Dorothy Must Die: The Witch Must Burn Part 1

Dorothy Must Die.

The Witch Must Burn.

Danielle Paige.

ONE.

Things have been pretty weird lately in Oz. I mean, if you're not from around here, things are always a little weird in Oz. There're the flying monkeys, sure, and the Road of Yellow Brick, which isn't exactly the most reliable freeway in the world (it moves around). We have magic-more about that later-and animated soldiers that used to be toys, and a city made out of emeralds, and trees that talk. We have an enchanted palace-that's where I work as a servant-and we have a Wizard with extra-special powers. We had a Wizard, anyway, until he disappeared. We have cornfields that grow pre-roasted corn on the cob and talking animals and a Cowardly Lion who's actually not so cowardly and is becoming a little bit scary. (He talks, too.) But for us, all of that is no big deal. We're used to it. The really weird thing about Oz these days?

Her name is Dorothy. And she's my boss.

Technically, Ozma is my boss. She's the rightful ruler of Oz, and when she was running the show, things were great for us here in the Emerald City. I don't know anything about where I'm from-I was left on the doorstep of the Emerald Palace as a tiny baby. Ozma and I grew up together there. I knew she'd one day be the ruler of Oz, too, but she never acted like someone who was about to be a queen. She was just my friend, and the palace servants became my family. I've never known anything else.

Then Dorothy showed up-the first time-and everything changed. She killed the Wicked Witch of the East and with the help of the Tin Woodman, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion, the Wicked Witch of the West. She saved Oz. Then she vanished back to the Other Place-the world she came from, where magic doesn't exist. Ozma took her rightful place on the throne, and things were basically perfect. Although I still didn't know anything about my real family, I'd lived in the palace for my whole life and Ozma and the servants were the only family I needed. I loved my work in the palace, as strange as that may sound-it gave me a real sense of pride to do a good job keeping everything running. n.o.body plans a banquet like I do. I can remember the names of every single dignitary of Oz-and their children, pets, favorite foods, preferred seating arrangements, wives, husbands, ex-wives, ex-husbands, and what room in the palace they most like to stay in when they visit. My detail-oriented nature is what makes me so good at my job, and it's why Ozma ultimately promoted me to be the youngest head maid in the history of Oz. I wasn't going to be a famous queen or a powerful sorceress, and I was fine with that. I was good at something that I loved, and I'd get to spend my life doing it.

And then Dorothy came back, and that's when things got weird. She was different-she wasn't the sweet, innocent girl we all adored who had saved Oz. Dorothy moved into the palace, and this time she was here to stay. And then, after a palace ball one night, suddenly Ozma wasn't herself anymore; overnight she went from our vivacious, caring, generous queen to a vacant ghost of herself wandering the halls of the palace like the world's creepiest talking doll. Sometimes she didn't even recognize us. At first, Dorothy pretended she was helping out, ruling on Ozma's behalf. She kept Ozma close by her side.

But then Dorothy dropped the pretense pretty quickly, and none of us knew how to stop her, or even if we could. Suddenly, our peaceful palace was full of soldiers. They looked like the Tin Woodman, but there was something about them that didn't feel right. The Scarecrow left his own corncob mansion out in the hills of Oz and moved into the palace, where he shut himself up in his suite of rooms and began to work on something mysterious that Dorothy referred to as his "experiments." The Scarecrow had always seemed so harmless before, just kind of dopey and pleasant despite his brain upgrade, but the maids who took him his meals came back from his rooms with stories about sinister equipment and cages covered in blankets, behind which they could hear rustling and faint, soft moans, like something crying out in pain. We'd see lights coming from his rooms at all hours, and hear cras.h.i.+ng and banging in the middle of the night. Pretty soon I had to bribe my staff with extra time off in order to get them to so much as clean the hallway outside his room. And the stories of what they saw inside sent chills up my spine.

Dorothy acted as though nothing was wrong-as though whatever was happening was totally normal. If any of us asked her about it, she'd fly off the handle in one of her infamous tantrums. So we left it alone.

