“He said something about how I was stronger than the ‘other one.’ I think he meant Dorothy. And he told me not to trust anyone,” I said, remembering.

“Oh dear,” Mombi said quietly. Her leathery face went white. That’s when I knew we were in serious trouble. “He knew who you were? That’s not good at all.”

“You’re not being very reassuring.”

“It just means we have to find the shoes before he does anything else. Do that, and we may be back in business. Maybe.” She frowned. “But I don’t like the sound of that, little missy. You be on your toes. If he’s using Dorothy somehow and decides you’ll make a more valuable pet . . .” She didn’t have to finish. I didn’t want to think about the rest of that sentence. Not here, in the one place I’d almost felt safe for the first time in months: the frilly little pink bedroom my mom had created as she held out for my return. I knew the safety was an illusion. I’d learned in Oz that safety always was. But I couldn’t help it. Some part of me wanted to pretend it was enough to protect me. That I could just stay here and go back to being ordinary. That I could check out of this never-ending mission and let someone else take over for a while.

But I couldn’t tell the old witch any of that—even though, from the way she was looking at me, I was pretty sure she could guess at least some of it. I turned my thoughts back to the mission. Which was, after all, in pretty serious trouble on its own.

“Mombi, I don’t know how to find the shoes. I thought I could find something in the library, but that turned out to be a dead end.”

“Why would the Nome King descend on you in a pool of darkness if you were looking at a dead end, Amy?” She had a point there.

“But I didn’t find anything. Just this old blank notebook.”

“Let me see it,” she ordered. I dug through my bag and pulled out the notebook, handing it to her, but it passed through her hands. “Goddamn projecting,” she muttered. “I always forget. Turn the pages for me.” Yet again, I flipped through the book as Mombi’s keen eyes watched the blank pages turn.

“I can feel the power in that book. Can’t you?” I closed my eyes, concentrating on the weight of the book in my palms. And once I paid attention, I understood what Mombi meant. It was barely there, but unmistakable—like the charge on a television screen after you turn it off. “You’re right,” I said. “There’s something there.”

“I’m going to funnel my magic through you,” Mombi said. “It should work—you won’t need any power of your own, you’ll just need to be a conduit. But it may be too much for me to unlock whatever that book is hiding and keep projecting myself here. If I disappear—you’re going to be on your own again. And if there’s no clue about how to find the shoes . . .”

She didn’t have to finish. If I didn’t find the shoes, we were screwed.

“Let’s do it,” I said with more confidence than I felt. The idea of Mombi using me as a funnel was weird and kind of scary, but at least we were doing something. If Mombi wasn’t ready to give up, neither was I. “No one would go to this much trouble to hide a book if it didn’t hold something important.”

Mombi eyed me appraisingly, and I saw something like respect flicker in her eyes. It was kind of nice. We hadn’t always seen eye to eye, and I still had no idea if she even had my best interests at heart. (Let’s face it: probably not.) But it still meant something to me to have the old witch’s respect. She closed her eyes and began to mouth the words to a spell. Suddenly, I remembered what I’d seen when the Nome King had paralyzed me. The witches, looking out in fear. And Nox, all alone out on the prairie somewhere. Was what I’d seen real? What was he doing out there?

“Wait!” I said. She opened her eyes again, this time looking slightly irritated. Too bad. “How’s Nox? Where is he?” Mombi gave me a look so withering that if she had actually been in the room I probably would have flinched.

“He’s fine, and you don’t need to know anything else,” she said disgustedly. “Are you ready now?”

I wanted to ask more, but I knew better than to push my luck. Wherever Nox was, he either couldn’t or wouldn’t contact me—and neither option was all that appealing. If the witches had sent him on some secret mission, Mombi obviously wasn’t going to tell me. Mombi had already closed her eyes and was going back to her spell. The book in my hands began to radiate heat. <