Warped (13 page)

All at once the lawyer’s face contorted. His neck bulged. His pale blue eyes looked huge and glassy, like marbles, as he glared back at Tessa. “You—you have no idea what she’ll do.” A stream of saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

“Now, look here—” Jackson said, frowning. His expression turned to alarm. “Hey, Mr. Moncrieff. Are you okay?”

Moncrieff backed away, snatching a handkerchief from his suit coat pocket to mop his mouth. He made a sickening retching sound and held the cloth tight over his face. He pointed a jabbing finger at Tessa, then he clutched his briefcase and staggered out of the store.

Chapter 19

T
essa sat crossed-legged on her bed, holding her cell. With her free hand she pulled at the white, frayed edge around the hole in the knee of her jeans. “Thanks for taking those books home with you,” she said.

“No problem,” answered Opal. “What’s a little grand larceny between friends? At least, I hope it was grand. I wouldn’t want to do petty. Sounds, you know . . . cheap.”

“It was the only thing I could think of,” Tessa replied with a sigh, thinking of her early-morning dash outside to break the window, undo the lock and open the casing. Opal had waited inside to hand things through. They had grabbed a few books from various display cases. Then the two of them had snuck them out to Opal’s car in the darkness. But the tapestry and the
Texo Vita
Tessa had kept. She’d wrapped them together in a bundle and stuffed them under her bed.

“Have the police gone?”

“Just now. The officer interviewed us and looked around, especially on the floor near the broken window and the front door. He said he was surprised we hadn’t had trouble before, not having a security system.” She didn’t think her father suspected anything. “I’ll return everything to the store once this mess is all straightened out.”

Tessa thought how ridiculous that sounded. Straightened out. Like this was some kind of mix-up at the dry cleaner’s.
Yes, ma’am, we seem to have delivered your flying carpet to the wrong customer. You can have fifty percent off your next order
.

And she hated lying to her father. But somehow she felt that the less he knew about Gray Lily, the tapestry and Will, the safer he would be.

Tessa said good-bye to Opal, closed the phone and turned it beneath her fingers thoughtfully, all the while looking at Will de Chaucy from under her lashes.

He stood by her window, watching the movement of cars and pedestrians below, his strong profile backlit by the warm afternoon sun. He’d spent most of the morning poring over her books, expressing disbelief that anyone could have so many. Tessa wished she could bring him downstairs to show him the store, but there was no way. Not while her father was there.

He was wearing a pair of her father’s old dress pants, a faded
OLD PORT DAYS 5K
commemorative T-shirt and Nikes. It was all she could muster from the back of her father’s closet that she felt sure he wouldn’t miss. Or probably even recognize. The pants were too big at the waist and hung low across Will’s lean hips. The worn cuffs cleared the top of his ankles by two inches. The wrinkled T-shirt was white turned pale pink as a result of an unfortunate washing incident and had a goofy-looking pirate jogging across the front. It was the most ridiculous outfit she had ever seen. He looked completely amazing.

Tessa frowned, considering Will’s tall, athletic build, the contours of muscled shoulders and biceps beneath the thin cotton fabric as he leaned against the window frame. It probably wouldn’t matter
what
he wore. It was as if he were made of something different from ordinary flesh and blood, something finer.

“You’re a very surprising person, Mistress Brody,” Will said, turning as if he had been contemplating her and not the traffic outside.

She looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed her doing whatever it was she’d been doing. “Huh?”

“It was a clever ruse, and a daring one,” Will remarked. “But did Gray Lily’s emissary believe you?”

“His name was Moncrieff,” Tessa said slowly. She thought about the way the man’s pale blue eyes had stared at her. “No, I don’t think he believed me.” She gave a shrug. “Would you?” she added, turning back to Will.

“Believe you?” Will considered this. “I would want to believe you,” he said softly. He folded his arms and looked outside. “But no. I wouldn’t.”

There it was again. Why did she get the feeling she was talking about one thing and he was talking about something totally different?

“They’ll be back,” he said over his shoulder. “Gray Lily will come.”

“But what can she do?” Tessa argued. “If you’re here with me, and my dad? In broad daylight? In the middle of Portland?”

“I confess I have seen but a small demonstration,” Will said dryly, “but I would imagine she can do quite a lot. Anywhere.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do?”

