by Ally Condie
Opal couldn’t believe what was happening.
She was sitting across from Sylvain Nantes in his study. Logan had just told him about the houseboat. And his father clearly hadn’t been surprised.
“Our family has always been Torchbearers?” Logan repeated, as if unable to process what he was hearing.
Staring at the ceiling, Sylvain nodded unhappily.
Logan pressed both fists to his temples, gaping at his father. “You’re saying that Grandpa was a Torchbearer?”
Another reluctant nod.
Logan’s twinkling eyes shot to Opal’s. “This is so cool!” he whispered, but then his attention snapped back to his dad. “So why aren’t either of your names recorded in the Order’s ledger? And why didn’t you tell me any of this, if it’s some kind of family tradition?”
“Because I am not a Torchbearer.” The iron had returned to Sylvain’s voice.
Opal felt a spasm of unease. They’d lost control of their secret. An adult knew, and not just anyone. Logan’s father had the power to change everything if he wanted to.
Mr. Nantes sat forward in his chair, his expression stony. “I want nothing to do with it.”
“But—” Logan began.
Sylvain cut his son off with a raised hand. He glanced at Opal, and this time, she realized he wasn’t just exhausted. He was … heartbroken. Sylvain leaned heavily on the desktop, dropping his gaze to its scarred surface.
“When I was old enough, my father took me out to Still Cove. Just like your great-grandfather had done with him. He showed me the boat and Torchbearer vault, and introduced me to Mr. Hale, who at that time was still a young man. Then my father … led me downstairs to witness the Deepness.” Sylvain shuddered once, uncontrollably. His glare rose from the desktop and pierced them both. “I learned about the Rift, the Traveler in the jar, the Torchbearer code, all of it.”
“Even the Beast?” Logan asked.
Sylvain stiffened. “You kids have been busy.”
“So you were supposed to be a Torchbearer.” Opal’s tone was delicate. “But you … you didn’t do it?”
Mr. Nantes slumped back in his seat, deflated. “I knew immediately that I didn’t want any part of that mess.”
Part of Opal understood. “It’s a lot to take in,” she agreed. “Keeping watch, making sure the gateway stays closed.” Her eyes popped. “Do you know how to seal the Rift for good?!”
Sylvain shook his head sharply. “No one does. That’s why the tradition is passed down.”
Logan gave his father a hard look. “So you just didn’t want to do the work? It was too much trouble to watch out for rogue figments, and keep our town safe?”
“That’s not what it was,” Sylvain snapped. “Don’t presume to understand my motivations.”
Logan was unrelenting. “You were here on Dark Halloween! You knew what was happening. And said nothing!”
Sylvain tensed. His voice was barely a whisper. “I thought I knew.”
Opal watched Sylvain’s expression roil, as if he struggled with some terrible burden. Then his cheeks went slack. He sighed again, a long, hopeless exhalation, his gaze drifting to the window once more. After another endless moment, he resumed speaking. “It’s the part you probably don’t know yet. The … the worst of it. The one thing the Torchbearer Order never wrote down.” He set his jaw. “When those monsters marched from the sea, I … I assumed the day had finally come. I don’t think I ever forgave my father for telling me about it.”
Goosebumps erupted up and down Opal’s limbs.
Logan leaned forward, his whole body quivering. “What did he tell you, Dad? What don’t we know about?”
Sylvain turned to look at them, eyes sorrowful and resigned. “That the end of the world is coming, son. It could already be on its way. And there’s absolutely nothing you, I, or anyone else can do about it.”
PART TWO
THE MESSAGE
9
NICO
Nico’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.
“The end of the world? Logan’s dad really said that?” His shocked expression morphed into a glower. “What a bunch of garbage. Why am I not surprised the Nantes family thinks they’re the center of the universe?”
Opal shook her head firmly, eyes tight as she paced the showroom. Her chin trembled. Nico realized she looked shaky, like she was trapped in a car rolling downhill with its brakes out and a cliff looming ahead.
