“The head of Dorothy’s army, General Mannix,” Stryker explains. “The fact that she sent him here instead of one of her lesser minions doesn’t bode well for any of us. I told you: Isaac must’ve filled her head with stories. I bet he told her all about the great storm wizard he encountered in the woods.”
“Oz is a great storm wizard,” Taavi snarls, keeping my hand in an iron-clad grip. “And she’ll be greater still once she has a handle on her magic.”
“Which is exactly what Dorothy’s worried about,” Stryker muses, but then we’re moving too quickly to talk, following Taavi’s lead. As interesting a person as Stryker is, it’s clear he’s used to having his guardian around to deal with everyday shit; he has no problem following Taavi’s orders.
We duck under Jurassic-sized ferns, digging even deeper into the strange mysteries of the woods. There are mushrooms as big as I am, and carnivorous plants with bright yellow and green cups, lined with teeth.
And they wonder why I might actually be interested in going back to Kansas.
There aren’t any sharp-toothed, people-eating plants there. Just drive-thru coffee, hot fries at my favorite diner, and technology.
As we move deeper into the forest, and my nerves stretch to the breaking point, I try to remind myself that this is all a delusion brought on by … something. It’s all just fake, a fragment of my imagination.
“Ow, fuck,” I snap when my arm brushes against the teeth of one of the plants, and it bites down as hard as it can. Taavi turns on a dime, and tears the large bell-shaped cup from the tree, snapping its stem. As soon as that happens, the teeth release, and I’m able to peel the plant off of me.
But it hurts.
And there’s a lot of blood.
I find myself stuck there, staring at the bright smear of ruby red.
“We’ll have to bandage this when we stop for the night,” Taavi says, gritting his teeth as he drops the duffel and pulls out a small sweat towel. He ties it around my arm as I stand there, wide-eyed and shaking. “It’s not too bad, and those plants aren’t poisonous, so don’t worry.”
His words sound hollow and far away, like he’s at the end of a long tunnel.
Only, he’s standing right beside me. And I hurt. And I’m bleeding.
I’m bleeding.
My knees go weak, and I collapse. The only thing that keeps me from hitting the ground is Taavi’s arm around my waist, hauling me back to my feet.
“I’m sorry to be such a bother, but really need to haul ass out of here,” Stryker says, glancing back in the direction we’ve just come. I don’t know what he can see out there because it’s black as pitch, but me, I’m too busy staring at the red that soaks the white towel on my arm.
That hurt.
I’m bleeding.
I’m bleeding.
“This is real,” I say, choking on the words as they slip past my suddenly dry lips. I can’t stop staring at the wound on my arm. “This is all real.”
“I’m glad you’ve finally come to that conclusion, Oz, but we need to keep moving. Can you walk?” I look up at Taavi’s face, blinking past my shock. But then I try to talk, and the words won’t come out. With a grunt, Taavi nods at the duffel bag. “Pick that up, wizard, and let’s go.”
He starts forward, carrying me in his arms as Stryker grabs the bag. It’s a bit humbling to realize that we actually move faster with him holding me. Guess a group is only as strong as its weakest link, right?
“This is all real,” I whisper again, tracing my memories back to that moment in the cellar with Yori and her annoying boyfriend. There’s not a single second between then and now that I can’t remember. No blackouts, no fuzzy memories. I fell asleep on the bed with Taavi, true, but then I woke up.
I woke up.
Because this isn’t a dream.
“Put me down,” I breathe out, and Taavi complies, taking my hand and dragging me through the faerie forest.
There are things in here that would happily eat me. Ensorcell me. There’s a man with a metal hand shooting people in the head while he searches for me with the coldest gray eyes I’ve ever seen.
“I’m afraid,” I whisper to Taavi, realizing for the first time that I’ve been courting death from moment one. The kelpie. The scarecrows. Isaac.
I’m an idiot. A stubborn motherfucking idiot.
“You should be,” Taavi says, panting. But not so much from the exercise. He’s afraid, too. Pretty sure Stryker is as well. “But don’t let it cripple you. It’s not a lack of fear that defines bravery, Oz.”
This is real. I repeat that to myself over and over again, for hours on end. I’m pretty sure we’re moving in a zigzag, keeping the Yellow Brick Road on our left, making progress toward Emerald City. But I can’t be sure. If Taavi doesn’t know where we are, Stryker and I are both fucked.
