Dorothy Must Die
Page 31

Grandma Gert’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh dear,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, Amy. Sometimes I forget how strange it can be at first. I don’t do it on purpose—but when someone’s thoughts are as loud as yours it can be hard to know the difference.”
It took a moment for me to understand what she was saying.
“You can read my mind,” I said. Or maybe I just thought it.
The old woman nodded. “Something like that. Please don’t be afraid—it’s almost always what’s right there on the surface. I try not to go too much deeper than that. Not without permission.”
I didn’t know what to say and then I realized I didn’t have to say anything at all. Anything I could say, Grandma Gert already knew.
There was actually something comforting about that.
She was staring deep into my eyes. “Thank you,” she said. At first I didn’t know what she was thanking me for and then I did. It was for understanding. For not being afraid.
Then she gathered herself up, dropped my hand, and squared her shoulders.
“There will be plenty of time to talk about all of this later. First we need to get you cleaned up.” Her eyes drifted down to my scratched, bruised arms and bloody T-shirt. “Mombi certainly does know how to start a fight.”
Gert waved her hand, and the tree at the center of the cavern began to transform before my eyes. The roots swirled at my feet, the branches drew themselves down from the ceiling, the trunk began to melt like tar into the ground.
When it was done, she and I were standing next to a deep pool where the tree had stood before. Foamy white water bubbled up from somewhere beneath the ground, and steam wafted off the surface. It smelled clean and fresh.
“Go ahead,” Gert said, placing a hand on the small of my back and nudging me forward. “It will heal you.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice—I stepped right into the spring, not even bothering to take my clothes off. I didn’t need to: they began to disintegrate as soon as they touched the water.
I didn’t care that they were gone, and I didn’t care that I was naked in front of an old woman I’d just met. The minute the warm, clear water touched my bare skin, I felt my muscles melting as bubbles spun around me. I looked down at myself and watched, astonished, as days’ worth of dirt slid right off my body. But I was also surprised to see exactly how hurt I really was. Bruises peppered my arms and legs. Thick red tendrils of blood slipped from a gash across my abdomen that I didn’t remember getting in the first place.
When I looked up, I saw that Gert was beside me in the water, still fully clothed, her white dress billowing around her. I wasn’t sure why the water hadn’t affected her clothes the way it had mine. I hadn’t even noticed her get in with me.
She looked concerned, too, frowning down at my wounds. “This may hurt, Amy,” she said.
“Huh?” I asked, stretching. “No—it feels wonderful.”
“Take a deep breath,” she said, her tone now serious. With no further apology—before I’d even had a chance to do as she’d told me—she put her hand on my head and shoved me under the water.
The wound on my belly throbbed now with a deep, searing pain. Instinctively, I opened my mouth to scream as I struggled against the old woman’s grip. It was no use. Invisible hands grasped me from somewhere deep below the water, holding me in place. Somehow, I knew that all of them belonged to Gert.
I was on fire. I had escaped Dorothy, escaped the Tin Woodman and his metal army, only to find someone I trusted—someone who wanted to help me—and it had all been a trick.
All she meant to do was kill me.
Why? I screamed in my head, knowing she’d be able to hear. Why would you do this?
Sometimes only pain can heal, a cold, distant voice answered.
Just when I thought my lungs would burst—just as I felt consciousness beginning to leave me—the hands let go. My body floated up to the surface, where I gasped for air and found my footing on the smooth rocks lining the pool.
I spun around and faced Gert angrily. “Why?” I demanded again, this time out loud. “Why would you . . .”
“Because it was necessary,” Gert said shortly, pursing her lips. “I saved your life.”
I didn’t believe her at first, but my fingers touched smooth skin when I reached for my wound. I looked down. No gaping bloody hole. No invisible sutures. No scar. The wound had healed like it had never happened at all.
The bruises were gone, too. My skin looked dewy and softer than it had ever been, peachy-pink like all the dead skin had been sloughed off, as if every imperfection healed from the outside in.
It didn’t matter. She had saved me, okay, fine, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that it still felt like a betrayal. Gert had been one thing, and then she had become something else. I didn’t understand why. I didn’t know if I wanted to.
You had to trust me, Gert said. Her lips didn’t move. But you also have to learn not to trust anyone. Even me.
She sank slowly into the pool, and then she was gone.
By the edge of the water, I saw that a stack of towels and a gorgeous silk robe had been laid out for me. Had Gert put them there when I wasn’t paying attention? Or had they just appeared by magic?
I didn’t really care. I wanted to stay in here forever, but I knew that I couldn’t. When I felt the water beginning to turn lukewarm, I reluctantly stepped out and dried my newly healed body. I couldn’t help thinking that this was all another trick—something to try to lure me into a false sense of security. But my clothes were gone. I couldn’t walk around naked. The robe felt soft against my skin.