Warped (29 page)

“What an odd question. Why must you always be so difficult, girl?” Gray Lily’s small, dark eyes narrowed on Tessa’s face. “I am trying to help you, you know. Do you want your father to die? The Norn are your enemy, not me. They have wronged us both.”

“That’s not true,” Tessa said. “The Norn will restore the lives of the people whose threads you stole. They’ve promised.” She pointed the crossbow at Gray Lily once more. Anger and fear made her voice come out in a jerky, breathless shout. “The first. Whose was it? The snake? The dragon? Tell me!”

Gray Lily only folded her arms. The light was fading, and shadows crept from the line of trees, turning the colors in the clearing to deeper shades of emerald grass, dark wood, black earth. There was no time left. Tessa aimed the crossbow, her finger pressed to the release mechanism.

“You make yourself sound like a victim,” cried Tessa. “But you’re a monster!” Hannibal’s ears flattened and he tossed his head as he stepped in place. Tessa gripped his sides with her legs and went on, “You took Will’s life. You’ve trapped him in this tapestry for hundreds of years.”

Gray Lily made a sharp, derisive noise. “You know nothing about it. I
protected
his life.”

“What are you talking about?” Tessa said slowly.

“Do you know what came to Cornwall a fortnight after I took the young master?” Gray Lily asked. When Tessa answered her with only a silent, distrustful stare, she went on. “A plague of smallpox. The entire village was wiped out. They all died, with bleeding pustules and fever and racking pain.” Gray Lily paused and watched Tessa. “Will de Chaucy was to die. That was the
life
the young master had to look forward to.”

Tessa stared. “You’re lying,” she whispered. But she lowered her weapon.

“Look it up,” Gray Lily said tersely. “You’ll find no modern village of Hartescross. No descendents of Gervais de Chaucy. Or,” she added, perhaps seeing the flicker of uncertainty cross Tessa’s face, “you already have. Yes. You know that what I say is true.”

Tessa swallowed. Her throat felt parched. She stared at Gray Lily, trying to take in what she’d been told. Smallpox.

“You had no right. He might have lived,” Tessa said, but her voice carried all the weight and conviction of smoke from a dying fire. In the Middle Ages people did die from plagues of infection. It would explain why the village was wiped out, gone from history. Why there were no descendants of Will’s family. Tessa’s grip on the crossbow slackened.

Gray Lily shrugged. “If I hadn’t taken him, he would have been laid rotting in a shroud before another month had passed. And you? You would never have seen the unicorn in the tapestry. You would never have met him. Do you regret that?” Gray Lily pressed.

“No,” answered Tessa dully. “I don’t regret meeting him.”

“Then why not let him live on? Here. It is your only choice.”

Choice?
Tessa saw no choices anymore. Everything was going too fast, and there no time left for her to think. If the stolen threads were not returned, her father’s life, her whole world, would be destroyed. And if Will’s thread went back to the Norn, what would happen to him? Would he go back to suffer and die with the plague?

What can you do when you have no choices?

At the edge of the trees a twig snapped. The unicorn stepped into the clearing. It was Will. Without a doubt. His eyes were fixed on Tessa, and his breath blew in gusts of vapor against the cool air. The strong columns of his legs were spattered with mud, and bloody scratches marred the milky white shoulders and flanks.

The unicorn seemed to light up the dusky gloom of the clearing as he stepped forward. Tessa could only watch in heartbreak as the beautiful creature came closer, elegant and strong. “Will,” she whispered.

“Of course,” muttered Gray Lily. “I should have known he would come. You are the virgin in his haunts.”

“Except I’m not here to trap him,” whispered Tessa. “I’m here to save him.” She swept a cold look at Gray Lily. “And it’s got nothing to do with being a damned virgin.”

Gray Lily gave her a curious look.

“He came here because he loves me.”

Dizziness washed over Tessa, and she stiffened her body against it. She closed her eyes. She
had
been here before. She took a breath, recognizing the herbal scent of the wet grass and the sounds of birds. Other visions, other dreams came back now, crystalline and real. Running in terror from the woods. Tearing off a bloody gown that didn’t belong to her. In another life, in another time, she was the girl who had trapped Will de Chaucy. An aching sense of loss invaded every part of her.

Kill the unicorn, Tessa
.

Find the first. Return the seven
.

Was Will’s thread the first that Gray Lily had stolen? It made sense. His thread had given her power and youth.

“Do as I say, girl, and come here,” Gray Lily demanded, interrupting Tessa’s thoughts. “Or the unicorn will suffer. Would you like a demonstration?”

