“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. Then I saw that his left arm was hanging by his side in a sling. “What happened to you?”
He grimaced. “The First Ones were none too pleased about me bringing you, miss. The Council had their Glaukos guards give me a talking-to.”
“A talking-to?” I repeated softly. I could see a brown stain on the edge of the gauze on his wrist. I jumped onto the boat beside him. “It looks like more than just talking. Ben, you’re bleeding! They hurt you just because you brought me here?”
“St. Cuthbert save us,” he muttered, adjusting the bandage and hiding it from my view. “It’s not that bad, miss. They could’ve done a lot worse. Just wish they hadn’t set the Glauks on my poor boat is all.”
“I’m so sorry.” The words seemed lame in view of what had happened. “I had no idea you would get hurt. Or your boat. If I’d known—”
Ben snorted. “Pshaw.” His pointy chin jutted up until it nearly met his nose in a defiant expression. “I’ll be fine.” He patted a hand to the boat’s railing. “And she’ll be all right too,” he added, as if that was somehow more important. He surveyed the Belores with affection in his flinty blue eyes. “It would take more than a few Glauks to pull Bellie down. And there’s no need to blame yourself. I brought you here because it was the right thing to do.”
The back of my throat burned with dull anger, and with the words I would’ve liked to use against whoever had hurt Ben. That probably wouldn’t help him, though, and maybe it would make things worse.
And I’d even been thinking about asking him to take me back to Portland if his boat was fixed. But I could never ask that of him now. I couldn’t ask it of anyone, not if this was the way the First Ones punished disobedience.
“Can I do something to help you?” I asked.
“I can’t plane this smooth with only one hand,” Ben admitted, tapping a plank with one foot. “I’d be obliged.”
Ben showed me what to do, and so I learned how to use a planer to even out the new planks. I enjoyed the feel of the sun on my shoulders as well as the smell of the fragrant curls of wood that piled up beside me. Ben watched me work with hawklike attention, directing my efforts until a particular spot was smoothed to his satisfaction. After we’d worked for a while, I paused and sat cross-legged on the deck. The gentle rocking motion of the Belores beneath me was soothing.
“If I’m going to stay here, Ben, I want to know more about the island.” I brushed sawdust from the plank I’d just finished. “The only map I could find that even had this place on it was in an old book about New England legends. And the only sentence in the book that mentioned Trespass Island was about buried treasures.”
No wonder the ticket agent in Portland had acted so strangely when I produced those gold coins. They would have been enough to get any treasure hunter excited.
Ben didn’t react, only rubbed an assessing hand over a place where two boards met. “So,” I prompted, “is there a buried treasure?”
Ben shrugged. “Oh, there’s treasure here right enough. But not the way most people think. The First Ones don’t care too much about gold or jewels. They have as much as they want of that stuff, you see? Every treasure chest ever lost at the bottom of the sea is open to them. No. They protect what they see as the real treasure of this island.”
“And what’s that?”
“Something called the Archelon. It’s buried deep inside the heart of Trespass. They say that the Archelon contains the power of Poseidon himself. He left it here, and here it will remain, until the old gods return to reclaim their world.”
“And when is that going to happen?”
“No one knows that, miss,” said Ben. “But they wait.” He squinted out to the water. “We all wait.”
There was something so resigned and sad in his voice. “Really?” I asked. “What are you waiting for, Ben?”
“Waiting for you to get back to work, that’s what,” he said with a waggle of his free hand at the next plank.
I sighed and kneeled over it, scraping carefully. “Yesterday a woman on the beach freaked out when she saw me. Someone named Sophia Clark.”
“Yep,” he answered. “I heard something got her upset. You shouldn’t pay her too much mind.” Ben tapped a finger to the side of his head. “What did she say, anyway?”
I hesitated. “She said a monster is coming.”
“Well, no wonder everyone’s in a bunch.”