He turned around. “Ah. I had hoped you would ask. What I would like is . . . a walk. Down there.” He nodded toward the street. “The sea is nearby, I can smell it.”

Tessa looked at him. “A walk,” she repeated. She’d wanted suggestions as to “What are we going to do about this weird time-traveling-witch-stealing-your-life thing?” Not a social agenda. He was full of surprises. If she had suddenly been thrown into another time and had some kind of evil witch on her tail, she wasn’t sure a leisurely stroll would be on the top of her to-do list. She shrugged. Well, maybe it would.

“Okay. But first we’ve got to get you some other clothes,” Tessa said firmly. “It will help make you less conspicuous. You know. Blend in.”

“Really?” said Will. He looked down at himself in mild surprise. He shrugged. “Very well. You have a tailor who will attend me?”

Tessa raised an eyebrow.
Welcome to William de Chaucy
, she thought.
Center of the Universe
. She fluttered her lashes and stepped forward to curtsy. “No, Your Highness. I’m afraid we shall have to behoove ourselves down to Ye Olde Goodwill and buy some secondhand attire, like the other peasants.”

There was a pause. Tessa peeked up to see Will looking down at her. He turned away and said quietly, “It’s ungracious of you to mock me, Tessa, as I am a stranger, and unaccustomed to your ways. I’m far from my home, my time. Nothing is as I knew it.”

Tessa straightened awkwardly and reddened.
Ungracious
. The word stung.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.
Ungracious
. It was exactly the right word for her. Lacking grace, social or otherwise. “You’re right.” She looked away. Anywhere but at him. “I wasn’t thinking about how strange all this must be for you. I’ll try to remember. And I won’t call you Your Highness anymore,” she added.

“Actually, that I don’t mind.”

Tessa glanced to see Will’s expression. His lips curved up on one side and his eyes were alight with something devilish. He was laughing.

“You—you—” Tessa lunged forward, half furious, half relieved and half something else so fluorescently impossible she didn’t want to think about it. She reached out to give him a playful shove but found herself unbalanced when he twisted away.

Will caught her by the shoulders, holding her close. “I don’t believe I have thanked you yet, for helping me,” he said in a low voice.

For a moment Tessa felt as if she were teetering on the edge of something more than just gravity. She didn’t feel herself let go, but she must have; she felt herself supported by strong arms. So why did she still feel as if she were falling?

Will smiled at her and Tessa let herself do what she had been trying not to do: she let her eyes meet his. Head-on. She felt held there for a moment. Caught in a warm, golden trap.

Then something changed as Will stared at her. His look became more intent and his smile faded. She became aware that he was holding something back, something barely restrained behind the careful manners.

“Why did you do it?” he demanded.

“Wh-what?” Tessa righted herself. But he still held her.

“You heard the question, Mistress Brody.
Why?
”

Tessa squirmed. “Let me go. I can’t breathe.”

Will released her and she straightened. “There is no
why,
” she said. “I just pulled a thread. I didn’t know what would happen.”

Will de Chaucy stared at her for a moment, and then, in a return to the cool, formal manner she was becoming used to, said, “I thank you, mistress.”

Was it her imagination or was there a tinge of acid in his tone? “You’re welcome,” Tessa returned uncertainly. She straightened her shirt over her jeans. “So let’s take a walk,” she said in an uncomfortably bright voice. Practically a chirp. She slipped past Will, grabbed her purse and made herself take a deep breath.
Get a grip, Tessa
, she told herself.

She didn’t even look at him when she piped up again, “Let’s go. We’ll use the back staircase so we don’t have to go through the store.” Friendly, but cool.

“Lead on,” he said softly as he followed her.

Moncrieff’s face was a dusky blue. He stumbled through the open passenger door, collapsing onto the backseat of the limousine that idled outside the bookstore. Foamy spittle dripped down his front and darkened his shirt as he clawed to loosen his tie and collar.

After a moment the other occupant sitting in the shadows of the passenger compartment spoke. “You failed me,” she said. Gray Lily faced Moncrieff, regarding his spasms of distress with detachment. She tapped her shriveled fingers against the security glass twice, signaling the driver to proceed. She glanced at Moncrieff as the limo pulled away from the curb. “You didn’t get my tapestry,” she rasped. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t get it.”

