of our tent, axes in his hands ready to fight, and I follow with the sword as my boots cover me in armor. Ardie is telling the Werelion who quakes with fear inside the tent he is sharing with Toto, so I peek inside, popping my head up behind Ardie’s.

“Stay in here and keep Toto safe for me, will you?”

The Werelion nods before we close up their tent, and I hand Ardie the sword before I take my position beside Nick standing with his axes ready to strike whatever is coming our way.

Darkness proliferates but thanks to the moonlight and my vision enhancing boots, I can see. Something that sounds like a stampede comes toward us, and howling follows. Even Ardie looks nervous holding the long sword in both hands, a slight tremble in his grip.

“Don’t worry, I got this. Just pick up any who get past me.”

Footsteps pound and rumble against the ground. Whatever is coming is coming fast. The howling gets louder and more of them join in as they approach—it’s unnerving but thanks to my boots, fear is never a factor in these situations.

As our attackers get closer, my armor covers my eyes and homes in on about forty werewolves charging toward us.

“Werewolves,” I say.

“This is my fight,” says Nick. “Get behind me and I will meet them as they come.”

“How do you figure? There are around forty, which means we need to work together. Get ready to chop off some heads, boys.”

“But—” Nicks starts, and I cut him off as the werewolves charge through the pitch black.

“Get ready, they’re here,” I say, my voice low but commanding enough that he listens.

Nick readies his sharpened axes as the pack of werewolves near. Long silver swords extend from my fists as I rush forward swinging in beautiful spins and patterns while double-edged axe-like blades protract from my heels and elbows. They drop four and five at a time—heads roll, body parts fly—and I get a lot of them, but some barrel past me.

Clean through the waist with a spinning kick, I take out another werewolf as I catch sight of Nick swinging his arm and chopping a werewolf’s head in half in one blow. Another werewolf makes it past me, but he also falls under the sharp edge of Nick’s weapon. Nick swings with both arms at once while Ardie swings his sword at any that pass Nick by, and in less than a minute, they all lay dead in a heap. Spent, Nick puts down his axes.

“Good fight,” Ardie says as my armor shrinks back into my boots.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” Nick says as he gathers his axes. I take the sword from Ardie, and we head to our tent.

“Rest well,” Ardie says as we head inside.

Nick takes off his armor and lays it in a pile in the corner of our tent. Tense, angry even, he says nothing.

“That was intense.” He lies down beside me, still silent. “Are you all right?”

“No, I am angry with you, Dorothy.”

“What? Why me?” Why the hell is he mad at me?

“Because I asked you to let me handle it and you dismissed me. Those werewolves could have hurt you or worse. Next time, allow me to handle it on my own.”

“Uh, I have the boots, weapons from a witch, and I took out more than half of them myself. What’s the point of sitting back and letting you fight forty some odd werewolves alone?”

“Because I could have handled it and they could have hurt you.”

“Look, I get that in this world of yours women may not be fighters, but I have these magic boots that protect me, give me strength, make me fearless, cover me with magical metal head to foot, and I have a bag of weapons that can kill lots of werewolves. So why don’t you get over your chauvinistic crap and let me fight with you.”

“Dorothy, I cannot have you hurt.”

“And I cannot have you hurt, so we are at an impasse. Although you may be used to operating alone, you’re part of a team now, and we protect each other. That’s just the way it is. Get used to it.”

His jaw clenches and he huffs, still upset, but he’s getting over it. A long silence passes between us and it’s clear he’s upset, but it’s because he worries about me, because he cares. Although he’s reluctant to touch me, I cuddle up to him, and he does not hesitate to put his arms around me and hold me close.

“I’m sorry you’re mad at me,” I say, and he sighs, his body relaxing as he unclenches.

“You must stay safe. If you do not, all of this is for nothing.”

“No, it’s not. You are going to the City of Emeralds after this and maybe it will stay vampire free. Ardie will get his cure. The Werelion will get his courage. I’m not the only one who has an interest in this mission of ours.”

“You are the only one I care about.”

“I care about you too. If you didn’t notice I was a help in that fight. These boots make me friggin’ awesome.”

“Friggin’ awesome?” he echoes with an amused smirk and a raised brow.

“Friggin’ A right. Bet your sweet ass they do.”

“Bet my sweet ass? This bathroom talk of yours doesn’t always make sense you realize,” he smirks.

“You have a very sweet ass,” I tease and grab his butt with both hands, and he pulls me tight to him.

“Oh, Dorothy,” he sighs. “I will miss you and your defiant behavior and your bathroom talk.”

“Let’s not think about it.”

He places a gentle kiss on my lips that feels like so much more than a deep, lusty kiss would. This feels like love. But I remind myself those are my feelings, not his. He cares for me, and maybe even loves me, but only as a dear friend.

Just like we have every night for the past week, we fall asleep in each other’s arms, and when we wake, we pack our things, have a quick breakfast so as not to have to look at the pile of dead werewolves that surround us, and head into the mountains.

“It was the Vampire Witch who sent those werewolves for us. I know it,” Ardie says.

“She knows we’re coming for her,” the Werelion says in fear.

“Then we better move faster,” Nick says, picking up his pace, and we all follow suit making it through the first mountain range in good time.

Though fields of tall grass, so tall we can’t see over the blades, we make our way to the next set of mountains in the distance, Nick hacking his way across the grasslands with his axes before us. When the sun is right over our heads, we stop to eat a quick lunch and continue on our way.

Just as the sun sets Toto barks, his head looking into the horizon, and I follow his gaze to a massive flock of dark figures. They look like very large black birds, and as they draw near, I see they are shifter birds—werecrows I think.

The werecrows fly in one great flock toward us when Ardie says, “This is my battle. Get down below the tall blades of grass and let me handle this.”

“Again with this? No one of us alone can handle all those werecrows.”

“I said get behind me, Dorothy!” Ardie commands, so I take a step behind him but there is no way I’m not fighting this with him.

Nick draws two sharp axes as I pull out two long blades from my bag of weapons, and Werelion gets down low holding Toto to his chest, keeping him protected. I nod to him in thanks as he cowers.

My boots expand and cover my entire body in silver weaponized armor leaving only my face revealed as the King Werecrow—an anthropomorphized bird man covered in shining blue-black feathers with a golden crown on his head—swoops down on us head first at the head of the flock. Ardie reaches up and with both hands twists his head right off his neck. He eats birds brains, hunts them every day, and this must be how he does it.

They all dive at us, each the size of a large man with massive wingspans. This doesn’t stop Ardie who rips their heads off one by one while Nick and I slice their heads off two by two. Between the three of us, we behead every one leaving a pile of forty some odd headless werecrow bodies with their severed and torn off heads all about us, very bloody, and very dead.

“You can get up now,” Ardie tells the Werelion who is covered in the blood of the crow shifters, as are we all, shaking with Toto in his arms. He sets Toto upon the bloody ground and we pick up our bags, put away our weapons, and continue on our way.

An hour later, I hear a great buzzing in the air. A swarm of large black insects of some sort come flying toward us. They are huge, buzzing with visible fangs and blood-red eyes.

“Vampire Bees,” Nick says, “it’s one way the Vampire Witch infects entire towns of living people.”

“Great,” I mutter.

I figure my boots will protect me, but what about the rest of them, including Toto?

My boots seem to connect to my thoughts. Maybe I can cover us all with the silver armor that comes from the boots if I think it, visualize it the way I have almost everything else I have done. Worth a shot.

“Get close to me, all of you. Werelion, pick up Toto.” Despite their confusion, they do as I say.

As the bees get closer, I visualize the armor surrounding us all in a pod of sorts, impenetrable by even the smallest of things, and as I do, it happens.

My silver armor grows from my boots, creating a structure around us that all the vampire bees fly right into. I can hear them trying to sting through the metal. I imagine the outer shell weaponizing, slicing and severing their stingers and heads.

Soon, the buzzing and screeching from the vampire bees cease. Silence fills the air in place of the loud buzzing and banging, and the metallic structure around us folds back into my boots with an efficient swiftness. Scattered thick around us, broken, dead vampire bees lie headless, their stingers destroyed.

After handing Toto to Ardie, Werelion says, “Oh, Dorothy! Thank you! Thank you!” and throws his giant lion arms around me in a hug.

“No problem. Thank the boots,” I say as I pat his furry back.

“Let us move,” Nick says.

We start upon our journey once more, heading west through the plains. It takes the entire day but with brisk walking we make it to the next set of mountains we must traverse to get to the Vampire Witch’s castle in the Land of the Winkies. What a ridiculous name for a group of people. Although Munchkins aren’t much better, but the name Munchkins sounds appropriate for the little people that live in Munchkin Land. I bet Winkies are even tinier with a name like that, or maybe they wink a lot, or sparkle or something.

“What are Winkies like? Are they teeny-tiny or do they wink a lot?”

Nick laughs at my question.

“Winkies are not tiny. They are tall compared to Munchkins. An adult Winkie ranges in height from one hundred fifty to over two hundred ozmeters,” Ardie says.

“How tall is that? What’s an ozmeter?”

“One fifty to two hundred is somewhere between this tall and this tall,” Ardie says and puts one hand at about five feet and the other at about seven feet. Seven feet is tall.

“Over two hundred ozmeters is excessive,” Nick corrects.

“It is rare, but it exists,” Ardie defends.

“Maximum height for a male is closer to one hundred ninety ozmeters,” Nick returns.

“Hardly a difference at all,” Ardie grumbles.

“Why are they called Winkies though?”

“Winkie it is the name of the area they are from,” Werelion says. “Winkie Land or Land of the Winkies depending on who you speak to.”

“It is because it is on the water and borders a coast of great waves. The waves are winkens there and the people are Winkies. They have funny accents too,” Ardie says.

“No, you’ve got it wrong,” Nick corrects. “It is because they are friendly there and everyone waves at everyone. That is a winken. It’s not waves like in the ocean. It’s waves like a wave hello. A Winkie winkt means a Winkie waves. A Winkie’s winken is a Winkie’s friendly wave hello.”

“That’s true. A Winkie winkt. That’s an expression I know,” Werelion says.

“Yes, a Winkie’s Winken means a Winkie’s friendly wave hello, but the place is Winkie Land because it borders an ocean of great waves,” Ardie corrects.

“That is not why. It is because they are friendly people. A Winkie calls a wave in the water ‘Welle’ and the shore an ‘Ufer’ or the coast a ‘Kuste’. Their language is the same, but some words are different and those are a few of them,” Nick says.

“How do you know?” Ardie challenges.

“My mother was a Winkie.”

“Oh,” Ardie says and quiets.

“What was your father?” Werelion asks.

“My father was born in Emerald but moved to the outskirts of Munchkin when he met my mother and bought our land.”

“Is the Vampire Witch a Winkie?” I ask.

“No. She’s a Vampire Witch, and before she became a vampire, she was the Witch of the West. Winkie Land is the country in the west but it has a royal family, and before she was only the witch of that land, but when she turned, she killed the royal family and took over Winkie Land,” Nick says.

“Are all the Winkies are vampires now?”

“No, they use them for feeding. She keeps them as feedbags for her Vampire Army. She turns entire towns but selects the strongest from each place and brings them into her service. They enslave the rest. To keep them from leaving her service to hunt, she needs living for them to feed off of and the Winkies were a perfect group. They are friendly, kind, and won’t fight back—ideal for her purposes,” Nick explains.

“They need to grow a pair.”

“A pair of what?” Ardie asks.

“Balls.”

“Balls?” Ardie asks confused.

“She means testicles,” Nick explains with a smirk. Ardie’s eyes widen in shock.

“You want all Winkies to be male?” Ardie asks me, very confused.

“It’s an expression. It means toughen up. Get strong.”

“That is odd because testicles are very sensitive and not tough at all.”

“Very true,” I say, chuckling in agreement.

“In her realm, they use words related to sexual intercourse, sexual organs, and their functions in everyday conversation that has nothing to do with sexual intercourse, sexual organs, or their functions,” Nick explains.

“And they call your realm civilized,” Ardie scoffs.

“Right? You are all so uptight in comparison. Except for the monsters. That we don’t have. Not in the same sense. We have plenty of awful and despicable people who are monstrous, but no werebeasts, zombies, or vampires, or vampire witches, no magical powers, but we’ve got plenty of A-holes.”

“A-holes?” Ardie asks confused.

“Anuses,” Nick smirks.

“By the great horn spoon!” Ardie shudders and we both laugh at him.

“Like bad, crappy people,” I explain.

“Crappy people?”

“Crap is feces,” Nick explains.

“Ugh!” Ardie says, a look of horror contorting his zombie face, while Werelion looks bewildered.

“It’s what we call people who suck.”

“Suck penises?”

“People who are mean or unkind or vicious in their behavior toward others,” I explain without swearing.

“Oh my, I see,” Ardie says, and Nick chuckles to himself.

“I love your bathroom talk,” Nick says and gives me a sweet kiss as we walk along between two mountains.

It’s almost like he said he loves me, but not so much. He loves swear words—it’s different. I won’t let it go to my head.

As we continue on through the mountains crossing difficult terrain, I notice my boots help me grip the rock beneath my feet just like it did when we crossed the ravine on the undead tree and I wonder if I could run right up the mountainside if I wished. We are walking on a narrow path between two steep tall mountains when I hear a hiss in the surrounding air, as if it is coming from far off in the distance.

“Do you hear that?”

Toto growls low and quiet, his nose in the air, sniffing.

“Something is coming,” Nick says.

“I’d say so,” Ardie agrees.

Werelion trembles in fear.

“Werelion, grab Toto please.” He picks Toto up and hugs him to his furry chest.

Without knowing what is coming our way, I am unsure what I should take out when I open my bag of weapons. A tall, black leather clad muscular man with pale skin and red eyes elevate over the ridge to our right.

“Vampires,” Nick says.

Of course. Gray clouds blanket the sky—it’s a gloomy day—so why wouldn’t the vampires be out day hunting. With a sigh, I take out two large silver stakes and drop the bag to my side.

“Ardie, take what you need,” I tell him.

“One bite from me and they’re dead for good,” Ardie says getting ready to fight.

Nick removes the two axes from his chest plate and my boots cover me with silver armor, only revealing my face. The vampire on the ridge hisses as he flies down toward us, followed by many more of his kind all wearing matching uniforms of black leather. While Nick and Ardie wait for them to get to us, I run up the side of the steep ravine as I thought perhaps I could, and it works. I stake one after the other, aiming right for their hearts every time. In succession, they drop and splat onto the rocks below.

As though gravity is a nonissue for me, I find I can kick and spin along the side of this mountain just as easily as I could on flat land. Stakes shoot out from the toes of the boots, from my knees, and from my elbows. Along with stakes in my hands, I destroy six at once, repelling from one cliff side to the other in the narrow space they descend upon us.

While Nick and Ardie combat the few that get by me, I flip, kick, spin, and stake the multitude of vampires diving from the ridges above. At least forty attack, and I get at least thirty myself. When I look down below, both Ardie and Nick fight about five remaining vampires between the two of them and Werelion cowers behind a rock holding Toto tight to his chest.

Parallel to the ground, I tear down the side of the mountain. When I come into the fray, I jump and land on my feet with ease. As Nick chops off the heads of his two, I charge in and take out two more while Ardie bites the neck of one, all five dropping dead for good. Vampire blood drips from Ardie’s mouth, and he spits, shuddering in disgust.

“Water might help,” I say, and he nods, so I hurry to my bag behind Werelion, grab the emerald bottle of water, and hand it to Ardie so he may rinse out his mouth. After uncapping it as fast as he can, he pours water in without touching it to his lips, swishes it around and spits.

As my armor shrinks back into my boots, Werelion comes over with Toto and puts him down on the ground beside me.

“Dorothy, that was like nothing I have ever seen. How did you do that?” Werelion asks in awe.

“The boots grip what’s under me, so I thought I might try, and it worked.”

“If I had boots like those, I would never be afraid.” Dreamy and wistful, he swoons at the thought of the boots being his. If the Wizard doesn’t want them, maybe I can give them to him.

“It helps in the fear department,” I say with a light chuckle.

“You are lucky they did what you hoped. It would have been idiotic to attempt had it not,” Nick says.

“But it did, so it wasn’t,” I say as his lips press together—it’s clear he’s annoyed, “and I realize you believe you could have killed them all on your own, but I have an advantage. Please accept I have a lot to offer in these situations.”

With a tick of his jaw, he charges ahead across the rocky terrain. That diva attitude of his has to go.

“Only me, always me, only I can fight, meh meh meh. Sexist jerk face,” I mutter, just as annoyed as Nick.

Frustration niggles away at me as I pick up my bag of weapons, return the stakes, and close it up. Nick is already far ahead, forcing us all to rush to catch up with him.

“Screw him,” I say as I hoist my bags onto my back and follow with Ardie, Werelion, and Toto at my back. Long strides and a brisk pace has me at his side in minutes, but when I fall into step with him, he ignores me, looking straight ahead.

“Please, Nick. Does it have to be like this every time we come up against something now?”

“Now?”

“Before, you didn’t treat me like I was some innocent, fragile flower of a girl. We fought together. I’m not a different person just because we hooked up,” I say, and he still looks straight ahead as his jaw ticks.

“Did I say you were a different person? No, I said the opposite—you never fought a day before you arrived here.”

“Fine, but—”

“And because of this, you should not be so proud, and once in a while defer to those of us who have fought like this every day for many years.”

“Fine,” I huff and charge up ahead of him this time.

Screw him. This fighting monsters thing is something I excel at. Yeah, so I’m new at this, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m faster, capable of so much, and I am protected while I do it. If I didn’t have the boots, there’s no question I’d hang back, but I do, so he can kiss my butt. Fine, he has years of experience, but we don’t have time to talk strategy when fifty some odd vampires fill the sky and dive at you. If I go with my gut, things seem to work out well enough. At least so far. But I also can’t deny he’s right—I have no experience and rush head first into every battle we face. When I don’t take his opinion into consideration, it might seem like I’m saying I don’t trust him or I don’t care what he thinks.

“We should find a place to camp for the night, a cave if possible. Soon it will be dark,” Nick says as he charges past me.

“Please don’t be angry with me,” I say.

“Keep your eyes open, Dorothy. Look for a cave,” he says, not wanting to discuss it as he passes me by.

Enough of his male chauvinistic crap! With the terrain we were on, he would have had a lot of trouble fighting off all those vampires himself. Now he wants me to cower with the Werelion even though I can fight bad guys too? No way. He can forget it.

This time, I charge past him and keep going. As I navigate between two mountains with about five feet between them, I come to a bend where the rocks curve around a corner. When I walk around it, it’s as though I’ve walked into winter. Snow covers everything for miles ahead. At my feet is a clear divide where the dry rock ends and the snow begins. As I look out at what’s before us, Nick walks up alongside me and assesses the landscape.

“Good job racing ahead of everyone. Now we must either go back or traverse this through the night. Here is the coat you forgot to pack,” he says as he unclips the heavy coat from his pack and hands it to me. With narrowed eyes, I snatch it, take off my pack, and put on the coat. When he lifts my pack to help me, I snatch that away from him too before I put it on myself.

“Back off, Nick. If you don’t want to give the impression that we need to haul ass through these mountains, maybe you shouldn’t run away from me like your damn pants caught fire, you ass hat.”

“Ass hat?”

“Yeah, ass hat.”

“Ugh, you drive me to madness!” he bursts.

“Same here!”

“Try not to shout. We don’t want to cause an avalanche,” Ardie says as he passes us and heads into the wintery scene where a picturesque flurry sprinkles snow kissed rocks only three feet ahead, and beyond the rocks is a wider area blanketed with pure white glittering snow for miles. With a huff, I stomp off after Ardie, and when I look back, Werelion carries Toto and Nick follows, so I turn to the sea of white before me.

What we can do to survive the night?

Survive… That’s it!

“Ardie,” I say as I walk up next to him, “look out for a good spot to settle for the night. Someplace not too windy with no banks of snow hanging overhead.”

“Good thinking, Dorothy.”

Survivalist stuff was Billy’s obsession. We’d watch survivalist TV shows together and he would poke holes in everything the host would say. On one episode of the show we always watched together, the guy got stuck in the snow. Billy hated the way he handled it and made it a point to force me to learn the right way to survive a situation just like this one. At the time I was so annoyed—I never thought I’d be in a situation like this. Guess I was wrong.

“What about there?” Ardie says and points to the perfect place to camp.

“Good work. It’s just what we need.”

We head over to the spot he selected and Nick and Werelion follow with Toto.

“This is where you want to stop?” Nick says, ready to reveal why this is a terrible place to camp for the night.

“It’s the perfect spot. It’s not windy like everywhere else—that’s important—and this side of the mountain doesn’t have snow banks that could fall and bury us overhead.”

“If we want to survive the night, we cannot camp here. We need to find a cave to sleep in.”

“This is perfect. Trust me. Now, I could do this without magic, but it’ll be a lot quicker if I do, and way cooler, so here goes,” I say as I raise my hands in front of me, not sure how to approach this.

“What are you doing?” Nick asks.

“Blowing your mind. Just give me a second.”

Focus my energy. Close my eyes. Take a deep breath.

The most amazing snow cave I could imagine enters my mind’s eye as the magical rainbow simmers inside me. Icy blue and lavender light pours from my palms in an arch as flickering flashes of rainbow glint in the mist forming a beautiful structure of ice and snow with all the features I envisioned. Once that’s complete, I turn and build a magical fire pit about twenty feet away.

“What is that?” Ardie breathes, astonished.

“It’s a snow cave. Or an igloo like structure.”

“We will freeze in that,” Nick says.

“No, we won’t. The entrance is lower than the floor on the inside, so the cold air will gather at the entrance while inside stays warm, or warmer anyhow. What we should worry about is an avalanche, but this is a safe spot in that regard. The biggest concern after that would be suffocation, but I added some small holes in the ceiling so air will circulate. It will make things a touch colder, but we can put a snowball over the holes until we go to sleep.”

“How do you know to do this? Is Kansas freezing?” Werelion asks.

“My ex-boyfriend was into survivalist stuff. You know, extreme situations and how to survive them in the wild and what not,” I say, and tell them all about the snow cave tutorial he gave me.

“Perhaps it pays to listen to people when they might know more than you on a subject,” Nick says, and charges into the igloo—the igloo I built with magic that looks like an ice palace, thank you. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill him.

Werelion, Ardie, and I head inside and it’s just as amazing as I pictured it with fifteen foot high ceilings for Werelion to fit with ease, beds made of packed snow, elevated above the floor to help with heat, benches along the walls, and glittering balls of pale yellow magic to light the space without the extreme heat of fire. Even I’m amazed I did this. The boots didn’t make me do that either. I did that. Yeah, it’s magic on loan, but I still did that, and I’m proud.

“This is perfect,” Ardie says.

“It’s not done yet. We need to insulate the floor, lay out the camping pads we brought.”

“What about the tents?”

“We only need the sleeping bags in here. The tents would add extra insulation, but if insulating the floor means we can’t use them with the tents, it’s far more important to insulate the floor.”

While Nick sets up the tents on top of the beds, we lay out the camping pads on the floor, and when we finish lining the floor with the pads, Ardie goes into the trunk Werelion’s been carrying, takes out our dinners, and we go out to the magic fire pit I conjured to sit and eat.

As warm as a fire, perhaps warmer, magic doesn’t scare Ardie the way real fire does, so he sits close. When Nick finishes setting up the tents inside the igloo, he walks over to us at the magic fire pit and sits beside Werelion. The tension in the air is palpable. Nobody speaks, and we eat in uncomfortable silence until Werelion breaks it.

“What you saw when you went into the hollow flabbergasts me. Do you think it’s real? Is that our future?”

“It was more likely an illusion than not,” Nick says.

“Why must it be an illusion?” Ardie asks.

“Did I say it must be? No, I said it was likely and illusion because it is. Oz is not powerful enough to kill the Vampire Witch himself, yet he can send Dorothy and me through space, outside of the cosmos, to see… Whatever that was—”

“The multiverse,” I interject.

“The what?” Ardie asks.

“The multiverse. It means multiple universes. We saw thousands upon thousands of encapsulated universes moving like a kaleidoscope in a flower of life pattern. It was surreal and mind-blowing and why couldn’t it be real?”

“I didn’t say it couldn’t be real. I said it was probable it was not.”

“You think it’s real?” Werelion asks me.

“Yeah, I do,” I say.

“So you think we live in an egg?” Nick asks with a smirk and a raised brow, being a total jerk face.

“An egg?” Ardie asks with perplexed scrunched brows.

“Yes, Dorothy thinks the white space we were in is like the white of an egg, and the bubbles that hold the realms are the yoke.”

“It was just a thought, an idea. I don’t know what it was.”

“If it is an egg, I shudder to think of what it will birth,” Nick says with a snort.

“Why shudder?” Ardie asks.

“If the realms are the yoke, and within the realms so much evil exists, what do you think the thing that comes of it will be like?”

“Maybe that’s our job,” I suggest. “Maybe we’re supposed to heal that evil somehow.”

“Our job? The four of us?” Nick challenges.

“Everyone. Everyone who is good. Maybe it’s everyone’s job to make things better, to shine our light on the darkness.”

“So everything will be gray like Kansas?” Nick retorts.

“Not all light is pure white. Light comes in colors too.”

“So does darkness,” Werelion adds.

“That’s true,” I agree. “You know it’s funny. In my realm, people believe so deeply in things they cannot see—they fight wars over it, hate each other over it—but in a place where magic is everywhere and a person can turn into a zombie or a vampire or an animal, here you can see the answers to the great questions with your eyes, have a witness to support what you saw so you know you’re not crazy, and you still don’t believe. It’s so different from where I’m from.”

“In your realm, people hate each other over things they cannot see?” Werelion asks, confusion drawing his brows together.

“Yes. No one knows the answers, but the questions have plagued us from the beginning. How did we get here? Why are we here? What else is out there? What’s the purpose of it all? In my realm, a long time ago, people answered those unanswerable questions and formed groups based on those answers. The people who believe their group knows the correct answer put their faith in that answer and live their lives by it. But some of those people believe in their answers so much, they hate people who don’t believe what they believe.”

“How sad,” Werelion says, and I couldn’t agree more.

“Yeah, very sad.”

“Do any of them have the right answer?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen that pattern before though, in my realm, so I don’t think everyone is so far off or anything, but is what they think it is what it is? Who knows?”

“Uh,” Ardie says, trying to compute what I just said and failing.

“You have seen the pattern before?” Nick asks.

“Yes. It’s called the Flower of Life. It is a symbol from something we call Sacred Geometry, and I only know that because I had a tray in my house when I was growing up with the pattern. My mom put crystals on it. She was into all that spiritual stuff. Once, I was messing with it, and my dad stopped me and explained what it was, what it meant.”

“What does it mean?” Ardie asks.

“The Flower of Life is a symbol of creation. We’re all made of the same stuff, formed the same way. It unifies us, those building blocks, that blueprint we share.”

“And it looks like a flower?” Werelion asks.

“Yeah, it does.”

“What kind of flower?”

“It’s a series of overlapping circles that make a grid,” I say and call my magic up, a rainbow glow emanating from the tip of my index finger.

With my lit-up finger, I draw a circle over the snow in rainbow light that lies atop the glittery flat surface, then another, and another, and I keep going until the pattern appears.

“See how it looks like a flower?” I ask Werelion at my side who hovers over the symbol.

“Yes, I see it. Ardie, do you see it?”

Ardie rises, walks over and looks at the pattern.

“You made this from a series of circles?”

“Yeah, see?”

I continue to draw the pattern to show him, and when I draw the last circle, I draw one large circle around it to look like the tray my mom had when I was growing up.

“This is what my mom’s tray—” I say when the pattern and the surrounding circle glow in rainbow light. Nick rushes over and we watch as an image appears from the center and bleeds out to fill the entire ring.

A beautiful woman in a gold dress with long, thick, wavy golden blonde hair stands on the balcony of a golden palace looking out over a golden village when a gorgeous bronze haired man steps out, wraps his arms around her waist, and kisses her neck.

“That is them,” Nick says, seething with anger.

“Who?”

“The Vampire Witch and Quelala,” Nick says.

“Who?”

“Quelala, her general. The rumor is he turned both witches.”

“Quelala is the first vampire,” Ardie tells me.

“What a name,” I say with a snort. “Although I guess it’s not too far off from Dracula.”

“Who is Dracula?” Werelion asks.

“A vampire from stories in my realm—he’s a famous character.”

“Well, Quelala is a real vampire, not a vampire from a story, and that is him,” Nick says.

“You’ve seen him?” Werelion asks Nick, his lower lip quivering.

“Many times.”

“You escaped him?” Ardie says, stunned.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“How?” Ardie asks, intrigued.

“From what I gather, he wants to turn me. Perhaps he wants me for his army. Many times they have tried to capture me, but they failed every time.”

“Any word?” the Vampire Witch says, and I turn my attention back to the snowy screen.

When she turns around to face him, her fiery red eyes are ablaze with flecks of gold while her skin is a pale bone gray against her lipstick that shimmers the colors of a sunset.

“They confirmed the wolves are dead—beheaded and dismembered—and the bees never returned,” he says and looks up at her with burgundy eyes like dark pools of wine that see deep into the place where her soul would be if she had one, and he draws her right into his gaze. “Do not fret, my queen—we will best them soon enough. The closer they get, the easier it will be to eliminate them. The shoes will be yours soon. Then, it is only a matter of time before all the realms are ours,” he says and kisses her, and their image fades away, leaving only the snow in its place.

“Does she even care I killed her sister, or is it all about the boots?”

“They are a powerful charm. With the power she already has, those boots will make her indestructible,” Ardie says.

“She would have to kill Dorothy to get them,” Nick says and Werelion gasps. “But that will never happen, because we will kill her first.”

“That’s right,” Ardie agrees

“We should rest and wake up early with the sunrise,” Nick says and goes into our tent.

“Goodnight,” I say, kiss Toto, and follow Nick into the tent.

The light peeks in, dimly illuminating the space. In silence, Nick removes his armor as I undress, put on my loose black undergarments and the heavy wool nightgown Jellia packed for me, fold my clothes, and get into the extra-large sleeping bag he’s laid out for us. When he’s done removing his armor and pants, he gets into our sleeping bag, lies down beside me, and rolls over, turning his back to me. Ugh.

“You’re a moody little brat sometimes, you know that?”

“What did you call me?” he says as he turns to face me, ready for a confrontation.

“Moody. Little. Brat. Why are you mad at me? Because I didn’t act like an incapable, frail little girl? You’re being a total sexist blowhard. And I get you want to be ‘the man’ and protect me, but I am a big help in these situations. Get used to it and stop punishing me when you don’t get to play the big hero and kill everyone all by yourself,” I say with a humph, roll over, and turn my back on him.

He huffs at my words, then after a long silence, he whispers, “They could have hurt you.”

“They could have hurt you. In fact, it was far more probable they would have hurt me if I had cowered behind you or a rock or something and left you to get hurt taking all of them on by yourself. Goodness, Nick, I’m sick of the way you react when I help fight off attackers. If you can’t see I’m good at it, you can kiss my ass,” I say not turning around.

After a moment I feel his puckered lips touch my butt cheek. When I turn my head, he’s smiling at me.

“Is that what you wanted?”

“You’re an idiot,” I say as I roll onto my back. He sits up over me, looking down at me and he seems sad.

“I am sorry I was angry, but I want to protect you and it makes it very hard when you throw yourself into the fray like that.”

“Don’t forget I have these magic boots that make me awesome. Get over it already and let me protect you sometimes without punishing me for it afterward.”

“While I have been fighting gangs of vampires for years, you never have. I worry not because you are a woman but because I… because I know that you do not really know how to do what you are doing. Because you act before you think and that is a sure way to get yourself killed, or turned, or hurt.”

Logical, but I have the boots.

“If I didn’t have these boots, I would cower behind you, but I have them and they give me strength, make me fearless, they do everything my mind can fathom in those dire situations. These boots protect me and all of us.”

“Dorothy, I care for you, and I need you to remain unharmed. I would do anything to make sure of that.”

“Oh Nick, you are a bit of a control freak—I see that—and I appreciate your concern for me, I do,” I say as I reach up and cup his cheek with my hand. “I feel the same for you and I want to protect you too, but I also see your point. Please don’t think I don’t care what you have to say because I do, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

“Oh, Dorothy.”

His gaze grips my heart as he says my name, and when he leans down to kiss me, he wraps his arms around me in a tight embrace. Surges of what I’m sure is love fill my heart—it means so much to know I am dear to him and that he’s willing to sacrifice his own safety for mine. I feel the same for him though, so he’ll have to learn to compromise.

“My Dorothy,” he murmurs between kisses.

I am his Dorothy—always will be. Even if we’re realms apart, I will always be his.

* * *

Magic tickles me awake, like a niggling itch on my consciousness telling me to get up. When my eyes open, I hear it—water dripping. I open the tent and peek my head out. Ardie isn’t inside—he must have gone out to hunt. Toto and Werelion are both snoring in their tent as water drips down the icy walls of our melting snow hut. I try waving my arm having an Elsa moment in my mind, but nothing happens. Guess the Disney princess thing won’t work for me. I should have figured that. It worked yesterday though, so I go through the same motions I did then—I raise my hands before me and imagine the snow hut freezing over again. Still nothing.

What am I doing wrong?

Take a breath. Close my eyes. I ask what ignited the rainbow within me to help me freeze this structure before it collapses. Slush falls onto my forehead once, then again. The snow over my head crumbles. I raise my arms over my head to protect myself as my boots cover me in armor. Snow falls in big clumps before the entire roof, now far too wet and powdery, breaks apart. A gasp flies from my lips as icy blue light beams from my hands and fills the melting igloo with a pale blue mist that shimmers with ice crystals. It freezes the structure solid and back to what it was.

When the mist clears, an exhale of relief leaves me, and I plop down on the snow bench at my back. Nick comes out of the tent, his eyes still sleepy.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his rasp making him sound even sexier than usual.

“It is now,” I say, not wanting to admit my bright idea about the snow cave almost got us killed.

“Where is the zombie?”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Where is he?”

“Hunting?”

“We need to move. The sun is bright. Soon enough this little structure will melt. And it would be nice to make it through the snow before nightfall,” he says and gets out of the tent. As my armor folds back into my boots, I get up to dress, add some layers, and pack up. By the time I’m done, Werelion and Toto are both up and eating breakfast with Nick by the magic fire that still burns. I put on the coat that Nick got for me and head out to the magic fire pit as Ardie returns from his morning hunt. We all sit and have breakfast together, then head out again.

After hours of walking between snowy mountains, we come to a spot where the only way to go is up—we have no choice other than to climb. Nick seems to think we should be able to see her castle from the ridge. Ardie agrees, so we hike higher and higher through the afternoon, taking turns carrying Toto, tying him to one of us when we climb steeper, rockier terrain.

When we reach the summit of the mountain, we can see all around us far and wide. In the distance is Winkie Land, made of gold and white marble, sitting on a turquoise ocean with glittering golden sands called the Winkie Kuste. And atop the hill that looms over Winkie Land is the Vampire Witch’s golden castle. It’s not too far off—a few days away on foot—so we start off down the mountain.

“Do you hear that?” Ardie asks.

Sounds of chattering get louder by the second. When I look up, I see a swarm of what I think are large bats coming our way. Bat shifters.

“Vampire bat monkeys!” Ardie shouts.

Along the summit of the mountain, there is nowhere to hide. On one side of us is a steep long fall to a river below that we would not survive. The other side is a steep long fall into jagged rocks that’s just as bad. We have nowhere to go. As I reach out to gather them to me and create a protective structure around us, I am swooped up by a vampire bat monkey faster than I can think. The armor from my boots covers me, latching onto the hands and feet of the vampire bat monkey so it can’t drop me even if it wants to. I see Nick, Ardie, and the Werelion taken too, but Toto avoids being snatched up.

“Run, Toto! Run!” I shout, and he bolts. Straightaway, I lose sight of him—he has always been a good hider.

They fly us away from the summit and the one carrying Ardie drops him into the rocky ravine below.

“Ardie!” I scream.

“I’ll be all right!” he calls as he falls and I remember he won’t die, even with such a terrible fall into jagged rocks—being a zombie has its advantages. The branches of a tall tree sticking out on the side of the mountain catch Ardie, thank goodness. His injuries will be far less than splatting on sharp rocks.

As some relief washes over me, the one carrying Nick drops him into the ravine below.

“Nick!” I scream in shock, frantic.

