The Librarian (Book Two: Unhappily Ever After) (15 page)

"What others? Who are you talking about?"

"You're surprised they came back? Kids always want what they can't have. And this?" He gestured toward the window. "It's the biggest cookie jar of all time. Even
I
couldn't resist when I was their age."

Worry washed over the librarian.

"I can't believe
you
came back," Douglas continued. "You gave your amulet to the Bates boy, right?"

"How could you possibly know that?"

"How were you planning to make it home?"

The librarian sighed. "I was hoping we'd go back together."

Douglas laughed and shook his head at the old man.

"Please, Douglas. Don't do this. I know you feel like you're doing the right thing, but—"

"The Elders have allowed me to come this far."

"The Elders have turned a blind eye because you've threatened their lives and promised them riches." Douglas narrowed his eyes. "You aren't the only one who's done his homework, son."

"You'd be wise to follow their lead, old friend."

Douglas had been warm to this point, but his voice was turning cold. The librarian could tell he was irritating him.

"You... you mean the world to me... even now... but don't get in my way more than you already have."

The threat filled the librarian with great sadness. He'd really thought he could talk Douglas down, but it was suddenly clear that wasn't going to happen.

The old man threw his shoulders back. "I don't care who you bring – the Headless Horseman, the Wicked Witch, it doesn't matter – you can build an army of villains if you like, but when you come into the catacombs, I'll be standing where I belong: between you and
The Book of Real
."

Douglas shook his head.

"I'm only taking what you promised me. I wouldn't—"

The librarian cut him off. "You misunderstood, and apparently, the Elders have forgotten. The book isn't mine to give. I'm a curator. It's my job to protect it and everything inside the library. It's a job that would have been yours, if only..."

"If only
what
?"

"If only you'd earned it."

Douglas stared through the bars at his former teacher with his jaw clenched. His face reddened as he tried to hold onto his anger, but eventually it erupted from within him like the magma from a volcano.
 

"No one deserves this more than me!"

He grabbed the cell bars and shook them so violently the librarian thought he might rattle them loose, step into the cell and beat him to death.

"You know what I've lost! I've given more than any of you!"

The old man backed away from the cell door.

"It's my turn, damn it! It's my time to... to..."

Douglas stormed out of the room, and the librarian heaved a sigh of relief.

THE VILLAGERS HAD regrouped in the valley shortly after their victory over the Gnomes. Many were resting in the shade of a tarp from the wagon; others were gathered together and eating crusts of bread; a few were treating the wounded while children played on the grinding machine, beating it with sticks as if slaying an evil dragon.

Taylor walked through the makeshift camp to an area near the tree line where the Cowardly Lion was lying in the grass and licking his wounds. The Munchkin Maiden was there, too, inspecting the damage done to the Tinman's body by the Gnomes.

"Is he okay?" Taylor asked.

"Not to worry," the Tinman explained. "I only have a few dents in my torso. Nothing that can't be fixed with a little hammer work."

 
"Don't worry!" the Maiden exclaimed. "I'm going to take good care of him." She took the Tinman's hand. There was a sparkle in her eye that dimmed as she began to realize her fiancé did not share her joy.
 

 
"Come," he said. "There's something we must discuss, dear."

The Scarecrow joined their small group just as the Tinman led the maiden away. "Where are they going?" he asked.

"I'm not really sure," Taylor said.

"I've never seen a man made of metal before. Is there a race of metal men living in Oz that I don't know about?"

"No," Taylor said. "He's one of a kind."

"Oh," the Scarecrow said. "That's not too unusual. I think I am, too. One of a kind, that is. Unless, of course, you've seen another talking Scarecrow walking around."

Taylor watched the Tinman and Maiden with great interest until they disappeared into the forest. Once they were gone, she turned to face the Scarecrow.

"I haven't," she said. "I think you're the only one."

While the Lion looked quite normal – like any real-world lion she'd seen in the Astoria zoo – the Scarecrow definitely belonged in the fairy tale land. He looked like a stuffed toy come to life. He was wearing a farmer's plaid shirt and denim overalls. Straw could be seen poking out from beneath his collar and at the end of each of his sleeves. He had button eyes that never blinked. The rest of his features were sewn onto his cloth face with colorful yarn.

Wesley walked over and joined them.

"Hey," Taylor said. "I was just going to—"

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Wesley snapped.

Taylor recoiled a bit. Wesley's cold demeanor had morphed into something different since their battle with the Gnomes. He seemed angry now – as if he was looking for a fight.

"I was getting there, Wes." She gestured toward Wesley beside her. "Guys? This is my best friend, Wesley. We're... well... we know Dorothy."

"We don't
know
her," Wesley corrected.

Taylor looked over at Wesley and arched her eyebrows. Tay didn't like stretching the truth so much, but felt she didn't really have a choice. Wesley knew that. So why was he trying to make things more difficult for her than they already were? Was he looking to start a fight with
her
?

"Well," Taylor stammered. "We don't
know
her. But... well... we're from the same place."

"Kansas?" the Lion asked. It was strange hearing words come out of the animal's mouth.

"Near there," Taylor said.

"Oh," the Scarecrow said softly. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm the bearer of terrible news. Dorothy was... well... she was killed a few days ago in a valley not far from here."

"P-p-please don't t-talk about this," the Lion said nervously. "I'm not sure I c-can take it again."

"That's okay," Taylor said, patting the lion's side. "We already know what happened."

"Really?" the Scarecrow asked. "How?"

Taylor looked over at Wesley for approval. He made an exaggerated gesture toward the Scarecrow and shook his head. She'd known him long enough to read his body language with ease...

You've already lied once, Tay. Might as well do it again.

"Well," Taylor began, "you can't tell anyone... but... well... the Wizard in Emerald City sent us to help you. It's a long story. We have a lot to talk about."

