Warped (24 page)

“That’s not true,” Tessa said. “People make choices.”

“No. The Fates decide,” said Gray Lily. “Tessa Brody,” she went on, “do you want your life back?”

“Yes,” whispered Tessa, staring into the hard black eyes. “That’s why I have to return the threads you stole to the Norn. They’ve made my father sick. And changed my friend Opal. Everything is . . . wrong.”

Gray Lily let out a bark of laughter. “So that’s it. You’ve become an errand girl for the Norn.” She sat down in a chair and leaned back, then pushed her high heels from bunion-knotted feet. “Their threats don’t frighten me.”

“And why should they?” Tessa said angrily. “It’s not
your
life they’re destroying. And it’s not a threat. My father is dying.” Her throat closed around the last word, as if her vocal cords would refuse to produce it. He was
dying
.

“Everyone dies, child. Except me, of course.” Gray Lily slitted her eyes to watch Tessa and smiled. “It’s interesting. No, ironic, really, that it’s you again after all these years. I don’t like irony.”

Tessa frowned. “Me again?” She repeated. Something lurched inside her.

Gray Lily sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve had past lives, dearie. You think a thread is cut and that’s the end? No. They weave you again. Twist you. Do whatever they wish with you. Again and again. You used to be a little slip of a thing with dirty skirts and a willful tongue.” She slid a glance over Tessa. “Not much has changed.”

“The hunt,” whispered Tessa. “I remember the hunt.” The visions were real, then. She
had
been there in the wood when Will was captured. That was why she felt such a connection to him. The thought made her light-headed.
The virgin in his haunts
.

“Yes,” said Gray Lily. “I tried to get your thread that day as well, but you ran like a rabbit. And now here you are. Not only did you somehow release my unicorn, but now the Norn use you to get my threads. That’s irony for you,” she muttered. “Biting me in the ass.”

“They’re not
your
threads,” said Tessa, flashing her eyes to the old woman. “They are people’s lives. And I will get them.”

Gray Lily shook her head. “No, child. You’ll just die. And the Norn? They are beyond any pity or compassion. They won’t give your old life back to you. Nor those of your loved ones.” She cocked her head in a considering attitude. “But I can.”

Tessa didn’t want to dwell on how confidently Gray Lily had just informed her of her impending death. “How?” she demanded.

“You must help me capture de Chaucy again. I would have my unicorn back.”

“No!” Tessa said in a disgusted, angry voice. “He’s a human being. Do you really think I would help you do that to him?” Tessa glanced at the dark tapestry and bit at her lip, wondering where on earth Will was, if he was okay. If he was alive.

“He is whatever I make him,” said Gray Lily with an impatient flip of her hand. “And as the unicorn he is more glorious than any frail, pathetic man could ever be. With my unicorn fixed once more in the tapestry, I will have Will de Chaucy’s youth, his strength, forever.” She looked at her own wrinkled hands. “I want those things. I can’t last like this much longer.”

“I won’t do it,” said Tessa.

“Then your father will die.” Gray Lily yawned. Tessa glimpsed the black mouth and shivered. “I know the ways of the Norn. It will be slow and painful for him. And then you’ll be all alone.”

Tessa twisted away from the old woman’s gaze. She felt trapped and confused. The tapestry lay before her and she stared at it, mesmerized by the mysterious depths. She reached out a hand and imagined she could feel the living threads beneath the surface.
Find the first. Return the seven
. The words echoed and spun in her ears. She blinked.

She thought she had spotted a silvery white thread.

“Will,” she said in a low cry. She felt dizzy. She swayed.

Her outstretched fingers were still poised near the surface when a dirty hand ripped through the tapestry. And grabbed her.

Chapter 37

T
essa screamed and tried to wrench free, but the strong fingers tightened on her wrist and dragged her down. Her hand disappeared into the dark threads.

Black fibers opened up, swallowing her like gnashing jaws. She heard a distant, startled screech from Gray Lily. Tessa twisted to look behind her, but a dark mesh was closing in, blocking the old woman’s face. The next moment Tessa felt a warm, rushing darkness sweep past her and, strangely,
through
her. She had the sensation of falling, twisting and turning, all the while feeling the indomitable grip of fingers clenched on her wrist. Feathery strands brushed her face and she became aware of colors, like shadowy fireworks, flying past in the dark.