She clutched a thread in her supple fingers and twisted. Hugh de Chaucy stepped out of the shadows. Tessa saw the glint of the spear tip as he raised his weapon. Aimed at the unicorn.

“No,” Hugh whispered. He turned a pathetic gaze on Gray Lily. “I beg you.” His head shook back and forth as if he were having a seizure and was trying to control his own limbs. Gray Lily made a small flicking motion with her fingers.

“Hugh,” Tessa screamed. “No!”

The spear shot through the air.

Chapter 44

T
he spear struck, quivering into the unicorn’s arched neck. The animal screamed and rose on his hind legs as the pole of the spear dangled to the ground and blood sprayed out.

“Will!” Tessa screamed. She leapt down from Hannibal’s back and ran. She heard a dull, distant twang as she flung down the crossbow.

The unicorn staggered forward. He buckled to his knees in front of Tessa and sank to the ground. As he dropped his head, his long, spiraled horn impaled the ground.

“Do as I say, girl,” said Gray Lily. “I can make him bleed forever. Or I can heal him. Which shall it be?”

Tessa knelt beside him. The spear jerked in the grass as the unicorn’s body shuddered. With every movement more blood seeped from the animal’s neck. Tessa took hold of the spear in a trembling hand. One thrust deeper and the unicorn would die. This was the reason she was here.

Will’s thread would be freed if he died. If Tessa could prevent Gray Lily from taking it, he would be released. His must have been the first thread stolen; it only made sense. She gripped the cold weapon and closed her eyes.
Kill the unicorn, Tessa
.

“No!” With a hoarse, sobbing cry Tessa pulled out the spear and fell to her knees. She couldn’t do it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. The blood flowed freely from the unicorn’s neck, crimson against pure white. Tessa pressed her hand on the jagged wound to try to slow it down, but bright blood ran slick and hot over her hand. The unicorn’s head slumped to her lap.

Tessa stared. The moment froze in her head and she couldn’t move. She thought of a picture in a book—it seemed so long ago now—of a pathetic girl with sad eyes who just sat there while the unicorn bled. Tessa fisted her hands in frustration. She let out a cry of rage and sadness. She would not be that girl, that heartless, stupid girl.

“Will.” She whispered his name over and over, crooning reassurances to him and burying her face in the thick tangle of the unicorn’s mane.

But she’d failed. To find the key, to find the threads. She had failed at everything. She couldn’t take care of herself, or anybody else, for that matter. She wasn’t in control of anything and she couldn’t fix anything. She was just a puppet on strings.

Gray Lily stepped forward and, reaching out, offered her hand to Tessa. “Come now. He will be all right.”

Tessa blinked. She looked down at her hands. She had been stroking the unicorn’s soft cheek, all the while smearing blood. Her hands were covered. The unicorn’s eyes, Will’s eyes, were closed, but the rounded belly moved with shallow breathing motions. He was still alive. Tessa raised her eyes to look up at Gray Lily. Slowly, gently, she slid the unicorn’s head from her lap. With mechanical motions she forced herself to stand. Her bloodied hands clenched, she stood for a moment. Then, with a fierce scream, Tessa launched herself at Gray Lily.

But Tessa’s body slammed to a violent stop when Gray Lily lifted her slim, beringed hand. She touched Tessa’s chest lightly with her fingers. “Come,” Gray Lily said. Tessa looked down at the golden yellow stone that glowed in the center of her ring. Gray Lily’s fingers pressed harder. Tessa cried out as a needle of icy cold pain shot through her.

“At last,” muttered Gray Lily. Her gentle tone was gone, stripped away like a discarded bit of costume jewelry. “I’m going to be rid of you once and for all, girl. You’re not going back, not after what you’ve done.”

Tessa made herself look into Gray Lily’s eyes. Eyes so filled with hate it seemed that they should burst. Gray Lily opened her dark mouth and begin to spew words. The noise rattled and coiled around Tessa like chains.

“No,” Tessa said. She tried to back away, but she couldn’t move. Pain arced through her body, a hundred times worse now than it had been before. The pain brought tears as she stared down at the spot where Gray Lily’s hand, wearing the silver ring, touched her.

Tessa stared at the ring. She tried to focus on it, even as her vision became blurry. The stone was large. Pretty, Tessa thought with an odd detachment. Her head drooped toward it and she saw details within the polished stone. It was a rich, glowing yellow with a dark brown fleck deep within it. Like a splinter. Snatches of words buzzed in her head.

