Storymakers: Wanted Part 15

"As you wish," the genie said and bowed. His smile was wider than ever.

Suddenly, my legs felt as if they were being shredded.

I screamed, collapsing to the floor as the genie yanked the boots Dorthea made off by their roots. Blood poured from the holes in my calves. With a snap of the blasted blue bastage's fingers, I was wearing Crow's pink slippers with their curled-up toes.

"Your wish has been fulfilled."

"In what possible way?" I moaned. I tried to stand, but my injured legs couldn't support my weight.

"Perhaps you should have wished for a brain. Then you would have known soul has two spellings." Morte's voice stretched out, as did my shadow, now that I was wearing Crow's soles.

Be careful what you wish for, especially when the genie is holding a grudge.

"When in doubt, remember black is slimming and looks good on everyone."

-Fairy Bradshaw, Hex in the City.

25.

Death Wish.

I scooted backward until I hit the wall. I held my arms out and tried to call the Emerald flames to my palms out of instinct. A bare flicker licked across the surface.

"Fascinating," Crow said, examining me with a tilt of her head and a manic gleam in her eyes. "I had hoped to draw out the Girl of Emerald. But I suppose there are certainly a few experiments I won't mind trying on you until she finally shows herself."

She reached behind her for a bottle of liquid. I yelled, "Bow," at Kato. He hooked my dad's crossbow with his foot and lobbed it for me to s.n.a.t.c.h. Once in my hand, I fired off the closest thing I could find: the broken root shards from the boots. My aim wasn't even close to right, but the magic of the crossbow corrected it for me.

The vial exploded in Crow's gloved hand. The fabric started smoking and unraveling, until the fabric disappeared and the straw began falling out.

Crow shrieked. "The potion is not supposed to do that. My work! It's that evil girl's magic again, isn't it?" The sounds and curses Crow let out after that weren't really intelligible. She reached for bottles and started hurling them.

The other villains ran for cover, some more successfully than others. A man got hit with something yellow and turned into a lion with a scar. The hungry troll apparently thought lion was close enough to goat.

I shot makeshift bolts one after another. Kato tried to make his way to me to help, but he had to duck the shattering vials too.

"To your left."

I looked instinctually, trusting Kato. Except it wasn't Kato's voice.

My shadow was cast against the wall, and it waved its arm, even while mine stayed still. "Welcome back."

Sharp pain pierced my spine, and I felt the rough scratch of straw against my neck. "Say h.e.l.lo to Grizelda for me." With a twist of whatever she was holding, Crow jettisoned my soul back to the underworld.

"Little hero, so nice to see you in the shade again." Morte made a motion, and before I could orient myself, copy riders scurried and swarmed me, restraining my arms and legs. "This way, if you please."

He strode out his office door into the Land of Nome Ore.

"Like I have a choice."

He looked over his shoulder and grinned with his twisted, cracked lips. "No. And you never really did."

Four copy riders carried me like a trussed-up baby deer and followed their master. The piles of Forgotten howled, but the sound wasn't as loud as I remembered it. The piles were smaller too.

In a flash, I remembered Tuck. Will. Where had they all gone?

"Rebirth," Morte answered my unspoken question simply.

"What, like they were rewritten?" I'd come back to life, so maybe Morte was sending them all back to their stories.

"Not exactly." He pointed to the fire and the forge. The ink boiled and threatened to spill over-much higher than last time.

The souls of the Forgotten...

"Oh, shh," Morte chided as I choked back a sob. "If you're quiet, you can still hear them scream." His white eyes glimmered in delight. He motioned for the copy riders to bring me to the ink trough.

I am a child of the...

"You are not a child of anything, little hero. You are nothing but an empty transport." He took his scythe quill and sucked up some of the boiling ink. "It's taken a tick longer than I'd like to make this unholy grail. But, when one has eternity, it's rather important to ensure it all gets done right. While you aren't the precise vessel I had hoped for, your untethered soul means I don't need permission to claim your undead body."

"Oh, seriously? Let me guess. You want to take over the world too?"

Morte shrugged and pushed the quill against my shin. "Not really. I'm ready to retire and relocate. Ruling is simply an added bonus. Now, hold still. This will hurt a lot."

The roots ripping out of my legs was nothing compared to Morte filling my wounds with the boiling soul ink. And he was right-I could hear them. Will. Tuck. The butcher, baker, and candlestick maker. Griz-not in the ink but by my ear.

Sssad really. You chossse the wrong ssside. Where'ssss your palss now? Even Goodfellow sssold you out. You have no one.

I didn't have the strength to snark back. But Griz was wrong. I did have someone.

"Quite bothersome, you know," the genie said, hovering in the sky. He wasn't blue anymore, but olive against the Land of Nome Ore's monochromatic black and white. He wasn't chubby either, but skinny, with a salt-and-pepper mustache. He wore blue pants the princess's Fairy Vogues called "jeans."

Morte scowled. "What are you doing here?"

"As the beast king wishes." The jean-ie folded his arms and bowed.

The ink in my legs bubbled and spit, spilling out. Where it landed, green leaves sprouted, weaving and twisting together to grow ankle boots. The wire and parchment the copy riders held me with charred and melted together, glowing gold and adding some flourishes to the leafy footwear.

The copy riders dropped me, skittering away from the bright shine.

"Wear what you like," Morte scoffed. "You are still here. So clearly those imitation shoes lack the power of your original footwear."

