"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"He saved your life," the cloaked figure said, and lowered her hood. I flung my hands up and took a step backward. Her perfect face, her heart-shaped mouth, her strawberry-blond curls-Nox hadn't saved me, he'd betrayed me. Because the woman in front of me was Glinda.

Without realizing it, I'd backed up to Gert, who held me firmly in her fleshy arms. "It's all right, Jellia," she said, her soft tone doing nothing to slow my pounding heart. "It's not her. I'd like you to meet Glamora-Glinda's twin sister."

I blinked and stared at the woman seated at the table. What Gert was saying made a kind of sense. This woman had Glinda's face, but where Glinda's eyes were like cold, hard chips of ice, hers were kindly. The set of her mouth was friendly, not cruel.

"Have a seat, Jellia," Gert said, steering me to a chair. "We have much to discuss. And I imagine you're hungry." With that, she sat down next to me and snapped her fingers, her eyes twinkling. I was used to magic, but I was still taken aback by the feast that appeared on the table almost instantaneously-big platters piled high with fruit and cheese, fragrant loaves of steaming bread accompanied by creamy b.u.t.ter and honey, a huge tureen of some kind of soup that smelled like heaven. Gert handed me a plate and a gleaming silver fork that she plucked out of the air, and I helped myself.

If this was going to be my last meal, I might as well make it a good one. Nox, Glamora, and Gert filled their plates, too-but the fourth person sat at the far end of the table, glaring at the food as if she expected it to bite her. I eyeballed her surrept.i.tiously as I ate.

She looked more like a troll than a witch. Like Gert, she was short and squat, but where Gert came across as nurturing, there was nothing generous about this woman. Her nose was the most extraordinary feature in her wrinkled face: huge and bulbous, with a wart at its very tip. She was dressed in purple rags that hung haphazardly from her stout body and a battered, pointed black hat rested on her greasy, stringy black hair at an alarming angle. "Why don't you paint a picture, it'll last longer," she growled at me. Embarra.s.sed at being caught staring, I quickly looked away, mumbling an apology. Next to me, Gert chuckled.

"Don't you mind our Mombi," she said. "She has a terrible att.i.tude problem."

"Remind me of my att.i.tude problem the next time I save your skin," Mombi snapped. "Are you done stuffing your faces? We don't have all day. It's time to get down to business."

For the first time, it occurred to me to wonder what Glinda would think about my disappearance. How long had I been in the cave? What would happen when-if-I returned to her palace? And how had I gotten here in the first place?

"One at a time, dear," Gert said, and I realized that she was answering me even though I hadn't spoken aloud. "Bad habit," she added, reading my thoughts again. "But it saves time. I won't look in on anything that's none of my business, don't worry."

"Fine," I said, trying not to show her how unnerved I was by her magic mind reading. "How did I get here?"

"I can answer that," Nox said. "I followed you when Glinda summoned you. I knew if she'd brought the Scarecrow to the palace, she was up to something really bad. We"-he indicated the others seated at the table-"didn't realize she'd move again so quickly. I could protect you inside the palace, but by the time I got to you, it was almost too late. She and the Scarecrow had left you for dead. I thought there was still a chance we could save you, so I brought you here." I thought of the Scarecrow's machine and shivered, covering my eyes with my hands. I felt Gert put an arm around my shoulders.

"I'm sorry we couldn't prevent you from experiencing so much pain," she said. "We had no idea she would try again so soon after she brought you to the palace. Glinda and Dorothy have been looking for a way to tap into Oz's magic since Dorothy took over the Emerald City. Glinda's machine will be slowed down now by the fact that she'll have to use Munchkin labor. But that won't stop her for long. Oz is in danger, and we're the only people who can keep the country safe."

"Who's we'?" I asked. Mombi drew herself up to her full height.

"The Revolutionary Order of the Wicked," she said proudly. "The only thing standing between Oz and its destruction." If the only thing standing between Oz and its destruction was this ragtag bunch, I thought, then Oz was in even bigger trouble than I'd thought-but I kept my mouth shut. Gert was probably reading my mind anyway. "We're witches, too," Mombi continued. "But for years, we've kept to ourselves, letting our more attention-hungry sisters steal the spotlight. When Glinda brought Dorothy back to Oz, we knew it was time to come together to find a way to stop her."