“And she said I’m bringing it here. And back in Portland, when I threw those bones, you said you saw a monster in my future. So what is this monster? Did you mean the Glaukos? Or the First Ones? Or something else?”
Ben took off his cap. “I just read the portents, miss. I don’t know all the answers as to what they mean. World’s full of monsters. We’ve got a big whirlpool called the Tor about four miles due southeast of Trespass. It’s a whirlpool they say goes down to the bowels of the Earth. And all sorts of beasts live at the bottom. Imprisoned there in olden days by Poseidon himself.”
I grimaced. “He left stuff all over the place, didn’t he?”
“Joke all you want. Some of these stories are true.”
“So why should this Sophia Clark think I have anything to do with monsters?” I asked. “She acted like she was actually afraid of me.”
“I don’t know,” Ben grumbled. “But it don’t matter. You’re meant to be here. The portents said so. Look out there, now you’ve missed a spot.”
Portents. Monsters. Buried treasure.
Trespass Island was not exactly the ideal spot for a summer vacation. I didn’t belong here. But could I leave? Noooo.
It was early afternoon by the time I finished helping Ben, and the sun blazed with the kind of heat that raises tingles on your skin. I walked down the slope of dune to the beach near Gran’s house and decided to explore in the opposite direction from the one I’d been before. There were hardly any waves, and quiet sheets of water rolled to meet my feet as I kicked broken shells along the sand.
If only my mother were here. She would have been able to tell me what to do, how to fit in here. But did I even want to fit in here?
I came to the end of the beach—or at least, as far as I could walk. An irregular wall of black rocks rose and protruded onto the sand, blocking the way. I reached out and touched the craggy surface. It was a strange-looking rock, with tiny holes in it. Like pumice. I had seen something similar—where was it? In the earth sciences lab at school.
“Volcanic,” I murmured, running a hand over the sharp edges.
Since when did the New England coastline have volcanoes? It was official: everything about this island was impossible.
Something shiny lay at my feet when I turned around. It was my glasses, with beads of seawater still clinging to them. How had these suddenly appeared? Looking around, I saw that the beach was empty and mine were the only footsteps in the sand. I turned toward the sea and saw him in the water.
It was the angel. The one who’d kissed me beneath the dark water.
A fin flashed silvery in the sunlight and he disappeared almost instantly, ducking below the surface without a splash or a sound.
“Wait!” I called. “Don’t go.”
His dark head emerged from the water, much closer now. How had he moved through the water so fast? He wasn’t bobbing or sweeping his arms. It was as if the water simply parted around him, supporting him.
“You require those lenses for your vision,” he said. “I’ve returned them to you.”
“Thank you.” I picked up my glasses, wiped the lenses with the bottom of my T-shirt and put them on, immediately feeling more comfortable.
Above the water and in daylight and now with my glasses, I really saw Jax for the first time.
He wasn’t handsome. And not even faintly angelic.
His nose was aquiline but flattened and widened at the bridge, as if it’d been broken and mended badly, giving his face a leonine look. His mouth was firm, with narrow, uncompromising lips. Black ha
ir hung in messy waves nearly to his shoulders. His eyes were the same brilliant blue that I remembered and of such a strange, deep intensity that I felt I could get lost in them.
But how did I ever imagine him as an angel? His wasn’t a face you’d see in a Renaissance painting. Unless it was at the bottom, where they depicted hell. Yes, he looked like he’d be down there, mixing it up with the sinners and brawlers.
“You’re the one who saved me,” I said softly. “A First One.”
“My name is Jax,” he answered, swimming closer. “I am of the Aitros clan. Landers call us the First Ones.” His voice was deep and resonant. It was the same voice that had warned me away from the water three nights ago on the moonlit beach.
“Landers?” I finally asked.
“You.” There was a faintly derisive curl of his mouth as he tossed his blunt, square chin in my direction. “Air-bound mortals. Humans.” His gaze swept over me. “I’m surprised to see you in the water so quickly.”
