Warped (17 page)

“Return the threads,” said one of them in a horrible deep voice. It sounded like something heavy rolling in the bottom of an oil drum. Tessa thought it was the ghostly shroud on the end who spoke, who stood taller than the other two.

“What?” she said faintly.

“Did you not receive our first message?” the resonant voice demanded. “Return the threads.”

“Message?” Tessa repeated. “That was you?”

The voice boomed again, “Return the threads!” and the mirror rattled against the bathroom door with the reverberations.

“I—I don’t have any thread,” Tessa managed to stammer. “Not anymore, I mean.”

“Treachery!” screeched the first cloaked figure. She raised a long, trembling finger and pointed it at Tessa. “Who has taught you the weaving of Wyrd?”

Tessa cringed as the skinny digit appeared to come out of the mirror to jab at her. “I don’t know anything about weaving,” Tessa squeaked. She clutched her robe tighter. “Or weird,” she added, repeating the word the creature had used. “I mean,
this
is weird. Of course. But I don’t weave. I can barely make a braid. Ask anybody. I pulled on one of the threads from the tapestry and Will came out and—”

“Silence!”

Okay, stop babbling to the angry ladies
. Though it was hard to imagine the spectral forms as female, they’d called themselves sisters.

“Alive?” said the deep-voiced one. She raised an enormous pair of scissors in her large, corpse-white hand.

An unpleasant tickle went down Tessa’s spine as she stared at the blades. “Huh?” She just couldn’t seem to keep up with the conversation.

“The boy. The thread,” the dark form in the mirror said tersely. “You said he came out of a tapestry. He came out
alive?
”

“Yes.”

“Liar!” The huge cloaked figure somehow made the word sound like a curse. “That’s impossible.”

“Well, you might want to check on that,” said Tessa. Her throat felt dry as chalk, but a little nip of anger strengthened her voice. She wasn’t a liar. “I was there. It happened.”

Gravel Voice, who, Tessa thought, seemed to be the leader, turned to the others. “I told you. The loss of the threads has created a hole in the Wyrd. She’s fashioned a portal, or perhaps another dimension, with this
tapestry
, as she calls it. Who is to say he couldn’t pass through?” The others nodded.

“Who are you?” Tessa asked again. She pushed back her damp hair. The air in the bathroom had cooled and the strands felt like cold, wet fingers against her neck.

“We are the Norn, as you know very well, mortal,” said Gravel Voice, “since you have been meddling in our realm.” She pointed to the smallest of the three, the one with the twitchy fingers. “This is Spyn,” she said. “And this is Weavyr.” She indicated the hooded figure with the dark hands that stood quietly in the middle. “And I am called Scytha.” With this she raised the long-bladed scissors. A sharp white light shot from the blades and lanced out of the mirror like a laser beam. Tessa jerked her eyes away and raised an arm to shield herself. For a moment the bathroom was lit up like a stage with the white-hot glow. “You know the power we hold,” thundered Scytha. “Give back the life threads you have stolen or we will wield that power. Your world will be torn apart.”

Slowly the painful sensations of light and heat faded. Tessa took a deep breath and lowered her arm.

“Look,” Tessa said, her voice shaking, “Norn ladies. I didn’t steal anything. I swear.”

“Return what was stolen, mortal,” said Scytha. “You have meddled in works that you cannot comprehend. Seven threads. Seven lives. The loss of them has caused a rift in the Wyrd. For five hundred years we have searched for what was stolen. Now you have revealed yourself to us. You will not escape.”

“I don’t know how this happened, but—” Tessa broke off. She swallowed and straightened. “I didn’t steal anything,” she repeated. “And Will’s not a thread. He’s a person. He’s not going back.”

There was silence as the dark, cloaked beings in the mirror seemed to take this in.

“This is your decision?” Scytha asked. “To defy us?”

“Y-yes,” Tessa stammered, lifting her chin and stepping back from the mirror.

“It is a foolish one.”

The Norn wavered, and disappeared.

Chapter 25

Y
ou know your life is completely screwed up when you have to look up the mythological figures who talk to you in the bathroom mirror.

“These women,” Tessa told Opal as they sat on the front stoop of the bookstore the next morning. “They called themselves the Norn. They’re the Fates who spin and weave and cut the threads of life.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. Way.” Tessa bent her legs, resting her arms and her head on her knees. “I Googled them.

