We worked silently for an hour more before Willie flopped onto the ground with a sigh. She leaned back against a tree and stretched out her legs. "My back is broken," she moaned.
"I'd offer to massage it if my shoulder didn't feel like a knife were stabbing it," Duke said, carefully lowering himself to sit next to her.
Cyclops and Matt worked a little longer before Matt declared the task complete. "Unless the box was buried very deep, it's not in this clearing."
"Let's try somewhere else," Cyclops said.
Matt wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "We'll rest here for a little first. India, are you all right? You're rubbing your hand."
"I'm fine," I said, getting to my feet. "Which direction shall we head in?"
We decided to check the extent of the woods before choosing our next location. The woods were bigger than I first thought. Although not wide, the copse of trees stretched deep into the property.
Despite the size, we did not come across another clearing as large as the first. Certainly nothing large enough for all of us to dig without hitting one another with shovels. We had to split up, yet we only had one lamp.
"We'll take it in turns," Matt said. "We each dig in short stints, that way we won't get as tired."
"Except for India," Willie said. "On account of her being delicate."
"Do stop saying that, Willie," I said on a sigh. "I can wield a shovel as easily as you can."
She handed me her shovel. "Go on then."
Digging holes with shovels was more difficult than it looked, and I struggled to make a good dent in the ground. Willie leaned against a tree, her arms crossed, and made scoffing noises at every pathetic pile of soil I dug up. Eventually she gave up and took the shovel off me.
For a small figure, she was surprisingly strong, and the hole I'd begun grew larger quite quickly. I felt useless and slunk to the shadowy edge of the lamplight. As I watched the others take turns, my uselessness became hopelessness. We wouldn't find the box. Father Antonio had seen someone walk into the woods with it years ago. The person who did so could have retrieved it the following night, or any other night in the last twenty-seven years. Even if they'd left it, we could spend every night for the next month and we wouldn't cover every inch of the woods. Then there was the very real possibility that the box contained no evidence relating to the disappearances of the Mother Alfreda or the babies. We were clutching at straws, and those straws were small indeed.
I sat on a fallen log and blinked back my tears. Despite the cool air, I felt warm from the exercise of digging, but over the next few minutes, the warmth began to fade. That is, it faded in all parts of my body except for a small section of my chest. The section beneath my watch. I wore it on a chain as a necklace, knowing I would not carry my reticule tonight, but wanting to have the watch close.
I fished it out from where it nestled against my skin beneath my clothing, and removed my glove. The watch was definitely warm, and not from my own body heat. It was magical warmth.
"India, what are you doing?" Matt asked.
"My watch is warm."
He suddenly straightened and took up the pick as if it were a weapon. He scrutinized the edge of the small clearing. "Stop digging," he hissed at Willie.
"Someone there?" Duke whispered.
"The watch could be warning India of imminent danger," Matt whispered back without taking his gaze from the shadows.
"I don't think it's a warning," I said. "It chimes when there is danger."
Matt did not lower the pick, but I could see his shoulders relax a little.
Cyclops sat on the log beside me. "What do you think it means then?"
"I think it's responding to other magic."
"It can feel magic heat like you can feel it?"
I placed my palm on the log. Nothing. No magic warmth, just rough bark and a clump of damp moss. I leaned down and touched the leaf litter.
There. I felt it. A small wave of heat pulsed through me, faint but definite.
"India?" Cyclops murmured.
Matt crouched before me. "Can you feel magic heat?"
"Very faintly." I met his gaze and smiled, not quite believing what I could feel. Not really grasping the significance of it. But I did know it was important. It had to be. Our mystery was tied up with magic and magic had been performed in this area.
No. Not performed. If someone had stood here and infused magic into whatever they held, the magic would leave with that item. So the item itself was still here, buried in the ground. The spell could have been spoken anywhere.
"Whatever was in that box has had magic performed on it," I told them. "And it's buried somewhere nearby. Not in this spot," I said when Willie went to thrust her shovel into the ground near my feet. "It's too faint to be right here."
I got down on my knees and pressed both hands to the earth. I felt outward from the warm spot, changing direction whenever the dirt and leaf matter cooled. I crawled along the warm trail, my excitement growing as the warmth increased. My senses heightened, tuning in to the earth beneath me. Something small rustled near my fingers then scurried off. An insect buzzed near my ear before flying to a nearby bush where it rested, watching me. Behind me was utter silence.
The warmth intensified then, no matter which direction I advanced, it weakened. I sat back on my haunches. "Here," I said, tapping the ground. "Dig here."
Willie pushed in her shovel. Cyclops joined her. Duke had got hold of my gardening trowel and dug out small clumps of dirt. Matt crouched beside me and together we watched on.
Thud. Cyclops's shovel hit something hard. Cyclops and Willie cast aside their shovels and joined us on their knees. We used our hands to dig out the earth while Duke used the trowel.
Slowly the box revealed itself. The more of it we exposed, the more intense the heat became. It shocked me at first, so fierce was it, and I stopped digging. I'd felt magic heat before, but never that strong. My fingers tingled as if a little burned and I wasn't sure I wanted to touch the box again. It reminded me of when Chronos had first touched a clock I'd worked on. He'd been surprised by the heat and retracted his hand quickly.
"Whatever magic is inside that box is strong," I told them. "I think the magician who put it there must have been powerful."
"Something made of silk," Matt said between breaths, "from Abigail Pilcher."
It took some time to dig around the box's sides before it could be wrenched free from its grave. Cyclops hauled it out and placed the box near me. It was indeed approximately two feet by two, as Father Antonio had told us, and made of wood. It was in good condition, considering it had been in the ground as long as it had. Even so, the contents might be damaged from time and moisture.
"It's not locked," Duke said, trying to lift the lid. "But I can't open it. The hinges have rusted."
"Let me try." Cyclops's fingers were like rods of iron but it took him several attempts to pry the lid open. The hinge complained but eventually gave way, and Cyclops pushed the lid back as far as it would go.