by Ally Condie
“The houseboat,” Emma said, still impatient. “We know that already.”
“Besides the houseboat.” Logan folded his arms. “He only put Nantes family stuff down there. I’m talking about Order things—Torchbearer items he might feel too guilty to risk damaging.”
Tyler tilted his head forward, eyeing Logan in annoyance. “Maybe just tell us, bro.”
“I’ll give you a clue.” The corners of his mouth quirked. “Our old buddy Roman Hale.”
Opal thought of the skeleton they’d found in a ravine on the island. A shudder ran through her.
“Hold on.” Tyler’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you saying that your father killed Roman Hale?”
“No!” Logan barked, his brow forming an angry V. “Jeez, Ty. Real nice.”
Tyler blushed. “Sorry! But you’re being very confusing, okay?”
Logan glanced around, then continued. “Look, remember how we found Hale’s private stuff stacked neatly in a storage bin? My dad could’ve thrown those things away after the guy went missing, but he didn’t. He preserved them for some reason.”
“Ohhhh,” Emma said, raising an index finger. “In the company warehouse.” They’d snuck into the huge building once before, locating Hale’s personal effects and a critical piece of Torchbearer history. Could other secrets be hidden there, too?
Logan crossed his arms, his expression growing serious. “My dad may hate the Order, but he didn’t sabotage it when he had the chance. Not with Hale, anyway. So maybe he’s stashed more Torchbearer goodies away, just to be safe.”
Aster glanced from face to face, as if watching a five-way tennis match. She spread her arms wide. “We need to visit this place, yes? This is clear?”
“It’s a long shot,” Logan admitted.
“Still a shot, though,” Opal said firmly. “Let’s take it.”
27
NICO
Slush was piling up on the warehouse roof.
The winter storm had struck out of nowhere—a sudden deluge of golfball-sized hail followed by a torrent of white, instantly covering the ground in a mantle of brittle, crackling ice. As Nico crouched behind the rear wheels of a parked tractor-trailer—its cargo bed stacked ten feet high with sawed planks headed for Seattle—he marveled again at the extreme weather.
But Aster said the Stalker is causing it. How is that possible?
Logan was ahead of the group, near the truck’s front end. He peered around its fender, eyes locked on a garage door accessing the Nantes Timber Company’s main storage facility. It was the biggest structure in the whole county, yet the building seemed strangely empty. Nico guessed everyone had gone home to avoid the blizzard.
Nico’s pocket buzzed, nearly giving him a heart attack. He removed his phone and frowned at the message.
Warren Holland wanted to know why his son wasn’t home.
“My mom texted me too,” Opal whispered, reading over his shoulder. “I’ve got thirty minutes before I’m toast for not writing back.”
“I’ve got ten,” Tyler hissed from the rear bumper. “Maybe.”
“Then let’s get moving already!” Emma scuttled up beside Logan and tapped his shoulder. He jerked around in annoyance, then pointed to something Nico couldn’t see, whispering irritably.
Emma scurried back to join the others. “Logan says to wait one more sec. A truck is leaving now. His dad’s inside the cab, so Logan thinks it’s the last group. The driver just rolled down the loading dock door, but Logan doesn’t think she secured it.”
He was right. When they reached the rear of the warehouse—following Logan’s hunched run across the icy parking lot like a line of stealthy ducks—the latch to the door wasn’t padlocked. The workers obviously weren’t worried about a break-in and hadn’t wanted to dig around in the snow. Logan heaved the barrier up a couple feet and they all slipped inside.
The door dropped with a loud clang, engulfing the group in pitch black. For a nervy moment Nico was reminded of the Darkdeep. Then halogen lights on the ceiling blazed to life. Logan was over by the wall, glancing around furtively, clearly hoping no one was left inside the building to notice.
“Big,” Aster said in a small voice, looking around. “What could such an edifice be used for?”
“Lumber,” Opal explained, wiping snow from her jeans. “Half the plywood in Washington comes from here.”
