Found her.
Opal hit send and put her phone away. She was lurking behind a van parked across the street from Pacific Pizza. She’d located Aster only a moment before—the girl from another time was glued to the restaurant’s front window, and seemed to be breathing in the smells.
Opal’s stomach growled. She clapped a hand over it. There’d been no time for lunch.
Maybe that’s why she left the houseboat. Did Aster simply crave better food than the snacks they’d left her?
Opal didn’t think so. Even as she watched, Aster turned from the storefront and looked around, a canvas tote bag draped over one shoulder. Opal was sure Aster hadn’t been carrying it earlier that afternoon, before the figment appeared. Where had it come from? What was inside it?
Aster glanced up at the sky, as if she were trying to estimate the time of day. Opal got the distinct impression she was on the hunt for something else—something specific. But what?
Opal’s phone vibrated. A response from Logan: Where?? Tie her to a lamppost!
Hoping to cover more ground, she and Logan had split up after running down and dispelling the Dog Beast. And it worked—Logan had caught sight of Aster first, outside the Custom House. He’d called Opal after spotting the older girl waltzing out the front doors, as calm as could be. Then she’d somehow given him the slip. They were determined not to lose her again.
Opal studied Aster. She was still wearing that ridiculous floppy hat, yet somehow pulled it off. No one was taking much notice of her. Aster’s confidence helped her blend in with the crowd. The girl has guts.
Aster didn’t seem fazed by the modern chaos surrounding her. Opal was amazed she’d managed to locate Timbers at all—the town was five miles north of Still Cove, and it wasn’t like there were road signs pointing the way. Plus, how did Aster locate the secret tunnel off the island? Or had she used the rowboat? Opal wasn’t sure whether they’d left it on the beach or not. So many questions.
That’s why Opal elected to hang back a bit and observe her quarry. She hoped Aster would decide to return to the houseboat on her own, but the girl didn’t seem in any hurry to leave town.
And what’s inside that stupid bag? Tell me she didn’t go shoplifting!
The door to the pizzeria opened and Aster stepped deftly away. Opal’s heart skipped a beat. Evan Martinez exited and began attaching three large boxes to the back of his bicycle. Opal dove completely behind the van to avoid being seen. But she couldn’t resist peeking once again.
He’s a delivery boy now? Maybe I should get a job there, too.
Evan straddled his bike and pulled on his helmet, adjusting the strap. Quick as a wink, Aster’s hands darted out. She grabbed the top pizza box and slipped it from the pile, then ducked into a narrow alley beside the store as Evan pedaled away.
Opal stifled a laugh. Wow. Poor Evan when he got to his delivery.
But Aster can’t just go around stealing. Opal was about to cross the street and tell her so when Aster reappeared with the pilfered pizza and began strolling down the block, acting natural, like she’d done nothing wrong and had every right to be there. Smack dab in the middle of Timbers, almost three hundred years after she’d been born in France.
Opal texted Logan: Town Square. Bring handcuffs.
“What are you doing?” a voice demanded suddenly.
She wheeled to find Carson Brandt looming behind her. His sunburned face was shot through with pale splotches, and freckles stood out on his nose. Carson’s sandy hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in days.
Opal felt sorry for the guy. He’d seen the worst of Dark Halloween, and it was definitely haunting him.
“Just looking for a friend.” Opal tried to smile politely and brush past him at the same time. She spotted Aster at one of the picnic tables near the square’s small pavilion, eating her stolen meal with evident pleasure.
“You mean Holland?” Carson whispered a bit too loud. He and Parker used to torment Nico alongside Logan, but Carson’s eyes were weirdly hopeful at the moment. “I need to find him, too.”
Opal stopped short. “You do? Why?”
“He and Logan … they helped me that night on the beach.” Carson’s eyes were restless, as if he couldn’t stop them from moving. “This crazy sphinx thing was attacking me, but Nico knew what to do. He knows about nature. It’s even, like, his dad’s job.” Carson stepped closer to Opal and dropped his voice even lower. “Strange stuff is still happening, Opal. This morning, I swear I saw some kind of dog monster playing in the snow. I have to talk to Nico.”
Opal stole a glance back into the park. Aster had nearly finished the whole pizza. She rose, leaving the crust-filled box on the table—first larceny, now littering!—and strode toward the woods at the north end of the park. Then Opal spotted Logan over by the swings, panting and tugging on the knees of his jeans. Their eyes met as Aster vanished into the trees.
Logan pointed at Aster and gave a thumbs-up, trotting for the snow-covered woods.
Opal realized Carson was still standing right next to her, eyeing her with rekindled suspicion.
“Carson, I have to go, okay? Take it easy.”
“Wait!” His hands balled into fists, desperation edging his voice. “Tell Nico I really need to speak with him! I was wrong to fight against you guys. We need to join forces and form a plan.”
“Will do.” Opal pointed in the opposite direction of where Aster and Logan had gone. “And hey, I think I just saw Emma heading down toward the docks. Maybe she knows where Nico is. Gotta go!”