THE TINMAN AND the Munchkin Maiden found privacy away from the others in the forest. They were sitting together on an old, hollowed-out tree, the Maiden with the Tinman's hand in her lap.

"I knew you'd come," she said. "I told the others. They didn't believe me, but I wouldn't let myself despair the way I did before." She saw the sadness had not left the Tinman as she'd expected. "What is it?
 
What's wrong, my love?"

He sighed. "We're going to go through something very hard. But you're not alone. Okay? Not this time. These people are—"

"I have you. I—"

"I can't stay."

His words sucked the wind from her sails. Suddenly panicked, she began to fidget, blinking wildly and playing with her hair as she fought a rush of fresh tears. "W-What are you talking about? Of course you can stay."

"Do you remember the children who brought us together? Taylor and Wesley? The kids who found me in the forest?"

"How could I forget?"

"They've told me they can fix things in Oz – make everything go back to the way they were before."

"But... that's perfect!"

"I have to go with them."

The color drained from the Maiden's face. "No!" she whimpered. "No! No! No! I won't allow it." She pulled his hand into her chest. "You can't leave me. We've already been through too much—"

"That's why I have to go. Others in Oz are suffering just as we did. What if I can help them?"

"Let someone else. You've done enough. You're a hero to these people now. Let someone else save Oz."

"I'm not a hero," he said. "I've done things, love. Terrible things. Things a man with a heart could never do."

"We've told you," the Maiden pleaded. "Your heart has nothing to do with who you are."

"But I believe it does."

She saw that the Tinman would not give in.

"Fine," the Maiden said, standing up. "Then I'll go with you. We can save Oz together."

"You can't," he whispered.

"Why not?" she shrieked angrily. She was yelling loud enough now that the Tinman knew the others in camp could probably hear.

"I only know what I was told. No one can come. Only me, Taylor, the Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion. That's how it's supposed to be."

"And what is it you're supposed to do?"

The Tinman hung his head. He knew his answer would only make things worse.

"We're going to kill the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Oh no! No! Run away with me," the Maiden said, her words running together in desperation. "We'll go someplace far away, leave everything behind just like we planned."

She began to caress his cheek. He took her hands away.

"I can't, my love. Don't you understand? If I leave Oz like this, I won't be any different than those who walked past my frozen body in the forest."
 

She started to cry. He moved a hand to her face to wipe the tears away but saw his metal hand and realized he couldn't. Just her tears would be enough to rust his joints.

"I will come back for you. I promise."

"I've heard that before," she said angrily.

The Tinman flinched at her tone.

"Please understand. Please... forgive me."

He kissed her hand gently then started to walk away. He was halfway down the path when she yelled out after him.

 
"I won't!" she cried.

He stopped, looking back at her over his shoulder. "What?"

"I won't forgive you."

"You don't mean that. We're—"

"Soulmates?!" She shook her head. "Only someone without a heart could do this to the woman he loves!
People
have soulmates. You're something else. Good luck...
Tinman
."

His shoulders slumped into a frown. Then, the Tinman turned and trudged away. When he was gone, the Munchkin Maiden began to sob.
 

TAYLOR AND WES were still talking with the others when the Tinman reappeared from the woods. Most in camp had heard the tail end of their argument and tried to avert their eyes, but Wesley walked over to greet his sad-looking friend.

"What happened? You okay?"

The Tinman ignored the question and gestured toward Taylor standing with the Scarecrow and the Lion. "Have they agreed to help?"

"It looks that way," Wesley nodded.

"Good," the Tinman said. "I will as well, but you must take me from this place. If I stay, I can't promise I won't change my mind."

Wesley understood and hurried back to Taylor.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He says he'll go. We just have to get out of here now." He turned to the Scarecrow. "Can you take us back to the spot where Dorothy was killed?"

The Scarecrow scratched his head. "I don't know that I can remember exactly where Dorothy fell. My memory isn't good."

The Lion sighed. "We can s-show you where she's b-b-buried."

That was close enough for Tay. She looked over at Wesley.

"Will you tell Hope it's time to go?"

Wesley smirked, saluting Taylor sarcastically before he left. She ignored him the best she could. Taylor didn't know what had gotten into Wes but knew this wasn't the time to address it.

Taylor started across the camp, her eyes falling on the Munchkin Maiden when she came out of the forest. She was crying and shaking so badly that a few of the village women went over to help her back into camp.

Taylor looked over at the Tinman. He was collecting his things and seemed intent on keeping his back turned to the Maiden. Her heart ached for them. She knew this was the right thing to do – but why the heck did it have to hurt so badly?

THE LIBRARIAN PUSHED his hand through the bars on his cell. He was surprised to see just how easily he could access the lock. Now, if only he had something to jimmy it open.

He began to pace, scanning the floor. He'd read enough bad novels to know breaking out would be easy if the girl who'd wrapped his shoulder had left a needle behind or if the munchkins had accidentally dropped a fork.

But there was nothing.

The librarian fell to one knee, hoping to find his bed's frame was held together with nails or screws – anything he could pry loose and use to pick the lock. Instead, he found the cot's frame was carved from a single piece of wood. There were no seams to speak of – no metal pieces holding it together at all.

He stood up, kicking at the bed in frustration.

T
hink, old man. Think!

He took off his wire spectacles and was wiping them with the tail of his shirt when the spark of an idea lit up his world. He reached through the bars to feel the lock once more, this time taking an extra moment to measure the keyhole's shape and size with his fingertips.

When finished, he began to bend the wire frames on his glasses out of shape. He made the earpiece as long and as pointed as possible then shoved his glasses through the cell bars. When his fingers found the lock again he carefully jammed the earpiece from his glasses into the keyhole and began to jimmy the lock as best he could.