Moncrieff’s blue eyes bulged from his head. He clutched his throat. “Glghhh.”

Gray Lily pursed her wrinkled lips and narrowed her small black eyes. “I’m sorry.” She leaned forward and cocked her head. “Could you speak up? Oh, I guess not.”

Moncrieff’s limbs twitched and his eyes rolled wildly. With a jerk his two hands shot forward, as though he were reaching for Gray Lily, to strike or throttle her. But he slapped his palms together and held them, trembling, in silent supplication.

“Very well,” Gray Lily said with a sniff. She plucked at the piece of black thread she held in her lap with her knobby fingers.

Moncrieff collapsed backward, heaving in gasps of air. He twisted to look at her. “Ms. Gerome?” he wheezed.

“Oh. Of course,” she commented, looking down at herself. “You haven’t seen this.” She waved a hand to indicate her shrunken, elderly form. “I had a setback.”

Gray Lily reached toward Moncrieff. He shrank back, but she only patted his knee. “I’m sorry I had to do that,” she said. Her expression might have been that of a teacher who had just reprimanded a child. “Really, I am. But sometimes, Moncrieff, I just don’t think that I’m getting through to you. You see, the book and the tapestry mean the world to me.” She frowned faintly and her lined face seemed to fold in upon itself. “Consider it a matter of life and death,” she said. “Yours.” She tilted her head. “We understand each other now. Don’t we?”

The man lay huddled in the far corner of the seat. Tears streamed down his face. He gave a jerking nod.

Gray Lily sighed. She took a square of white silk from her purse and tossed it at him. “Here. Clean yourself up,” she told him. “Then tell me everything.”

Chapter 20

W
ill set down the bag of clothes they’d bought from the thrift shop and stepped into the road. Now dressed in faded jeans, sneakers and a black T-shirt, Will could have passed for any modern-day teenage guy. Except for one thing. He stood in the center of Wharf Street, staring at the length of paved tar with a line in the middle as if it were a piece of abstract art. He crouched and touched his palm to the blacktopped surface.

“It’s warm,” he murmured. His expression, as he examined it, was one of startled delight. “Who made this, Tessa?”

Tessa was on the sidewalk, trying to look nonchalant as passersby eyed the strange young man in the road. “Um, I’m not sure,” she answered. “The city, I guess. The government?” She hoped he didn’t lie down and listen for buffalo.

“It is beautiful,” Will said. “So smooth. No ruts. No mud. Verily, coach wheels must fly on such a surface.” He straightened up and smiled over at her. “This world is remarkable. I feel as though I am in a dream that goes on and on. Nothing is real.” He hesitated. “Except—”

“Car!” Tessa yelled, and dashed forward to yank him back to the curb. A Subaru wagon drove by. Slowly.

“I guess it wasn’t that close,” Tessa said. She released her clutch on his elbow. “Nothing is real except . . . what?” she prompted. But Will de Chaucy was off again, walking away, like a kid at an amusement park.

He peered into shop windows, looked up into the sky to see a plane passing overhead, headed down the recessed steps of a tattoo parlor and squinted into a grate in the sidewalk. Tessa followed along, watching. Apparently he had to touch everything, she noted with a smile. And everything seemed wonderful to him. Not only was a paved road “beautiful,” but garbage cans were “ingenious.” Bicycles were “astounding.” Streetlights? Forget about it. And they weren’t even lit yet.

Confusing questions came up that Tessa would never have expected, leading to weird conversations. For instance, how the Time and Temperature Building didn’t actually
control
those things.

They came to the waterfront. The dark water murmured beneath the creaking pier, and hungry gulls wheeled and
scree
-ed overhead. The air smelled of fish and diesel fumes, while chugging ship motors made a constant drone in the background. Will cast an appreciative glance at some older fishing boats rocking against the dock. “I’m delighted to see that wood still floats upon water,” he said solemnly.

Tessa’s answering smile faded at the fast-food wrappers and Styrofoam debris in the water below them. “There’s a lot of pollution in it, though.” She leaned on the railing and let her eyes trace the horizon, over the familiar ragged outline of Diamond Island and the faraway blink of the East End Harbor light. “People have really messed up the world,” she said. “It must be a lot cleaner where you come from. Unspoiled.”