Yellow Brick War (Dorothy Must Die, #3)(60)

“Are you ready? I’ll take you to them.” I stared up at him, as dopey as a new puppy. Not letting Gert know how badly I wanted to jump Nox’s bones was definitely going to be a serious challenge.

“I—can you—I don’t want to risk using the shoes—” Flushing, I pointed to my greasy hair and unwashed face. A look of comprehension dawned on Nox’s face. He touched my cheek, and my hair untangled itself into a sleek curtain. The wrinkles fell away from the clothes I’d slept in, the bloodstains vanished, and the tears mended themselves. A minty-fresh taste filled my mouth.

“Thanks,” I said. I followed Nox to where the rest of the Quadrant was waiting in a clearing near Ozma’s tent palace.

“We have to talk about the shoes,” Gert said without preamble. “As long as they’re on your feet, you’re in danger.”

“We’re all in danger,” Glamora added.

“Their magic belongs with Oz,” Mombi added.

Gert nodded, her warm face creased with worry. “You haven’t had them that long. The shoes are too powerful for you to remove them yourself, but we should be able to help you take them off.”

I didn’t like the sound of that “should.” And there was something about their faces that sent a sliver of unease through me. I trusted them—more or less—but that didn’t mean they weren’t working from their own agenda. I’d always known there were limits to how much they told me. Gert, I knew, could hear my doubts, and so I tried to think about something else. Flowers. Kittens. Mochas.

“Lurline told me the shoes would serve me well if I trusted in their power,” I said. “Without them, I don’t think I can use magic at all.”

“Amy, we can’t trust anything that came to you from the Nome King,” Glamora said. “The risk is too huge.”

“Maybe Amy’s right,” Nox said. I knew he’d had no idea what the witches wanted, or he’d have warned me back in the tent.

“You’re not disagreeing with a Quadrant decision, are you?” Glamora snapped.

For a second, none of us spoke. The air was full of tension. I wanted to fight them, but even with the boots I doubted I’d be strong enough. Maybe I could steal the boots back again. Maybe I could find some other way to get home. I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t stop them if they wanted to overpower me—and I had no doubt they’d do it.

“Will it hurt?” I asked. “When you take them off, I mean.”

“It might,” Mombi said. Glamora shot her a look. “What?” the old witch grumbled. “She should know what she’s getting into.” Unexpectedly, she looked at me with sympathy. “We know you’ve been through a lot, Amy. I’m sorry to ask one more thing of you. We wouldn’t do it if we didn’t think the shoes could end up hurting you.”

“Ready for us to try?” Gert asked. I nodded. Nox gave me an anxious look, but he joined hands with the rest of the Quadrant.

The witches closed their eyes and began to chant softly. At first, nothing changed. And then my feet started to feel warm. The boots’ glow intensified into a radiant white light that hurt my eyes. The heat got more and more excruciating, and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry. I could feel myself floating into the air and hovering a few inches above the ground.

The chanting grew louder and then stopped. The witches’ magic surrounded me, probing at my feet and legs like dozens of strong arms poking and prodding me. When Mombi had said this might hurt, she wasn’t kidding. I’d had to go to the dentist when I was a kid to get three cavities filled at once, and I had the same powerless feeling. Knowing that what was happening was supposed to be good for me didn’t make it feel any better. Anger flooded through me. I couldn’t help it. I was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of hurting, tired of all this pain and death and doing the right thing for the wrong people. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to go the hell back to bed. I could feel the tidal wave of fury rising up in me, the same anger that had turned me into a literal monster once before. My feet were on fire.

“I want it to stop!” I yelled, and a wave of power burst out of me like water crashing through a dam. Mombi, Gert, Glamora, and Nox were thrown backward across the clearing. My fingernails lengthened into claws, my arms rippled with muscle. “Leave me ALONE!” I roared through a mouthful of jagged teeth. And then I felt a gentle, cooling surge of magic from the boots. Reminding me of who I was. Not a monster. Not under Oz’s control. Just Amy Gumm, a girl trying to save her family. The monster’s talons retracted back into my fingers. I pushed myself upright from where I’d crouched on all fours as the witches picked themselves up and brushed themselves off. Nox looked stunned. Glamora looked thoughtful.

“Well, then,” she said. “I guess we’ll have to find a different way to free you from the shoes.”

Mombi was looking at me with an unmistakable expression of worry. I knew they thought I was dangerous. I didn’t blame them. But they wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. Not yet anyway. I wished I could talk to Nox, but there was no safe way to do it.

“Fine,” I said. Let them think I’d given in. Let them think I was willing to give up the shoes as soon as they found a way to get them off my feet. I’d figure something out. I always did. “I’m going back to bed.” I didn’t look back at the witches when I left.