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A rush of air hisses through his teeth as he lurches, wide-eyed.

“Hi,” I say.

His gaze lifts to mine. His eyes are bloodshot, but there’s awareness there. “Dorothy.” He scrubs at his face, the scruff rasping beneath the metal of his mechanical hand. “You’re awake. You should be dead, you know.”

“I could say the same about you.” I glance over my shoulder at the pool of blood. “I’m not sure how either of us survived this. Are we in hell?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a bad place where bad things happen.”

“Then yes.”

“I thought so.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, smacks his lips. “I need a drink.”

“Where would I find water here?”

He snorts. “You won’t. Unless you’re making it?”

“I can’t make water.”

“Oh right. Of course.” I hear the sarcasm in his voice.

Even as I argued his joke, I knew it was a lie. Water literally ran from my fingertips. And that’s how I killed the witch.

But I’m not ready to face the fact that I might have magic.

I think it’s already clear that I’m not originally from Kansas, but the alternative to that is too terrifying to comprehend yet, so I plan on not comprehending it.

I need to compartmentalize if I want to move forward and keep the panic at bay.

“There should be some ozrum in that cabinet.” The Tinman gestures in the direction behind me.

“You want a drink? Right now?”

He grabs the syringe, the glass barrel ringing out against the metal of his hand. “Is there a better time?” He replaces the needle in his tin box and clamps the lid shut with a snap.

“For you? I’m guessing now is always the right time.”

“You’re catching on.”

As I go to the dark wood cabinet across the room, the Tinman slowly rises to his feet and drops himself into one of the ornate chairs.

Inside the cabinet, I find a collection of bottles. There’s a short green bottle and a tall skinny bottle and just behind it, a large amber bottle marked OZRUM in a looping script.

Goblets and crystal wineglasses and tumblers are lined up on the second shelf. I pour the Tinman a half glass and at the last second, decide I deserve one too.

I was just stabbed by a man I fucked in an underground tunnel while running from the heartless Tinman. And now, after surviving the stabbing, I’m stuck in a witch’s castle with the very same heartless man and his potentially magical axe.

What was it Gabriel said?

The axe is made by magic. It belongs to him. No one can take it without his permission.

Except I touched it. I took it.

Why was I able to?