The Torchbearers

by Ally Condie

  “I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Logan mumbled. “I wish people would believe me.”

  “I do.”

  But did she? Opal knew Logan had taunted Nico about his dad possibly getting shipped out of town, in what felt like a lifetime ago, back before they were all Torchbearers. He’d cornered Nico in the school cafeteria and really been a jerk. But they’d gotten over it and become friends since then, or so she’d thought.

  Nico clearly hadn’t forgiven everything.

  She and Logan continued toward the town center. Reaching the library, they found the place empty. Of course—it was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Opal sighed in relief that the building was even open. Old Lady Johnson, the librarian, must have as little else to do as Mrs. Cartwright in the Nantes museum.

  “Hello, Opal!” Emelda Johnson wore a red sweater with twinkling lights stitched across its front. The last time Opal had come by, the gray-haired librarian had worn an orange vest covered in sequined pilgrim hats. “Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?”

  “You bet,” Opal said with false cheer.

  “Probably our last,” Logan muttered.

  “Did you have a good holiday?” Opal said quickly, stepping slightly in front of him.

  “Oh my, yes,” Emelda said. “I still have my sister in town, so I’m afraid the library will be closing early today. You’re the only ones to come by anyway.”

  “We’ll be quick,” Opal promised.

  Ms. Johnson sat back down in her chair. “Go on ahead. But please don’t dawdle! I’m already hankering for a leftover turkey sandwich.”

  Opal led Logan toward a quiet corner of the building that housed a local history section. The creaky stacks smelled like old paper and polished wood. She passed the bulky leather chair where she’d spent hours reading as a kid, patting its arm like an old friend.

  “This is a waste of time,” Logan griped. “I definitely want to fact-check Aster’s story as much as you do, but what can we look at in here that we haven’t already?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Opal led him down a narrow, rarely used aisle. She pulled a dusty book from a shelf crammed with them, but replaced it after a cursory glance. Moving deeper into the gloom, Opal scanned the cracked spines and flaking titles, towing a reluctant Logan in her wake. Finally, she spotted what she was after: Shipwrecks of the Pacific Northwest. Within moments she’d located the correct chapter.

  “We’re not fact-checking the girl we rescued, Logan.” Opal felt weird phrasing it that way. “We’re merely seeking additional, corroborating information.”

  Logan sniffed. “You might be. I’m here to see if she’s telling the truth. I don’t trust her.”

  Opal shot him an icy glare. “Aster’s dad went down with the Dauphin, Logan. Maybe some of her friends, too. Can you imagine being trapped alone on another world, then coming back to find out everyone you knew was gone?”

  “Doesn’t mean she’s being honest.” Logan tapped the book in her hands. “Impress me.”

  “There’s only one page about the Dauphin.” Opal began reading aloud. “In 1741, a shipwreck occurred in Skagit Sound, near a stretch of coastline that would later be incorporated as the hamlet of Timbers, Washington. The only survivor, a governess named Yvette Dumont, became a founding settler in the area, but the vessel—a deep sea trader named the Dauphin—was a total loss. The only debris to ever wash ashore were empty trunks marked with the logo of the Dutch East India Company. How the Dauphin came to be in the region at all is an enduring mystery, as the company did not operate in the seas of the Pacific Northwest at that time. Throughout her long life, Ms. Dumont refused to speak publicly of her experience.”

  “You see?” Opal said, slapping the book closed. “When I read that passage earlier, I thought it was random trivia and not super useful. But those facts matter now—they confirm Aster’s story.”

  Logan looked skeptical. “That’s pretty weak info, Opal. There’s nothing about a whirlpool or anything.”

  Opal straightened her shoulders. “Most of the wreckage was probably sucked into the Rift along with Aster. That’s why almost nothing was found, not even those poor people’s bodies. What else could explain it?”

  Logan made a face. “Sharks.”

  “Gross.”

  Logan snorted. “For all we know, Dumont sunk the ship on purpose. Her story doesn’t totally check out, either.”

  Opal rolled her eyes. Then they nearly popped from her skull as she remembered something. “I forgot!”

