Tin (Faeries of Oz Book 1) Read online

  “But—”

  “At the very least, try not to draw attention to us by gawking out the window or stomping around like an angry troll.”

  His cloak landed hard on his face. “Call me a troll again,” Dorothy snarled.

  Tin blinked in surprise at her audacity before using the cloak as a blanket. “An angry troll. And you just proved my point.”

  “We haven’t seen each other in ten years, you pull me back to Oz, and then want to take a nap?” she asked, indignant.

  “Let’s get one thing clear, shall we?” His piercing silver eyes latched onto her brown ones. “I don’t care. Not about old times, not about you. This is a job.”

  “Job?”

  “Lion hired me to bring you to him.” If he left out the part about Lion’s courage driving him into darkness, and into the bed of that crazy bitch Langwidere, Dorothy wouldn’t know to be wary of her old friend. She would follow Tin straight to Langwidere’s door for the tradeoff. “He needs your help.” To keep his lover happy and swimming in new heads.

  “Is he okay? What does he need help with?”

  “Dorothy,” Tin warned.

  “What about Crow?”

  He rolled over and gave Dorothy his back. The truth was, Tin had no idea what had happened to Crow after the Wizard got his brain working properly, but if he had to guess, it wasn’t good. Nothing was anymore.

  Chapter Four

  Dorothy

  Dorothy stood in the darkened night of a strange, utterly small room with a low ceiling that her head almost brushed against, that Tin’s had touched. While the sun had already set in her world, it had also found its hiding place here.

  Her breathing increased with growing annoyance as she watched the fae in front of her, the moonlight highlighting the silver of his long hair.

  When she’d first realized that Tin was the one who’d pulled her through the portal, she couldn’t help being overjoyed. But that had quickly slipped away when it had become apparent that he wasn’t the same person.

  And now, he thought he could just roll over and turn his back on her? Wearing a cloak like a blanket? That she would be fine and dandy about it? Outrageous. She stomped to the other side of the bed, not bothering to placate him with silence. But as soon as her gaze took in the markings on his cheek again, her anger left her. Where had the silver lines come from? And how was he already asleep? Her feet clomping the wood hadn’t disrupted him in the slightest, as his breaths came out slow and even.

  She’d noted as she’d peered under the tall fiery posts, at the houses with chipped paint and broken pieces, that this wasn’t the Oz she remembered. This wasn’t the Tin she remembered either. Everyone had been happy-go-lucky before, besides the witch and her minion monkeys. But she hadn’t come across anyone else yet either, so perhaps the rest of Oz wasn’t as gloomy as this outer layer.

  When she’d last been in Oz with Tin and the others, he’d been quiet and sulky, but nothing like this. It was as though he was jaded now. And when his stone heart had become a live, beating organ, he’d even cracked a smile at her before she’d left. That perfect smile had remained with her while back in Kansas, the one she’d always sworn to herself that she’d see again. There were no smiles now.

  He’d told her Lion needed her. If she couldn’t get answers from Tin tonight, well, she’d leave him behind and go find her other friend. She wasn’t going to waste her time here. And maybe once she found Lion, he could tell her where Crow was.

  “Sorry, Tin, you can catch up with me if you so desire,” she whispered to herself, and made way for the door, this time keeping her feet silent.

  Only, she found the door locked when she tried to turn the knob. She narrowed her eyes with the discovery that it needed a key to exit from inside. Her gaze drifted back to the sleeping fae.

  She’d seen him stow his axe—his prized possession—beneath the pillow, but nothing else. Her one chance of leaving had to be on his body, and she had a feeling he wouldn’t hand it over to her willingly.

  Dorothy tiptoed back to the bed, her eyes lingering on the rise of his naked chest where a portion of his cloak had slipped away. No key would be found there. In fact, she didn’t know how he wasn’t getting chilly with all that exposed skin in the cold room.

  Reaching forward, she softly padded her hands down the sides of his cloak, finding only emptiness. As her eyes drifted to his pants, her face heated at where her hands would have to venture next.

  Taking a deep swallow that felt too loud in her ears, she slipped her fingertips inside his right pocket. Ah-ha. Something metal brushed along her digits. Just as she was about to pull it out, two firm and warm hands grasped both her wrists, preventing her escape.

  “I don’t think so,” Tin growled in a low whisper.

  Before she could respond, her fingers were ripped from his pocket—key long gone from her grasp—and her body shoved up against his with an arm planted at her waist. All ‘snug and cozy,’ except she knew his intentions were anything but.

  “Apparently,” he murmured by her ear, his breath warm and tickling her nape, “you’re not to be trusted. Goodnight.”

  There was no goodnight.

  Grunting, she wiggled and tried to roll over to face him, but he was too strong. So she settled on talking to the grimy windowpane instead of his face. “Before, you mentioned that Lion needs me. I think we should go now. No need to sleep.”

  He didn’t answer. If anything, he seemed to hold onto her tighter.

  Huffing, she turned her head over her shoulder, unable to see anything in the dark now that the moonlight had shifted. “Can you at least answer why we need to stay here?”