“Okay, we’re inside,” Nico said, then grudgingly added, “Good work, Logan. Where to now?”
Logan rubbed his chin. “Hale’s gear was in the Unclaimed Items room, but that time we had a locker number and knew where to look. For a blind search …” His expression soured. “This place is huge. If my dad hid something in the main stacks at random, we have almost no chance of finding it.”
Tyler’s brow dipped, but then he snapped his fingers. “Your dad wouldn’t want Torchbearer stuff discovered by accident. Even in here, workers must root around in most areas eventually. He’d keep something ultra-private squirreled away where only he could stumble onto it. Know any places like that?”
“Just one,” Logan answered thoughtfully. “His private office in the back of the warehouse. Obviously, no one goes in there without his permission.”
“Until now,” Emma quipped. “Let’s burgle it.”
Logan nodded. He led them down the center aisle, between massive stacks of shelving. The room stretched for almost a quarter mile, with every manner of lumber product filling the metal racks, alongside woodworking tools and oil-coated industrial equipment. Nico often forgot what a giant undertaking the Nantes Timber Company was. This was clearly a multimillion-dollar operation.
Finally, they reached the far end of the chamber, where a steel door was set into a movable wall. Logan tested the knob, then turned it, waving everyone inside. The lights were off. The place had a vacant feel.
Logan flipped another switch. “The executive section is in the very back. Come on.”
They moved down a narrow walkway with a carpet runner extending over the concrete floor. The shelves here were smaller and more office-like. Nico glanced at the row marked “Unclaimed Items,” where weeks ago they’d found Hale’s cylinder.
Remember when our problems were that simple?
The aisle ended at another door. Logan reached up and ran his fingers along the top of the frame. There was a jangle as something small and metal hit the floor.
Emma scooped up a key and handed it to Logan. He unlocked the door and they all crammed through it. A short, wide hallway stretched before them, with a half-dozen rooms to each side and a wooden door at the opposite end. A name was painted on it: SYLVAIN NANTES, PRESIDENT & CEO.
It was also locked, but Logan dug into his jacket and removed an old key ring. “This was my grandfather’s set,” he explained. “I snagged them from my house a few days ago, just in case. I doubt my dad ever actually got around to changing these deadbolts, but we’ll—” He broke off as his hand turned smoothly and the door opened.
Inside, the office was disappointingly drab. The walls were bare except for a giant map of the greater Timbers area, with the acres being harvested outlined in blue. Red slashes covered large swathes of the region. Nico’s spirits sank. Those sections were labeled “Protected” in angry block letters. Compliments of Warren Holland’s work to protect spotted owls.
A desk sat at the back of the room. Two chairs faced it, flanking a small table. Beat-up metal filing cabinets lined the right wall. A row of bookshelves filled the opposite side. If something precious had been stashed in there, its first defense would be the complete lack of any indication that a valuable object would be left in such a dingy workspace.
Aster crossed her arms with a frown. “This is where the solution to everything resides?”
“It was just a guess,” Logan snapped, rubbing his necklace. “This is one of the only spaces my father has complete control over. No one else uses it, and even he doesn’t come here much. His main office is in the corporate building, down by the shore
.”
“Well, no point wasting time,” Nico said, trying to hide his disappointment. “Let’s spread out and look everywhere.”
“I’ll check the filing cabinets,” Opal offered. Tyler moved to join her, and soon they were thumbing through reams of dog-eared files. None of it looked very interesting to Nico.
Emma and Aster began examining the bookshelves, leaving Sylvain Nantes’ battered desk to Nico and Logan. They started on opposite sides of the swivel chair, each pretending the other didn’t exist. The top drawers yielded nothing of interest. Nico moved to the lower compartment on his side while Logan began fiddling with the center console. But in minutes it was clear—the desk was a bust.
The rest of the group had finished their searches as well, and everyone grew quiet. Nico didn’t know what they’d hoped to find, and they’d uncovered nothing worth the trip. Bleakness pressed down on his shoulders like a wet blanket.