"You said you knew about me already," I said to Nox. "Back at Glinda's palace. What does that mean? Does it have something to do with your-Order?"

"We have eyes everywhere, including in the Emerald City," he said. "We've known about you for a long time. You're part fairy, Jellia. It's why Glinda thought she could use you to tap into Oz's magic."

"But how could I be part fairy?" I asked.

"It's not common," Gert countered, "but it's certainly possible. Why do you think your magic is so powerful? You've always been different, and you know that."

I struggled to process what Gert was saying. I did have stronger magic than most-I knew that. But how could this be? How had I never known?

"Did Ozma know?" I said finally.

"I'm sure she did," Nox said. "Anyone with enough magic can recognize your power, Jellia."

"Why didn't she ever tell me?"

"Ozma has always had her own reasons for doing what she does," Glamora said. "The fairies aren't like the other citizens of Oz. They literally are Oz; their magic is Oz's magic. If she didn't tell you, it was because she felt it was for the good of Oz. But everything is different now. You have to learn the extent of your powers if you want to help send Dorothy back to the Other Place and heal Ozma."

"You're not any better than Glinda," I said, hurt surging up in my chest. "You only helped me out because you think I can do something for you."

"Not because you can do something for us," Mombi said curtly. "Because you can do something for Oz."

"I know this is difficult, dear," Gert said, her gentle voice countering Mombi's gruffness. "But these are desperate times. We've protected you because you're special, it's true. But you have the power to help us heal Oz-to bring Ozma back and restore the rightful order. You can't choose who you are. But you can choose what you'll become."

"But I don't even know how to use my magic," I said. "I never even knew what I was. How can I help you?"

"Nox is our eyes and ears in Glinda's palace," Gert replied. "And you can do that work for us in the Emerald City. No one is as close to Dorothy as you are."

"And Glinda hasn't told her about your magic," Glamora added. "As far as she knows, you're just as ordinary as anyone else in Oz-if anyone in Oz can be said to be truly ordinary."

"If Glinda recognized me as part fairy, why hasn't Dorothy? She has magic, too," I pointed out.

"Dorothy doesn't have magic of her own," Gert said. "All her power comes from those infernal shoes of Glinda's. Dorothy is learning how to use that power for her own ends, but for now Glinda can still control her."

I sat for a moment, digesting what they'd told me. "You're asking me to risk my life when I don't even know what you're trying to do," I said finally.

"That part is simple," Mombi said. "The witch is going to burn." Everyone else at the table fell silent. Mombi slapped her hands on the table and heaved herself to her feet, trundling around the table to where I sat. "Listen, little girl," she said, grabbing my chin and forcing me to meet her eyes. "You don't think much of us now, and I can't blame you. I know more about your life than you think. I know what you've seen and I know how much Dorothy and Glinda have hurt you. Not just you-your friends. I know you remember what it was like to live in a free Oz. We might not look like much, but we can do it. We can make Oz free again."

Her tone was gruff, but underneath her harsh words there was something almost sympathetic.

As if she could sense me softening, Mombi continued. "We're asking you to risk your life, sure. You know that. You're not stupid. But your life is already at risk, every day you work for Dorothy. Glinda's already figured out she can't use you in her machine. You're no more use to her. Do you really want to be Dorothy's head maid for the rest of your life? This is your chance, Jellia. It's your chance at something better. We're not going to pretend it's not risky. But Oz deserves better-and you have the power to help."

Her grip on my jaw was firm, but when I met her eyes again they were full of compa.s.sion. "I know," she said, so quietly I didn't think the others at the table could hear her. "I know how much you want the real Ozma back. In that, if nothing else, we're together."

I jerked away from her grip, and she let me. She took a few steps backward, put her hands on her broad hips, and stared at me. They were all watching me now.

"I need some time," I said.

"We can give you a few minutes, but that's all," Gert said. "We can bewitch the Munchkins who were tasked with taking you back to Dorothy so that they won't realize you were gone, but the longer you're here, the harder it will be."

"Fine," I said. Without another word, Gert led me back to the cavern with the healing pool and left me there.

FIFTEEN.

I sat staring into the pool as the soft slap of Gert's bare feet on stone faded away. A pale pink mist had formed over the water, which was now an opaque, rich blue and smelled of honeysuckle. I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when something in the air changed and I realized Nox was sitting beside me. He'd come up behind me and sat down so silently I hadn't even noticed.

