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Harp was not alone. Edith Fenwick was at her side, a flamer in her hand as well. Clustered behind them, Leona could see a small gaggle of people gathered in the hallway. She recognized several of them, including Burt, the man who had made a show of displaying his mag-rez in the diner. Luckily, his pistol would not function in the Underworld, but now he had a flamer. The bartender, the waitress, and the guys on the barstools were in the group, as well. Several were armed.

She was surprised to see Baxter Richey and Darla Price in the group. The paranormal investigators were wide-eyed and excited. Probably figured they were living the dream, about to get the story of the century.

Baxter had an old-fashioned amber-based video camera braced on his shoulder. The little red light indicated it was filming. Darla Price had a notebook in one hand, a pen in the other. She was no doubt scripting the next episode of their show, Leona thought. Vincent Lee Vance Returns: Exclusive film and interviews . She wondered what would happen when Vance failed to make his big comeback.

Notably, two individuals were absent—the collector, Norton Thacker, and the Guild man, Dwight Starkey. Leona couldn’t decide if that was interesting or ominous. Given the current situation, she was leaning toward ominous.

Roxy’s low growl shattered the crystal-sharp tension. Leona looked down and saw her crouched beneath the Vortex machine. She was sleeked out and ready for combat—a pint-sized warrior with a fascinator.

The growl got Hester’s attention. “It’s that fucking dust bunny.”

She raised the flamer and aimed it at Roxy.

“No,” Leona said, suddenly frantic. “Don’t shoot her. She’s harmless. Roxy, please. Stop growling. Stay where you are, okay?”

Roxy stayed put but she did not fluff up. She kept all four eyes wide open.

“I wouldn’t fire a flamer in that direction if I were you, Ms. Harp,” Oliver said. He removed his glasses and began to polish them with a handkerchief. In the process, he slipped effortlessly into his Museum Guy persona. “Even if you’ve got very good aim, you’ll hit Vortex as well as the dust bunny. There’s no telling how that sort of energy would affect the machine. After all, it’s Old World tech that has been sitting down here in a sea of para-radiation for a very long time. It’s no doubt highly unstable.”

The lecture worked. Harp swung the barrel of the flamer away from Roxy. Leona’s relief was short-lived, however, because the weapon was now aimed at Oliver.

He carefully repositioned his glasses on his nose. “You all went to a lot of trouble to lure Dr. Griffin and me to your quaint little town.”

“We don’t need you,” Edith Fenwick declared. “You’re a damned nuisance.”

“I got that impression last night when someone tried to murder me with an artifact,” Oliver said.

“You’re a problem, Rancourt,” Burt warned.

“Because I was chasing Vortex,” Oliver said. “The juggler knew that sooner or later I’d find my way to Lost Creek, so they decided to issue an invitation in the form of an Old World document I couldn’t resist, the Bluestone Project file.”

“Juggler?” Burt snorted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know the juggler as the Voice,” Oliver said.

“The Voice wanted you out of the picture,” Burt shot back. “It said the artifact would take care of you last night, but the next thing we knew, the two of you had disappeared.”

“How did you find us here in the Underworld?” Leona asked.

Harp chuckled. “The pyramid crystal, of course. The Voice told us there’s a tracking code on it.”

“The Voice has known where you were every step of the way,” Edith Fenwick said. “When we realized you were heading down into the tunnels last night, the Voice told us to wait. For hours there was nothing. Figured you were asleep. But this morning the Voice said you had found the enhancement machine.”

“Interesting,” Oliver said. “Vortex has been down here all along but you couldn’t find it, could you?”

“It was part of the legend,” Harp said. “Over the years plenty of folks have searched for it. But once something disappears into the tunnels with no tracking device, it’s lost forever unless someone stumbles over it by accident. The Voice told us that Vance’s bride could resonate with the key and use it to lead us to the machine.”

“And only the bride can open it and awaken Vance,” Baxter Richey said. His voice thrummed with anticipation. He aimed the video camera directly at Leona.

“All of which means we don’t need Rancourt anymore,” Burt announced. “I’ll strip his amber and dump him in the tunnels.”

Oliver regarded him as if the threat was mildly irritating but not particularly relevant.

“No, wait,” Leona said quickly. “You’ve got what you wanted. I led you to Vance’s machine. Trust me, you do not want to kill anyone. I can guarantee you that if either Rancourt or I vanish here in Lost Creek, our families will make sure the FBPI and the Guild turn this town upside down until they find out what happened.”

