“How did you—” Melissa’s voice was hoarse from disuse.
“No time to explain. We need to move fast.” Vivienne pulled out her multi-tool and began cutting through the zip ties. Industrial strength, but the blade was sharp.
“They said I’d drown down here. That no one would find my body for months.” Melissa’s hands trembled as the first restraint gave way. “They’ve been moving artifacts through these tunnels for years. When I started asking questions about the lighthouse’s history, they realized I knew too much.”
The second restraint snapped. Vivienne helped Melissa stand, steadying her when her legs nearly gave out.
“Can you climb?”
“I’ll manage.”
Vivienne lit the herb mixture and placed it near the chamber’s main entrance. Within seconds, thick smoke billowed through the space. Anyone entering would be temporarily blinded and disoriented—buying them precious minutes.
She carried the chair over to the grate opening and helped Melissa upward. Vivienne climbed after her, emerging into the observation passage just as voices echoed from the main corridor below.
“What the hell is that smoke?”
“She’s gone!”
“Find her! Check every passage!”
Vivienne pulled Melissa away from the grate, moving quickly through the narrow observation corridor. Her grandmother’s maps had shown these routes—passages that let the Hawthornes monitor activity without being detected. Multiple exits, including one leading to the northeast section where the emergency storm drain emerged.
Behind them, the sounds of pursuit intensified. Flashlight beams swept through the darkness. But Vivienne knew these passages in ways the Aldriches never could. Knowledge passed down through generations, mapped in her mind as clearly as if she’d built them herself.
“This way.” She guided Melissa through a junction that looked like solid wall until you knew where to press. The stone pivoted, revealing another corridor that climbed steadily upward.
Water dripped from the ceiling here, forming puddles on the uneven floor. The storm was intensifying above them, adding urgency to their escape. But at least this passage was rising, taking them away from the flooding chambers below.
Melissa stumbled, her strength fading. Vivienne caught her, taking more of her weight.
“How much further?”
“Not far. There’s a cave system ahead that connects to the surface.”
They pushed forward, Vivienne half-carrying Melissa now. Her own energy was draining fast. The psychic effort of maintaining her awareness, the physical exertion of the rescue, the accumulated stress of days spent investigating this case—it was all catching up to her.
But she couldn’t stop. Not when Melissa’s life depended on reaching safety. Not when Brooks was somewhere in these tunnels with Sullivan’s team, searching for them both.
The passage opened into a natural cavern. Rain poured through an opening ahead, and blessed fresh air replaced the stale underground atmosphere. Vivienne helped Melissa to a dry ledge and pulled out her grandmother’s compass.
“Stay here. This compass will guide anyone who comes looking for you to this exact spot. When Detective Harrington arrives, give him this.” She handed Melissa her satchel, containing the evidence she’d brought with her—Lily’s journal, the photographs, the documentation of the Aldrich smuggling operation. “Make sure it reaches Martha Morgan. She deserves to know what happened to her daughter.”
“What about you?” Melissa clutched the satchel. “You’re not staying?”
“I need to find Brooks. Make sure he and the rescue team don’t walk into a trap.” Vivienne managed a smile despite her exhaustion. “Don’t worry. I’ve survived worse than a few flooding tunnels.”
She turned back toward the darkness of the passage, water now rushing past her ankles with alarming speed. Behind her, Melissa called out something, but the words were lost beneath the roar of the storm and the rising tide.
Vivienne descended into the flooded corridor, following the pull of her abilities toward where she sensed Brooks. The water was waist-deep now, cold enough to steal her breath. The spirits pressed close around her—warning or encouragement, she couldn’t tell.
Then she heard it. Voices ahead. Male. Angry.
TEN
brooks
Brooks climbedthe stone steps two at a time, cataloging evidence. The discovery below confirmed the Aldrich family ran smuggling operations. Melissa Clarkson was alive. He checked his watch. Nearly three thirty. Chief Sullivan would arrive with the forensic team soon, but each minute reduced their chances of a clean rescue.
