Eagerly, I looked over his shoulder at the contents of the closet: a teetering stack of dusty cardboard boxes, piles of faded fabric, and, weirdly enough, a rusty old hoe. That was it. The entire historical archive of Flat Hill, Kansas.
“I guess this place was always a dump,” I said. Dustin pulled the top box off the stack, grunting with surprise at how heavy it was. I lifted the lid, revealing a stack of ancient yearbooks. The top one was dated 1967.
“Far out,” Dustin said, leafing through it. “Check out this dude’s hair.” He pointed to a blissed-out-looking hippie guy with shampoo-commercial-worthy blond waves past his shoulders.
“Totally not fair,” I said. I shoved the box aside and went for the next one while Dustin looked at old yearbooks. More yearbooks, a box of old newspapers—none of them dating back to the time of Baum’s article—a leather-bound book whose title, Tales of the Prairie, was embossed on the front in frilly letters. Nothing. My heart sank. The piles of fabric were old-fashioned aprons and a frayed blue banner with CONGRATULATIONS CLASS OF 1934 sewn on in bright red letters.
“I guess that’s it,” Dustin said in disappointment.
“There’s one more box,” I said. “Way at the back.”
“I don’t see it.”
I reached for the box and then yanked my hands back with a yelp. It had stung me. I popped a finger into my mouth, tasting blood. “There’s something sharp back there,” I said.
“I don’t even see what you’re trying to grab.”
I reached in again, more cautiously this time, and then I felt it, like a halo around the battered old box: the unmistakable buzz of magic. A thrill ran through me. I’d been right. There was something here—and someone had tried to hide it. Someone powerful enough to use magic in Kansas. Someone who’d been able to keep the truth about Dorothy a secret for over a century. Someone who had to be from Oz.
“Give me those dust cloths,” I said. Just as Dustin handed them to me, the library door swung open, and we both froze.
“I don’t see much cleaning happening in here,” Mr. Stone growled. Dustin’s eyes were huge.
“Oh, shit,” he mouthed.
FOURTEEN
“What’s going on in here?” Mr. Stone asked peevishly, stepping into the library. We were hidden by the shelves, but if he came any farther into the room he’d see us, and there was no way we could explain what we were doing going through a stack of old boxes next to a busted closet door. Dustin jumped up and headed for the door. Instinctively, I threw the old graduation banner over myself and the pile of boxes. My arm brushed up against the last box I’d found. It didn’t sting me this time; it burned. Like the feeling of metal cold enough to freeze to your skin and peel away the outer layer. And then the awful burning faded and a strange sensation crawled across my skin, like the chill you feel when you’ve been out in the snow too long.
Everything around me dimmed until the edges of the room were lost in dense, thickening shadow. Tendrils of darkness crept across the floor toward me. A slender, silvery form stepped out of the shadows and looked down at me. It was mostly hidden by the darkness, but I could make out swirling black robes and a pale, bald skull topped with a twisted iron crown.
So, it hissed. I heard its voice inside my head rather than out loud and clapped my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to shut it out. You have found what I have hidden, little witch. My congratulations.
I struggled to say something, but the creature’s magic had glued my mouth shut. Who are you? I thought desperately.
I could feel its smile cutting into my thoughts.
You’ll find out soon enough, little witch. You are strong and clever to have uncovered so easily what I had concealed so carefully. Your witches could not see what I had put away here so many years ago. Even your Dorothy could not find what once had been hers. But you found it without magic, as if it was calling to you. You are very strong indeed—perhaps even stronger than my other little friend.
What other little friend? Did it mean Dorothy?
We will see each other again, my dear. I am beginning to think you shall be quite useful to me. But now is not the time for explanations. Give my regards to your . . . friends.
A knife-sharp flash of pain stabbed into my skull and I cried out in agony. I could see Mombi, Gert, and Glamora, darkness swirling around them, looking up in fear and alarm. Nox, out on the prairie somewhere, staring upward as if he knew I was looking down at him, opening his mouth to say something. The creature laughed and flicked its fingers, and a roiling cloud of darkness descended on the four of them, erasing their faces from my mind.
Until next time, little witch. Watch your back. Not all your friends are trustworthy. And then it stepped back into the shadows and disappeared. I felt its magic loosen its grip on me and I slumped to the floor, tears of pain leaking from my eyes.