“She’s got a point,” Oliver said in the same deceptively mild tone.

“You don’t even know for sure if I can unlock the machine,” Leona continued. “If I really am the bride and if I do awaken Vincent Lee Vance, he can decide what to do with Oliver.”

Oliver looked at her, brows slightly elevated. She was certain she saw the edge of his mouth twitch in one of his silent laughs. In that moment she knew he had a plan. That was a good thing, because she did not have one.

“She’s right,” Baxter said. “Let’s see if she can unlock Vortex.” He swiveled the camera toward the machine and back to Leona.

“Yes,” Darla Price said eagerly. “Let’s find out if she can unlock it.”

The crowd rumbled agreement.

Edith and Harp exchanged looks and then Harp nodded once. Decision made.

“Do it,” she ordered.

Well, shit, Leona thought. Now what?

She looked at Oliver. He inclined his head in the smallest possible nod. Go for it.

Evidently, unlocking Vortex was part of plan A.

Another unnerving possibility occurred to her. Maybe his professional curiosity had gotten the better of his common sense. Maybe he couldn’t resist finding out what was inside the machine.

She shot him a warning glare. He did not seem to notice. She stifled a sigh and turned to the audience gathered at the entrance of the chamber.

“I would like to remind everyone that this situation began when someone opened an artifact known as Pandora’s box,” she said.

“The Voice said you’re the one who opened it,” Harp reminded her.

“Ah, but I wasn’t the first one to open the artifact.” Leona held up a finger. “Someone else did that before me. Whoever it was put the pyramid crystal inside. I have been assured by an expert that the stone was not part of the original collection of objects inside the box. Someone screwed around with Pandora’s box. That was probably not a good idea.”

“Shut up and open Vortex,” Burt shouted. He was sweating heavily now and his eyes were feverish.

“Awaken our leader,” the bartender shouted from the back of the crowd.

The others took up the chant. “Awaken Vincent Lee Vance.”

Leona glanced at Oliver one last time, searching for some indication of a plan.

He shrugged. “Might as well see what’s inside Vortex,” he said. “We’ve come this far.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “But when this is over, you and I are going to have a serious conversation about the importance of having a backup plan.”

“Count on it,” he said.

She tightened her grip on the pyramid crystal, clapped one hand against the side of the machine, and rezzed her talent. For a moment she was confronted with a storm of chaos. But it was human psychic chaos—not Alien. There was nothing particularly complicated about the vibe that had been used to lock Vortex. But there was an element of violent madness.

If it was Vincent Lee Vance who had designed the lock, he had, indeed, been insane.

Insane, yes, but in his own twisted fashion, he had been clever. The lock was dangerous. She had no way of knowing what kind of trap Vance had created, but she knew it would probably be lethal.

She set her back teeth and eased her way into the currents of energy, searching for the pattern. There was always a pattern.

Energy—a lot of it—shifted in the atmosphere. She heard the crowd in the doorway start to murmur uneasily. Maybe they were finally starting to wonder if the whole Vincent Lee Vance return cult thing was a good idea after all.

“Too late,” she said under her breath.

She got the crystal-clear ping that told her she had flatlined the lock. There was a metallic crack that seemed as loud as thunder. It was followed by a grinding groan as the heavy lid of the coffin-like machine slowly opened.

A glary, hellish yellow light spilled out.

The crowd in the doorway froze. Their excitement and obsessive anticipation was now infused with something close to panic. It was one thing to buy into the expectation of the return of Vincent Lee Vance—it was another thing altogether to be in the chamber where a man who was supposed to have died a hundred years ago might actually sit up in his coffin.

The townsfolk clogging the doorway weren’t the only ones who were unnerved, Leona thought. She did not like the feel of the radiation streaming out of Vortex. It was intense and unstable.

She took several hasty steps back and came up against Oliver’s solid frame. He put a hand on her shoulder, sending a silent message that she interpreted as get ready.

About time, she thought.

Roxy, fascinator ribbons streaming behind her, darted out from under the machine, vaulted lightly up onto Oliver’s shoulder, and hunkered down. The team was once again ready for action, Leona thought.

The glare from the interior of Vortex was senses-dazzling, almost blinding. She could just make out that the light emanated from dozens of pyramid-shaped crystals that lined the interior of the machine.

Old gears rumbled to life. A transparent crystal platform rose. There was a figure clad in tattered clothing on top of it. Leona’s throat tightened in horror. Oliver’s hand abruptly tightened on her shoulder. She knew he had not seen this coming, either.