“When Gray Lily stole threads of life, it kind of messed up the scheme of things. The Norn have been looking for the stolen threads ever since. They think
I’m
her. I mean, the one who stole the threads.”

After her confrontation with the Norn, Tessa had hardly slept, remembering the three ghostly figures in the mirror. She had stayed awake, expecting an eerie blue glow to creep into her bedroom mirror somehow, even though she’d kept the lights on. She’d also plugged in her old butterfly night-light as well as a Lava lamp, just in case.

“The Fates. The real Fates,” Opal repeated. She poked Tessa in the arm to get her attention. “So they could basically . . . ” She paused and made a quick slashing motion across her neck with one finger.

“Um. I guess so.” Tessa frowned, remembering the scissors and the searing light. “Thanks for the visual.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Opal said. “I mean, I’m sure they wouldn’t do anything hasty. I mean, maybe they’d have to okay it with somebody first before they . . . ” She glanced skyward. “Maybe fill out a form or something?”

“It’s kind of strange,” Tessa said thoughtfully. “All these so-called myths and fables. Everyone seems to have the same ones. They cross cultures and continents. Everyone has their own versions of unicorns, witches, even the Fates. Now we know why. Because they’re real.”

Opal nodded. “Makes sense, I guess. Maybe in the olden days people even told those creepy fairy tales to kids for a reason. Maybe there really
were
trolls under all the bridges. Yikes.”

They were both silent. Tessa took a deep breath. “I am so scared,” she said finally. “What am I going to do?”

Opal’s small face pinched up as she concentrated. She tapped one high-heeled boot on the pavement in a staccato rhythm. “What about getting someone to do an exorcism or calling one of those ghost hunter teams from television?” she offered.

Tessa shook her head. “I think this is bigger than anything they could handle. These things aren’t ghosts. Somehow they exist right now—just not in a place we can see.”

Opal nodded. “Maybe you just have to play along. Give the Norn ladies what they want.”

“I
can’t,
” Tessa said. “That’s the problem. They want the thread. And by that they mean Will. I wouldn’t give him to those creepy women even if I knew how.”

Opal smiled and said something under her breath.

“What did you say?” Tessa asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I said you’re smitten.”

“Oh, come on,” Tessa said with a roll of her eyes, then glanced back and said hesitantly, “Really obvious, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Opal, eyeing her. “He smit you good.”

Tessa sighed and shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t even matter, because this is all some kind of crazy, impossible
thing
that I don’t even understand.”

“Uh-huh.” Opal grinned like a maniac and bobbled her head. “Smitten with the esquire.”

“Okay.” Tessa held up a hand. “Change of subject. Please? Like if the Norn are so in charge, how did Gray Lily manage to steal Will’s thread in the first place?” She stopped, recalling the words of the Norn. “Actually,” she said slowly, “they said
threads
, plural.” Tessa frowned. “I didn’t really think about that before. They’re kind of intimidating. It was hard to focus. What are you doing?”

Opal was busy fiddling with something. She turned and slipped the pig bracelet onto Tessa’s wrist. “Here,” she said, pulling the drawstrings closed. “I don’t know how all this is going to end up, but you will definitely need the power of the pig.”

Tessa smiled and fingered the simple adornment. It wasn’t much to look at. The worn black fibers were frayed here and there, and a couple of the smaller beads were missing. But the chubby jade pig still had that dopey smile on his face. Or his snout, rather. Whatever it was, it felt comforting to have him back.

Opal rocked sideways to nudge Tessa’s shoulder with her own. “I’ll bet you think of something.” She nodded knowingly. “You’re tougher than you look, girlfriend.”

Tessa grinned. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not much of a compliment,” said Opal with a hint of a smile. “You look pretty wimpy.”

“Ha-ha. Come on.” Tessa stood with a sigh and picked up a small canvas tote. It was bulging with food and books she’d packed for Will. Her cooking skills were pretty much nonexistent, but that morning she’d sliced bagels and smeared them with cream cheese, steeped three bags of Earl Grey tea in a thermos and tucked it all inside, along with a couple of apples.

Tessa slipped the bag absently over her shoulder, remembering Opal’s comment about Will. Maybe she did . . . like him.