I also quickly realized that Dorothy doesn't like me, but I am careful to keep myself useful. I want to figure out what's going on in the palace, and with Ozma, and I can't do that if Dorothy kicks me out. And I think even she realized that dismissing me out of hand would clue the rest of the servants in to the fact that something was really wrong. Ozma would never condone such a thing, and for all intents and purposes, Ozma is still the ruler of Oz. I make sure for the time being to keep everything the way Dorothy likes it. I make sure her rows and rows of dresses are hung neatly, organized by color, occasion, and material (and yes, of course, season). Her bacon is extra crispy, the floors are extra scrubbed. I know exactly what it takes to keep the palace running like clockwork, and Dorothy knows I know, and so for now we're in kind of a standoff. She hates me, but she can't get rid of me, and I intend to keep it that way.

She is the only one who's allowed to use magic in the palace. She says there's too much of a risk of disaster otherwise. But I think the real reason is that she doesn't want anyone to have more power than she does.

I'm not sure how much longer I can stand it here. Every once in a while, I'll get a chance to pause for a moment at a window, looking out over the glittering green towers of Oz and daydreaming about what life used to be like when Ozma was in charge and Oz was the way it should be. When Dorothy was a national hero, not a national menace. When- "Jellia!" Dorothy's voice tore through the air, a piercing shriek that made me flinch. I'd been scrubbing the palace floors since sunrise. Dorothy had been on a tear since she staggered out of bed long after the palace was up and bustling, and I'd had the bad luck to be standing next to her when she decided the floors were filthy, despite the fact that we'd cleaned them the day before. I sat up from my brush and bucket as the relentless tap-tap-tap of her heels came storming into the room, and just barely scrambled to my feet and executed a clumsy curtsy.

"What are you doing?" she snarled. "Why are you filthy?" She'd used magic that morning to dress herself-there was no mistaking the way she was stuffed into her corseted and impossibly short dress, or the glittering haze that surrounded her as she moved. Her hair was curled into tight, childish ringlets that were a strange contrast to her glossy red mouth and heavily rouged cheeks. As always, her magical red heels glowed like the fires of h.e.l.l. If you got close to those shoes, it was almost as though you could hear them talking to you in a low, seductive whisper.

"You look terrible," Dorothy said. So do you, I thought.

"You asked me to scrub the floors this morning." I kept my eyes downcast.

"I most certainly absolutely did no such thing, Jellia." She always said my name like it was the worst insult she could think of. It drove me nuts. I dared a look up at her through my lashes, trying to judge her mood. If she'd truly forgotten, I'd only make her angrier by contradicting her. If she was trying to torment me, she'd only leave me alone once she saw me squirm like a worm on a hook. She was looking out the window with a scowl, her attention already elsewhere, which meant I wasn't on her hit list for the day. Yet.

I rolled my eyes and swallowed my pride. "I must have misheard, Your Majesty," I mumbled.

"Get yourself cleaned up at once," she snapped. "I'm throwing a banquet and it has to be perfect. And I want all my dresses laid out-and the ballroom prepared-and I want all the Munchkins out of sight. Every last one of them, especially that filthy little blue one. Is that clear?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. Someone is visiting the palace?"

"Glinda is returning tomorrow," she said coolly.

Even I, practiced as I was becoming in keeping my emotions out of my expressions, couldn't hide my shock. Glinda was one of the most powerful witches in Oz-possibly the most powerful witch in Oz. Rumor had it that she was somehow responsible for Dorothy's return, although no one knew exactly what she'd done.

Then Glinda had vanished shortly after Dorothy had moved into the palace. I know I wasn't the only one who'd breathed a sigh of relief.

"Glinda is coming here?" I blurted. Dorothy narrowed her eyes, studying my face, and I cursed my big mouth. If she was back in the Emerald City now, I was pretty sure it wasn't to deck us all out in ball gowns and tiaras.

"Surely you're thrilled," she said, and I recognized the danger in her voice.

"Oh, of course." I scrambled to cover my slipup. "I'm just-it's just a surprise to have such a, um"-I was. .h.i.t with a burst of inspiration-"such an exalted guest. It will be an honor to receive her."

An expression of disgust crossed her face. "And change your dress," she said. "You look like you crawled out of a sewer." She laughed out loud at her own joke, pivoting on one glittering heel and stalking out of the room. Her ridiculously short dress switched back and forth with each stride. I sighed and scowled down at my mop bucket. Something was up, and I had the sinking feeling whatever was about to happen wasn't going to be good.