  She dropped to a knee, ripped open her backpack, and removed the passenger manifest Tyler had discovered in his Beast book. The first name immediately caught her eye. “Tyler reminded me of this yesterday. Logan, look.” She stuck the sheet in his face. “The captain of the Dauphin is listed as Lieutenant Commodore Henri Caraway. It’s right here in black and white.” Opal ran her finger down the page. “And there she is—Aster Caraway, student, age fifteen.”

  “That’s what Tyler found?” Logan frowned at the list. “Okay. Fine. Unless she gave us a fake name.”

  Opal squeezed her fingers into balls, holding them up before her as she squinted at Logan in annoyance. “And what possible purpose would that serve?”

  “I dunno. Maybe she’s an outlaw. Or a pirate.” He snapped his fingers. “An outlaw pirate running from outlawed pirates.”

  “Genius. You’ve cracked the case.” Then Opal’s expression grew pensive. “Aster must’ve had a really interesting life.”

  “Lonely, if you ask me.”

  Opal glanced at Logan in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

  He shrugged. “If her story is true, it doesn’t feel like a happy one. Aster went to boarding school when she was just a little kid, and her dad captained for a global trading company. He was probably gone most of her life. I bet she begged onto that last voyage just to get to know him. Her mother definitely wouldn’t have been invited—not on an active trading vessel. Just this governess Dumont, whom we know wasn’t exactly Mary Poppins.”

  Opal quickly scanned the manifest. “No other Caraway is listed,” she confirmed, then looked at Logan. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

  Logan scratched his head. “Kids were often distanced from their parents back then. Aster has no siblings that we know of, and how do you make close friends when you’re shipped around the globe all the time? It’s not like they had cell phones to keep in touch. Like I said—lonely.”

  Opal placed the book back on the shelf. She’d think about what Logan said later. How did he understand Aster so well? The thought gave her pause. Did Logan feel lonely, like he assumed Aster did?

  “We should get going,” Logan said. “I don’t want to stand between Old Lady Johnson and her leftovers.”

  Opal shook her head to clear it. “Okay. So. We have double confirmation of Aster’s story—from a history book and the manifest. Her dad was captain of the Dauphin, a trading vessel for the Dutch East India Company that sank in Skagit Sound in 1741. Aster Caraway was also a passenger and thought to be lost at sea. Only she’s here with us, now, in Timbers.”

  Logan leaned back against a shelf. “It’s not like we have pictures proving it’s really her or anything.” At a glare from Opal he added, “But she does seem to be telling the truth. I’ll give you that. I just wish I knew what was bugging me about the whole thing.”

  “Opal? Logan?” Emelda Johnson’s round face appeared at the head of the aisle. “Time to go, please.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Opal strode quickly out of the stacks. She didn’t want anyone else thinking she was on a dating barrage with Logan Nantes.

  “It’s nice to see young people take an interest in this region’s history,” Mrs. Johnson said, smiling contentedly. “Maude mentioned that you two been by the timber museum.”

  Opal and Logan exchanged a glance. Great. The Timbers senior gossip network had noticed their interests. And associations. Opal’s face reddened slightly.

  “School pr
oject,” she explained with a hasty smile. “Extra credit.”

  “Even better when the schools get involved.” Reaching the entrance, the elderly librarian held open the door. “Button up those coats, dears. Wouldn’t want you to get wet. I hear there’s more nasty weather on the way.”

  Out on the steps, Opal turned to Logan. “So? Should we get the others?”

  Logan was tapping on his phone. He pulled up a website about the old Dutch East India Company and its logo appeared—a large, dark V superimposed over an O on the left and C on the right.

  “Let’s see if the owners of the Dauphin ever filed an insurance claim after it sank,” he said. “If a document like that exists somewhere, it’d list any lost cargo, and explain what the ship was supposed to be doing on its voyage. Then we could quiz Aster and see if her answers line up.”

  “How long do you plan on mistrusting her?” Opal shoved her hands into her pockets so she wouldn’t punch Logan in the arm. Why was he being the worst?

  “Until I’m 100 percent sure,” Logan replied. “We need to be more confident than ‘probably’ where the Darkdeep is concerned.”