A piece of a tree
.

Stone from wood
.

She carried a little yellow rock
.

Then a realization broke through Tessa’s muddy thoughts like a beam of light through darkness. “Amber,” she whispered. The key was a piece of amber. A piece of petrified, ancient sap. Sap that held a tiny fragment of wood from an ancient tree.

Tessa raised her hand toward the luminous stone. “The key,” she gasped.

“Yes! I hold the key and the power,” shouted Gray Lily. “Can you feel it, girl? Can you feel your life spinning away from you?”

With a faint cry Tessa reached up and grabbed Gray Lily’s hand. She tried to pull the ring away, but the cold was filling her, spreading from her core to her fingertips. Tessa could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears. It was slowing, as if her blood were freezing solid. Her heart felt like a tumbling block of ice. Tessa saw a flicker of something smoky drifting around Gray Lily’s hand, around the ring. The smoke was pale blue.

Gray Lily was pulling her thread.

“Hugh,” Tessa cried out. “Help me! Please.”

“Moncrieff,” shouted Gray Lily. “Hold her still.” She glared at Tessa and her lovely face twisted into a horrible, furrowed caricature of a woman’s. “I’m going to cast you off!” screamed Gray Lily. “You’ll go into the Void, into a forever of nothing. Go. Drown in blackness.”

As she heard Gray Lily’s words, a pinprick of black swam before Tessa’s eyes and swelled. And then she saw it. She saw the Void. The cold, black vastness of it stretched out before her, and she could feel it. The ravenous loneliness. The crushing weight of . . . nothing.

A sudden movement flashed off to Tessa’s side. She felt a shiver pass through Gray Lily’s hand, felt the witch’s grip loosen for just an instant. But it was enough. Tessa reeled back as Gray Lily’s hold on her thread was broken. The pain lifted from Tessa’s chest, and she saw the blackness of the Void retract and wink out.

Gray Lily grunted and looked down at herself. A spear protruded from the green silk of her gown. Blood oozed around the wooden shaft. Her head shot up and she stared across the span of it at her henchman. “Moncrieff,” she choked out.

“My name,” Hugh gasped, still holding the other end of the spear, “is Hugh de Chaucy.”

“You know you can’t kill me,” snarled Gray Lily. She winced.

“No. But I can hold you for a little while. You took my brother from me, you cursed bitch.” Hugh twisted the spear and shoved it deeper into Gray Lily’s gut. Fire raged in his eyes. “Get the key, Tessa.”

Still wracked with pain, Tessa reached for Gray Lily’s hand. She grabbed the ring and pulled.

With a shriek Gray Lily wrenched her hand away, sending Tessa sprawling to the ground. Gray Lily twisted, trying to loosen herself from Hugh de Chaucy’s spear. Her elegant form looked like a worm writhing on a hook. Finally she narrowed her eyes and gripped the spear, then lifted it, still protruding from her body. She tossed Hugh into the air as easily as she would have thrown a rag doll. He fell in a crumpled, splayed heap yards away. Tessa looked back at Gray Lily with horror as the witch took hold of the spear and wrenched it out of her side with one sharp motion. It was true; Hugh couldn’t kill her, Tessa thought weakly. Nothing could kill her.

Through the trees Tessa could see the glowing orb of the moon. The light washed over the grass, giving it a sparkling sheen. Gray Lily whirled on Tessa. “Now you die,” she gasped. She held out her hand. And stared. Gray Lily’s middle finger was empty. Tessa looked down into her own cupped palm. The amber ring glowed up at her. She hadn’t even felt it. She slipped it on her finger. “No. I don’t think so,” Tessa answered breathlessly. Without thinking, she reached out her hand.

A look of stark terror filled Gray Lily’s face. That was when Tessa saw it: a faint purple shadow hovering near the wound in her side. Tessa peered at the shimmering form; it looked like waves of heat rising from a hot highway, or wisps of steam from a cooling but still-warm teakettle.

It was Gray Lily’s thread.

Somewhere in the distance Tessa heard Gray Lily’s screaming curse, but she hardly noticed. She stepped closer. Slowly a purple vapor was coiling out from Gray Lily and winding toward her. Tessa had no craft, no words, no potions. But she could feel that thread. She concentrated her whole mind on the faint, wispy substance.
Come to me
, she told it. She knew it would. She could already feel the livid color of it, the texture of it in her fingers. She took hold of it and felt warmth glide along her arm.