CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE:
TELL IT TO MY HEART
(episode seven: the bonfire)

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TWO WEEKS CAME AND went in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Each day blurred into the next, the same old routine; a string of sleepless nights spent burrowed in by grief and guilt, broken hearts and splintered minds. The whole world had fallen apart in a domino effect of disasters, and now they were free-falling, one after the other. It was hard to describe in any other way than that.

Starting with Melinda. Haven and her mother had never been so distant. Once the woman finally returned after three days of Haven reeling in her absence, she made her daughter promise to never mention it to her again. Whether it was denial or the urge to just let demons lie to rest, Haven didn't know, but she did what Melinda demanded, and that was that. Luke Maybank's name would never be said again in their household, not if Melinda had anything to do with it. As far as she was concerned, she didn't have a brother. She had no family but her daughter and her nephew, and she liked it that way.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the island, Sarah and John B had broken up. Not even a day after Ward Cameron went up in smoke, the two had called it quits in an argument that forced the pogues to pick sides. For Haven had been right. Sarah resented John B's cool indifference, and John B refused to budge. He wouldn't say he was happy that Ward Cameron was dead, but he definitely didn't care, and that, according to the devil's daughter, was just too much for her.

Haven had seen them argue before, but not like this. This seemed permanent, something they just couldn't come back from. Haven hadn't seen Sarah in over a week now, the blonde splitting most of her time between comforting Arden in her own grief or traipsing around Figure Eight with Topper at her side. Haven, in total honesty, didn't mind. She wasn't sure what to say to Sarah whereas things were easy with John B. In a complete three-sixty, Haven and John B were as thick as thieves, even closer, at times, than she was with her own blood. Haven spent most of her days cooped up at the Chateau. Sometimes, JJ and the pogues were there too, but it was usually just her and John B alone.

But Haven liked it that way. She had a feeling she knew why, but the words never came out how she wanted them to. Instead, Haven buried them deep, hiding them out of sight as their lives slowly repatched themselves, brick by holy brick.

On the day John B was set to return to school, he and Haven were woken by Arden marching into the house. From her spot on the couch, Haven rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was seeing things. But there she was, clear as day; Arden Kim with the brightest smile Haven had ever seen on her face.

Since Haven saw her last, Arden had dyed her fringe blonde and trimmed her hair to a length that was just a bit longer than Haven's own hair. She seemed happy, genuinely, so much so that Haven barely noticed the exhausted rings beneath her eyes.

Barely.

They were covered in a layer of makeup, but anyone who knew her could see that Arden Kim was at war with grief. Even if it was for a woman wicked to the core. Eun-Cha Lee had known her daughter was coming for her, sooner or later, with her own charges against Arden's dad and even Arden herself. Pre-mediated murder on two accounts, aiding and abetting Ward Cameron and his crimes, lying under oath to make Arden look unhinged. Just three sins on the never-ending list, but boy would they be hard to evade. So Eun-Cha took the quick way out, burning down Arden's childhood house while she was still inside it, thus freeing herself from taking responsibility and leaving her daughter with a final fuck you. That house was the only thing Arden had of her dad and her childhood. Now it was just molten rubble.

So, really, it made sense that Arden was tired. Haven would be too, if she was her.

"Rise and shine, Haven," the girl exclaimed before prancing over to bash her fist on John B's door. "You too, JB!"

"Arden?" the boy greeted a second later, bleary eyes glancing from the girl in front of him to where Haven was sitting up behind her, one of his shirts hiked up on her stomach. For a split second, his gaze lowered to the pale skin, but flitted away just as quickly. His face had flushed red, and Arden's brows furrowed with suspicion. "Uh, what are you ― what are you doing here?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten," she sighed. "We have school?"

"Oh."

"Come on!" she urged, ushering him back into the room. "Get changed and meet me outside in ten. JJ's already conked out in the Twinkie with Kie and Pope."

John B simply sighed in defeat, knowing there was no point in arguing. As the door closed in her face, Arden spun around to look at Haven again, merely observing the girl as she stood up and made her way into to the bathroom to do her business. The moment Arden heard the toilet flush and the water running in the sink, she opened the door, ignoring Haven's indignant huff through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Good morning, Havey," she beamed, dutifully ignoring the girl's wary glance at the use of her nickname. "I see you've been sleeping here a lot."

At that, Haven shrugged, spitting out her toothpaste before setting aside the toothbrush. It was a spare of Arden and JJ's that had never been opened, stashed at the back of the cupboard among Arden's makeup. John B had found it after she'd stayed over for a couple nights, declaring it hers for as long as she wanted it to be. Haven's heart had fluttered at the soft words, though she knew John B only meant them in a platonic way.