  Opal grunted in exasperation. Turning her back on him, she pulled out her phone and messaged Nico.

  Aster’s story seems to check out. What have you and Tyler found?

  “Who are you texting?” Logan asked.

  Opal didn’t answer, popping her phone back into her pocket. “Let’s go.”

  They descended to a small courtyard beside the library. The snow on the grass hadn’t melted yet. In fact, it seemed not to be melting. Opal bent down to touch it. It wasn’t the heavy, wet snow they usually got in late fall, if they got any at all. This was powdery and fine, the kind you saw people slaloming through at the Olympics.

  “Opal,” Logan rasped in a strangled voice. “You’re not gonna believe this. She’s here!”

  “Who’s here? Another figment?” But a second later, she saw.

  Aster Caraway was strolling across town square, plain as day, hands tucked inside the jacket Opal had lent her, a wide-brimmed work hat covering her head. Where had she found that?

  I’m dreaming, Opal thought. But there was no mistaking Aster’s rigid bearing, or the old-fashioned boots on her feet.

  “What’s she doing here?!” Logan hissed. “We told her to stay on the houseboat!”

  “No idea. Come on.” Opal arrowed straight for the older girl. “Maybe she’s lost? Or got scared?”

  “You’d think everything about Timbers would freak her out.” Logan waved at the vehicles and businesses lining the park. “Like, she doesn’t even know about streetlights. How is she just cruising around, totally unfazed?”

  Opal scoffed. “She managed to survive alone on an alien planet in another dimension. I’m sure she’s seen worse.”

  “Well, let’s get her the heck out of here. Cool cucumber or not, she’s going to attract attention eventually.”

  “You’re right. Let’s hurry.” Opal began walking faster.

  A block ahead of them, Aster was casually peering around, glancing at store windows and a group of passing cyclists. Opal and Logan jogged past a gaggle of kids in parkas making snow angels, and a puffy, chubby dog wriggling joyfully in the drifts alongside them.

  Wait.

  Opal skidded to a stop. Swung around.

  “Weird-looking dog,” Logan said, also glancing back.

  Opal felt her pulse thump at her temples. “That’s no dog.”

  The wriggling creature had a wide, snuffly nose. Deep indigo fur. And very sharp teeth.

  Logan coughed into his fist. “Is … is that a—”

  “It’s a freaking Dog Beast.” Opal shook her head. “For crying out loud, Tyler.”

  Sensing their attention, the figment blinked ginormous black eyes at them. It was almost kind of cute, if you ignored the slathering jaws that could rip off an arm in one bite.

  “Right in the center of town. We have to dispel it!” Logan angled slowly toward the monster, a hand sliding into his jacket. “Hey buddy. Good boy. Here Beastie, Beastie.”

  The creature tilted its head at Logan. Then the Dog Beast yapped manically and took off across the park, bombing in the direction of a giant toddler snowball fight taking place near the monkey bars.

  Logan raced after it, calling over his shoulder. “Come on, Opal. Help me!”

  Opal glanced back at where Aster had been, but the girl was lost from sight. There was no choice to make. The figment had to take priority.

  But as Opal began sprinting after Logan, she could only think of one thing.

  What is Aster doing?

  19

  NICO

  Nico scampered back from the frigid surf.

  I can’t believe we’re doing this again.

  Tyler stood at the high-tide line, wrapped in his ceremonial scarlet bathrobe. Emma was side-stepping in a slow circle around him, recording on her phone as he lifted an algae-soaked stick with the Torchbearer’s Beast flag tied to its tip. Tyler had his eyes closed, as if in deep concentration, but he periodically shot annoyed glances at the unwelcome videographer.

  “Filming me is a terrible idea,” Tyler finally snapped at Emma. “What if your mom checks your phone?”

  “If this somehow works, don’t you want to know what you did right?” Emma pinched her fingers against the screen, then looked up with a calm smile. “Besides, I password protect. I’m not a noob.”

  “You can’t keep anything secure online,” Nico grumbled, popping his jacket collar to deflect the frosty breeze. “Yesterday I searched for a story about LeBron, and now my Instagram feed is nothing but basketball-shoe ads. Everything gets data-mined.”