  He exhaled with agitation, and even without seeing him, she knew he was scowling. “I don’t think you want to venture out into Oz at this time of night. As I said, things aren’t as they once were.”

  She’d traveled through the night before. The last time she was here, she remembered holding on to Crow’s hand for a good bit of the journey. He may not have been able to talk very clearly most of the time, but she’d felt closest to him, like he was her protector. As for Tin, there’d been a different feeling about him, one she hadn’t been able to name back then, one she was no longer feeling now. And Lion, while being a big baby, had done the best he could.

  Dorothy wished she hadn’t dropped her shotgun on the way into the portal. She wished she had Toto who would bark and scare the things of this world. But now it was only her and this man who wasn’t really a man at all.

  “Tell me why then,” she said. “Why can’t we leave now?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Tin.” She hated that his name came out more of a plea.

  “Stop saying that.”

  “What?” Her brows lowered in confusion. “Your name?”

  “Calling me by name would mean we’re friends, and we’re not that. Not anymore.”

  “But—”

  He let out a grumble as if he was warring with himself before he finally added, “If we left now, you’d have wished you stayed, so trust me on this. I told you earlier, there are night beasts here.”

  Dorothy couldn’t help wanting to spew out more questions about what kind of night beasts, but he was already asleep again. Something told her to listen to him, especially when crackling sounds outside stirred. She lifted her head an inch and listened. It wasn’t the chanting of the munchkins in song—dwarves—it was something far more sinister. Low growls and gurgles seemed to swarm the town. It must be the night beasts Tin mentioned.

  A shiver ran up her spine and she closed her eyes, curling closer into Tin, even though she should have moved farther away. As the sounds grew louder and louder, she was grateful the bed was far too narrow for him to push her away. He may not consider her a friend anymore, but she still considered him one as she remembered his smile to her, from long ago, once more.

  Her farm was no longer hers, and regardless of the changes to this place, she wanted to stay in Oz. Same as the last time she was here, she would make things better again. How bad could it truly be?

  A yawn escaped her and her eyes fluttered before she drifted off to sleep, pressed tightly against Tin’s arm.

  Something hard nudged Dorothy’s shoulder. “Sleeping,” she said, knowing it was Tin. He’d had his terms last night on when to sleep. This time, things would be on her terms of when to wake up.

  The nudge came again, harder than before. She flicked open her eyes, meeting that of a bare chest with a few pale scars running up it. Tin’s chest was firm and ripped, and nothing like Jimmy’s flat chest and stomach. She quickly tore her gaze away and focused on the wooden handle of the axe poking at her arm.

  Narrowing her eyes, she drifted her gaze up to Tin’s face, catching on his silver irises. He was scowling at her, and she found herself unsurprised by his expression.

  “You could have just said, ‘Dorothy, it’s time to leave.’ You know, like a gentleman would do.”

  “I’m no gentleman.” Tin tugged his shirt on and placed his cloak around his shoulders.

  “That you aren’t,” she muttered and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching her hands up, and arching her back forward to pop it. The farm work the day before had done a number on her body. The sky out the window appeared bright, and whatever beastly noises had erupted through the night were gone now.

  “What are you doing?” Tin asked, observing her as if she was a species he’d never seen before.

  “Can I not stretch for a moment?”

  “No,” he grunted, turning around and heading for the door.

  Rolling her eyes, she hurried after him as he unlocked it with a silver key.

  “What’s for breakfast?” she asked as she followed him down the narrow hallway with its bare, sickly-green
walls, to the stairs on the first floor. The room stood empty except for a dwarf with spiraled gray hair, seated at the front desk.

  “Whatever you find on the way.” Tin didn’t look back at her as he slammed the key down in front of the dwarf.

  “Hi, I’m—”

  Tin wrapped a hand over her mouth. “Leaving. She’s leaving.” He pushed her through the door and out toward the yellow brick road. Tired of his coldness already, she bit his hand and he cursed, quickly removing it.

  “What was that about?” she asked.

  “Don’t mention your name to anyone, understand?” He shook his hand out then balled it into a fist. “It’s dangerous.”

  “I’m not fae. People can call me Dorothy Gale all they want, and I can’t be controlled.” She wondered what Tin’s full name was, but she knew he would never tell her. And if he did, she’d control him right then.

  He sighed. “Everyone knows what you did before, and while a lot are happy about it, some aren’t. You’ll eventually understand why.”

  Dorothy took a deep swallow, as she peered at the unkempt village, wondering how defeating the Wicked Witch of the West would make people unhappy. “But—”

  “That’s enough.”

  She could tell he was in no mood to say anything else on that matter. “Fine, but I really do need something to eat.” Her stomach twisted and turned—it had been without anything since early the day before.

  With a frustrated shake of the head, he pointed to a fruit tree up the road.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t eat faerie fruit.” Crow had warned her what it did to mortals, and apparently, the Wizard was addicted to it. Even when she’d met him, he hadn’t seemed completely sane, so perhaps he was back then too.

  “Mmm, too bad then.”

  She scowled.

  He pointed again toward the trees. “There are some past those with various nuts.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me.”

