Page 5 of Ozma

If Mombi didn’t want to tell him her reasoning, he wasn’t going to change her mind. “All right,” he said and returned to the same chores he’d done a million times. Over and over. Day after day.

Hours later, with the field clear of any unwanted growth, Jack tossed the empty bucket in the work shed. It landed with a loud clatter and knocked over a rake, which sent pouches of pumpkin seeds tumbling from a shelf. He dug his fists into his aching lower back and the thought of leaning over to collect them filled him with dread. It would be a miracle if he was able to stand again after an entire day on his knees. Besides, he was expected at Mombi’s hut.Damn witch.

“Tomorrow,” he said to no one. The seeds were sealed and it wasn’t like they would go anywhere.

He shut and locked the shed, pocketing the keys. Mombi would demand that he give them back now that his work was done. Likely so Jack wouldn’t get any ideas about murdering her with a trowel in the middle of the night. Not that he hadn’t imagined it before. A trowel, a spade, a cultivator… If they had it, he’d dreamt of killing the witch with it. The only thing holding him back was the barrier and what would happen to it—to him and, once, Tip—if she died. Would they be trapped inside forever? Her spells weren’t made using normal fae magic.

Jack sighed again and turned toward the hut on the other side of the field.Might as well get it over with.

Trudging toward Mombi’s, he kicked at the pumpkin leaves that crept over onto the grass. Maybe he should’ve stopped for another jar of alcohol first. His mind was too clear now, his tongue feeling too sharp. Deep down, he knew he was about to get himself in trouble. Trouble that Tip would’ve been able to talk him out of creating. But Tip was dead. Jack knocked loudly on Mombi’s door and it instantly swung open. The witch poked him hard in the chest with the end of her cane.

Poke me again and you’ll find that cane shoved so far up your—

“Get the wagon,” she snapped.

Jack ground his teeth together. He’djustbeen at the shed beside the maroon and blue wagon, the bed of it covered in curving wood, forming an arc, but he returned for it without a word. Mombi usually moved it with her magic until she located the stag she’d enchanted. How the hell was he supposed to push it on his own? Even if she’d had the damn thing when Tip was alive, the two of them wouldn’t have been able to move it together.

Jack went behind the wagon and pushed with his shoulder.Yeah-fucking-right.Then he tried pulling from the front, digging his heels into the dirt, but it didn’t budge. Finally, heaving from exertion, he stomped back to Mombi. “Look,” he said more harshly than was smart. “That’s not moving unless I get some help.”

“You’re pathetic. Always have been.” Mombi tossed a fabric bag at his face.

He caught it with anoomph.“Pathetic or not, your wagon’s not going anywhere unless you do it yourself.”

The witch grumbled under her breath and shot a streak of yellow magic across the field. It hit the wagon with a smallcrack.Mombi circled her hand in the air, reeling the wagon up to the hut in less time than it had taken Jack to attempt the same thing.

“Load my belongings,” she barked when it creaked to a stop in front of the hut. “Quickly now.”

Jack opened the back of the wagon and set the bag inside. “Are we going somewhere?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“I’m leaving.” She disappeared into the hut and glass clinked together. “Dorothy has returned to Oz and I have to help the Wizard prepare.”

Dorothy?Who the fuck was that and what did she have to do with Oz?

“What are you waiting for?” she snapped.

Jack hurried to grab a large trunk and heaved it out to the wagon. Mombi was leaving? For how long? Did that mean he was free? His mind spun and spun with possibilities. Even if she was only leaving for a short time, he would be alone. He would befree of her. For more than a handful of hours.

“When will you be back?” Jack asked hesitantly. His palms sweated with anticipation—if she was gone long enough, he couldreallyexamine the barrier for a weakness. Maybe he could escape too.

“When that little bitch is dead.”

That didn’t explain a damn thing about how long it would take. “What should I do?”

“What you always do!” she cried so loudly that her voice cracked. “Do I have to tell you how to breathe? How to shit? Oz have mercy, you’re not a youngling anymore. Even then, you were alwayspitiful.” Mombi hobbled out of the hut and slammed the door behind her. She set a crate full of jingling glass containers on top of her trunk and used her magic to push the wagon toward the barrier. “Where is that damn stag? I’m not pulling this wagon the whole journey myself!”

Probably looking for a hunter’s trap so it doesn’t have to drag your ass across Loland.

“I haven’t seen him,” Jack said. He’d only seen the stag a handful of times, and never on the farm. Mombi always released him outside the barrier, enchanted him to return when she needed him, then hauled the wagon home with her magic.

Mombi grumbled to herself and sent out a small burst of power. To call the stag, Jack assumed, but he didn’t question it. His mind was too busy racing over the possibilities before him. Of what it could mean. Unless she never returned and he couldn’t find a way to escape… He swallowed nervously.

Pulse racing, Jack watched her walk through the barrier. As much as he hated her, he didn’t want to die on this farm. Alone. Trapped. The further Mombi got, the faster his heart thumped.Fuck! I donotwant to become pumpkin fertilizer.Perhaps it wasn’t too late to call out and offer his services. She could enchant him to help with this Dorothy and then he would be outside the barrier. The chances for escape would be greater… But then he would be stuck at Mombi’s side for who knows how long.

Before he could make a decision, a shimmer of magic rippled over the pumpkin patch, disintegrating the spell that held him captive. The invisible cage was gone. His jaw dropped in disbelief. “What the fuck just happened?”

Chapter Three

Ozma

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