“Dorothy!” he cries out as he falls to his death.

He falls so far I can no longer see or hear him when he hits the rocks. Or the water. It doesn’t matter which. From this height, there is no way he survived.

Deep sorrow takes root in my heart as gut wrenching sobs pour from within me. Gone in a blink, taken from me so fast. How much more of this can I handle in one lifetime?

He’s dead.

He’s really dead.

The vampire bat monkey who snatched me up is trying to drop me too but can’t because my boots have latched onto his monkey feet. The one carrying the Werelion doesn’t drop him either. Instead, the remaining vampire bat monkeys tie him up with thick rope midair as they carry us right to the Vampire Witch’s castle. The entire way, I replay every moment while riddled with regret for never having told Nick I loved him even if he didn’t love me the same way. The pain is far too familiar and still like nothing I have ever experienced.

Broken, dolorous cries rack my body as the hollow, cold pit in my heart returns. I’ve lost Toto forever—my best friend, my family—and I am shattered, heartbroken in every sense. Every person who I loved with every inch of myself, I have lost, and it’s always unexpected. In the short time I knew him, I grew to love Nick with my entire soul, and I hate I never told him. If I had, at least he would have known someone did before he died.

Fury and anguish clash inside me as this chattering monkey with bat wings, vampire fangs, and red eyes hauls me though the sky. As I assess the situation, considering all the possibilities, resolve kicks in and takes control. This evil creature is taking me to her—I’m sure of it—and that’s the only place I want to be at the moment. I have a new purpose in life—to make Ezdalina pay. Before, I thought I couldn’t kill her when it came down to it, not unless she was attacking me, but now I have no problem assassinating her the first chance I get. For Nick and Toto and all the Lands of Oz, I vow to destroy the last Vampire Witch, Quelala, and every vampire in this realm.

21

In the Service of Evil

The city below my feet shines gold as I am hauled to the castle on the hill occupied by the Vampire Witch of the West. Up ahead, twelve vampire bat monkeys carry a strung up and hogtied Werelion to the courtyard of the castle and land before a golden gate pulsing in golden light. The gate opens and they drag him inside, close the gate, and lock him in.

Ezdalina emerges from her golden castle as the vampire bat monkeys ahead land. Her flowing golden hair and pale skin highlighted by the gold outfit she wears almost identical to Gayelette’s, with a pointy golden cap just like hers. Although she is beautiful, she is ugly in her heart to do what she’s done to this realm, to my friends, and soon I will destroy her.

As I descend, the leader of the vampire bat monkeys says to the Vampire Witch, “We have obeyed you. We destroyed the Axeman and the Zombie, as you specified. The Werelion is in your yard, as you specified. The girl wears the silver boots of your sister and we could not eliminate her, so we brought her here. We have met our obligation to you. Your power over our band is over, and you will never see us again.”

About ten feet over the courtyard my armor releases the vampire bat monkey and I drop to the ground, landing on my feet in a deep bend at the knee five feet in front of Ezdalina. As all the Vampire Bat Monkeys fly into the air, I rise, straightening and squaring off.

Surrounded by her army of Vampires in black leather uniforms, the Vampire Witch looks at me and sees the silver boots and the armor that grows from them, narrows her eyes, and whispers something in Quelala’s ear who stands at her side. Our eyes connect, his cabernet gaze penetrating mine as a small smile takes over his lips. Oh, he’s got game—I’ll give him that. The look he’s giving me is so good I’m impressed. The soft smile on his lips with the penetrating stare that screams, ‘Fate has brought us together,’ is laughable. But if he can go there, so can I.

As my eyes darken, I lower the armor on my head alone, keeping everything from my neck down covered. Magic simmers inside me, so I let it come out to play. And as I stare back at him, I go through my plan—first, I will kill him right in front of her, then I’ll kill her.

Magic tickles my eyes as I gaze into his burgundy pools of soulless death, willing him to come to me, to believe his own lies long enough for me slit his throat, gut him, tear out his heart and hand it to her, or maybe shove it right into her face before I stake her in her dead heart.

Quelala steps out from behind her and approaches me, all the while I’m willing him to believe I’m the one he’s been looking for—I already have the boots, and he could love me, really love me. Because we know he doesn’t love her, not really. He may tell her he does, but he never has. With me, he could have power and love. He could rule the realms with a worthy witch at his side. At three feet away he stops, and we gaze into each other like time has stopped, and then it does. Even I feel a strong connection, and I think this is his power working. He’s gorgeous, but he’s looking at me like he thinks the same of me.

Flashes enter my mind of him kissing me, making love to me, bringing me to euphoric heights, but my magic adds to the list with visions of us ruling the realms together—we stand, holding each other, dressed like vampire royalty in a bubble that floats in the white space as we watch over the realms moving in their pattern, knowing it is all ours. As he looks into my eyes, he steps toward me, and when he leans in to kiss me, just as he is in the vision, my armor grows a long, sharp sword that shoots from my fist clear through his pelvis. The look of utter shock on his face makes me smile as I pull up and slice him clean through to his sternum. He coughs up deep red blood that shimmers with ruby flecks of light.

“Take her!” Ezdalina screams.

The surrounding vampires step toward me as my sword retracts into my armor, and as I pull my hand from his chest, I rip his heart out with it. At least fifty vampire soldiers attack and I go into action fighting each of them off.

Time bends strangely in these boots, and somehow I move so fast that the world slows down but it all goes by in a blink at the same time. A split-second feels like five minutes and a split-second all at once, and in those split-seconds I take out four, five, six at a time, and I’m doing it while holding a bleeding heart in my hand. Vampires drop dead for good around me, and when at least thirty are down, the rest retreat into the castle. All but the Vampire Witch who stands eyeing me without fear. Big mistake.

Ready to dive at her and shove this heart down her throat, I charge, but when I reach her, it’s as if I’ve run right into a wall, and I fly back in pain. When I hit the ground, Quelala approaches, his shirt torn in half and bloody where I sliced him in two moments ago. He snatches his heart out of my hand, and when I snap out of my stunned state, I go to attack but can’t move.

“You are more powerful than I expected, but you are not more powerful than Ezdalina,” he says, loud enough for her to hear before he leans into my ear and says in a voice like soft velvet, “You’ll come around soon enough, my love.”

He steps away from me and returns to Ezdalina’s side as I rise against my will, walk over, and kneel before them like a dutiful subject. No matter how much I resist, I cannot stand or move anything other than my eyes. I’m not sure I can even speak.

“Nice trick. I see why you’d need to do this. No one would bend the knee to you otherwise.” I guess I can speak.

“Sniveling little brat,” she spits.

“Dusty old hag,” I snap back.

“Oh, I will enjoy this,” she purrs in her nasal voice.

“Eek, that voice. Shrill. No wonder he’s looking to trade you out. I get it now,” I say to Quelala. “My sympathies. Don’t worry. I’ll kill her soon enough. Then your eardrums will be free from suffering.”

“Those are my sister’s boots, my dear. They will never harm me, and neither will you as long as they are on your feet. Now, come with me and see that you mind everything I tell you, for if you do not, I will make an end of you, just as I did of the Axeman and the Zombie.”

At her words and with a wave of her hand, I feel my body do just as she commands. Quelala smirks at me as I follow her with no control over my movements into her golden castle, through many beautiful rooms made entirely of golden marble and decorated with gold moldings and filigreed archways, into the kitchen.

“Now you will clean,” she says and waves her hand before charging out of the room.

Thrown to the floor by her invisible magic, I fall to my knees and begin scrubbing blood covered pots and kettles with no control of my body. When I finish, I sweep the floor while keeping the furnace fed with wood. This goes on all night on repeat as more dishes come in, brought by enslaved Winkies in gold servants' uniforms who are also here under her control.

My body works through the night and the next day. Toward the early hours of the morning, I fall asleep for a short while only to awaken to find myself on my hands and knees scrubbing bloodstains from the floor. Controlled by her spell, I scrub every inch of the kitchen, every corridor, every bedroom throughout the massive castle all day and all night for three days sleeping for as long as I can while I do, moving as her puppet, weeping over the loss of Ardie, Toto, and Nick the entire time.

To my surprise, the vampires do not bite me. They do not even speak to me, nor do the Winkies who are also her slaves, under a spell just like mine, moving against their will. Perhaps if the vampires speak to me, it would threaten the spell and I could fight back. They do, however, bite the Winkies at their will, sucking their blood as if they’re here not only to do the Vampire Witch’s bidding but also to feed her soldiers. Occasionally a vampire drains a Winkie of all their blood and another Winkie slave comes in to take their place.

My involuntary cleaning duties take me up to the Vampire Witch’s quarters, where she and her Winkie slaves are attending to her appearances at her ornate vanity. Decked out in grandiloquent gold from her pointy cap to her elaborate shoes, she wears a smug smile on her ashen face as she watches me through the mirror. An ornate gold staff with a giant golden jewel at the top rests across her massive skirt of gold metal and lace and shining, shimmering fabrics.

Angular and beautiful, her pointed chin juts out with pride as she observes me cleaning her room, but her eyes glow with scarlet rage and she shows her fangs to threaten me—she is a terrifying sight with sharp, narrow features and skin so powdery pale it is as if no blood at all runs through her veins. As she watches me, I scrub her bloody stone floors on my hands and knees, and when I get near her, she raises a gold staff to strike me. The armor that still protects my body raises my arm and catches the staff while a small blade from my other hand slices her wrist. No blood runs from her cut, proving my suspicions. Pure shock crosses her face before she covers and smirks. Looks like my suit of armor allows me to defend myself against her—something she did not expect. As her red glowing eyes narrow at me, she holds her wrist in her other hand, and when she removes her grip, the cut heals before my eyes, and although she smirks in triumph, I can tell she’s scared now.

“So, you are Dorothy, the witch who has killed my sister and stolen her boots,” she says with a haughty air of superiority.

“Not that I care anymore, but it was an accident,” I say as I make her bed.

It is the dead of night at the moment and everyone is awake in this palace. They all seem to sleep during the day, being night creatures, as Nick called them.

“I came here by mistake on a cyclone from another realm and my house landed on her. It was not intentional.”

“And then you stole her footwear,” she adds.

“Again, it was not purposeful. These boots appeared on my feet and I can’t get them off. Although I am grateful for that fact at the moment,” I admit. What does it matter at this point? The people I love are dead and I have no recourse. None that I can see. I may as well be honest because why not?

“Ah, yes, you must die for them to come off your feet. That will happen soon enough, my dear.”

“I am not your dear,” I snap.

“You are my slave,” she smirks.

“And you have issues. That’s obvious,” I say and snort.

“Issues? Do I? What might they be?” she says, amusement lighting up her pinched face. That smug attitude of hers makes me sick. Everything about her sickens me.

“All right, you asked for it. One, you are a psycho enslaving people, turning people, and it seems you are doing it all for a guy who is so clearly using you it makes you look pathetic. You’re a sucker on every level.”

“What did you call me?” she asks with a shrill burst of laughter.

“A sucker, you know, a patsy, a gullible mark, easily bamboozled, conned, hoodwinked. You’re a sucker because you let a man turn you into a vampire, steal your soul, manipulate you into everything you do, and he doesn’t even like you that much.”

“I suppose you believe he loves you now,” she says, enjoying this conversation too much.

“Quelala wants me because he thinks I can give him what he wants.”

“And what is that? Your body, your soul, your heart perhaps?”

“No, he wants to rule all the realms, and I have the boots on my feet already, and I’m young, and supple, without a single ashy or dry patch of skin on my body. Then there’s you, the witch he is long tired of who’s as old as the hills and a dusty, scraggly mess of a hag who can’t inspire a single person, living or dead, to follow her without compulsion. No charisma—that’s another one of your many issues. I think I might almost feel sorry for you. You’re just so stupid and pathetic. It’s hard not to pity you.”

“Oh, my dear, you are adorable. The Axeman’s interest in you makes sense now. Funny, I tried to turn your Axeman many times strictly for the purpose of making him my lover. Too bad I had to have him killed. He would have been quite something. Tell me, was he all they say he was?”

I want to kill her so bad I could burst. An all-penetrating desire to destroy her brings tears to my eyes, but my body won’t let me do a damn thing about it.

“He would have rather died than have come within ten paces of your dried up dusty old snatch, monstrous hag,” I say as I pound her pillows, the dust from her dead skin flying about me.

This upsets her, her eyes narrowing at me. Guess I hit a soft spot. If I can just get her to attack me, I can fight back. That’s one thing I’ve learned.

“Just like with Quelala, you’re not Nick’s type. He prefers beautiful women with parts that aren’t dried-up raisins. Beauty and moisture are not your strong suits,” I say, and she seethes.

“Perhaps I shall put you in a dark dungeon and leave you there until you die. Five days have passed now. No food or water. All your tireless work. It is only a matter of time, my dear,” she says, satisfied with herself.

What she doesn’t know is I drank water—found a bucket of clean water in the kitchen while I was scrubbing and my armor allowed me to grab it to drink from for a moment. My armor seems to allow me to do what I must do to survive, including defend myself.

“Perhaps,” I shrug as if I don’t care at all, and I don’t.

Although I want to kill her for revenge, and for the good of the realm, I cannot help but wonder what the point is. I wanted to get back to Kansas, but I don’t foresee that happening, and I don’t want to be here without Nick or Toto. Maybe if I survived, I could find Ardie, maybe even Toto, if he’s still alive somehow, but I can’t help but think maybe I am meant to die too. The three human beings I’ve loved most in this life have died. If there’s an afterlife, I wouldn’t mind being there with them. But if I can help people, if I can fight back and rid this realm of this evil, I will. And Werelion needs my help. He’s so close by, maybe I can save him if I can save myself. From there, I just don’t care what happens to me. Not even a little. But if I can help Werelion, I will. I wonder why she didn’t kill Werelion like she did the others.

“Why didn’t you kill the Werelion? Want to have sex with him too?” I say and she laughs.

“He is being broken to serve me, as are you,” she says satisfied with herself. I hate her.

“Your smell is repugnant,” I say, and she narrows her eyes at me, and wow, she really stinks. “Horrendous. Ugh. It’s like my dog’s breath after he licks his own butt. You frigging stink. No wonder Quelala’s ready to move on. That’s a rank stench that sticks to everything you come into contact with. Cheese Louise,” I say and gag a little.

“To the dungeon with you!” she roars and the Winkie slaves around the room herd me out. My body walks without my control, as do theirs, and I carry my bucket of water and brush with me.

When I am thrown behind a gate and locked in, my body immediately scrubs. All night and day I scrub, but this place is impossible to get clean—this is torture. As it was, I hated cleaning, but this… No, I will never clean again. If I ever get out of here, I will hire a maid to do this for me. This week I have cleaned enough to last me a lifetime.

I won’t live to hire a cleaning lady though, or get a job, an apartment, none of it. How will I? My best hope is to have her attack me so I can fight back or she can kill me. That I can do by irritating her as best as I can. That I can do by insulting her. Otherwise, I’ll die here without food or water in these dungeons. I should tell the Winkie guard to tell her I’ll give her the boots and I have information about an attack from Oz or something.

“Hey, Winkie,” I call to the guard who stands at the door.

“Ya?” he asks with an accent that sounds German or Swedish or something.

“Tell that necrotic stench of a Vampire Witch I’ve learned my lesson and I have some information about an attack from the Wizard. If she lets me out, I’ll tell it to her.”

“Oh, I cannot speak to her for she will feed on me.”

“Tell a vampire—they’ll want to get in good with her.”

“Oh, no, they will feed on me!”

“Tell one of her ladies then. The Winkies that attend to her. They are living and must have some kind of in with her,” I say, and he thinks it over.

“I will,” he says.

“Or you could just let me out,” I say.

“But they will kill me.”

“You can say I escaped.”

“Either way, they will kill me,” he says, and I sigh as I scrub the floor beside him. “But I have no control over my body, the same as you. Even if I wanted to, I could not. All I can do is hope I pass one of her ladies to give her your message. That is the best I can promise you.”

I am on the verge of breaking, and I know that is her goal, but I will never bend to her will. Except I’ll die if this keeps up. I’m starving—my stomach grumbles every second and I am in pain from severe hunger and constant work—and I must be so thin already. If I didn’t have that water, I would be dead by now.

Six days and nights have passed and still all I can think about is my multitude of regrets—I regret never having done the things I dreamed of, never traveling to the places in my realm I dreamed of going, never graduating high school. But at least I fell in love. That’s something, even if my biggest regret of all is allowing pride to hold me back from telling him how I felt, and I will miss him for the rest of my very short existence.

When I think of him, how beautiful he was, his perfect face, his perfect lips, his even more perfect body, I know I loved him. I even love him for how he’d get angry when I’d fight alongside him because he wanted me to stay safe. Him holding me, kissing me, touching me—that is what I miss most. Those were the best feelings I have ever felt. Even though we started out wrong, looking back it’s kinda cute he told me such a ridiculous lie to get me to make out with him. Even though he’s gone, my feelings for him are desperate still, but at least I got to fall in love once in my life.

I miss Toto too, so much, and as I have been for the past six days, I pray he is safe somewhere. And I pray for Ardie again and give thanks for how paternal and protective he was of me. And I pray for the Werelion again, hoping he is not too afraid or injured as they try to break him to serve her, praying he finds the courage he sought inside him somewhere to make it through.

“Do you know of my friend Werelion by any chance?” I ask the Winkie guard.

“There was a Werelion brought into the werebeast pen who is making quite a ruckus from what I understand. Vicious roars ring through the courtyard at all hours since he arrived. Anyone who dares go near him loses their life. He has taken out many of the vampires. All the Winkies are talking about it.”

“He is?” I say, so surprised and so proud—he’s getting braver.

“Yes. Like you, he is being starved out. The Vampire Witch is hoping to break him that way.”

“Of course,” I sigh, so worried about him.

“Her control spells do not work the same on the werebeasts, so she must break them like animals,” he tells me.

“At least that’s something,” I sigh. “Is it possible to get food to him?”

“No, I cannot for I do not move from this spot except to sleep. I go straight to the guard quarters and get right into my bunk. If I pass one of her maidens, I can relay the message. That is the best I can do for you. I am sorry.”

A sad sigh leaves me as I see how hopeless it all is. I wish Nick were here. He’d know how to fix things I’d bet. Visions of him holding me and comforting me fill my thoughts, playing in my mind’s eye, and I cry myself to sleep as I scrub the iron bars of the dungeon.

A ruckus wakes me up to find my body still scrubbing and the Winkie guard still posted at the lock of the dungeon I am in.

“What is this?” the Winkie Guard says alarmed and I hear barking. It’s my Toto!

“Toto!” I say as he runs to the cell gate and barks again and again. He must have sniffed me out. “Toto, shh! They’ll find you! Hide or she’ll turn you into something awful, or kill you, or drink your blood. Go! Run, Toto! Run!” I say to him in an alarmed whisper, but he continues to howl.

When I see Ardie dressed in a Vampire Soldier’s leather uniform rush in with the Werelion behind him, I cry with gratitude that they are here and alive. Even though Werelion looks tired and thin, like me, the fierce look in his eyes surprises me.

“You came for me,” I say so grateful, but I have this spell on me and I’m still cleaning furiously, as I have been for days.

“Dorothy, stop! Why are you scrubbing?” Ardie asks me confused.

“It’s a spell—I have been like this since I got here—it’s never ending. Even in my sleep, I scrub. I’ve scrubbed the entire castle,” I say, so tired, my body vigorously scrubbing.

An even louder ruckus comes from the passageway leading to the dungeons—they’re coming.

“Hide! Take Toto and hide. Please, I can hear them coming for you!”

When Nick comes rushing in, my heart stops with my breath. Sobs rack my body as tears burst from my eyes, and I bawl at the sight of him, thanking God he isn’t dead. How? How is it possible he’s alive?

“You’re not dead,” I croak out through my tears, and he rushes over to the door of the dungeon and chops the lock off with his axe.

“She’s under a spell. She can’t stop cleaning,” the Werelion explains when Nick throws open the cell door, takes the scrub brush from my hands, and tosses it on the floor before he takes me into his arms and kisses me with so much passion my heart feels as though it bursts in my chest. With everything I’ve got, all the love in my heart, I kiss him back.

I love him, so much, and I don’t want to wait another second to tell him. At any moment, we could die here, and it’s a regret I do not want to have.

“I love you, and I don’t care if you don’t feel the same. Just, please, I need you to know that I do. I love you, Nick, with my entire soul and all my heart,” I tell him, tears in my eyes and he smiles at me.

“Dorothy—”

“Ah! How convenient! You have incarcerated yourselves. Now I won’t have to have you all dragged up here,” the Vampire Witch says as she enters, her bony white fingers twiddling with glee.

Nick turns and stands in front of me, his axes drawn.

“Axeman, how lovely to see you. You are even more exquisite than I had hoped. I will enjoy adding you to my collection,” the Vampire Witch says to him, and with a wave of her hand she pulls him to her, his feet dragging as she draws him forward with an invisible force.

Ugh, I despise her! Never will I ever allow her to hurt him. I try to command a stake to shoot forth from my fist but it doesn’t. Nothing I do seems to make any difference.

I think about what the Wizard said about what I needed to win, to beat her, and I still have no clue what that is. The only thing that has worked consistently is praying to some force outside myself that gives me rainbow magic, begging for help, but since she took over my body, that rainbow magic has taken a vacation, and I do not know what to do.

All I have is this scrub brush and this bucket of dirty, sudsy water, so I try one last time to pray as fast as I can to the rainbow magic giver, to the universe, and the powers that made the realms to cleanse this water, make it holy, and then, in an act of desperation I speak the only prayer I remember my father say that I think has something to do with water. My dad was Jewish, and although he wasn’t religious in a traditional sense, he prayed sometimes before or after he ate something specific or if he saw a person who looked interesting or different—he’d thank the powers above for creating such unique and colorful individuals. I don’t know what the prayer means because it’s in Hebrew, but I say it anyway and hope to God it helps.

As I whisper the words, my armor moves away from my hands and I plunge them into the bucket. Like a miracle, I regain control of my body, but it looks like it’s too late because she is about to sink her teeth into Nick’s neck and I don’t have time to do anything but toss the bucket at her and hope it startles her enough to jump back. So I pick up the bucket of water and douse her in it. She gasps a scream, stunned, then she gives a loud, screeching cry as steam rises from her skin before it bubbles and fizzles, disintegrating away.

“What have you done?” she screams at me in her shrill voice.

“You needed a bath!”

“First you kill my sister to steal her boots! Now you melt me to steal my castle and my cap and my love! You are a very wicked witch! A very wicked, wicked witch! Wicked! Wicked!” she shouts in shrill screeches as she melts, crying and screaming to her very disgusting death.

Nick regains control of his body and the Winkie Guard does too, shaking his head and moving around on his own. He laughs with joy as the Vampire Witch completes her fall into a brown, melted, shapeless mass that spreads over the clean boards of the dungeon floor.

The Winkie Guard, now free, says, “The Vampire Witch of the West has ended. We are no longer prisoners. Thank you, Dorothy! Thank you!”

22

The Liberation of the Winkie Slaves

With the help of the Winkie Guard, Nick calls all the Winkies in the castle together in the courtyard to announce they are no longer slaves. Since my friends killed most of the Vampire Soldiers, the remaining Vampires fled when I melted the Vampire Witch.

“Hello Winkies of Winkie Land,” he says standing at the top of the steps to the palace, and they all wave to him. He smiles and waves back.

Golden bloodstained outfits adorn their drained, pale, tired bodies, and I know just how they feel, although they have been under Ezdalina’s spell for who knows how long, and I’ve only been here a week.

“We have broken the spell enslaving you to the Vampire Witch. Across all of Winkie Land you are free. The Vampire Witch is dead!” he says and they all cheer and rejoice.

“What about the soldiers?” one of the Winkies asks.

“Those who remain alive fled Winkie Land,” Nick tells them when another Winkie steps forward.

“The Axeman slayed at least forty himself while the Zombie and the Werelion slayed as many between them. The others were so afraid they ran from the castle and flew out of Winkie Land! With my own eyes, I saw it!” the Winkie says.

“As did I!” shouts another.

“As did I!” shouts another, and another, when the Winkies cheer in happiness.

“On this day of your liberation, I declare that Winkie Land is and will always be a Vampire Free Zone!” Nick announces. Another set of loud cheers burst from the crowd, and it quickly turns into a party with dancing and music, and I just don’t have it in me to go to a party right now.

When Nick turns and kisses me, I throw my arms around him and kiss him back, but I have no strength.

“Time for you to eat and sleep,” he says.

“Yeah, I’m spent.”

“Come,” he says and leads me back into the castle.

The Winkies prepare a grand room with fresh linens then draw me a bath and dress me in clean clothes afterward. Nick brings my food to my chamber and takes off his armor.

“How are you alive?”

“The man who made the armor prepared it for such things. Vampires fly, so the silversmith who fashioned it, a man named Ku-Klip, added elements that lessen the impact of a fall from great heights. Also, I landed in the great river below. Although I am bruised, it’s nothing too painful. Lost a few axes in the river though, but I will replace them. All I have done for the last week is climb mountains to get to you. First, I found Ardie, or Toto found me. Toto found Ardie first and when they were on their way to you, we came together. Toto led us right to you. He is quite an animal.”

“Yeah, he is,” I say getting emotional thinking of him, and as I do, he comes right over to me. Since we reunited, he doesn’t want to leave my side, and I don’t want him to either. When I kneel and hug him tight, he licks my cheek, and I kiss his nose as he cuddles into me.

“Dorothy, I was so worried, unable to sleep a wink knowing you were here and in danger. Let us go to bed,” he says. “First though, you must eat something,” he says handing me a plate of food prepared by the Winkies of roast turkey, potatoes, vegetables, and a roll with butter.

Without having eaten for so long, I make it a point to eat slow even though I want to just swallow my plate with everything on it. Nick watches me the entire time, having already eaten himself while I was bathing. After I eat, we get into bed and Toto curls up on the floor at my side. A fire burns to keep us warm, and as we lay there looking at each other, gratitude he isn’t dead overwhelms me and tears well in my eyes. A sad, pained expression claims his beautiful face, and I know it’s because I confessed feelings he does not return.

“Oh Nick, I am so happy you are alive—I was a wreck thinking you were dead.”

“The entire time we were apart, all I did was worry they had turned you,” he says, with a harrowed sigh.

“If it weren’t for these boots, I’d either be a vampire or dead. Although the boots wouldn’t let me attack her and I think it’s because they belonged to her sister. All I could do was defend myself, nothing more,” I tell him.

“Thank the realms you are alive.”

“Ditto.”

“Dorothy… about what you said—”

“Look, I don’t want you to feel obligated or concerned or anything. When I thought you were dead, I regretted not telling you so much because I wanted you to know that someone loved you, that I was in love with you, but I know you don’t have the same feelings. Before I was afraid to tell you because of that, but I regretted allowing my pride to stop me from telling you the truth because I want you to know how wonderful I think you are. There is no one more wonderful than you to me. Everything about you I love. Even when you’re annoying, I love you,” I say and he chuckles.

“Corny, I know, but it’s true. I love you and the way you protect me and care for me, even when it gets on my nerves. But please know I expect nothing at all. The only reason I told you is that I know you see yourself as heartless because of all the murdering night creatures you have to do, but I don’t see you that way.

“When I look at you I see the person I admire most, the person I like more than any other person in existence. Yes, I am also more attracted to you than I have ever been to anyone. There’s no denying how gorgeous you are, but I would love you like this no matter what you looked like. For some reason, I need you to know that. I really do love you in a way I’ve never experienced before. Like no matter what, even if you were a zombie or a shifter or even a vampire, I would love you the same.

“No, Dorothy, if I turn into any of those things, promise me you’ll kill me. Do not hesitate.”

“No, I can’t make that promise.”

“Please, Dorothy, I need you to. If I turn into a vampire, I do not want to continue. Once I lose my soul, I won’t be me anymore.”

“Fine, if you turn into a vampire, but not if you turn into a zombie or a shifter. That’s over the top.”

“You say you love me—”

“Oh, I do, and I know you don’t reciprocate my feelings, and I’m all right with that. Now that you know how I feel, no matter what happens, you’ll know someone fell head over heels in love with you once, wanted to spend as much time with you as they could for as long as you’d let them, and that they loved everything about you. That’s all. Please, don’t shy away from me if I’ve made you uncomfortable. Things don’t have to change.”

“As long as vampires exist, you will not be safe here in Oz. Evil night creatures are a pestilence that infest this realm. Not all zombies and werebeasts are as good and kind as Ardie and the Werelion. Not all are bad, but many are. Even good people cannot control themselves when they take the spice.

“You take a chance when you take the spice or when you enter the company of a zombie. One bite, one drop of their black blood, and it spreads in minutes. One moment of weakened resolve and they rip out your throat and feast on your brains.

“The same happens with shifters. They drink the tincture and their imprint appears. Then when they shift for the first time, they either go wild or remain civilized, but it’s always a gamble.

“If I am bitten by a shifter or a zombie or a vampire, it’s not worth the risk to your safety not to kill me, and I know if the time comes, you will do the right thing. Just as you will do the right thing and return to Kansas because your realm is safe for you. Promise me you will return to your realm.”

“There’s no place for me here, I know, and I know that I have to go back, that I need to tell my aunt and uncle I’m alive, and I know you have plans for your life that I don’t fit into,” I say as tears fill my eyes, “but I will miss you, always, for the rest of my life.”

He pulls me to him and hugs me tight and I hug him back, so happy he’s alive and so sad I will leave him soon. Now that we’ve killed the Vampire Witch, I will return to Kansas, he will live in Emerald City and start a new life. Ardie will get his cure and the Werelion, his courage.

“Dorothy, I love you,” he says, and I want him to mean he is in love with me, but that is not what he means. The way he means it is as a best friend. “With everything I am, I love you. That is why you must promise me you will go back to Kansas. Because I would rather lose you forever and know you are safe than have you stay here with me and be at risk.”

“With you? Do you mean that you love me, like as a close friend, or that you love me the way I love you?”

“Dorothy, I am in love with you. If I could make you my wife, be that selfish, I would, but I love you far too much to do that. Even though we feel this way for each other, you must keep your promise and return to Kansas,” he says as my heart bursts in my chest.

“Wait, you love me too?” I repeat, and he laughs.

“Yes, Dorothy, you know I do,” he says with a sweet smile.

“Come with me,” I blurt and he sighs.

“Remember, I do not exist in your realm,” he reminds me, and it’s true—he has no social security number, no school transcripts, no existence on record. He couldn’t get a legal job, it would be hellish for him to survive there, and I have no money at all. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry wouldn’t let me live with a boy in my room either.

“What if I moved out, left home? If we got an apartment somewhere, all I’d have to do is get a GED, a job, and support us both until you could take the identity of a dead person and become them. I’ve seen it in movies,” I say, and he smiles.

“Do you know how many years I have spent fighting day and night to avoid turning into a living dead person?”

“Or I could stay,” I mutter, knowing he’ll say no.

“No, you cannot. How much could I love you if I were to allow you to make such a sacrifice when you can have a life in a realm free of monsters? In your realm, you can fulfill your dreams. Travel to colorful places. Do not settle for Billy. Someday you will find a man worthy of you, one who loves you as much as I do. I know you will, Dorothy, because not only are you exquisitely beautiful, but you are the most remarkable woman I have ever known,” he says, tears filling his eyes and I kiss him with all the desperation and love in my heart.

As he kisses me back, it feels as though my heart is breaking and filling up all at once—I am in love for the first time in my life, and I am so grateful he is alive, and that he loves me back—that means everything to me. Even though I know I can’t, I want to stay here and be with him more than I want safety or any of the dreams I once had.

I know I’m too young to make life decisions based on these sorts of feelings. If this were the civilized realm, it wouldn’t even occur to me to think about a forever kind of love, no matter how in love I was, but sometimes an opportunity presents itself and you can either snatch it up or let it pass you by and wonder what it might have been if you’d taken a different path. This feels like one of those things. Now that I’ve been here, felt magic and power, seen a world of colors I’ve coveted for so long, it’s hard for me not to feel like maybe I do belong here. Maybe I’m meant to stay.

What he wants for me is far more practical. I’m only seventeen, he’s only nineteen, and we will both move on someday. That’s how it works, right? Your first love is almost never your last. If I stay though, it could be my last because we could die at any moment with vampires and zombies and werebeasts everywhere.

What Nick wants is what’s best for me, and I want what’s best for him. The way he is, he wouldn’t like my realm, having to rely on me, and for me to think I can live under constant threat of vampire and zombie attacks is not practical at all. Nick and I are from two different worlds, so even though I love him, even though we will be realms apart, it will end soon. And if I never love again, I will be okay because I am pretty sure I will always love him and carry him in my heart forever.

We fall asleep entangled in each other and I rest so well. I needed to sleep like I never have, and I sleep, and sleep more, only waking to eat and bathe, but more than anything else, I sleep for three days straight, and Werelion did the same.

When Nick comes in to sleep beside me after being out all day, he tells me how he’s been helping the Winkies train to protect themselves from returning vampires, and they want him to return and run the castle, build an army, and help them protect Winkie Land. I want him to go to Emerald City and stop fighting, but he doesn’t believe Emerald City will remain vampire free for long now that the Vampire Witches are dead. There is no treaty to honor any longer, which means the vampires will be there any day now to feed.

Throughout the realm, it will be a free for all, and now that Quelala will take the place of the Vampire Witches in ruling over them, they will be ruthless. If he believed Emerald City would remain vampire free, he would ask me to marry him, but he knows it won’t, and they have no army to protect their borders. Only a single old zombie to guard the gate and a few guards at the palace. When I return to Kansas, he will return to Winkie Land, where his mother was from, and live here at the palace. Distant relatives still live here, and if he lives here, he won’t be alone.

Even though I hate it, I want him to find someone just like he does me, and these Winkie girls are better suited to him, looking more like normal humans than the population of Emerald City. Winkie Land is right on the beach where glittering golden sands line a clear blue ocean while tall, tropical fruit-bearing trees sway in the warm breeze. This part of Oz is the most beautiful place I have ever been, including Emerald City.

Winkie City is not monochrome. Yes, it’s very gold, but it’s also white, and vivid aqua, and green, and blue—it’s gorgeous here—and the palace is sparkling and beautiful since I scrubbed all the bloodstains out of almost everything including the dungeon. Now, the palace radiates shining golden light—it’s lavish and luxurious here.

If anyone deserves a little luxury, it’s Nick—he gives everything he’s got in a relentless battle against evil and asks for nothing in return—he deserves all the best things this realm has to offer and more.

“What is going through your mind, my love?” Nick asks me as we walk through a garden of golden yellow flowers on the palace grounds holding hands.

“I’m thinking of you making a life here when I’m gone—you deserve to live in such a wonderful place—and I think it’s better for you than Emerald City.”

“What has made you change your mind?”

“I was thinking about you falling in love. It’s hard to fall in love with someone with those goggles everyone wears. You can’t look into their eyes,” I say, and he chuckles.

“Dorothy, I am already in love.”

“When I’m gone.”

“I do not foresee myself falling in love again. Why would I want to? You are my love, and you always will be,” he says, and it makes me happy and sad all at once.

“Even though I feel the same way, just as you want me to find someone, I want the same for you. I do not want you to be alone.”

“In this land, I have a family, and it’s not as if I will have no female companionship again,” he smirks.

“Ah, you just plan on sleeping with lots of women and never falling in love with any of them?” I ask with a knowing raised brow.

“That is the plan,” he says with a sly smile and I laugh at him.

“Ugh, I hate the thought of that,” I admit. The thought of him with other women is a thought I despise, but I also hate the thought of him loving anyone else.

“I know just how you feel because I feel the same about you.”

“Don’t make me leave,” I beg.

“You must. You promised me.”

“I love you though, and I can’t imagine ever wanting to be with anyone but you ever again.” I won’t be.

“Just be happy, Dorothy. Go and live a wonderful life doing all the things you dream of, and someday you will find a man worthy of you.”

“No one is more worthy than you.”

“Oh, but I am not because I am from a realm that is unsafe. If it were safe though, I would never let you go.”

Every dream I ever had before I came here seems like nothing compared to the dream of living a life with him in it, maybe even having a family with him someday. How I wish he would let me, but I get it, and he’s right about everything.

“The Winkies made the day you killed the witch a holiday.”

“No kidding,” I say, surprised and honored I had a hand in a holiday of an entire land.

“Yes, they are calling it Liberation Day.”

