Warped (Maurissa Guibord)

wriggled her long fingers at Tessa. "You love him."
    "Yes," Tessa said. "I love him."
    "It wasn't a question," remarked Spyn with a sniff.
    The last cloaked figure, who had been regarding Tessa silently from the dark recesses beneath her hood, finally spoke:
    "Do you try to cheat fate, mortal?" Weavyr asked quietly.
    "I'm not cheating," Tessa answered. She pointed to the endless fabric. "You just said his thread is there. Returned."
    "But not to where it should be. He belongs to another time."
    Tessa shrugged. "I guess you should have been more specific."
    There was silence as the Norn contemplated this, and then, for the first time in the memory of the world, Scytha's shears slowly closed--without cutting anything.
    "Very well," said Weavyr. "I suppose we owe the girl something for returning the lost threads." She bent to examine the Wyrd. "Some semblance of order seems to have been restored."
    "And my father," said Tessa. "He'll be all right?"
    Scytha gave one slow, emphatic nod. "All will be as we promised, mortal. Just as we extend no pity, neither do we hold grudges. You shall be returned to your life. And Gray Lily will be punished in a manner that is ... appropriate."
    Tessa hardly heard what the hooded figure was saying. Having learned that her father was safe, she was weak with relief. She'd come so close to losing him. Just as she had lost her mother, suddenly and without reason. The old hurt welled up inside her. It felt like a hole; it could never be fixed, and it would never go away.
    Tessa looked down at the swirling fabric that the Norn had made of human lives. The Wyrd, they called it. "You have all this power," Tessa said. "You control everything. Why do you do the things you do?"
    When no answer came, she pressed them. "My mother," Tessa whispered. "Her name was Wendy Brody. She was young. An artist. Why did she have to die?"
    Spyn shuddered and put her spindly fingers to her head. "You see," she said. "It's always the same question. Why? Why? It buzzes in my head."
    Scytha answered. "Your mother died because it was time for her thread to be cut."
    "But why?" Tessa demanded. "Because you decided?"
    "I told you once before," said Scytha. "Our reasons and our ways are beyond your comprehension."
    Tessa shook her head and replied quietly, "You should try us sometime. You might be surprised."
    There was silence for a moment as the three cloaked figures seemed to mull this over. Finally Scytha shook her head. "Good-bye for now, mortal. Go and live your life," she said gloomily. "You shall see these blades again one day."
    Then there was a tearing noise and Tessa plummeted into rushing darkness.
    She landed, with a muffled crash, on a bed. There was an instant of stillness as motes of dust settled around her; then the frame collapsed to the floor. Tessa pushed herself up, wide-eyed. She was back home. Well, not home, but close. The hotel room of the Portland Regency was just as she had seen it last.
    Through the open window wafted a cool breeze, tinged with the scent of brine from the sea. The sound of a car horn blared outside. Tessa stood up, dazed, and looked around. Other than the demolished bed, there was no sign that anyone had been here. The tapestry was gone.
    Tessa took several deep breaths and put a hand to her head. It was aching and warm, but otherwise, she was okay. The events of the last few days unfurled in her thoughts. The unicorn tapestry, Will, Gray Lily. Had she been sick and imagined the whole thing? Maybe none of it had even happened.
    She stumbled over to the full-length mirror on the wall. "Oh yeah," she said. "It happened." A bedraggled, black-haired girl dressed in a torn velvet gown stared back at her. On her finger glowed a brilliant ring of amber set in silver.
    When Tessa touched the band of polished metal with a tentative finger, the burnished stone glowed as if a tiny flame flickered inside it. Tessa clasped her fingers tightly around it.
    "Thanks," she whispered, knowing that the Norn probably couldn't hear her. And that they probably wouldn't care if they did. She turned to go and spotted something beneath the corner of the bed. She picked up the thick black book and walked out.

Chapter 46

Two weeks later Tessa was in her favorite chair in the corner of Brody's Books. She stretched out, letting her gaze roam around the updated decor. She had to admit, Alicia had made some good suggestions, including the addition of a small cafe area, which had brought tons of customers