And then he really looked at her. “Lang, Melindra isn’t dead.”
Melindra? What did she have to do with any of this? I knew Melindra and Nox had . . . history. And I knew Melindra wasn’t my biggest fan. But we’d trained together, fought together. I might not like her, but I’d trust the half-metal, half-human girl with my life.
“You’re lying,” Lang said. “No one survives the Scarecrow’s workshop. No one.”
“She did,” I said. “He’s not lying. I’ve met her.” I had no idea what was happening, but if Nox needed to convince Lang that Melindra was alive, I could at least help him do that. “She was alive when we left Oz, anyway.”
I felt a small well of pity for Lang rise up in me. She had built her life around an elaborate vengeance plot—only to learn that Melindra was alive after all.
“What did he do to her? How did she escape?”
“Melindra’s the best fighter the Order’s ever seen,” Nox said. “You know that as well as I do. She survived. She’s . . . different. But she survived.”
Of course, I thought. Lang had been part of the Order before Melindra was tortured, transformed into one of the Scarecrow’s twisted creations. But if Nox was leaving that part out, it was on purpose, so I kept my mouth shut.
To my utter surprise, Lang’s eyes filled with tears. She turned away from us, staring sightlessly at the wall. Nox reached out to touch her shoulder, but thought better of it and pulled his hand back. All her disguises had fallen away; her face was filled with raw emotion and so much pain I wanted to grab her up in a bear hug, even though I knew prickly, easily angered Lang would be more likely to take it as an assault than a gesture of comfort. Finally, she reached some kind of inner decision. She sighed and straightened her shoulders, pushing her long hair out of her face.
“I’m not going to work with you. I don’t like you, and I don’t like anything about this. But I’ll take you to one of my smuggling hideouts,” she said. “It’s warded—it will hide you for now. And then I can decide what to do next—and how to get rid of you without risking my own skin.”
I let out my breath slowly. We were that much closer to Lang helping us. But I had no idea what had just happened between her and Nox. I shot him a look, but he shrugged helplessly. And Nox was a lot of things, but he was never helpless. I bit my lip, keeping my own questions to myself. Right now, we had to stay alive long enough to defeat Dorothy and get the hell out of Ev.
“Let’s go,” Lang said. Without waiting to see what we’d do, she stalked out of the room.
We didn’t have much choice but to follow.
ELEVEN
Much to my relief, this time we weren’t traveling by Wheeler. I had seen so many creepy things in Oz that it was surprising anything could still make my skin crawl, but I would be happy if I never saw those awful creatures again as long as I lived. Instead, Lang led us underground, down a twisting series of steps and tunnels that led to a huge, torch-lit cavern.
At one end of the cave a black stream flowed into a high-ceilinged tunnel; nearer to us, it spread into a broad, shallow pool. A long dock stretched out into the water, and tied to it was a black boat carved into the shape of a dragon. Jet-black scales glimmered along its sides, and leathery black sails shaped like wings waved gently in the breeze drifting off the river.
Another many-headed beetle dressed in a captain’s uniform—complete with tiny sailor hats perched atop each of his heads—jumped to attention as we approached. Lang led us out onto the dock, and the captain helped each of us climb aboard.
Madison refused his outstretched, segmented leg with a shudder, muttering a curse under her breath as she whacked her shins on the edge of the boat. The beetle untied us from the dock—and the boat stretched its wings. Madison squeaked in surprise and even Nox looked alarmed.
“It’s alive!” I exclaimed.
“Of course she’s alive,” Lang said, looking at me in puzzlement. “How do you travel by water in the Other Place?”
I thought about explaining that Kansas was landlocked, and that we used cars, not dragons, but decided against it. Instead, I sank back into the bench carved into the boat’s hollow body.
Except it wasn’t carved, I realized—it was a smooth ridge of bone covered in leathery skin that was warm from the heat of the dragon boat’s body. Peeking over the side, I saw huge, scaly legs paddling strongly underneath us. The captain controlled the dragon boat with a set of long leather reins. I tried not to think about our boat’s long, sharp, and very deadly-looking teeth.
The river carried us through a seemingly endless series of dimly lit tunnels and underground canals. In places, we saw other traffic—mostly emaciated-looking peasants dressed in tattered rags, poling along in skiffs pieced together from bits and scraps, but also a few boats like ours ferrying people who were obviously much richer.
As we traveled, I told Nox and Lang about what Lurline had showed me. And I couldn’t be sure, but I almost sensed Lang softening as I talked. As if she was finally, finally starting to believe that we might be on her side, too.
Each time we passed another boat, Lang gestured for us to duck down. The boat spread its wings even wider as we sailed past, hiding us under its huge wings.
I was well aware of how important it was to stay hidden. Still, I couldn’t help looking around every chance I got. The scenery was eerily beautiful and totally unlike anything I’d ever seen in Oz.
Nox caught my eye and I leaned over to him.
“Are you sure it was real?” he asked.
“She’s alive. And they’re winning.”
Nox leaned into my shoulder. “I hate her sometimes. Most of the time. But I want her to be in the world so I can keep hating her until I can’t anymore. Does that make sense?”
I nodded. “I could have said the same thing about my mother for most of my life.”
“But not now?”
“She’s better. She’s trying. It doesn’t erase the years when she was so messed up. And it doesn’t mean it won’t happen again. But I don’t hate her today.”
The boat shifted suddenly, knocking me into him. Before I could right myself, Nox pulled me closer and kissed me. It wasn’t like our other kisses. It was deeper and needier. I left myself fall into it, blocking out our surroundings if just for a moment.
Lang cleared her throat and we broke apart.
“We’re getting close now. It’s time for me to change.” She turned away from us and I saw the silver choker glow brightly for an instant. Lang faced us again, and I gasped. She now wore the face—or was it the head?—of a homely old woman. Her clothes had been replaced by a nondescript coverall made of unremarkable gray-green fabric. She looked like a workman borrowing her boss’s fancy boat to run an errand.
Which was exactly the point, I realized. Lang was turning out to be a master of disguise.