“Cool,” I say, and he smiles before he lets out a light laugh.

“Since I am not a sorcerer or a wizard, they want to call me King.”

“King Nick. That’s very cool,” I say with a giggle.

If I stayed, I would be his queen. It would be awesome to be a queen, but I shouldn’t fantasize about that considering there’s no chance he’ll forgive me if I stay.

“I feel ridiculous about it,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Why?”

“I am no King,” he snorts.

“What would you rather be? A Prince?”

“Prince Nick is ridiculous too. How about just Nick?”

“If you are going to be the guy in charge, they need a title to differentiate you from the other Nicks.”

“For anyone to call me such a title is ludicrous. Royalty? Me?”

“How about Prime Minister?”

“That sounds even more ridiculous. Prime Minister? What does Prime mean? And what is Minister? I do not know what those words even mean.”

“Neither do I,” I shrug, “but they have them in my realm running governments of some countries.”

“What an odd name. How about in your country? What do they have? Since there are no wizards or witches to rule a land.”

“In my realm, we have kings and queens too, and prime ministers, but in my country, we have a president and a vice president.”

“Mmm, I dislike this title too.”

“Well, I like King. It suits you.”

“Does it?” he scoffs.

“Yes, it does. You’ll make a great king.”

“There are kings in other countries in the realm but they descend from a long line of other kings and queens. Or most of them do.”

“Which ones?”

“There is Ev—they have a king and a royal family. Jinxland also has a king. Pingaree has a king and a royal family. Oz even has a princess. Long ago, Oz had a king—King Pastoria—and he had a daughter, Princess Ozma. The Zombie Witch Mombi took her, and she has not returned for hundreds of years. The legend is Ozma is still in existence, trapped by the Zombie Witch. If she were still around though, she would be the rightful ruler of Oz.”

“Wow,” I say, still so thrown by all the monster stuff even after all that has happened.

“They say the Zombie Witch Mombi is the first to take the spice that gives one immortality, making the partaker undead. But as Ardie has told you, being undead has its downfalls.”

“Yeah, like never sleeping and a relentless hunger for brains,” I scoff.

“Correct.”

“Gross—I would hate to be a zombie. Ardie must be so excited to be getting his cure.”

“Speaking of which, we must return to Emerald City now that you and Werelion have recuperated, and we must bring proof that we have killed the Vampire Witch so there is no question he grants you your promise.”

“Are you still coming along? Now that you won’t be living there?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“Well, I don’t know. You don’t have to come anymore—”

“Yes, I am coming. I would not let you go without me.”

“Perhaps then I won’t go at all.”

“Dorothy, you promised.”

“But I want to stay. Why collect my promise now? I can collect it any time, can’t I?” I say, and he sighs, distraught.

“You know I want you here, but I love you too much to keep you here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to leave,” I tell him, and he hugs me. I hug him back, my head to his chest, listening to the heart he said wasn’t there.

“You must. It is what’s best for you. And you will always be my queen in my heart. Know that.”

“I thought you didn’t have a heart.”

“I only found it when I met you. You are my heart, Dorothy, and when you go back to Kansas, you take it with you,” he says, and it makes me so sad tears fill my eyes as he holds me in his arms. Even though he is teary too, he smiles anyway.

We gaze into each other, and I memorize every part of his face, every curve, every fleck of color in his eyes. There is no doubt in my mind and in my heart that he loves me, and that I feel the same way. When I return to Kansas, I will leave my heart here with him too—it will always be his.

“Shall we go to the festival? It would be my honor if you would accompany me,” he asks with that swoon worthy smile.

“Festival?”

“Yes, they are having a festival in Winkie City to celebrate their liberation since the Vampire Witch died. They have asked me to attend the final parade,” he tells me.

“Then we should go,” I say, excited for him, and to be his date.

As I wipe away my tears, we walk inside the gilded castle that shines in the daylight. This is where he belongs—it almost matches his beauty—and he deserves such a wonderful position in such a wonderful place ruling over such a wonderful group of people. We go up to our grand room to get ready and a group of lovely ladies come in to dress me. They do my hair in soft curls and gold barrettes covered in diamonds and dress me in a golden gown. Nick wears a regal gold suit with diamond and gold buttons, and we join Ardie and Werelion who are both dressed in dashing gold suits, and the four of us with Toto take a golden carriage drawn by strapping Palomino horse shifters with golden blonde hair to Winkie City to see the parade.

When we arrive at the parade in our shifter drawn carriage, we climb out onto a dais where golden thrones await us. The surrounding Winkies wave to us in their Winkie way, so we wave back, and the many gilded floats go by carrying Winkies from the palace, freed from enslavement. As they pass, they wave to their fellow Winkies with joy from their newfound liberation. Once all the floats go by, everyone gathers around us, and an older gentleman comes forward.

“This is my uncle, Menno,” Nick tells me, and I am so happy to get to meet his family. We say hello and then he turns and addresses the crowd.

“To my nephew, Nick Chopper, Emperor of Winkie, the Golden Land of the West, and the son of my dear departed sister, Minna, I bestow upon you a mighty panoply fit for a king,” Menno says and the crowd cheers as he presents Nick with an enhanced suit of armor.

Trimmed and plated with gold throughout, the axes’ blades are a shining polished steel and the once wooden handles are now gold. When he wears it, he will look like a king.

“For the Good Zombie Millard, I bestow a Royal Winkie Walking Stick as a symbol of your travels to our land to liberate our people alongside our Emperor. We will be forever grateful,” he says handing Ardie a gold and canary diamond staff that will help him not drag his feet so much anymore, at least until he gets his cure from the Wizard.

Next, he presents gold and diamond collars to the Werelion and Toto. Then it’s my turn.

“And to Dorothy Gale, the Vampire Witch Slayer, we present to you the Hallowed Circlet, an ancient relic of our people said to bring protection to the wearer wherever she may go throughout all the realms,” he says and puts a beautiful gold bracelet filled with stunning diamonds on my wrist. My eyes widen at the sight of it. “The Good Queen Orinda ruled over the Golden Land of the West for three hundred years wearing this charm. We wish the same long life for you,” he says, and I feel like I shouldn’t accept this. I turn to Nick and he smiles at me.

“You cannot refuse it,” he whispers in my ear, and I realize he is right.

“Thank you, so much—I will cherish it always—and when I look upon it, I will remember the years of enslavement and oppression your people endured, and that now you are free,” I say and they all cheer when Nick stands.

“Thank you all for these wonderful honors. As many of you know we must travel to see the Wizard of Oz, but I will return to you as I have promised,” he says and they all cheer, “When I do, we will begin the reconstruction so that never again will evil forces oppress the Golden Land of the West!” he says and they all roar their cheers, overwhelming my ears. Pride swells within me. If anyone can do it, he can.

Nick shakes so many hands I’m sure his arms ache. Once he’s done, we return to the castle and I go to the Vampire Witch’s bedroom to find evidence that we have killed her to present to the Wizard. When I look around the room, I see nothing. I go to the armoire and open it to find a Golden Cap just like the white one the Slayer Witch of the North wore. It’s shining gold and trimmed with diamonds. As I place it on my head and look in the mirror, I realize it could get stuck on me like the shoes, so I take it off straightaway. It comes off just fine, thank goodness. I’m sure this is something witch-like, it being so ornate and very much like the one the Gayelette had, so I keep it to take with us.

Attendants pack for our journey, giving us the night to relax. Nick and I have a beautiful candlelight dinner while Toto, Ardie, and Werelion go on a hunt. We take a walk through the gardens of the palace and then go to bed early. But when we are falling into sleep, I remember we will part forever soon enough, so I get depressed and fall asleep with a heavy heart.

When I wake up cradled in Nick’s arms, in a comfortable bed, I wonder if this is the last time I will experience this. We will travel in rough terrains, sleeping in tents, and when we arrive in Emerald City, I could go back to Kansas straightaway upon speaking to the Wizard for all I know. This could be the very last time we share a real bed.

Why did I promise him I would leave? Part of me wonders if he doesn’t want to be with me. But if he didn’t, he would stay here and not return to Emerald City at all. It feels like he loves me. I suppose I wish he loved me a little less, so he wouldn’t hold me to my promise to return to Kansas and let me stay here with him.

“What are you thinking of, my love? You look worried,” Nick says.

He is holding me, looking at me, examining me. I thought he was still asleep.

“You want the truth?”

“Yes,” he says with a light laugh.

“That I wish you loved me a little less,” I admit.

“What?”

“In a more selfish way. I want to stay. I don’t want to keep my promise to you to return to Kansas,” I tell him, and he sighs with distress. “I’ll go, but I don’t want to.”

“Winkie Land will not stay safe. Now it appears safe, but it will not last. The vampires will come back to take the castle. Quelala fled before I could get to him. He will take her place, and I am sure he is organizing forces now. They will try to take Emerald City and Winkie Land and then they will move on to the next country and the next. It is not over just because the Vampire Witches are dead.

“Winkie Land needs security. It will be a massive feat to accomplish. They are a peaceful people who need training to fight. Construction of a wall at the borders will not be enough. I wish we had the technology your realm possesses. Perhaps then we could stop them from flying over our walls. But we do not. We have nothing of the sort except some mechanical things, and magic, but nothing like what you have described to me. We are all only humans here now—no one is a witch or a sorcerer. The most magical being here is you and you are a living person with enchanted footwear,” he says, and I laugh. Munchkin Land is not safe either. I am sure they are there now, turning as many as possible for their attack on all the lands.

“But you may return to your realm and leave all this behind forever. If I could go with you, I would, but these people need me. I can help them learn to fight, to protect themselves and their land. I must see it through, and I cannot have you here risking yourself.”

“But I want to risk myself. I want to do it with you, by your side,” I tell him, beg him.

“Dorothy, I will not live much longer.”

“What? Why do you say that?” I ask him alarmed.

“Vampires will come in droves to take over Winkie Land, and I will be the first one they try to kill. They will have to kill the leader to enslave the people. That leader is me now, but I will fight them to the death, my death. I will be very lucky to survive.”

“So then come with me! All this gold? Gold is worth a lot in my realm. Gold, jewels, silver even! We can take it back with us and live well, so well. Neither of us would ever have to work if we had enough of this stuff to sell.”

That’s it! That’s the answer. We bring back some of this gold and some emeralds, as much as we can carry, and live a life of luxury anywhere in the world we want. All we’d need is to meet some criminal who could get us a false identity, or figure out a way to take a dead person’s identity ourselves. Maybe we could pretend he has amnesia, and I found him somewhere and he didn’t know who he was. Maybe then he’d get some John Doe identity and could live in my world.

“Am I to leave all these people with no defense? I also have promised them I would return to help them secure this land, or at least attempt to. I can teach them how to fight, defend themselves, so they stand a chance after I am gone.”

“So, you’re just going to stay here and wait for them to come and try to take over and kill you?”

“What choice do I have?”

“You can come with me!” I say exasperated.

“What honorable choice do I have?” he rephrases, and I groan. “If I am to die, would you still want to live here, or in your realm?” he asks, and I think it over and I wouldn’t want to be here without him.

“I’d want to be in mine, but only because of the vampires. And I don’t want to live without you at all,” I return.

“I know, Dorothy, but I need you to live, and be safe, fulfill your dreams. You promised me and I promised them.”

“I hate this,” I admit, and he hugs me to him. I hug him back.

“As do I, but it’s the reality of this realm, and our lives. If there were a way for us to be together and for you to be safe…” he says and stops. He’s getting emotional, I can tell, but he suppresses it. “You know I would do anything I could to be with you and help these people, but that’s not reality. That’s a dream. But know, Dorothy, you are my love. You always will be. I will love you for as long as I live, but I fear that may not be too long,” he says.

“There’s got to be another way.”

“If there’s a way for us to be together, I will see it, and I promise you, I will not let you go. But there’s not. You must return to Kansas,” he says with resolve and I sigh, frustrated. “Now let us get up, have a nice breakfast and go. It is a long journey to the Emerald City.”

When I get up and out of bed, the attendants come in to help us get ready. I’ll miss being bathed and groomed. I will never have this in my realm. Even the richest people don’t do this anymore. Not daily anyway. Maybe if I win the lottery, I’ll hire people to scrub me down and do me up every day.

The girls who attend to me dress me in another pair of pants with gold buttons up the legs. Just like Jellia, they made them for me, but they also made me blouses, bras and panties, and a few more pairs of the side button pants in varying fabrics and shades of gold but every article of clothing had gold clasps and buttons.

Once I’m dressed, packed, and ready to go, I meet Nick, Ardie, Werelion, and Toto down on the patio for breakfast. We eat a hearty meal because we won’t have one for a while, then we get everything together to head out.

Nick wears his armor, now trimmed with gold and far more fancy looking. He looks like a king who has an affinity for axes on his way to lead an army to war. The rest of us look well put together, dressed in our gold clothes, and there’s no mistaking where we came from when we cross Winkie Land’s borders.

And so we are off, back to the City of Emeralds, across fields, mountains, without a road to guide us. We can only hope we make it there without too much struggle.

23

The Vampire Bat Monkeys

Days upon days of yellow bloomed meadows and yellow pumpkin patches and orchards of lemons and grapefruits and golden apples. Rotten human carcasses are aplenty, but not one vampire has crossed our path. Dead, decaying bodies hang from the trees as though they were dropped from above, or they lie strewn about the fields, their lifelessness discordant with the endless vivid yellows. The stench of death mixed with the fragrance of the flowers and rotting fruits is nauseating. That along with the sight of so many dead bodies causes me to lose my lunch more than once.

When we left, we knew to go straight east toward the rising sun, and we started off the right way, but at noon on that first day, when the sun was over our heads, we didn’t know which way was east and which way was west. And that is the reason we are still in these fields as we have been for days.

Even though we have no clue how to get where we’re going, we forge ahead. The moon shines so bright that every night it illuminates our path, so only when we can’t walk any longer do we set up our new tents to sleep amidst the endless sea of strong-smelling yellow flowers, and all of us except Ardie sleep until morning.

Some days are gloomy with the sun hiding behind the clouds, but each gloomy day that passes, we go on as if we are sure of which direction we’re going even though none of us are.

Day by day passes away and the flowers change from shades of yellow to shades of pink and red. We still see nothing before us but field after field, each filled with one type of red flower or another. First, we crossed a field of blood-red dahlias, followed by an ocean of crimson snapdragons. Scarlet tulips for miles in every direction came next, and this continued for days as we traversed one sea of red flowers after another. As we walk, we share our stories from our time apart, each of us with many harrowing tales to tell to fill the silences, and at night, Nick and I get closer and closer, and even more than before I do not want to leave. Although I couldn’t tell them, I am glad we have no clue how to get to Emerald—I don’t want to go yet.

Ardie is grumbling again, which means he’s about to lose it—he’s been ready to pop for days now.

“One of us needs to admit we have lost our way!” he snaps. “And unless we find it again in time to reach the Emerald City, I shall never get my cure for zombiism because I will self-immolate if I must spend another day in flowers! Flowers! Ugh! If I never see another flower again as long as I exist it will be too soon!” he shouts and trips over a rock, falling face first into a bed of carmine begonias. As I help him to his feet, he lets out a frustrated humph. Poor Ardie. With so many flowers hovering over the ground, he can’t see what’s before him. He already drags and falls more than the average living human, but out here he falls more in one day than he did our entire journey from Munchkin to Emerald.

“I don’t have the courage to keep trekking through fields of flowers forever, getting nowhere at all. Even if they are pretty,” Werelion says and whimpers.

With our group losing heart, I sit on a patch of grass because where are we rushing to anyhow? Toto wastes no time and lies down at my side, and for the first time in Toto’s life, he’s too tired to chase a butterfly that flies right past his head. Werelion does the same, sprawling out on the small hill. Nick sits behind me, wraps me in his arms, and I curl into him as Ardie plops down at my other side. Toto puts out his tongue and pants and looks at me as if to ask what we should do next.

“Suppose we call the Wererats,” I suggest. “They could tell us the way to the Emerald City.”

“They could!” cries Ardie. “Why didn’t we think of that before?”

“Beats me,” I say and turn to Nick who reluctantly takes out the little whistle he’s had around his neck since the Queen of the Wererats gave it to him, and he blows.

“Soon we’ll find out if she can hear us all the way out here—wherever here is,” I say.

After a while, we take out our lunches and eat, drink some water, and right before we are about to continue on in an endless trek through the lands of Oz, we hear the pattering of tiny feet.

“It’s them!” Ardie gasps, thrilled to find a way out of here or at least some directions.

Many small gray wererats run up to us. Among them is the Queen herself, who asks in her squeaky little voice, “What can I do for you, my friends?”

“We’ve lost our way,” I say. “Can you tell us where the City of Emeralds is? We could use some directions.”

“Yes,” the Queen says, “but it is a great way off, for you have had it at your backs all this time. This is Quadling Country.”

“The red flowers! How did I not see it?” Ardie says and groans as he smacks his forehead with the heel of his hand. “You know, there is some use to hunting birds for their brains. I could always see where I was from above thanks to their memories, but I have been eating sow brains we packed for the trip instead. Stupid!” Ardie says, admonishing himself.

“What is that there?” the Wererat Queen asks as she looks to my open bag and points to the Vampire Witch’s Golden Cap.

“The golden cap of the Witch of the West,” Nick tells her.

“That is what I thought. Why don’t you use the charm of the cap and call the Vampire Bat Monkeys to you? They will carry you to the City of Emeralds in no time.”

“There’s a charm in the cap?” I ask in surprise. “Where is it?”

“Inside the cap,” she says, “but if you will call the Vampire Bat Monkeys we must run, for they are predators of our kind.”

“Won’t they hurt us too? Bite us and turn us to vampires?” I ask. Isn’t it obvious why that’s a bad idea?

“Oh, no, they are not vampires the way the others are—they are Vampire Bat Monkeys. With them, it is their species rather than an epidemic,” she explains. “On them, it is not contagious, but they feed on the blood of rodents and wererodents alike, and we cannot be here when they arrive, or they will make us their lunch.”

“Thank you. I hope they can help us,” I say, and she smiles.

“They must obey the wearer of the cap, so when they arrive you may command them to do as you wish. The Slayer Witch of the North has made it so. You should tell them to fly you right to the Emerald City. You will be there in no time at all. We shall leave so you may call them. Goodbye, friends,” and she scampers out of sight with all the Wererats hurrying after her.

When I look inside the Golden Cap, I see some words written upon the lining. These must be the charm she spoke of.

“There are directions!” I exclaim, relieved. “Here goes.”

After reading the directions, I put the cap upon my head.

“Ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!” I shout, unsure if volume matters, as I stand on my left foot.

“What?” asks Nick, laughing at me.

“Hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!” I continue, standing this time on my right foot. “Ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!” I finish, now standing on both feet, and I take off the cap as Nick laughs.

“Right, well, I will not expect that to work,” Nick says when we hear chattering and flapping wings as the band of Vampire Bat Monkeys flies to us.

The Vampire Bat Monkeys land, their King at the front wearing armor and regalia across his chest and a crown of petrified wood atop his bat-monkey head. The King bows low before me, and asks, “What is your command?”

“We wish to go to the Emerald City,” I say, “and we have lost our way.”

“Fine, we will carry you,” says the King, and sweeps me off my feet in a blink.

Another Vampire Bat Monkey joins him, and they catch me up in their arms and fly away with me. The others take Nick, Ardie, and Werelion, while one seizes Toto and flies after us as Toto tries hard to bite him. The rest carry our bags, and soon we are high above Oz, speeding toward the end of our long journey. Red blooms blanket the ground for miles in every direction, the varying red shades from field to field creating an ombre effect, from the hottest coral-red to the darkest garnet.

As I take in the magnificent scene, I notice Werelion trembling, frightened—he must remember what the Vampire Bat Monkeys did to him before, but he sees soon enough that they’re not planning on hurting him. And Ardie seems relieved not to have to continue to trudge on for days upon days trying to find our way. I ride between two of the biggest Vampire Bat Monkeys, one of them the King himself. They have me sitting in a chair made of their hands and are careful not to hurt me, which I appreciate.

“Why do you have to obey the charm of the Golden Cap?” I ask, very curious how this works.

“That is a long story,” says the King, “but as we have a long journey before us, I will pass the time by telling you about it, if you wish.”

“I’d be glad to hear it.”

“Parts of this story I can tell you are true for I saw it happen with my own eyes, but other parts are not much more than chit-chat and tittle-tattle. I will tell you though, I believe every word,” he says and raises only one of his brows as his beady eye crinkles. Then his eyes gleam, like he’s about to tell me some juicy gossip, and it makes me smile.

“Once, we were living free in the great forest, flying from tree to tree, feeding on the forest animals and calling nobody master. Perhaps some of us were rather too full of mischief flying down to pull the tails of the animals for fun, chasing birds, and throwing nuts at the people who walked in the forest. We were careless and happy and full of fun and we enjoyed every minute of the day.

“Back then, there lived away at the North a beautiful queen who was also a powerful sorceress named Gayelette, and she lived in a handsome palace built from great diamonds. Almost everything a witch could want she had, and everyone loved her, but her greatest sorrow was that she could find no one to love.

“Since all the men were much too stupid and ugly to mate with one so beautiful and wise, she sought the great love of her life with a spell, but she soon found she did not have enough power to bring her love to her for he was very far away. So, she went to steal the silver shoes you wear from the Witch of the South, Glinda. Glinda was her friend, and Gayelette went to her under the guise of friendship and stole the shoes from her wardrobe.

“Again, she performed the spell and when it was complete, she found herself in another land altogether—a land of eternal darkness with glittering crimson skies and rivers of blood—and standing before her was a beautiful boy only fifteen years of age with burgundy eyes and hair the color of tawny wine. When he smiled at her, he captured her heart, and the fangs he revealed did not matter to her. She asked him his name, and he said it was Quelala. When they spoke, she found he was wise beyond his years, and they fell in love straightaway. Quelala was a prince, but the youngest of his name with no claim to the throne. Gayelette was a queen, and a powerful sorceress, and she could give him all he desired—the title of King, a grand castle, and a kingdom to rule—so she brought him back to her diamond palace in the North, but the North was not what Quelala expected.

“The sun disturbed him, so she darkened the skies. Without rivers of blood, he had to feed on the blood of animals to survive, and Gayelette forbid him to feed on any human. Oz weakened him, but Gayelette used all her magic powers to make him as strong and good and lovely as any woman could wish, and he was happy again. At last, however, when Quelala grew to manhood, his manly beauty was so great that Gayelette loved him very much, and she decided to make him her husband. And she hastened to make everything ready for the wedding.

“My father was the King of the Winged Monkeys then. The old fellow loved a joke better than a fat rabbit for dinner. One day, just before the wedding, my father was flying out with his band when he saw Quelala walking beside the river. Quelala wore a rich costume of pink silk and purple velvet stars, and my father found him ridiculous with his frilly ribbons and fancy ruffles and curls, so he thought he would have some fun with him.

“At his word, the band flew down and seized Quelala, carried him in their arms until they were over the middle of the river, and then dropped him into the water. ‘Oh my, oh me,’ cried my father, ‘has the water has spotted your ruffles?’ Quelala laughed when he rose to the top of the water and swam in to shore, but when Gayelette came running out to him and found his silks and velvet ruined by the river, she grew angry and she knew who did it.

“At once, she ordered all the Vampire Bat Monkeys to appear before her. At first she said that she should tie their wings and drop them in the river, but my father pleaded, for he knew they would drown with their wings tied. When Quelala said a kind word for them, Gayelette spared them on the condition that my kind should ever after do three times the bidding of the owner of the Golden Cap.

“Gaylette had this cap made for a wedding present to Quelala. They say it cost her half her kingdom. She sold it to her cousin, the Witch of the East, for the money to acquire the enchanted relic. At once my father and all the others agreed to the condition, and that is how we are three times the slaves of the owner of the Golden Cap, whosoever he or she may be.”

“How did Quelala end up with the Witch of the West if he’s married to Gayelette?” I ask, fascinated.

“Ah, well, this is where it gets interesting. At the wedding of Quelala and Gayelette, he met her cousins—Ozmirinda and Ezdalina, the Sister Witches. Both sisters were beautiful, just like Gayelette, and Quelala’s beauty entranced them both. Neither of them had ever seen a creature so beautiful, and they too struggled to find love. Intrigued and a touch envious, they asked Gayelette where she found such a beautiful husband, and she told them of Glinda’s shoes, the spell she cast, and that she has been waiting until he was of age to marry him.

“Soon after they were married, while Gayelette was happy and her kingdom was happy, Quelala found he was not happy. He expected to rule as a king would, but Gayelette was the ruler of her kingdom and she would not hand over her reign to her husband. Although Quelala was wise, he was far younger than Gayelette and she was far wiser. Quelala was impetuous while Gayelette cared for her people and would not allow her husband to treat them as slaves.

“Quelala, being the first owner of the Golden Cap, was the first to lay his wishes upon us. As his bride could not bear the sight of us, he called us all to him in the forest and asked us to bring the Vampire Witch of the East to him.

“When we brought her, he asked her what it would take to get her to give him the other half of the kingdom Gayelette had sold her. At first she refused, so he promised her immortality, not just a long life. She laughed and said she did not believe he could do it and by the time she would learn it was a lie it would be too late. So, he performed some invisible magic on her and soon after she submitted to him. But Ozmirinda required an additional price—Gayelette’s silver shoes. With a dark laugh, he agreed and asked us all to wait for him while he got the shoes, and so we did.

“When he returned, he gave her the same shoes you wear on your feet now, and then he turned her. That is a sight I can never un-see. I was young still, just a boy, and I stood and watched as this vampire human fed on the witch, drinking her blood from her neck as he took her on the forest floor, and when he drank all her blood, he finished, cut his own wrist, and poured his blood into her mouth. A moment later, her eyes shot open glowing red. Drained of all her blood, her torn gray flesh healed in a matter of seconds.

“The first words she spoke as a vampire were, ‘I need blood.’ So, he ran at a speed I had never seen and returned a moment later with a maimed deer, presented it to her, and she drank it dry. When she drank all she could, he asked her when he could claim his half of the kingdom, and she told him if he wanted to live in her palace, he must live in it with her. Then he grew furious and used his compulsion to send her to her knees.”

“Compulsion?” I ask, riveted by this story.

“The vampire that turns another vampire can control them, bend them to their will, compel them to do as they wish. Quelala sent her to her knees and commanded she serves him alone from then on. He said she was his now, and because she was his, he would allow her to stay in the palace in the West, his kingdom, and when he was there, she would be his slave. She said yes and called him her master. When he released her from his hold, she used her magic to put the shoes onto her feet, kissed his boot, and flew away.

“When Ozmirinda first turned, she went into Munchkin and fed on hundreds of them, captured many more to keep for snacks, killed any who tried to combat her. She turned almost everyone she fed on and made them her slaves the way Quelala had done to her. Then those vampires began to feed and turn more vampires, then those vampires began to feed and turn more vampires, and so began the plague.”

“Wow, so Quelala was with Gayelette, then he turned the Witch of the East and somehow he ended up with the Witch of the West?”

“Well, Quelala returned to Gayelette and told her he possessed half the kingdom, so she had no choice but to share. When Gayelette asked him how he got Ozmirinda to hand over her half, he told her he exchanged it for the silver shoes. It upset Gayelette, as one would expect, but he reminded her she stole them too. With that, she could not argue, but she could steal them back, so she went to Ozmirinda’s castle and discovered Quelala had turned her. Enraged, but still wise, she went to Ozmirinda’s wardrobe to take the shoes back, but they were not there, and when Ozmirinda found her there, Gayelette saw the silver shoes on Ozmirinda’s feet. Ozmirinda attacked her, but Gayelette fought her off, returned to her castle, and sent Quelala away never to return to her kingdom.

“Banished by his wife, he went to Ozmirinda to claim his title as King of the East, which is not a true title, but he still took it, and they began turning as many people as they encountered. They took entire towns in minutes, so Gayelette and Ezdalina came together to combat them. Ezdalina was powerful, but so was Ozmirinda. And when Ezdalina who loved her sister and remembered who she once was went to Ozmirinda’s castle and begged her to stop, instead of listening to Ezdalina’s plea, Ozmirinda tried to attack her, but her shoes would not let her harm her own sister. That is when Quelala intervened and performed the same invisible magic on Ezdalina, took her there, and turned her.”

“When you say took her, do you mean…?”

“Yes, he took her right there just as he did to Ozmirinda in the forest, and he controlled them both until their end.”

“But he was with Ezdalina as more than just her General after he turned her.”

“He was with them both. If what they say about you is true, you killed both his lovers and drove him out of his castle. If I were you, I would watch out for him.”

“Thanks for the tip. So how did Ezdalina get the cap?”

“Quelala used us two more times to do his bidding, then the Witch of the East took it and three more times they used us to do Quelala’s bidding. Then she gave the cap to Ezdalina who three more times used us to do Quelala’s bidding. And now the cap is yours and you have two more times to call upon us. With Quelala so upset with you for killing the Sister Witches and putting him out of his palace, if you encounter him, I ask that you dispose of the cap for we do not wish to serve him ever again.”

“No problem, but don’t worry, I already ripped his heart out once. Next time, I’ll figure out how to kill him for good.”

“The only way is with a rare commodity called holy water. It is his only weakness.”

“Good to know. Thanks.”

“If the Axeman will return to Winkie Land to rule, Quelala will come after him soon enough, for he sees Winkie Land as his kingdom and the people as his subjects. Quelala does not have the powers of the Vampire Witch though. Invisible magic only seems to work on one person at a time or he would have compelled all of Oz by now. Since he cannot cast spells to force them to do his bidding, I imagine he is gathering a great army of vampires to take over the Land of the West by force, then he will try to take over many of the lands throughout this realm.”

“Yeah, he’s as ambitious as it gets.”

“That he is,” the King agrees

Now that his story is over, I look out at the world around me and see the green, shining walls of the City of Emeralds before us. In one sense I am glad the journey is over, and not so glad in another because it means I’m leaving soon and I don’t want to go, not anymore. The vampire bat monkeys set us down before the gate of the City. The King bows low to us and his band does the same.

“Thanks for the ride and the history lesson,” I say when he rises, nods, and flies away, his band taking off after him.

“That was fast,” I say, my heart pumping anxiety.

“Yes, and a quick way out of our troubles,” says Werelion. “How lucky it was you brought away that wonderful cap.”

“Lucky,” Nick grumbles, disappointed our time together is ending. So am I. I’m miserable over it.

He wraps his arms around me and says in a soft whisper, “I love you, Dorothy.”

“Me too, but you,” I say, missing him already.

“Time to knock at the Gates,” Ardie says.

Nick releases me from our embrace and I face front. This is it—the beginning of the end.

24

The Discovery of Oz the Fraud

The four of us walk up to the massive gate of the City of Emeralds with Toto at our feet and ring the bell. No answer. So we ring again, and again. After ringing several times, the gate morphs from opaque emerald to a clear crystal and on the other side looking out at us is the same crotchety old zombie—the Guardian of the Gates.

“What? Back, again?” he asks with a sneer.

“Do you not see us?” says Ardie.

“Oz told you not to return until you killed the Vampire Witch of the West.”

“We did,” Ardie says.

“What?” asks the man, his jaw falling open and his eyes widening in wonder.

“Dorothy melted her,” Werelion adds.

“Melted? That is good news,” he says with a bright smile that somehow looks wrong on his ornery face.

The clear crystal of the gate disappears and we step through into the small room. As the hollow door fills with deep emerald crystal, the Guardian opens his emerald pavé trunk of spectacles, and we choose our glasses just as we did before. Unlike last time though, he doesn’t argue and presses the palm-sized cabochon on the wall. The door opens, and with our bags on our backs, we all step into the magical lift. When the door closes, before the Guardian can dial in our destination, the strange elevator takes off.

“Ah! Oz knows you are here,” says the Guardian as we hug the walls careening around bends and speeding up and down slopes. Toto slides across the floor toward me, so I bend down, pick him up, and hold him tight to keep him from bouncing off the walls.

Right as Werelion is about to lose his lunch, the elevator stops and the doors open to the roof deck rampart. The Guardian leads the way, and we step out of the elevator onto an elevated emerald platform with the Flower of Life pattern carved into it. Green mist rises from the pattern and engulfs us before it lifts us off our feet and transforms into a large bubble that carries us over the city. While I am in the same bubble with Nick, Ardie, Werelion, and Toto, the Guardian has his own, and he floats beside us as we beeline for the Wizard’s castle.

When we reach the front steps, the bubble lowers us to the ground and pops. Zombies, shifters, and humans walk up the steps and gather around as the Guardian’s bubble lowers and pops beside us. Raising his arms, he announces, “They melted the Vampire Witch of the West!”

Shocked whispers and gasps arise from the crowd that grows by the second, the announcement relayed from one person to another in hushed tones.

“Come!” the Guardian says to us with a wave of his hand as he walks up to the palace doors.

The whispers compound as the doors slide open. When we step inside, the door closes behind us and to my relief the whispers stop. The Guardian says something, but I can’t hear him because my heart is pounding in my ears. Now more than ever since I arrived, I feel nervous, worried. Anxiety constricts my insides to where I can’t breathe. Jellia appears with the other attendants in a puff of smoke and I smile to say hi, but I can’t say anything.

Concern takes over Jellia’s face, and she hurries us along. As I wave goodbye to Ardie and Werelion, I hurry off to the bank of Oz elevators. Even though I’m breathing, I’m not getting any air. Doors open and I hurry inside. People are talking but I can’t hear what they are saying because my ears are ringing. When the doors open to the vestibule that joined our old rooms, I hurry out and the door to my suite opens for me as I hurry inside with Jellia right behind me. Straightaway, I put Toto down, and she herds me into the bathroom with her hand on my arm, leads me over to the infinity mirrors, and sits me down on an emerald bench.

“Breathe,” she says into my ear and I am surprised and relieved I can hear her.

“Can’t,” I choke out and she presses my back down until my head is between my knees.

“Stay there and breathe. Deep breath in, and out. Deep breath in, and deep breath out,” she says in a soothing tone and I try to do as she says, but it doesn’t help—I’m still breathing and I’m not getting any air.

Soon my attempt at breathing turns into gasping and I’m frantic, suffocating. A paper bag appears before me in a green mist and I snatch it, open it up, and breathe into it, in and out, and it helps—my heart stops racing, and a little air makes its way into my lungs.

Jellia rubs my back in soothing strokes, and I calm down. The last panic attack I had was when I found out my parents died. Even when I thought Nick was dead, I didn’t have one. Now that we’re here though, now that we’ve fulfilled our mission, I have one after four years?

“What happened?”

“I had a panic attack,” I say as I collect myself.

“Yes, I know, they are common here.”

“No kidding?” That’s surprising to hear. Is it something in the green mist that makes people feel like they’re suffocating?

“Predators infest this world. Traumatic incidents happen to us all. Many of us react the same way as you just did.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“What happened?”

A lot happened, but why have a panic attack now? The first answer that enters my mind is that I don’t want to leave yet, and at any second, he could send me home never to return.

“I don’t want to leave,” I tell her.

“Leave?”

“Leave this realm. I’m not from here. The Wizard will send me back.”

“Oh,” she says, “and you are in love.”

“Yes,” I croak as tears shoot to my eyes and I cry.

“Dorothy?” Nick says as he enters the room, and when I look up at him, he looks so concerned that it makes my heart surge with misery and love at once, and all I can do is sob.

Jellia pats my shoulder and goes as he rushes to my side.

“What is wrong?” Nick asks as he sits beside me, caressing my cheek as he does.

“So many things. The first of them being I don’t want to leave.”

“You must go.”

“Come with me then.”

“Dorothy, we have been over this,” he says, his tone kind but firm.

“Do you know how this plague started?”

“Well, there were always zombies and shifters, and the threat of them, of being bitten, existed for long before the vampire plague began. When my mother was young, she left Winkie Land and met my father in her travels. As a child, she had learned to fight—her father and mother taught her well—and she was adept at eliminating zombies and werebeasts because of where she grew up. When Quelala turned the Witch of the West and enslaved almost all of Winkie Land, my mother wanted to leave but her family wanted to stay, so she left alone. On her own, she made it all the way to Emerald where she met my father, and they fell in love. My mother was a fierce fighter, and she taught me all she knew before she passed.”

“What happened to her?”

“A terrible illness took her,” he says.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“She was the strongest woman I had ever known before I met you,” he tells me with a sweet smile.

“Stay here. Don’t go back to Winkie Land.”