The sky filled with green fire. "I am the great and powerful Storymaker of Oz," a voice boomed.

"In training!" the jean-ie interrupted.

"You ruined my entrance, Oz." The ominous voice shifted to sound like Dorthea's. "And you, King Stalker. How dare you call those shoes imitations? They're not knockoffs. They're fabulous. My finest work yet."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Even unlimited power didn't change Dorthea's flair for fashion and overdramatics.

"Those boot are yours if you want them, Rexi. I'm just warning you: they're expensive."

I knew she wasn't talking about a golden goosesize charge on a Story Express card. This price tag couldn't be paid in magic beans. The moment the other boots had been yanked off, Morte had returned, but Dorthea's presence had retreated. I'd felt more myself barefoot and shooting those bolts than I had since the Sherwood Forest. She was giving me a choice. Wear the boots and live, but I'd be more tied to her than ever. Or make my own path and take on Morte alone.

Wasn't much of a choice, really. But I appreciated the attempt. Grabbing the boots, I gave them a once-over. "Did you really have to make the heels so ridiculously high?"

"Picky, picky. Just put them on and click 'em already," Dorthea snapped.

Morte howled his disagreement, clawing at me. I slipped them on and smacked them together. Morte recoiled, protecting his eyes from the golden light the boots gave off.

The escape from the underworld usually cost a memory. This time was different. I was given one of Dorthea's to relive.

I stared into a mirror held by Verte. My reflection glared with green-eyed shine, my hair crackling, sparking, hissing at its tips.

"What are you doing, Dot?" Verte asked.

"Sending a message."

"I could get a fair-e-mail," Verte offered.

"This is faster," I said to Verte. "And some sentiments can't be conveyed by a letter." Then I stared back into the mirror. "I gave you a choice. I gave you an out. You chose, and now I see you too. Remember that. Take care of what is mine, but don't ever forget he is mine. Not yours." I snapped my fingers, and the mirror cracked.

The sound of the cracking mirror matched the sounds of cracking gla.s.s in the lab as I came back to myself.

"Are you okay?" Kato hauled me off the ground.

Remembering the words of the green-eyed monster, I wiggled out of his grip as quickly as I could. Message received. "Yeah, no place like home." I rolled my eyes.

The only ones who remained in the room were Kato, me, and the genie. The real one. And the lab was trashed. Broken gla.s.s was everywhere, and a pink pile of crushed ice and straw, which I could only a.s.sume was what was left of Crow, was scattered across the floor. I'd forgotten Kato had frost powers.

"What happened?" I asked.

The genie answered, "He made the perfect wish. An unselfish one. He wanted to know how to save you."

I saw Kato's hand before he shoved it behind his back. He'd lost another fingernail. "And to get to Dorthea, you needed to use your own power."

"I see it worked though." Kato nodded to my new boots and sighed. "She has her own way of doing things."

"Indeed she does. She's growing more powerful too, I see." Merlin stood in the doorway, beaming.

"He knows..."

"Yeah," Kato confirmed. "Somehow he knows everything. He was the one who found us in the clearing in the first place." He turned his back to Merlin and mouthed, I don't trust him.

Duh, I mouthed back.

Kato handed me a loop of gold.

"What's this?" I asked.

"What's left of your bow."

I stared at it horrified. "Where's the rest?"

He looked back down at my shoes, which had golden-arrow heels and gold-bow b.u.t.tons. "Equivalent exchange," he said, shrugging.

"I'm going to kill her," I muttered.

"You must survive first." Merlin motioned in some orderlies. "Gwenevere demands you join her now."

The men in white coats grabbed our arms and pulled us out of the lab.

"Hey, I think we know the way by now. You can let go." They ignored me and kept marching. On the way down the hall, I saw a blur of black slip into the lab behind us. "Wait. There's-"

"Quiet," Merlin said, tapping a wand to my lips. "Touch of crazy glue. Standard use at the inst.i.tution."

My mouth struggled and stretched, but it was sealed tight.

Merlin brought us to the model castle, through the door, and past the yowling kitties.

The headmistress waited in the purple room. She was looking out the window, with her back to us. "Leave them," she said in a sharp staccato.

"It might be in everyone's-particularly my-best interest if I stayed," Merlin answered, taking a post near the entry.

Gwen flicked her arm out, and the whip in her hand cracked and one of the crystal pieces shattered.

"Or I could just check on the rest of the patients," Merlin said.

"Good choice."

He scurried out the door. The second the door closed behind him, Gwen let out a sigh and plopped in the chair.

"Thought he was never gonna go."

I smiled as wide as my glued lips would let me, very happy to see Hydra's crinkly face and not Gwen's smooth one. "Don' know how long I gots so best be quick."

Kato started babbling about what'd happened, but Hydra cut him off.

"Done is done. I'm not the only one who's short on time." She looked meaningfully at me. Kato looked at me too, confusion on his face. I shrugged since I couldn't say anything. "We need that steel toothpick, and we need it now." She rummaged around on her desk. "Pen. Where is that blasted pen?"

I pulled the one I'd borrowed from my coat pocket.

She took it and grabbed a piece of paper. "I'm gonna draw you a map of where it might oughta be. It's closer than a huff to a puff. I can feel it, but I've searched the whole danged desk and Merlin's workshop." She shook the pen and banged it on the paper. "This pen is still busted." She shoved it roughly back in my hand.

"Maybe somebody's already found Excalibur," Kato said.