Page 23 of Ozma

This time the stag stomped his feet and dragged the wagon forward with a jolt. Ozma’s back struck the wagon, and she straightened in her seat. As they moved through the dark, the wagon bobbed side to side, and she hoped Jack would be all right in there until they got home.

Ozma wished the vial’s light still worked, the way it had when they went through the tunnel earlier. What Jack hadn’t known was that the blue light from the magical line had lit up the area for her. She’d seen what was in there. The beasts clinging to the walls, blood staining their mouths and sharp teeth, hissing, prepared to strike. But they hadn’t. She thought it had something to do with the light from the vial, like they were afraid of it, even though she wasn’t sure if they could see it.

The stag pulled the wagon into the tunnel and Ozma shivered, the inky black sweeping closed like a curtain around her. It wouldn’t take too dreadfully long for them to get out, but what if one of the creatures decided to attack? As if in answer to her thoughts, hissing reverberated off the walls. A hard thump dropped down on top of the wagon, rattling it, and Ozma yanked out her dagger. But she couldn’t see a damn thing.

A small body landed beside her, the plank she sat on shaking as sharp talons clawed her arm. She thrust her blade into whatever part of the creature it was, and the beast released an agonized howl. Another crashed behind her onto the wagon. As she prepared her dagger again, a bright light swirled around her, and for a moment, she thought it was from her, that her magic had returned.

But it hadn’t.

Before her, the gray stag glowed a bright yellow, body and antlers, lighting up the tunnel like rays of sunshine. The creatures hissed, baring their fangs, rumpling their wings as they scurried up the walls. Their spines protruded through their thin skin, and she wasn’t sure if they even had any eyes. The light yellow of the stag turned to a pale blue, shining, and he continued straight down the path, unbothered. All the while, the creatures growled, driving their talons at the walls in rage.

“You saved us,” Ozma said in awe as she watched the colors of the stag change from one shade to another. His brightness remained until they exited the tunnel, then the hue dimmed to his usual light gray.

As they traveled toward the market, it was mostly quiet. A couple of fae with curling horns outside a wagon were groping each other while kissing. Shops stood dark and empty. Lit lanterns hung on several of the wagons where the owners were probably sleeping inside, waiting to begin again the following day.

The sliver of moon shone brighter than before, the sky full of twinkling stars as they rode off the bricked road and entered the forest toward the patch. Ozma thought again about Jack. It had to be the same thing that had happened to her. Perhaps he’d been angry enough to break free from whatever curse Mombi had placed upon him.

She wondered, if Jack hadn’t been there, would she have been able to kill Mombi on her own? That was the second time he’d saved her since she’d been back in Oz. It seemed she was always being rescued. Even Reva had defeated all the Wheelers, aside from the one that was an easy kill for Ozma. She’d escaped the dark place because of Thelia. With the beasts in the Sands, she’d only gotten away because one had attacked the other. A tinge of doubt spread through her that maybe she couldn’t defeat the Wizard. Not without Jack or Reva or Thelia. Or a color-changing stag, apparently…

Blowing out an exaggerated breath, Ozma pulled on the reins as they neared Jack’s hut. When the wagon came to a stop, she leapt to the grass and released the stag from his binds.

“Go wherever you wish.” Ozma took out the fruit from earlier and gave it to him, then moved toward the wagon door. A nudge came at her arm, the stag following her. “Are you still hungry? I’ll give you more fruit if you help us on one more journey.”

The stag stomped its feet against the ground and threw back its head as if in agreement.

“There’s a creek we passed, if you want to get something to drink. We’ll leave in the morning, but only if Jack is all right.” The stag seemed to understand, but studied her for a long moment before venturing toward the forest.

Ozma clasped the handle to the wagon door and drew it open, finding Jack still asleep on his back. What if it wasn’t fatigue from using his magic that made him sleep? What if Mombi had cast a dark spell with her last breath and he never woke up?

Stepping inside the wagon, she knelt next to him. Jack groaned, his shoulders moving, like he was trying to stir himself from a nightmare. Out the door, a sizzling sounded, growing louder and closer by the second. She surveyed the patch, and her eyes widened. Around the wagon, the vegetation started to grow, spread. Shadows shifted as pumpkins bloomed to full-size, some getting bigger and bigger, larger than she’d ever seen.

She shook Jack wildly, attempting to wake him before things got completely out of hand. “Jack!” she shouted.

He jerked forward, his eyes bursting open, settling on her. Clasping her wrist, his voice came out raspy. “It was a dream...”

Ozma glanced out the door, at the hovering silhouettes from the giant pumpkins. “No, Jack. It wasn’t.”

Chapter Ten

Jack

The night passed in a haze of fever sweats and vivid dreams. In one, Jack had a pumpkin for a head and a chicken for a friend. Another forced him to watch Tip explode into dust over and over again. All were fucking terrible, but Ozma never left his side. She was there with a cool cloth for his forehead or to run her fingers through his damp hair to calm him.

Jack watched her now. She had pulled one of his rickety dining chairs to his bedside and rested her head on the mattress beside his thighs. There was a vague memory of waking inside a wagon and her insisting the events that had played out weren’t a dream. Then he’d stumbled inside with her help and collapsed again on the bed.

It was a shock to find out that Mombi had suppressed his powers. That hehadpowers. That was the only reason he could think of for what had happened—fae didn’t often gain abilities after maturity. He had always thought he was born without magic, but to have it blast out of him like that… And for that magic to deliver such a bloody death. Even now his muscles ached. His head was clear though. Clear enough to know that Mombi was finally fucking dead.

Breaking out of a curse is a bitch, though.

Jack had left his cart at the market, but he didn’t give a shit about that now. He eased himself up with a soft grunt, and flicked the tip of Ozma’s pointed ear. She leapt up with a squeak.Cute. Jack grinned and his chapped lips cracked slightly.

“Jack?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said. He felt less heavy and his breaths didn’t hurt like they had the night before.

She let out a relieved sigh. “You had me worried.”

“Sorry, Blossom. You won’t be rid of me that easily.”

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