by Ally Condie
“Yellowstone?” His eyebrows arched in surprise. “I mean, yes, it’s possible. There just so happens to be a flight from Skagit Regional to Jackson Hole every Wednesday.” Nico’s father drilled him with a baleful stare. “I see you’ve been looking through my private work papers, son.”
Nico tried to keep his face straight. “So we can go?”
“Just hold on.” Warren’s mouth curled like he smelled something foul. “Why do you want to go to Yellowstone all of a sudden? We don’t have a place to stay, and Thanksgiving is tomorrow.”
“Rob already said he’s not coming home from Gonzaga,” Nico countered, using his older brother’s absence as a convenient wedge. “If he’s skipping the whole break to stay at college, why shouldn’t we take a vacation? What did you plan to cook, anyway?”
Warren’s expression became defensive. “I thought we’d go to Timbers Cafe, like always.”
Nico gave his dad a look. “They have cafes in Wyoming, too. And you said before we could stay at an empty ranger cabin if one wasn’t being manned. I bet some are open over the holiday.”
Warren swiveled to look at Emma, who maintained her overwide smile. She hadn’t actually asked for permission yet, but Emma swore she could convince her parents to let her go if the trip was already in place. If not, Nico would just go by himself.
He really, really hoped Emma could join him. Two days in a cabin with his surprised, surly dad was not what Nico was aiming for.
Warren gave Emma a penetrating glare. “Emma, are you sure you want to miss having dinner with your family?”
Emma nodded so hard her head threatened to wobble off. “I don’t like stuffing, and they all just sit around watching football anyway. When they’re not gobbling up chili or asleep on the couch. I want to see geysers!”
Warren still had his arms crossed. He went silent, seemed to be going over the idea in his mind.
“It’d be nice to have one last trip with Nico before you guys move,” Emma said quietly. Was that a real quaver in her voice?
Something loosened in Warren Holland’s countenance. He glanced at his son with tired eyes.
“Let me make some calls.”
“Pumped!” Emma crowed, snapping her seat belt into place. “I am pumpity-pumped, pumped up. Let’s do this!”
“Take it easy!” Nico chuckled, as he strapped himself in beside her. Then he shook his head in honest wonderment, leaning his head against the airplane window. “I can’t believe this is happening. How’d you make it work?”
Emma cracked her knuckles in front of her. “Confidence, my friend. See the goal, be the goal, achieve the goal.” She made a ‘shoots, scores’ motion with her hands, holding the follow-through for him to see.
Nico covered his eyes and mock-groaned. “Lame. So, so lame.” Then he dropped his hands. “But I can’t argue with results. We just conjured a visit to Yellowstone out of thin air. Merry Thanksgiving, every one.”
Emma’s grin soured briefly. “I wish Tyler and Opal could’ve come.”
Nico got busy fiddling with his air vent. “They wanted to. But not many parents are up for something like this—last-minute air travel, on a freaking holiday. I still don’t know how you pulled it off.”
“I worked my parents’ soft spots.” Emma giggled wickedly. “I own those suckers.”
“Tyler said they’d keep digging while we’re gone. He’s got a new Beastmaster theory he wants to try out, and Opal is obsessed with learning more about Yvette Dumont.” Nico sat back in his seat. “Honestly, I’m not sure how all the Nantes and Dumont history is supposed to help us control the Rift, but …”
“Knowledge is power,” Emma countered, shoving her overstuffed backpack under the seat, then kicking it deeper for good measure. “And be fair—the clue Opal found on that photo is all we really have to go on. We stand on the shoulders of greatness.”
Nico snorted. “You’re like an inspirational quote generator right now.”
Emma grinned ear to ear. “Why, Nico, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Make sure your reach always exceeds your grasp. No fear. Carpe all the diem.”
Nico laughed out loud, drawing a few glances from the assorted government personnel also taking the mostly empty flight. They’d gone to a special gate at the airport and boarded directly on the tarmac. His father was sitting a few rows back from them, with the other adults. The entire group was listening to Warren as he explained something about seagull migration patterns. It occurred to Nico that, if their rapt attention was any indication, his father was kind of a big deal. Who knew?