“I’m not in the water.” Then, looking down, I realized that I was. Water curled around my ankles, and my feet were sunk into the sand. How did that happen? I wriggled free and splashed back to the sand.
“You’ve recovered from your accident?” Jax asked. His tone was formal and courteously distant.
“Um.” Unbidden, the memory of his lips against mine came back so clearly, it was almost a physical sensation.
I pressed my lips together, trying to erase the thought as heat flooded my cheeks. “I didn’t have an accident,” I said, fumbling to adjust the right earpiece of my glasses; it seemed to be bent out of shape and—oh, great—tangled in my hair. “I was dumped overboard, remember?”
“You came here without permission,” replied Jax. “The Lander Gunn did not have authority to transport you. Just as Ben Deare did not have authority to bring you.”
“So you decided to sink Sean’s boat?” I retorted. “Very mature. Is that how they do things on Olympus these days?”
Oh, not wise.
It was as if a storm cloud had come into his eyes, they went so dark, and his voice was the unexpected clap of thunder that makes you jump. “If I had decided to sink that frail husk,” he snarled, “it would be another shell on the floor of the sea. That was not my intent. The Glaukos are clumsy creatures.” His voice fell to an irritable grumble. “But they meant you no harm. The creature responsible will be punished.”
“Punished? There’s no need for that. It was just an accident. I’m fine. You … saved me. Thank you.”
Jax frowned. Instead of saying “You’re welcome” or “Don’t mention it,” he looked as if my owing him my life annoyed him. A lot. Maybe he resented having to give a mere mortal mouth-to-mouth. Although from what I could tell, he’d seemed to enjoy it at the time.
“There is something strange about your voice,” he said, as if wanting to change the subject. “You don’t speak like the Landers here.”
I blinked through my glasses. They still didn’t seem quite right; everything looked a little fuzzy. “Probably my accent. I’m from Kansas.”
“Where is this Kansas Island?”
“It’s not an island,” I laughed. “It’s a state.”
He straightened, rising a little from the water. “Every piece of earth is an island. Some are merely bigger than others.”
He didn’t seem accustomed to being laughed at. Or talking to people, for that matter. “I guess that’s true,” I said. “I’m sorry. I really don’t mean to be rude, but can you walk? I mean … do you have a tail?”
In reply he strode out of the water toward me, moving so fast that I backed up in surprise.
Why can’t you learn to keep your mouth shut, Delia?
“You’re fortunate that you risk this impertinence with me rather than one of the elders,” he said. His eyes sparked with blue fire. “They’re not so tolerant of Landers. No. We do not have tails.”
Jax had a body. A very human, very male body a little over average height with a trim, muscular build. And I was grateful that part of it was covered with a dark blue garment tied around his hips. A long knife hung from his side. Handle and blade appeared to be fashioned from one gleaming, rippled mass of silver. It was fastened with a piece of leather to his powerfully carved thigh.
“We are descended from Poseidon, who had legs. Two of them,” he added. “Only the children of Triton have tails. Which is very lucky for you. They like land meat. Even such a small portion.”
“Good to know,” I whispered, taking in other details. He had a shimmering green fin protruding from his back—the same segmented, elaborately scaled fin that I had mistaken for a wing in my loopy condition under the water. But within moments of emerging from the water, the fin flattened and disappeared, leaving only three spiny raised bumps along his upper back.
“Wow.” I felt a little breathless. Where was my inhaler? I couldn’t remember where I’d left it. Please don’t let me have an asthma attack now. I took a slow, steady breath. “That’s an amazing trick.”
“On land we look as you do,” said Jax. “In the sea our form changes. It is no trick.”
I nodded. In daylight I saw what the moonlight had hidden. His chest was perfectly molded but crisscrossed with ugly scars that stood out pale against his sun-bronzed skin. I was curious about what could have made such wounds. But I thought it would have been rude to ask him.
But you had no problem asking him if he had a tail, did you?