Suddenly she barreled into brightness. There was a rustle and a sharp snap as Tessa tumbled through green, leafy branches. She broke through and landed on something with a thud. It wasn’t the ground.

“Oof!”

Tessa blinked. She raised her head. Will de Chaucy was lying beneath her, still holding her wrist. He looked astonished. And also slightly oxygen deprived. She rolled off his chest and he took a wheezing breath in.

“Tessa! Is it you?” He gripped her shoulders as if he thought she would disappear.

“Will,” she gasped, lying next to him. “Hi.” As she took in his lean, tanned face and the healing cut on his cheek, he smiled. She felt such a rush of relief and happiness, she simply let herself relax and burrowed her head closer to his broad chest.

“I can hardly believe—” he said. “I didn’t know what she would do.” He cupped her face in his hands, lifted it gently and met her lips with his. He broke away from her, but only to brace himself on one elbow. Pulling her closer, he pinioned her beneath him. “Tessa,” he whispered.

She pulled him down.

This time, the kiss was something different. She’d thought he was gone, that she’d never see him again. Now she could let go of the pain she’d tried to deny. He was here. He was real. A smothered cry came from deep inside her as Will kissed her. Her lips parted and there was nothing, nothing in the world, except him. She would never let go.

For a few breathless, blissful seconds Tessa forgot everything. But gradually she became aware of other sensations: the chill of the damp ground beneath her, torn leaves scratching her neck, the sounds of wind and distant thunder. And more importantly, what had happened. Her father.

“Will.” Tessa sat up. She looked around.

They were beneath a tree next to a small clearing in a forest. Dark clouds rolled past the treetops high overhead.

“We’re inside.” Tessa whispered. “We’re inside the tapestry, aren’t we?”

Will pushed himself up to sit next to her. “Yes.”

Tessa reached down to touch the grass. The cool, springy blades brushed her palm. She could smell the rich soil and even the dandelion that had been crushed beneath her elbow. A slight breeze lifted the ribbon in her hair to flutter against her cheek. Nearby, a looming shadow parted from the trees as a large horse drifted closer, calmly pulling up mouthfuls of grass and chewing. “But everything is real,” she said. It didn’t just
look
real. It
was
real. “How is this possible?”

“Real,” said Will, considering her question. “In a way, yes. Everything here has been placed here by Gray Lily. It is her creation.”

“It’s unbelievable,” Tessa whispered. Then, recalling what had just happened, she demanded, “But how did you bring me here?”

Will gave her a surprised look. He reached over and extracted a twig from her hair. “I did nothing,” he replied. “You fell out of a tree. On top of me,” he added ruefully, adjusting his neck with a twist.

Tessa looked down at his strong hands. She clasped one in her own. “No. I was in a hotel room. Gray Lily was there. Your hand reached through the tapestry.”

Will shook his head to contradict her. “No. I looked up and saw you in that linden tree. You called my name.”

Tessa put a hand to her forehead. “Yes,” she said softly. She had glimpsed a silvery thread, just like the one she had pulled from the tapestry. She
had
called Will’s name.

“I just reached up through the branches and took your wrist,” Will said.

“Okay. I don’t understand what just happened,” Tessa said with a return of her smile. “But I’m glad to see you. So glad.” She leaned into the crook of his shoulder and breathed in the warm, leathery smell of him.

“Do you believe now that our fates are entwined, Mistress Brody?” Tessa could hear the smile in his voice.

“I—I don’t know,” Tessa said uncertainly. She looked up and tried to return his smile.
Fate
. The word brought the frightening conversation with Gray Lily spiraling back to her. Not to mention the directions of the Norn.
Find the first. Return the seven
.

“Ah, yes. I forgot. You believe only in accidents,” Will said softly. “Like falling.” His face was still and watchful. His eyes traveled to her neck and he leaned closer, until his lips brushed the hollow of her throat. “I believe falling is considered a sort of accident.”

Tessa turned away slightly. She could feel her heart pounding. It felt like an impatient fist, pounding on a table for what it wanted. She finally knew what she wanted, with a sureness that ached. She wanted the impossible.

