“I do,” I say, because Taavi Toto has been by my side my entire life. He’s always been there for me, through Uncle Henry’s abuse, through my family’s deaths, through puberty and asshole boys, catty girls, school bullies … all of it.
The three of us head into the woods, avoiding colorful mushrooms, and tiny wooden houses that sit nestled in bushes. There’s an air of mystery and magic here that both terrifies and fascinates me at the same time.
At one point, we pass a large pond where an old woman sits mumbling to herself and washing clothes. When my gaze swings her way, Taavi snatches my chin and forcibly turns me away.
I don’t dare look at her again.
After a while, Stryker grabs me by the arm.
“There’s a little cottage up ahead. Shall we rest there?”
“Assuming there’s nobody else occupying it,” Taavi says, seemingly resigned to the wizard’s presence. “And assuming that—if there’s no one inside—you’re welcome to join us. Just because Oz took mercy on you does not mean we want you as a travel companion.”
“Oh, come on, Taavi,” I say, smacking his bare, muscular arm with the back of my hand. It’s as hard as a goddamn rock. “The man lost his fiancée, and almost got killed by his friend. Give him a break.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that Isaac was ever a friend …” Stryker ventures, but Taavi ignores him, circling the log cabin three times before he dares to head up the steps. He knocks once, twice, three times, but there’s no answer.
Finally, he opens the door and checks around inside.
“It’s empty, and it clearly hasn’t been occupied in some time. I’m wary about staying here, but it’s likely better than a hollow tree or a cave …”
“Is there a bed?” I ask, clasping my hands together, and Taavi nods, slowly. “Okay, then that seals the deal. I’ll take the risk of some angry homeowner stumbling over us.”
“Whoever it was that built this cabin, in the middle of these woods, would be a force to reckon with,” Stryker starts, steepling his fingers together. I ignore him, bouncing up the stairs, and trying not to sob with relief when I see the carefully made bed inside. It’s just a twin, but it’ll do. At least for me. The boys will have to fight over the single chair and the rug, but I figure that I did save Stryker’s life, and Taavi likely wouldn’t take the bed even if I offered it, so …
“Dibs!” I flop onto the bed, and dig my legs under the covers, breathing in a sweet pine scent as I bury my face into the pillow with a sigh. Taavi takes a seat on the rug next to me as Stryker pulls the door closed and swings the wooden board into place to block the door.
“I’ll be watching you tonight,” Taavi growls as the wizard takes a seat in the brown chair near the fireplace with a sigh.
“Then you’ll be watching an awful lot of nothing. Sorry to get your hopes up, guardian, but I’m far too tired to make the moves on your wizard tonight.”
I smother a small laugh as I turn over and drag the blankets close to my face, sleep creeping over me faster than I expected.
I end up falling asleep to the sound of Taavi’s growls, certain that this time, I’ll wake up back in Kansas.
Even if I’d rather not.The Ruthlessness of the Tin GunmanWhen I awake, the sun is shining through the trees and Taavi has long been out chasing breakfast. He tosses a trio of dead birds onto the small table at the end of the bed as I struggle to sit up, blinking through the bright beams of sunshine peeking in through the windows.
“I can’t believe I’m still here,” I whisper, more to myself than Taavi, rubbing at my tired eyes with my fists.
“Oz …” Taavi starts, and I can hear the hitch in his voice as my command takes hold. No calling me Ozora or mistress, not anymore. He comes over to kneel beside my bed, shirtless and shoeless, the muscles in his arms and chest catching my attention. “Calling this a delusion was fine, at first. It helped you deal with the shock, but we’re beyond that point now. You understand that, right?”
“How old are you, Toto?” I ask, slipping up and calling Taavi slave again. Oops. I grimace slightly, but the name doesn’t seem to bother him. Maybe it took on a different connotation, with my little sisters giggling that name as they kissed his snout, or Mom murmuring Toto lovingly as she stroked his triangular ears back.
If she really was from Oz, then shouldn’t she have known the meaning?
“My age is not important,” he says gruffly, forcing me to meet that serious brown gaze of his. “What’s important is that you take this seriously.”