  “Don’t forget the cloud!” Tyler added, hitching his dad’s terry-cloth robe farther up on his shoulders. “Everything goes into the cloud, and nobody has a clue what it is.”

  “You guys are so paranoid.” Emma began taking a panoramic shot of the motionless, fog-shrouded expanse of Still Cove. The beach was silent and cold. They rarely took the rowboat out to the island anymore—the tunnel was far more convenient than a back-breaking paddle across open water—but this was the second time Tyler had dragged Nico over the ridge that week. He was determined to contact the Beast.

  The Beast, however, didn’t seem as interested in a reunion.

  Nico watched Emma’s documentary efforts with growing irritation. “This better not wind up on your show, Emma.”

  Her head whipped to face him, blue eyes narrowing to slits. “Are you implying I would lie to you, Nico? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Nico felt his cheeks heat up. “No. But you haven’t exactly been mistake free when it comes to keeping Torchbearer secrets.”

  “Nice of you to remind me,” Emma replied coolly. She clicked her phone into rest mode and shoved it into her jeans. “When we miss a big moment, just remember it was your call.”

  Tyler resumed waving his totem overhead in a slow figure eight. “Beeeeast. Beeeeast,” he murmured, almost like a mantra. “Come on, big guy. Sun’s going down.”

  “It’s eleven thirty in the morning,” Nico muttered, confused.

  “Shush,” Tyler shot back. “I’m trying to connect on a metaphysical level.”

  “Kindred spirits.”

  “You don’t need to be here, Nico.”

  “You specifically asked me to be here, Tyler.”

  Emma snorted. “Maybe it is better I’m not recording this.”

  Tyler tossed his flag-stick to the wet sand. “This is pointless. I can’t do it. I’m no Beastmaster, and that’s all there is to say.”

  Nico felt a rush of sympathy for his friend. “Hey, we’re not even sure if the Beast is still around. He’s been missing since the Rift fight. He could be circling Taiwan right now, for all we know.”

  Tyler shook his head. “We both saw that wake last time, right at the end. It must’ve been him.” He slapped his hands together in frustration. “I bet Thing knows exactly how to do this. I wish we’d
had more time inside the Void. I’d have wrung answers from that little booger’s scrawny neck.”

  Emma sighed, kicking a loose pebble. “Well, I hope the Beast isn’t gone. It’d be a huge loss to the town.”

  Tyler whirled, losing his temper. “The Beast is not a tourist attraction, Emma. Or a cool story, or a way to get clicks. It’s a living, breathing being that saved our butts on that oil rig. Stop treating our most important ally as an object!”

  Emma’s face went beet-red, then very still, as if she were trying not to cry.

  Nico stared at Tyler. He’d never seen his friend blow up at Emma like that. Those two were as close as siblings. Maybe closer. But siblings fight. And when they do, it can be worse than anything. Arguments with his brother, Rob, had devolved into wrestling matches more times than Nico could count.

  Nico lifted his palms. “Okay, let’s all calm down. Maybe we should take a break from—”

  “I never treat the Beast like an object,” Emma seethed, practically spitting the words. She turned and stormed toward the forest, and the path leading back over the ridge that encircled the pond. She’d nearly reached the dark trunks when she stopped dead. Went rigid.

  Tyler reached a hand out toward her. “Emma, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

  “Shhhhhh!” Emma waved him off without turning.

  Nico chewed his bottom lip, at a loss. “Emma? Do you … are you okay?”

  “Just be quiet!” Emma hissed. “For like one single second!”

  Tyler seemed to bristle. “Look, I admit was rude, but it’s not like …” He trailed off, eyes going wide.

  Nico didn’t know what was going on. Then he heard the sand shift as Emma hauled butt back to where he and Tyler were standing. “Tell me someone brought a dagger!” she shouted.

  A heavy branch flew from the understory and landed in the water. Dark laughter followed.

  Colors and shadows began to flicker among the trees.

  Figments.

  “Not good,” Tyler whispered. “And no, we don’t have our daggers.”

  Emma gasped as shadows in the tree began to blend. “Where did these guys come from?”