Who was she kidding? She could barely think of anything but him. It was as if Will de Chaucy’s face, the sound of his voice, even the smell of him had been sizzled into her brain with a hot cattle brand.

It was early, and the Closed sign hung in the bookstore window. Her father was still upstairs. What he didn’t know, Tessa decided, wouldn’t hurt him. “Okay,” she said to Opal. “Let’s go get Prince Charming.”

They were about to enter the alley to go to the back entrance when Tessa glanced to the side, squinting against the brightness of the morning sunlight. She glimpsed a large black sedan parked near the corner. New York plates. She wasn’t sure what drew her eye to the car, but as her gaze lingered, the dark outline of the driver inside shifted, crouching lower in the seat. Tessa veered, immediately changing direction. She put her head down as she hissed.

“That’s him. Don’t look.”

“Who?” Opal asked. “Will?” She craned her neck to search the street.

“No! Quit looking! It’s the lawyer. Moncrieff. I’m pretty sure it’s him in a car behind us. He’s watching us.” She could almost feel the gaze of those two droopy blue eyes boring into her back.

“Jeez.” Opal quickened her pace next to Tessa. “She sent the lawyer after you? Since when do evil witches sue?”

“He’s kind of a henchman,” puffed Tessa, striding down the narrow sidewalk. “In pinstripes.”

“What do we do?” Opal asked. “Try to lose him?”

“Just keep walking.”

As they reached the corner, Tessa shot a look back down the narrow street. The black car pulled away from the curb. It was following them.

“Come on!” Tessa sprang into a run as soon as they turned the corner. Opal gave a yelp and followed. Despite the weight of the tote bag, Tessa dug in, relishing the feel of her strong legs and the sight of the pavement flying away behind her. But after a few moments she jerked to a stop. Opal was lagging behind. The black car had turned the corner and Tessa saw Moncrieff at the wheel, his face looking grim as he drew closer. But he was a few cars back and the line of traffic was crawling, stuck behind a city bus that had lurched to a halt to let someone off.

“Hello?” Opal gasped, coming up beside her. “Heels, here.”

Tessa muttered something nasty about fashion statements while she swiveled to look around. “This way.” She and Opal dashed in front of the bus to cross the road, and a little farther down they turned onto the next side street. Tessa slowed her steps and threw a glance back.

At the end of the street the black sedan slowed . . . and passed by.

Tessa grinned at Opal. “One-way.”

Opal looked back in surprise. “Huh. That never stops them in the movies.”

“Yeah,” Tessa agreed. “But somehow I don’t think this guy wants much attention. Listen, just keep going, okay? I’m going back before he has a chance to loop around.”

“You sure?”

“I need to make sure Will’s okay and tell him what’s happened.”

“Okay,” Opal grumbled. “But be careful.”

“I will.” Tessa turned and began to run back the way they’d come.

“And you know all this faithful sidekick stuff?” Opal yelled after her. “It’s really not my style.”

Tessa slowed and spun around. “I know,” she answered, walking backward a few steps. “How about kick-ass best friend?”

Opal’s grin flashed. “Now you’re talkin’.”

Chapter 26

“R
eturn the threads?” Will repeated after Tessa had told him about her encounter with the Norn. “I don’t understand. Why would they appear to you? And in a looking glass, no less.”

Tessa shrugged. “I don’t know. They said that there are threads missing, more than just yours.
Seven threads. Seven lives
. Somehow they knew, or sensed, when I pulled the thread and released you from the tapestry. I guess they think I’m some kind of weaving mastermind. I tried to tell them it was Gray Lily, but they were . . . ” She hesitated. “Kind of snippy.”

“There
are
others, then,” Will said, pacing. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a simple white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his tanned forearms. His hair fell in slightly messy waves to his collar, and there was a faint stubble over his jaw. “And these stolen threads must be in the tapestry still.”

“I guess so,” Tessa said. “And the Norn want them back. Like, yesterday.”

Will was watching her. “You say that you saw Moncrieff, this legal agent of Gray Lily’s, outside your home?” His jaw tightened. “He followed you?”

“Yes. But I lost him. He doesn’t know you’re here.”

“What will you do now?”

Tessa was baffled by his question. “Do?” she repeated. “What
can
I do?”