  Dorothy stepped onto the yellow brick road and stared at the withering houses as she passed. Her heart beat rapidly as she gathered nuts into the pockets of her overalls while stepping on several to crack them open.

  Tin ate a few, then bit into a luscious-looking piece of fruit before they started back down the yellow path toward the South. The breeze held a tinge of coolness as it blew around them. The trees shuffled and swayed as Dorothy watched brownies and faeries swarm around the yellow and orange fruit.

  As they trekked farther and farther away from Dwarf Country, where only forestry surrounded them, something wobbled beneath her feet, catching her off balance.

  She peered down and gasped at the cracked, shifted rectangular pieces. “What happened to the yellow brick road?”

  Tin only shook his head and continued walking past her.

  “What happened?” Dorothy asked again. The road was not only a faded yellow now but there were cracks, some broken bricks, others missing, as though a tornado had run itself across the once beautiful path.

  “Most of the Emerald City and outlying areas have been destroyed.” He shrugged with nonchalance. “None of the territories are what they used to be.”

  “But not Glinda’s, right? The South is okay, isn’t it?” It couldn’t be that bad if that was where they were headed, could it?

  He paused. “You ask too many questions. That’s where we’re headed because that’s where Lion is.”

  “I defeated the Wicked Witch of the West. My house landed on the Wicked Witch of the East. Things should be better.” There was Locasta of the North and Glinda of the South. Both were good and both had planned to share the territories that the wicked had held.

  “Once a villain dies, another always rises. Good doesn’t always conquer evil. Besides, why do you care? You left Oz and never looked back.”

  She grasped his arm and spun him around, her anger boiling. “I never stopped looking back! I went home, Tin. But that didn’t mean I didn’t ever want to return! I couldn’t! No one ever came to me, I never found another portal, and the people in my world didn’t believe me. I was locked away for months at a time. People hurt me, physically and emotionally. Do you even know what that’s like?”

  His expression slipped for a moment, only briefly, but it was there. He’d looked as though he wanted to give a full answer, but then he simply said, “No.”

  “That’s right, because you have a heart of stone.” Her nostrils flared.

  “And you are but a lowly mortal.” He shrugged and walked away.

  Her anger rose, and she clenched her fists. She would head to the South by herself, but not before she forced him to show some emotion.

  She lunged forward, yanked the axe from his grip, and took off with a heavy sprint. It may have been childish to steal his weapon, but she didn’t care. He was irritating her to no end.

  Behind her, the pound of his feet reverberated, but she was quickly gaining space between them. Then a body slammed into her from the side, knocking her to the ground. She released hold of the axe and shouted in Tin’s face, “You’re the new coward! Somehow since I’ve been gone, you’ve inherited Lion’s old ways.”

  But it wasn’t Tin’s silver irises she was looking at; it was something else, with reddened eyes and saliva dripping from its mouth. A man with rotting skin and clumps of hair missing—mortal—one who had eaten too much faerie fruit.

  As the man snapped his teeth down toward her face, the slice of a weapon came across his neck. The head vanished and hot blood sprayed Dorothy.

  All that remained was a headless body slumped on her chest, warm blood pooling out from the dead man’s neck.

  Strong hands yanked Dorothy up by her arms, the still body falling from her. Two silver eyes met hers, blazing with fury.

  “I told you Oz isn’t the same,” Tin said through gritted teeth. “Now, are you going to listen to me?”

  She quickly nodded, even though it wasn’t entirely true, but right then she would.

  Chapter Five

  Tin

  Humans and fae didn’t have much in common, but neither seemed to listen to sense. Apparently, Dorothy was one of them—even if she had just agreed to start. With a snarl on his lips, Tin stared down at the blood-soaked woman. The faerie fruit addict’s body sprawled at their feet, his head tossed aside, and his blood coating Dorothy’s face. He had expected her to cry or scream. It was good she hadn’t. Little was worse than getting a mouthful of blood, especially that of a mortal addicted to faerie fruit. Something about the fruit made it disgustingly bitter. He’d found that out the hard way, completely by accident, when he’d assassinated a human at the beginning of his career in exchange for a week of room and board. He should’ve expected a good amount of blood to spurt from the thing’s neck and stood to the side, but live and learn… More dangerous for Dorothy, the blood carried a scant trace of the fruit’s addictive properties.

  “Are you sure you’re going to listen now?” Tin growled at Dorothy. “Because it will make saving you repeatedly a real hassle if you don’t have any coin.”

  Dorothy shook in his grip, undoubtedly from the shock settling in, mixed with fury. “You’d charge me to save my life?”

  “I charge per kill.” It was double the price if a client charged headfirst into trouble and made things more difficult. Tin released her to settle his bloody axe back on his hip. They would stop at the first body of water to wash off the weapon and their filth before the scent attracted fae beasts. “Since you didn’t know that, and given our history, there’s no charge for this one.”

  She had to be delivered to Lion and Langwidere alive for him to cash in—a payment he deserved ten times over already—but Dorothy didn’t need to know that. A good dose of fear had the potential to keep her in line.

  When Dorothy simply stood there, staring at the decapitated body, Tin scraped moss off a nearby tree. “Here. Use this before any of the blood gets in your mouth.”