Speaking of fluttering hearts...

When Arden finally realised Haven wasn't going to respond, she pouted and declared to the empty house that she'd wait in the van with the others. As the front door closed behind her, Haven glanced down at the shirt and shorts she was wearing, and sighed to herself. She'd need to change, but her clothes were in with John B. So she made her way over to his room, her knock stark in its gentleness compared to Arden's.

"One sec," John B called out, followed by muffled footsteps. With a creak, the door opened, revealing the boy in question. "Oh, it's you. I thought it was Arden."

"She's outside," Haven offered up, though she admittedly was distracted. John B's shirt lay discarded on his bed, leaving his toned stomach on display in a way that Haven found herself lingering on. She couldn't help it. He looked effortlessly good despite the early hour. Had he always been this attractive? And why was she only noticing now?

"Haven?" John B frowned when he noticed her silence. Quickly, her eyes met his, but if anything, that seemed to make the hammering of her heart worse. No, no, no... she couldn't be... "Did you need something?"

"Y-Yeah," she stammered, ignoring the faint smirk that tugged at his lips. It was tentative, like he didn't want to assume anything, but hopeful ― wait, what? She had to be reading into things. Frustrated, she shook her head, cursing herself as she finally forced the words out. "Sorry. I left some clothes in here the other day and just wanted to grab them. Can't wear your shirts all the time."

"You could. I certainly don't mind," he said jokingly, or at least Haven thought it was a joke. His eyes followed her as she crossed his room, searching around in the bottom drawer of his bedside table. She knew he didn't keep anything in there, so when it subconsciously became a thing for her to sleep at the Chateau, she'd brought over some jeans and tops so she didn't have to go back and forth under Melinda's scrutiny. "You find what you need?"

John B's voice was a lot closer now, right behind her. Haven stood up with the clothes in hand, and almost immediately blushed as he peered down at her with that blasted smile of his. Jesus Christ, she needed to stop being weird and get a move on before Arden came back and found them. She knew how it would look to the eagle-eyed girl; Haven and John B, alone in his bedroom, his chest bare and her face the colour of a tomato.

So she nodded, murmuring a tense 'sure did' and shuffled past him when he remained standing in her way. Their shoulders brushed the tiniest bit in a touch that John B didn't even seem to notice as he went back to finally putting on his shirt, but Haven swore her skin burned even after she was back in the bathroom.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She was so screwed.

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DESPITE SHARING MOST OF her classes with him, Haven managed to avoid John B for most of her morning. Fortunately, things were normal again with one part of her life, and that was her friendship with Brec, Leo and Allison. Now a group of five with Harlow tagging along everywhere that Brec went, Haven made sure she was always with one of the girls whenever John B was around. It was stupid, and he definitely noticed how odd she was being, but as per the mantra of Haven Murphy's life, it wasn't her fault! John B could just look at her and Haven would get tongue-tied.

And Haven couldn't afford to be tongue-tied over a friend, a friend with an ex-girlfriend who was also (somewhat) her friend.

Fuck, this was even worse than the Pope and Kie fiasco. At least things were somewhat normal with them now. She and Kie were on speaking terms again, and even Pope was treating her like nothing had even happened between them.

Pope. Haven had really liked him, or at least, she thought she did. He was sweet to her, and made her happy for the first time since her dad died. But things had changed with them, because of her. Sure, it sucked for a while, but they were okay now. No feelings, a tentative friendship. She'd be able to move on from this too. It was just a crush, just her brain being stupid because John B was there and showing her a smidge of kindness.

She'd get over it.

She just had to keep reminding herself.

In Biology, when John B rushed to claim the seat at her side; she'd get over it. Then in the corridor between classes, when he smiled and ruffled her hair after she agreed to help him study for the next Bio quiz (seeing as he'd just failed his first one back) she'd get over that too. Every single little moment piling up before her, she'd find a way to just block it out.

She'd get over it, she'd get over it, she'd get―

"A bonfire?" JJ echoed as he read over the note John B had been given. By a girl, a pretty one at that, in their last class. "Well, I think she meant to give it to me, so we're all good there."

"Don't let Arden hear you say that," Pope scoffed from the blonde boy's side.

Meanwhile, Haven was watching John B for a reaction, trying to pretend it didn't matter even though it definitely did. Okay, so a girl had shown interest in him. That was hardly a crime. Sure, it made Haven's insides feel like they were boiling but everything was A-Okay.

Oh, who was she kidding?