“Welp,” Tyler said awkwardly. “Do we search the lost items room?” His voice didn’t carry much enthusiasm.
Nico was about to suggest they cut their losses when Aster pointed to the giant map. “This drawing, it is stuck to the wall? Perhaps with paste?”
“Tape, probably.” Logan stepped closer. “Actually, it’s pinned to a bulletin board behind it.”
Aster cocked her head. “This board, it does not move?”
Nico blinked. “Why would it move?”
Aster gave him a patronizing look. “To hide something behind it, Nicolas. Like a safe. Or perhaps a secret window.” She shrugged. “We do such things in France.”
Logan smirked and rolled his eyes, but he ran a hand along the underside of the board. To his complete astonishment, something clicked and the map swung away from the wall. Nico gaped at the empty space behind it.
“You see?” Aster said smugly. “Not so different, I think.”
Everyone crowded close to see. Nico expected to find a safe there, like Aster had said, but the hidden niche was too shallow for one. Instead, a stack of three rolled parchments filled the compartment.
“Bingo,” Emma breathed.
Logan removed the documents and hurried to the desk, then carefully unrolled the first. He let out a low whistle.
“Another map!” Opal said excitingly.
“Maps behind maps,” Tyler joked. “Why not?”
Delicate cartography depicted the entire world, but a much older version of it, littered with nations that no longer existed. Fifteen red circles were marked across its face, including one over the Washington coast.
“Rifts!” Emma crowed. “We’ve got them all now!”
“We can crosscheck this against the list and what we found in the Yellowstone cave,” Nico said excitedly.
“You mean what I deciphered on the houseboat,” Aster countered.
Logan moved to the next scroll. He wasn’t speaking, and Nico noticed that his hands were shaking. How many secrets did Sylvain Nantes possess? Nico felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Logan, which surprised him.
The next parchment was less interesting—a drawing of the Darkdeep. Skillfully done, but ultimately just a piece of art. Everyone cooed over it for a moment before Logan set it aside. The last parchment seemed older and more brittle. Larger, too, at least double the width of the other two scrolls. Logan carefully unrolled it, weighing down its corners with objects on the desk. Seeing the ancient document held open by a Swingline stapler and a box of ballpoint pens gave Nico a weird dizzy sensation. Worlds are colliding.
The writing on the page was hard to decipher. Then Nico abruptly realized it was in French. He scanned to the bottom of the page, and recognized a signature. Yvette Dumont.
“Make room,” Aster blurted, shoving past Nico to examine the crinkly document. “I know that handwriting. My governess wrote this.” She read in silence for a moment, her lips moving slightly. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Then Aster stepped back and hastily wiped them away.
“What does it say?” Emma pressed, barely containing her impatience.
“Nothing of use,” Aster said dismissively. “Madame Dumont merely talks about the well.”
Tyler frowned. “The Darkdeep? I’d say that’s of use, fam.”
Aster hissed in vexation, but began to read aloud. “ ‘The Deepness is a singularity on this planet. There is no feature like it at any of the other Rift locations. Dax is unaware of any such vortex on its world, either. Therefore, it is my belief that the Deepness is unique, and uniquely powerful.’ You see? Of no import.”
“Translate it all, please.” Nico was staring at the page. There were three more paragraphs, and he didn’t think Aster had read them all the first time.
Aster’s glare found the ceiling. “Fine. But my governess was never careless. She would not have trusted a great secret to pen and paper.” She lowered her head and resumed. “ ‘The Deepness is of the local Rift, yet also not. It is a peculiar place outside the bounds of the emptiness beyond. I believe that a sentient being traveling the Deepness may be able to access thousands of worlds and in-between spaces from inside it. For that reason, it must never fall into unsafe hands.’ ”
Aster glanced up, her annoyance gone. This did seem to mean something.
What, Nico wasn’t sure. But he felt a creeping apprehension seize his insides. He swallowed. “Is that all?”