“Those people asked me to lead them and I promised them I would,” he says with disapproval in his eyes.

“Quelala will come for you there—he’s ambitious and sees Winkie Land as his. If you go there, he will come for you—he’s gathering his armies now.”

“How do you know this?” he asks, but he doesn’t seem surprised at all.

“The King of the Vampire Bat Monkeys told me. Quelala started this plague with the Vampire Witch of the East. Did you know he was Gayelette’s husband? Once he married her, he turned the Sister Witches to control them so he could rule their kingdoms. All this happened because he wanted to rule the North and Gayelette wouldn’t allow him to take over. Now he’s gathering an army of vampires, getting ready to come and kill you to commandeer the castle and conquer all of Winkie Land.”

Silence pervades and I suspect he already knew everything I just told him. With his lips pressed into a firm line, it’s clear he’s annoyed and trying to think of what to say to me next.

“Did you know all this?”

“Yes.”

“Right, so you’re going back there to commit suicide?”

“No, but I cannot leave those people. Now that the Vampire Witch is dead and Quelala left, they have their freedom back. Now, they can fight back. There is no spell over them any longer. Because my mother and her family lived outside of town on the outskirts of Winkie Land, they did not fall under her spell. That is the only reason. The wicked Vampire Witch no longer exists to enslave them and they need training to fight back. When they asked me to do it, I promised I would. There is no one else to teach them, or care for them, and as you now know, I have little time to do it, but they deserve a fighting chance, and I am the one who can give it to them.”

“Fine, but you know this guy is coming to kill you, right?”

“I am no idiot,” he says, and it makes me sad and angry at the same time.

“Oh, I disagree,” I say, getting mad.

“What?”

“What you’re planning is suicide. That’s stupid.”

“I will go out fighting, Dorothy. I will not give up, but I also will not leave all of those people defenseless.”

“If you expect to die in all this and you are still fine with it, you’re being stupid.”

“Perhaps I am stupid then.”

“Why would you do this?”

“What do I have to look forward to?” he shouts, getting very upset with me, and I flinch quaking with so much cortisol already pumping in my system. When he sees me trembling, he softens and wraps his arm around me in a comforting embrace even though he’s still upset.

“The life I lead is one where I expect to die at any minute every second of every day. The only hope I have ever had came when I met you. On this journey with you, I fell in love and came to this city in hope of a peaceful life only to see that is not possible here. This city is far from secure—it will not last now that Quelala is in charge. As you have said, he is ambitious, and he will come after this city and all the living inside, kill every werebeast and zombie with an army of so many vampires there will be no stopping them. This city is not safe. No place in all this land is safe. The woman I love is leaving, and I’m happy for you to live a safe life in a realm free of these monsters.”

“Come with me,” I beg, and he sighs.

“I am not a person who runs away. I am not someone who leaves people who are relying on me behind. That is dishonorable—it would plague me for the rest of my life. Not to mention, we do not know if I even could go with you, but even if I could, it would be very difficult for me there. Plagued by guilt for what I had done, I would be a burden to you and unable to get a job because the only way for me to exist there, to survive and provide for you, is to become a living dead person. Not only would I would hate myself, but you would grow tired of me fast that way.”

I know he’s right about everything but me growing tired of him.

“Please let me stay,” I ask in a sad whisper.

“Dorothy, I will die soon, and you will be here without me in this land of horrors. Is that what you want?”

“No, but if I’m with you, I could help you fight, protect you. With these boots I can help keep you alive.”

“If I know you are safe, I will be happy. That matters more than anything else to me.”

“What if you don’t die? What if you defeat Quelala and live? Will you be sad you let me go?”

“No matter what, I will be sad to be without you.”

“If I stayed, we could win, defeat him together. Then we could live a happy, safe life.”

“Dorothy, I want a life with you that is safe more than anything, but you will have one chance to escape this realm and you must take it. If you could return after it was all over, if we’ve eliminated the vampires, if the werebeasts and zombies find their antidotes, if I was still alive and somehow I could be with you, it would make me happier than I ever imagined I could be. It is a life I never dared to dream of, but that is not reality. The Wizard will send you back to your realm and we will never see each other again,” he says, and I see tears come into his eyes, “and I need you to go, so I can finish this. If you stayed you would be alone here, having lost your chance to return to a safe realm, and I could not rest well. When I die, I want to rest well, Dorothy,” he says, almost pleading with me.

“How can I let you die?” I ask, as my heart wrenches and tears pour down my cheeks.

“How can I let you stay?” he says, looking as miserable as me.

As I cry, I hug him tight not wanting to leave him in this horrible place to be the murder victim of an army of vampires.

“I feel lucky though. I got to fall in love with the most amazing woman in all the realms. For however short a time it may have been, you were mine—I got to have you as my love—and I get to help an entire people fight for their freedom. They may not win, but they will have a chance, however slim. And do not worry, my love—I will not go down without a fight. That I promise you. I will fight the soulless bitten to the death. Who knows, I may even survive. No matter what though, I get to make sure you are safe. That is a gift to me—to know you are safe and following your dreams.”

“You are my dream now. I want to follow you,” I tell him, beg him.

“No, you have me, always—my heart will always be yours—and you will go on in your own realm and find a man worthy of you who will love you the way I would.”

“I already found you.”

Like a total mess, I sob in his arms as he pets my hair and looks into my red, wet eyes.

“We may not have much time left together. May we spend our last moments happy? It would mean a lot to me.”

After a deep breath, I nod yes and do my best to collect myself as he dries my tears with his fingers and kisses my cheeks, then my lips, then carries me through the suite to our bed.

“I will love you forever, Nick.”

“I feel the same. I do not think I can move on from you, Dorothy,” he admits in a whisper.

“Me too,” I say and kiss him with everything I am.

This time, there is no holding back or denying what’s between us. All I have is now, and I’m making every single second count. He doesn’t hold back either, maybe because he expects not to last too much longer. The thought of it breaks my heart, so I try not to think about it and just enjoy this temporary bliss.

We spend the entire night in with no word from the Wizard, and I am happy for it. The more time I have with Nick, the better. Three days pass and still nothing, but we stay in making our last moments together count while Ardie and Werelion find the waiting tiresome and wearing.

They came again this morning to take Toto around for the day, as they have been since we arrived. Nick and I will be staying in, again, spending every moment we have being as close as we can be.

At the moment we are waiting for Ardie and Werelion to leave so we can be alone again. Cuddled together, we sit on the couch and to the outside eye it appears as if we are only sitting close, but he is being very mischievous, stealing naughty touches.

“Have a good day,” I say, hoping they take the hint as Ardie paces about saying something I’m not paying attention to. Nick chuckles at me.

“How can I have a good day?” Ardie rants. “Every day we are here I grow more and more vexed that Oz should treat us in so poor a fashion after sending us to undergo hardships and slavery! I have had enough of this!” he says and goes to my door and opens it. He peeks out and waves his arm.

“Jellia?” he says and Jellia hurries into the room.

“Take a message to the Wizard, please. Tell him if he does not let us in to see him at once we will call the Vampire Bat Monkeys to help us and find out whether or not he intends to keep his promises,” Ardie insists.

“Yes, sir,” she says and hurries away.

Nick deflates, as do I. I am sure he will respond to that and it will only end our time together. I have been enjoying this. It’s been blissful being with him, loving him, being loved by him. I will carry it with me forever.

“Since you’ve cut our time here short, go. Give Dorothy and I the little time we have left together,” Nick orders.

“Jellia will return with a response. We must wait,” Ardie says and Nick groans.

If we get called to see the Wizard, I want these last moments with Nick. When I look to him, I can see the irritation in his clenched jaw and furrowed brows, but he kisses me anyway. Sorrow and deep love overtake me, and I hold him tight as we kiss, desperate to hang on to him, to continue to fill that once empty space inside me with him for as long as I can. Since I’ve been with him, an empty part of me is now overflowing. Maybe Nick is more self-aware than I am because I was missing my heart too, I just didn’t realize it. Now that I have it back, I don’t want to let it go.

“Ugh. Can you please wait,” Ardie groans, not wanting to watch us grope each other.

“You could leave,” Nick says, shooting him a death stare.

“You are not the only one who will miss her,” Ardie says. “We all will miss her when she goes back to Kansas.”

“Why must you go, Dorothy?” Werelion asks.

“I wish I didn’t have to,” I admit.

“Because it is not safe for her here,” Nick insists.

“No, it is not,” Ardie agrees.

“That is true,” Werelion says with a disheartened pout, and I’m sure I’m wearing a very similar expression.

When there is a knock at the door, Ardie shoots up to answer it. A glitter faced soldier in a palace uniform like the one the Guardian wears stands in the vestibule holding his chin so high I’m not sure if he can even see Ardie there.

“Well?” Ardie asks.

“Come to the Hall of Mirrors at four minutes after nine o’clock tomorrow morning to speak with the Wizard,” he says, clicks his heels, turns, and goes.

Ardie presses the doorstone, and the door closes as Werelion stands.

“Good, so tomorrow we shall meet at the Hall of Mirrors at nine. We will take Toto again today if that’s all right with you, Dorothy,” Ardie says.

“He’ll love it,” I say as Toto jumps up with his tail wagging.

They say goodbye and head out with Toto in tow, leaving Nick and me in my room alone. The moment the door slides closed, he pulls me to him and holds me tight. I hate that we will part forever tomorrow, so much my insides wrench with misery.

I fear he is the only man I’ll ever love, but we are from two different worlds and although I could live in his, it’s likely I wouldn’t last too long here. There’s no doubt in my mind he would be miserable in mine—it would be too hard for him to survive there and adjust to the differences. He wouldn’t be happy, and he would be heavy with guilt for leaving an entire country of people relying on him behind for Quelala to enslave and turn into the soulless undead.

Throughout my life, I’ve always vacillated between believing in nothing but what’s tangible and knowable and having faith. In what I am not sure, but no matter what side of the metaphysical coin my thoughts and beliefs landed, I always found it easy to accept there’s a lot I don’t understand and be okay with it. What brought me to this realm, why I came to this realm, those things I do not get, and I won’t just accept it this time, not when I can do something about it.

Although it could be this aspect of things is a fluke. Maybe I came here to kill the Vampire Witches and Nick needed to love me to help me, and I needed to love him to keep going. Maybe that is all it is. If he’s right, he will die soon, and I get to be the woman he loved, however short lived our love may have been. Maybe me going back to another realm is just what he said it is—a gift to him, to know he wouldn’t be leaving me behind to turn into an evil night creature—and because he will know I am safe in my world, he can be at peace.

Even though I will be the one left behind, I will always be in love with him. I can adopt a child if I want one someday. There are so many children who need homes and it is not a requirement to fall in love with someone else to be a mom. In my heart, that child can be ours, even though he will be dead or here living a life without me. If he survives though, I don’t want him to never find someone. It’s foolish of me to believe he would stay true to our love after I’ve gone. I don’t want him to feel guilty either.

“Nick?”

“Yes, Dorothy?”

“If you survive, I just want you to know it’s okay with me if you fall in love again. I don’t want you to be alone. You should have a family, find a girl who you can love and make a life with her,” I say, and as I say it, it hurts so much, but I only want him to be happy.

“I want that for you, Dorothy.”

“I don’t need that to be happy. In my world there are many children who need homes. I was one of them. I do not have to give birth to be a mother if I want to be. You know I never expected to fall in love, and I’m not so sure that’s going to change once I leave. But just because I don’t foresee myself doing that, please know I don’t expect the same from you. You deserve a better life and I don’t want you to be alone. When you find a woman you care for, I don’t want you to feel you’re betraying me if you fall in love. Not that you would,” I tell him.

“I already am in love.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to feel you can’t…” I sigh. I hate the thought of him moving on from me, from us, but he should. It’s what’s best for him.

“I feel just as you do—I want you to be open to love, to find a man who will love you as I do, or… almost as much as I do. No one could love you more than I do,” he says, and I can tell he means it, and I believe it—no one could love me as much as he does.

He is my soulmate, and somehow, powers beyond my comprehension gave me the gift of finding my perfect match, however brief, however many worlds away, and I am so grateful. Nick is the greatest gift I could have ever received. I could have lived my entire life never knowing true love, never knowing what this could be. And even though I can’t keep it, I have had that love of my life kind of love, and I will carry it with me always.

For the rest of the day and all night long, we stay in cherishing every moment knowing it’s the last.

Jellia comes at eight the next morning to get us ready for the day and serve us breakfast. Then, at nine o’clock the glittery green soldier comes to lead us to the Hall of Mirrors where Oz takes his meetings. Four minutes later we all walk into the room together.

Mirrors reflect each other and nothing more until we step forward and see ourselves from every angle in an infinite echo of the five of us. Each one of us expects to see the Wizard in the shape he had taken before, and we are all surprised when we look about and see no else in the room.

Then we hear a solemn voice that says, “I am the Great and Terrifying Oz. Why do you seek me?”

“Where are you?” I ask. Why won’t he show himself?

“I am everywhere, but to the eyes of common mortals, I am invisible.”

“We are here to claim our promises,” Ardie says.

“What promises?” asks Oz.

“Excuse me?” I ask, growing angry. He knows very well what he promised each of us.

“You promised to send Dorothy back to Kansas when we destroyed Vampire Witch of the West,” Nick reminds him.

“And you promised to give me the cure for my zombiism and a relentless need to consume brains,” Ardie says.

“You promised to give me a place here in Emerald City so I would no longer need to be a heartless killer of vampires,” adds Nick.

“And you promised to give me courage,” says Werelion.

“Is the Vampire Witch destroyed for good?” asks the Voice with a slight tremble.

“Yes, I melted her with a bucket of water.”

“Dear me. How sudden! Well… Come to me tomorrow, for I must have time to think it over.”

“You’ve had plenty of time already,” Ardie snaps.

Werelion, gathering the mettle to be defiant, says, “We shan’t wait a day longer.”

“You must keep your promise to send Dorothy back to Kansas,” Nick growls.

Werelion, having mustered up even more courage, lets out a loud roar so fierce and dreadful, it riles Toto up and he charges the mirrors. Through the middle of the mirrored room, he runs toward what seems like the center mirror but with all the reflections it’s hard to tell which way he went until he leaps through the air, jumps onto a mirror, and it sends it over with a crash. Behind the mirror stands a little old man with a bald head and a wrinkled face, and he looks as surprised as we are.

Nick, raising his axe, rushes toward the little man, and cries out, “Who are you?”

“I am Oz, the Great and Terrifying,” says the little man, in a trembling voice. “But don’t strike me—please don’t—and I’ll do anything you want me to.”

All of us gape at the man in surprise and dismay.

“You are not the figment I spoke to in my suite,” I say.

“Oh, I have nothing to do with all that.”

“All that?” I say and scoff.

“The magic. The green fog and glitter. I have nothing to do with it.”

“But…” I say and stop, so confused. “Then you’re not the Wizard.”

“I am, or they think I am.”

“He is an impostor,” Ardie accuses, his voice booming, and Oz shushes him.

“Shh! No, you are wrong,” says the little man. “I have only been… making believe.”

“Making believe?” I shout.

“Hush, my dear,” he says. “Don’t speak so loud, or they will hear you and it should ruin me. I’m supposed to be a Great Wizard.”

“And aren’t you?” I smirk, realizing the scheme this guy’s been running.

“No, my dear. I’m just a common man.”

“Don’t you mean a con man?”

“Yes!” declares the little man, rubbing his hands together as if it pleases him. “I am as you say, a con man.”

“You’re a liar, and a cheat,” I clarify.

“I am,” the little man says with pride. Gross.

“This is terrible,” says Nick. “How shall Dorothy return to her realm?”

“How shall I get my courage?” asks the Werelion.

“Will I ever get my cure for zombiism and my relentless hunger for brains?” wails Ardie, wiping the tears of frustration from his eyes with his coat sleeve.

“My dear friends,” says Oz, “I pray you not to speak of these little things. Think of me, and the terrible trouble I’m in at being found out.”

“Are you serious?” I scoff. “Doesn’t anyone else know you’re a fraud?” Are people here that stupid?

“No one knows it but you four—and me,” replies Oz. “I have fooled everyone so long that I thought they should never find me out. It was a great mistake my ever letting you into the Hall of Mirrors. I will not see even my subjects so they will believe I am something terrible.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, bewildered. “Who is the man in the walls I spoke to? He called himself Oz… Wait, your name isn’t Oz.”

“No. Well, funny but my name is Oswald. Everyone always called me Waldo or Waldy though. Never Oz. Until I came here that is.”

“Where did you come from? They say you descended from the sky and grew Emerald City before their eyes,” Ardie says.

“I met a zombie who was there when the city rose and when the Enchanted Hollow burst open,” I say. “He said he witnessed it all.”

“As did I,” he says. “I was born in Omaha, and when I was young I joined the carnival. There I had many jobs and one was a balloonist.”

“Like making balloon animals?”

“No,” the little man titters. “It is a man who goes up in a balloon on circus day to draw a crowd of people together and get them to pay to see the circus,” he explains.

“Oh,” I say.

Circus day? What era is that? How long has this guy been here? How old could he be?

“One day I went up in a balloon and the ropes got twisted, so I couldn’t come down again. It went way up above the clouds, so far that a current of air struck it and carried it many, many miles away. For a day and a night, I traveled through the air, and on the morning of the second day I awoke and found the balloon floating over a strange and beautiful country.

“It came down slow, and I was not hurt a bit, but I found myself amid a strange people, who, seeing me come from the clouds, thought I was a great wizard. I let them think so because they feared me and promised to do anything I wished them to.

“Soon though, I found out about the zombies and the werebeasts and then the vampires came,” he says and shakes his head. “But when a brigade of zombies attacked from Gillikin, it was terrifying, and very gory. Many people were turned in a matter of minutes and a terrible battle ensued. The shifters drove them away in the end, but they forced the people I was with to move because they had to burn it all. When we found a place in what I now know is the center of Emerald and set up camp, everyone looked to me for an answer on how to move forward, so, out of fear, I ordered them to build this city, and my palace. I said, ‘Build us a city where evil creatures dare not tread. Surround it with a high battlement and set my palace at its center. Build homes for all the good people of this land who want to live in peace. Build shops and businesses for yourselves to operate. Plant gardens and farms to feed us all. Use your talents and skills to contribute to a good and harmonious haven for every peaceful being in these lands.’ I was quite the performer in the carnival,” he says with a proud smirk.

“When the people cheered, the ground rumbled, and before our eyes, the city erected itself from the ground. On the outskirts of the city, farms sprung up lush with full grown crops and grand mansions to tempt the fiercer shifters to live in. The city itself was a smaller version of what you see now. It grows as more people come.”

“What about the man in the walls, and the face that spoke from the Enchanted Hollow?” Nick asks.

“Oh, well, I know nothing of a man in the walls, but when the witches came to see me, I hid. Although I heard about the face, I did not see it, but I am glad it appeared. That was when everyone went from calling me Wizard to calling me Oz.

“Does that mean the magic everyone sees when they wear the glasses isn’t you?” Werelion asks.

“When the hollow appeared, one of our residents discovered the magic became visible if you looked through the emerald crystal. That was when I ordered them to make the spectacles, so everyone who entered my city walls could witness my magic. When they wore them, they would know to never dare cross me the way the witches did, or they would suffer my wrath. But I have no clue where the magic comes from other than a hole in the ground.”

“Why didn’t you just own up and say you had nothing to do with the magic?” I challenge.

I hate people like this guy. It’s not cool to cheat people. It’s not cool to lie or get something over on someone. Reprehensible is what it is. Pathetic, weak, and stupid is what it is. If you’re honest, you save yourself a lot of headache in the long run, and the effort and energy it takes to cheat someone or steal from them is better spent on doing honest, good work that hurts no one. There’s something sick and twisted about a person who gets off on hurting other people or taking something that isn’t theirs. When someone gets enjoyment out of harming others, I know that person is someone I don’t want to know, and I don’t want to know this old liar—he’s shady as hell.

“Do you want to find out what a city full of zombies and shifters angry at you looks like? I don’t. One of my greatest fears was the witches. There were four of them, and they ruled the people who live in the North, South, East, and West. The witches of the North and South were good, and I knew they would do me no harm, but the Vampire Witches of the East and West were wicked and had they not thought I was more powerful than they themselves, they would have destroyed me. The Enchanted Hollow incident was a miracle, just like this city springing up from the ground. Both made me seem more powerful than any other sorcerer around, so I maximized on the fear it instilled and sent a flock of wereravens with a treaty for each of them to sign. Although I was afraid, I knew my reputation for being more powerful than even them was a great asset, and I used it to protect the people of this city and myself. Lucky for me, they signed it. As it was, I lived in grave fear of them for many years, so you can imagine how pleased I was when I heard your house had fallen on the Vampire Witch of the East. When you came to me, I was willing to promise anything if you would only do away with the other Vampire Witch, but, now that you have melted her, I am ashamed to say that I cannot keep my promises.”

“You are a terrible person,” I say with disdain. I could use more colorful language but ‘terrible’ is the best way to describe what he is.

“Oh, no, my dear; I’m a very good man, but I’m a terrible Wizard, I must admit.”

“You can’t give me a cure for zombiism?” asks Ardie.

“No, but you don’t need it. You are learning what it is to be many creatures every day. Experience is the only thing that brings knowledge, and you are getting to experience what it is to be more than just yourself. It may not be easy, but you are gaining so much from your zombiism.”

“That may be true,” says Ardie, “but I shall be very unhappy unless you give me the cure.”

The false Wizard appraises him.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “I’m not much of a Wizard but if you will come to me tomorrow morning, I will give you an endless supply of brains, and a card for free meals in all of Emerald City so you may forever quench your relentless thirst.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” Ardie grumbles, perhaps accepting the consequences of his choice to become a zombie.

“How about my courage?” asks the Werelion.

“You have plenty of courage already,” answers Oz. “All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in droves.”

“Perhaps I have, but I’m petrified just the same,” says the Werelion. “I shall be very unhappy unless you give me the kind of courage that makes one forget he is afraid.”

“Very well, I will give you that kind of courage tomorrow,” replies Oz.

“How about my heart?” challenges Nick with a challenging smirk.

“Why, as for that,” answers Oz, “You already know you have one. Perhaps before you were heartless, but from what I have heard about you and this young lady here, it is clear that you have a heart, and you know it.”

“That I do,” Nick says.

“You will have a place here if you stay,” Oz tells him. “Come to me tomorrow and I shall give you a place here that will be here for you whenever you might take it.”

“What about Dorothy?” asks Nick, “How is she to get back to Kansas?”

“We shall have to think about that,” replies the little man. “Give me two or three days to consider the matter and I’ll try to carry you there. In the meantime, I shall treat you as my guests, and while you live in the palace, my people will wait upon you and obey your slightest wish. There is only one thing I ask—you must keep my secret and tell no one I am a fraud.”

We agree not to tell anyone of what we’ve learned and return to our rooms, and all I can think of is how relieved I am. As of now, leaving is not an option. That old con man can’t get me back to Kansas any better than I can. I’m staying, and I couldn’t be happier. It feels like a weight is lifting and an entire realm of new possibilities are opening to me. I can imagine a life here with Nick, and yes, we have a war to fight, but I’ve already killed two Vampire Witches and a zombie army, a ton of vampires, while Nick has killed so many evil night creatures I bet he couldn’t even count. With an army behind us, we can win.

“Dorothy,” Nick says, “if he cannot send you across the great desert, I want you to return to Winkie Land with me.”

“I would love it.”

“Before that, perhaps we should venture to finding the Witch of the South. She may help us find a way back for you,” he says.

“No, Nick, I want to stay,” I say.

“I may not survive. We’ve been over this.”

“If you die…” I say and stop, terrified of this prospect. It breaks my heart. But I am happy to know I may have no choice but to stay with him.

“If I die and you cannot return to Kansas after we have exhausted every possibility, then I want you to return here and stay with Ardie in the Emerald City. It is still the safest place in all of Oz at the moment.”

“All right,” I sigh.

“Promise me,” he says.

“I promise,” I say.

“Call the Vampire Bat Monkeys to you again using the cap and have them carry you here,” he says.

“I will,” I promise.

“If Oz and the witch of the South cannot help us return you to your realm, and you return with me, I want you to marry me. I am not asking you yet—I will do that more formally if the time comes, but I want you to know…” he stops and sighs, “I hope that you can travel home, but if you cannot, I want us to live together honorably,” he says.

“We are together honorably now, aren’t we?”

There is nothing dishonorable in what we have. We’re still young and just being with him is enough for me. But maybe it’s a difference in our societies. No one expects to get married at seventeen. It’s usually out of necessity when that happens. But he’s already been engaged once and he’s only nineteen, so I guess it is different here. And if I’m honest with myself, I’d love to be his fiancé.

“I do not want you to think I wouldn’t marry you because I would, gladly. First though, I want to make sure there is no way back to your realm. I believe there will be. I do not want to get my hopes up that you will be my wife. Above all, I want your safety and it would be selfish of me to ask you now. Do you understand?”

“I do,” I tell him, and he kisses me, and I kiss him right back.

We spend the night the way we have spent every night we have been here together, but this time I have hope it won’t be our last. Maybe it will even be the beginning for us, of a life together as soulmates. By my society’s standards, I’m young to get married, but with him it feels right. In my soul I know we are each other’s destiny, so even though this realm is monstrous, even though we both could die at any moment, I still don’t want to leave.

Now we know Oz is a fraud, we know he has no way back for me, but in exchange, a happy future awaits me on the horizon. I can see it clearly—I will be his wife, his queen, and we will lead the Winkies into a battle to rid this realm of the bloodsucking pestilence that plagues it. When we’re done, together we will build a life here in Oz, and I couldn’t think of a finer fate.

25

The Emerald Balloon

The next morning, we meet for breakfast in the palace gardens. Members of the court eat breakfast out here every day at little emerald tables in gazebos. Nick and I watch them from our balcony and make fun of their trivial drama—it’s like the Real Housewives of Emerald City out here.

There’s so much spectacle amongst these people. Constant gossip and jealousy and affairs, everyone trying to outdo each other. My boots give me super hearing and listening to their conversations is like watching reality TV—everyone gets worked up about nothing at all in particular and they somehow make trivial crap so high stakes you have to laugh. Jellia was right when she said they have nothing better to do all day than to talk to each other. High society in Emerald City exists, and it comprises shifters and zombies and humans all trying to be the best. At what though, I’m not quite sure.

Unlike everyone else around here, no one talks at our table—they’re all too disappointed to carry on a conversation. Although I’m as silent as they are, I am thrilled I have to stay. Part of me wondered why Gayelette’s hat told me to come here, but I think I needed this journey to realize coming to Oz was a blessing in disguise.

If I hadn’t ventured here, I’d never have met Ardie or Werelion or Nick, and each of them are one of the three biggest reasons I want to stay. Not to mention, Toto has never been this happy before—the hunting and constant socializing is so unlike our life in Kansas—Toto is far happier here than there, just like me. With these boots, I’m not that scared of monsters anymore. Maybe that’s naïve of me, but I feel confident about it. I’m happy to stay here, but Nick doesn’t seem thrilled to have me stay, and I can admit it hurts.

A palace soldier approaches our table. “The Great and Terrifying Wizard of Oz will see the zombie and the shifter in four minutes in the Hall of Mirrors,” he says, turns, and walks away.

“Congratulate me. I will get my meal card,” Ardie says and huffs, dissatisfied with the lack of a cure as he rises from his seat at the table.

“I like you as you are now,” I tell him.

“You will like me more when I am living again. I will find a cure. Until then I will eat brains here at the restaurants throughout the Emerald City. Off to the Hall of Mirrors,” he says and goes.

“And I must go to collect my courage!” Werelion says before he gets up and charges out after him.

After a few more minutes of eating a slow breakfast in silence, I say, “Are we just going to sit here and mope or what?”

“What?” Nick asks with his brows drawn together in confusion.

“Are you that miserable to have me stay?”

“What? No. Well…” he says and sighs.

“Gee, thanks,” I say and snort.

“I need you to be safe, that’s all.”

“Right,” I sigh and continue to eat my breakfast in silence while he stares at his plate, distraught.

About fifteen minutes later Ardie returns looking pensive and I can’t help but eye him with curiosity.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“Yes. Along with the meal card, the Wizard gave me a brain to consume, said it belonged to the wisest man in all of Oz. The man passed away fast, from a fall, and they put his brain on ice, frozen for later to feed to a worthy zombie, and he felt I was that zombie. Before today I had never eaten a human brain and I do not know why it surprised me to discover how much it differs from eating the brain of a baser animal. Although I hate to say it, human brains are far more satisfying. For the first time in a long while, I am not hungry, but I will not start consuming human brains now—do not worry. The man whose brain I consumed was a true wizard—not like Waldy—and I feel wise indeed, smarter, as if I know everything.”

Werelion returns, bounding into the garden, scaring the courtiers.

“Hello!” he says with so much joy it makes Nick and I chuckle.

“What happened to you?” Nick asks with a light laugh.

“The Wizard gave me a drink of what he called liquid courage. It tasted something awful at first, but by the second bottle, I grew to like it. Now, I feel very courageous and without fear!” he says, and I laugh to myself. I wonder what it was. Whiskey? Vodka? Something strong I’m sure. Nick looks to me with a knowing smirk.

“Congratulations, Werelion,” I say, and he beams with joy.

“Ardie, let us go find that werecougar. I should like to try out my newfound courage on her,” he says, and I giggle.

“May we bring Toto along, Dorothy?” Ardie asks and Toto jumps up, excited to go.

“Yes, you may,” I say, and they all go out into the city together leaving Nick and I behind to mope at the table and stare at our plates.

“Would you like to go out, Dorothy?” Nick asks.

“Would you?”

“Only if you do.”

“The only thing I want to do is spend time with you,” I admit.

“As do I, but I would like to discuss our plan.”

“What plan?”

“For what we will do from here.”

“All right.”

Maybe it’s good to think ahead, but I’m enjoying the possibility of being with him forever. Although he insists I leave even when there’s no way back because it appears the thought of me staying makes him miserable, and I can’t help but question what’s real between us. All I want is to be with him while all he seems to want is for me to leave and never return.

“After we hear from the Fraudulent Wizard, if there is no way for him to transport you back to your realm, we must journey to the South. It will be another long trek, but I believe the Witch of the South should have a solution for how to return you to your realm.”

“So, on a lark, you want to go on another crazy long journey for how long while you leave Winkie Land unattended for Quelala to just come in and take it back over?”

“Not on a lark—it is most certain if anyone can help, it will be Glinda.”

“How can you know that?” These people seem to be full of it. If they could travel from realm to realm they would, wouldn’t they? Why stay here with so many murderous creatures roaming about?

“Unlike the Wizard, she is not a fraud.”

“When I met Gayelette, she didn’t know how to get me back home. Instead of directions or any kind of information that might transport me to another universe for a second time, her hat turned into a tablet that told me to come here to see the Wizard—a wizard that isn’t even a real wizard. That hat said the answer would lie here, and it was wrong.”

“Well…” he starts and thinks on it for a moment, then says, “Perhaps then Waldy will have a solution, but if he does not, we will travel to see Glinda, the Witch of the South. Glinda is clever and kind whereas Gayelette is a Slayer Witch is far fiercer. Gayelette’s goodness is also questionable, considering she is to blame for the plague, in part.”

“How so?”

“Gayelette did not handle Quelala’s turning well and his ambition began this plague. She raised him to be ambitious. He was seven years of age when she found him, and she raised him to be her husband and her king.”

“Seven? The King of the Vampire Bat Monkeys said he was fifteen. Not that it’s much better but at least he’d gone into puberty. Seven? Talk about a pedophile,” I say disgusted.

“What is that?”

“A person who is attracted to children,” I explain.

“Ah, yes. Well, it would seem that is what she was. Although she did not act on her attraction until he was older, and when he came into manhood, she prepared him to marry her.”

“That would mean she’s a sick psycho. Are you sure it’s not just rumors?”

“Quite sure.”

“How can you be?” I ask and silence follows.

“Because she told me.”

“Gayelette?”

“Yes.”

Huh.

“Well, she’s beautiful,” I say, sure he had a thing with her.

“Yes, she is.”

“Just spit it out,” I say, tired of his clipped answers.

“Fine, she… likes me.”

“I can’t imagine you haven’t taken advantage of that,” I say with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, I have slept with her.”

“Okay,” I say, wanting more information. Just leaving it at, ‘I’ve slept with her,’ doesn’t cut it.

“Gayelette may look young on the outside, but she is tens of thousands of years old, and I did not want to continue with her, so she tried to spell me to love her, but it didn’t work,” he admits.

“What?” I say, quietly fuming.

“Glinda, who I have also met once, charmed me so she could not. Glinda did me a favor. She is kind, and wise, and is not a fan of Gayelette’s ways. Because I was only fourteen, she pitied me.”

“Wow, she’s gross.”

“Gayelette wanted me to… take Quelala’s place. It was an appealing offer, with all of her riches and strength, but she did not love me. I am attractive to her, and she would have continued to take other men. I did not want that kind of relationship even when I was only fourteen. And my mother was still alive at the time and very much against it. She was the one who contacted Glinda, suspecting Gayelette may try to enchant me.”

“Your mother was a smart woman,” I say, peeved by that sick witch. “Gayelette was strange when I met her—I noticed something off about her straightaway—and I find it curious she got so pissed I got the boots and she didn’t.”

“Quelala learned it somewhere.”

“Yeah, we will not go to Gayelette for help. Although she gave me all those weapons,” I say.

“Of which you did not need and did not use.”

“I used the flamethrower and the holy water, but the boots do it all. And I used some swords and stakes, and the rope. The rope was the most useful thing in that bag other than the flame thrower, but as far as weapons go, the boots have it all built in,” I shrug.

“That they do,” he smiles.

“Nick, I am so sorry she did that to you. You were so young.”

“Well, I wasn’t sorry then,” he smirks.

“Was she your first?”

“No. Nimmee was. I was very young. Thirteen. Nimmee was older than I was, and she let me,” he says and shrugs.

“Can’t blame you for that,” I giggle.

“Gayelette was a woman, and it was very… exciting for me. She was a powerful witch, beautiful, but up close her age is plain.”

“I saw that. Her eyes—”

“Yes, her eyes are old, severe, but her body is also… mature,” he says with a raised brow.

“Dusty snatch?” I say and his eyes widen before he guffaws.

“Oh, Dorothy, I love you so. You are unlike any woman in the entire realm. I will miss you something terrible when you go,” he says.

“Maybe I won’t go. Maybe I’ll stay,” I say and shrug, and he smiles but with a warning in his eyes.

“It is far better for you to go. You know it is true.”

“Do I?”

“You do,” he insists. “If I am gone, will you want to be here?”

“No,” I admit.

“Right—no, you would not—so you must return which means we will exhaust every prospect before we consider you staying as a possibility.”

“No marriage plans just yet?” I tease.

“I cannot entertain it—I will already be heartbroken enough when you go,” he says and my heart hurts at the thought.

When I caress his cheek, he presses his beautiful face into my palm.

“If we can find a way to be together, and safe, can we take it? Please?” I ask brimming with hope and he smiles at me.

“It would be a dream come true. Unrealistic, but a dream come true.”

The same palace soldier approaches our table.

“The Wizard requests to see you both in the Hall of Mirrors,” he says.

“Now?” I don’t want to leave just yet. Maybe never.

“Yes,” the soldier says and Nick nods to me. We rise and head out, following the soldier through the palace to the Hall of Mirrors.

We enter, the massive doors close behind us, and Oswald is there.

“Although I don’t have the faintest notion which way Kansas lies, I think the first thing to do is cross the desert and then it should be easy to find your way home.”

“How can I cross the desert?”

“When I came to this country, it was in a balloon. Since you also came through the air, carried by a cyclone, I believe the best way to get back will be through the air. Now, it is beyond my capabilities to make a cyclone, but I’ve been thinking the matter over, and I believe I can make a balloon.”

Yikes.

“How?”

“With silk that we will coat in glue to keep the gas in. There is plenty of silk in the palace, so it will be no trouble to make the balloon. In all this country, there is no gas to fill the balloon with though.”

“If it won’t float, it won’t do us any good.”

“True, but there is another way to make it float. Fill it with hot air! Hot air isn’t as good as gas, for if the air should get cold the balloon would come down in the desert, and our demise would soon follow.”

“We? Are you going with me?”