“Nico, his dad knew stuff.” Opal absently wiped moisture from her upper lip. “Torchbearer secrets! And some things aren’t up for debate. Logan found his grandfather’s baseball under a floorboard right beside the Darkdeep, and his dad admitted putting it there. His father also knew the combination to open the lockbox we found, too. Those aren’t tricks—Sylvain Nantes has 100 percent been aboard this houseboat!”
Nico glanced at a row of glass cases gleaming in the early morning sunlight. Under Tyler’s ruthless direction, layers of dust had been obliterated, but the showroom still had an abandoned vibe. An aura of age and neglect. How long since anyone but us walked these aisles?
He felt a rush of panic. Opal’s revelations were terrible. Coming so soon on the back of his dad’s transfer news, Nico wasn’t sure he could handle the strain. I’m about to lose my house, my friends, my hometown. Now even the secrets I swore to protect are exposed.
Oh, and maybe the world is going to end.
“Explain it all again,” he said quietly, hoping the crack in his voice had gone unnoticed.
Opal nodded. “I went to see Logan, one thing led to another, blah blah blah, and suddenly we’re in this crazy confrontation with his father about the baseball. Sylvain said flat-out that the Nantes family has been Torchbearers since the founding of Timbers. But get this—they never logged their names on the Order’s roster.”
Nico shook his head in bafflement. “Why?” He jabbed a finger at the ancient, slug-stained record book they’d found inside the tunnel vault, which Tyler had placed inside its own display out of respect for its importance. “We have the entire list of Torchbearers right there. If Logan’s ancestors were so important, and took the oath, why didn’t they sign where it matters? The last name is Roman Hale—who we already know about. There’s not a single Nantes on the ledger.”
“Sylvain mentioned Hale by name,” Opal countered. Was there frustration in her voice? At who? Me? “He said their family never went on record in case the Order was exposed. But they financed, supplied, and disguised the operation, dating back to the days of Edward Nantes and Yvette Dumont. The idea was that if anyone ever discovered the Darkdeep, they wouldn’t be connected, and could handle the problem without suspicion.”
Nico abruptly paced away, crossing his arms. Finally, he turned back. “It makes sense,” he admitted grudgingly. “You’d want part of the group fire-walled in case the worst happened.” Nico squeezed his forehead, then ran a hand over his face. “Still. You’re telling me that a long line of Nantes jerks served as head Torchbearers, but never took credit for it? Doesn’t sound like the people I know.” He paused. “Maybe they just wanted a way to weasel out of trouble if things went bad.”
“They kept their own records.” Opal spun and dug something from her bag, a battered gray booklet about the size of an iPhone. “This was inside the lockbox, along with an album of grainy old photographs. Logan’s going through those now—he thinks his dad boxed up all the family Torchbearers stuff to get rid of it—but he asked me to bring this ledger here for safekeeping. It’s a private listing of every Nantes who joined the Order. The ones picked as Torchbearers didn’t even tell their spouses or kids if they weren’t also chosen—no more than three people knew the secret at any given time.”
Nico stared at the logbook like it was wrapped in a dirty diaper. “How’d Logan convince his dad to give up the combo? And why store their secret family history on the boat?”
“Logan asked for it point-blank, and Sylvain just told him. Right in front of me, like he was in a daze.
” Opal grimaced. “His dad isn’t in good shape. Logan doesn’t trust him to keep any of this stuff protected. He tried to bury it once already, after all.”
Nico blinked. “Because of the end-of-the-world thing?”
“Sylvain believes it, Nico. You should have seen his face. He’s convinced we’re all doomed, but he wouldn’t tell us why.”
Nico grunted derisively. “No specifics, just ‘everyone’s gonna die’? I’m not buying it. Maybe Logan’s dad has a screw loose.” He glanced at the entry curtain. “Why isn’t Logan here, anyway? We should all examine those pictures, if they really do involve Torchbearer stuff. I know Emma and Tyler are stuck at home, but Logan should be able to do whatever he wants right now. Since his dad knows all about us.”
Nico scuffed a shoe on the carpet. He hated that their secret was out.
“He’s pretty shaken up, Nico.” Opal’s gaze carried a touch of reproach. “Logan just learned that his family bankrolled the Torchbearer Order for centuries, and that his dad decided not to keep the tradition alive. Or tell him about it. I’m not sure which stung worse.”
