The Librarian (Book Two: Unhappily Ever After) (11 page)

"They look pretty bad to me," Hope said.

"We should help," Taylor suggested. She turned to find that the Tinman was one step ahead of her, already pushing through the shop's wooden doors. And though she couldn't be sure, not at first, Taylor thought he was dragging the Tinsmith's heavy sledgehammer behind him.

TAYLOR AND THE others watched from the shop window as the Tinman hobbled down the steps and into the street, his borrowed hammer leaving a trail in the mud behind him as he went. He reached the town's square unnoticed, his eyes alive with fury as they fell on the two Wheelers tormenting the young boy.

"That boy's done nothing to you!" the Tinman boomed, his usually high voice sinking to a low and far-off place. "Leave him be!"

The Wheelers stopped, shifting their attention to the Tinman. Confused, the first cocked his head to the side as if a new perspective might help him to understand. The Wheelers were known to be fierce creatures. They had never been confronted like this. Unfazed, the second tossed his head back and squelched. This was usually enough to instill fear in their prey. But the Tinman did not move. Undeterred, one of the Wheelers began to giggle as he rolled toward him.

"yOu FReaK!" the Wheeler squealed. His voice sounded like tin foil. "bE gOnE, FooL! MEtAL mAn! LeaVE BeFORe wE TEaR yOU tO tINy, LitTlE BItS!" He picked up speed, rolling past the Tinman before circling around.

But the Tinman didn't budge, only turning his head to watch as the Wheeler began skating in a tight circle around him.

"DoN'T yOU kNoW tHe WHEelERs, frEaK?! BeLIEve yOuR MEtAL eYeS! wE aRe NoT tO Be tRiFLeD wITh! wE KiLL wItHOuT tHiNKinG! wE'vE CoME FroM tHe LaND oF eV tO SWaLLoW yOuR sOuL!"

"I know who you are," the Tinman whispered. "And now I know your secret."

"We HaVE nO SeCreTs!" The Wheeler's laugh grew until his deafening cackle drowned out the night. He was so caught up that he didn't notice the Tinman had raised the sledgehammer and was now gripping it tightly in both hands.

The Wheeler's friend squelched a warning, but it was too late. The Tinman swung the hammer just as he'd swung his axe so many times before. It caught the Wheeler with such force that it knocked the wind from his lungs. Breath escaped his lips like air rushing out of dying balloon.

Suddenly silent, the Wheeler struggled to right himself. He'd fallen, and though he was born with them, he often found his wheels difficult to manage – especially when under duress. The Tinman buried the massive hammer in his chest again, and this time, bones and skin were broken. Blood gushed from a wound where broken ribs had torn through the Wheeler's chest.

"Wes," Taylor cried. "We have to do something! He's gonna kill him!" Wesley didn't respond, his wide eyes fixed on the action outside.

Taylor pushed past him in a huff and moved for the door. She could sense the Tinman was about to go too far. She'd thought he went out to save the little boy. Instead, the Tinman was looking for revenge. Something about that didn't feel right. Those kids were playing tug-o-war again, her heart pounding like it would break through her chest. It actually hurt. And why wouldn't it? The fight between right and wrong is often a painful one.

The Wheeler rolled onto his back. "PlEaSe," he cowered. "DoN't hURt mE! wE WeRe oNLy FUNniNG!" He held his long arms into the air, but they would offer little help. Just as Taylor'd explained, he had no hands to fight the Tinman off, no feet to kick him away.

"How does it feel?" the Tinman asked. "Knowing there's nothing you can do? That helpless ache of despair?"

The Wheeler looked over at his friend. "HeLp mE, YoU DoLT!" The Wheeler watching from the town's square let his head hang then turned to skate away.

"nO! sToP!"

"Maybe you should call your monkey friends," the Tinman said coldly. "Maybe they can help you."

The Wheeler looked up at him. "PlEaSE," he cried. "TeLL mE wHaT yOu WaNt! i'LL dO aNyTHiNG!"

Taylor came out of the shop just in time to see the Tinman raise his sledgehammer into the air. "No!
Don't!
"

But the Tinman didn't listen. He brought the hammer down in one violent arc after another, each bloody blow bringing a cry of pain from the Wheeler until there was nothing left to scream.