“Yes, I am tired of being a fraud. If I should go out of this palace, my people would soon discover I am not a Wizard, and then they would hate me for having deceived them, so I stay shut up in these rooms all day and it gets tiresome. I’d much rather go back to Kansas with you and be in a carnival again.”

“Well, considering I can’t fly a hot-air balloon at all, having you there would help.”

“I figured,” he says with a smile. “Now, if you will help me sew the silk together, we will begin work on our balloon.”

“Uh, I can’t sew,” I say with a light laugh “Maybe I can do a basic stitch, but not well enough to pull off what you’re talking about. We’d go down in the desert for sure.”

“Oh, well then I will have your maiden, who can sew well, do it for you,” he says.

“If she’s cool with it, then I am,” I say, not wanting to put work onto Jellia’s shoulders when there’s no way in Oz I’m getting in a balloon just to float around with no idea how to get where I’m going while flying predators come at me and I’m stuck in some basket thousands of feet above the ground.

“All right. Three days is what it will take, I imagine. I will send for you,” he says.

“Okay, thanks,” I say, and we take our leave.

We head out into the palace and Nick leads me into the gardens; I assume to take a stroll before we go back to our room. As we walk by a bed of twirling gladiolas in a pastel rainbow of colors, he says nothing, deep in thought.

“So I suppose you will leave soon,” he says breaking our silence

“You know I’d rather stay.”

“I wish it weren’t so unsure, your travels. To take a balloon into the sky in hopes you end up in the right realm concerns me.”

“Yeah, me too.”

After a moment of thinking it over, he says, “But you must try.”

Wow.

“If you insist,” I say shaking my head.

It’s a huge risk. Vampires fly, so we could still get attacked in transit. So many things could go wrong, and it would be so easy to end up in the wrong place. It’s crazy to do this. But he’s happy to see me go no matter what.

“Why do you look… angry?” Nick asks.

“It seems like you want to get rid of me real bad, no matter how great the risk,” I say with a huff.

“You cannot be serious!” he says, getting irritated.

“I could die on the journey, end up in the wrong place—that’s the most probable outcome—but as long as I’m gone, it seems you’ll be happy.”

“All I want is for you to be safe.”

“Yet you want me to take off in a balloon hoping to travel to another realm. That’s frigging nuts. I could end up in another realm even worse than this one! Who knows where I could land!”

“It is how he arrived. His logic makes sense. You both arrived by air. If you leave by air, cross the desert by air, it is logical you would end up back in the realm from which you came.”

“I guess I’ll find out.”

“Why are you angry with me?”

“Aww, gee, I don’t know, maybe because you seem to just want me to get out of your presence any way possible and it makes me wonder if you are still lying to me—I’ll admit it.”

“Now I am angry with you,” he says, offended, his eyes wide and his arms crossing over his chest.

“If logical thinking is driving this decision, it’s logical to think such a thing, is it not?”

“No! If you can leave, then you must leave. You are a target, Dorothy! They would kill you first! You killed two Vampire Witches! Two!” he shouts catching the attention of every courtier in the palace gardens, and there are many.

From what I know of them, the whole city will know about this argument by the end of the day. Who cares? I’ll be dead soon anyway, dropped out of the sky by a vampire because I was the idiot floating around in a balloon over their heads.

“You have the boots and whoever kills you takes the boots. How can you not see this!?” he shouts exasperated.

“Fine! I’m leaving! You win!” I holler back, giving them a real show.

“I do not win! Do you know what it means to fight a war with a broken heart, to attempt survival knowing if I do, I will live on without my love, forever?”

Now I feel like a total jerk.

“I hate this, Nick,” I say and crumble to tears again.

We stop walking and he pulls me to him.

“I am sorry I yelled,” he deflates as he holds me.

“Promise me you won’t die,” I say to him.

“No, I cannot make that promise.”

“I won’t go until you promise me you will fight to live with everything you have, everything you are. I won’t,” I insist.

“Dorothy—” he starts, and I cut him off.

“If you’re just going to give up, then I’m staying. You need protection,” I decide. “I will be in another realm, yes, but we will still be in love, and I will talk to you in my head, share my day’s events with you, and I’d prefer not to be talking to a dead man.” He smiles at me, caressing my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “We can still be in love, even if we are apart. Stay alive, for me, please,” I beg.

“All right, Dorothy, I will do my very best.”

“Promise.”

“I promise,” he says, scoops me up into his arms, presses his plush lips to mine, and carries me to our room.

* * *

Jellia informed me this morning at breakfast they had finished the balloon—made it out of green-colored silk and coated it with glue. They fastened a large basket to the bottom and built a structure to attach the silk to the basket while a fire burns to inflate the balloon with hot air. Being the con man that he is, he sent word to the people of the city he will visit a great brother wizard who lives in the clouds, and I am to travel with him. The news spread fast and now everyone will come to watch our departure. In a frigging balloon.

This sucks—I do not want to leave Nick. These last hours together we’ve spent saying goodbye, and I couldn’t stop crying for a while there, but it was making it harder for Nick, so I put on a brave face.

“It is time, Dorothy,” he informs me.

Oswald ordered the palace staff to carry the balloon out in front of the palace, so that’s where Nick leads Toto and me. As the seconds pass, my heart breaks more and more. When we arrive at the front door of the palace, he pulls me to him and kisses me; I hope not for the very last time.

Once more before I get on that balloon, I will kiss him goodbye, but after that, it will be over between us. Well, not over—my memories him will exist as long as I do. But the physical part of our relationship will end. He will be worlds away, and I will never lay eyes on him again, never touch him again, kiss him… Regret for leaving him will plague me for life. If something were to happen to him though, I know I would regret staying here.

As we walk out onto the steps of the palace, thousands of people gather around the inflated balloon held down by a rope. All I want to do is plant my feet and refuse to take another step. If I did that though, Nick would just pick me up and throw me right in that basket.

Thousands of shifters, zombies, and humans gaze upon the emerald green hot-air balloon with so much curiosity and awe having no comprehension of the science behind its functionality, believing it is magic.

Nick leads me over to the basket with Toto at my heels, where Ardie, Oswald, and the Werelion wait for us. Ardie picks up Toto to give him a hug goodbye. Toto licks his face in farewell, giving a slight whimper of sadness, knowing he will not be seeing him again. I hug the Werelion who holds me tight in a sad embrace.

“I will miss you, Dorothy,” he whimpers.

“Oh, I’ll miss you too Werelion. So much,” I tell him as I pet his mane and hold him close.

Ardie hands Toto to Nick, takes me in his arms and hugs me tight to his chest while Nick gives Toto a long hug, and Toto whimpers as he licks his cheek goodbye.

“I will miss you, Dorothy, always,” Ardie says, choked up.

“Me too,” I say, getting teary all over again.

“Waldy has asked me to take his place here,” he says with a sad chuckle.

“There is no one better for the job,” I tell him, and he beams.

“Thank you. I like it here, and I like these people. Although I will miss you every day, I will be happy here.”

“Oh, Ardie, I’ll miss you too.”

“I wish you a safe journey back to Kansas. It has been my great honor to know you, and to be your friend,” he says and hugs me one last time.

When he releases me from our hug, he kisses my cheek before I turn to Nick. He puts Toto into the basket of the balloon, and when he faces me, I throw my arms around him in a desperate embrace. He hugs me back, running his fingers through my hair, breathing me in, and I do the same one last time. He pulls back and looks at me, tears welling up in both our eyes, and we kiss once more. I give it everything I’ve got, holding his perfect face in my hands, being sure to remember every detail of him so I can carry it with me always. When he pulls back and looks into my eyes, he smiles, and I muster a smile back.

“It is time.”

Unable to keep it in any longer, I burst into tears as he hugs me once more before he lets me go. After I take a few deep breaths to collect myself, he scoops me up and puts me into the very large wicker basket.

“Goodbye, Dorothy. My heart belongs to you. I will love you forever,” he says and I lean over the edge of the basket and kiss him one last time with tears rolling down my cheeks.

When he pulls away, I tell him, “I love you, Nick.”

He steps back, away from the basket, and stands beside Werelion who cries as he watches on.

“Don’t go, Dorothy,” Werelion says and bawls.

I don’t want to go. It seems insane to do this, but I suppose I have no choice at this point—I guess it’s the only way. I bend down and scoop Toto up into my arms and look upon my love, my friends, and the people of this city, the zombies and the shifters intermingled with humans like Jellia who stands a few feet away and smiles at me with sad eyes as she waves goodbye. I wave back and do my best to smile through my tears. I will miss them all.

Nick and Ardie help Oswald into the basket, and when he looks upon his people, he says in a loud voice, “I am now going away to visit my wizard brother in the clouds to perform some very important wizardry, but I will leave enough of my magic behind to run and protect this city in my absence. While I am gone, Wise Zombie Millard will rule over you. I command you to obey him as you would me and if you do not, you will suffer my wrath.”

The balloon tugs hard at the rope that holds it to the ground when Toto growls. I look to see what he’s growling at and see a cat shifter and her cat shifter toddler, only four or five years old, hissing at Toto. I hold him tighter to me, but when she bares her claws, Toto’s had enough—he springs from my arms and leaps for her. The little kitten shifter hisses and runs off away from its mother. When Toto gives chase, I jump out of the basket to run after him—I won’t leave without Toto.

“Toto! Come back here!” I call as I chase him, but he ignores me. Ferocious barks ring out as he tears away after the kitten shifter.

“Come, Dorothy!” cries the Wizard. “Hurry, or the balloon will fly away.”

“Hang on! I need to get Toto,” I call to him as I navigate through the crowd as fast as I can.

When I find Toto, he’s barking into the closed door of a store. The kitty shifter has run inside and stands behind the clear glass wall of the door, hissing at Toto who growls and barks, ready to tear her apart. I scoop him up, rush back over to the balloon, and when I am within a few steps of it, Oz holds out his hands to help me into the basket. When I reach out, CRACK go the ropes, and the balloon rises into the air without us. Nick and Ardie both jump for the broken ropes, but the balloon floats away too fast.

“Come back!” I scream.

“Sorry, I can’t come back, my dear,” calls Oswald from the basket. “I don’t know how to steer this thing! Goodbye!”

“Goodbye!” shouts everyone, all eyes turned upward to where the Wizard rides in the basket, rising higher and higher into the sky with each passing moment.

26

Into the Undead Jungle

The four of us, along with Toto, sit on the floor of the Hall of Mirrors in the center of the room, surrounded by infinite reflections of us from every angle in every direction.

“It is not so unlucky, Dorothy,” Ardie says, “for this Palace and the Emerald City belong to us now, and we can do just as we please. When I remember that a short time ago, vampires nailed me to a pole in a farmer’s cornfield, and now I am the ruler of this beautiful City, I am quite satisfied with my lot. You too could enjoy life here, Dorothy.”

“Yeah, I think so too, your majesty,” I say with a giggle.

“Your majesty? No, I prefer Wise Zombie Millard, His Excellency, Ruler of Emerald, and if you disobey me, you will suffer the wrath of Waldy the Terrible.”

“Terrible liar is more like it.”

“That he is.”

“Nick is a ruler too now,” Werelion says and swigs from his emerald bottle of liquid courage.

“Now that you have found your courage, Werelion, you can fulfill your destiny to become King of the Shifters,” Nick says.

“With all the liquid courage I’ve drunk, I will never be afraid again! I will go into that Shifter Jungle and claim my throne. I’ll say, ‘Hello, fellow Shifters! Meet your King! Give me my throne,’ and I’ll roar so loud even the trees will tremble with fear, and all the shifters will be so nice to me because I’m so brave and ferocious,” he says, slurring almost every word.

“Here’s to hoping that works out for you,” I say, slurring a little myself as I grab his bottle of liquid courage and take a swig. “Yuck,” I say and shudder as I hand it back to him.

“If you don’t like it, why do you drink it?” Nick asks me.

“Why the frig not?” My native New York accent always seems stronger when I get drunk, not that I’ve gotten drunk so many times. I don’t like alcohol too much most of the time although it felt right considering the circumstances. Am I celebrating or mourning though? That I’m not sure of yet.

“What is frig?” Werelion asks.

“Ah, a good question. It’s a euthnistic, um, eu-phe-mis-tic emphasizer, to be pasficic, spasficic, spespific, sp-specific. We use it for emphsasis, empha-sis,” I say and huff a breath. “Why the frig can’t I talk?”

“Because you are inebriated,” Ardie says.

“Right. Right, that’s true.”

“Frig means emphasis?” Werelion asks, still not getting it.

“It’s used for emphasis, but it means, ‘to masturbate,’ so yeah. That’s what it means, man. I mean, not a man. Shifter. Are you a man still? How does that work?”

“If I want to be, I can be,” Werelion says with a nod.

“Cool.”

“We all have titles and you do not, Dorothy. You should have one too. I will give you a title.” Ardie offers.

“Thanks, Ardie. I’ll take a title, for sure.”

“How about Princess Potty Mouth of Emerald City?” Ardie suggests, and I guffaw.

“I love it. That’s the perfect title for me.”

“Dorothy will return to Winkie Land with me if she cannot find a way back to Kansas. Whatever her title, Winkie Land will be at the end,” Nick insists, and Ardie rolls his zombie eyes.

“Ooh! I could be the Duchess of Oz,” I suggest, and it’s Nick’s turn to roll his eyes while Ardie grins at me like I’m a cute puppy. “Oh, I’m so adorable,” I say in a little voice and blow a raspberry. “Give me more of that liquid courage, Werelion.”

When he passes me the bottle, I take a swig—it burns—and then I gag a little. Alcohol is so gross. “Why did I drink that?” I say and shudder like I do every time I drink alcohol. If I didn’t trust them with my life a million times over, I would never dare do this. Most of the time, I don’t enjoy being out of control that way. Life is chaotic enough. After everything, I thought if not now then never. I think I’m settling on never. Alcohol is not for me.

“Dorothy does not need a title,” Werelion slurs and scoffs.

“I do too!” I protest. Why should they all be kings while I’m still just plain Dorothy? I did all the same stuff they did. So sexist.

“You already have one! You are a sorceress,” Werelion says. “That is more powerful than a King or a whatever you said.”

“Duchess.”

“What’s that?” Werelion asks.

“Some kind of royal person. I have no clue. Something about a duchy,” I say and giggle. “Douche.” Hilarious.

“Why are you laughing?” Nick asks me with an exasperated chortle.

“What is a douche?” Ardie asks.

“The answer to both your questions is the same. A douche is an apparatus a woman uses to clean out her vagina,” I tell them, rolling my wrists to emphasize the word vagina. Nick guffaws while Ardie blanches, and Werelion giggles wearing an impish grin.

“We should stop calling your realm the civilized realm and start calling it the vulgar realm,” Ardie says.

“Come on, you guys must have vulgarities too. Tell them to me so I can use them.”

“We have them, but there are nowhere near as many as you have,” Nick says.

“Give me a good one. One I can use,” I say, and Nick chuckles.

“Scalawag,” Ardie says, and Nick shakes his head.

“That is not a vulgarity—it is a word. She means a spawl. What you call swearing we call spawling,” Nick explains.

“Poop-noddy!” Werelion bursts in a eureka moment.

“Poop-noddy? I love it! What does it mean?”

“Sexual intercourse,” Werelion says with a proud grin.

“What? I don’t know how you guys do it, but there are other ways,” I say and Nick laughs.

“What other ways?” Ardie asked with a perplexed grimace and Nick stifles his laughter to explain.

“Poop is a word for feces in her realm.”

“Feces? Oh, well… Ohhh, I see. Ha!” Ardie says and chuckles

“Poop-noddy isn’t so vulgar,” Nick says.

“Can you do any better?” Werelion snorts.

“You tell me—for sexual intercourse, the terms we have to describe the act are touse, swive, and wap. Wapping is the closest to a vulgarity of the three. Then there’re words for oral, the most common being, ‘Rumming,’ or ‘Rum me,’ is a popular vulgar phrase.”

“Rum me? I don’t think I can use that. Rumming might work though. We have rimming. That’s similar, but it happens at the back door.”

“Ugh!” Ardie grunts with a grimace and I laugh so hard tears come to my eyes.

“Zig-zig!” Werelion bursts.

“That’s one!” Ardie says.

“What does it mean?”

“Another way to say intercourse,” Nick says.

“Nonce!” Werelion shouts.

“That’s one I like,” Nick says with a smoldering glint.

“Definition?”

“Pervert.”

“Nice.”

“Bluggy,” Werelion adds. “When something bad happens you say, ‘Ah, bluggy!’”

“Cute,” I say with a chuckle.

“Paf! That’s one of our euphsesistic esphasizers. You say, ‘Gimme that paffing bottle!’ or ‘Get out of my paffing way, you nonce!’”

“Is everything all right?” Jellia asks as she enters, concern crinkling her emerald green eyes. She must have heard Werelion shouting curses, or spawling as the Ozians say.

“We’re fine, Jellia. They’re just teaching me Oz style spawling since I’m not leaving.”

“Ah, I see,” she says with a smile. “My favorite spawl is swange.”

“Good one,” Ardie commends her.

“What’s it mean?”

“Swange is the groin area,” Nick tells me.

“Yes, you say, ‘You smell like swange,’ or you call someone the word—‘That swange-smelling paffer.’ You can also tell someone to taste your swange,” she says and a laugh bursts from Nick. “That is a derogatory comment or an enticing one depending on how you say it. I say it all the time,” she says, and Werelion giggles.

“That’s one I’ll use,” I say, and I will.

“I am happy to help,” she says with a warm smile.

“You wayward half-faced onion-eyed puke-stocking!” Werelion shouts. “You beslubbering gorbellied boil-brained foot-licker!”

“Awesome,” I say laughing.

“If you are staying, does that mean you are not taking the trip south?” Jellia asks.

“We are,” Nick tells her.

“Right. Shall I have you packed for the journey?”

“Yes, we will leave tomorrow,” Nick says.

“Tomorrow?” Ardie says, very surprised.

“Too soon,” I groan.

“The journey from here to Glinda’s castle in Quadling Country is very long.”

“Why must we go when Dorothy doesn’t want to leave?” Werelion says, saying what I am thinking.

“Because her realm is safe. If we cannot find a passage to Kansas for her, Dorothy will return to Winkie Land with me.”

“If your concern is her safety, Winkie Land is not safe,” Ardie insists.

“Neither is this city. I suggest you gather a military now. When word of the Wizard having left spreads, Quelala and the other vampires will storm this city, and these walls will not keep them out,” Nick reminds him.

“No one leaves this city so that information will not spread,” Ardie says, but his worry is clear in his mien.

“How long a journey are we talking here?” I ask.

“Long,” Nick says. “As long as all our journeying combined.”

“We could call the Vampire Bat Monkeys to us,” Ardie suggests.

“Could they take you back to Kansas?” Werelion asks.

“Could they?” Nick asks with too much hope in his eyes for my liking.

“Perhaps,” Ardie says. “It is worth asking.”

“Yes, it is. Tomorrow morning, we will use the golden cap to call the Vampire Bat Monkeys to us. If they cannot take her back to Kansas, we will tell them to take us to Glinda’s castle.”

“I will prepare you all for your travels,” Jellia says and nods before she turns to go when Ardie stops her.

“Please make sure they prepare us for our return—it will be a long journey,” Ardie tells her and she nods again and goes.

“You don’t have to come with me,” I tell them. “If they can take me straight to Glinda, I’ll ask her to send me back. If she can’t, I’ll just come back here to regroup. I’ll call the Vampire Bat Monkeys again and have them bring me back.”

“Are you serious?” Nick asks but I just can’t look at him or I’ll explode.

“There is no question I will go,” Ardie says. “If you will return here, then the Vampire Bat Monkeys can carry me too.”

“I guess that’s okay then. I’ll go help Jellia. Come on, Toto,” I say. Toto leaves Ardie’s side and trots over to me. “Excuse me,” I say and get up, stumbling as I rise and storm to the door to go with Toto in tow, but it won’t open. I press the doorstone and it still won’t open. “What the… Let me out, Old Man in the Walls!” I shout into the air.

“Please do not go yet,” I hear in another voice, the old man’s voice.

When I turn around, the old misty man is standing in the center of the room reflected in every mirror. Nick, Ardie, and Werelion’s eyes go wide as saucers.

“Who are you?” I ask as I charge over to him.

“I am the Great and Terrifying Oz.”

“Waldy wasn’t the wizard?” Ardie asks.

“He is the one the people call the Wizard of Oz,” the green misty man says.

“Then who are you?” Werelion asks, very confused.

“I am Oz.”

“You are Oz,” Nick breathes, his eyes widening even more before he scrambles to his feet and then kneels bowing his head the same way Jellia does.

“Please, get up, my boy,” he says as though Nick’s reverence irritates him.

“I’m confused—” Ardie says.

“He is Oz, the land,” Nick says to Ardie with an expectant look and after a moment of confusion, Ardie jumps to his feet and bows his head.

“Thank you, Oh Oz, for everything,” Ardie says.

“Enough of your adulations. We have matters to discuss.”

“Oh yeah, like what?” I ask him with a squinted eye. Nick gives me a warning stare but I ignore him.

“Thank you for eliminating the Vampire Witches. The plague will not spread as fast anymore.”

“You’re welcome. Is that all?”

“No, it isn’t. I understand your hesitance to leave, Dorothy, but I need you to journey to Glinda the Good Slayer. On your way, I would like you to go through the Zombielands.”

“What?” Nick gasps. “Why?”

“Because I want you to burn it in your wake.”

“If you’re the land and the magic, why can’t you do it?” I challenge.

“Most of my magic I purpose to run this city, help those in need in other parts of the realm when I can, and most of all, to contain the plagues. I crack my ground, create great canyons, rapid rivers, to keep the undeath at bay, but the Zombielands keep growing, and my magic is too weak to stop it because of the infection. I need you four—” he says and Toto barks, making his presence known. “Sorry, I need the five of you to help me eradicate the undeath from my lands.”

“The Zombielands aren’t the only infected parts of Oz. Gillikin is even worse,” Nick says.

“One thing at a time. The Zombielands are growing fast, too fast, and I cannot contain it any longer. I need your help.”

“Why us?” I ask. Can’t someone else burn down his Zombielands? Why are we given all the treacherous tasks?

“Because you are a perfect combination. With the Zombie’s wisdom, the Axeman’s heart, the Werelion courage, and your soul, Dorothy, you make the perfect hero. More than ever, we need a hero.”

“Then Dorothy should stay in this realm?” Werelion asks and Nick glares at him.

“Dorothy may return once you burn the Zombielands, but the Vampire Bat Monkeys cannot fly you to Kansas, for they cannot travel out of this realm, at least not by flight.”

“Can you return her?” Nick asks.

“No, I cannot. I also am tied to this realm.”

“If that’s true, how did you take us through space in a bubble, outside the universe?”

“You saw it through a window from within this realm. I am not the only one like me in this realm. Others before me made windows out to the omniverse. I brought you to the window.”

“We’re not an egg?” Nick asks, his sarcasm plain.

“I do not know. Perhaps we are the yoke, like Dorothy supposed. Perhaps we are an engine or a functioning piece of an even greater mechanism. Or perhaps that is all it is in its entirety and there’s nothing more beyond it, and our purpose is to exist and continue to do so. I think there is more and that we have a purpose. Dorothy could be right about goodness, that it is the job of every good being to spread their goodness as far as it can go, to shine our floodlights of beneficence into the darkness, illuminate the shadows so that then we can heal and create an existence good for everyone and not just one group—that is what we are to strive for.

“Over recent years, bloodsucking, soulless death that spreads like a terrible disease has infested my lands, my people, my rivers, and it will continue to spread until it takes over the realm. And then there is the zombiism to contend with,” he says.

“Is there a cure? Is it real?” Ardie asks.

“There is. The Powder of Life is its name. One sprinkle and it gives life to whatever it touches. The Crooked Three created it.”

“Who?”

“The Nikidiks, also known as the Crooked Three, made up of the Crooked Wizard, the Crooked Magician, and the Crooked Sorcerer. They created the Zombie Spice and the Powder of Life. The Crooked Three meant them to be a pair, for once a person takes first the spice, then the powder, they are immortal. They say there is a third elixir that rids one of their immortality and extraordinary healing abilities. It is an antidote you take when you are ready to age.”

“What?” Ardie gasps.

“Yes. First you take the Zombie Spice and a transformation occurs that brings the body into a state of undeath where every injury heals. And just a sprinkle of the Powder of Life cures every side effect of the undeath except for healing and immortality.”

“Where can I get it?” Ardie asks.

“If I knew I would tell you and ask you to cure the realm with it, but the Crooked Three are out of my sights and have been for hundreds of years. There is an abundance of spice, but the Powder of Life has disappeared along with its creators and so has the antidote. The formulas require ingredients I do not produce, and I am unsure what they might be or how to make them myself. Perhaps if I knew what it was, I could make it.”

“Where were they last seen?” Ardie asks.

“Gillikin, where there is only one living being left—a single tree whose roots go so deep it has not turned. It is an Ozwood tree over a thousand years old and the only being there I could save. I surround Gillikin with my magic at all times because no undead creatures can escape or the zombiism will spread far too fast for me to contain it. I did the same with the Zombielands but my magic there is weakening. If I want to continue to run this city and protect the lands, I cannot divert anymore of my power. That is why I need you.”

“You are asking us to venture into the Zombielands and burn it as we go?” Nick says.

“I am asking you to burn the Zombielands. Whether you go through it or around it, I do not care as long as it burns. I will contain it so no beings can escape. When it burns, my magic there will strengthen. When it is ash, I can replenish the soil with living, organic matter so it will grow healthy once again.”

I have an idea and I hate that I do. It pops right into my head when what I want to do is tell this guy to stuff it. Fine, he needs help, but why send me away? That made me so mad, but that’s the only reason I want to walk away. Otherwise, it sounds like a serious problem that needs addressing, and I have an idea how to fix it.

“Do you guys have anything like C4 or lighter fluid or gasoline?”

“Gasoline?” Ardie asks.

“A liquid agent that is flammable and doesn’t just burn off or evaporate in an instant like alcohol does. Like the stuff in the flamethrower.”

“What is C4?” Werelion asks.

“An explosive. It has the consistency of modeling clay—it’s a malleable plastic you stick to what you want to explode then detonate—it blows the place to high heaven.”

“To where?” Werelion asks, his nose scrunched in perturbation.

“High into the sky,” I clarify.

“I am not sure I can contain something like that,” Oz says.

“Well, I doubt you have any C4 so it’s moot. Some kind of flammable liquid that doesn’t just burn off is ideal.”

“We use oil for lanterns,” Nick says.

“That could work. Can we get barrels of it, like barrels and barrels?”

“This is sounding very messy and risky, Dorothy,” Ardie says.

“It could be easy though. All you need to do,” I say, turning to Oz, “is get us and a crapload of barrels of this lantern oil to the side of the Zombielands that Glinda’s Castle is on.”

“That I can do. Everything will be ready tomorrow,” he says and fades away to mist.

“Okay, boys. Let’s get packing,” I say and head out of the Hall of Mirrors with Toto at my feet, and this time, the door slides opens with ease.

27

Through the Zombielands

Vampires flood the sky. An army of shifters, zombies, and men stand waiting, looking up, stakes drawn and ready to fight. Werelion stands on his hind legs, heads above everyone else. He wears an iron branch-like crown and plates of iron and brown leather armor all over his body.

In copper and green armor that is far sparser, and I’d guess easier to move in, Ardie stands with his hands out at his sides, ready to leap up and rip off vampire heads. Between them, Nick sits on the back of an albino horse shifter, a centaur with white hair, pink eyes, and the palest white skin taut over rippling muscles. He’s covered in thick leather and iron armor with a broadsword and shield in his hands. Nick wears his gold and silver panoply with his axes strapped to his body. He grips a joust-like giant stake in one hand and a shield of silver trimmed with gold in the other.

When he raises the long stake he shouts, “Ready!” And when the vampires descend upon them, they attack.

It’s a bloody, gory fight—Ardie rips the heads off vampire after vampire, jumping high into the air to grab them out of the sky while Werelion bats their heads right off with his long sharp claws and giant paws. Along with his shifter horse, Nick destroys every vampire within ten feet. He’s great with his axes, but he’s mind-blowing with that stake, impaling three and four at a time, straight through the heart, before they even touch the ground.

Eyes are on me—boring into me. Heavy, cold breathing in my ear sends chills down my spine but when I turn, no one’s there. When I look up, there he is again, hovering over me. Quelala, in his black leather armor, his rose bronze hair blowing like he has his own personal wind machine, burgundy eyes boring into mine, trying to work his magic.

“Haven’t you figured out your tricks don’t work on me?”

“Oh, I have,” he smolders, “and do you know what that means?”

“That you’re not as good as you think you are?”

“That you are the one.”

“The one what? Person who will kill you?” He throws his head back in laughter. “I’m glad you think that’s funny. You’ll be hysterical when I melt you like I did your girlfriend.”

Although his eyes narrow, he smiles, showing his twinkling fangs.

“Gross, you got something stuck in your teeth,” I say and point to my incisor. “Right there. Like a big black nasty hunk of something. Take care of that, would you? It’s unsightly.”

A growl escapes him as his smile falls, his lips tightening over his teeth.

“Soon enough, my love, my one, you will come around. Perhaps not today, but someday you will be mine.”

“The only relationship you and I will ever have is one of murderer and victim. In case you were wondering, I’m the murderer and you’re the victim.”

“Oh no, my love, that is where your wrong. They wrote our love in the stars. You will be my wife and we will reign over everything together.”

“Hello, you’re already married. Heard that didn’t work out too well for you though. She told you to kick rocks. Smart woman.”

“Wrong woman.”

“And I’m the right one?” I say and scoff.

“That you are,” he says with a glint in his burgundy eyes.

“Ha! Let’s see how that goes for you,” I glint back.

In an instant, he is right in my face, his icy breath tickling my cheek.

“Ugh, halitosis much? That breath of yours smells like blood and shit,” I grimace, waving his rank breath away with one hand as a stake shoots out from my other fist stabbing him through the heart, but he only smiles.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet? You can’t kill me.”

“Oh, but I can. See, I know your weakness, and one day, I promise I will use it to kill you,” I say, rip his heart from his chest, and hand it to him before I walk away and call over my shoulder, “Watch your back, Lala, I’m coming for you.”

Moving at hyper-speed, he appears in front of me and attacks fangs first. With a gasp, I wake up.

After hours of tossing and turning next to Nick who had no trouble knocking right out, I fell asleep for a few hours only to have terrible dreams about Quelala, and every time he would tell me I was his love, and I would rip out his heart, tell him I’d kill him soon, then it would start all over again. Just thinking about it sends the yuckies up and down my spine. When I look out through the green tinted crystal window and see the sun is coming up, I get out of bed to get an early start on my last days in Oz. Toto is still asleep, snoring in his doggy bed, so I tiptoe past him and head to the bathroom.

After I brush my teeth and take care of the basics, I head over to the emerald plunge pool bathtub, place my hand on the wall and watch as it bubbles and lights up green. After I undress, I walk up the steps in only my boots and get in. I’ve given up on worrying about the state of my feet. There’s nothing I can do and if they fall off, then they fall off. Until I can remove these boots, I just have to deal.

The warm temperature relaxes me as I wade over to the underwater emerald bench and sit, water engulfing me up to my chin. One deep breath, then another, and I feel myself decompress. As I try to clear my mind, tears roll down my cheeks. Today could be my last day. If Oz is right, Glinda can get me home. Despite its horrors though, I’ve fallen in love with this world. All I want is to stay.

Horrors of a different kind plague my world, but they are horrors still. So our monsters don’t have actual fangs or suck actual blood, they are not actual wolves, but they act like it, and the damage they do is just as bad. Aside from magic, the biggest difference I can see is that here I am a sorceress with powerful charms and a rainbow of powers I can use to defeat evil and thwart bad guys. Here, I can help make the world peaceful and free of disease, enslavement, and atrocities—I can make a significant difference.

If I have to go home, which it looks like I will, I will volunteer as much of my time as I can. Maybe even try to go into the non-profit sector, or join the peace corps. It’d be nice to live a life that fulfills me and maybe that’s how I can do it—work for a worthy charity that gives more to its cause than its employees. After leaving all this behind forever, I might be miserable but maybe if I can feel like what I’m doing there is meaningful, it’ll be worth it.

As I try to form a new vision of my future, no prospect seems to stop the tears. If I give in to hope, a life with Nick in Oz is all I see. It’s just so hard for me to believe Oz brought me here to kill two Vampire Witches, burn down the Zombielands, and then leave when there’s still so much work to do. Why pluck me from another realm to do something many other people could have done? If Oz had given Nick, Ardie, and Werelion the same task, they could have done it without me. Oz could have taken barrels of holy water in on a cyclone and used his mist to carry it right to his vampire enemies and pour it over their heads. Why me? Because now I’m left like this, bawling in the bath at dawn.

If I had never come here, I wouldn’t have known what I was missing—I could have gone through life never expecting love or true happiness and dreaming of the thrills and colors of other places. Now I know nothing will compare to what I have here, and I’m heartbroken.

“No, I’m not leaving,” I breathe, and just saying the words aloud, even in a whisper, soothe me.

“You must,” Oz says as he appears as a misty figment before me, and I sit up.

“Why me?” I ask. I need to know.

“Why you?” he echoes, uncertain of what I mean.

“Yes, why did you bring me here and not barrels of holy water? Why bring me here just to send me away?” I ask, so harrowed and heartbroken unable to stop the tears from streaming down my face.

“But I did not bring you here for I have no power outside this realm—I am tied to it.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, but I called out for help.”

“Called out?”

“Yes, I called out and asked for help because I am dying, or undying. Undeath is taking me over. Vampire blood flows in my streams, zombiism is spreading through me, and I have very little time left before I change too. That is why I need you to do this for me—I will die if you don’t.”

“You could do it without me. What I want to know is why it had to be me.”

“The magic inside you is the strongest I’ve seen in any being. There is something outside of you that helps you too, and I think it’s what brought you here. Perhaps it heard my call and carried you to me, to be a vessel of its power. Perhaps it’s why you are as strong as you are although I cannot be certain. But when you arrived, I knew it was you. Every time I have called out for help, it has given me a sorceress or wizard who helps heal what ails me.”

“So, you asked for help and you got Oswald?” I ask, befuddled.

“Yes, his clever and dramatic ways helped me quell the spreading of the plagues. The treaty he designed, knowing to survive in this realm he must invoke fear, enabled me to contain Gillikin without a struggle from the Zombie Witch and keep the vampires out of Emerald by order of the Vampire Witches themselves. This city was his idea. I had never known of such a place. And like you, he had the unique ability to draw upon my power, as sorcerers and wizards do—he spoke the words, and I followed his command. Although he did not realize that he had the powers of magic. Perhaps that is why it never grew in him the way it has you.”

“It’s the boots.”

“But it also isn’t.”

That statement feels undeniably true to me—it’s not just the boots. Here, I am powerful, and I will miss it so much.

“Why are you sending me away?” I ask in a voice far smaller than I intended.

“A war is about to begin, and the Axeman is right—you are a target. Quelala is after you. Those dreams are not just dreams—he is speaking to you in your sleep. I am grateful to you, and I have grown fond of you. You are so young, and I cannot ask you to stay.”

“But I want to stay.”

“Not if your Axeman dies,” he reminds me and I sigh, because it’s true. To be here without him would be too painful. But I also want to be with him as long as I can.

“Is there a way for me to go back later? If Glinda can send me back, why does it have to be now?”

“The sooner you leave, the safer you are, but I do not know how Glinda will get you to Kansas because I do not know how to travel the realms. She does though.”

“She does? How?”

“I will let her tell you that.”

“Fine,” I say with a disheartened sigh.

“You have a long life ahead of you. If you stay you may not get to live it. That is why the Axeman sends you away so soon against your will and breaks his own heart. Because he loves you more than himself and he knows he will probably not survive, but like you he wants to do as much good as he can before he goes.”

Tears burst from me and I sob, unable to control it. I did not understand how much this could hurt, that heartbreak feels like your heart is actually breaking, torn in half, ripped from your chest, stomped on, then put back.

“Cry now, let it out, but be strong for him. He needs you to be. He is barely keeping his composure as it is.”

“So, he loves me?” I ask, and I felt I knew the answer, but I have had doubts.

“More than his own life and all the realms. Be strong for him.”

“Okay,” I croak out and swallow my sobs, doing my absolute best to stop crying. Oz fades away into mist and after a few moments, my breath steadies and the tears stop.