"I'm sorry," he said in a low voice, looking at the water.

"Why did you join them?"

He was silent for a long time. "It might not seem like it," he said at last, "but you've been protected in the Emerald City from the truth of how evil Dorothy is. Glinda has been trying to tap into Oz's magic for a long time, and Dorothy is helping her. It's not just that machine-Glinda's been digging mines deep under Oz, looking for ways to pull magic out of the earth. The Tin Woodman's soldiers have been kidnapping people and using them as slave labor."

I thought of the rumors that had swirled around Dorothy's palace ever since Ozma had changed. The stories of Munchkins going hungry, of the winged monkeys turning evil. They hadn't just been stories, then. "That still doesn't explain how you got here," I said.

"The Tin Woodman's soldiers burned my hometown to the ground when I was just a boy," he said quietly, not looking at me. "They tried to take all of the adults, but everyone fought back. No one was left alive-except me. Mombi rescued me and brought me here. She raised me to be a fighter. I owe the Order my life." He looked up at me. "But it's more than that. More than just grat.i.tude. I believe in the possibility of a better Oz, Jellia. I have to. I won't let Glinda and Dorothy keep destroying our country. And if I can avenge my parents' deaths-well, so much the better."

I searched for the right words. "I'm sorry," I said simply, though it hardly seemed like enough. "I didn't realize."

He shrugged. "You didn't know. But now you have to decide, Jellia. Will you help us?"

"I've already made up my mind," I said, and his face fell. But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, Gert materialized next to me in a little puff of purple smoke.

"I knew we could count on you, Jellia," she said, her voice full of pride. She wrapped me up in a big, soft hug, and after a moment I returned the gesture. I could see Nox's confused expression over her shoulder.

"You're not the only one who wants to see the real Oz restored," I said to him, and his face was transformed by a real, full smile.

Gert released me from her embrace and I found that I missed her comforting warmth as soon as she did. I hadn't had much mothering in my life. "Down to business," she said briskly. "I'm sorry to be curt, my dear, but we haven't much time. We must return you to the meadow where Glinda left you, and Nox has to get back to Glinda's before she notices his absence." She paused, smiling at me. "Welcome to the future of Oz, Jellia. We're proud to count you among us." When she put it like that, I couldn't help but be a little proud of myself, too.

After that, there wasn't much else to do. Mombi, Gert, and Glamora a.s.sembled in the pool cavern to see me off. Glamora waved her hands, and my soft white robe was replaced with the tattered, b.l.o.o.d.y dress I'd been wearing when Nox brought me to the cavern. Glamora waved her hands again, and bruises sprang up painlessly across my skin. I poked one cautiously; it didn't hurt at all, but it sure looked convincingly gory. "Just a glamour," she said. "They'll fade eventually, like real bruises." I looked down at my ruined dress. I was really going to do this. I was really going to spy on Dorothy-and put my life on the line for the future of Oz. What was I thinking? Why had I agreed to this?

"Because you know Oz needs you, dear," Gert said. I faced her and opened my mouth, ready to tell her I knew no such thing. But the words didn't come. Instead, I thought of the tiny girl who washed dishes all day long in Glinda's kitchen. I thought of Nox's murdered parents. I thought of poor Astrid-how was she faring, back in the Emerald City without me to look after her? I thought of Glinda's Munchkin cooks, so afraid of Glinda's power they were willing to spy on the people who they should have been united with. I thought of Ozma, and how things used to be. I cared about them, all of them. I cared about their chance for a better life. For freedom. I cared because they deserved it. I took a deep breath and adjusted my dress so that it looked even more askew.

"Let's get this over with," I said. Gert smiled.

"You're very brave, dear," she said. "Very, very brave."

Hopefully, I wasn't about to be very, very dead.

Gert took my hand and put it in Nox's. His grip was cool and rea.s.suring. Gert took his free hand and Mombi took mine. The last thing I saw before the cavern disappeared was Glamora's face, a haunting mirror image of Glinda's, her big blue eyes looking deep into mine.

We rematerialized in the meadow where Glinda had left me, next to the Scarecrow's machine. It was night, just before dawn; overhead, the constellations of Oz gleamed like gems in the lightening sky. A handful of astounded Munchkins huddled around the machine, gaping at our unexpected arrival. Gert marched over to them briskly; I could see the air shimmering with magic around her upraised hands.

