Revel (35 page)

The whirlpool swirled; through it I could see a parade of monstrous faces that gnashed their teeth at me. Spiked tails flicked in and out, coming ever closer. Jax had once told me the Aitros were immune to the poison of the Glaukos spikes. I hoped I was Aitros enough for that to be true now.

I closed my eyes and raised my face from the center of the swirling eddy.

“Listen to me.”

I remembered what Kephalos had said. It wasn’t about the decibels. I had to focus my thoughts on what I wanted. I couldn’t just scream a command at them. They needed calming. They needed strength. What could I possibly say that would reach them?

Or maybe I could sing. Old school, as Kephalos had called it. But what?

Of course. There was only one. How many times had they heard it in the Snug? They would all know it.

In a low, wavering voice I began:

Focus.
My voice is my will
.

I closed my eyes and tried to put into my voice everything that was good about Trespass. The strength and courage, the independence. Everything these men had lost. They had had to rely on the trapweed for strength. Now that was gone.

I had to give them something else.

Everything was quiet. I opened my eyes.

The Glaukos stood waist-deep in the water. Line after line of them. There were hundreds. Their black hunched forms were still and the agonized screams in their own strange language had stopped. They stood exhausted, transfixed.

They were listening to me.

Sean stepped forward. He looked so different from the
handsome young guy I’d first seen hauling traps onto his boat. His body was darker and bulkier and the bones of his face stood out too starkly. But his eyes were the same warm brown. And they were kind and strong. It was really Sean.

I hugged him close to me.

“Tell me what you want us to do,” he said. “I can make them understand now. I’ll help.”

CHAPTER 39
 

T
he Glaukos fought off the Icers, all of them, driving them from the beaches and from the waters around Trespass. They fought beside the First Ones and islanders as the free men they were. The Glaukos responded to my song,
their song
, with honor and courage. By morning they had cleared the beach of the dead bodies of the Icers and all was quiet.

But by morning everything else had changed too. The pretty island of Trespass was gone. Or at least, it was nothing like it had been before. For once, Wreck Beach looked its name. It was covered with debris. Shattered trees, their roots yanked from the earth in massive wedges of soil, rolled in on the surf. The homes that had once lined the cliffs were no more than piles of lumber. The dock and most of the fishing
boats had been destroyed. Vast portions of the interior of the island had simply collapsed and were still settling.

And according to reports, the Hundred Hands was gone. The stone coral reef that had entrapped so many sailors over the decades had simply disappeared.

The reef wasn’t the only thing that was missing.

No one had seen Ben Deare since the night before.

I had a theory about that. Or a prayer. It was possible that opening the Archelon had somehow broken the curse that held him tied to Trespass Island. Maybe the crew of the
Dover
was resting now, with their faithful captain, Benjamin Deare. I would miss Ben, but I hoped that he’d found peace.

As the weary survivors gathered on Wreck Beach, they were joined by the very beings who had once tried to oppress them. The First Ones gathered here too. Many, including Mikos, had died fighting the Icers, as Lukus told me when he stepped onto the beach. The clan leader looked so different from when I had seen him last. His glittering garments were reduced to bloody rags, and the losses from his people were evident in the lines of pain across his face.

The clan would have to be told of Xarras’s betrayal, but not today. And certainly not by me. For now it would be enough to deal with other things. Because with the destruction of the underground sea tunnels and caves, the Aitros were essentially homeless. As were the islanders.

I sat on a fallen pine tree, watching the waves and wondering again at the sea’s amazing changes. It was the most
beautiful color I’d ever seen. A soft turquoise blue, with diamonds of sunlight on every ripple.

A familiar form ran toward me down the beach and I laughed, then winced at the pain in my lips. It was Buddy. The dog sniffed his way around me and then pushed his head into my armpit until I put my arms around him. “I’m glad to see you too,” I murmured into his fur.

Sean stood before me. “Buddy, down.”

I didn’t want to stare at Sean, but I couldn’t help it. His skin was darkly burnished to a coppery brown. He’d lost nearly all of his hair, but his skull was finely molded and still very human-looking. Still he moved with the same ease that he’d always had. And his eyes held none of the stark yellow gleam of the Glaukos.

He was alive. It was enough. But I wondered what changes the trapweed had made inside. And if they were permanent. Would he ever be the same again? Dumb question. None of us would.

“What will you do now?” I asked him.

Sean sat beside me and leaned back, his eyes on the sea. “We’ll rebuild. It’ll be home again. For all of us. Buddy. Dude. Cut it out,” he said, laughing and nearly losing his balance against the canine show of affection.

I smiled at the two of them. It was definitely Sean. The heart of him, anyway.

Reilly and Zuzu appeared, walking down the beach. Reilly’s lanky form seemed to dwarf Zuzu’s, and he kept a protective arm around her shoulder.

“You’re both okay?” I asked anxiously.

