Page 53 of Ozma

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jack

Before Jack knew it, Tik-Tok had strutted out of sight. A portion of Jack’s power had transferred to Ozma, leaving him feeling slightly weakened, and they were alone inside the barrier with a dead guard. Unless Oz counted—in which case, it was hopefully only him, Ozma, and a soon-to-be-dead immortal.Fucking insanity.Were they really doing this? The most dangerous thing he’d fought before Ozma returned from the dark place were stubborn weeds. Now they were about to facethe most dangerous being in Oz.Stealing Ozma’s power had made the Wizard that way, but unless they could revert the magic to her, there was little hope of winning.

“Ozma,” he said, his voice shaking slightly.

She looked up at him with her large blue eyes, and he saw his own fear reflected there. “We’ll be all right. We just have to get the slippers and everything else will work out.”

That seemed overly simplistic, but there was no turning back now. “I suppose, we’re off to kill the Wizard, then,” he said with forced lightness.

Ozma nodded and, together, they crept closer to the house. The outer walls were made of black wood, assumably from the surrounding trees, but the rounded door and shutters were painted emerald green. Only faint candlelight burned through the windows and no smoke billowed from the chimney, despite the growing chill in the air.

Every step Jack took beside Ozma felt like it would be his last. A trap would spring, or an alarm would go off, and then it would all be over. So, when they made it up to the house without incident, it was almost too good to be true.

Ozma stretched up onto her toes and peered into the window. Jack’s scant meal from earlier threatened to reappear.Don’t see us,he prayed as he joined her at the glass.Please don’t fucking see us.

Inside, light filtered into a living room from the hallway. A rug was rolled up beside an unlit fireplace and most of the furniture was covered with white sheets. An overstuffed brown couch and a dark, low table were the only things exposed. Papers were scattered across the table beside a glass half-full of amber liquid.

A small vine had managed to flatten completely and work its way into a narrow crack under the windowsill, with the help of Jack’s power via Ozma. He’d barely felt the small trickle of magic pass to her. The vine unwrapped itself from the latch now that it was open, and slithered back to the flowerbox.

“It’s unlocked now,” Ozma said with a proud smirk. She placed her palms on the window and slid it upward. To Jack’s surprise, it didn’t stick or creak.

“We can’t just crawl in through the window,” he hissed.

Ozma shot him a perplexed look. “Why not? It’s not like we haven’t done it a thousand times before.”

A smile tugged at Jack’s lips but didn’t fully form. It was true—they’d both snuck out of the window in Jack’s cabin more times than he could remember—but the consequences were very different. Mombi would beat them for disobedience or possibly make them go hungry for a day or two, but the Wizard would kill them. At least, he would kill Jack.

Jack took Ozma’s face in his hands and pressed a desperate, wild kiss to her lips. He drank her in as if she were the last breath of a dying male, which was possibly true. She returned the kiss with equal vigor, but broke away too soon, panting.

“We’ll finishthatlater,” she promised. Then, without waiting for him to agree to her plan, she slipped easily through the open window. Jack scrambled in behind her less gracefully but just as silent.

Over the pounding of his own heart, a cheerful hum carried through the room. It was slightly muffled by the walls but became clearer the closer it came. He quickly darted behind a covered settee with Ozma right beside him. They hid not a moment too soon as the chandelier flashed magically above the center of the room. Two flashes later and the candles remained lit, casting the room in ghostly white light.

Now what?he mouthed.

Ozma held a finger to her lips and peered between a gap in the furniture as someone walked into the room. A gasp left her lips a moment later and she slapped a hand over her mouth at the tiny sound.That’s a fucking great sign. What had she seen,exactly? He wasn’t in a position to look without being caught and he couldn’t very well ask her.

The humming hit a crescendo before ending abruptly in favor of a softthumpfollowed by a loud yawn. “Right, right, right,” the Wizard mumbled to himself. His voice sounded different than Jack remembered. Less raspy.Wasit the Wizard? Or perhaps another guard?

“Where was I?” he continued with a shuffle of papers.

Ozma tapped Jack’s knee and, when he looked at her, she motioned beneath the settee. There was a decent sized gap between the cloth and the floorboards. Jack eased himself down to his hands and knees and peered beneath.

In front of the brown couch were two feet.

And on those feet, the silver slippers.

The material sparkled with every small movement the Wizard made. They hugged his feet tightly, showcasing large bunions that stretched the sides outward, and the flat soles tapped on the bare floor with a softtick, tick, tick.Ithadto be him if he wore the slippers—there was no chance he would allow anyone else to put them on. Ozma nudged Jack’s knee again and made a cutting motion with two fingers.

She … wanted to cut the slippers from the Wizard? Even if it were possible to cut the shoes, it would ruin them. She needed their magic to get her power back—and her wings.

Seeming to sense his confusion, Ozma made the cutting motion again, this time against his ankle. Was she serious? Cut hisfeetoff? Why not simply kill him and take the shoes from his corpse? It seemed safer. Though, he supposed, in order to kill Oz, they needed to strip him of his power first. Which meant slippers first, death second.

Just fucking great.

Ozma nudged him gently with her elbow.

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