Page 103 of Evil Hearts

One

S omeone had once said that when one door closes, another door opens.

When she first stepped through the door to her cruise ship cabin, Oriana’s first thought was that it should be called the bridal suite, not the honeymoon suite, because the bed was huge enough to sleep the entire bridal party, even without the sofas that also occupied the cavernous space. Having the whole place to herself was so unbelievably decadent, she wished she’d brought a tiara or something, so she’d actually feel like royalty. Instead of the reject she really was.

If she found a crown for sale in one of the souvenir shops and markets when the cruise ship called in to its next port, she’d buy it, Oriana told herself as she stepped out of the (also palatial) shower and enveloped her body in one of the thickest, softest towels she’d ever encountered. She’d never understood why people stole hotel towels before, but these were tempting her more than she liked. She’d never stolen anything except that one time she took extra napkins from an ice cream shop when she’d run out of tissues, and she’d felt so guilty about it, she’d gone back the next day to buy a massive sundae from them, even though it had been the middle of winter.

A crown was a better souvenir than a sundae, even in the balmy weather aboard the cruise ship, Oriana told herself as she clicked the door shut behind her and made her way to the restaurant where breakfast was being served.

The girls she’d dubbed the Three Musketeers were already there, despite the early hour.

“Up early to come treasure hunting with us?” one of them asked, pulling out a chair so Oriana could join them.

“How’s your husband’s seasickness this morning?” another asked, looking sympathetic. Oriana wasn’t certain, but she thought she was the one who’d advised her to buy him some ginger tablets from the onboard pharmacy.

Oriana screwed up her nose in disgust at the thought of Hunter. “It still has him hurling up anything he swallows.” She wished her words could make it true, but Hunter was safely on dry land at home, probably gaming day and night, while having…what did you call it when you had sex with someone over a gaming chat server? Well, jerked off jointly with them, seeing as the girl she’d caught him with had been on the other side of the world. At least he’d shown his true colours before she’d married him. A few days later, and he really would have been her husband.

“Ugh. Seasickness is horrible. Especially on your honeymoon. You should take him ashore today. A few hours on dry land will make him feel heaps better,” the second girl replied, before tucking into the massive stack of pancakes on her plate.

“Tell him you’re going treasure hunting for real pirate treasure,” the third girl said, grinning.

“Seriously?” Oriana couldn’t hide her scepticism. These girls couldn’t be much younger than she was. Old enough not to believe in fairytales any more.

“Seriously. Haven’t you seen the flyers about today’s excursion? There was even a documentary about it in the cinema last night. William Dampier and his crew wrecked the Roebuck on this very island, and when they were rescued a month later, they didn’t bring a single scrap of treasure aboard the rescue ships. He and his pirate crew intended to come back to collect the treasure, but they never did. Dampier died in England, with nothing but debts and no descendants, and no one knows where he buried his treasure. Some say he left clues in the cave on Green Mountain where he and his men took shelter while they were waiting to be rescued, and others say he buried it on Long Beach beneath their tents, covered by the shells from the turtles they ate to survive.”

“Isn’t the whole island basically a volcano? One eruption could’ve buried everything, leaving nothing for anyone to find,” the first girl said.

“A dormant volcano that hasn’t erupted in more than five hundred years,” Oriana corrected before she could stop herself. Her cheeks grew hot as all three girls stared at her. “I’m a high school science teacher. My degree’s in geology, and I worked at a school in a mining town, so I taught a lot of earth sciences. And I wouldn’t go ashore if the volcano was active. Not after what happened at White Island.” When the girls looked blank, Oriana added, “The island off the coast of New Zealand that erupted when a tour group from a cruise ship was there? A bunch of people died, and the rest were badly injured.”

The girls paled. “But that’s not going to happen here, right?”

They weren’t that much younger than Oriana herself, but right now, they reminded her of her students. So she forced herself to produce a reassuring smile as she said, “Of course not. Who ever heard of a dormant volcano waking up just to wreck someone’s honeymoon?”

That was enough for colour to return to the girls’ cheeks as they resumed their chatter about pirate treasure and whether pancakes were superior to bacon, but dread curdled in Oriana’s tummy.

A honeymoon without a husband was bad luck enough for anyone. But if something bad was going to happen to anyone on this trip, it totally made sense that she’d be caught up in it. Didn’t bad luck come in threes?

Much like musketeers. Suddenly, Oriana wasn’t hungry any more. She pushed her half-eaten breakfast away and rose. “See you on the island,” she said as she forced out another smile.

For a moment, she considered hiding in her cabin instead of going ashore with the others. What if something bad did happen?

But she was a geologist. And this was a volcano. How often would she get the chance to visit an actual volcano and get this close to it without suffering a horrible fate? It had been dormant for five centuries. If there was even the slightest sign of it becoming active again, the cruise ship company wouldn’t let them land. Everyone was paranoid after White Island, and with good reason.

Oriana hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder. She was going ashore, no matter what the future had in store for her. After all the bad luck fate had thrown at her lately, she deserved a break. Maybe even some good luck for once.