She looked around, trying to break the spell of Will’s nearness. She would have loved to just lie down in the safety of his arms and forget everything. But she needed to get her bearings. And figure out what to do.

“Is this place like your home?” she asked. “Like Hartescross?”

“Yes.” Will turned his gaze away from her and scanned the forest with an uncertain expression. “I mean to say—I’m not sure. The witch has made it appear so. It looks much like our northern woods, but I don’t recognize any of these paths. I’d been wandering for hours. Until I saw you.”

“Hours?” Tessa repeated, puzzled.

“Yes. But you are here now, and with me. It is all I need, mistress.” Will got up, brushed himself off and held out a hand to her. He hoisted her to her feet. “We should go. There’s a storm coming. It’s not wise to linger.”

“No.”

“What?” asked Will, looking at her with surprise.

“It hasn’t been hours,” Tessa replied. “It’s been two
days
since Gray Lily took you from the alley.” Time must be completely out of whack, she realized. Then, with the thought of time passing, Tessa felt a spasm of fear. She only had until the full moon. How much time did she have left?

“Will, I have to get home,” she said quickly. “My father—” She stopped and swallowed. She clasped her shaking hands together.

“What is it?” Will searched her face, putting an arm around her. “Tell me.”

She didn’t want to say the words. She still didn’t want to admit it could be real. But she had to. “My father is very sick,” she said slowly. “He’s dying.”

“Gray Lily?” Will asked.

“No,” Tessa answered. Panic swept over her. She had screwed everything up. Her conversation with Gray Lily had revealed nothing useful. She had no idea how to get the lost threads back. And now she was trapped in the tapestry herself. Trapped and useless—for who knew how long, maybe forever—while her father—

Tessa broke away from Will and spun, searching. Everywhere she looked, dense tangles of greenery blocked her view. All the lost threads must be here, somewhere. But first she had to find the key.

Think
.

“Will,” she said. She turned to him. “Remember when we read from the
Texo Vita
? In one of her entries, Gray Lily said something about a key. Do you know what she meant? Think back and try to remember, from the first time she stole your thread.”

“No,” Will replied with a shrug. “There was no key.”

“It might look like something different. Like a piece of wood.”

Will shook his head, with no flicker of recognition. “No. She did not carry such a thing.” His face stilled, became thoughtful. “But I do remember something from the first time. She had something in her hand.” He looked up. “A small yellow stone.”

“A stone,” Tessa repeated dubiously. She shut her eyes and tried to picture Gray Lily as she had seen her in the alley. She didn’t remember the old woman holding any stone when she pulled Will’s thread. And it didn’t fit at all with what the Norn had told her. How could a stone have anything to do with that tree Igdrazul, or whatever it was called? Could the Norn be wrong?

“Is this key the means by which we can escape the tapestry?” Will asked.

Tessa’s eyes flew open. “I—I think so,” she answered.

“I hope so.”

How could she tell him the rest? In order for her father to live, the stolen threads, including
his
thread, had to be returned to the Norn. There was no way she could explain it. She didn’t understand it herself. And she didn’t want to give him any more reasons to doubt her. She would find a way to fix this.

Tessa looked around. “I’m sure Gray Lily will be coming after us. After you. She wants to turn you back into the unicorn.”

Will’s eyes darkened. “Of course. That’s the only way she can get her youth back.” He glanced up at the sky and frowned. “We’d best leave this place. Everything seems different. There was never a storm here before. It bodes ill.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Tessa remarked. “My whole life kind of bodes ill lately.”

Will picked up the horse’s reins, which were trailing in the long grass. The horse was beautiful, with a strong neck and heavy build. He had a black silken mane and black tufts on his hooves. His huge, liquid eyes were fringed with feather-duster lashes. “He’s beautiful.” Tessa reached up to touch his neck. Real flesh, hair. “I never saw
him
in the tapestry. Is the horse a thread too? A person?”

“No.” Will smiled. “This is my horse, Hannibal.” He glanced at their surroundings. “Not everything here is visible in the tapestry. I don’t know how the witch transported him here, or truly how she made any of this world.” He patted Hannibal’s neck. “But I believe he is just a horse. Though he thinks himself a person ofttimes.” Will fit his foot into the stirrup and swung up into the saddle with ease. He extended a hand down to Tessa. “Come.”