RANDY HAD SPENT most his life looking up to his father as sons often do. Douglas was his hero, his idol – the epitome of everything he wanted to be. But the shiny veneer was beginning to wear thin. Randy was finally seeing his father as others did. Douglas had done terrible things since stepping into the Astoria library, and while Randy could justify most of those, this was different. People in Astoria had often described Douglas Stanford as a villain. Randy had scoffed at the notion, but the evidence before him now was hard to deny. Douglas had taken an audience with the Wicked Witch of the West – one of the most feared villains of all time – and she was treating him as an equal. Even worse, the two seemed to be becoming friends.

"You say all of Oz is controlled by this man in your world," the Witch said, repeating information Douglas had already conveyed. "Anything he writes in his book
there
... happens
here
?" Douglas nodded, smiling until she batted him away with her hand. "Then he's already given me everything I want," the Witch said. "Why do I need you?"

She was right. Douglas caught Randy's eye and frowned. The two kids from his class had stirred up a lot of trouble for Douglas when they decided to take a little jaunt into Oz. How was he supposed to deal with the Witch if she didn't think she needed any help? He was struggling to find a strategy until he realized that she had already bought into the idea she had no real control over her actions. He'd held similar meetings, convincing characters like the Witch they lacked control was usually the most difficult part. At least he'd done that.

"You have what you want.
For now.
But you don't know how the book ends. Baum wrote fourteen books about Oz. You know how many he put you in?" The Witch watched Douglas raise a single finger. "If your rule of this land's to last, don't you think you'd exist beyond the first book?"

"Bah!" the Witch jeered. "Who's heard of such things? Books that come true? I'll take my chances before shaking hands with some outlander in strange clothes that's come to me with such tall tales."

Douglas stepped toward her. "You're skeptical," he said softly. "I understand. I do. I'm a stranger in your land, and you have no reason to trust me. Not one. But what if you're wrong? If you listen to me and
I'm
wrong, you've lost nothing. But if you ignore me and I'm
right
..."

Her bulging eye went to the pistol sitting on a stone table nearby. "You can grant me this power?" she asked with a nod toward the gun.

"I can arm every one of your guards with a noisemaker like this one. And there's more where that came from. My world is home to weapons you can't imagine. Bigger. Louder. You'll have access to them all. You're rule in Oz will never end. I guarantee it."

Her expression gave nothing away. Until, finally—

"Fine," she said. "What is it you want from me?"

EVERYONE SAT IN a circle around a fire the village children had built. Nearly a dozen pale kids had come out of hiding, first scavenging food from the general store then nestling in with Taylor and Wesley to hear the Tinman's tale – a story that began just after his heartfelt reunion with his fiancé, the Munchkin Maiden.

"We left shortly after the two of you went home," the Tinman told Taylor and Wes. "We were ready to put all of Oz between us and that dreadful woman in the woods." He looked into the darkness beyond. "We hoped to get as far as we could before sunset, but the sky turned black long before it rightly should. Storm clouds rolled in from the horizon. Lighting flashed. Thunder rolled. It was unlike any storm I'd ever seen. Flowers at our feet began to wilt. Plants withered before our eyes. Then... it was so strange... it was like... the end days. Everything around us began to fade. The whole world turned the color of ash."

Taylor cringed. His story was starting to sound strangely familiar.

"The earth began to quake beneath us." His voice wavered. "I couldn't stay on my feet." He looked at Nell in Taylor's lap. "Your father did a fine job building this metal body, but my balance is nothing like it once was." His words quickened. "I told my fiancé to leave me behind, but she wouldn't. We started back for the cabin. We had to get out of the storm, even if it meant confronting the old woman again. I fell a dozen times along the way, but my love was always there to pick me up." He hung his head. "Every single time, she was there to catch me when I fell."

"How long did the quake last?" Hope asked.

"Not long," the Tinman said. "It was over by the time we arrived. The old woman had taken shelter beneath her bed." A grin cropped up on the Tinman's face, but it quickly faded. "The rains came next. It washed the grey away, and for a brief moment, I thought things would go back to the way they were, that the darkness would pass."

