Free Revel by Maurissa Guibord

of years ago by the first sailors who wrecked here. They came from a boat called the
Dover
. We follow the rules and we live in peace.”
    “So what are the rules?”
    Gran’s face relaxed into a faint smile and her gray eyes softened. For a moment I saw what a pretty woman she must have been when she was younger. I wondered at what she’d been through in her life to make her seem so rough and hardened.
    Oh yeah. I forgot. She lived
here
.
    “Don’t make it sound so terrible. There’s plenty of time for learning your way around. Now that you’re staying.”
    “But you wanted me off the island. I thought it was too dangerous.”
    Gran raised her hands in a gesture of futility. “I thought you could leave before they knew about you. But now, you have no choice.”
    “What are you talking about?” I rubbed at my head and sat up. “That’s ridiculous. They can’t keep people here if they don’t want to stay.”
    “Hush now.” Gran’s eyes glanced to the partly opened window beside us. “Don’t talk like that. The First Ones are very powerful.”
    Her words brought back the image of a dark-haired angel with gleaming eyes. He didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt me. In fact, he’d saved me. Or had it been Sean who saved me? It was hard to remember, everything was so fuzzy and mixed up.
    “You’ll grow to love it here,” Gran went on quietly. “You’ll see. You’re home now.”
    Home
. Wasn’t that exactly what I’d wanted when I’d come here? A place where I could fit in, make friends and find my grandmother? But now …
    This was a place of nightmares and monsters, surrounded on every side by water. And I was a prisoner.
    How could I ever be at home on Trespass?

    The next day I woke to sunshine streaming through the bedroom window and the sound of a bird chirping outside. The smell of something delicious and baked drifted to my nose, and I smiled. I sat up and groaned, feeling my head throb. “Oh yeah.” I touched the tender lump over my right eye. Sea monsters. Island. Demigods. Check.
    I’d slept late, I realized, and went downstairs to find a note from Gran on the kitchen table next to a plate of blueberry muffins. It said,
Gone to work. You should rest
.
    Work? Gran had never mentioned anything about a job. I was surprised she hadn’t left me any other words on what I should do. Maybe she’d thought I’d want to stay in bed, but I was far too restless to let a bump on my head confine me.
    I fixed some strong tea and had a muffin for breakfast, then wandered around the small house for a little while. It was very plain and sparsely furnished, though the walls were decorated with lots of framed needlework pieces. On the mantel was a black-and-white photo of a handsome man with slicked-back dark hair. His shining eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned at the camera. This must have been my grandfather, Charles McGovern.
    It must have been very lonely for Gran here for all these years. I wondered if she’d ever considered leaving the island herself. She seemed like such a strong, determined person. If my mother had been able to escape, surely others had too.
    I stood and walked over to the bookshelves, tilting myhead to read the titles. Luckily, I didn’t need my glasses for reading, only driving. And it seemed like I wouldn’t be doing much of
that
here. Unless you counted a golf cart.
    Gran’s books were a pretty varied assortment. Two Grishams. Danielle Steel. Agatha Christie. Audubon bird-watching.
Fish Species of the North Atlantic
. My finger stopped at a burgundy-colored hardcover book with faded lettering.
    “History of Trespass Island,”
I read, pulling it out. “As recorded by Reverend Archibald Trent.”
    In the front there was a black-and-white photo of the author, dated 1962. He was a smiling silver-haired man with thick horn-rimmed glasses. Beneath his picture the caption read, “This book is dedicated to our brave and seafaring ancestors.”
    “Yeah, they would have to