Warped (Maurissa Guibord)

backward, listening for a prayer to Satan. Lila's laugh rattled deep in her throat.
    She'd had many different lives, different names, over the years. Such was the burden and the delight of immortality.
    Having to keep moving was a bitch, though. It was an inconvenience she suffered through every twenty-five years or so. Remain in one place too long and the neighbors would begin to wonder. Why does Lila Gerome never seem to age? For the years went by and still she kept the face and figure that would have been beyond the skills of Park Avenue's most adept plastic surgeons. So she had to move, disappear and reappear somewhere else. Always youthful, always beautiful.
    She adjusted a heavy silver ring on one hand. It was a distinctive piece, with a lustrous yellow stone set in its center.
    Across the narrow aisle she caught a glimpse of her countenance in the stainless steel galley. Silver-blond hair, perfectly sculpted features and luscious red lips. Her real self was perhaps revealed only in her eyes, which, though beautifully shaped, were somewhat small and strangely flat. Sometimes she wondered if anyone could glimpse her real self peeking out. Certainly no one would ever compare her to the shabby old weaver woman she had once been, so long ago. No, never.
    It was truly delicious to be Lila Gerome. She could be whatever she wanted, have whatever she wanted. As long as she had the tapestry and the threads. And why not? She had worked hard enough, had paid enough. A long time ago she had paid the ultimate price.
    The tapestry was snugly packed for shipping to her new home, wherever she decided that would be. She had seen to it herself before she had left the New York house. It was safe, along with the book. Lila smiled.
    Her phone rang as they landed. She glanced at it and gave an irritated sigh as she flipped it open with a bloodred fingernail. "What is it, Moncrieff?"
    "It's about the auction." Her assistant's voice was tense. "I--I think there may have been a mix-up. The chest in the master bedroom. It's gone, and I--"
    "What!" Lila snapped. She lurched forward and champagne sloshed from her glass.
    "I--I believe the auctioneer saw the book and thought it went with the others from the library. The book and the tapestry ... are gone."
    Her tapestry. Her unicorn. For a moment two feelings Lila had not felt in a very long time gripped her. One was fear. The other was helplessness, which was far worse.
    With an effort, she quieted her mind. There was no need to panic. No one could do anything with the tapestry. She was the only one who could use it. Only she had the skill to control the threads. But to have it out of her reach was intolerable.
    She spoke very quietly. "Moncrieff. Can you hear me? Get it back." She fumbled in the pocket of her linen jacket and her fingers found something there. A thread. Her fingers wound the thread, and pulled. "Get it back quickly, Moncrieff. Or else. Can you feel this?"
    There was a choked gagging sound on the other end of the phone.
    "If you don't find it," she said in a harsh rasp, "I'm afraid you're going to swallow your tongue."

Chapter 4

Tessa stood on a chair and held the unicorn tapestry up to her bedroom wall. It seemed like an outrageous splash of color against the plain, spare decor of her room. She frowned as she eyed the upper edge. She hated things to be uneven.
    She turned to Pie, who sat on her bed. The cat watched Tessa with an expression of utter feline boredom. "Is this straight?" Tessa asked. Pie responded by flopping onto his side and swishing his tail back and forth. "You're never any help," Tessa remarked with a grin.
    Turning to face the tapestry again, she saw the blurred mesh of the woven threads. There were lush greens and midnight blacks and, from the center, the glow of the unicorn in luminescent tones of milk and cream. She blinked. It was odd; up close there seemed to be other layers, other colors, shimmering beneath the surface of the tapestry. And there were more details in the background too. A snake with yellow eyes lay coiled at the edge of the clearing, nearly hidden by a cluster of flowers and grass. Tessa narrowed her eyes, trying to focus on the threads, but they seemed to fade away. It must have been a trick of the dim lighting, but it almost seemed as if other creatures were moving, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. Strange.
    She tacked up the corners and stepped down.
    There was a hiss behind her. Tessa whirled to see Pie's bared