IRE ENTERED THE room carrying a glass of water. Hi trailed stiffly behind me.

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.”

“Both poem and legend mention a field of bones,” I said. “I don’t know what that means, but the similarity lends credit to each reference.”

Hi pocketed his phone. “FYI, the full moon is tomorrow night.”

“Then we need to be there,” Chance said firmly. “Could be our only shot.”

No one responded.

Chance glanced from face to face. “What?”

“You’re not coming,” Ben said. “Not in this lifetime.”

“Of course I am.” Chance reached into the safe and removed the cross. “This is mine. If you need it to find buried treasure, I’m in.”

“We don’t need the cross,” Shelton said. “Not for sure.”

Chance’s smile held zero warmth. “I’ll call the police the moment you walk out that door.”

“They’ll haul you right back to the Crazy Town Inn,” Hi pointed out. “The cops must be looking for you right now.”

And me, I thought glumly.

Marsh Point would be frantic to find Chance. Who had they already contacted? The police? Bolton Prep? Kit? The awful possibilities tightened my gut.

Chance shrugged. “This lovely jaunt won’t last anyway. Do you think I plan to live as a fugitive forever?” He snorted. “I’m a Claybourne. I was bored, but I’m not stupid.”

“What you are is delusional.” Ben fumed. “The treasure belongs to us.”

Chance’s hands found his hips. “Cut me out, and I’ll make sure you get nothing.”

Unexpectedly, twin yellow beams flashed across the room.

“Headlights,” Chance warned. “In the driveway.”

“Kill the lamps!” Ben ordered.

Shelton and Hi did. Then we huddled in total darkness.

“Who uses this place?” I whispered.

“No one. My father’s in prison, as you well know. And the servants don’t come after dark.”

The front doorknob jiggled.

Chance rose. “If some lowlife thinks he can rob me, he’s about to learn a harsh lesson.”

I grabbed his arm. “We didn’t tell you everything! Someone’s been following us. And whoever it is fired shots down in the tunnels.”

Chance dropped back into a crouch. “Guns? Seriously?”

“Yes. So let’s sneak out the way we came.”

“Someone’s at the back door!” Shelton hissed from behind me. “We’re trapped!”

Glass shattered in the kitchen.

My heart pounded. “Is there another way?”

“The basement.” Chance tucked the cross under his belt. “Follow me!”

We raced down a hallway to a steep, narrow staircase. Descending at full speed, we reached a dark earth-floored cellar.

“This way.” Snatching a flashlight from a shelf, Chance hurried to a pair of wooden doors on the back wall.

“Tunnel.” Chance yanked one side open. “This cabin was originally part of the Underground Railroad for escaped slaves.”

“Where does it lead?” Shelton asked. He’d clearly had enough of tunnels.

“The boathouse. Fifty feet.”

Something rattled at the top of the stairs.

“Go!” I whispered.

We slipped into the passage, and Chance pulled the door shut. Scurrying like rats, we quickly reached the tunnel’s end.

Chance palm-pushed a trapdoor above our heads. Hinges groaned. The wooden panel swung open and flopped to the floorboards.

Cupping his hands for my foot, Chance boosted me up through the opening.

All was quiet in the boathouse.

I turned to help Shelton and Hi. Ben came next. Then he reached back and pulled Chance after him.

We sprinted down the dock and jumped aboard Sewee. Ben fired the engine and slammed the boat into gear.

Feet pounded down the planks behind us.

“Too late,” I whispered.

Sewee sped out into the cove.