Dorothy Must Die
Page 73

The Wizard smiled sadly and fiddled with his boutonniere. “Of course,” he said. “Where would Oz be if not for the Scarecrow’s great experiments? Ravens with human ears; men with bicycle wheels instead of legs—it’s a glorious world we live in now, isn’t it? It almost reminds me of the one I came from.” At that he looked back up at me. It was almost like he was trying to gauge my reaction.
I didn’t let myself react. “Yes, sir,” was all I said.
“I hear,” the Wizard mused, “that the Scarecrow is working on his greatest experiment yet.”
I perked up. This was exactly the type of information that would be valuable to the Order. I had to be careful not to seem too interested, though.
“In his lab, sir?” I asked casually.
“Oh yes,” the Wizard replied. “Day and night in his secret laboratory. Not sleeping. Probably working his fingers to the . . . well, I’m not sure if the Scarecrow actually has bones. But you get the point.”
I nodded enthusiastically and tried not to choke on my own fake sincerity. “He sacrifices so much.”
The Wizard’s face lit up.
“Those who have sacrificed always have the most to lose,” he said, watching me closely. “Ever hear that expression, Astrid?”
I shook my head. “No, sir.”
“Ah. You will, my dear. You will.”
What the hell did that mean?
Before I could ask, the Wizard tipped his hat and strolled out.
My heart was pounding on my way back to my room. What was the Wizard trying to tell me? Did he have some clue as to who I was or what I was here to do? It was like trying to put a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle together without the picture on the box.
Ozma. The Wizard. The palace was full of cryptic oddities that I couldn’t quite get a handle on. Who could I trust?
It was almost like the universe wanted to provide me with an answer when I opened my door to find Pete sitting on my bed.
I jumped back and gasped. I had been starting to wonder whether Pete even existed at all, and now he was sitting on my bed without a care in the world—like he belonged there.
I had to remind myself that it wasn’t my bed. It was Astrid’s bed. Which meant he was here to see her, not me. But why?
All I wanted to do was run over to Pete and hug him—to tell him It’s me, Amy, and I’m okay. I wanted to tell him about Mombi and the Order, and about Gert, and how she had died. About why I was here and what I was going to do. I couldn’t tell him any of those things, though.
I closed the door behind me just in case anyone passed by in the hallway, and then tried to get my head together.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, in the most noncommittal voice I could manage. I didn’t want to seem too surprised to see him. I still didn’t know why he was in Astrid’s room. What if they were friends?
A thought struck me. What if they were a thing? That would be awkward.
Pete stood up from the bed. His face spread into a wide grin and he stepped over to me and wrapped his wiry arms around me in a huge hug. I didn’t let myself give in to it, but I didn’t fight it either.
“You made it,” he said, sounding choked up. “You’re here.”
My entire body stiffened. I pulled myself out of his grip and pushed him away.
“Of course I’m here. It’s my room.”
“I came as soon as I could. Sometimes it’s hard for me to get away.”
I didn’t know what Pete was playing at. Yes, he had been kind to me. He had been my friend. But he’d been cagey, too, and I still didn’t know who—or what—he was. I still didn’t know if I could trust him, given what I now knew from the Order.
As much as I wanted to, I knew that I couldn’t. Nothing was safe around here.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said carefully. “And I’m not supposed to have anyone in my room. You should leave.”
Pete put a soft hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Amy,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend—I know it’s you. Your secret’s safe with me. At least, it’s as safe as Star is.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out my pet rat. When her little white face peered up at me and she gave a squeak, I couldn’t hold back anymore and tears welled up in my eyes.
All the uncertainty and fear and strangeness of the last few weeks came flooding through my body at the familiar sight of her. I reached out my hands and Star crawled into them.
“How did you know?” I asked, looking up at Pete. “How did you find me?”
“You can change your face, Amy, but I’d know you anywhere,” he said. It wasn’t any kind of answer. I wiped a tear from my cheek and studied Pete. His expression was as impassive and mysterious as his words.
I clasped Star to my chest.
“Is there something wrong with my disguise?” I asked. It was something I’d been worried about since my run-in with Ozma, and if Pete could see through it, what was to stop someone like Dorothy or Glinda from realizing I wasn’t who I said I was?
“That’s not it,” Pete said. “Whoever cast the spell knew what they were doing. It will fool them all. Everyone except me.”
I suddenly remembered what they’d told me before I left the Order—that I’d have a handler in the palace, another one of the Order’s agents who would be keeping an eye on me. Someone to watch my back and, eventually, give me instructions.