Page 12 of Ozma

Ozma tucked her dagger at her hip, then collected a piece of fruit and the lantern before going to the window. Little by little, she lifted the glass, each push releasing a soft creak. As Tip, she’d snuck out of this window too many times to count, so Mombi wouldn’t catch her leaving out the front door.

Outside, all was quiet, except for the flutter of faerie wings somewhere in the forest. The barrier had been out past the trees and around the lake, but not even the small faeries could slip past Mombi’s magic. She wondered if they tried to now or if they assumed the barrier was still in place.

Trudging quietly across the patch, she bit into the sweet fruit and attempted not to let herself think of Jack. Only focus on the next step, which was finding Mombi.

The hut stood quiet and dark as she opened the door. An eerie feeling poured over her as she stepped inside. Darkness always made things worse. Ozma’s hands trembled as she thought about trees from the dark place reaching out with thorned limbs.

The sweet, rotten scent assaulted her as she entered Mombi’s room. Holding the lantern higher, she surveyed the space and the messy stacks of books.

There had to be something here she could use. Ozma lit the candles along the wall with the flame of her lantern, giving herself more light. She picked a book up and thumbed through its yellowed pages, the drawings of mutilated bodies, blood spilling from fae babies’ mouths. The things Mombi had done in the past with these spells churned her stomach.

After finding nothing useful, she searched another and another. Most were spells that involved conjuring up the dead or opening doors to dark worlds.

There had to be a location spell somewhere. Mombi always had an alternate plan and letting Jack go to town—even compelled—was a risk. The witch would want to track him down if he never came back. She closed her eyes, the map of Oz lighting up within her, hoping that she could possibly find Mombi this time. But she couldn’t, nothing had changed.

Her hand halted when she discovered, not what she was looking for, but something else, circled in what appeared to be faded blood. A curse to take away a fae’s true identity, which would allow them to have their magic hidden too. As she turned the page, a withering folded note, tucked inside, caught her attention. She opened it and read:

Steal the child growing in Lurline’s belly.

Use magic to alter the child’s identity.

Find silver slippers to draw magic from the child.

Create immortality.

Ozma placed the note in the book and slammed it shut. That must be why Mombi had changed her instead of killing her. The Wizard… The shoes had brought him to Mombi’s the last time because of the burst of Ozma’s magic. She didn’t have any now, though… And according to the note, it had to be because the slippers were drawing the magic from her right now, the way they must have been while she was locked away in the dark place.

Chest heaving, she put aside what she’d uncovered about herself for now. Because it didn’t matter in that moment. Finding Mombi did. After going through several more books involving hearts of sprites, heads of gnomes, fingers and eyes of fauns, she came across something that could potentially work. All she would need to do was create a concoction with a piece of skin from herself and something personal from the other fae, along with a few other things that Mombi would already have there. Then chant the spell words and she would be able to follow a magic trail to her target that only she could see.

This is it. She grinned as she tore the pages from the book and placed them in her satchel for safekeeping. Tomorrow she would come back and create the mixture.

Ozma left the house and glanced at Jack’s. Her chest tightened, and she realized she didn’t want to go back there for the remainder of the night. She wanted to bathe from her long journey, then she would sleep beside the lake until morning.

While staring up at the night sky, Ozma studied the full moon, and made a wish for Reva and Crow, then Tin and Thelia. For their safety.

Pushing past several trees, she slipped into the forest. The crooked limbs seemed to stretch up to the stars as she walked around the group of small boulders and stopped in front of the lake. The moon reflected off the glassy surface while the liquid rippled. Setting down the lantern in a patch of grass beside the log that was hers and Jack’s, Ozma removed her satchel, the rope across her waist, and dress. She caught a whiff of herself and she nearly choked—bathing was the perfect choice.

As she stepped into the cool water, the liquid swaying against her, Ozma ignored the shiver that rolled through her body. She swam out to the center, practically feeling the grains from the desert wash away. Once she found Mombi, Ozma wondered how exactly she should kill her. The dagger through her heart? Across her throat? Through her eye? Her first kill had been the Wheeler with Reva. Before she’d changed into Ozma, the thought of murder would have terrified her. But Reva had taught her that sometimes it was necessary. To make things better, it was sometimes crucial.

Once she cleaned off well enough, Ozma started to swim back to the edge of the lake when aclick, clicksound erupted from behind one of the trees. She stilled mid-swim, breaths halting, and whirled around in the water. It came again, louder than before. She’d never heard anything like it. The moon gave off light but not enough to illuminate the entire forest. Shadows enfolded around her as the wind blew.

A splash into the water made her suck in a sharp breath. She didn’t linger—she swam, faster than she ever had. Behind her, the thing thrashing through the lake drew closer. Two hands grabbed her by the waist, claws digging in, drawing blood. Ozma released a terrified scream as she was yanked beneath the water, her attacker pulling her down, deeper and deeper.

She shoved her elbow back and struck the soft flesh of whatever it was. The claws loosened and Ozma swam rapidly to the surface. Just when she caught a gulp of air, the creature snatched her ankle and hauled her down again. A hand clamped around her mouth, and she bit it, but the creature didn’t relent.

Her heart pounded harder, her lungs growing thirstier and thirstier for air. Ozma fought to hold her eyes open, but she couldn’t. This wasn’t the way she’d ever expected to die, not in this lake that had always been safe. The last thought that came to her was if she could so easily be killed, then perhaps she wasn’t a true queen after all.

Chapter Six

Jack

The slide of wood-on-wood woke Jack. He knew exactly what that sound was—the bedroom window. He stayed where he was on the worn, tattered rug, feigning sleep. Ozma was sneaking out and he wanted to know why. If Tip’s sister was running off to report to Mombi, he needed to know. The floor creaked and the rustle of her skirts filled the air as Ozma slipped through the window.

Jack’s pulse raced as he forced himself to continue lying there.One. Two. Three.He cracked his eyes open. The moth-eaten curtains were closed so she wouldn’t be able to see him moving about. Slowly, he got to his feet and crept into the bedroom. The spot on the floor was vacant where Ozma had been sleeping and the window was, indeed, open. Peeking out into the night, he caught a glimpse of Ozma’s golden hair weaving through the pumpkin field toward Mombi’s hut.

“What are you doing, Blossom?” he whispered to himself.

He waited until she was halfway to the hut before darting out the window after her—the door would make too much noise. His bare feet landed quietly in the dirt and he slipped through the shadows, watching her sprint. If Ozma wasn’t working with Mombi, what did she want so badly inside the hut? And why would she need to sneak away to find it? Sure, there were a lot of things of the witch’s that many fae would desire, but some fae were more nefarious than others. He’d been impulsive when he’d scooped her up and brought her home with him, but she’d looked ready to collapse. And perhaps he’d been hoping a good rest would make her more eager to speak to him. He had so many questions—the mirror she lived in, the dark place, who her and Tip’s parents were…

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