“I tried to use the shoes,” I gasped. “But they’re still connected to Dorothy. She knows where we are now. She’s on her way.”
“We have to warn the Quadrant,” Nox said urgently. I looked up. Glinda and Glamora were still going at it. Glinda’s hair had come loose from its bun and surrounded her head in a wild halo. Her armor was rent in a dozen places, and her face and hands were smeared with blood. But Glamora wasn’t looking much better. Her amethyst form was chipped and cracked, and though both of them were still flying at each other, she held one arm close to her chest as though she couldn’t move it. I could see flashes of power as Mombi and Gert fought on the ground, but like Nox and me, they were surrounded. The ground was littered with the broken and bloody bodies of Glinda’s soldiers and the air smelled like blood and the electric haze of spent magic. I couldn’t see Melindra or Annabel or any of the other Wicked. None of us could hold out for much longer. If we didn’t do something soon, all of us were going to go down fighting for Oz right here.
Suddenly, a terrifying howl split the air. Pete’s face went white. I turned to see what he was looking at. “Oh no,” I said. Beside me, Nox drew his breath in sharply.
Dorothy had found us.
She wasn’t alone.
TWENTY-TWO
Dorothy looked even worse than she had when I’d seen her in Kansas, as though she couldn’t suck magic out of the ground fast enough to keep herself going. Her dress was still in tatters, and she’d painted on her maniacal smile with a garish red lipstick that looked like a bloody slash across her face. Her shoes blazed with red light. But she wasn’t the scariest thing we faced anymore—not by a long shot. That honor fell to her steed: a three-headed monster the size of a truck. It was covered in sharp-edged, reptilian scales. Behind it swung a long tail crowned in a bristle of spikes. Its legs ended in paws with huge, serrated claws. The teeth in each of its three mouths were as long as my forearm. It threw back first one head, then another, and then a third, and roared. And then I spotted a red velveteen ribbon around each of its thick, muscular necks.
“Oh my god,” I gasped. “That’s Toto.” That is, something that had once been Toto. But this Toto was like the ’roid-rage version of Dorothy’s little dog, twisted and terrifying.
At Dorothy’s back was yet another army—this one made up of the Tin Man’s gruesome hybrid creations. Creatures lurched and hopped, brandishing arms and legs that ended in spikes and saws and pincers. Some rolled along on bicycle wheels. Others bounded on all fours, but their bodies were replaced by metal torsos. Most of them looked like they’d been pieced together in a hurry. Bloody wounds seeped fluid where jagged metal edges met living flesh, and some of them limped or dragged themselves along, their blank faces showing no sign that they were in pain but the trail of blood they left behind them suggesting otherwise.
Dorothy, seated astride Toto’s broad back, laughed out loud. “Did you miss me?” she called. “It’s so good to see you again, Amy. All my old friends in one place.” Her eyes flicked upward to Glinda and Glamora, who’d paused their battle and hung there watching her.
“Dorothy,” Glinda called. I thought I heard a hint of panic in her voice. She hadn’t expected Dorothy to find us so quickly. She was hoping she could take us out first, I realized. Glinda wasn’t strong enough to face the Wicked and Dorothy at the same time.
“I’m so disappointed to see your army here,” Dorothy said. “It’s like you’re going behind my back, Glinda, and you know I just hate secrets, unless they belong to me.”
“Dorothy, you misunderstand—” Glinda began, but before the words were out of her mouth Dorothy pointed her fingers and shot a fireball directly at the hovering witch. Glinda spun and dodged, her wand at the ready.
“No, I don’t think I do,” Dorothy said coldly. “I’m the Queen of Oz, Glinda, have you forgotten? Any army that acts without my command is acting against me. And you know what I do to traitors.”
Toto snarled, rearing on his scale-plated hind legs as his huge claws dug into the earth. “Forward!” Dorothy screamed, and her army surged ahead to meet Glinda’s. Dorothy’s awful zombie-like soldiers cut and hacked mechanically at the mass of identical girls. They might look bedraggled, but they were terrifying. Dead-eyed and robotic, they kept swinging even as Glinda’s soldiers cut them into pieces. I watched in horror as a girl beheaded one of Dorothy’s minions. The creature’s body advanced relentlessly, chopping away with paws that ended in a bristle of jagged, rusty knives. I turned my head away, not wanting to see the rest.