Yellow Brick War
Page 58

The tirium blossom turned toward me and then exploded silently into a starburst of tiny white lights, like fireflies, that swirled around us and drifted away across the grass. Where they caught on leaves or branches they hung glowing until the soft white light finally faded away. The flower was so gorgeous—and so fragile. Like everything good in this crazy world. Like hope. Like whatever had started between me and Nox that we weren’t allowed to finish. I felt my eyes filling with tears, and Nox reached up to brush them away.
“I forgot Dorothy didn’t destroy everything beautiful in Oz,” I said.
“She didn’t destroy you.”
“Not for lack of trying,” I said, and then realized the implication of what he was saying and blushed. I was grateful for the darkness that hid my flaming cheeks.
“My mom would have loved to see something like this. I wish I could’ve said good-bye to her, at least,” I said quietly.
“You’re not going to die,” he said fiercely. “Not tomorrow anyway.”
“I hope not. But I meant when we came back to Oz. I want to go home somehow. But let’s face it, I’ll probably never see her again. I just wish there was some way I could have told her I love her.”
“You can see her,” Nox said. He pointed to a puddle of water at the base of the tirium plant, closing his eyes. I remembered the scrying spell Gert had used to show me an image of my mom back in the caverns of the Wicked. I bent down for a closer look as power flowed from Nox’s hands into the clear water. At first, all I could see was grass and leaves. But then the surface of the water shimmered and grew opaque, and I was looking into the living room of my mom’s new apartment. She was sitting on the couch, her eyes red as though she’d been crying. Jake was sitting on one side with his arms around her. And on the other—
“Dustin and Madison?” I breathed in surprise. Dustin was saying something while Madison nodded, bouncing Dustin Jr. on her knee. And over them all loomed Assistant Principal Strachan.
There was something in my mom’s lap, I realized. Something they were all looking at. A leatherbound book with charred edges. “Dorothy’s journal!” I exclaimed. “My mom must have gone through my room after the tornado and found it. But if they realize what it is—”
“They might figure out Oz is real,” Nox breathed.
“They couldn’t,” I argued. “You don’t understand how hard it is for people from my world to believe in this stuff without seeing it with their own eyes. If they realize what the journal is, they’ll probably just think it proves that Dorothy was a real person—who was totally bonkers.” A strange feeling crept down my spine—warm, heavy, and itchy, like a drop of molten metal rolling along my vertebrae.
“But I thought . . . ,” I said, trailing off as I leaned forward. Assistant Principal Strachan looked up, as though he could sense me. And then, impossibly, his eyes met mine.
And they weren’t Assistant Principal Strachan’s angry eyes. They were the silvery-pale eyes of the Nome King. I gasped. He smiled at me and put one hand on my mom’s shoulder and the other on Madison’s as they turned the pages of Dorothy’s journal.
Do not forget, Miss Gumm, how much you have to lose.
His voice slid into my thoughts and I flinched.
Remove our little friend Dorothy or do not; it is no matter to me either way. But I will come for you very soon. And then, Miss Gumm, what you do will matter very much to me indeed.
I gasped aloud as his thoughts pushed into my mind as if he was just trying to show off how easy it would be to control me. No! I thought fiercely. The boots sent a warm pulse of magic through my body and the Nome King’s grip loosened.
Do not think your shoes are enough to keep me at bay for long, Miss Gumm, he hissed. As suddenly as it had come, his hold on my mind was gone. The vision of my mom’s living room burst like a bubble popping and the puddle evaporated with a steaming hiss, knocking me back to the ground.
“Amy?” Nox was shaking me. “What happened? What did you see?” I was groggy and my thoughts were sluggish as if I’d just woken up from a long, bad dream.
“The Nome King,” I said thickly. “He’s with my mom. He said he’s coming for me.”
Nox breathed in sharply. “Coming for you to do what?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t care if we kill Dorothy. He’s got something else in mind.”
Nox was silent, thinking. “I don’t like this,” he said finally.
I laughed. “You think I do? But we have to kill Dorothy, even if it’s part of the Nome King’s plan.” <