"Is that when they came?"

"The Wheelers?" the Tinman asked. "I'd heard of them, of course. They terrorize all who live in the Land of Ev, but I've never known them to be in Oz." He shook his head. "They kept circling the house. Those noises they make. And the laughing. That
awful
laughing. It was more than I could take. It was raining, but I unlocked the door and stepped onto the porch with my axe. I was hoping to scare them away, but the monkeys... they were waiting... they were working together, you see? And I... I was so foolish. The Wheelers
made
me open the door."

Taylor's mind drifted back to the old woman and her strange chant.
Wheelers and monkey wings
, she'd said.
These are a few of my favorite things
. It had been the ramblings of a mad woman. Then. Now? Now it made a lot more sense.

"The monkeys pulled me into the cabin," the Tinman continued. "The old woman was screaming from under the bed. And those Wheelers... they just kept laughing." He closed his eyes. A teardrop dirty with oil fell down his cheek. "The monkeys held me down and pulled my love into the doorway. Then... they... they... they made her watch."

"What do you mean?" Wesley asked.

"They didn't take her away until they were done with me. They held her there, in the doorway." He tried to wipe his tears away, and his joints screamed for oil. "I couldn't stop them. There were too many. I
swear
I tried, but... they ripped off my arms. Then my legs. Then..." More black tears began to roll.

A long silence fell over them when the Tinman was finished. His weren't the only tears. Many of the children were crying, too. Taylor was sure they had similar stories to tell. All the people in Oz had stories to tell about the day their world had changed. And it was all Taylor's fault.

"I'm sorry," Taylor said.

"Why would you apologize?" the Tinman asked.

"Because we—"

"She's sorry for
your loss
," Hope said quickly. "We
all
are."

The Tinman studied Taylor closely before offering an appreciative nod that made his joints squeak. Taylor stood up, taking his oilcan from a sack nearby so that she could oil his joints.

Wesley ran a hand through his hair and blew out a deep breath. "What if we told you we could help make things go back to the way they were?"

This time the Tinman's cold gaze fell on the boy. "You returned because you knew this would happen, I think." Wes looked away beneath his icy stare. "I knew you were different," the Tinman continued. "You aren't from Oz or any of her lands."

No one spoke.

Then—

"You're right," Taylor whispered.

"Taylor!" Hope exclaimed.

"He already knows!" Taylor turned to face the Tinman. "You're right. We're from another world."

Hope shot Wesley a look. "See?! This is why
you
should be talking!"

Taylor ignored them. "We're here to help, but we can't fix things in Oz without you."

"And how could we possibly do that?"

Wesley grimaced. Yet again, someone was looking for answers they didn't have. It was his idea to come looking for the Tinman and his Munchkin Maiden, but who knew what they were supposed to do once they—

"We have to kill the Wicked Witch," Taylor answered matter-of-factly.

"Gah! Do you know how many have died storming the Witch's castle?" the Tinman asked in disbelief. "They've tried. But still, she lives."

"That's because we're the only ones who can do it," Taylor explained. "You, me... and two others."

Wesley wanted to argue, but couldn't. It was news to him, but there was poetic justice in Taylor's plan. While there had been small changes to the
Oz
book in the chapters immediately following the Tinman's rescue, it wasn't until Dorothy's death that the story had jumped the tracks for good. If they were going to make this right – if it was even possible – it only made sense that they team with Dorothy's companions and return to the spot where she fell. And then, of course, someone would have to take Dorothy's place.

Wesley watched Taylor stand up and walk over to the Tinman. "It isn't fair, I know. But it has to be us. No one else can do it." She looked over at Wesley. "And no one else can come."

"Who are these others you speak of?"

Taylor sighed. "A Scarecrow and a... a Cowardly Lion."

"A Cowardly Lion? Who's heard of such a thing? We'll never succeed!"

Taylor didn't respond. She had nothing else to say. Instead, she watched the Tinman look into the fire for answers.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I can't."

"What?!" Wesley asked.

The Tinman grabbed the sledgehammer and began to walk away. "Oz cursed me with this body then left me frozen in the forest so my love could be a slave to that awful woman in the woods. Why should I do anything for her?"