Nico sighed. “Why’d his dad bail on the Darkdeep? It was such a reckless thing to do.”
Opal threaded her braid between her fingers. “He didn’t answer straight out. Thomas Nantes, Logan’s granddad, brought Sylvain to Still Cove when he turned thirteen. Thomas showed him everything—the island, the vault, the houseboat, even the Darkdeep itself. Sylvain was supposed to be next in line. But Thomas also told Sylvain something else. And it terrified him.”
“What?”
Opal shook her head. “He wouldn’t say. Then like twenty years passed, Sylvain got married, and Logan was born. At the time, Thomas Nantes and Roman Hale did all the Torchbearer work, and they were still trying to involve Sylvain. He played along until his father died. But when Thomas passed away, Sylvain came here and buried the lockbox and his father’s baseball under the floorboards. Rejecting that part of his family’s past, I guess—the whole Torchbearer legacy. Sylvain stopped talking to Roman Hale outside of work at the mill, and hasn’t been back to the houseboat since.”
Nico’s eyes grew hard. “And when Hale went missing?”
Opal shrugged. “I guess Sylvain assumed Hale had run off and quit, like he did.”
A thought occurred to Nico. “When the Rift went beserk, and figments attacked the beach, Logan’s dad must’ve known what was happening. But he never came to check on the Darkdeep. Or went out to the Rift, as far as we know. Not once!”
Opal gave a grim nod. “He said we wouldn’t understand. I’m telling you, the man has totally given up. He assumed the end of the world was here, and just accepted it.”
Nico stared at Opal, his mouth falling open. “That’s … that’s horrible!”
“Logan felt the same. He was furious. But it didn’t faze Sylvain. He seems convinced that whatever the danger is, it’s irreversible, and maybe already underway.”
Nico chewed the inside of his cheek. “What precisely did he say about the end of the world?”
Opal took a deep breath. She appeared to be running the conversation back in her mind. “He said that the Rift was just the beginning, and that nothing could protect our world from what lies beyond. That the Darkdeep was only part of it. Then he turned and went upstairs.” She paused, her voice turning sad. “He didn’t even hug Logan. It’s like his dad couldn’t show any emotion at all.”
I know what that’s like sometimes. But Nico forced away the unexpected twinge of sympathy for Logan. “So that’s all? Nothing else?”
Opal thought a moment. “Wait. He said time was running out. I remember because it didn’t make sense when we were talking. Sylvain blurted out that no one could contain a Rift, on either side.” Her eyes widened. “He also said that he wasn’t the only one who thought so.”
Nico’s ears perked. “Not the only one? What does that mean?”
Opal snorted nervously. “Who knows? Maybe Sylvain is pals with other Torchbearers.”
The hairs on Nico’s neck stood up. “You mean like Roman Hale?”
Opal’s face had paled. “Maybe. But now that I think about it … that’s not how it felt at the time. And I think he used the present tense.”
Nico sat down hard on a bench. Pressed his fists into his eye sockets. “Oh man, I can’t handle much more of this.”
He felt a soft touch on his back. Nico tensed. Opal was standing beside him, one hand resting between his shoulder blades. Her fingertips radiated heat like sudden fire.
Nico didn’t move. Didn’t want to break the contact. A rush of emotions coursed through him.
“I’m so sorry you’re moving, Nico.”
Opal’s voice was gentle. Fragile. Nico didn’t look up.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. “I’m just gonna miss … I hate that …”
“Same.”
She lightly brushed his neck. Nico nearly shot ten feet into the air. But he didn’t pull away. They weren’t looking at each other. Nico couldn’t. He’d gone tomato red and was terrified Opal might see. What in the world is happening to me?
“Maybe you could come visit some time?” Nico said softly, uncertain what words would come out until after he spoke. “A ferry runs to Coupeville on weekends. From there I’m sure there’s a bus down to Portland, or, or … whatever.”
He heard a swift intake of breath. “Yeah. Sure, Nico. That’d be fun.”