Zuzu lifted her chin with a spark of her old sassy attitude. “Of course we’re okay. It would take more than a few Icers to mess with Reilly and me. Ouch.” She rubbed a bruise on her elbow.

“Easy there, warrior princess,” said Reilly in a gently chiding tone. “Why don’t you sit down. Take a load off.”

My eyes searched the water. I hadn’t seen Jax since he’d created the whirlpool to protect me from the Glaukos. Where was he?

I couldn’t think about what might have happened. I wouldn’t let my mind go there. He had to be okay. In the trauma of the past day’s events there had been no time to tell him—

Please. Let him be okay
.

Restless, I stood and went to Gran, who sat on a driftwood log nearby. Her braid was disheveled, with gray hair sticking out in all directions, but otherwise she looked remarkably okay. She held a piece of rope in her hand. “Might as well get busy tying a net,” she muttered, settling her elbows on her knees and tossing the rope with expert turns. “We could catch some crabs for dinner.” She looked around. “Ed Barney,” she called out, squinting her good eye at the mayor. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and build a fire over there? There’s a good man.”

“Shouldn’t you rest, Gran?” I asked, giving her a hug.

“Nonsense. I never felt better. And there’s all these folks to feed.”

Maybe my grandmother had some supernatural powers of her own. I nodded. “Just keep going, right?”

“That’s right,” she said with a smile.

Something made me turn suddenly back to the water. A sense. A knowing.

The moment Jax emerged from the sea I felt my heart contract in one sudden, fierce beat of joy. I leapt up and ran to him.

I splashed through the waves and hugged him so hard that I knocked both of us into the water. He smiled, then held me on his chest as he floated on his back. His blue eyes searched my face soberly.

“You look very happy this morning,” he said. “Does causing mass destruction always please you so much?”

“I’m sorry. I had no choice but to open the Archelon. It was the only way—” I broke off.

“To save my life.”

“Yes,” I said softly. “And it turns out that it was nothing. The legends of some great power source left by the gods were nothing but stories.”

“There is power here,” said Jax with a thoughtful gaze around us. “More than even my father could have ever imagined. Your own transformation is evidence of it. Will you stay here and help me find it, my siren?”

“Your siren?” I asked, making my expression dubious, even as my insides were humming with pleasure.

“My Lander, then,” he murmured, touching his lips gently to mine.

I shook my head. “Sorry. We’re going to drop the whole First Ones and Landers thing around here. We’re going to live together, work together. One big happy dysfunctional family.”

“Then there is only one thing left to call you.”

“Not your she-devil.” I planted my hands on his chest and pushed, sending him under the surface.

Jax laughed, then shook his head, sending sparkling droplets of the sea from his hair. He stood up and wrapped his arms around me.
“Kardia mou,”
he whispered, kissing the corner of my mouth with a gentle, grazing caress. “My heart.” He touched a finger as lightly as a breath to the wounds on my upper and lower lips, and his expression darkened.

“If only I could undo this,” he said.

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t want you to. The marks will be there to remind me.”

“Of what?”

“To never let anyone silence me again.”

He touched his forehead to mine. “They would be fools to try.”

Maybe it had been a mistake for me to come to Trespass Island. But there was no place in the world I would ever love more. And it would be home again someday. To all of us.

It seemed only natural I would feel salt water on my face as Jax held me close. But it was warm, and it flowed from my eyes.

I was home. No mistake.

Even a labor of love is, well,
a labor
. For this book, however, my labor was made infinitely lighter by the help of many. To my agent, Ted Malawer of the Upstart Crow Literary Agency, many warm thanks for your superb insights, unflagging enthusiasm, and expertise. You’re simply a treasure. To my Delacorte Press editor, Michelle Poploff, and her assistant, Rebecca Short, thank you for seeing the story before it was even there, encouraging me to find it and then making it so much better. Also to Trish Parcell, who designed the beautiful cover that brings this story to life in a magical way, thank you. To my wonderful writing friends and critique partners: Angie Frazier, Sonia Gensler, Kim Harrington, and Dawn Metcalf, thank you all for the inspiration, kicks in the butt, advice, and sometimes even brownies. To my long-distance-but-never-forgotten friend of writing and so much more, Marissa Goodell, thank you for allowing me to borrow a name and make up my own little jewel. I’d also like to thank my family. To Ronald and Pat Guibord, my terrific in-laws: you’ve always been a blessing to me; thank you for everything. Lastly, thanks go to my husband, Ron, and my kids, Luke, Genny and Danielle. Without your support and tolerance of an untidy house and lots of take-out, this book would not exist. I love you all.

Maurissa Guibord
has been addicted to stories since she read
The Three Musketeers
in seventh grade and fell in love with d’Artagnan. Since then she’s been infatuated with lots of fictional characters, and now things have progressed to the point where she’s writing about them. Her first book for young adults was
Warped
. Maurissa lives on the coast of Maine with her three children, her husband, and a black cat named Shady. Please visit her website at
maurissaguibord.com
.