A voice rattled over the PA system. “All passengers, please take your seats and stow your carry-on luggage.”
There was a slight commotion at the front of the plane—someone hustling up the mobile stairs at the last instant. A flight attendant with pursed lips shepherded the latecomer down the aisle. “Take anything open, hon, and buckle up.”
As the flyer shuffled into view, Nico felt his jaw drop open. He could not believe who he was staring at.
“Logan?!” Emma screeched in delight. “What are you doing here?”
Dragging a huge duffel bag, Logan was nearly out of breath. He plopped into the aisle seat next to Emma. “Oof. Barely made it. I’ve wanted to visit Yellowstone my whole life.”
“But … but …” Nico’s mouth worked like a fish. “How did you know?!”
“Opal told me,” Logan answered with a wheeze. “She and Tyler don’t know I decided to tag along, but this could be important. I can’t get that photo inscription out of my head. And there was no time to get in touch with you guys. So, here I am!” He took a deep breath. “That was close.”
Nico watched in horror as the flight attendant sealed the outer door and pronounced the plane ready for takeoff.
“Just hold on.” Nico made a chopping motion with both hands. “This isn’t even a commercial flight!”
“Not true,” Logan replied. “I spoke to a nice woman named Gail about it on the phone. The airline holds a block of seats open for your dad’s department, but anyone can buy the leftovers, if you know the right people. As it happens, I do,” he said smugly.
“So your mom took care of it,” Emma snarked.
Logan’s good humor was unshakeable. “Like I said—the right people.”
Nico sat back and jerked his jacket smooth. “Well, don’t think you’re staying with us. You might’ve wormed onto this flight, but you’re not weaseling into our cabin. Enjoy sleeping in the snow drifts.”
Logan grunted. Then he unbuckled and stood up, peering toward the back of the plane.
Nico stiffened. “Hey, what are y—”
“Mr. Holland?” Logan called out.
Warren stopped speaking and looked down the aisle in surprise. “Logan?”
“Yessir. My parents said I could come along. Okay if I stay with you guys, too?”
“Um, sure, son. No problem. It’s a decent-sized cabin.” Warren fired a glare over the empty rows at Nico, who had twisted around in horror. “A little warning would’ve been nice, but it’s no big deal. Happy to have you along.”
Nico slumped back down in his seat. His father was being nicer than his usual gruff self, probably to assure Logan that he didn’t harbor any ill feelings toward him. But now he’s annoyed with me. I swear, this Nantes kid!
“Well,” Emma said slowly. “Looks like we’re all here.”
“Ready for a grand adventure!” Logan boomed, his voice cheery as he resnapped his seat belt. “I wonder if they’ll have an in-flight movie?”
Nico’s head dropped into his hands.
12
OPAL
Come to the marina ASAP!
Opal felt the urgency of Tyler’s text as she watched a group of dockworkers drag a battered shipwreck from the sea. Terrence Watson—Tyler’s father and the official harbormaster of Timbers—was shouting instructions at the half-drenched men as they used heavy ropes to haul the broken vessel up a boat ramp. A small crowd had g
athered, zipped up in heavy coats as they observed the salvage effort.
Opal slipped past them and headed over to the foot of the long pedestrian pier, which was empty. No surprise, since a frigid gale was cutting across the waterfront like a butcher knife as sleet fell in fitful bursts.
Where are u, she was about to text back, but a second later Tyler appeared, leaning into the wind with his hood up and parka zipped to the chin. “Happy Turkey Day. Crazy weather, right?” He waved at the snow and ice swirling down around them. They rarely had blizzards in Timbers during November.
“At least it’s not glowing orange or something,” Opal joked. “What’s going on?” She pointed to the drowned boat, which was now listing sideways on the pavement of the marina parking lot. The boards beneath Opal’s feet were slick with ice, and she kept one hand on the railing. “Is that what your text was about?”
At that moment Tyler’s dad called out something to his crew. The workers began to disperse, some murmuring ominously to each another as they cast unhappy looks at what they’d reclaimed from the ocean.
Tyler’s lips pursed inside his parka cocoon. “That’s Mr. Reamer’s fishing trawler. And he’s got quite a story to tell.”
