it’s not strong.” Corbin checked a mechanism Linus couldn’t see. “It’s only meant to keep passersby from noticing unusual activities, not to obscure the alley itself, since its sudden disappearance would draw unwanted attention.”
The proximity to a chocolatier made him curious if his mother hadn’t been attempting, in her way, to make its location easier for Grier to remember.
At times like these, he wondered if he hadn’t underestimated his mother’s affection for Grier. But each time he began to suspect she was softening toward his wife, his mother spoiled it with a reprehensible act.
As much as he loved her, he wasn’t blind to who and what she was, had always been. She underestimated Grier, and Grier was happy to let her do it. Perhaps that was their relationship, the push and pull of affection versus ambition. In that sense, it wasn’t so different from the one he shared with her.
“We need to hurry.” Corbin lowered himself into the darkness. “The ward is on a timer.”
Without further prompting, Linus followed him down the flaking metal ladder into a damp tunnel.
Necromancers had excellent night vision, so it was only a matter of providing a single point of light in order to allow his eyes to adapt.
His first step away from the surface access port provided him with that and more as motion lights blinked into wakefulness. The tunnel was an active section of the sewer, the pungent reek told him that much, but it had been upgraded to suit a purpose. A grated floor kept their feet out of the runoff, and built-in lights with a hidden power supply allowed them safe passage.
“Your mother had the city maps altered,” Corbin said as he led Linus deeper into the maze. “This section of tunnel has been wiped from the paper records and from the internet. There are wards to prevent anyone from entering through the connecting tunnels without permission, and there’s a glamour in place to fool the maintenance crews into believing the new maps are accurate.”
That was excessive, even for his mother. “The Lyceum has assumed maintenance of this section?”
“Officially, the bunker is for the Grande Dame. She won funding by pointing out the Lyceum’s defenses were breached during the Siege of Savannah. She called for a new safe place to be built. Once her motion was approved, construction began. It was finished in about five months, give or take.”
Its alternative funding source explained why Cruz found no mention of it when he reviewed her finances. Mother was clever at hiding her secrets that way.
A private tunnel still led out of the Lyceum in the event of attack, but Lacroix had learned its location and used it against them. Its exit still wasn’t known to the general public, but enough of their enemies had the information to make it tactically useless. Now it served as a staff exit for fires or other emergencies.
Linus replayed what Corbin had said. “Five months?”
“That’s what I was told, yeah.”
Then, no matter what she might claim, the bunker’s third spot hadn’t been intended for her grandchild. If it had been built to sustain three people, it had been designed with her, himself, and Grier in mind. No construction crew could have finished a project with the detail she required for all her endeavors in under five months.
The thought almost made him smile. Her own upbringing remained a mystery to him, but it did make him wonder if her parents’ treatment wasn’t the cause of Maud’s rebellion and his mother’s icy composure. He was lucky to have Grier in his life to thaw him when he turned cold.
“Here we are,” Corbin announced without fanfare. “The glamour gets in the way, but the door is there.”
He indicated a smooth section of tunnel wall that concealed more than what Linus perceived.
“The work is flawless.” Linus inspected it for seams but found none. “How do we remove it?”
“We can’t, it’s anchored too deep.”
“How do we get in?”
“If someone’s already in there, we don’t.” He walked up to the wall and began groping for an unseen mechanism. “There’s a twenty-four-hour timer on it. The door won’t open again until that condition has been met.”
The glimmer of hope that his mother might be on the other side of the barrier evaporated when metal scraped under Corbin’s hands, and a loud clang reverberated through Linus’s bones.
“It’s empty,” Corbin announced. “Might as well clear it since we’re down here.” He ducked through the doorway, vanishing behind the glamour, and cursed. “You need to see this.”
Holding