She dropped the lamp and made her way through the mosaic of small burning mirrors on the floor, grateful she was wearing low-heeled boots. She reached Harlan’s side just as he gripped the edge of a mirror. He exerted some pressure. The entire panel swung open on concealed hinges, revealing a darkened space.

“How did you find the right mirror?”

“Process of elimination. This one isn’t hot. It’s made of a different kind of glass.”

Harlan swept the beam of his flashlight around the interior. “This was Sefton’s vault and his safe room.”

The space was the size of a large walk-in closet. Metal and glass shelves lined the walls. They were filled with a variety of vintage office paraphernalia—a black rotary dial telephone, a mid-twentieth-century typewriter, a slide rule, an old-fashioned desk calculator and a leather-bound notebook.

“Inside,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

She did not like the idea of moving into the dark, confined space, but given the dangerous energy in the outer room, there wasn’t any choice. She stepped through the doorway.

Harlan followed her into the vault and pulled the heavy steel door shut. Olivia heard a bolt slide into place. Just as it had in the nightmare. For a few seconds memory and reality blended together. She thought she heard her grandmother’s voice whispering in the shadows. “Run.”

She did not know she had said the single word aloud until Harlan spoke behind her.

“That’s the plan,” Harlan said. “Sefton spent years in hiding. That means there will be an emergency exit.”

“You seem very sure of that.”

“Yes.”

“Can I assume your certainty is based on personal experience?”

“You can.” He looked around the space, flashlight slashing across the display cases. “No mirrors on the walls. That’s a good sign.”

“This room is very hot,” she said.

Harlan touched the leather-bound notebook. “Vortex heat.”

“Shouldn’t we focus on getting out of here? If the main gallery does explode, it will bring down the whole house. We could get trapped.”

“Right.” Harlan scooped up the notebook and handed it to her. “Take this. I’ll find the exit.”

She dropped the notebook into her handbag and watched him flatten one hand against a wall. He worked his way quickly around the chamber and stopped when a section of shelving blocked his path. He shot her a sharp, searching look.

“Stop that,” she said.

“What?”

“Stop looking at me as if you’re expecting me to say something weird and creepy every time I open my mouth.”

“Your last weird, creepy saying saved our lives.”

“Not yet. We’re still trapped in a vault, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Not any longer.”

He eased the shelving aside and opened a hinged wall panel. Dank, musty air flowed out of a dark passage.

“Go,” he said.