Opal glanced back at the wreck. “What happened to it?”
“You’ll see, come on.” Tyler began angling over toward the damaged boat, being careful where he placed his slippery feet.
Nonplussed, Opal hurried to follow.
“My dad got the call this morning,” Tyler said when she drew even with him again. “Reamer was hysterical, howling about how his boat was sinking. Everyone knows he sleeps out there half the time, anchored in the harbor, so my dad high-tailed it down with his crew and they managed to get lines on it before the ship went completely under.” Tyler shivered, glancing up at the slate-gray clouds dumping snow onto the boardwalk. “Reamer is a lucky man. It’s not a good day for a swim. You think Nico’s flight took off okay?”
“I hope so,” Opal said. “The weather might be better inland.”
They neared the wreck, which had been partially covered by a ragged blue tarp. Tyler’s dad waved. He was the only one left in the lot—everyone else was trudging uphill, the backbreaking work done, no doubt heading straight for their mashed potatoes and gravy.
Opal spotted a jagged hole in the bottom of the vessel. She stopped. “Wait. Tyler, you don’t think this was a Beast attack, do you?”
“I don’t know, but we’d better check it out.” Tyler cinched his hood tighter, so that only his eyes and nose could be seen. His voice became muffled. “Let’s hope Thing just came back for a visit, and he and Reamer got into a fight.”
“Not a chance,” Opal replied instantly. “Thing’s too busy sending impossible messages.” She put a hand into her pocket, running her fingers over the rough-carved edges of the queen from the Darkdeep. She’d taken to carrying it around everywhere, though she couldn’t say why. Then Opal realized Tyler was eyeing her strangely.
“Um, yeah, Opal. I was kidding. I doubt Thing would sink boats in the harbor.”
Opal forced a smile. “I was joking, too.”
Tyler gave her an odd look, then shrugged. “Anyway, I want a closer look at the damage. Just in case we do have a Beast situation on our hands.”
Opal stiffened. “I think your dad’s coming over here.”
“Don’t worry, I got this.” Tyler cocked his head and called out. “Hey Dad! What a mess. Can we have a look?”
Terrence Watson nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead. “But don’t touch. The insurance people won’t like it.” He nodded to the waterlogged boat. “I think old Lemon Capers is finally done in. Alec Reamer is up in my office right now, talking to the money men. I hope he’s telling them a different story than he told me, or they might decide he’s crazy and not pay out his claim.”
Opal felt a chill run through her. “What’s he saying, Mr. Watson?”
Terrence shook his head. “I can hardly stand to repeat it. Alec says he woke up to find a bobcat prowling his foredeck. Scared him half to death. When we fished him out of the drink, he was babbling on about glowing yellow eyes. Said the cat went over the side when he yelled at it, then a dark shadow slammed into Lemon Capers and she started to list. I’d chalk the whole thing up to bad tacos and a weird dream, but something broke that hull.”
Opal’s breath caught. Yellow eyes. She thought of the wolf attack at school, but no one would confuse that shaggy mongrel with a bobcat, not even a groggy Alec Reamer. And neither animal looks remotely like the Beast, she realized. Still, something about the story worried her in a way she couldn’t quite name.
Tyler was squinting at his father. “So Mr. Reamer thinks … a large … cat … sank his fishing boat? Fifty yards out in the harbor?”
Terrence couldn’t help but chuckle. “I told you. He’d have better luck blaming it on the Beast. Or the Loch Ness Monster. My guess is, Alec set his anchor wrong or its line snapped, and he drifted onto the breakwater in this heavy breeze. Wouldn’t be the first time, but it’ll probably be the last.”
Mention of the Beast seemed to stir Tyler into action. “I’ve got to see this. We’ll be quick, I promise.”
“Hurry up, then. Sneak a peek. I feel terrible for old Alec, but you and I got cranberry sauce waiting for us at home. I’ll see if the folks inside need anything else from me. Meet me by the car in ten.”
“Thanks, Dad. We won’t touch anything, promise.”