"Anyways," JJ continued. "We're definitely going."

"I'm meant to be tutoring John B," Haven frowned.

"So? You can tutor him tomorrow," he said, unphased by the look she cast him over her shoulder. "Tonight, Havey, is a pogues' night out."

Before Haven had a chance to retort, John B froze on the stairs, leaving her to almost run into his back had it not been for Pope reaching out to stop her. She flushed, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, as John B spared her a split second grin before the expression faltered at the sound of Mr Sunn's voice in front of them.

"Mr Heyward, Mr Routledge, Mr Maybank and Miss Murphy," he listed them off one-by-one as he ushered them through the open door of his classroom. "Just the men and woman I wanted to see."

"Wish I could say the same," Haven heard JJ grumble as he filed in after the rest of them.

Mr Sunn didn't seem to hear him. Or if he did, he pretended that he didn't. "I have a question of an historical nature for you four," he declared. "You see, I digitise documents for the Maritime Museum, and in return, I've been given access to the archives. And I found... this."

Turning around, he held up a plain grey box for the group to see. Haven's nose scrunched up at the sight of it, though a tiny part of her interest had been caught at the mention of its historical background. Why did Sunn want to show it to them and them only? Why not the rest of their class?

"A box."

"More than a box," Sunn corrected Pope as he brushed past the boy to place the object on his desk. Slipping back the lid, a leather-bound book wrapped in a plastic bag was revealed. It was falling apart at the seams, held together by a thin water-logged rope, indicating just how old it really was. "Go ahead, Mr Heyward."

Carefully, Pope did as he was told, reaching inside and pulling back its coverings. With the boys and Haven crowded in around him, eagerly peeking over his shoulders for a better look, he slowly opened to the first page.

"It's a diary," Mr Sunn informed them. But Haven was barely paying attention anymore. Like the others, her attention had been hooked by the intricate wheat symbol stamped into the paper. "The author's unknown."

Or was it?

"And this," Sunn continued, brandishing a considerably newer piece of paper. "Is a sample of a Denmark Tanny letter. Compare the hand-writing. It's nearly identical."

He was right. Side-by-side, the messy scrawl of smudged ink was the exact same.

Well, this certainly changed things.

"This is Denmark Tanny's diary," Pope murmured, holding it up to the light as he turned a page to what looked to be a sketch of a ship with several people on it. "Guys, look. This is Captain Limbrey."

Right beneath it was a date scrawled so small that Haven struggled to read it even when she squinted. With a sigh of annoyance, she quickly searched through her pencil case, smiling happily as she pulled out the leather pouch that held her glasses and slipped the familiar frames onto her face. John B started snickering at her side, mimicking her squint deliberately so Haven would see. She scoffed, swatting his arm before turning back to the drawing again.

"August 6th, 1829," she read out for all of them, Pope nodding in confirmation. "Oh, my god..."

"That's the year the Royal Merchant went down," John B said, any traces of amusement long gone. The air was solemn as Pope sat down on a nearby desk, cradling the diary like it was a piece of fine china. The pages were his heritage, his blood. Of course, Sunn didn't know it then, but he'd just handed Pope a lifeline.

"Thank you so much for this," the boy said, voice thick with something similar to grief. Not quite heartache, but a kind of mourning that was close to it.

"It's important to know your own history," Mr Sunn merely shrugged in reply.

And with that, he left the room, allowing them a moment alone. Pope flipped to the next weather-worn page as the door clicked shut, letting out a gasp of shock so strong that he fumbled to keep the book in his grasp.

"Oh, my god," he breathed out, holding it out for the others, who rushed over to look over his shoulders again. "It's the Cross of Santo Domingo." At the bottom of the page was another drawing, the meaning clear as day. Four men holding up a cross that towered over their heads. But that would mean... "Holy shit, guys. It was on the Royal Merchant."

If they were right, that Denmark Tanny had taken the province's gift onto the ship with them, then only one of two things could've happened. One; the boat sunk with a giant statue of gold to the bottom of the ocean. Two; Denmark had somehow transported it with the rest of the gold, and it was out there somewhere, hidden on the island for them to find, just like before.

"So what are we going to do?" JJ frowned. "It could be anywhere."

Slowly, Haven shook her head, the realisation sinking in fast. "No," she said. "It has to be on the island."

"But how―"

"We would've seen it on the drone," she reminded him, looking around as the same knowing spark settled in each of them. "He took it with him."

And so the countdown began. Again.

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"GUYS, LISTEN," POPE SAID later that same day.

