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A trill of laughter sounds in the street and we lurch apart.

Two women amble past, gossiping about someone they’ve just seen.

The spell is broken. Tin’s expression has changed to focused determination.

“Come on. The coast is clear and we have no more time to waste.”

TWELVEDorothy

We have to dodge several more people on our way to Henrietta’s, but we manage to arrive without being spotted or stabbed, so I really do think we’re ahead of the game.

The shop door is unlocked, the OPEN sign hung in the window.

We step in, the bell chiming above us.

It didn’t cross my mind until now that it’s possible Henrietta will also see dollar signs when she sees me, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. If she has any additional information or insight, I need to have it.

Also, I need to tell her how wrong she was about Rook and me.

A dissenting voice in the back of my mind asks, If she was so wrong the first time, then why are you here a second time?

Either I do believe her or I’m desperate.

After several minutes, I tap the bell on the counter. The chime rings out. We wait longer.

Tin circles the shop, looking over the trinkets, good luck charms, and fortune decks. The expression on his face is one of derision.

“What’s that look for?” I ask him, keeping my voice low just in case Henrietta is nearby. I don’t want to offend her.

“People want control over the uncontrollable. It’s pathetic.”

“There is magic everywhere in Oz. Is it so far-fetched to believe in good luck charms?”

He glances up at me. Diffused light from a nearby lamp outlines him in gold. He looks out of place in the fortune teller’s shop. Like a rogue wolf that has wandered in from the dark forest.

Now that I know he and Rook are brothers, I can see some of the similarities. They have the same sharp jaw, and similar noses with a narrow bridge and flared nostrils.

The same perfect lips.

“Is it so wrong for people to want to find comfort during hard times?” I challenge, because I need to distract myself with anything other than the Tinman’s mouth.

“Is it wrong? No. Is it pathetic? Yes.”

“You are cruel.”

“I am heartless. There is a difference.”

I ring the bell again. “Henrietta? It’s Dorothy.”

The place is silent.

Impatience gets the better of me and I push aside the gauzy curtain that separates the front of the shop from Henrietta’s reading room. But when I turn the corner, a warbled yelp lurches out of me.

Tin runs to my side.

Henrietta is sitting at her reading table, her head flung back, her eyes wide open, mouth slightly ajar. All the color has been drained from her face.

Tin steps around me and checks her for a pulse even though I know he’ll find none and I’m pretty sure he knows it too.