Tyler waited until his father had entered the harbor office. Then he hurried over to the vessel, lifting a corner of the tarp. Opal eyed a gaping hole in the side of the ship. She was about to suggest they take pictures for their records, just in case, when Tyler ducked through the hull.
“Tyler!”
Opal went in after him. The fracture punched straight through to the hold, and she discovered they could stand upright. Light seeped in weakly around the edges of the plastic covering. “You promised not to touch anything?”
“I’m not,” Tyler said primly, putting his hands in his pockets. “But I never said I wouldn’t go inside.”
Opal was about to argue the honesty of that interpretation when a blast of wind rattled the boat. A spicy, peppery scent filled her nose, causing it to crinkle. Then her eyes popped. “Tyler, do you smell that?”
Tyler nodded slowly. “Just like at school. In the hallway when the wolf attacked. Weird.”
“More than weird,” Opal said quietly. “Suspicious. The same smell at two different animal confrontations?”
Tyler snorted. “What, you think the wolf and bobcat are working together? Is this the Cartoon Network?”
Opal gave him a flat look. “I’m just saying, it’s strange. Maybe something in the woods is causing wildlife to act aggressively. Like an invasive plant, or bad water. Or maybe … maybe …” Opal ran out of words. She gave up. “Okay, I don’t know. But don’t forget Reamer mentioned glowing yellow eyes.”
Tyler rubbed his neck nervously. “I was trying to forget that part.”
Opal was about to say more when Tyler swung his backpack around and unzipped the main pocket. “While we have a second, look at this. I was going to show it to Logan first—you’ll get why in a minute—but he texted back that he’s on his way out of town.”
“What?” Opal said, startled. “To where?”
Tyler grinned. “He said Yellowstone. Bought a seat right next to Nico and Emma.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
Opal imagined Nico’s face as Logan strode onto that flight. She shook her head. “Emma should be able to keep the peace, I guess. She’s good at that. But I can’t believe Logan’s dad let him go.” Opal dropped her voice. “You know, given … everything he said.”
Tyler spread his hands. “Maybe Mr. Nantes figures nothing matters anymore. Or maybe Logan pitched a sad story. Like, let me see the world before it ends!” He batted his eyelashes.
“Be serious.” Opal reached for the zip-locked bag Tyler was hol
ding out. Inside was a sheet of ancient paper, its corners practically crumbling. “What’s this?”
“Something I found wedged inside my Beast book,” Tyler said. “This document was jammed up into the spine near the back.”
Opal removed her phone and played its light over the weathered paper. “I wonder wh—”
Then she saw it. Halfway down, written in a firm, elegant script: Yvette Dumont, governess.
“It’s a ship’s manifest.” Tyler was on his tiptoes, peering over her shoulder. “Basically, just a passenger list. My dad dreams about finding a sunken treasure someday, so he likes to collect original records about shipwrecks. Logbooks. Insurance claims. Newspaper clippings, whatever. We’re both pretty into it. So I’ve seen one of these before.”
“Plus, it says MANIFEST right across the top.”
Tyler grinned. “Note the year of the voyage. 1741. And I like the name. The Dauphin.”
Opal pointed to where the page ended in a jagged tear. “Some names are missing.”
“Like every stupid thing we ever find. Incomplete. But it’s another set of facts for the fire.”
Opal began reading the list. “It looks like these passengers signed the manifest themselves.”
“History-book people had great handwriting,” Tyler said. “And better names. Lieutenant Commodore Caraway? That’s fire.”
“Tyler.” Opal glanced up, eyes bright. “This is great work! We have the roster of Yvette’s ship. The one that sunk back when it all started.”
“It’s definitely not nothing. Also, check out that stamp on the back. Guess who preserved this document for the Timbers archive? He must’ve found it washed up on shore or something.”
Opal flipped the page over. “Edward Nantes. Of course. Man, that guy was everywhere.”
Tyler chuckled. “That’s why he’s got a statue in town square, I guess. And why I was looking for Logan first. But you can keep that with your Dumont files if you want. I don’t have any use for non-Beast-related relics.”
“Thanks.” Opal carefully placed the document in her backpack. Outside, the wind moaned, and Lemon Capers tilted slightly.