Page 1

Prologue - Toto

Ten Years Ago

Emerald City Preparatory - Senior Year

"Somebody's feeling bold today, I see."

Griselda Westing’s sickly-sweet voice startles me, and I almost choke on my tater tots. I lift my head warily, my stomach twisting into a knot.

Griselda's long auburn hair is shiny and perfect. Her skin looks like glass, and her high cheekbones give her a regal air far beyond her eighteen years. She blinks her long eyelashes and smiles, revealing straight, white teeth that could be the after-photo for Boncharme Enchanted whitening products. To anybody out of earshot, it would look like she was having a friendly conversation, but up close, her smile doesn't reach her eyes.

She tilts her head with cold detachment, like she's studying a bug. That alone is disconcerting enough, but my blood runs cold when a second voice joins the mix.

Griselda is not alone.

"The little mutt wants to play."

I whip my head to my right, shuddering involuntarily when I see Vera Eastwood's green eyes glittering with depraved glee. Her long black hair curls out at the ends like snakes lying in wait. She’s so pale that her skin is practically iridescent, little green and blue veins creating an odd map across it. Her lips are pulled into a permanent sneer, and one hand toys absently with the green stone hanging from a delicate gold chain around her neck. She’s always fidgeting with the damn thing. It’s as hideous as her soul.

Individually, they’re bad enough. Together, they’re the stuff of nightmares.

Griselda may be a poisoned apple wrapped in a beautiful candy glaze, but Vera is rotten and wicked to the depths of her cold, dark core.

It's our senior year, and I purposely switched my lunch period so I could avoid them both.

"She's eating lunch." Dottie, my best friend, places her tray firmly on the table in front of me and squares off against the mean girls, whom she has aptly nicknamed the Wicked Witches of Oz.

Griselda narrows her eyes.

Vera grins, baring sharp, shark-like teeth as she homes in on her prey. Truthfully, everyone in the school is afraid of Vera. It's the only reason she gets to be part of the elite group. That, and the fact that she's an incredibly powerful witch. Rumor has it that her family comes from a long line of dark wizardry. She lives in a huge castle on the border of the Munchkin and Gillikin districts, at the mouth of the dark woods.

I don't know anything else about her except that she’s mean and manipulative.

Griselda crosses her slender arms and smirks at Dottie. "Doesn't look like either of you have ever missed a meal, Dorothy."

I gulp, turning my head to gaze up at my friend, expecting her to be wounded by Griselda's comment.

Dottie props a hand on one unapologetically curvy hip and gives the two shrews a once over. "You should try it sometime. You both look a little malnourished." Her gaze drifts pointedly over their faces. “Might help with the wrinkles too.”

"Vapid farm girl," Vera spits, her expression morphing into pure hatred. Then she laughs maniacally, which is somehow far more terrifying. "So brave because you think your three big brothers will protect you."

Dottie stands her ground, narrowing her eyes at Vera.

I'm in awe of my friend. I’ve spent my whole life as one of the few mortal humans in all of Oz, a land where Munchkins, Winkies, Quadlings, and wizards live in relative harmony. Growing up on the outskirts of Fable Forest, I never felt unwelcome or out of place.

Just painfully ordinary.

I thought I was the luckiest person alive when I landed a scholarship at Emerald City Prep. Then I met Vera and Griselda, who marked me as their chosen chew toy, and I discovered that not all magical beings were friendly.

Thankfully, it's my fourth and final year with them. If I'd known spending every day surrounded by wizards and witches would make my life a living hell, I never would have accepted the offer. But my grandparents, who raised me, were so proud. I couldn't disappoint them.

Only a few more months, and then I can keep my distance.

"Oh, look at the mortal." Griselda pouts at Dottie like she's talking to a baby. All traces of mockery vanish as she leans closer and asks in a sinister voice, "How exactly do you plan to stop us?"

Vera cackles with psychotic glee as she launches a tater tot at Dottie. "This is our table, and your little lap dog knows it."

I’m halfway to my feet, grabbing my tray, when Dottie places a hand on my shoulder and stops me in my tracks.