Ben was standing by the fireplace, while Chance and Shelton knelt on the floor by the safe.
Chance noticed me first. “Nice shades. Trying to keep up with the Kardashians?”
Ben and Shelton tensed. Realizing.
“Headache.” I saw Chance in razor-sharp detail, could make out a single bead of perspiration on his left temple. “I’m very light sensitive.”
“Let’s search the house,” Hi said too loudly. “If someone changed the combination, maybe they wrote it down.”
“And left it lying around?” Chance scoffed. “That’d be incredibly stupid.”
“It’s worth a look.” Shelton hopped to his feet.
“Okay.” Ben was looking at Hi, but his words were directed at me. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.” Hi over-nodded. “Trust me.”
“You guys are way too serious,” Chance said. “I’ll check the master bedroom.”
“I’ll hang here.” I tried to sound spur-of-the-moment, but I’m the worst actress on earth. “Maybe try my luck with the safe.”
“Don’t waste your time,” Chance said. “That demon isn’t opening without dynamite.”
The boys dispersed, pretending to scour the cabin. I sat cross-legged in front of the safe, honed my ears to block out distractions, and rotated the dial a full circuit.
Not a sound.
On impulse, I chugged my water and placed the rim of the glass against the safe’s door. Pressing an ear against its bottom, I closed my eyes and gave the knob a second go.
This time, I heard a very faint ticking. I nudged the dial, straining to pick up the slightest variation.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Clink.
My eyes darted to the dial. 24. Okay. Score one for Chance.
I reset the wheel to zero. Moving counterclockwise, I repeated the painstaking process.
Tick. Tick.
Clink.
12! Two-thirds of the combination was mine.
I was jogging the dial back to zero when Chance emerged from the hallway.
“Pointless, as I knew—” He halted at the sight of me. “You’re listening through a drinking glass? What are you, nine years old?”
“Give me a minute before you scoff.” Barely breathing, I worked back across the wheel.
My straining ears registered air moving in and out of Chance’s nose, my own heartbeat, waves lapping outside the cabin. But the lock remained silent.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I sensed the other Virals drift back into the room.
I’d almost completed the final circuit when I heard it.
Clink.
Yes! 36. I had all three.
Time to close shop.
SNUP.
The power drained way. Thankfully, I was already seated. When the weakness subsided, I removed my sunglasses and rubbed my eyes.
“I have it,” I said. “The numbers are 24-12-36.”
“But 12 and 36 aren’t multiples of 8. It doesn’t fit the—” Chance stopped, went squinty eyed in thought. “Shoot. Maybe it was multiples of twelve.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Ben snorted. “Thanks for nothing.”
“Like you’ve never forgotten anything,” Chance shot back. “I’m on medication!”
I tried the digits in numerical order. The handle turned and the door swung open.
The safe’s interior was divided into levels.
Our prize rested on a red velvet cloth on the top shelf.
Anne Bonny’s cross was slender and delicate, beautifully carved from a single piece of cherry wood. The upright was two feet long, with the horizontal bar crossing six inches below the apex. The central ring formed a perfect circle at the point where the two parts intersected. A clear crystalline substance filled the space between arms and ring, causing the cross’s heart to sparkle in the lamplight.
Gracefully, uniquely, and perplexingly, the top tine curved gently to the right.
“That’s it,” Shelton breathed. “That’s the symbol on the treasure map.”
“Treasure map?” Chance didn’t miss it.
“Shelton, I swear, you’d make the worst secret agent in history.” Hi smacked his forehead. “Dead within hours. I’d probably off you myself.”
“Talk about this map,” Chance pressed.
No one spoke.
“Hey! I did my part. You promised to explain if I produced the cross.” Chance waved a hand at the safe. “Voilà! There it is!”
“This cross may be tied to Anne Bonny’s lost treasure,” I said.
Choosing my words carefully, I gave Chance a sanitized version of the events of the last few days. The other Virals listened in perturbed silence. But a deal is a deal.
“Wow. I didn’t see that coming,” Chance said when I’d finished. “Where’d you find the map?”
“On eBay,” Ben said. “Treasure map section. We paid the Buy It Now price.”
Chance ignored him. “And there was nothing at the end of the tunnels?”
“Only a goofy poem,” Shelton said. “Tory’s getting it translated.”
Wince. Cursing a blue streak, I reached for my iPhone.
“What?” Hi said.
“I’m such a dope.” I scrolled through my unread email. “Aunt Tempe sent me her translation two days ago. I fell asleep and forgot all about it.”
Finding the message, I read aloud:
On the moon’s high day, seek Island People.
Stand the high watch, hold to thy faith, and look to the sea.
Let a clear heart guide you through the field of bones.
“Great.” Shelton tugged an earlobe. “Now what the frig does that mean?”
“It says ‘island people’?” Ben sounded excited. For Ben.
“Yep.” I double-checked. “Both words capitalized. ‘On the moon’s high day, seek Island People.’”
“Moon’s high day!” Ben’s eyes gleamed. “That must be another full moon reference, like in the Sewee legend. ‘When the night sky burned as daytime.’”
“Sounds reasonable,” I agreed. “But how does that help?”
“And who are the island people?” Hi asked.
“I don’t think it’s a who.” Too agitated to stay still, Ben began pacing. “When I was a kid, my grandfather would take me fishing. Wherever we stopped, he’d teach me the old Sewee name for the place. He never accepted European changes.”
“Progressive,” Chance muttered.
Ben was too absorbed to notice. “One I remember—an island named Oneiscau.”
“Wonderful,” Chance said. “Let’s plan a cruise.”
“I think we should.” Ben stopped pacing. “In Sewee, Oneiscau translates to ‘Island People.’”
We all stared in shock.
I recovered first. “Which island?”
“No idea.” Ben shook his head in frustration. “My grandfather died when I was eight. But I remember seeing it once in a book about Charleston’s barrier islands.”
Hands fumbled for smartphones and began tapping furiously.
“How do you spell that?” Hi asked. “Sounds like a lot of vowels.”
“Got it!” Shelton won. “It’s Bull Island!”
“That’s close!” Ben exclaimed. “Just two islands north of here.”
“Oneiscau was renamed Bull after a colonial leader,” Shelton read. “Right about the time Bonny was hijacking ships in the area. She’d have known both names.”
“Bull Island borders Sewee Bay,” Ben added. “Smack in the heart of ancestral Sewee territory. Most of the tribe lived near there.”
“If Bonny operated that close to Sewee villages,” Shelton said, “a tribal legend would make sense. Ben’s story could be dead on.”