* * *

Just as it did before, everything I put on my list came to me including a map of the area from the Zombielands to Quadling. After a quick breakfast, I said goodbye to Jellia and Oz carried us in a bubble all the way to the far side of the Zombielands. On the opposite side of Quadling at the border of Jinxland and the Great Sandy Waste is Quadling’s capitol city where Glinda’s Castle stands, and in this spot we should have a clear path straight to it. A thick red cloud surrounds the Zombielands, which is a rainforest with violet soil and blackened trees with violet leaves. Menacing growls rumble from within alongside unnerving, high-pitched caws that pierce my eardrums and chill me to the bone.

“What now, Dorothy?” Werelion asks without fear and it gives me courage, so I take out the Golden Cap and call the Vampire Bat Monkeys to us.

“What will you ask them? We need to burn the Zombielands before we go to Glinda’s Castle,” Ardie says.

“I know, but we need them to help us with this. These barrels are heavy, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. There are a lot of them and they have to do what I tell them to, so why not make them cover the Zombielands with the oil? Once that’s done, we light it up then have them fly us away from the fire to Glinda’s Castle.”

“It will work,” Nick says. “But we must be ready to run. Oz says he can contain the fire, but he is weak here and we cannot be sure. All his energy will go to trapping the escaping undead—we cannot trust it.”

Chatters and yelps from overhead alert me they are near. Within seconds, the Vampire Bat Monkey King and his band land before us.

“Hi,” I say as he kneels and opens his mouth to begin his spiel, cutting him off. “There’s no need for that. We need your help.”

“What is your command?”

“We want you to douse the Zombielands in the liquid from these barrels. Line the outside and then work your way in. Once you are all out, we’ll light it up and you can carry us out of here,” I say.

“No,” he says, flat and unwavering.

“No?”

“It’s suicide. We are the last of our kind. We will not eliminate ourselves for the sins of my father.”

“Could you fly them over and pour them from above?” Nick asks.

“Yes, that we could do, but we would need to fly high enough that the trees won’t catch us.”

“We can’t burn only the tops of the trees. It needs to burn through and through,” Ardie says.

“I will pour the oil on the ground,” Werelion volunteers.

“No, Werelion, you don’t have armor. It’s not a good idea. I’ll do it,” I say.

“No, I will,” Nick says.

“I’m faster and my armor covers every inch of me—it is impenetrable.”

“Dorothy, I—”

“Nick!” I snap and calm myself straightaway, doing my best to speak in a composed tone. “I’m not a helpless damsel, and I appreciate you want to protect me, I do, but back off. I’m more capable than anyone else for this task.”

“Except me,” Ardie says.

“That’s a given. We’re both going to do it,” I say. “It’s a huge area and we’ve got a lot of oil to spill.”

Chatters and screeches catch my attention and I look to the band of Vampire Bat Monkeys playing with Toto, so excited by him. He’s showing them all his tricks. They are clapping and jumping, and Toto is lapping it up.

Once we devise where to place the oil, I call up my armor and walk over to the carts stacked with barrels. I lift one—light as a feather thanks to my magic boots. I grab a few spouts and one of the harnesses I requested for this purpose. Although I thought a Vampire Bat Monkey would wear it, so it might not fit. I step in and put it on as Nick walks over to help me strap it to my back. It’s so heavy he can’t lift it, so I pick it up with one hand and turn enough for him to finagle it into the harness.

“I wonder if I could fit into those boots,” he says, and I chuckle.

“You’d look good in heels,” I say and turn to face him.

“Dorothy, I’m sorry—I do not intend to treat you like you are incapable. I only hate the thought of you getting hurt when we’ve come so far and we’re so close to getting you home.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” I say and with a kiss to his cheek, I grab two barrels by the handles and head over to the King. “Grab a barrel. It may take two of you to carry one—they’re heavy. And attach a spout,” I tell him and he turns and chatters to his band before they stop fussing over Toto and head over to the carts. “Try to douse it all. Break it up into sections, and if you need to get more, there is an entire cart left over.”

After struggling with the weight of the barrels, they are ready. Ardie has no trouble carrying his barrel.

The King chatters at them all, pointing in different directions as he does, and they take off. He grabs his end of a barrel and lifts off after them. And we watch on as they pour the oil over the tops of the trees. Zombie birds fly up toward them and the Vampire Bat Monkeys flap their wings to back away, but the thick mist keeps them protected, shutting out the escaping undead.

From a safe distance, the Vampire Bat Monkeys continue to pour the oil over the tops of the trees and soon enough they return.

“One last time you may call upon us before our service to you ends,” the King says.

“All right, we’ll be needing that in a minute. Wait here. I’ll line the perimeter,” I say as Nick installs the spouts in my barrels. “Ardie, why don’t you work your way across. I’ll bring in another barrel for you when I’m done with the outside,” I say, and he nods.

“Meet you in the middle,” he says and runs inside with his barrel at the ready, and I follow as my armor covers my face and eyes.

This time on the screen before my eyes, veiling my vision in a haze of red light, I hurry past the thick mist border of the Zombielands. As I try to rush past the first set of trees, violet vines come at me from above with far more speed than I’d expect from a tree, zombie or not. My armor does the work for me and severs any vine that touches me, black-violet zombified gooey sap pouring out. I need to move fast.

When I make it past the first set of trees and vines in this sinister undead jungle, I tip one of the barrels and run as fast as I can. Vines slap and grab me as I zoom by while zombie bugs splat against my armor, but I’m pouring a steady stream of lantern oil at the base of these trees, and if they’re anything like the trees outside of Munchkin, they should light up fast.

When that barrel runs out, I toss it and tip the one in my other hand as I run. The vines get far more aggressive going for my neck and head, but I’m moving so fast they come out as slaps, and even with my armor, they hurt. But I keep on and come around to the other side of the Zombielands—thanks to having a map for once, I know I’m halfway around.

On this side, the trees have branches and they stab at me, try to grab me—their crooked, jagged, black-violet branches extend before me and far ahead to prepare for my arrival, as if they’re all working together to get my brains—and my armor weaponizes, sharp blades spinning and slicing through the branches that try to imprison me as I charge ahead at least ninety miles an hour, spilling oil all the way.

At two-thirds of the way around, the barrel has run dry, so I toss it and pull the last one off my back. The vines have returned, but these are thicker and cause me to stumble more than once. I keep on my feet though and get the job done. When I am back at the start, I toss the barrel and head through the thick mist, slowing to a stop when I reach the carts where everyone but Ardie waits. As my armor reveals my face, I say, “Can you guys help me push the last cart of barrels out of that ditch?”

Werelion, Nick, and the band of Vampire Bat Monkeys all get behind the cart and shove as I pull it by the rope at the front. With a loud grunt, we get the cart out and the King says, “Three times we have served you and we have met our obligation.”

“What? No way. That was a favor.”

“It was a request, and we met the obligation. Good luck to you,” he says, and they all fly away.

“Rats!” I burst and Werelion jumps.

“Where?” he gasps as he dances from foot to foot looking for rats. Guess he’s still got a little fear left in him, and I think it’s a good thing.

“It’s an expression. Relax,” I tell him as I go to my bag of weapons and grab the flamethrower and strap it to my back. “I’ll be back,” I say and pull that cart with all my might. Soon enough, I get it moving.

As I make my way through the thick mist, my armor covers my face and eyes again. I wish I could pull this cart right to the center of the Zombielands but navigating through all the undead trees and vines wouldn’t work. I’d need to pick up speed and that would mean I’d need a clear path.

A light buzz murmurs inside, and I know it’s magic, so I call it up. When I lift my arms up straight in front of me and then open them up wide, a force leaves me in a rush and all the vines and trees before me move to the sides clearing a path. I take off running, pulling the cart behind me as the vines and branches at my sides fight to reach me, but my magic keeps them at bay. When I reach the center of the Zombielands, Ardie is there.

“We should work our way out from here. Straight lines to the edge,” I say, and he nods and gets started. I do the same. Barrel after barrel we cover enough ground to make sure it all burns. There are still barrels full of oil left over, so we use one to douse all the remaining barrels and the cart—we’ll use that as the detonation point.

“Start running, Ardie. I’ll wait sixty seconds then I’ll light it up and book it out after you.”

He nods and runs back toward Nick, Werelion, and Toto. As I count down sixty seconds, they surround me—zombies of every type—undead insects, birds, trees, zombie apes swinging on vines overhead heading down to the ground, and human zombies who look like the kind in movies back home. They’re grunting, with lavender milky eyes, dragging legs and feet, snarling.

Fifty-nine… Sixty.

Right as they close in on me, I pull the trigger on the flamethrower, and they screech and stumble back as I swing the stream of flames around me in a circle to keep them away. I turn the flame on the cart, and it lights up in an instant. Faster than my mind can think it, I run away barreling through any undead in my path until I am on the other side of the red mist border.

Nick and Werelion are standing at the misty border looking in and something is wrong. I run over and find Ardie trapped by the mist.

“Ardie?”

“I can’t get out,” he says and looks behind him, the fire is spreading and he looks scared.

“Oz!” I shout, calling to him. “Let him out!”

Nothing.

“Get your ass over here right now and let him out!” I command and stomp my booted foot, shaking the ground.

Nothing.

“Screw you, Oz! Don’t you ever ask me for anything ever again!”

How dare he! Ardie, of all zombies, who only came here to help him, and me, and he ignores us now? He sent us here. All of us. If Ardie dies, he will be responsible and I will make him pay for it.

From the soles of my feet I feel it begin—the power from the ground below is mine—I buzz with it, vibrating the power of crimson severity and strength. The barrels blow sky high and the Zombielands ignite.

All the undead creatures rush for the perimeter, swinging out of trees, flying into the mist, but none can get out. Ardie looks behind him as the fire grows and zombies of every kind rush toward him. He looks back at us and then hones in on me and smiles a sad smile that might break my heart if I wasn’t so determined to get him out of there right now. As I draw all of Oz’s power from the rainforest floor beneath my feet, I raise my arm and reach into the misty border when Oz appears in red smoke beside me.

“Please, stop,” he begs.

“Let him out and I will,” I growl.

“If I open the barrier for him, others will escape.”

“Bullshit. I walked through just fine.”

“Your armor.”

“Then why did you insist he come?”

“Because you could not do it alone.”

“You’re disgusting for this. This is selfish and awful, and I won’t let you kill him,” I say and draw more of his power.

“Please, I cannot hold the border if you continue!” he shouts, and Nick grabs my arm in the mist.

“Stop! It will kill Werelion and so many more. Stop, please, Dorothy,” he says, and I stop. I hate he’s right.

“I am sorry,” Oz says and disappears.

“Not good enough!” I call after him, but he’s gone.

The fire is spreading, getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Go!” Ardie shouts to us from the other side of the misty wall. “If you don’t go now, you won’t get away in time.”

“Werelion, Nick, he’s right. Go,” I say.

“You must come with us!”

“My armor is fire proof. I will try to get him out somehow. Go,” I say, and he shakes his head.

“No, Dorothy, I—”

“I said GO!” I say, and he disappears in a puff of red smoke and reappears in a puff of red smoke by our bags. I turn back to Ardie.

“Please go, Dorothy. It’s all for nothing if you do not stay safe.”

“I’m not letting you die here,” I say, more determined than I’ve ever been about anything.

Voiceless words reverberate somewhere so deep inside me I didn’t know it was there. It tells me to stop looking outside myself to connect to the powers of the divine—the gateway lies within me. Whoever is speaking to me shines a beacon of light on a doorway hidden in the dark abyss of an unfathomable depth so deep I’m not sure if it is inside me at all, so I reach deep within and open it.

The moment the gateway unlocks, a rainbow beams from me like a torrent through a breaking dam into the red mist border of the Zombielands and envelops Ardie. Now encased by a vivid rainbow, he floats through the red mist border to my side as the spot where he stood ignites in flames, the undead that surrounded him burning to ash and embers in an instant.

“Dorothy,” Ardie says as he throws his arms around me in a hug. and I hug him back tight, so grateful to have gotten him out.

“Let’s go,” I say as I pull away and look out at the red land before us. Nick and Werelion haven’t gone far. Too loyal for their own good, they hold our bags and carry Toto waiting for us.

“Go! Run,” I roar as the fire combusts behind us and the impact sends us flying forward.

My ears ring and my head pounds, but I scramble to my feet as Ardie does the same, and we run over the rolling carmine hills covered in scarlet vines. Ardie trips so many times, but every time he falls, I pick him back up and we run weaving through the tall rustic red trees covered in flowering vines with torch red blooms.

Everything in this rainforest is one shade of red or another. Even the clouds here are like floating sweet pink puffs sprinkled with the dust of a glittering sunset. And even though the sanguine landscape is undeniably beautiful, it holds a rich, eerie magic that’s severe and ominous, but it still carries the optimism that magic seems to have, like there’s always a possibility of something magnificent on the horizon.

When we make it to Nick and Werelion who have taken cover in a trench with Toto, we jump in with them and drop. Although the ringing in my ears has lessened, I can still barely hear a thing.

“Dorothy!” I hear muffled through my half-deaf ears. I turn my head to see Nick looking at me with worry, and love, and I think maybe pride. My armor reveals my head and I can hear better but still not well enough because his lips are moving but his voice is faint.

“I can’t hear you! The blast messed up my ears,” I shout and his brows furrow. He turns to Ardie and Werelion and says something. Ardie says something back and I just give up—I can’t hear them, and I can’t read lips—so I look up at the sky and notice the sweet pink clouds are now mauve and they’re moving fast toward the Zombielands. If those are what I think they are, we’re in trouble.

“Damn it,” I curse and stand. Nick and Ardie are asking me something but I still can’t hear. “Those are rain clouds, right?” They speak but I still can’t hear. “I can’t hear, so nod yes or no,” I say, and they nod yes. “You can’t put out an oil fire with water. Water makes it worse, makes it spread.” Their eyes widen in alarm. They’re all talking, asking me questions when a far bigger blast throws me down face first into the ground.

When I roll over onto my back, I see it—a massive fire with flames so high in the sky they light up the clouds.

“Stupid moron!” I call out as I stand and watch the red mist border fall and the fire rush toward us. “Smother an oil fire!” I shout. “Bring sand in from the Great Sandy Waste or open the damn ground and swallow it up!” I shout and pick up Toto as the others scramble to their feet. We climb out of the ditch and run as fast as we can away from the fast-spreading fire.

Through the thick, dense trees our feet pound the rainforest floor, and we haul ass putting as much distance between us and the fire as we can. Although I could run far faster than this, I cannot leave my friends behind. But now that I’ve opened the gateway within me, it’s like I have a new instinct that is tickling my senses, so I unleash the power and a rainbow of light lifts us off our feet and flies us away. As the ground beneath our feet cracks open and tumbles into the massive cavernous sinkhole Oz has created, I turn my head to see the burning Zombielands get swallowed up, but the flames are still too high, and they spread faster than the ground below us falls. It’s as though the breaking ground is chasing the fire that’s chasing us.

Cradled by a rainbow, we fly over the rainforest floor, and although we move fast weaving around dense jungle and sharp rocks while running away from fire and unstable ground, I feel comforted, relaxed, loved. It’s as though the colors I have adored from afar for so long are finally here telling me they adore me just the same, and it makes me oddly happy in this strange and terrible situation. So I take a moment to thank the rainbow for saving our lives again.

As we speed away, the ground catches the last of the flames, and the rainbow light that carries us stops right before it runs us right into a pink wall. When it sets us down on our feet, it envelops me before it absorbs into me with a tingling buzz, and I can hear again, no more aches and pains from the explosions, and I know the rainbow healed me.

“Wow,” Ardie breathes.

“You’re even more powerful than Oz,” Werelion muses.

“Ugh, talk about a selfish jerk,” I say in disgust and shake my head.

“Dorothy!” Nick scolds.

“What? Are you afraid of him?”

“You should be too.”

“Well, I’m not. If anyone should be afraid of anyone, it’s him of me. After what he pulled today, shame on him. Shame. On. Him.”

“Don’t say that!” Nick says, worried.

“She is right,” Oz says as he appears in red beside us. “I am sorry I did not prepare for what would occur and was hasty in my requests. I will ask nothing of you again.”

“That is unnecessary,” Nick says. “It is my honor to serve you.”

“Not mine. You can take me off your list of people to use and toss aside when it doesn’t suit you,” I say.

“Werelion is right, you know—you are more powerful than me. You are the most powerful being to enter this realm. I asked for you and you came, and you did what I asked, and I am grateful. Since your arrival, I have made many mistakes, but you fixed every one of them and for that, each of you have my eternal gratitude and my protection. Never again will I step aside and watch you fall. You have my word. As long as you are on my lands, I will do everything I can to protect you, and I will fight by your sides.”

“Thank you,” Ardie says and Werelion and Nick echo his thanks.

“Thank you. All of you. And I hope someday you will forgive me for my offenses,” he says, and I groan, so annoyed.

“Fine,” I grumble. “At least you know how messed up you were.”

“I do, and I promise to always protect you and your offspring. Your forgiveness means more than you know,” he says and fades into mist.

“Can you believe it?” Werelion says.

“What, that he promised to protect you and your offspring? If I were you, I’d believe it when I see it.”

“No, that he said you were more powerful than even he is.”

“The rainbow is—I have access to it for some reason unbeknownst to me, but it’s the rainbow that’s powerful. Oz thinks the rainbow heard his call and brought me here as a vessel for its power.”

“How do you know he thinks this?” Nick asks.

“He told me he thought it this morning.”

“What is this?” Ardie asks with his hand on the pink wall we stand beside.

It’s about two stories tall and seems to go on miles in either direction. The wall has lots of large cracks and coiling scarlet vines with large torch red flowers hang over the top. But when I reach out and swipe my finger down the wall, it leaves a trail of white behind, and I realize the wall isn’t pink—it’s white and covered in red dirt. It feels like porcelain tile. Shines like it too. Odd.

“It’s not on the map,” Nick says as he checks it.

“What do we make of it?” Ardie asks.

“We need to either go around it, over it, or through it. Take your pick,” I say.

“Around it,” Werelion says.

“Then around it we will go. Come on,” I say, and we begin our journey to Glinda’s Castle.

28

The Country of Bisque and Bone

The ground continues to rumble with the goings on beneath the surface—Oz is still putting out that massive fire—and it’s hard to keep steady on our feet. The cracks in the wall to our right grow, and the sound of shattering glass and screams resound.

“What is that?” Werelion says, a tremble in his voice.

None of us have an answer so none of us speak as we make our way along the wall. When we get to the edge, we spotted from the start, we find the wall only curves and goes on for miles and miles more.

“Should we try to climb it?” Ardie asks.

“Let us keep along the wall,” Nick says. “There is a long walk ahead of us still.”

“Are we walking in the right direction, O Holder of the Map?” Ardie says.

“Do you want to hold it?” Nick says, proffering the map to Ardie who snatches it away for dramatic effect.

“Yes, I do, thank you,” he says and looks at it.

“Well? Are we going the wrong way or what?” I ask.

“Yes, and no—we should go south, but we are going south-east.”

“So we must go south-east first then west after,” Ardie says, “but if the wall goes down too far, we could go very much out of our way.”

“The wall could extend all the way to the Great Sandy Waste. Then what? Do we climb over or come back?” Werelion proposes, and he’s right. How long do we walk before we climb over this thing?

“What is that there?” Ardie says, pointing to an opening in the wall—there is a large crack where the wall has broken, and the opening might be big enough for us to fit through.

We hurry over and look through the crack and the sight before us is nothing short of astonishing. And it might be my worst nightmare. Thousands of sinister porcelain dolls hustle about. Some lie in broken piles of themselves, their cracked porcelain faces crying out and whimpering. Other dolls pull porcelain carts and walk over to the shattered dolls, picking up their broken pieces and loading them up. They’re all no taller than my knee, and most of them have cracks patched with charcoal gray caulk-like material. Colorful designs adorn their porcelain clothes and faces, each made to look like a princess or a prince or a shepherd or a clown, but they are grimy, broken, with mismatched limbs placed askew or a cracked hole where their nose should be.

Porcelain buildings line the walls throughout the seemingly endless space in a makeshift grid. A porcelain doll country that is the makings of nightmares. Their eyes are pink and scarlet and other shades of unnatural red, and many of them have broken parts that look as though someone put them back together wrong.

“Who are you? What do you want?” we hear a little voice shout from below. When I look down, I find the most terrifying doll I’ve ever seen looking up at us with an angry snarl and neon pink eyes. Only as high as my knee, she’s got a dark brown blunt cut bob wig on and it’s knotted and frizzy and off-center on her cracked head. She holds two porcelain swords, one in each hand, and she bares her razor-sharp porcelain teeth at us. On her pink coat from the neck are streams of dried blood, as if she slit the baby’s throat who was wearing it and took it for herself, never even bothering to wash the thing. Werelion screams and jumps back at the sight of her.

“What is this place?” Ardie asks.

“Country of Bisque and Bone. Who are you and what do you want? We’re in the middle of a crisis here and I haven’t got all day,” she snaps.

“We are on our way to Glinda’s Castle,” Nick says.

“That’s due south,” she says when the ground rumbles again and a building not too far off cracks and crumbles. Doll screams echo off the porcelain walls. “Get the carts! Start grinding!” she calls out to other dolls scrambling about. “Look, you must go around. That shifter is far too big to come in here without causing more damage and we’re in a sockdolager of a situation as you can see. So, skedaddle, will ya?”

“How far does this wall go?” Nick asks.

“To the Great Sandy Waste,” she says and turns to the dolls hustling about around her trying to deal with the damage and save their friends. She calls to a maiden and a shepherdess with bright red and pink bodices and covered in mended cracks trying to lift a large piece of porcelain off another shattered doll. “Bring in the pulleys! You can’t lift that yourselves!”

“What about in the other direction?” Nick asks.

“Emerald Forest.”

“How does no one know you’re here?” Ardie asks baffled.

“No one comes this way. Look, you’ve got to go. I can’t keep standing here blocking your way and you can’t come in here with your giant oafish bodies, so leave. Now!”

“All right, we’re leaving,” Werelion says and walks away.

“No, wait!” I say, remembering I changed my size once. Maybe I can do it again for all of us. “If we were smaller, would you let us through to the other side?” I ask her.

“How much smaller?”

“Your size?”

“Yeah, I could do that, but you’d need an escort.”

“Okay, give me a second,” I say and turn to Nick. “I think I can do it.”

“So, do it,” he says with an encouraging smile.

“Huddle up guys.” Ardie and Werelion step in closer to Nick and me.

Accessing the open gateway inside me becomes easier each time I do it. The rainbow emanates from me, surrounds my friends, and we watch as the porcelain world before us grows to the size of a metropolis. After a short moment, I stand eye to eye with the scary doll.

“You’re the Rainbow Witch we have heard about. You destroyed both Vampire Witches.”

Rainbow Witch? I don’t hate that title, but I prefer Dorothy.

“Call me Dorothy. This is Nick, Ardie, Werelion, and Toto.”

“Princess Wawa, but just call me Wawa. Come on,” she says and leads us inside, wobbling on one broken high heeled foot.

At their height, the horror of what they are dealing with is far more disturbing. Every doll shows signs of being broken at some point, but some shattered because of the seismic activity, and they are being loaded into carts and hurried away. I wonder where.

“Where are they taking the broken dolls?”

“We are not dolls! We are the Bisque People.”

“Sorry,” I say.

“They are taking them to the bone shop for repairs.”

“The bone shop?” I ask, and she points to a tall building with a tarnished silver grinding mechanism at its side and Bisque People are feeding a human femur into it—the grinding sound sends shivers up and down my spine.

“Bisque People comprise bone, crystal, and clay. When we crack or break, bones, crystal, and clay are the materials used to make those repairs. We grind the bones of the dead, mix it with Quadling crystals and Quadling clay to seal up our cracks and reform our lost limbs.”

“Bones of the dead?” Werelion asks with a tremble.

“Yes,” she says, her big neon pink eyes glinting and her sharp toothed smile the most sinister I have ever seen.

“Where do you get the bones?” Nick asks.

“The Zombielands. Not zombies, shifters, or vampires can infect us, so our scouts collect the bones of their prey. There are a lot of stupid animals out there that wander right in.”

“That’s a human femur,” I point out.

“Humans are animals too.”

“Got me there.”

“Oz swallowed up the Zombielands. That’s why the ground is quaking,” Ardie tells her and her neon pink eyes widen.

“Look at what we have here?” says the creepiest clown doll I’ve ever seen. As he approaches us, his cracked head gyrating on his neck as his ball-jointed appendages wobble every which way, I can’t help but gape at him in horror. While his bright red eyes glint with sinister thoughts, the painted-on smile over his carved sharp teeth and black painted diamonds around his eyes give me the serious willies. “What are you looking at?” he snaps at me.

“Leave her alone, Joker. That’s the Rainbow Witch. Madden her and she might crack you for good,” she says, and his evil eyes widen as the ground rumbles and quakes and the building to our right cracks.

We all look up as the crack grows and the building breaks and falls to pieces over our heads. In an instant, rainbow mist rushes out of me and surrounds the building as it falls, putting it back together again. Wawa looks at me with her neon pink eyes wide and says, “Can you do that for the rest of this place?”

“I don’t know. I can try.”

“Please do,” she says.

As I reach down into my power, I imagine all the broken pieces reforming and unleash a prismatic pulse of rainbow mist that fills the space. After a moment, it clears revealing a pristine, crack-free porcelain city. All the Bisque People are brand new with a Dorothy twist—I may have done a little redecorating.

Princess Wawa now looks as badass as she is with a riot grrrl edge that suits her personality far better. She’s got holsters for her knives, a bob like the lead singer of Bratmobile—curled under at the chin with the short Betty Page bangs—and a pair of porcelain combat boots instead of those cracked high heel shoes that make her wobble when she walks. Everything has a different color scheme with a lot more blacks and reds, but now when they get covered in grime it’ll look cool. Even though I also repaired the Joker, the darker edge just makes him look scarier, and that might be a necessity in Oz.

“What did you do to me?” Princess Wawa asks as she looks at herself.

“I fixed your cracks and gave you a new look. If you hate it, I can try to fix it—” I say, and she cuts me off.

“It’s as though you saw inside me and made me what I have always been but was too broken to realize,” she says as other Bisque People come and surround us.

“What happened?” I hear repeated in the crowd.

“The Rainbow Witch has healed our country! Hail, Dorothy!” Princess Wawa shouts and raises her sword. All the Bisque People gathered around follow suit, raising their fists as they bow their heads and shout, “Hail, Dorothy!”

“Oh, no, it was no trouble,” I say, so uncomfortable.

Hailing is weird. What is that anyway? Maybe it’s good that I’m leaving because I’d make a terrible queen. I’ve learned a lot about myself on this journey, and one of those things is that I dislike being bowed to.

“Enough of the bowing, please,” I beg, and they start to stand upright. “I’ve done something for you I hope helps you in your lives. I’m not sure if it worked, but I suppose you’ll find out soon enough. What I tried to do was make you unbreakable,” I say, and they all gasp and cheer. “But there’s a catch,” I add, and they quiet. “As long as you are good-hearted with good intentions, you will remain unbreakable, but if you are evil or become evil, you will no longer have that privilege.”

“Thank you,” Princess Wawa says as a red crystal tear falls from her neon pink eye.

The ground rumbles again, but this time, nothing breaks.

When the rumbling stops, everyone cheers and shouts, “Hail, Dorothy!” and “Long live the Rainbow Witch!”

“All right! Make a hole!” Princess Wawa shouts and shoos away the crowd to let us through. “They are on their way to Glinda’s Castle and need to get to the other side of town.”

“Take the trolley! It’s faster,” says a prince doll that looks like a porcelain David Bowie wearing a gold leaf crown.

Wawa leads the way through the crowd of Bisque People, their little footsteps clinking on the porcelain floor as they shuffle aside to let us through. When we arrive at the trolley stop, so does the trolley, and my rainbow magic decorated it like a riot grrrl zine with ‘Bisquemobile’ written on the side. We hop on and the crowd follows us and waves goodbye as we trolley away.

Through the Country of Bisque and Bone, the trolley speeds past bone shops and grind houses, careens around apartment blocks, winds through porcelain parks and gardens, and zips by bisque farms where bisque milkmaids milk bisque cows. Even with everything I’ve seen since I arrived, this may be the most mindboggling. When we reach the far wall, the trolley comes to a screeching halt.

Princess Wawa jumps off and we deboard after her. This side is so different from the other—it’s an eerie gothic suburbia. Gothic style porcelain houses with porcelain wolves growling at us from their porcelain lawns behind tall black porcelain fences that line the roads. Toto barks and growls his most intimidating growl. The bisque wolves stop growling and whimper away.

“Here you go!” Princess Wawa says as she shows us a large vaulted door in the porcelain wall. “The way out of our minacious country.”

“Thanks, Wawa,” I say, and she smiles, her sharp teeth twinkling in the light.

“Thank you, Rainbow Witch. We are indebted to you,” she says and turns the wheel on the door three times before it opens.

Once we say goodbye, we step outside to find maroon marshes and cerise swamplands for miles. I use my rainbow magic to bring us back to our normal size, and we make our way into the humid quagmire beginning our long trek to Glinda’s Castle.

29

The Shifter King

After hours upon hours of falling in muddy holes while climbing through bogs and marshes covered in burgundy grass so tall it hid us from sight, we reached solid ground—a forest of thick wine tree trunks with lush cherry moss and blackberry leaves growing out of crimson soil speckled with ruby crystals.

Werelion fell in love with the place straightaway, unlike Ardie who finds all the red far too severe. He says he prefers the greens of Emerald but I find all the monochromatic landscapes of this realm to be surreal. If you combined the spookiness of Halloween with the lusty reds of Valentine’s Day you’d get the feeling this forest gives me.

When it gets dark, we stop and camp for the night then wake up early with the sunrise. After a quick breakfast, we pack and go on our way again, but soon into our hike we come upon a clearing surrounded by trees and within it is a gathering of shifters. Lots and lots of shifters—birds, wolves, rabbits and rodents of all kinds, bear shifters, even lizards and turtles—and at the front of the massive group standing on a ruby dais is a female peregrine falcon shifter with no clothing on at all and a rocking bod.

“Wow,” Werelion breathes as we step closer to watch and listen.

“We have to leave! It’s not safe!” someone calls out from the group.

“No,” the falcon shifter says with a firm stare. “This forest is ours.”

“It killed our King!” someone else calls out.

“And everyone else who’s tried to kill it!” another shouts.

“Are you all so weak, so ignoble that none of you want to be King?”

“No,” Werelion calls out, shocking the hell out of me.

The falcon looks out toward us and spots Werelion and then us at his side.

“Who are you, shifter? And why did you bring humans and a zombie into our forest?”

“Call me Werelion,” he says as he steps forward through the crowd, right up to the stone dais where she stands and walks right up to her. He towers over her, although he towers over everyone—Werelion is enormous.

With her eyes wide at the sight of him, she looks up at his face and says, “I am the Shifter Queen, Shahina,” and Werelion bows, bending down on one knee and lowering his head before her, and somehow, he is still far taller. “Please, stand. What brings you this way?”

“We are traveling to see Glinda, the Red Witch. This is Dorothy, the Rainbow Witch, and her animal Toto,” he says and the crowd gasps. “Emperor Nick Chopper of Winkie Land and the Wise Zombie Millard, Ruler of Emerald.”

“Did you say the ruler of Emerald? The Wizard rules Emerald.”

“The Wizard has gone away into the clouds and left the Wise Zombie in charge in his stead. Now what is your trouble?”

“There is a great threat to Shifter Forest. A threat that murdered our King—my brother, Balam—and everyone who has hunted his murderer has lost their life. Whoever dares to kill the thing that kills so many of us will be our new King, but it already took the bravest among us with its venomous jaws.”

“Another shifter?”

“We do not think so.”

“It’s not a shifter!” a female Bengal tiger shifter shouts as she walks up from the crowd.

“How do you know this?” Werelion asks.

“With my own eyes I saw it. What Shahina says is true—we are all threatened by a fierce enemy. It is a great spider with eight legs as long as a tree trunk and a body as big as an elephant. As the monster crawls through the forest, it seizes shifters by their legs and drags them to his mouth, where he eats them as a spider does a fly. Not one of us is safe while this creature is alive, and we had called a meeting to decide how to take action when you came among us.”

A pensive look takes over Werelion’s mien before he says, “Are there any other werelions in this forest?” he asks.

“No. There were some, but the monster has eaten them all. And, besides, they were none of them so large and brave as you,” Shahina says.

“If I put an end to your enemy, you say you will obey me as King of the Forest?”

“We will,” returns the tigress shifter, and all the other beasts agree by cawing or roaring a mighty roar. “We need a King who is brave, strong, and fierce. If you kill the creature, there is no doubt you are the King we need, but beware—this is no ordinary creature.”

“Where is this great spider of yours now?” asks Werelion.

“Yonder, among the redwood trees,” says Shahina, pointing with her wing.

“I will go fight the monster,” he announces.

The crowd of shifters roar and caw and hiss their approval as he steps off the dais and makes his way toward us at the back of the crowd with the falcon and tigress shifters at his back.

When he stops before us, he says, “Wait here for me, and if I do not return by morning, go on without me.”

“Uh, we’re going with you,” I say, befuddled he would think otherwise.

“But you cannot—I must do this on my own,” Werelion insists.

“Why would you—” Nick starts and Werelion cuts him off.

“If I am to be their King, they must know I was the one who defeated the monster. Not you or Dorothy or Ardie, but me and me alone.”

“He is right—he must go alone to claim the throne,” Shahina says, and I can see the tigress shifter clench in irritation—it’s clear she disagrees.

“Is that true?” I ask the tigress, and she sighs.

“Yes, but it is foolish.”

“Do not worry for me,” Werelion says to her. “I will defeat the monster.”

Confident and assured, Werelion turns and walks into the redwoods without a goodbye as if he has complete faith no harm will come to him, but I’m not so sure.

“If it pleases you, you may make camp here among us while you wait,” Shahina says with a soft smile.

We thank her and she walks over to a group of bird shifters waiting a few feet away, and when she reaches them, they run off into the ruby and red rock formations at our backs.

“If you dare go, you should,” the tigress shifter says to us in a low voice.

“We cannot ruin his chance to become King,” Ardie says.

“If he is dead, it will not matter either way, will it?”

“She’s right,” I say. “We can just follow him. Just in case. We don’t have to interfere unless it’s required.”

“I think that is the best way,” Nick agrees.

“Right,” Ardie sighs, and after a moment, he nods in assent.

“Follow his tracks, but if you lose him, he will find the creature in a web it has built at the base of the mountain just inside a cave mouth about two ozmeters southwest of here.”

“Thank you. I’m Dorothy.”

“I am Onna,” she says with a polite smile, but it is clear Werelion going alone worries her. “You should go,” she says with pleading eyes, and we take her advice and hurry after Werelion, into the trees.

* * *

Werelion’s tracks disappeared a half hour ago, but thanks to Toto’s bloodhound nose, he’s led us right to the monster’s cave at the base of the mountain, and that means Werelion is somewhere around here. I only hope it has not caught him in its web already.

“Is that it?” Ardie asks in a whisper, pointing to the cave mouth on the face of the ruby mountain, just where Onna said it would be.

When she called it a cave mouth, I wasn’t sure if that was what you call a cave opening in my realm, but I see why she used that word now—it’s an actual mouth on an actual face. But the face is not human—it’s the face of a spider with eight eyes, those pincher things, long fangs, and a tube mouth that is this cave opening. Ugh. I hate spiders.

As Toto trots toward the cave he stops and sniffs the air. The cave is about fifty feet ahead and Toto seems unsure of where to go from here.

“Where to next, Toto?” Ardie asks him.

Toto takes a few steps forward, sniffs the ground, then he turns his head toward the cave so fast it’s obvious he’s heard something none of our ears can hear. At first, I think he might have caught Werelion’s scent again, but then he growls a low warning. In an instant, a large sticky strawberry colored stream of what I’m sure is a red spider’s silk shoots out of the ruby spider cave and covers my Toto before it snatches him back into the cave with force.

“Toto!” I scream as Toto flies into the mouth of the spider cave.

As my armor covers all of me in a blink, I speed forward and another thick stream of sticky strawberry spider’s silk shoots out at me striking my torso. I grab the cord and pull it with all my might, knowing how strong spider’s silk is, and I try to drag it out of the cave so I can kill the thing before it kills Toto.

