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The ancient staircase wound upward for what must have been the equivalent of three or four stories. It was a tedious climb because, as was always the case in the Underworld, the steps were a little too wide and a little too far apart to be comfortable for humans.

The other issue, Oliver knew, was that he and Leona had been through a lot recently. The five hours of sleep he had gotten last night had restored his senses, but he needed more rest in order to get back to normal. Same with Leona. Luckily, they had started out in good shape, but they could not keep going indefinitely. He had to get them somewhere safe, preferably off the damn mountain, by day’s end.

“Do you think the Aliens ever figured out how to build elevators?” Leona grumbled at one point.

“If they did, we’ve never come across one,” Oliver said.

“Then again, would we recognize an Alien elevator if we did find one?”

“There is that.”

“I wonder—” She rounded another twist in the staircase and stopped. “Here we go.”

“Aboveground ruins?”

“No. A hole-in-the-wall exit sealed by a vault door. No telling what’s on the other side.”

Oliver followed her around the final twist in the staircase and saw that she was looking up at a mag-steel door in the ceiling. A vintage ladder provided access. That meant that at some point in the past—evidently decades earlier, judging by the ladder—someone else had discovered the exit and secured it with a locked door.

More unknowns.

“Just one surprise after another here in Lost Creek,” he said. “I’ll take a look.”

Roxy had been bouncing up the staircase under her own steam. She chortled and her ears perked up.

Leona glanced down at her. “Little adrenaline junkie. I would have thought you’d had enough excitement for one day.”

Roxy was practically vibrating with anticipation.

“She doesn’t look worried,” Leona said. “That’s a good sign.”

Oliver reached the heavy trapdoor and studied the lock mechanism. “This is old. Era of Discord tech, or maybe even earlier.”

Leona studied the door. “I wonder if it was intended to be an emergency escape hatch for Vance.”

“Maybe.” He tested the door. “It’s locked.”

“Want me to open it?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got this.”

He took the lock pick out of his jacket pocket and eased it into the hundred-year-old keyhole. Cautiously he pulsed a little energy. There was a distinct click when the lock gave way. He slipped the pick back into his pocket and took out his flamer.

He cracked the trapdoor. Light—the familiar kind used by humans to illuminate their homes and offices—appeared in the narrow opening.

“Who’s there?” Norton Thacker yelped. “What’s going on? This is a private residence. No trespassing. I’ve got a flamer.”

Great, Oliver thought. The mansion was crammed with flammable materials—a real tinderbox—and the owner had a flamer.

“It’s Rancourt,” Oliver said. “Dr. Griffin is with me.” He opted not to mention Roxy. “Sorry to intrude like this, but things got complicated last night.”

“Rancourt?” Thacker pulled the trapdoor open and looked down at them. “And Dr. Griffin. I wasn’t expecting you. Do come up.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said. He stepped off the ladder and into the library vault. “About the flamer.”

Thacker chuckled. “Not to worry. I was afraid you were an intruder bent on raiding my collection. I wanted to scare you off. I wouldn’t think of having a flamer around so many valuable books and documents and papers.”

“That is very good to know.”

Leona climbed up to the top of the ladder and moved into the vault. Roxy bounced up behind him and chortled at Thacker.

“You must be the dust bunny,” Thacker said, chuckling. “Ms. Harp mentioned you. Evidently you caused a bit of a to-do in the kitchen. Best behave yourself. My housekeeper was in quite a state after you left last time. It’s never a good idea to upset Ms. Harp.”

Roxy blinked her blue eyes and chortled. She was in full adorable mode, Oliver thought, and Thacker looked charmed.

Leona smiled. “I’m starting to feel like Alice in Amberland. Another day, another dust bunny hole. You never know where you’ll end up.”