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barreled in to see what was wrong.
    She’d been dreaming. Images and sensations flooded back: of sunlight and shadows and the sweet smell of grass. Someone had been chasing her. Yes, a really vivid dream. A daydream. The details were disappearing . . . .She frowned, trying to remember. But it was like trying to grab a puff of smoke. The memories slipped through her fingers.
    Weavyr let out a gasp. “Did you see that? Just now?”
    “What?” replied Spyn, startled. She clutched a diaphanous golden cloud that was half spun and hurriedly twined it together with a brilliant black thread. Twins.
    “There was a disturbance in the Wyrd. Here.” Weavyr pointed to a fine blue filament. “This one. It folded back on itself. It’s not supposed to do that.” She smoothed the thread back into place.
    “What does it mean?” asked Spyn.
    “How should I know?” snapped Weavyr. “It’s never happened before!”
    Scytha floated up behind them like a draft of cold night air. “Show me,” she intoned.
    Weavyr traced the path the errant thread had taken.
    “Back in time. Five hundred years,” said Scytha. “To when the missing threads disappeared. Interesting.”
    “I’m glad you think so,” muttered Weavyr.
    “It is no coincidence,” said Scytha. “There must be some connection to the stolen threads.”
    “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” snarled Weavyr. “Nobody listens to me. And mark my words,” she added with a grim sort of satisfaction, “this isn’t the last of it. Something is very wrong.”

Chapter 5
    T his is all wrong . Tessa felt the seat-belt buckle grind into her hip as Hunter Scoville leaned into the kiss, angling his head as if he meant to swallow her whole. He shifted one arm behind her while his free hand slid under the front of her sweater. The night air felt as cool as a splash of water on her skin, but his hands were hot, almost sticky. Hunter lurched forward again with hands and tongue. Tessa’s head banged against the window.
    Um. No .
    “Stop.” Tessa broke away with what she meant to be a gentle push, but it turned into a two-fisted shove. Without thinking, she brought one knee up.
    Hunter drew back in surprise, then eased himself back in the driver’s seat. He ran a hand through his dark, cropped hair. “Sorry. Problem?”
    “No problem.” Tessa said. She winced as she unsnagged a strand of her hair from the door handle.
    In the dim light she could see his flushed face, the sheen on his forehead as if he had been running. He’d gone from zero to sweaty in about ten seconds. A sexual Porsche , she thought. Meanwhile, I’m . . . what? Pedaling along, waiting for . . . What was she waiting for, anyway? She wasn’t sure. But it definitely wasn’t Hunter.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked.
    “Huh?” Tessa stumbled toward an answer. “I’m not—” She broke off. What? That kind of girl? Into you? Into having my tonsils excavated on our first kiss? Anything she said at this point would sound lame. “Nothing,” she said. She realized she was still balled up in a defensive position, like a nervous hedgehog. Awkward with self-consciousness, she straightened her legs and smoothed her rucked-up sweater.
    Hunter leaned closer again. His breath was warm in her ear. “It’s just, the way we met, right away I felt a connection. It was like fate brought us together or something. Do you believe in fate?” he asked softly.
    Tessa frowned. “Fate? No, I don’t think so.”
    They’d met when Tessa got hit in the face by one of Hunter’s volleyball serves in gym. Not exactly the most romantic beginning. But Hunter had been very apologetic and really nice. And somewhere, she recalled, between getting an ice pack applied and having gauze stuffed up her bloody nose, he had asked her out. Of course she’d known who he was; he was one of the most popular guys in school. They even shared some classes. But Hunter had never seemed to notice her before.
    “It was an