Nick rushes over, axes drawn, ready to chop the stream of silk, and I shout for him to stop, “Don’t!”

Midair, he stops his swing and looks at me with his brows drawn in confusion, but then he notices me pulling on the silk and he drops his axes, wraps his arms around the silk, and pulls with me. Soon after, Ardie joins in, and we heave with all our might dragging this wretched spider from its cave.

First its head emerges, and it is huge with one row of four big eyes and a row above with four smaller eyes, all iridescent crimson with a reflective burgundy sheen. Its fur is a vibrant candy apple red with a black baccara rose stripe down the center of its head. Its red fangs are at least a foot long and bloodied. If that’s Toto’s blood, I swear I will gut this thing.

We yank so hard it comes out of the cave altogether sniveling, pushing back with legs as long as a short city block—it’s a red tiger spider the size of a brownstone, coarse red hairs cover its body, and its head joins to the pudgy backside with a neck as slender as a wasp’s waist. As it lengthens its silk, we pull harder faster while running backwards to keep it from retreating into its cave. With the stealth of a leopard, Werelion flies in from above jumping down onto the back of the colossal red tiger spider. And with his giant paws and sharp claws, he slices the spider at its slender neck. Its head falls off and flies forward as we pull, and we land on our butts as both halves of the giant spider go limp.

As my armor shrinks back into my boots, it releases the spider’s silk at my torso, and we scramble to get into the cave. If Toto is dead, I don’t know what I’ll do. Werelion is the first one inside and I enter right after him. The gateway within me opens and my rainbow magic lights up the space. All at once I gasp in horror and sigh in relief. Toto is alive, cocooned in the strawberry-colored spider’s silk and stuck in an elaborate web of massive proportions. Bones lie scattered everywhere, and in the web are other shifters, cocooned and paralyzed, perhaps already dead. Werelion uses his claw to cut Toto loose, opening up his spider silk cocoon, taking him out, and giving him a cuddle. Toto barks and I sigh with relief as I take him out of Werelion’s hands and hold him tight to me.

“Oh, Toto, I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling so guilty I wasn’t more cautious—I should have been holding him.

He licks my chin and cheek and I kiss his head as Werelion cuts down the other shifters cocooned in the web with Ardie and Nick’s help.

“What are you doing here?” Werelion asks as he removes the last shifter from the web.

“We followed you,” I say.

“Why?” Werelion asks, irritated. “I told you to stay behind.”

“For just in case.”

“Now they will think you helped me kill it.”

“No, they won’t,” Onna says as she enters the cave, “because I saw the entire thing. You saved their lives, the lives of every shifter in that web, and every shifter in this forest. I witnessed it myself. You are very brave. There is no one more worthy to be our king.”

“Why are you here?”

“I have seen far too many brave shifters fall to that beast, so I told your friends to go after you, and I knew you would need a witness to claim the throne, so I followed them.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I told you not to worry for me. I would have been fine on my own.”

“It seems so. Thank you, Werelion.”

The way they’re looking at each other is making me feel as though I’m intruding on a private moment, so I turn away and gaze further into the dim ruby cave. And holy crap, that’s a problem.

“Guys,” I say but no one pays attention—Nick and Ardie help shifters to their feet, although most cannot walk. “Guys,” I say louder, getting their attention. “I think we have a problem.”

I point to the giant egg sack toward the back of the massive cavern and Onna gasps.

“Oh, my!” she breathes.

“Somebody had to fertilize those eggs—that means there’s another spider.”

“What do we do?” Onna says, her tiger eyes wide with worry.

“Light it up,” I suggest.

“The fire could spread,” Ardie says.

“Maybe I can contain it at the cave mouth.”

“What if you can’t?” Nick suggests.

“Then that would suck,” I say with a baffled laugh. What’s that supposed to mean? “This magic has been working for me. I think I can figure out something that’d work.”

“Like what?” Werelion asks. “Because Nick is right—you have never done it before, and if you cannot, the fire could spread, destroy the homes of many shifters, and take many lives in an instant.”

“Once we set it on fire, I could close it up.”

“Are you sure?” Werelion presses, and I have to admit, I’m not.

“No, I’m not, but I have faith I can do it.”

“What is faith?” Ardie asks.

“Faith? It’s like a strong belief in something you can’t be sure of.”

“Oh,” Ardie says with a nod of recognition. “Here, the word we use for that is foolishness,” he says, and a huffed laugh escapes me.

“Yeah, maybe that’d be a better word to describe it.”

“How about we burn the egg sack only and be ready to put it out? I can use the leather shoes you made me to stomp out the fire,” Werelion says.

“That could work,” I say and pass Toto to Ardie, go to my bag of weapons, take out the flamethrower, and hand it to Werelion. With Toto in one arm, Ardie helps a shifter bird to his feet and heads out of the cave. Nick goes into Werelion’s sack, takes out the leather booties and hands them to him, then carries our things out of the cave.

“You should join the others outside,” Werelion says to Onna. She smiles, helps a bear shifter to his feet, and heads out with a look back to Werelion.

When she’s out of the cave, I turn to him and say, “She likes you,” and he blushes so hotly his cheeks get rosy from behind his fur, and I can’t help but giggle at him.

Nick returns, lifts a hyena shifter off the ground, and carries him out of the cave. No one is here but me, Werelion, and a giant sack of nasty gross spider eggs the size of a beanbag chair. If Werelion wasn’t so huge, I’d say this was a bad idea.

“You should go too. They might squirt when I stomp them.”

“Ugh! Gross,” I say and shudder with severe disgust.

“Go on.”

“No, I’m not leaving you,” I say as I calm the willies running up and down my entire body.

“Neither am I,” Nick says as he steps in beside me. “This part we will do together.”

“Thanks,” Werelion whispers as he puts on his booties. I know he’s as creeped out as we are, but he’s being so courageous, and it makes me proud.

He stands upright and aims. “Get ready to run,” he says right before he pulls the trigger.

The stream of flame ignites the gigantic egg sack, and Werelion lets go of the trigger. We watch it burn for a moment until Werelion steps closer, and when he lifts his leg to stomp it out, the sack bursts open. Close to fifty flaming spiders scurry from the sack running across the floor and up the cave walls in an instant. Werelion screams and I think I do too. The spiders are the size of dinner plates, and Nick and Werelion stomp on every one that comes close.

We hurry to the cave mouth as fast as we can while the flaming spiders run and screech, igniting the strawberry spider’s silk, and the cave goes up in flames.

As we bolt out of the cave mouth, I reach into my rainbow magic and beam my prismatic mist onto the mountain face, and we watch as the hole closes up. Nick and Werelion stomp out the few spiders that escaped and together we all stomp out the little fires they left in their wake.

When the last bit of flame is out, we take a collective breath of relief. Werelion scrambles to remove his now burned and gooey booties, and when he tosses the last one to the forest floor, I discover where the second spider is. From the face of the mountain, a colossal ruby tiger spider emerges, its gemstone feet clunking on the ground before us. We all scramble backwards, and I shout to all the shifters we just saved, “Run!”

The peregrine falcon shifter takes off, picking up the passed-out hyena shifter in its talons, and flies away as the other shifters bolt. All except Onna, who hurries to Werelion’s side.

“Dorothy,” Ardie says as he gets closer to me, still holding Toto, “Now would be the time to have some of that faith you speak of.”

“It sure would,” I say and reach into the rainbow gateway within me, unsure of what to do but knowing I need to do it fast.

The giant ruby tiger spider, at least three times as big as the first spider, comes toward us with its ruby fangs on display. A stream of hot red crystal shoots out from its mouth like a geyser of lava straight for us. We all dive to the sides of its stream, and I think it’s clear it was aiming right for me—it must know I’m responsible for its cave closing. My rainbow power bubbles up within me as I stand and face off with it, molten ruby crystal hardening at my side. Rainbow mist pulses from me and I sense a stream of water deep below the mountain, so I call it up as I leech the red mist magic from the ground. It strengthens me, focuses me, and I know what I need to do to defeat this crystal beast.

The stream explodes from the ground beneath the ruby spider, lifting it off its ruby feet, engulfing the monster in a giant water bubble that reflects rainbow in the sunlight. As the ground seals up again, the water in the bubble boils. The spider struggles, its longs legs twitching and scrambling, but all its struggling is to no avail. Power rushes from me and surrounds the bubble, so much power, but the source feels endless, as if I could never exhaust it.

The boiling bubbles change from large to tiny as it gives off waves of heat, and the crystal spider goes from red ruby to clear prismatic quartz before it combusts, shattering into thousands upon thousands of tiny pieces. The large water bubble moves toward the mountain face where the cave once was and pops. As the clear rainbow crystals merge with the ruby mountain, the water spills cascading down the mountain face onto the red forest floor. And before our eyes, a likeness of a winged male angel with a rainbow halo, a muscular torso, straight nose, and strong jaw emerges chiseled from the mountain in the spider’s place.

“That must be the one who gives you magic,” Nick says.

“You think?” I say, in awe of the creature depicted in ruby and rainbow crystal before us.

“I do.”

“He’s hot,” I say, and Nick lets out a chuckle as he shakes his head at me. Once we gather our things, we head back to the center of Shifter Forest.

Even though I joke about it, I am so grateful for this being—if it is a being—who brought me here and helped me through. Overwhelming gratitude resonates inside me and the rainbow within speaks without a voice. It tells me destiny and love joins us—we are a part of each other and always will be. Destiny ties us together for eternity. In our union, we are the purest love, the greatest strength, the most striking beauty, and the mightiest force—together we are every shade of every color throughout the realms.

Something about my connection to something like an angel, or even a rainbow, gives me a sense of contentment and peace I’ve never had until now, and although I could never know it to be certain, having faith it is true makes me feel more myself than I ever have. If that’s foolish, I’m fine with it.

The walk back to the shifter’s camp is short, and when we arrive, we find all the shifters surrounding the ones we freed from the web. They are tending to their wounds and ailments, feeding them, and bandaging them up. When they notice us, their eyes wide, shocked we returned, Werelion says, “You need fear your enemy no longer.”

After a moment of stunned silence, all the shifters bow, kneeling to him with their heads lowered in respect.

Shahina stands upright from the center of the crowd. Beside her is the male peregrine falcon shifter we pulled from the web.

“You did not defeat the spider yourself. The Rainbow Witch did it,” Shahina says, and it’s clear that shifter is the King they thought the spider murdered.

“That is not true,” Onna says, confident and self-possessed, unafraid of the self-proclaimed shifter queen, and she tells the story just how it happened, but Shahina is still unsatisfied.

“Is it or is it not true that when she sealed the cave, the spider reemerged and attacked, but only the Rainbow Witch defeated it.”

“No, it is not true,” says Onna. “The spider that emerged was not the spider who ensnared our people. The spider on the mountain was the Uttu, and we all know only magic could have defeated the Uttu. I watched her do it with my own eyes and if it weren’t for Werelion’s unsurpassed bravery, the Rainbow Witch may not have been alive to destroy the Uttu once and for all. In its place is now a mighty bird shifter cradled by a rainbow. The witch gave us a gift and we should thank not only her but the Courageous and Magnificent Werelion for protecting us all.”

“To claim the throne—” Shahina starts and Onna cuts her off.

“He had to defeat the monster who was attacking our people, and he did. Its body lay in two at the foot of the mountain. See for yourself.”

“But—”

“Enough, Shahina,” her brother commands. “No other shifter is as ferocious, strong, or brave as he. I have been king for too long. I am old now. It is time for a new king, and there is no better shifter than Werelion to lead us.”

“Hail Werelion! King of the Shifters!” Onna says, and the shifters call out in their animal sounds as they bow down to Werelion as their king.

“Upon returning Dorothy to the civilized realm from which she hails, I will come back and rule over you. But for now, we must go to see the Red Witch,” Werelion says, and we bade them goodbye and continue on our journey to Glinda’s Castle.

30

The Redwoman Army

In no time at all, we emerged from the red forest into farmlands of red barns and coral grass with rubies jutting out of the ground in hexagonal clusters and strewn about like pebbles. Although it’s midday, no one is out. I can feel their presence though, feel their eyes on us as we walk southwest toward Glinda’s Castle past farmhouse after farmhouse painted every shade of red. It’s as though no one wants us to know they’re inside. I suppose I can’t blame them—we are a scary-looking group. So, we press on, snacking as we walk to avoid stopping for lunch, and before the sun sets, we make it to the outskirts of a large valley.

On the other side of the valley atop the mountain’s ridge stands Glinda’s Castle. It’s a city unto itself comprising carved and faceted rubies. Some walls are as sheer as rose-colored glass while other parts of the Castle are opaque and look like red and pink marble.

If the Emerald Palace is like the Palace at Versailles, then Glinda’s Castle is like Neuschwanstein on steroids. And like Emerald Palace, Glinda’s Castle oozes sparkling red magic—incarnadine mist twinkles as it cascades off the ridge—but unlike Emerald City, the magic doesn’t reach the valley.

Populated with houses and buildings built from red colored wood and red brick with ruby tinted windows, red brownstones line the brick roads each with their own unique shade of red or pink. Where the streets intersect, their colored bricks stagger. Flowers line every street and cover every tree in blooms. Flowers fill every yard, and flower gardens border the valley. Some might think it teeters into the overkill category, but from above—so many blooms mixed with the grid of vivid colored brick roads lined with buildings of matching shades—it looks like the Flower of Life pattern in pixels of reds and pinks.

“Look at that,” Ardie says at my side as he looks off the crest of the mountain.

“Who are you and what is your business here?” a female voice booms from behind us.

We turn our heads to find three teenage girls at our backs appraising us with severe eyes. Each soldier girl wears a crimson military uniform and heavy red leather combat boots. Unlike the uniforms of Emerald City with long-skirted coats and ornate decorations, these are slim fitting and look as though the girls who wear them might fight in them.

“Hi, I’m Dorothy. This is Nick Chopper, Emperor of Winkie Land; Werelion, King of Shifter Forest; The Wise Zombie Millard, Ruler of Emerald; And this is Toto, my dog. We came to see Glinda—we must speak with her.”

“Walk,” the blonde in the front commands, her full lips pressed in a firm line, and the other teenage soldiers look just as stern behind her.

“Sure, not a problem,” I say and start walking in the direction they nudge us toward. And we all descend the mountain walking the narrow path along the ridge.

Soon we come to a staircase of red brick, so we take it down to the foot of the mountain and into the valley. We walk through town in silence passing homes and apartments, delis and bakeries, markets and shops, clothing boutiques, even a department store. When we reach the foot of the mountain at the other side, we come to another staircase of red brick. We climb it to the top and come out into a courtyard filled with battalions of teenage girl soldiers in red uniforms, marching in formation, sparring, running laps, and behind the massive courtyard is Glinda’s Castle.

With their swords poking at our backs, they push us over to a redheaded woman with painted red lips in her mid-twenties wearing a military uniform. As we approach, a look of surprise takes over her symmetrical face.

“Do not move,” the blonde soldier commands and steps away. She hurries over to the redheaded woman and whispers in her ear, but her stern expression gives nothing away. She gives the blonde an order and approaches us while the blonde hurries into the castle.

“What is your business with Glinda?” the redhead asks.

“I’m hoping she can help me return to my realm.”

“Are you the witch who fell from the sky?”

“That’s me.”

“The one who’s been going around assassinating witches?”

“Vampire Witches,” Nick corrects.

“The first was an accident, and the second was by order of the Wizard. He promised to return me to my realm if I did it, so I did, and then he left to visit his wizard brother in the sky, so I’ve come here to ask if Glinda can send me home. If she can, great. If she can’t, fine.”

“Not fine,” Nick says.

“Whatever, just tell her we’re here, please,” I say, tired of her looking at me with narrowed eyes, and I don’t appreciate being accused of showing up to kill her. If that’s why I came, I wouldn’t tell her who I was then would I?

“Do I look like a messenger?” she sneers.

“Yeah, you kind of do,” I say, and she narrows her eyes at me. “Perhaps you should introduce yourself.”

“General Titiana, and I need no formal introduction to any of you.”

“You have terrible manners,” I say with disdain—I can’t stand rudeness.

Good manners are how we show others respect. Without them, you are disrespecting the people around you. At least that’s what Aunt Em always says. I tend to agree, because being on the other end of this rude woman makes me feel as though she is disrespecting me, and it rubs me the wrong way.

She huffs a light laugh and says, “I’ve heard that before,” she says and shrugs.

“It’s amazing you’re still alive,” I say with a threatening grin just like hers.

The blonde soldier returns and whispers in the General’s ear.

“Attention!” the General shouts, and every soldier stops and kneels, lowering their heads.

The massive front doors of the castle fly open and out comes Glinda in a beautiful red silk gown beaded with actual rubies. Her vibrant dark red hair is curled to perfection and adorned with ruby-studded combs in a style straight out of an old movie starring Rita Hayworth or Ginger Rogers. When she spots us, she smiles bright as she beelines over.

“Ah, you must be the Kansas girl I’ve been hearing so much about,” she says as though she knows where Kansas is.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, isn’t it just ducky you came! Come! Come in,” she says as she turns and heads back inside waving for us to follow.

We follow Glinda into her ruby castle as I pray she has no clue how to send me home, because if she does I could leave Nick in minutes, and I know I’m not prepared for that. Not in the slightest.

31

The Red Witch

“It’s nice to meet a fellow American in these parts,” she says as she saunters down a long ruby corridor with us following along.

Astounded, although I don’t know why, I ask, “You’re from my realm? How did you get here?”

“Plane if you can believe it. Back then I was an aviator. Well, it was a hobby—I was an archeologist by trade. When I was in East Africa with the tribes of Mount Kenya—the Kikuyu, the Embu, Meru, and so on and so forth—I took off in my plane, got caught in a storm, stuck in an air current, tossed around for at least a day, and when I landed, it was right here on this mountain. It amazed me to find I had magical powers of all things. How about you?” Glinda says as she walks us through her giant ruby castle.

“A definite shock, but the boots started it.”

When she looks down at my feet, her eyes widen.

“Ah! You have them now! Oh, good to know Gayelette hasn’t gotten her grubby mitts on them.”

“The Vampire Witch of the East wore them,” Ardie says.

“Yes, well, Gayelette stole them from me first.”

“The vampire bat monkeys said they were yours first,” I say.

“They sure were. They’re yours now. What a cute little bloodhound,” Glinda says and pets Toto who licks her hand hello.

“His name is Toto.”

“Isn’t it strange they have so many animals but no dogs? Werewolves they have, but no dogs.”

“Yeah, why is that?”

“Dogs just didn’t evolve from wolves here. Cats are the only domesticated animals in the realm and very few people have pets. Cats just show up and decide they are living in your house and you are feeding them. Some people keep them around and some don’t.”

“Weird.”

“Very,” she says as we approach a rose-colored crystal door. “This lift will take you to your rooms. After such a long trip, I’m sure you want to rest. Transportation is not up to par around here, but they don’t have the infrastructure to do it. Magic does the job, but still, your gams must be tired,” she says as the doors slide open to the round, translucent ruby elevator that looks out over the valley and the courtyard.

We step inside and Glinda looks at us with a bright smile from the other side.

“Relax, rest, rejuvenate, and I will have food sent to your rooms tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll have breakfast together. Sound good?”

“Yeah, great. Thanks,” I say, and she gives me a wink.

“If you need anything, just holler. Night-night!” she says and saunters off down the corridor.

When the door to the elevator slides closed, the round crystal rose room detaches and lifts into the air, floats around the exterior of the castle, up several floors, and when it gets to an ornate tower, it reattaches to the outer wall before the door slides open.

We step out into a grand suite the size of a large house. The room we enter is round with pink wallpaper, platinum moldings, and a spiral ruby staircase.

“The bedrooms must be up the stairs,” Ardie says and we all climb the staircase.

Each floor is its own room, and Nick and I take the room at the very top.

As we unload our bags, I try not to break down. I’ve suppressed my emotions for this entire journey, but I feel like I might burst. If I look at him, I will unravel. Thoughts of leaving him, of never seeing him again, spin in my mind. The thought of living my life in safety and misery while he meets a beautiful girl, then another, and another, knowing soon enough I’ll be a faint memory eats away at my insides. He wouldn’t forget me, but he will move on, and I know I never will. Deep in my bones, in everything I am, I know he is my one chance at true love, and I miss him already.

“Dorothy?” he says behind me.

“Yeah,” I croak out, unable to turn and face him. As my eyes well up with tears, I take a deep breath hoping to stifle them.

“Dorothy,” he says, now right behind me, his hands running down my arms. When his arms reach around and hug me to him, I melt into his body, my hands caressing his strong arms as they hold me, and he says into my ear, “I love you, and I always will. Every minute of every day…” His voice breaks, and that’s it—I can’t hold it in a second longer. All the tears gush out of me, and he holds me tighter to him, “I will miss you, but I will be happy knowing you are safe and living a beautiful life. Live a beautiful life, Dorothy, for me.”

“Nick,” I say as I turn to face him, a total wreck, and he kisses me.

Love and deep sadness and something inside me screaming this man is the one explodes in my chest. As I hang on to him like my life depends on it because it feels like it does, I pull back and say, “Let me stay. Please, don’t make me keep this promise. I know you’re only trying to protect me. Quelala wants me—he’s made that clear—but I also know I can beat him. I know I can kill him because I know how.”

“How?”

“Holy water is the only way. Even if you chop off his head, rip his heart out and hand it to him, gut him, dismember him, nothing will work except holy water.”

“Holy water may be abundant in your realm, but here it is rare. The holy water in your bag is the only holy water I have ever come across.”

“Not true—I killed the Vampire Witch of the West with it.”

“That was plain water. Plain water was her weakness.”

“No. If that were true, she couldn’t walk around because there’s water in the air where she was in Winkie Land. Winkie City is a beach town. What I made was holy water—I said a hand-washing prayer over the water that my dad used to say on holidays before he ate bread when I was a kid.”

“A what?”

“Never mind, I made it and that means I can kill him. That’s why it had to be me,” I say, realizing it myself. “Because I knew how to make it.”

“But you cannot be sure of this,” he says, and he’s right, I can’t.

“Fine, but it’s a damn good educated guess. After I said a prayer over the water, I tossed it on her, and she melted. That means you need me.”

“But you don’t need me. Dorothy, you can leave. Go home. This is not your problem to solve. This is not your realm.”

“The rainbow sent me here to help. Oz prayed for me, and he thinks the rainbow brought me here to save you all and be a conduit for its power. If the rainbow wanted me to leave, he would have sent me back himself by that logic.”

“The rainbow? The image on the mountainside?”

“Yup. That guy.”

“Why you then?”

“Huh?”

“Why did he use you as a conduit of his power? If he is so powerful, he could use anyone. Why you?”

“Maybe he likes me? How the heck should I know?”

“Perhaps the rainbow is helping you through, helping to keep you safe until you can get home, because it sees how precious you are, and how wonderful, and that the most beautiful creature in all the realms fell into this nightmare, so it has protected you, just like I did, and Ardie did, and Toto did, and even Werelion did,” he says with a sad laugh.

“So, you think me coming here was just bad luck, wrong place wrong time? Because I don’t. What I see is so different from that.”

“What do you see?”

“I was as sad and gray as my home, but the colors were always a part of me. That rainbow has been with me for a long time, maybe always. Yes, it’s something separate from me, something outside of me, but it’s also deep within.

“In the darkest caverns of myself, I have a doorway to him and being here taught me how to open those doors. When it happened, I can’t be sure, but I believe it was before I ever came here, and I think that’s why the rainbow chose me. Oz is right about the rainbow hearing his cry for help and bringing me here—I can feel it’s true. Maybe the rainbow wanted to help. Maybe he brought me here because we have a connection. Or maybe it’s because here, I could be with you.

“You know I never expected love in my life. Something inside me knew my one true love wasn’t in my world and because of that I never expected to find that person. Falling in love was a fantasy I didn’t dare have because I knew it would only leave me disappointed. The best I figured I could hope for was that I’d meet a decent person and settle down when it made sense to settle down.”

“Me too.”

“But I didn’t know you existed then. Now that I do, nothing else seems to matter much other than being with you for as long as I can be.”

“Dorothy, you are my love and while I know you love me and want to be with me, I cannot let you because you will die if you stay here. You may know how to kill Quelala, but he is not so stupid to come near you. He will send so many people after you, and I’d rather you not be here when that happens.”

“No, he’ll come for me himself.”

“How could you know this?”

The reason I haven’t told him about the dreams yet is because he’ll only want me to leave sooner and my aim is to delay this for as long as possible.

“Dorothy?” he asks, now knowing there is something I’m not telling him, and I sigh because I can’t lie to him—I have to come clean.

“Quelala’s been showing up in my dreams for a bit.”

“What?” he asks, alarmed and maybe pissed I didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” I admit and wince, waiting for him to explode at me.

“Why are you making that face?”

“Because I’m waiting for you to get angry—I’m bracing myself.”

“Angry? With you?”

“Yeah?”

“Why would I be angry with you?”

“Because I didn’t tell you?”

“I’m not thrilled you didn’t tell me, but I am not angry with you—I am angry with him for so many reasons, but threatening you in your dreams… Are you sure they are not just dreams?”

“Oz said he was speaking to me in my sleep. But he wasn’t threatening me.”

“Oh?” he asks, his brows knitting in confusion and a touch of suspicion.

“Quelala… wants me,” I admit with a sigh, knowing it will only make him want me to leave faster.

“Wants you?”

“Yeah, to take over the realms with him. The guy has a thing for me, but he said something that was super weird.”

“What?” he asks, his voice low and his jaw clenching.

“Because his powers of persuasion can’t influence me, he says it means I’m his true love or his destiny or whatever,” I say with an eye roll. Even though his eyes narrow, he says nothing, and the silence lasts too long. “Please say something.”

“What am I to say? The issue is moot—you are leaving,” he says, clipped and curt.

“Okay.”

“But if he believes that, he is wrong. You are mine, Dorothy. No matter how many realms apart we are, you will always be mine.”

“I know,” I say, and he kisses me with all the passion in his beautiful heart.

* * *

After tossing and turning while Nick slept beside me, I got up and took a stroll around the palace. No one’s awake and I need solitude so I can cry and feel sorry for myself without shame. Maybe some fresh air might knock some sense into me because I’ve been so desperate I’ve been contemplating hiding in a cupboard or something so I don’t get sent home.

Nick is right about so many things, but my heart is telling me to stay. If Glinda can send me home, then I’ll go—Nick seems to need it—but if she can’t, it’ll be a huge relief. At the same time though, one thing I’ve learned in my life is that I can never know what to expect.

Life is chaos. Humans create patterns to order the chaos of life. Some do it better than others, but it’s humans creating the patterns, not the universe or entities outside of the physical realm of existence. What every being, no matter what their circumstance, is living with every second of every damn day is chaos. Chaos is our common denominator, the one thing we share with every other thing in our universe and maybe even beyond. As long as we exist, we will exist in chaos no matter how hard we try to put order to it.

Some people believe that there is no chaos and that the patterns are just so big we can’t see them, and our perspective is too close to comprehend them. When Nick and I had our vision of the multiverse, when all we could see were four realms, it was confusing—why only four, what’s all the white space, and so many other questions came pouring out—but when we stepped back, gained a broader perspective, there was an order and a very clear pattern. So much more we didn’t know was there became visible, and the pattern became clear.

Maybe I’m wrong, and chaos doesn’t exist on a grand scale the way I thought it did. Maybe my parents died for a reason. But if there is a reason, I despise that reason and I despise whoever made that part of my pattern. Fate, Destiny, whatever you want to call her, wrongs far too many of us, and if I believe she exists, I overflow with hate for her, so for years, I have chosen not to believe. If I don’t believe life is chaos, if I believe that was part of a damn pattern, if I reject the randomness of the universe, I’ll get too angry and the veil that was once gray will turn black. Instead, I will believe what I know to be true—existence is chaos and sometimes shit happens for no good reason. So, I may think I know what I will feel in a year or in five years, but I don’t. Anything can happen. Coming here proves that to me. And maybe I just need to go with it.

If I were on the outside looking in, if a friend were in my position and asked for my advice, I might say that she can’t predict the future, and he’s right to send her away if people want to kill her for real. If it were a friend, I’d remind her she only has one life and what good would it be to lose it for some romantic notion about a guy she hasn’t had the chance to be with in the long term to find out if it could even work between them. I’d tell her she was too young to be thinking about forever with a guy she just met no matter how crazy about him she is. But my heart tells me to be with him, that he’s the one. While my head sees things his way, my heart won’t stop protesting, and the dichotomy of those two things is making me nauseated and miserable.

“Looks like I’m not the only insomniac in the palace now,” I hear and turn to see Glinda sitting in a room to my left in a big chair in front of a magical fireplace with red magic flames. She sits in a beautiful pink bathrobe with platinum accents and sparkling pink fuzzy bedroom slippers drinking tea. “Tired of counting sheep?”

“Yeah,” I say with a sigh and walk into the room. It’s a massive library lined with red leather-bound books on shelves stacked high to the ceiling.

“Take a load off,” she says, and I sit in the chair across from hers. “Would you like some tea, darling?”

“Sure,” I say, and a ruby crystal tea cup just like hers appears in mist on the coffee table before me.

As she takes up the ruby teapot and pours my tea, she says, “This is magic tea, so don’t drink too much or you’ll get schnockered. Or do if that’s what you’re going for.”

“Thanks,” I say as I take a sip—it’s floral and delicious and relaxes me straightaway. “Where are you from?”

“New York City, darling. Well, I was born in New York City, lived in Connecticut. Greenwich. Went to Vassar, then I moved to Manhattan. I was working there. Archeology Department at the university. And that took me all over the world. That’s how I ended up here.”

“I’m from New York too. Lower East Side.”

“I thought you were from Kansas.”

“I live there now, or I was living in Kansas before I came here. But I was born in New York and lived there until I was thirteen.”

“I hear it. Are you Italian?”

“No, my dad was a North African Jew, and my mom was American,” I say and shrug.

“You said was. Does that mean your parents passed?”

“They died when I was thirteen. It’s why I went to Kansas. My aunt and uncle live on a farm there.”

“How tragic. I’m so sorry. And to move to Kansas from New York City of all places! How did you handle all that dust, darling?” she asks, and I chuckle.

“I didn’t like how gray it was. Even though this realm is scary and riddled with monsters, it has all the colors I was so thirsty for in Kansas. It has a lot I was missing in my life there.”

“You are preaching to the choir. Magic is hard to resist, and for someone in my field, it is hard to resist access to another world altogether, rich in jewels and precious metals. I told my family I married a Maharaja I met in my travels, and when I return, I bring them jewels and metals. It helped them out a great deal during hard times.”

“You go back?” I ask, surprised it’s possible to travel between realms at will.

“I do. Not long though. Can’t stay away too long. But I return to check in, show my face, and throw a little dough their way.”

“How? We came to ask you to send me back to Kansas, but I don’t want to go. I should go. Quelala is after me, I killed two vampire witches, and Nick drove them out of Winkie Land. Oz and Nick both think I need to leave for my safety, but I don’t want to go. I promised I’d go, and I know I should, but… I’m in love with him.”

“With whom?”

“Nick. The Axeman.”

“Wait…” she says as if she’s remembering something. “Do I know him?”

“Yes, you protected him from Gayelette’s love spells a few years back,” I remind her, and her eyes widen in recognition.

“Right! Oh, he’s grown up so well,” she purrs. “And he’s your beau?”

“Yes,” I say with a giggle, amused by her word choice.

“He believes you are not safe here?”

“I’m not. No one is.”

“I suppose that’s true, but you are a target, correct?”

“Yes, and Oz confirmed it.”

“Oz the Wizard?”

“The land. The magic or the entity that the land is comes into form and talks to me. He’s the one who sent me to kill the Vampire Witch of the West. The Wizard did, but Oz wanted it, and he promised me a way home, but he couldn’t send me there. That’s why we came here. But I don’t want to leave.”

“Go, then come back,” she says and shrugs.

“But how?”

“Your shoes.”

“These shoes?” I ask pointing to the silver boots I can’t get off.

“That’s right. Click the heels together three times, then say where you want to go. Take three steps forward and on the third step, you’ll be there. If you’re sitting, just step back and forth from one foot to the other three times. I brought this chair back that way.”

“No kidding?” I say with a shocked laugh.

“I kid you not.”

All this time I could have gone home. I could have gone anywhere in a few steps.

“Does it work in a realm without magic, like ours?”

“Oh yes! You have magic now. This realm can awaken it in you. Once it’s out, it never goes away, or at least not that I’ve found.”

“I’ll still have my magic there too?”

“Yes, and the boots will work just fine. Now you will never need to take one of those dreaded cruises to Europe. You can go to Paris anytime in seconds.”

“But I can come back here too?”

“You can go to any realm at all. I wouldn’t suggest it, but you can go.”

“And you don’t want these shoes back?”

“No, they’re yours now. I have new ones. They are pavé ruby pumps, darling. Gorgeous. Dazzling.”

“How did you get them, or make them?”

“Mombi.”

“Mombi? As in the Zombie Witch Mombi?”

“That’s her. I got very ill when I first arrived. Or I was ill when I arrived. Dysentery. I was in East Africa and got in my plane to get to a doctor and landed here. They alerted Mombi to my arrival. All the witches showed up, and I explained what was wrong, that I needed medicine. They didn’t have what I needed here, so she gave me the boots to get back for treatment, which I did. When I returned, she had already made herself another pair. When Gayelette stole mine, I went to Mombi and asked her how to get another. She gave me what I needed to make them myself, and I did.”

“What was that?”

“An element from outside the realm. It is nameless as far as I know and looks like pure, clear, colorless light. Like a heatwave, know what I mean? Like clear energy not of this realm. I paid a handsome price for it, but I got just enough from her to make my new pair and she gave me the incantation to make them not only magical shoes, but shoes that can carry you anywhere.”

“Wow,” I breathe.

“If you promised you’d go, go. But don’t stay away too long. Things change fast here.”

“I believe it,” I say and marvel at how much this news changes things. Nick will tell me I need to stay away until Quelala is dead for good. But if I can go anywhere in three steps, I have a lot less to fear. So, I’ll stock up on things my realm has that this one doesn’t, and I’ll come back here with everything we need to win this war. I can always leave again if I want. If something happens to Nick, I can leave, go anywhere I want in all the realms in seconds. But if I can be here, then I can help protect Nick, I can help him win, and when it’s all over, we can live the life neither of us has dared to dream of until now.

“What stirring up there, sugar?” she asks, seeing my thoughts spin a mile a minute.

“I’m thinking I will go back and get supplies for the war that’s about to happen. Barrels of holy water. Guns. A tank maybe.”

“Whoa, guns?”

“Yeah. I get they’re vampires, but a gunshot will slow them down at least.”

“These people can’t handle guns. They are primitive. Would you give guns to cavemen?” she says, and I guffaw.

“You think they’re like cavemen?”

“I’m being hyperbolic, darling. It’s like the fifteenth century here. No technology, no weapons beyond swords and knives. They don’t even use deodorant. They cannot handle guns. Do not bring guns here. A gun can’t even kill a vampire.”

“Maybe only a few.”

“My dear, please don’t do that. This society is not ready for guns. None are to be honest. They are a terrible invention.”

“I agree, but I want to decimate those vampires. I want to keep the people I love safe and give them every chance possible to win. They can’t fly. They aren’t immortal, and they don’t have fangs, super speed, or super strength. All they are is people who deserve a fighting chance.”

She sighs a long, labored sigh.

“No, I cannot let you do that. Guns do not belong here. Grenades would be better. They won’t understand them and won’t be able to reverse engineer them the way they would a gun. They are simple to use and all they need to do is throw it far away from themselves once they remove the pin. Grenades should be enough,” she says, giving in a little.

“Okay, fine.”

“When it’s over, we send them back though. We must account for all of the weapons you bring, and when it’s over we must get them out of this realm straightaway.”

“I’m all for that too.”

“All right then. Holy water would be good. I brought some back with me the last time I went, but it’s running low. And perhaps some tanks would be helpful. But we’d need fuel.”

“They’ll be expensive I’m sure. Can I grab a ruby from somewhere around here to bring back so I can exchange it for some cash?”

“If you bring one too big, it’ll be a big hoopla. I’ll give you some medium-sized ones. They’re worth a ton. Enough to buy some tanks at least,” she says and as a ruby box appears in rosy mist on the table. “Take those.”

“Thank you,” I say as I open it up to find three faceted rubies the size of my palm.

