his pocket and climbed up the wide stairway to the porch. He stood before a massive wooden door with a huge brass knocker in the shape of what looked like a mermaid, or was it a siren? He inserted the key marked "front door" in the lock and turned it apprehensively. Sure enough, he heard the bolt slide back. Conall pushed the door open and beheld a large foyer leading to a grand staircase which then rose to a mezzanine overlooking the central room on the first floor. There was floor to ceiling wood paneling like you might see in some English manor. The banisters were also ornately carved. Even so, it wasn't just a copy of an old English manor; many of the accents were Art Deco,access the island in spite of whatever the tide was. He was able to clamber down and inspect the beach, finding a circle of rocks with charred logs in the center. The empty beer cans and even some clothes strewn about made it clear the locals had staked this out as a party place. It bothered him this little slice of his fantasy world had been violated, but he could also see himself as being one of the teenage revelers.

By the time he got back to the manor he knew the tide was receding; he could probably leave the island. Conall locked up the house. He'd seen enough for one day and had a lot to think about. As he drove down the hill towards the causeway, he