“MAN, CHARLESTON WAS just silly with pirates.”

Coop cocked an ear, but quickly returned to chewing his rawhide.

“Well it’s true,” I said.

This time, not even a glance from the pup. Coop rolled onto his side, toppling a stack of reference books piled beside my desk.

“Watch it!” I scolded. “I’m not done with those yet.”

Since catching the altered parvovirus, I’d been researching like crazy. Behavioral studies of wolves. Canine anatomy and physiology. Viral epidemiology. I needed to learn everything I could about my new DNA.

The sudden flare at the yacht club had only increased my anxiety.

I’d decided to keep what happened to me a secret for the moment—the other Virals were worried enough already—but I had to find answers, and soon.

But that project had to take a backseat.

“Listen, dog-face, this stuff is interesting.” I tapped the computer screen. “Back when this city was known as Charles Town, it was a pirate magnet. They practically owned the place.”

Coop righted himself and, less than riveted, switched to gnawing the leg of my desk chair.

I swatted. Missed. Coop yipped once, then sauntered from my bedroom.

“Ungrateful mongrel,” I called after his retreating tail.

Safely back in my townhouse, I’d scoured the Internet for mentions of Anne Bonny. In the process, I’d unearthed a mountain of info on local buccaneers. Hundreds of links.

“This calls for backup,” I told the empty room.

Opening iChat, I checked to see who was available. Clicked Hi’s icon.

He’d recently switched avatars and was now the Green Lantern. I was still the Gray Wolf. Classics never die.

Wolf: Got a minute? I have a … plan? An idea. Sort of.

Green Lantern: Do I need life insurance?

Wolf: Haha. Come over now. Grab Shelton if you can.

Green Lantern: Boo. I thought you were hitting on me.

Wolf: Nope. Still intimidated by your good looks.

Green Lantern: Understandable.

Wolf: Try to grab Ben too.

Green Lantern: Will do.

Five minutes later, in strolled Shelton and Hi. Hi wore an eye-jarring orange Kool-Aid Man T-shirt, paired with khaki shorts. Shelton was sporting his favorite—a brown tee with “n00b” printed on it. Together, they looked like a Reese’s peanut butter cup.

Hi flopped on my bed and kicked off his shoes.

“Ahh! Lady pillows. So much fluffier than mine.” He took a giant whiff. “Why does everything girlie smell so delightful?”

“Because we acknowledge the importance of basic hygiene. And periodically clean our bathrooms.”

“Brilliant. I should write that down. After all, it takes a village.”

Shelton shook his head. “I’d never let him roll in my bed. I’ve seen his. Not pretty.”

“Believe me, I’m not thrilled.” I noticed Coop was missing. “Have you seen the dog?”

“On the prowl,” Shelton said. “He ran right by us.”

“Great.” Coop had snuck outside. Again.

“You try stopping that mutt when he wants to go somewhere,” Hi said. “I don’t get between wolves and their goals. Safer that way.”

“No biggie.”

Charleston has a leash law, but on Morris Island, what’s the point? Isolation is the one advantage to living so far out. Collared, tagged, and chipped, Coop wouldn’t be mistaken for a stray.

And by whom? The neighbors all knew Coop and had accepted him as my pet. To varying degrees.

The dog would return when hungry. Count on that.

“Ben’s on the dock changing an oil filter.” Mercifully, Hi abandoned my coverlet and moved to the ottoman. “I just shot him a text.”

“What’d you find, anyway?” Shelton slouched on my daybed by the window. Outside, the ocean steadily lapped the shore. “Hi said something about selling junk bonds?”

“Hilarious.” I hesitated. Was my idea any less crazy? But four eyes watched me expectantly.

“Have either of you ever heard of Anne Bonny?”

“Of course.” Shelton.

“Aye, matey! I knowest that foul female brigand!” Hi.

“Oh, good. I just found out about her.” I hedged. “Her story sounds fascinating.”

“She was awesome,” Shelton agreed. “There used to be lots of pirates around here. From, like, 1600 to 1750, this area was swarming with them.”

“The golden age of piracy!” Hi spread his hands wide. “Now you have to go to Somalia, and they use rocket launchers. That’s no fun.”

“I found a ton of stuff.” I chin-cocked the computer. “And was hoping you guys could help me sift through it.”

“Sure,” Shelton said automatically. “But why? Some kind of paper?”

“Did you know that Blackbeard himself was killed off the coast of Ocracoke, right here in the Carolinas?” Hi continued with his documentary shtick. “Ambushed, he fought valiantly, absorbing twenty sword wounds and five pistol shots.” Dramatic tonal shift. “When Blackbeard finally fell, the British navy hung his severed head from a bowsprit to prove that he was really dead.”

“Nice,” I said. “We didn’t study that in central Massachusetts.”

“Blackbeard was a master showman,” Hi added. “Long hair. Wild beard. He wore six pistols, a bunch of knives, and a cutlass. He’d work himself into a frenzy before battle to scare the crap out of his opponents.”