TWO.

The morning of Glinda's arrival, the palace was a hive of activity. Servants ran back and forth, putting up decorations and frantically cleaning. Delicious smells from the kitchen filled the halls. I inspected every maid I pa.s.sed, making sure everyone's uniform was spotless and perfectly fitted. When I heard the clatter of carriages from the courtyard that signaled Glinda's arrival, my heart skipped a beat. If everything wasn't perfect, I'd be the one to pay for it.

Dorothy and Glinda shut themselves up in Dorothy's chambers as soon as Glinda entered the palace. I spent the rest of the afternoon making sure that everything in the banquet hall was ready for Glinda's big welcoming dinner. The long table was heaped with white flowers that released a gentle aroma of jasmine into the air. The crystal chandeliers glittered. The tablecloth was a snowy, spotless white, richly embroidered with silver thread. Every place was set just so. Even Dorothy, I thought, couldn't find fault with anything here.

But that night, as we served dinner to Dorothy, Glinda, and her entourage, everything in the palace felt off. The air snapped with tension, and all the servants were nervous. I looked around and noticed Ozma wasn't present. Dorothy sulked at her end of the table, her habitual fake smile replaced with a sullen scowl. Glinda sat next to her, and the two of them talked quietly on their own. I moved back and forth between the kitchen and the banquet hall, trying to catch snippets of their secretive conversation.

"How are the Scarecrow's experiments coming, Dorothy? Are we on schedule to begin mining?"

"He's doing his best," Dorothy mumbled. "But we're all worried about you-know-who. If you had better control over your sister-"

"My sister is unimportant," Glinda snapped, cutting her off sharply.

"But he's a danger to all of us," Dorothy said petulantly. "Who knows why he's returned? Or what his plan is?"

"My spies tell me that he hasn't returned; he never left Oz at all. He may be throwing his lot in with the Wicked . . ." Glinda's voice was cool and calculating. I couldn't quite catch the end of her sentence, and it wouldn't do to show I was listening. The wicked what? I wondered. "And we don't yet know for a fact that he means to depose you," Glinda said, her voice low. "His power-"

She cut herself off, looking at me. I lowered my eyes. "Go get more wine, won't you, Jellia?" she said sweetly. "And you mustn't pay attention to Dorothy and me. We're just indulging in silly gossip!" She t.i.ttered gaily; it was like watching an eagle try to sound like a mouse.

"Yes, Your Eminence," I said, curtsying quickly and turning to obey her request. The Wizard, I thought, my mind spinning as I went back to the kitchen. They were talking about the Wizard-they had to be. And Glinda was helping Dorothy-which meant that she must know about Dorothy's slow takeover of the palace. Did Glinda know what was wrong with Ozma? Could the Wizard really have returned to Oz? And if he had, what did that mean for us? Had he returned to overthrow Ozma and take back the throne? Or did he realize that Dorothy was out of control? Was he trying to regain control of Oz-or protect it? And what exactly was the Scarecrow working on?

Astrid, one of the youngest servants, tripped on her way from the kitchen to the dining hall, bringing my thoughts back to the moment. I was right behind her and watched in dismay as she dropped the platter of roast beef she was carrying and burst into tears. "I'm-I'm-I'm sorry," she sobbed, falling to her knees and trying to pick up the shattered pieces; she only succeeded in soaking her dress in the messy remains of the roast. I looked around quickly. Thankfully, we were alone in the corridor and no one had seen her blunder.

"It's all right," I said gently, hauling her to her feet. "I'll make sure a Munchkin cleans this mess up." I eyed her dress. Magic in the castle was strictly forbidden among the help, but I'd risked it before when trouble brewed. Besides, Dorothy was already tipsy so I didn't think she'd notice, and being shorthanded at the banquet could end in disaster.

"Here," I said, tugging at her dress and concentrating. I could feel the warm buzz in my hands, and Astrid gasped as the stains disappeared.

"Th-thank you, Jellia," she whispered. She seemed shocked-almost as if she'd never seen a staff member do magic before. I'd always a.s.sumed everyone else here used it when they were in a fix.