“There is one last section. ‘The Deepness can create from mere thought, and therefore must be guarded. A being able to harness the power of the Deepness, and use it to travel the strands of space and time, would be unstoppable. For this reason, an Order must be established to protect against such a catastrophe. I shall be its first member.’ The page is then signed by Yvette Dumont.”
Nico went cold all over. “She’s saying the Darkdeep could be used as a weapon.”
Opal’s face had gone white. “One that must never fall into the wrong hands.”
“You guys?” Tyler said slowly. “We’ve never really asked ourselves why the Eater is so determined to get here. He’s been turned away at least once already. Maybe more times. You’d think he would try an easier world to conquer, right?”
Logan stiffened. “Unless we have something the monster desperately wants.”
Emma made a squeak. “The Eater could use the Darkdeep to travel anywhere it pleases. Unlimited access to vulnerable worlds.”
“Think of the figments such a monster might make,” Aster whispered. “Minions called into being at will.”
Nico’s gaze shifted to the drawing, still lying unrolled on the desk.
The black depths of the Darkdeep stared back at him.
A weapon.
One unique to the universe?
And impossible to stop.
“The Eater wants the Darkdeep,” Nico breathed. “He’s coming to take it from us.”
28
OPAL
This is it. No going back.
A sick gurgle roiled Opal’s stomach. She ignored it, zipping her backpack closed while taking deep breaths. If anyone peeked into the bag, they’d probably think she was stowing away on an ocean-bound steamer ship. Blanket. Waterproof matches. Goggles. Flashlight. First-aid kit. Her leather notebook was sealed inside a series of overlapping plastic bags.
I’m not running away from home. I’m protecting it.
She’d never climbed out her bedroom window before. Never made a fake person in her bed the way teenagers did in cheesy movies. But an Opal-sized clump of pillows was now artfully propped underneath her heaviest quilt. And outside in the yard, a boy was waiting.
Quit stalling.
Opal slid the window open and climbed out onto the gently sloping roof. Stepping carefully across its ice-slick surface, she shimmied down an ivy-covered trestle bolted to the side of her house. Nico was right where he’d said he would be—in the bushes opposite the porch. He flashed a thumbs-up.
“The others?” Opal whispered.
“Already headed for the cove. We’ll make our plans there.” He led Opal down to
Overlook Row, then arrowed across the street for a copse of fir trees in the park, where they’d stashed their bikes.
So far, so good.
“They left without us?” Opal hissed, glancing at her watch. She was five minutes late. It had taken longer than she’d expected for the lights to go off in her parents’ room.
“Tyler got antsy,” Nico said, as they began silently pedaling up the empty street. “Everyone just wants to get this over with.” He paused, a hint of strain entering his voice. “Whatever this might be.”
The night was frigid. A sandpaper wind bit at Opal’s cheeks, kicking up snow that had fallen earlier. She shivered, glancing back at her house as it shrank behind them—dark now, the homey lights doused, its yellow exterior appearing blue-gray in the moonlight.
“Back soon,” she whispered.
I hope.
They arrived only minutes after the others. Topping the ridge, Opal spied several flashlight-wielding profiles crossing the stepping stones out to the houseboat. When she and Nico entered the showroom, an operation was in full swing.
Logan and Emma were going through the weapons chest, muttering over various daggers before setting them in piles. Aster was comparing her world map to the one Sylvain Nantes had kept hidden in his office. Opal heard water splashing somewhere down below.
“Good news,” Logan said, without looking up. “We have six less figments to worry about, thanks to my intrepid leadership during the advance party.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “He accidentally stepped on one. I don’t know who was controlling the Darkdeep’s creative processor when we went through yesterday, but this round was easy-peasy. After Logan screamed in terror and fell backward down the slope, Ty, Aster, and I mopped up a mini-version of King Kong, Squidward, a talking protractor, three dancing croissants, WALL-E, and a cartoon sloth.”
Logan nodded. “An emphatic victory powered by my inspirational heroism.”
Aster gave him a flat look. “You screamed, ran into a tree, and ripped your pants.”
Logan’s ears reddened. “I was taking the fight to the enemy. You’re welcome.”