When Carson looked away, Opal darted across the street and up the block, skirting town square plaza. Reaching the forest, she scurried over to the trail that Aster and Logan had taken. Winter-brittle branches dumped wet snow on Opal’s head as she pushed through the foliage. She rounded a corner and emerged into a clearing, nearly running smack into Logan and Aster, who were standing there facing each other.
Arms crossed, Aster was casually leaning one shoulder against a tree. Logan yawned, hands in his pockets, attempting to mirror her blasé.
“Hello,” Aster greeted Opal, without a hint of surprise. “Logan and I were just discussing the importance of respecting personal space.”
Logan chuckled dryly. “Our new friend here doesn’t like being followed.”
He sounded almost … charmed. That stupid French accent.
Opal suddenly felt guilty. “We weren’t following you.”
Aster raised an eyebrow. Opal’s face heated up like a furnace.
“Not at first,” Opal amended awkwardly. “But you were supposed to stay on the houseboat!”
“I already asked what she’s doing in town.” Logan was still playing it cool. “Apparently, she’s having a look-see.”
Aster nodded. “I am being a—how do you say? Sight-goer? Is that the right word?”
“Not quite.” Logan coughed into his fist. “We usually say ‘tourist’ now, but ‘sightseer’ works too. So what’s in the bag? Kind of hard to shop when you don’t have any money.”
“I found a few things that interest me.” A smear of tomato sauce daubed Aster’s chin, but she still sounded refined. “I like exploring my surroundings whenever possible. My father always urged me to experience a place as if one lived there. Go where they go. Eat the foods they enjoy.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist. “He taught me to see a place as it is, instead of how others might wish it to be.”
Sadness infused Aster’s voice as she spoke of her father. Opal felt a yank at her heartstrings, but also something else.
Distrust.
She didn’t think Aster was telling the whole truth.
“We should return to the boat,” Opal said diplomatically. “It’s not safe for you out here.”
Aster pouted slightly. “But I have not finished my tourist.”
“Tour,” Logan corrected with a grin. He was clearly warming to the girl.
Opal tried to be reasonable. No one liked feeling like a captive. “What else would you like to see? We can show you around ourselves.” She pivoted on the trail. “Shall we visit the timber museum? The marina?”
“You’ve already visited the Custom House,” Logan slid in. “Interesting choice.”
Aster’s expression sharpened, then smoothed to a pleasant blankness. “Perhaps another time. It is a long way back, and that exquisite meal—what is it called?—has made me tired.”
The meal you stole. But Opal just smiled encouragingly.
“It’s called pizza,” Logan blurted. “Pepperoni pizza is the best.”
“Pizza,” Aster repeated, as if tasting the word. “Wonderful. Do they serve it every day?”
Logan nodded vigorously. The kid was all over the place.
“How’d you get here from the Cove?” Opal asked. The question had been driving her nuts.
“I have been reading to make my boredom less.” Aster removed a hand-drawn map from her pocket. Not the shoulder bag, Opal noted.
“This was on the house-ship,” Aster continued. “I believe friend Tyler is the artist. It depicts your secret tunnel and a path toward the town. Timbers.”
“Pretty gutsy to follow it all by yourself.” Opal pulled her jacket tighter against the chill. “But not smart. The town is in a frenzy these days, and strangers attract notice.”
“I was careful,” Aster replied indulgently. She locked eyes with Opal. “Unless I am a … prisoner?”
“Of course not!” Opal sputtered. She heard Logan’s chuckle as he covered his mouth. “It’s just … we don’t want anything bad to happen. Staying on the houseboat is simply a precaution.”
Aster tilted her head. “Staying near the bottomless black well that leads to a fissure between worlds is … the safest place for me?”
Logan bit his lip. “Um.”
Before Opal could reply—and she wasn’t sure how she was going to—Aster lifted her palms in a gesture of acquiescence. “I understand, of course. I will stay aboard the ship. Especially if you bring more pizza.” She smiled, eyes twinkling.
“No problem!” Logan said. Opal imagined him paddling out to the island with a delivery box wedged in the rowboat and resisted an urge to roll her eyes.
“Should we all head back now?” Opal said hopefully.
“Do not trouble yourselves.” Aster pulled the bag tighter, waving her other hand in a semi-bow. “I have a talent for navigation. I never get lost.”
Opal’s voice hardened. “It’s no trouble. Really. We want to make sure you arrive there safe and sound.”
And they did. Opal and Logan walked Aster every step of the way, over the hills, through the underground tunnel, and down to the stepping stones across the pond. At the houseboat’s front door, Aster paused. “Would you like to come inside?”
Opal felt a stab of resentment. She was inviting them in?
“I have to go home,” Opal said, trying to regain the upper ground. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Aster nodded, gently shutting the door. Not quite in their faces, but close enough.
“I wonder if she’d like a cheeseburger?” Logan mused, nearly losing his footing as they hopped back across the stepping stones. “I could bring one by tomorrow, so she could try it out.”
Opal rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I can hardly wait.”
Logan snorted. She ignored him, glancing back at the houseboat.
A lamp glimmered in the bay window, outlining a lone silhouette.
Aster was watching them leave.