"You can't go back into the hall with that face. Smile." I dabbed the remaining tears out of her eyes with the corner of my ap.r.o.n and looked at her sternly as her mouth quivered. "I mean really smile, Astrid. Go back to the kitchen and don't carry anything to Dorothy until you look like you mean it." It would be handy, I thought, if there were some spell that could keep all of us permanently smiling; Dorothy was only too happy to dole out punishment at random to anyone who didn't look like they were having the absolute best time of their lives in her company. That was a hard level of happiness to fake.

"Yes, Jellia," she whispered, and fled.

But that wasn't the end of her mishaps for the evening. A few minutes later, as I topped off Dorothy's winegla.s.s yet again, a rigid grin fixed across my own features, Astrid came back into the banquet hall with a fresh platter of roast beef. Instead of a smile, her face bore an expression of terror. I caught her eye and tried to signal her to turn around, but it was too late. Dorothy could spot suffering from across a room like a cat on the prowl for errant mice. "Annabel," she crooned, her voice dripping with lethal sweetness. "Come over here with that." Astrid's eyes went wide in fear. At Dorothy's feet, Toto growled from his jeweled velvet pillow. Not for the first time, I thought that I'd have sacrificed a body part if it meant I could throw that wretched dog out a window. A very high window. Astrid rounded the banquet table with her platter and came to stand on Dorothy's other side.

"Your Majesty," she said, her voice shaking. Technically, Ozma was the only person in the palace we should have addressed as "Your Majesty," since technically she was still the queen. But Dorothy was only too happy not to correct us. Soon we won't even notice she's taken over everything, I thought. The expression on Dorothy's face was different than I'd ever seen it-instead of her usual scowl of adolescent petulance, she looked positively malevolent. A chill ran down my spine. Something was very, very wrong. I have to get Astrid out of here, I thought frantically, taking a step forward. But it was too late.

"Annie," Dorothy crooned. "I've been waiting for the roast all evening. Jellia told me it's extra special tonight. Was there a problem in the kitchen, Astrid?"

"A p-problem, Your Majesty?"

"Something that might cause such a significant delay with the service," Dorothy said, her voice dripping honeyed menace. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Whatever happened next was not going to be good. "It must have been something simply disastrous, to keep a guest as honored as Glinda waiting."

Astrid's mouth trembled, her smile widening desperately and then faltering altogether. From the other end of the table, Glinda laughed. "Now, Dorothy," she said. "There's no need to be upset. I'm perfectly content."

"This is my palace!" Dorothy shrieked, all the syrupy sweetness gone from her voice. Her eyes blazed as she reached out and grabbed Astrid's arm, sending the platter clattering to the floor and the roast flying for the second time. Dorothy's glossy red talons dug into Astrid's flesh, and tears filled Astrid's eyes as a trickle of blood ran down her arm. "You know what we do in my palace with servants who cannot perform their tasks properly?" She released Astrid's blood-streaked arm and leaned back in her chair.

Glinda put one pale hand on Dorothy's arm. "Not yet, Dorothy," Glinda said, so low I almost missed it. "The time is not yet." I stared at Dorothy, my mouth half open in horror. She'd been cruel before, ent.i.tled and p.r.o.ne to outbursts. But I'd never seen her do anything like this.

"No, Your Majesty!" Astrid cried, sinking to her knees and sobbing. "Please, Your Majesty, I'm sorry-I'm so sorry-it will never happen again-miss, please, don't hurt me-"

"That's enough," I said sharply. Dorothy looked up at me, her eyes narrowed with surprise. "I made a mistake with the order of the dishes. There's no need to punish Astrid." I added a hasty and belated, "Your Majesty."

"Is that so," Dorothy said. Her sudden calm was even more terrifying than her rage of moments ago. "Really, Jellia, you disappoint me."

"The servants are my responsibility," I said.

"Are you disagreeing with how I choose to discipline them?"

I took another deep breath. If I could distract Dorothy and calm her down, we might all get out of this banquet unscathed. "Of course not, Your Majesty," I said. "As always, your wisdom is boundless. But I should have known that-that"-I racked my brain and hit on an idea-"I should have known that Astrid was too young to wait on such an important guest. The pressure was too much for her. She's just nervous, Your Eminence-please, there's no need to punish her." I curtsied in Glinda's direction for good measure, and caught an evil little smile flicker across her face and vanish again.