"Listen, Jellia," Nox said, and stopped, searching for the right words. "Good luck," he said finally. "Be careful."

"You too," I said. He nodded again and then, to my surprise, he gave me a brief, fierce hug. Without another word, he turned his back on us and loped off into the darkness.

Gert walked back toward us with the Munchkins trailing after her, blinking and dazed. "It's time," she said. "Be strong, Jellia. We have faith in you. We chose you because we knew you could do what we asked of you. Not many people are that brave."

"Or that stupid," I said.

Mombi grinned and patted me on the back. "Don't get killed, kiddo."

Gert turned to the Munchkins. "You remember nothing," she said gently, and they nodded as one with their mouths open. She smiled at me. "Good-bye, dear. And good luck." The witches' outlines wavered, and I watched as they shimmered and then disappeared with a pop, like a bubble bursting. That was it: I was on my own.

The Munchkins were looking around them as though they'd just woken up from a dream. One of them caught sight of me and stood up a little straighter. "You're alive," he said slowly. "We're to take you back to Dorothy, if you're alive. To the Emerald City."

I took a deep breath. "What are we waiting for then?" I said. "It's time to go home."

EXCERPT FROM DOROTHY MUST DIE.

Follow Amy Gumm's mission to take down Dorothy in . . .

ONE.

I first discovered I was trash three days before my ninth birthday-one year after my father lost his job and moved to Secaucus to live with a woman named Crystal and four years before my mother had the car accident, started taking pills, and began exclusively wearing bedroom slippers instead of normal shoes.

I was informed of my trashiness on the playground by Madison Pendleton, a girl in a pink Target sweat suit who thought she was all that because her house had one and a half bathrooms.

"Salvation Amy's trailer trash," she told the other girls on the monkey bars while I was dangling upside down by my knees and minding my own business, my pigtails sc.r.a.ping the sand. "That means she doesn't have any money and all her clothes are dirty. You shouldn't go to her birthday party or you'll be dirty, too."

When my birthday party rolled around that weekend, it turned out everyone had listened to Madison. My mom and I were sitting at the picnic table in the Dusty Acres Mobile Community Recreation Area wearing our sad little party hats, our sheet cake gathering dust. It was just the two of us, same as always. After an hour of hoping someone would finally show up, Mom sighed, poured me another big cup of Sprite, and gave me a hug.

She told me that, whatever anyone at school said, a trailer was where I lived, not who I was. She told me that it was the best home in the world because it could go anywhere.

Even as a little kid, I was smart enough to point out that our house was on blocks, not wheels. Its mobility was severely oversold. Mom didn't have much of a comeback for that.

It took her until around Christmas of that year when we were watching The Wizard of Oz on the big flat-screen television-the only physical thing that was a leftover from our old life with Dad-to come up with a better answer for me. "See?" she said, pointing at the screen. "You don't need wheels on your house to get somewhere better. All you need is something to give you that extra push."

I don't think she believed it even then, but at least in those days she still cared enough to lie. And even though I never believed in a place like Oz, I did believe in her.

That was a long time ago. A lot had changed since then. My mom was hardly the same person at all anymore. Then again, neither was I.

I didn't bother trying to make Madison like me anymore, and I wasn't going to cry over cake. I wasn't going to cry, period. These days, my mom was too lost in her own little world to bother cheering me up. I was on my own, and crying wasn't worth the effort.

Tears or no tears, though, Madison Pendleton still found ways of making my life miserable. The day of the tornado-although I didn't know the tornado was coming yet-she was slouching against her locker after fifth period, rubbing her enormous pregnant belly and whispering with her best friend, Amber Boudreaux.

I'd figured out a long time ago that it was best to just ignore her when I could, but Madison was the type of person it was pretty impossible to ignore even under normal circ.u.mstances. Now that she was eight and a half months pregnant it was really impossible.

Today, Madison was wearing a tiny T-shirt that barely covered her midriff. It read Who's Your Mommy across her b.o.o.bs in pink cursive glitter. I did my best not to stare as I slunk by her on my way to Spanish, but somehow I felt my eyes gliding upward, past her belly to her chest and then to her face. Sometimes you just can't help it.

She was already staring at me. Our gazes met for a tiny instant. I froze.

Madison glared. "What are you looking at, Trailer Trash?"