“Tricky, too,” Shelton added. “I read that he’d burn hemp rope under his hat to create a smoke cloud. When he attacked, his victims thought he was the real devil. Sailors would surrender at the sight of him. He wrecked shop all around here.”

“Don’t forget the siege,” Hi said. “In 1718, Blackbeard and another pirate named Stede Bonnet attacked so many ships around Charleston Harbor that the city closed down the port. Nobody got in or out for months.”

“Yikes,” I said. “Did Blackbeard kill everyone? Sink the ships?”

“Naw, but he took a lot of prisoners,” Shelton said. “He’d snag the bigwigs and hold them for ransom. Usually freed them unharmed if the bounty was paid.”

“Why is so much known about him?”

“Blackbeard was pardoned for a while,” Hi said. “Used his real name: Edward Teach. But the straight life didn’t take. You know what they say: once a hijacking, murdering, high-seas gangster …”

“That’s great,” I said, “but what about Anne Bonny?”

“Bonny?” Shelton’s face scrunched in thought. “She came from Ireland, I think. Rolled with Calico Jack, the pirate who stole Bonnet’s ship, Revenge.”

Hi resumed his TV-host baritone. “Master of both sword and pistol, Anne Bonny was a deadly fighter with a nasty temper. As a teenager, Bonny stabbed her serving maid.” Eyebrow flare. “As a pirate, she once undressed a fencing instructor using only her sword!”

Shelton broke in. “Anne Bonny pummeled any fool who hit on her without permission. She was definitely a badass.”

Inside, I smiled. I liked that.

“But that’s all small potatoes,” Shelton said. “She’s famous, really famous, because …” He stopped dead. “Wait.”

I met his gaze levelly. No point in being discrete now.

“No.” Shelton shook his head. “You can’t be serious. That’s your plan?”

“What plan?” Hi asked.

“You have a better idea?” I crossed my arms. Defiant. And a little self-conscious.

“But that’s not even a real plan. It’s a joke.” Shelton’s fingers found his left ear. Tugged. “Why not just chase rainbows looking for lucky charms?”

“What plan?” Hi repeated.

“I’m not claiming it’s a slam dunk,” I said.

“It’s not even a full-court shot,” Shelton said. “Blindfolded. Underhand. With a bowling ball.”

“We have to try something.”

“WHAT. PLAN?” Hi. Exasperated.

Ben walked in and popped the back of Hi’s head. “WHY. ARE. YOU. YELLING?”

“Wonderful.” Hi slid to the floor and rolled to his back. “First ignored, then attacked. I need new friends. And a lawyer.”

“You’ll survive.” Ben dropped into my lounger and crossed sneakered feet. His black T-shirt was stained with grease and oil. “Now answer the question.”

Sighing theatrically, Hi spoke to the ceiling. “Tory came up with one of her special schemes. Shelton thinks it’s insane, big shock there. Neither will tell me what they’re talking about. Then you came in and assaulted me. That’s all I got.”

“Brennan here thinks she’s found a way to solve our fiscal problem.” Shelton laid it on thick. “Easy! All we have to do is find Anne Bonny’s lost pirate treasure.”

Ben snorted.

Hi’s giggles rose from the floor. “Okay, that’s pretty nuts.”

My face burned, but I didn’t back down.

“Why is it so crazy? No one has ever found it, right? We need tons of cash, and we need it now. I’m open to other suggestions.” I cupped a palm to the side of my head. “All ears.”

Ben’s forehead crinkled. “You’re talking about finding buried treasure. You realize how absurd that is, right?”

“I do.”

“No one’s sure the treasure even exists,” Shelton said. “It could be an empty legend.”

Hi sat up. “Hundreds of people have searched. Experts. Geniuses. Dudes with elephant guns and funny hats.” He waved a hand. “It’s a myth.”

“Fine. Prove it. Help me research. Show me how foolish I’m being.”

Groans. Head shakes. The idea wasn’t a crowd pleaser.

“You’ve got better things to do?” I wheedled.

“I don’t,” Hi admitted. “I’m in.”

Ben rolled his eyes.

“Damn it, Hi.” Shelton sighed. “Now we’re all doomed.”

“Hey, pirates are awesome.” Hi shrugged. “I don’t mind reading up on them. I thirst for knowledge.”

“There’s an old Sewee legend about Bonny’s treasure,” Ben said.

“All Sewee legends are old,” Hi quipped.

Ben crooked two fingers, daring him to say more. Hi wisely refused the bait.

“Supposedly,” Ben continued, “Bonny stashed her loot around the time my ancestors were forced into the Catawba tribe. I’ve only heard a little of the story.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Tell us.”

“I don’t know it by heart. Something about the devil and red fire. I could ask my great uncle.”

“Please do,” I said. “You never know what might help.”

“I can do you one better,” Shelton said. “I read there’s a map.”

“A treasure map!” Hi rubbed his hands together. “Now we’re talking. This’ll be easier than a trip to the ATM.”

“So where is it?” I asked.

Two googles later, we had the answer.