"Your head maid is a feisty little thing, isn't she?" Glinda said, turning from Dorothy to me. "Come here." Surprised, I looked at Dorothy, whose expression was uncertain. Astrid, forgotten, began to creep away from the table on her hands and knees.

"Obey Glinda, Jellia," Dorothy snapped. I curtsied again and walked over to where Glinda was seated. She'd barely touched her food; her plate was still full. From a distance, she was beautiful; up close, she was even more so. Her soft strawberry-blond curls framed her heart-shaped, ageless face. Her eyes were a bright, cornflower blue. She was wearing a pale pink ball gown sewn together out of what looked like tiny scales of leather; the effect was almost like armor, but still managed to be pretty. She stretched out one delicate, immaculately manicured hand and gripped my chin, turning my face back and forth as she studied me like a bug under a magnifying gla.s.s. Her blue eyes bored into me and I felt as though I were falling into a bottomless pool, sinking deeper and deeper below the surface as I helplessly watched the sunlight recede above me and the darkness intensify all around me. You're supposed to be the Good Witch, I thought faintly. But the look in Glinda's eyes was cold, hard, appraising.

"You can't just have my maid," Dorothy said indignantly. Her voice broke the spell. I inhaled sharply, as though I'd just been underwater. "She's mine." What was she talking about?

"Just for the summer," Glinda said, her eyes not leaving my face. "You can have her back just as soon as I'm done with her, Dorothy. You wouldn't begrudge me this one favor, would you? After everything I've done for you?" Her voice was so syrupy I swore I could see the words oozing out of her mouth and flowing across the table toward Dorothy like a pink, sugary tide. Dorothy blinked, her mouth falling open a little, as the thick, s.h.i.+mmering liquid slid up the front of her dress and into her open mouth. Dorothy licked her lips, which glistened as though they'd been dipped in sugar. I blinked. I wasn't imagining it.

"Just for the summer," she whispered. But Glinda wasn't looking at her; she was still staring at me.

You see it, don't you, little girl? You can see the magic, not just feel it. I heard her voice inside my mind, but her lips weren't moving. Her fingers tightened on my chin and I went rigid with terror. I had never been so frightened in my life. You don't even know what you are, do you? You haven't the faintest idea, she crooned inside my skull. I can make much use of you, child. Much use indeed. She let me go and I staggered backward, nearly falling to the floor. Around us, the guests who'd fallen silent during Dorothy's tantrum began to chat nervously again, and the buzz of conversation filled the banquet hall. The servants, moving hesitantly at first and then with more confidence, refilled gla.s.ses and cleared plates, brought out trays piled with colorful desserts. The room returned to normal for everyone but me.

"Just for the summer," Glinda said pleasantly. "I think it will be such a wonderful time. Don't you, Jellia?"

My heart hammering in my chest, my limbs finally released from her terrible power, I answered in the only way I could. I turned and fled the room.

THREE.

Packing for the journey to Glinda's was simple. I told myself that Glinda was telling the truth, no matter how much she'd scared me the night before: this would just be for the summer. There was no need to clean out my room in the Emerald Palace. Just a few dresses and pairs of shoes. Glinda would probably have her own servants' uniforms, but I added my work dress just in case. I looked over my tidy little room and neatly arranged possessions, wondering if I'd ever see them again, and quickly squashed that thought. Of course I'd be back. Dorothy would insist on it, and Dorothy was in charge now. I had made myself indispensable to her. I tried not to think about how easily Glinda had overruled Dorothy the night before, or just how powerless Dorothy had been when confronted with Glinda's magic. Or to wonder what Glinda wanted me for.

I snapped my fingers, and an image of all the other servants wavered into life before me, transparent and iridescent as a soap bubble. I could summon up their images whenever I wanted, I told myself. I could probably even send them messages, though I'd never tried to use my magic over long distances before. This summer I would learn how much I was capable of doing.

The hardest part was saying good-bye. Astrid had already burst into my room first thing that morning, her face wet with tears. "Jellia!" she wailed, flinging her arms around me and almost knocking me over onto my bed. "You can't go! It's all my f-f-fault," she sobbed into my shoulder. "Who will look after us when you're gone? Who will protect us?"