“Exchange them in Europe. You’ll get a better rate. Elias Kupper is my guy. Tell him Glinda sent you. He’s in Antwerp. Kupper’s Edelstenen is the name of the place if I recall. Oh! Can you pick me up some champagne, darling? The good stuff, please. A few dozen cases would be wonderful. I’ll be out soon and it’d save me a trip.”

“Sure,” I shrug. Why not? I’ll need a huge trailer anyway if I want to bring back tanks and barrels of holy water.

“Oh! And chocolates. You’ll be in Antwerp, so grab some Dutch chocolate while you’re there. Get bars, bonbons, cacao powder, the works.”

“Is there no chocolate here?”

“None. I bring it back, but it runs out quick. I’d bring the seeds, but I worry about bringing in foreign species. In a place like this, you never know what could happen.”

“Very true.”

“Dorothy?” I hear Nick say as he steps into the room wearing his long johns, every rippling muscle on his body calling out to me. I’m thrilled I don’t have to say goodbye forever. He smiles at me and I realize I’m smiling at him.

“Hey,” I say as I look at him googly eyed. He always notices and chuckles.

“Nicky! I didn’t recognize you! You are all grown up now,” Glinda says as she stands and walks over to him. He smiles, his sweetness rising to the surface along with the slight blush in his cheek.

“Hello, Glinda. It is good to see you again.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful to see you! How is your mother?”

“She passed away,” he tells her, and she gasps.

“Oh no, when?”

“Soon after we came to see you, she fell ill.”

“Oh, Nicky, I’m so sorry to hear that,” she says and hugs him, but the look on her face is severe, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed together in a grim line. I bet she thinks Gayelette did it to make his mother pay for protecting him against her. If that’s true, Gayelette’s even worse than I thought. She pulls back and puts a smile on her face. “She would be so proud of you and who you’ve become. Emperor of Winkie! That is impressive.”

“Ha! We will see how successful I am at it. I do not feel like an Emperor.”

“You’ll be wonderful,” I tell him. He will be. There is no one better for the job.

“What are you doing awake?” he asks me.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“We’ve been chatting,” Glinda says. “But now I’m off to bed. See you for brunch. Breakfast is too early. I want to sleep in.”

“Sounds good,” I say, and she disappears in a puff of rose smoke.

“Come back to bed,” he says, so I stand, pick up my box of rubies, and take his outstretched hand in mine before we head out of the room. As we walk down the long corridor toward the rose glass elevator, I entwine our fingers and snuggle up to him. I’m happy and at ease, and will have no trouble sleeping now.

“Did you have a good conversation?”

“Very good.”

“Did she tell you she cannot return you?” he asks, wondering why I’m in such a good mood.

“No, but she told me how I can return myself. Oh! I forgot to ask her how to take them off. Darn! I’ll ask her in the morning. What’s one more night of foot rot?” I shrug.

“So, she can return you?”

“I can return, yes,” I say as we step into the rose-colored crystal ball. It detaches from the palace and floats over to our turret.

He looks pensive, his brows drawing together before he looks at me and says, “There is something I’m missing.”

“You’re so astute,” I say and smile unable to help how thrilled I am. “That’s such a wonderful quality.”

“Now I know you are not telling me something. What are you not telling me?” he asks as our crystal bubble elevator opens to our suite and we start up the stairs to our room.

“Shh, everyone’s sleeping,” I whisper, and he narrows his eyes at me.

“Tell me in a whisper then,” he whispers.

“Patience,” I whisper back, and we walk up the stairs to the top of the tower to our suite.

When he closes the door behind us, he says, “Dorothy,” in a warning tone that makes me giggle.

“I don’t want you to get mad,” I admit.

“Why would I get mad?” he says, already getting mad.

“Because I think it’s good news, but I know you won’t.”

“What is it?”

“So… Guess what?” I say, hoping to evoke some enthusiasm from him. It’s not working.

“No. Tell me what,” he says, getting irritated.

“Turns out these crazy boots stuck on my feet can take me anywhere. I just have to click my heels together three times, say where I want to go, take three steps forward, and I’m there.”

“What?” he gasps.

“I know! This whole time I could have gone home on my own.”

“That is wonderful news! Why would this anger me?”

“Because it changes things.”

“What does it change?”

“I can come back. Duh.”

“But…” he says and stops. He hadn’t thought of that. Now’s the moment of truth. Does he want to be with me or not?

“But what?”

“It is still not safe for you here.”

“So, I’ll go and then I’ll come back. I’m just going to get some stuff I need to get, tell my family I’m alive, and then I’ll come back,” I say and shrug.

“No. No, no, no, no, no. You cannot do that. Quelala will kill you. Those boots will not protect you from him.”

“He won’t kill me. He’d turn me and make me marry him,” I say and shudder in disgust.

“That is worse!” he says, exasperated.

“But he won’t! I’ll kill him first. His compulsion doesn’t work on me. And to be honest, I’m not even sure he wants to turn me. I just know he wants me,” I say and shudder in disgust again.

“Dorothy, you cannot return to Oz,” he says, stressing out. “Not for a long while if ever. We have been over this—I will die soon,” he says and gets teary, losing his composure.

“You’re not dying, and neither am I. It’s all good, dude.”

“What? ‘It’s all good, dude,’ did you say? All good? No, it is not all good. It is all terrible.”

“Not for long. I’ve got it covered.”

“Dorothy, if you love me, you will not come back.”

“What?” I say, so pissed he went there.

“I mean it. You promised me. I need you to be safe. You are not safe here. I know you think you are, but you are not. Neither am I. Leave this place and never look back. You promised me,” he begs.

I know he means it, and I know he loves me, but I can’t promise that. I didn’t and I won’t. But I will keep the promise I made to him. And after a week or two there, I’ll return with supplies and barrels of holy water, and he’ll be happy to see me.

“I won’t break my promise to you, Nick. I’ll go.”

“Do not just come right back either.”

“I won’t just come right back.” I’ll come back a week later. Seven days is an ample amount of time.

“I love you, Dorothy. Too much to ask you to live here.”

“I know you’re not asking me, and I might take offense if I didn’t know you loved me more than your own happiness.”

“You know I do.”

“I know. But I love you the same way,” I say and shrug. When we kill Quelala, he’ll be glad I returned. Until then, he can be as salty as he wants. Because just like the rest of us, there are things he will just have to accept and me living in Oz with him is one of those things.

For the first time, this feels right. The thought of leaving forever felt so wrong it broke my heart to think of. I knew I had to leave, but I didn’t want to never return. Now I can, and everything will work out just the way it’s supposed to. I’ll go, but I’ll come back with enough holy water to douse this entire realm ten times over.

He leans in and kisses me, pulling me close to him in a loving embrace, and I kiss him back with everything I am. This time, there is a promise of a future together, there is a possibility for us, and I will do everything in my power to make that future happen.

Oz showed us the future, and we were in Royal Winkie garb, floating in a bubble through an Emerald City that was a blend of our worlds. The walls of the city were open, Oz was safe, and we were together. That’s the future I want and deep down I know I can have it. It’s hovering right there in front of us, and not even Nick will stop me from seizing it.

32

Home Again—but not for long

Even though I got no sleep, it was worth it. After spending the rest of the night entangled in each other, when the sun rose, Nick and I drifted off to sleep. Quelala haunted my dreams, telling me I’ll be his soon, that he will give me anything my heart could ever desire, including Nick. Everything about the dream was super creepy, but when he said that, I just laughed. It’s hilarious to me he’s telling me I’m his true love and in the same breath saying he doesn’t care if I keep my boyfriend. Megalomania is so gross.

No matter how many times I tell him to go away and leave me alone forever, he keeps coming back and putting sick visions into my mind, trying to entice me, but I do not want to see Nick and Quelala getting it on, and I have no desire to be the meat in a Nick and Quelala sandwich. I swear I almost barfed in my sleep. If I had woken up in a pool of my puke, it wouldn’t have surprised me in the least. The dreams eventually stopped, and we woke up at about noon, came downstairs, and found Werelion and Ardie sitting with Glinda in the garden having brunch. Toto is in heaven sitting on Glinda’s lap while she feeds him strips of bacon.

“Morning!” Glinda says, and I kiss her cheek hello before I sit. “Ardie was just telling me you have the golden cap.”

“Yeah, you want it?”

“You read my mind.”

“It’s yours.”

“Wonderful,” she says and takes a sip of her mimosa.

Nick and I serve ourselves as Ardie asks, “What will you ask the vampire bat monkeys for?”

“First, I will ask them to return you to Emerald City, so you do not have to travel so far on foot. Then I will ask them to carry Werelion to the Shifter Forest so he may take his place as King, and for my third request I will ask them to return Nicky to Winkie Land so he may begin his rule.”

“Thank you, Glinda,” Nick says, grateful not to have to walk for a month. We need to take care of this transportation issue. That’ll be on the list of things to work on when I come back.

“If you would like to use your third request for yourself,” Werelion says, “I can walk back to Shifter Forest—it is not too far from here.”

“Pish-tosh! I have no need for their services, but I plan on giving the Vampire Bat Monkey King the cap so that no one may enslave them again. And besides, I see it as a bit of diplomacy. We’ve got our own little United Nations going here,” she says, and I chuckle while Nick, Ardie, and Werelion look confused.

“All that’s missing is everybody’s favorite witch, Gayelette,” I say and Glinda groans.

“Ugh, that woman.”

“You do not get along?” Ardie asks.

“No, we do not. We were friends once, but she turned out to be not my kind of person, if you know what I mean.”

“I do not think I do,” Ardie says, his brows drawn together in confusion.

“Her scruples are in question.”

“And she’s responsible for this vampire plague, as least partially,” I add.

“How?” Glinda asks, and she’s the one who looks confused this time.

“I heard she took Quelala from his mother and raised him to be her husband and king.”

“She did not take him as a child because she wanted him to be her husband. She took him at his mother’s request, to hide him.”

“Hide him? From who?” Nick asks, surprised to hear it.

“His father if I recall. Or perhaps it was his uncle. Anyway, there was some prophecy he would take over as King of the Realms if he could find his true love—a magical witch impervious to his powers—and he would lead the realms into darkness or some horrific thing. I can’t remember the exact details. But his mother came here when he was a boy, went to Gayelette, and asked her to take her son because his life was in danger. As he got older, he became very attractive and you know the rest. Their relationship was sick if you ask me, but she married him, then she stole my shoes, then she threw him out, and then the plague started.”

“I thought he turned the Vampire Witch of the East and then she threw him out.”

“Perhaps that’s the order. Either way, she didn’t start it. He did. But her morals are in question for many other reasons we needn’t go into.”

So, I won’t lie and pretend that prophecy tidbit doesn’t scare me. The heat of Nick’s worried gaze bores into the side of my face, but I can’t look his way.

“How about a change of subject?” Glinda suggests. “Are you returning to Kansas today, Dorothy?”

“Yes,” Nick answers for me.

“Ah, right,” she says with a smirk. “Then let us get on with our day. I must go dress. If I wander the palace in my pajamas all day, my military will think I’ve gone soft and try to take over Quadling. Such ambitious young women. Why don’t you gather your things when you finish eating and let’s say in three hours we’ll meet back here in the garden to see you off?”

“Three hours is perfect,” Nick says, and she smirks again as she disappears in a puff of rose-colored smoke.

“She can return you to Kansas?” Werelion asks, sad to hear the news.

“Dorothy can return herself,” Nick answers for me again.

“Dude, I have a functioning mouth and vocal cords that work. I can answer my own questions,” I say irritated, but when he looks at me with sad eyes, surprised at my harsh words, guilt floods my chest and my heart clenches. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” I say as I deflate. Nick wraps his arms around me, and I hug him back, so tight.

“But how can she return herself?” Werelion asks, perplexed.

“Do you want to explain?” Nick asks me and I shake my head no, not wanting to let go of him. “The boots she wears can bring her home if she clicks her heels together three times, says the name of the place she wants to go, and then takes three steps forward. On the third step she will be in Kansas again.”

“All this time,” Ardie muses.

“But that means you can come back!” Werelion bursts with happiness.

“No, she cannot. Not as long as Quelala is alive.”

“But he is immortal,” Werelion says.

“Exactly.”

“Then we will have to destroy him. Every being has a weakness. He must have one too,” Ardie suggests.

“Holy water. It’s the only thing that can kill him. And it comes from my realm.”

“There is still some left in the bag from Gayelette. If Dorothy will leave it with us, we will save it for Quelala,” Nick says.

“You can have it, but I can bring back barrels of the stuff.”

“No. If you come back, he can get to you, and if there’s anything to this prophecy, you must stay away, Dorothy. You must,” Nick avers.

“I get it,” I say and sigh, choosing my words carefully.

“What does the prophecy have to do with Dorothy?” Ardie asks.

“Quelala believes she is the witch he is to marry. She is impervious to his compulsion, so he believes she is the one, and now he is speaking to her in her sleep.”

“What?” Ardie asks, very alarmed.

“He’s ridiculous.”

“Is he in love with you?” Werelion gasps.

“No, he just wants to take over everything, but I think he might like Nick a lot. Far more than he likes me.”

“What?” Nick blurts, stunned by my words.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why do you think such a thing?” Ardie asks me, holding back a smile.

“Because my dreams last night were very graphic, and not in a good way.”

The look of horror on Nick's face is so perfect I guffaw and Ardie laughs along with me. Soon enough, Werelion is giggling too.

“What are you saying to me?” Nick says, horrified.

“I’m saying that he…” How do I put this? “He wants us to be together as a triple.”

“Triple?”

“Thruple?”

“Thruple?” Nick scoffs.

“A threesome? A three-way relationship? Some kind of polyamorous type situation. He implied in the dream, and said flat out I didn’t have to give you up to be with him, and he wants in.”

“He wants in?” he asks, growing enraged.

“Yeah?” I say and laugh. It’s so inappropriate but I can’t help it.

“Why are you laughing?” Nick asks baffled by my reaction.

“Because,” I say through my giggles. “It’s so awful it becomes funny to me. And, I mean, I might get into something like that someday, I don’t know, I guess I’m open, but I’m not open to it being with him.”

“Wait, wait…” Nick says and shakes his head. Ardie guffaws this time. “You are open to what?”

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just saying I’m not opposed to a threesome, but I don’t want it to be with a soulless psycho bloodsucker.”

“But I am not interested in men that way,” Nick insists.

“Oh now, I’m sure you’re a little interested,” Ardie says just to poke the bear, and Werelion giggles.

“You wish I were,” Nick says and Ardie guffaws.

“I assure you, I don’t. Unlike you two, I am not a horny goat. One partner is enough for me, thank you.”

“Did you just call us horny goats?” I ask with a chuckle.

“Yes, I did, and you are.”

“Silly,” Werelion says as he giggles, sipping his magical tea from a dainty ruby teacup, and I am almost certain he spiked it with his liquid courage.

Toto jumps up on my lap and steals the bacon off my plate.

“Hey!” I say as he leaps to the floor and runs to Ardie for protection. Ardie picks him up and snuggles him.

“He needs his protein,” Ardie says in his defense as he pets him, already missing him. Maybe I should bring Ardie back a dog at some point. It might be nice for Toto to have a friend like him. Maybe for his birthday next year, I’ll get him a dog.

“Ardie, if you want to hang with Toto until we go, I’m sure he’d love it.”

“Thank you, Dorothy,” he says and kisses the top of his little head.

If I tell him not to worry and that we’ll be back, Nick will protest and try to make me promise to stay away, so I keep my mouth shut instead. For now.

“Let us get ready if the vampire bat monkeys are to return us today,” Werelion says.

“After all this time, I can't believe our journey together has ended,” Ardie says with a hint of melancholy in his voice.

If I didn’t know I was returning soon, I’d feel the same way, but our journey together has not ended—it’s just beginning. Together, we will fight a war against the soulless, and in my heart, I know we will win. Quelala may have plans, but so do I, and my plans involve eliminating him for good. What they don’t include is him in my relationship. Psycho.

We return to our room to pack, and Toto is happy to hang with Ardie as always. He’ll be just as sad to leave as I am, but we’ll only be away a few days.

“Please tell me you know you cannot return,” Nick says as I hand him the bottle of holy water from my bag of weapons.

“Nick, can we please stop the endless conversation about how I’m not safe here. I know I’m not safe here. All I want is to be close to you before I have to go. Please?”

He pulls me to him, kisses me with all the love in his beautiful heart, and we make the most of these last hours. Once we finish packing, I go into the ruby bathroom that’s like a fusion of the natural rough crystal magic of Oz and a very fancy bathroom back home. Marble-like ruby countertops and a platinum sink stand beside an ornate ruby and platinum vanity. On the other side of the bathroom is a massive ruby waterfall bathtub. When I step into the bath, it warms and bubbles, and steam rises with sparkling rose mist from the water.

“Thank you,” I hear a woman’s voice I don’t recognize say and I jump, opening my eyes to find a beautiful red misty woman before me.

“Um…”

“Sorry, I did not mean to startle you. I only wanted to thank you before you left us.”

“Who are you? And what are you thanking me for?”

“The people call me Quadling. The spider you destroyed was a curse on me, on my land, and the Zombielands had been infecting me for many years. Now my strength is returning thanks to you. Whenever you return, my power is yours to share.”

“Thank you,” I say, touched by her kindness and gratitude. She is nothing like Oz. But then I wonder… “Are you Oz but in a different form?” I ask and she smiles.

“Yes, and no. Although I am not Oz, you may think of us like cousins, or siblings.”

“So, he sent me to destroy the Zombielands to save you?”

“No, well, in part for it was infecting him too. The zombiism had spread to him and to Munchkin.”

“Do each of the countries in the lands of Oz have another like you?”

“Yes,” she says, unclear why I wouldn’t assume it was so.

“Do you think I should leave and stay away?”

“No, we need you here.”

“Then why did Oz tell me to leave?”

“I do not know. Did he give you no reason?”

“Yeah, he gave me a reason.” And the reason was that he had grown fond of me and I wasn’t safe here. Quelala will come for me and he wasn’t sure I’d make it out unscathed. Torn in two, I let out a labored sigh.

Should I stay away? Am I being an idiot planning on returning the second I get supplies?

No. No, my realm has the technology that can help us win. And I sure as hell won’t let Nick die fighting alone. Let him be mad when I return. When it’s over, he’ll be alive and so will I, and that’s what matters. He thinks he knows best, but he doesn’t have faith. He doesn’t even know what it is. By no fault of his own, but still. Faith we will win is so strong inside me I can feel it in my bones. Maybe I’m delusional, but I don’t care. You’ve got to be a little crazy to win a knock down drag out fight, and that’s what it’ll be. We will need every advantage we can get, and that’s where my trip home comes in. One week, then I’m coming back. If I die then I die, but I don’t think I will. I have complete faith we will prevail.

“Do not stay away too long,” Quadling says to me.

“I won’t.”

“Good,” she says and smiles as she dissipates.

To hear her say she wants me to return means more than I expected. No one has told me to stay. No one has told me to come back. Werelion has made it seem like he wished I would, but he didn’t tell me I’m needed here. Only that he’d miss me. Glinda asked me to pick up some things, but she doesn’t seem to care either way if I stay there or return. Quadling believes I have a higher purpose here though. She says I’m needed, and it means more to me than perhaps it should. To know someone wants me to return, someone believes I’m needed here, means so much to me and only reinforces my decision.

“My love,” Nick says as he enters the bathroom with my bag. I gave him the weapons and filled it up with the clothes from Jellia and the rubies from Glinda.

“Yes, my love,” I purr, and he chuckles at me.

“In your bag there is gold from Winkie. You said it was worth a lot in your realm. I hope you can exchange it and use the money to fulfill your dreams of travel and live a beautiful life. I wish I could be the one to share it with you, but since I cannot, perhaps this is something I can do…” he says and stops, dropping his head.

“Nick?” I say as I move to the edge of the tub and reach out for him.

One tear falls and then another hitting the floor between his feet. Pain from seeing him in pain, and joy from knowing he loves me that much clash inside me, overwhelming every other emotion, and although I want to fall apart, I remember what Oz said, and I collect myself fast. I’m coming back anyhow. I’ll see him so soon. He just doesn’t know it yet.

“My heart belongs to you. Know that, please. It’s yours. And when you leave, you take it with you. You will always be the love of my life,” he says as tears fall from his eyes, and even though I’m teary too, I smile at him.

“Determined to be heartless again, huh?” I tease, and he smiles, but I can see he’s heartbroken.

“It seems to be my destiny,” he says. Until now, he has shown no signs of self-pity.

“No. You don’t get to be heartless, Nick. Because while I have your heart, you have mine.”

Before I can blink, he’s down on his knees beside the tub and kissing me with all the love in his heart, so I give him mine with a tender kiss back. We may be young, but the rainbow who I will always cherish brought me here not only to help these people, but so I could meet my soulmate. Nick is my love, my heart. I have other colors that are mine alone, other colors I share with everyone else, but this particular shade of red is only his, and no matter what the future brings in this chaotic multiverse, that will never change.

* * *

In my farm girl shirt covered in riot grrrl patches and my side-button pants with my bag on my back and Toto in my arms, I stand in the enchanted garden of the ruby palace surrounded by more flowers in different shades of red and pink in any single place in all the multiverse. Strawberry mist and incarnadine sparkles caress the fat blooms as they twirl and dance and flutter around us. The warm, spicy, floral scent of the magic of Quadling permeates my senses, calming me enough to say goodbye.

“Dorothy, I will miss you,” Ardie says as he places his hands on my shoulders and takes me in.

“Oh, Ardie, I’ll miss you too, so much.” I’m coming back soon, but I still don’t know when I’ll see him again. We’ll be living in different countries. “You’re like the brother I never had,” I say, and he hugs me and Toto. I whisper in his ear, “I’ll see you soon.”

When he pulls back, he gives me a small smile, but it’s a sad one, like he also doesn’t think it’s safe for me to return, but he won’t blow up my spot right now either, which I appreciate. I hand Toto to Ardie so they can say a proper goodbye and turn to Werelion to find him crying, drying his tears with the tip of his tail.

“Oh, Werelion, I’m so proud of you. You did everything you set out to do and I know you’ll make a great king. The greatest they’ve ever seen,” I say and wrap my arms around him in a hug. Giant paws make gentle strokes down my back, and it reminds me that Werelion may have found his courage, but he’ll still always be a gentle giant at heart, and it’s one of the many things I will always love about him.

“Please don’t go,” he blubbers.

“Do not make it harder for her, Werelion,” Ardie says. “It is not safe for her here. Not until we kill Quelala for good. That could take years.”

“We’ll do it, Dorothy. And then you can come back.”

“But how will she know when he’s dead? There is no way for her to know, and that is why she must stay away,” Ardie says again.

All right, I get the picture. He doesn’t want me to come back either.

“Then she shouldn’t go at all,” Werelion protests, and it means so much to me. At least one of them sees it my way.

“Enough of this. She must go. It would be selfish of us to keep her here when she is in constant danger,” Nick says. “Can we please stop this and have a nice goodbye? This is the last time—” he says and his voice breaks.

The sound of it breaks my heart, and I turn and hug him so tight, so fast. As he buries his face in my neck, his arms wrap around me, and when he pulls back, he kisses me like it’s the last kiss we’ll ever share, and even though I know it won’t be, I savor it. One week without him will be hard enough.

“All right now. Bank’s closed,” Glinda says and pulls us apart. “You can kiss her goodbye again in a minute,” she says to Nick as she pulls me toward her. When she takes my hands in hers, she presses a piece of paper into my palm. “My dear girl, it’s been a pleasure. Now where’s my cap?” she says, and I almost forgot. She releases my hands and I go to my bag, open it, look at the paper and see she’s made a list of things for me to bring back for her. I put it in the bag and take out the golden cap, zip up my bag, and hand it to her.

“Here it is. It’s all yours.”

“Wonderful! Thank you, darling,” she says and gives me a kiss on each cheek.

“Oh!” I say, remembering one more crucial detail I almost forgot. “How do I take these shoes off?”

“What do you… Have you not taken them off for three months?”

“Nope. Can’t get them off.”

“Have you bathed?”

“Yes. My feet just get wet,” I say, and she gasps. “I know.”

“Go straight to a pediatrist and maybe see a dermatologist too.”

“Please tell me I can take them off.”

“Yes, you can take them off. Pivot clockwise on your left heel, then pivot counterclockwise on your right heel, and they’ll relax enough to slip your feet right out. But don’t do it now, please. That’s something you should do alone first, near a bathtub and antifungal medications.”

“Okay, Jeez,” I say dropping my head and she laughs.

“They are magic boots, darling. You’ll be fine… I hope,” she says and hugs me to her one last time. I hug her back and she whispers in my ear, “Hurry back.”

When I pull away, I turn to Nick again—he takes my face in his hands and kisses me one last time with tender lips. When he pulls away and looks into my eyes, I know I must return. He is noble and altruistic, but he needs me. We belong together—he’ll see that soon enough. When he steps back with tears in his eyes, Ardie hands me Toto as Werelion hands me my bag.

With my bag on my shoulder and Toto in my arms, I look at them all and say, “I’m so grateful to have come here and met every one of you. You are our family—Toto’s and mine—and we’ll miss you.”

Werelion bawls, Toto whimpers with him, and Ardie gets emotional at the sound of Toto’s sad little cries.

“We love you guys,” I say, my voice cracking as the tears break through.

“We love you too,” Werelion sobs, and when I look at Nick, he looks riddled with regret, like he wants me to stay but can’t ask me to. It’s okay, because I’m coming back. I step forward and kiss him one last time, and he kisses me back as he threads his fingers through my hair.

“I love you,” I whisper as I pull back, his hands leaving me as sorrow takes over his mien. “Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon,” I say and give him a small smile, and I swear I see hope in his eyes. He wants me to stay, and I will. I just need to get some things first.

I click my heels once, twice, three times.

“Aunt Em and Uncle Henry’s farm in Kansas,” I say.

One step forward and it’s as though I am stepping across the universe. I take another step into a violent wind and cold mist and dark gray clouds that shake and rattle and chatter my teeth.

One last step.

In a whirlwind, I walk on the dried out gray grass of the parched front lawn of my aunt and uncle’s farm. As the surrounding wind dissipates, I stop and set Toto on the ground at my feet. As I look around, I notice the farm is in ruins. The house isn’t there and only the storm shelter’s hole stands amidst the broken foundation of rotting gray wood. No wonder the house flew away. When I look around, I spot some guys over by the stables.

“Come on, Toto,” I say, and he follows.

As we trudge through the debris, I spot John lifting some white-painted wood that looks like it came from another house altogether. He turns his head and his eyes go wide when he sees me.

“Dorothy!” he gasps as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Hey, John. Are my aunt and uncle around?”

“You’re alive!”

“Yeah. It’s been a long, crazy journey,” I say, shaking my head, already miserable to be back.

“They’re staying at the Elder’s Farm. There’s been a search party out looking for you.”

“For how long?”

“Three days. Since the tornado blew through.”

“It’s only been three days?”

“Yeah. Were you knocked out somewhere? Where did you come from?”

“Uh, I…” It felt like I was in Oz for three months. Time must move slower here. That means I need to get back fast. “Can you give me a ride over there?”

“Sure,” he says, drops the wood he’s holding, and heads over to his truck a few steps away.

I get into his truck with Toto in my arms and my bag on my shoulder. Once it rumbles to a start, he pulls out onto the road that leads to the Elder Farm about fifteen minutes away.

“You okay?” he asks with a mix of concern, fear, and awe that I survived.

“Yeah, I am,” I say and smile, hoping it puts him at ease, and I watch him relax a little as he turns his attention to the road ahead.

As I look out over the vast expanse of gray prairie battered and harrowed by the cyclone, I see the place I’ve lived for the last four years in sharp focus for the first time. Even before the cyclone came, the land here had been dying, and the people who work this dying land try so hard to keep it alive under such wretched circumstances, desperate to make it yield something.

Today, the sky is as gray as it always is, and the land is gray, and the grass is gray. Shades of gray paint the landscape before me. Even though it looks like the land is grieving after a cataclysmic disaster, for the first time, its beauty is plain to me. The gray shadow I carried with me has disappeared. Tragedy no longer taints the lens I see the world through, and for that I will be forever grateful to Oz and the magic that brought me there. I may face hardships again, and I will grieve again, but never again will I let it darken my entire world.

Like Oz, life is full of beauty and horror. Whether you’re in the magical realm or the so-called civilized one, you can look at the world around you and see both things at almost any time. But what being in Oz taught me is that no matter how horrific a situation may be, no matter how devastating or scary or chaotic, there is still always beauty in the colors of it all, even in the grays. As I look back on the last four years of my life, on everything that led me to the place where my life changed forever for a second time, I might think I wasted too many crucial years perceiving my world through a lens that leeched the color from everything I set my eyes on, but now I can forgive myself for my mistakes and maybe even be grateful for the trials I’ve faced. After all, a rainbow only comes out when it rains. The most spectacular rainbows are set against a backdrop of a half dark sky where gray clouds hover and rain batters the surface of the earth, but the horizon is clear and bright—a pure, radiant blue surrounding a shining golden sun. When I’m in Oz, that rainbow is who I am—a vivid, radiant spectrum of colors with a clear bright landscape ahead only made more rich-hued and vibrant by the darkness that lies behind it.

“Here we are,” he says as he turns down the long drive that leads to the Elder Farm.

In the distance, the much larger house sits unharmed by the cyclone. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry sit laughing on the porch with the Elders. Billy is there with a pretty girl by his side. They’re holding hands. Everyone seems just fine. Happy even. A breath of relief leaves me when I see it.

As I look at them now, one thing is clearer than ever—Oz is my home, Nick is my home, and that land of monsters is where I belong. Toto too. So, I’ll take the next few days to stock up on everything we’ll need to survive life in a land riddled with monsters, and by the week’s end, I will leave this realm behind for one filled with magic—I will return to Oz for good. And when I do, I know from a place deep in my soul, for the first time in a long time, I will be home.

END OF BOOK ONE

Acknowledgments

L. Frank Baum created the wonderful world of Oz, a tale that has shaped our culture since it was first published on May 17, 1900. Copyrighted in 1899, the first book in the series is now one hundred and twenty years old, written before women had the right to vote in the United States by the husband of a committed suffragist. L. Frank Baum married Maud Gage, daughter of Matilda Joslyn Gage, and when they lost their infant niece, Dorothy Louise Gage, to illness in 1898, Baum created the character of Dorothy Gale to help his wife deal with the grief, to bring a smile to her face, and give life to a little girl who lost hers. The result was a groundbreaking story that has made a significant impact on our society.

It’s been one hundred years since he passed, and his story lives on showing no signs of ever fading into pop culture oblivion. He created a piece of literature that broke norms with a young female heroine who slays witches and tames lions, and back then, that was bold. The story still resonates today, so it’s no wonder that when I was pregnant with my daughter and having a bevy of crazy dreams every night, one of them was Oz themed.

As most pregnant women can attest, dreams during pregnancy can get weird. From the time I was a child, I always had strange dreams where I’d travel to other planets or fall into a puddle and end up in an underground world, but my dreams during my pregnancy felt like they weren’t my own. All except one.

I was on the set of a Bollywood movie. It was a remake of The Wizard of Oz but with vampires, and I don’t just mean it was a vampire version of the story, but in this production, the actors were actual vampires. Although they were nice, friendly, asking me questions about the script, something in me knew they were real vampires and at any minute they could attack. The dream was utterly creepy with a macabre, blood-covered Oz on a massive stage on a studio lot somewhere in India.

When I woke up, the predominant thought in my mind was that despite the myriad of odd dreams I’ve had in my life, this one was, by far, the oddest. A minute or two after I awoke, I got a call from my closest friend, Lucie, and I told her about the dream expecting her to marvel at the strangeness of it with me. Her immediate response was, “You have to write it.” Instantly I thought someone had to have done it before, so I looked it up and sure enough no vampires had been to Oz yet. As I thought about the original story, it all came together with every paranormal element slipping into slots as though they were ordained to be there.

And that was it—the story poured out of me like it was a gift from L. Frank Baum himself, or my unborn daughter, or the magic storybook in the sky where I get so many of my ideas. So, for that, I want to thank my daughter for the bizarre dreams I had while I carried her—you will always be my greatest accomplishment in life. I love you more than the multiverse.

Lucie, you inspired me with this story in so many ways, and you always encourage me when I need it most. When I freak out or hit a wall, you say the thing that gets me moving again. Even when you are going through so much, you are there when I need you, and I am so grateful to have you in my life. You are my dearest friend and I love you always. Thank you for your honesty, for your optimism, for making me laugh my ass off daily, for putting up with me, and just being one of my absolute favorite people.

And to L. Frank Baum (who I like to imagine as a wizard in an Oz-like afterlife), thank you for giving the world magic, adventure, and a pure-hearted female heroine when women were rarely the heroes in stories. The rich universe you created still resonates today and I can only hope that I will someday write something that will make even a fraction of the impact your work has.

To Craig, my husband, thank you for your support and encouragement, especially toward the end of my writing process. You really stepped up and gave me the time I needed to finish the book. Because of you, I could focus when I needed to most. Your optimism and belief in this book mean more to me than I could ever express in words. Thank you. I love you.

Dad, you gave me my love of fairytales and writing. It has shaped me in the most significant ways, and I couldn’t be more grateful. You’ve always been my biggest cheerleader, always believed in me, and I could have never had the courage to do this without you. I love you.

Mom, you are always there for me through everything and it means the world to me. Not only are you my mom, but you’re one of my favorite people. I can always count on you to be supportive and honest with me about my work—I appreciate it so much. You are an inspiration to me, and I love you with my whole heart.

To Bill, Charlie, Ji Sung, everyone in my family and extended family, especially those of you whose calls or events I missed because I was writing like a madwoman, thank you for being so forgiving, for bearing with me, and for all your support and kindness. Your belief in me means everything to me. I love you all.

To Krista, if I didn’t have you I would not have been able to write this book. Because you were there, I was able to relax, focus down, and write. You are a lovely person who my daughter adores and I am so grateful we have you in our lives.

Bianca, Dorothy’s fellow slayer of evil night creatures, we’ve been friends for over two-and-a-half decades and knowing you over the years has inspired me in so many ways, especially with my version of Dorothy. It is admirable the way you give so much of yourself to philanthropic endeavors. You are one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met, giving your entire heart to your work and your passions. So many of our talks inspired the decisions I made in this retelling, and you gave me permission to have confidence in those decisions. I am so grateful for the encouragement you give me. It means a lot. I love you.

Maya, you are my oldest friend—we have known each other since we were babies; you were a bridesmaid at my wedding; you are my family. Your strength in the face of seemingly impossible mountains to climb inspired me to no end as I wrote this book. Just like Dorothy, you face the impossible and prevail, and there is so much of you in the heart of who she is that I have to thank you just for being you. I am honored to know you—you are the most resilient person I know, and I am so grateful you are my friend.

Giselle, thank you for your guidance and compassion throughout the final stages. You could have easily let me flail but didn’t. You and your team are awesome, and I cannot thank you enough for being so accommodating and kind—it gave me some sense of calm during such a crazy time.

I also want to thank all the bloggers who supported this book early on. You laid the groundwork for others to find it and I am so grateful.

And finally, thank you for reading this book. Without you, all this would be pointless. I hope you enjoyed it. There is more to come.

Letter to the Reader

Dear Reader,

Thank you for joining Dorothy on her journey in Dorothy in the Land of Monsters, the first book of the Oz ReVamped series. I hope you liked it! If you did, I would be so grateful if you could take a moment to write a review, even if it’s only one line. Reviews are a great way to help other readers discover new series and new authors. If you could take a minute to post yours, it would be so helpful.

Thanks again for taking a chance on the first book of the Oz ReVamped series. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! The next book in the series, Dorothy in the Zombie War will be coming out in 2020. For updates and exclusive content, check out my website and subscribe to my newsletter.

XOXO,

Garten Gevedon

P. S. Go to www.gartengevedon.com and sign up for my VIP email list for news about new releases and exclusive giveaways. Connect with me on social media and follow me on Amazon. I’d love to hear from you, so say hello with a message, a post, or a tweet, and I’ll always do my absolute best to respond.

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About the Author

Garten Gevedon is an emerging author of sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal, and magical realism who loves taking fairy tales and turning them inside out. She lives in New York City with her husband and daughter. You can visit her online at www.gartengevedon.com and connect to her on Twitter, Instagram, Amazon, BookBub, and Goodreads.

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Also by Garten Gevedon

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