Warped (Maurissa Guibord)

and return to their own lives. If this is not accomplished--"
    "But it isn't fair!" The words exploded from Tessa before she could think about the wisdom of yelling at the three otherworldly beings.
    "Not fair?" Weavyr's head gave a slight shake. "Fairness. Justice. Good. Evil. These are human concepts. We are not bound by them."
    "What are you bound by?" Tessa whispered desperately.
    "Our ways are beyond your comprehension, mortal," Scytha cut in. "Do not ask again. Return the threads."
    "But I didn't take the threads!" Tessa yelled at the glass, her face inches from the wavering images. So close that her skin shone with the reflected blue glow from the mirror. "I told you before. It wasn't me. It was Gray Lily."
    There was a cold silence. "You lie," said Scytha.
    "No. I don't," Tessa snapped. "And I think if you're so damned powerful, you should be able to figure this out. She's the one who made the tapestry. She has your threads. And now she's taken Will's thread away again. He may be back in the tapestry already. I don't know. But I need to find him."
    "Why?"
    The question came so quickly that Tessa didn't have time to think; she just answered. "Because I need him." Her shoulders dropped and the force went out of her voice. "He's hurting. I can feel it. And I ... care about him."
    Spyn, the Norn with the thin, twitchy fingers, turned to her sisters and emitted a derisive sound, like a snort, from beneath her hood. There was a long pause as the three figures huddled together, apparently whispering to each other. Their muttered tones sounded like the hissing of snakes. They turned to face her once more.
    "Perhaps you speak the truth and did not steal the threads," said Weavyr. "It does not matter. It seems that your goals and ours should be the same, mortal."
    Scytha's deep voice rolled out like the rumble of thunder. "You must find the stolen threads. Seven threads. Seven lives."
    "But I've told you that Gray Lily stole them," Tessa said. "Why can't you find them?"
    Her question hung there until at last Weavyr answered: "The threads have been removed from the Wyrd. They are beyond our control." The words seemed like an admission spoken with difficulty, and one that Weavyr wanted to pass over as quickly as possible. "You must find this tapestry that Gray Lily has made," she went on, "and retrieve them."
    "But how?" Tessa demanded. "Even if I can get close to the tapestry, how do I get the threads out?" What had happened with Will, she was still sure, was some kind of freak accident.
    There was a pause. The three hooded figures remained motionless as their collective blue aura swirled like neon smoke. "The tree, Yggdrasil," Scytha said finally. "It is the origin, the source of life. The threads are drawn to it. Look to see if the witch carries a piece of wood, or a twig."
    Tessa thought about this and recalled the words from Gray Lily's book. I have discovered the key . Could the key the witch referred to be a piece of wood? Tessa didn't remember seeing anything like that when Gray Lily pulled Will's life thread. But maybe she carried it somewhere, hidden. Just great. What was Tessa supposed to do? Strip-search the Wicked Witch of the West?
    But Tessa nodded her understanding to the Norn. "Okay. Supposing I do find this piece of wood. Then what?"
    "You must find the first thread that was stolen," said Scytha. "That is the only way all can be set right."
    "How do I do that?" Tessa questioned. "How can I possibly tell which thread was the first?"
    There was no reply. This silent, looming act seemed to be a specialty of the Norn, Tessa realized. She felt like screaming, like smashing the mirrored glass and reaching through to grab the hooded cloaks and see what lay hidden beneath them. But she knew it wouldn't do any good. And it certainly wouldn't help her father. After a few moments passed she said wearily: "You don't know, do you?"
    "Enough talk!" shrieked Spyn in such a high-pitched voice that Tessa jerked back. "Enough questions. Just get the threads, little human!"
    Tessa gathered herself. She had to know one thing more. "If I return the threads, you'll put things back the way they were? My life will be back to normal, right? My dad and Opal and--"
    Scytha's roar drowned her out. "We do not make bargains with mortals! The only promise you have is this: if the threads are not returned before the full moon, your father will die."
    A cold hand fisted around Tessa's heart. She stared into the black murk beneath the