My mind worked in weird ways sometimes.
From what I could see, only small things kept Jax from looking completely human: his hands and feet had thin webs at the base of the digits. But even these retracted as he stood before me, until they were barely visible. And on his flatly planed abdomen two vertical slits interrupted the muscles on either side of his belly button. They rippled with each breath he took.
Gills. The guy has gills. Interesting. For some reason I found it hard to tear my eyes away. He seemed full of energy and strength. It glowed in the rich golden color of his skin and the fierce intelligence of his eyes. It was almost as if I could feel the radiant heat warming me. But his face was somber.
“Do you find me dazzling, Lander?” asked Jax with a contemptuous curl of his narrow mouth.
“No,” I said. “I mean … what?”
“You’re staring.”
“Sorry.” Embarrassed, I looked away and felt a blush color my cheeks. “I just never saw anyone like you before. What are you exactly?” That sounded rude. “I mean, what are the Aitros?” I asked. “Where did you come from?”
“We are demigods. Lineage of Poseidon,” he said. “We originated in the Ionian Sea, near an island the humans call Corfu.”
“And how did you ever come to Maine, so far away?”
Jax’s brilliant blue eyes transfixed me. “Once, the children of Poseidon could be found in all the waters of this world. But the time of man came, and as the old gods left us, the demigods dwindled away. Eventually only a few strongholds remained where the waters retained the power of our ancestors.” He shrugged. “Our powers become diminished the farther we swim from this island. A source of the old power rests inside it.”
“The Archelon,” I murmured.
“Yes,” said Jax, leveling a sharp gaze on me. “What do you know of this?”
“Ben Deare told me some of the stories about the island.”
Jax nodded. “To humans they are only stories. Even to some of my people, the old gods have become distant memories. Stories.”
But obviously the young man standing before me was all too real. He looked like a descendant of Poseidon, born of something ancient and powerful. But in a way he was trapped here too.
“What powers?” I asked.
Jax shrugged. “Compared to Landers we are stronger and faster. We live longer but are not immortal. We have some abilities in the water that you might see as supernatural.”
He held a hand over the water and murmured something under his breath. Immediately the water ben
eath his hand began to churn and a thick fog rose from the surface to drift in delicate swirls around his fingers. He waved it away with a careless gesture.
“You create the mist that surrounds the island. To keep outsiders away.”
He nodded. “And if they become too persistent, we sometimes must resort to other means.” He cupped one hand and swept it through the water. A ripple coursed away, against the tide, traveling in the direction of the open sea. As I watched, the ripple rose higher, becoming a racing, glassy slope. Finally it crested, a dark wall of water twenty feet high. It slammed down with the sound of a thunderclap, creating a momentary craterlike depression in the sea before dispersing.
I stared as the tumult of roiling, bubbling water subsided. “You wreck ships,” I whispered.
“Not nearly as many as we used to,” replied Jax, his voice almost regretful. “The island has a reputation for treacherous seas and a deadly reef. People know to stay away. Most people,” he added, looking at me. There was a spark of challenging amusement in the slight lift of his eyebrow and the curve of his mouth.
“You don’t think very much of people, do you?”
Jax watched me. “They serve their purpose. As long as they know their place.”
Our place? His condescending tone put my back up.
“If we’re so far beneath you, why are you talking to me?”
He folded his arms across his chest. Once again my eyes were drawn to the network of scars that disfigured the smooth, broad muscles.
“I do what pleases me,” he said slowly. “When it pleases me.”
If I hadn’t seen him underwater, I might have laughed at the proud angle of his shoulders, the arrogant lift of his chin as he spoke. But I had seen him. Up close and really personal. And I might have drowned if he hadn’t intervened.
“Why did you tell me to stay out of the water? That was you, wasn’t it?”
Jax nodded brusquely. “Landers have their own beach, your people should have told you. And why do you question the orders of a First One?”
“Orders? I thought it was just advice.”
Revel Page 8