They stayed frozen like that for an endless moment. Opal’s hand on the back of his head, Nico unmoving, eyes closed as if resting. He thought these might be the scariest heartbeats of his life. Say something, doofus.
He opened his eyes. Eased back until they could see each other. Opal was facing away, a scarlet flush infusing her cheeks. What’s bothering her?
“Opal, I …”
She turned back, but they didn’t meet eyes.
“Yeah?”
“I … I just want to say tha—”
An echoing boom thundered up through the floorboards.
Opal and Nico leaped apart as if electroshocked.
Nico’s gaze whipped to the wall panel hiding the Darkdeep. “What was that?”
Opal was smoothing her jeans and hair. “Nothing good. Let’s go see what gave the Darkdeep indigestion this time.”
“Right.” Nico stumbled after her as she arrowed for the secret staircase. “Right, yeah.”
At the bottom of the steps, they found the well slowly bubbling. A weird odor permeated the room, like sour milk. Or a dog that ate cheese that didn’t sit well. Opal moved straight to the edge and peered down. “Nico, look!”
She pointed into the Darkdeep.
An object was bobbing in the inky liquid.
Nico knelt and fished it out, being careful not to touch the water. He stepped back, holding a canvas-wrapped parcel no larger than his palm. Nico powered his phone light and examined the mysterious item.
“Another message?” Opal whispered.
Nico swallowed. “Only one way to find out.”
He unwound a small metal tie, loosening the cloth. Something dropped into his other palm.
Nico held it up. A beat passed, then he grunted.
“Huh?”
He was holding a small, roughly carved figurine. The material felt like wood, but not a kind Nico had ever seen before. The grain was fine, the figure shaped in strong, simple cuts with an angular lower half that appeared to be a dress. The top was a woman’s face wearing a tiny crown on its head.
Beside him, Opal snapped her fingers. “The queen!”
He squinted. “What? Like, a doll?”
“No, no!” Her eyes shone with excitement. “A game piece. This looks a bit like one of the queens from our chess set. The one Thing gave us to get back through the Rift! Remember?”
Nico saw it now. “You’re right!”
Opal chewed her lip thoughtfully. “But our set isn’t missing either queen. And those pieces are made of stone.”
>
“True.” Nico’s brow furrowed. His gaze dropped to the now-silent Darkdeep. The surface had smoothed, revealing no further clues.
“Why would this show up now?” Opal whispered, almost to herself. “Who sent it?”
Nico felt a lump build in his throat. He choked it back as adrenaline filled his veins.
“I don’t know. But we’d better find out. Fast.”
10
OPAL
“Is it weird having a museum named after you?”
Opal eyed the old-fashioned lettering above the entrance to the Nantes Timber Exhibition Hall.
Logan snorted, pushing through a pair of heavy glass doors. “It’s easy if you own the place.” He still seemed annoyed she’d dragged him from his house despite everything that had happened. Logan’s father had practically gone into hiding, locking himself in his study early that morning and ignoring anyone who knocked.
An elderly woman in a green smock slipped from her stool and beelined for them, clearly delighted to have visitors. The word VOLUNTEER was stitched in gold over her right pocket. Her eyes gleamed with the passion of someone who knew a lot of obscure trivia, and couldn’t wait to share it.
Opal recognized her—Mrs. Cartwright, who’d owned the grocery store until her daughter took over a few years ago. “Your family does Timbers a great service here,” she intoned reproachfully, having heard Logan’s snide remark. “Think of everything the town would lose if this collection wasn’t preserved.”
“Right,” Logan said. “We need old saws.”
Mrs. Cartwright squinted at Logan, as if unsure whether she was being mocked. “Shall I give you a tour?” she asked hopefully.
Opal felt a stab of angst. It’d be impossible to snoop for Torchbearer stuff with a pushy guide around.
“We’re fine on our own,” Logan said, and the woman’s face fell. “I actually, um, know a lot about this building already.”
“Of course you do,” Mrs. Cartwright said, making a valiant effort to hide her disappointment. “Thomas Nantes would undoubtably have made certain his grandchildren were well versed in their family history.”