"It's just for the summer," I said firmly, gently moving her head off my shoulder before she blew snot all over me. "You'll have to be strong, Astrid. You can't always rely on other people to fight your battles for you. This summer will be your chance to grow up." She's just a kid, I thought, patting her back awkwardly. How can she stand up to Dorothy? What will they do without me? Technically, I was just a kid, but I'd always had a good head on my shoulders and a lot of responsibility. I felt about a million years older than Astrid, even though we were nearly the same age. And though I tried not to let her see it, inside I was almost as upset as she was. Glinda was seriously scary-and I had no idea what lay in store for me.

Despite our hasty departure, word had spread fast around the palace, and all the servants were a.s.sembled in the courtyard to see me off. I took a deep breath, determined not to cry. I looked around for Ozma but wasn't totally surprised by her absence. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen her walking around in the palace, and it made me worry even more about Dorothy's plans.

Glinda hovered a few feet away-literally, her glittery heels floating a few inches off the cobblestones. She had dressed for the journey as if she were headed to a ball. Her pale pink dress was embroidered with glittering gold thread and the bodice was studded with clear gemstones that caught the sunlight and refracted it into a blinding dazzle. Her hair was piled on top of her head and secured with more gems. A small squad of the Tin Woodman's soldiers stood at attention behind her mechanical carriage, their metallic bodies gleaming in the bright courtyard as the automaton horses-wired together out of tin and wood and gems-stamped their feet mechanically, their tinny neighing breaking the still air. Glinda beamed benevolently while the other servants came forward one by one to say good-bye. It wasn't like Dorothy to allow the servants a moment's respite, but Glinda's departure seemed to have put her in a good mood. She stood a few feet away from the witch, decked out in a tiny-waisted leather dress pieced together out of blue and white squares. As always, her red shoes emitted a rosy halo of light.

Astrid was still sobbing like the sweet little idiot she was; I had to resist the urge to pat her on the head like a dog. Hannah, the maid who was closest to me in age-and the closest thing I had to a best friend-came up to hug me. The Munchkin cooks surrounded me, flinging their arms around my knees and crying "Jellia! Jellia! Don't go!" in unison. I was touched, even if they made walking a little awkward.

"It's just for a few months," I rea.s.sured them, hugging them one by one. "I promise. You'll barely notice I was gone. Take good care of Dorothy-don't forget about the bacon-"

"-and color code her dresses," Hannah finished. "We know, J. It'll be okay." Astrid wailed aloud, and Hannah rolled her eyes. I laughed. She always knew how to cheer me up.

"Jellia," Glinda cooed, "we really must be going. You'll see all your little friends again before you even know it! I need your help at my palace now."

I gave everyone one last wave before I climbed reluctantly into Glinda's carriage. To my surprise, I saw the Scarecrow stumble out of the palace, carrying an enormous satchel. Behind him stretched a line of the Tin Woodman's soldiers, carrying various pieces of mechanical equipment and machine parts. Another carriage drew up behind Glinda's, and the soldiers busied themselves loading it with their burdens while the Scarecrow supervised.

"He's always late," Glinda said, and sighed. Gone was the terrifying witch of the night before; in the afternoon sunlight, she looked radiant and gentle, although her voice had a peevish tone that belied her sweet expression. Finally, the second carriage was loaded to the Scarecrow's satisfaction, and he gave Glinda a jaunty wave.

"Everything will work as we discussed?" she called in a honeyed voice. He nodded jerkily, his black b.u.t.ton eyes flas.h.i.+ng in the sun.

"If the girl has enough magic to power the device," he said. The Scarecrow only spoke rarely, and his dry, straw-like voice always sent chills through me. What girl was he talking about? Did he mean me? What magic could I possibly have?

"Oh, I'm confident of that," Glinda said gaily. "I believe in the power of positive thinking, don't you? If everything's ready, I think it's time we were going." She rapped sharply on the roof of the carriage, and the driver snapped to life with a whirr of clockwork. "Good-bye, Dorothy!" Glinda sang merrily. "Good-bye, Emerald City! Say good-bye, Jellia! We've got such adventures ahead of us!"

I did not like the sound of that at all. I waved out the window as the servants shrank behind us in the distance, and I didn't turn back to face the road until they were nothing more than tiny dots against the glittering green of the Emerald Palace. Whatever happened next, I was on my own now.

FOUR.