The bonfire was a couple of hours away but first, the group had gathered at the Chateau again so that Pope could show Arden and Kie the photocopies he'd taken of Denmark's diary. They hadn't believed it at first, but after seeing it with their own eyes, the shock had taken hold, rendering them silent as Pope read out some of the entries.

"August 15th. Set sail from Port-au-Prince on calm seas. Came upon the Spanish ship, San Jose, on fire. The entire deck was aflame, and we could hear the screams of men trapped below. The Spanish captain cared about only one thing; his valuable cargo, the Cross of Santo Domingo and countless bars of gold. Once the cargo was on board, we went to help the crew, but Captain Limbrey ordered us to pull bayonets and not to let any of the Spanish crew on board. He robbed them and left them to die."

"Holy fuck," Arden breathed out, the only words she could manage. She had Logan laying on her chest, the baby enjoying her mother's presence for the few hours she had her. When it was time for the bonfire, Liam would come over for his usual babysitting duties. "That's... that's a lot..."

"So it didn't go down off Bermuda," noted JJ with the same tense tone. It was off-putting that he hadn't made a joke yet, but Haven supposed he had enough sense not to, at least not now. This was Pope recounting a horrifying part of his ancestor's history. It deserved more respect than petty teenage humour.

"And it was a Limbrey stealing shit again," Kie shook her head in disgust. "Why am I not surprised?"

"This diary proves that both the gold and the Cross of Santo Domingo were on the Royal Merchant," Pope said, handing the papers over to John B so he could take a closer look at them.

"Wait," JJ sat up suddenly. "Why didn't we find it in the well then?"

The same look of disappointed confusion settled over Haven and Arden's faces. "JJ..."

"No, listen," he insisted. "If Denmark was able to get this, like, bedazzled cross off of the Merchant and onto shore, why didn't he just hide it with the gold?"

"Because it was too big?" John B suggested.

Arden rolled her eyes. "No kidding. The cross takes several men to move it. What was Denmark meant to do, just throw it down the well and hope for the best?"

"Then where is it?" Kie sighed, repeating the question they were all thinking.

In the end, Pope just shrugged, though light had gathered in his eyes, hopeful. "Right before he was hung," he said, voice grim. "Denmark said he'd 'buried the treasure at the foot of the angel'―"

"Wait, I thought this was about the key?" JJ frowned, causing Pope to sigh.

"Right," Kie agreed before he could retort. "So what's the connection?"

"'The path to the tomb begins in the island room.'"

"But what is the island room?"

At this point, they were merely going around in circles. It was like a puzzle. They'd been given the pieces to put together but weren't told what the picture was. And without the picture, there was no way to know what they were meant to be seeing.

"We're getting nowhere," Haven declared, sick of sitting down with her mind reeling. Instead, she moved to lean against the railing, stretching her legs while the group continued to spitball ideas.

"You know what helps me figure shit out?" JJ said at long last, unphased by the knowing groans that followed. "Smoking beers and drinking weed. The ideas just pour out of me."

"Okay, way too much information, J," Haven scoffed as the boy winked in Arden's direction. She merely shook her head, unamused as Logan gurgled on her chest.

"Look, if we just sit here and try to figure this out, we're gonna get nowhere."

"But?"

"But if we get creative, and go to this bonfire tonight, maybe we get somewhere."

"You just want to get drunk," Haven deadpanned.

"That too."

The idea didn't sound too bad. Haven could see it growing on people, with Kie the first to agree. "Well, I just got disowned by my parents, so I'm an official member of the 'I-have-nothing-to-lose' club."

"That's the spirit," JJ exclaimed happily. "Pope? What about you?"

Pope merely sighed, uncertain. "We're so close..."

But JJ wasn't having it anymore. "Look, look, think about how much you could think if you just gave your brain a rest."

"That makes no sense―"

"Okay, fine."

"Pope!" Haven face-palmed. "You weren't supposed to give in so quickly."

"Oh, come on, Haven," JJ smirked and slung an arm around her shoulder, beginning to guide her inside to where she knew the 'pregame' beers would be waiting. "You know you want to go, really. What if I wing-man you and find you a guy or gal to get down and dirty with? Would that help?"

Haven retched. "Never say 'down and dirty' again and I'll go."

"Done deal, cousin of mine."

It all spiralled from that moment.

In the end, maybe it would've been better if she just stayed home.

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A/N: Surprise! Who else figured out the new ship?? I feel like I've been hinting at it for a while now, I didn't wanna make it too obvious but I needed to start laying the foundations. Now I can finally show you guys all the aesthetics that I've made for them, like this one: