The sidewalk was packed with people, and like the road, no one seemed to be moving. “They won’t mow down a bunch of pedestrians with their bikes, will they?” asked Adrian as we hurried through the crowd as fast as they could.
“Not likely,” I said, “but they’ll probably gain on us pretty fast once they get on foot. And they won’t have qualms about just abandoning the motorcycles.” We halted as a knot of camera-snapping tourists refused to part, forcing us to make a wide circle around them. “Why is everyone just standing around?”
“Because we’re in front of the Bellagio,” said Adrian, staring up at a sprawling hotel. “Their fountains are probably about to come on. Pretty sure there’s a tram or monorail here that’ll get us up the Strip if we can get to it.”
“Beats running,” I said. I was fully aware that not only my dress but also my shoes were slowing our pace. I’d at least had the sense to decline the five-inch-heeled “to die for” shoes that the consultant had initially recommended, but even these little kitten-heeled ones were starting to pinch and take their toll.
Adrian and I made the Bellagio’s main door our goal, a journey complicated by the excited crowds growing thicker as we neared the fountains. We had to go considerably around them to make any sort of progress, which also took us away from the most direct route to the door. We’d just made it to the far side of the fountains from the road when I glanced back and saw the foursome running toward us, much more uncaring of whom they pushed aside than we had been.
“I didn’t know the Alchemists had such buff recruits,” remarked Adrian.
“Sometimes they outsource extra security forces for—”
My words were cut off by exclamations of delight as the fountains suddenly sprang to life. Streams of water shot hundreds of feet in the air, and the opening bars of “Viva Las Vegas” sounded. Adrian started to run again, but I held him back. “Hang on,” I said.
The Alchemists had pushed their way as close to the fountains as possible, much to the outrage of those who’d been waiting for a while. The foursome scanned around, using the somewhat clear vantage point to search for us. I made eye contact with one, and he gestured his colleagues toward me. I summoned my magic, drawing on long hours of practice with channeling the elements to call upon the essence of the water near us. The Alchemists only managed to take a few steps in our direction when I made one of the streams from the fountain bend down, almost like an arm, toward them. My extensive elemental practice made reaching out to a pure element easier than it might once have been, but I was no Moroi water user. My control of the stream was sloppy, inadvertently spraying most of the people within twenty feet of the Alchemists. I gritted my teeth and poured all my magic and energy into giving the stream as much solidity as I could as it swept toward the Alchemists. It wrapped around the four of them and lifted them into the air, eliciting cries of astonishment and a lot of camera flashes. At this point, the feat was too much for my powers, but it achieved as much of my goal as I needed. I had the Alchemists over the fountain’s lake by this point, and I released the magic—which in turn released them from their suspension. They dropped into the water with a splash.
“Wow,” someone near me said. “They didn’t have that in the show the last time I was here!”
As Adrian and I continued our run to the hotel, the ex-Alchemist in me couldn’t help but wince at the public display of the supernatural I’d just made—especially with so many recording devices on hand. It went against every principle I’d been taught about hiding the paranormal world from ordinary people, and I tried to console myself with the knowledge that at least no one would be able to pinpoint how exactly the fountain had done what it did. And if the Alchemists were truly concerned with the public reaction, I had no doubt they’d find a way to spin it in the news.
We made it into the Bellagio unchallenged, and I had only a moment to admire the lobby’s beautiful glass flowers as Adrian asked a worker for directions to the tram station. The way was straightforward, but it required leaving the hotel again. We didn’t dare slow down and made the journey at a half jog, which was itself conspicuous. All the Alchemists would have to do when they eventually made their way out of the water was ask if anyone had seen a bride and groom running through there. I could only hope security would detain them and that there’d be a tram right at the station when we arrived.
There wasn’t, but we only had a five-minute wait, and no one showed up in that time. We got on board and sank into a couple of seats, both of us exhausted. “Catch your breath,” said Adrian. “We’re going to the end of the line.”
I nodded, weary from both the sprint and intense magic use. I crossed my legs and pulled off one of my shoes so that I could massage my sore foot. A woman sitting across from me in electric blue Skechers studied my shoes admiringly.
“Those are great,” she said.
“What size do you wear?” I asked.
“Seven.”
“Me too. You want to trade?”
Her eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
“I need something blue to complete the look.” I held up one white shoe, glittering with crystal embellishment. “They’re Kate Spade.”
Her friend elbowed her. “Do it!” she said in a stage whisper.
A little while later, I was suited up in new shoes. They couldn’t save me from the blisters I’d already accrued, but when we reached our stop and I stood, my feet certainly thanked me for the change in support. The tulle at the bottom of the dress settled over them, and no one was any the wiser about what lay beneath. No pursuers awaited us when we stepped out of the tram, and we had an almost leisurely one-block walk to the Blue Lagoon. I entertained a five-minute fantasy that we were here for our honeymoon, out enjoying the sights like any other normal couple. That pleasant daydream was shattered when we stepped into the Blue Lagoon’s lobby and spotted a suited woman leaning against a wall. When she saw us, she immediately straightened up and spoke into an earpiece.
“She’s getting backup,” I said, noting that she only watched us but didn’t move. “They’ve had all afternoon to set up spies in every major hotel out here while I shopped.”
Adrian was undaunted. “Ignore her. We’re home free now. They’ll never get enough people here in time to stop us.” He went straight to the front desk and asked, “Excuse me, could you direct us to your helicopter landing pad?”
I was nearly as surprised to hear those words as the desk attendant was. “Do you have authorization to access it? It’s in a very secure area, not open to general hotel guests.” He looked us over dubiously. “Are you even guests?”
“No,” said Adrian. “But we’re expecting a, uh, ride up there. There should be a helicopter coming in from Olga Dobrova Academy any minute now.” That was another surprise. Olga Dobrova was a small, newish Moroi school up near the border of California and northern Nevada.
The attendant typed something into his computer. “What are your names?” We told him, and he shook his head. “Sorry. You aren’t on the authorized list to go up there.”
“Can you even tell us if it’s arrived?” exclaimed Adrian. “We’re the whole reason it’s here!”
The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you unless you get authorization. Next, please.”
Adrian fixed his gaze squarely on him. “No, you’re going to—”
“He said he can’t help you.”
An impatient man in an Elvis T-shirt shouldered his way in front of Adrian, followed by a similarly dressed woman and a group of kids. They immediately began talking at once, launching into a tale of woe about how their air conditioning didn’t work. We stepped out of the way in dismay, and I noted that the watching Alchemist was gone.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Best laid plans going awry,” muttered Adrian. “This was Jill’s wedding gift: our escape plan out of Vegas. She convinced Lissa that I was in serious danger and got her to order the helicopter sent here to take us back to Dobrova and then catch one of their private planes back to Court. Long journey with all the refueling, but it’d avoid public places and no more chance run-ins with Alchemists. Jill said the helicopter was set to come here, but I guess no one realized that for us to even get to it, there needed to be some kind of paperwork done on this end.”
Although he kept using “us,” I wondered if Lissa knew I was with him or if Jill had simply convinced her to use royal resources based on a story—albeit a true one—about Adrian’s safety.
Adrian soon rallied. “Okay. No problem. We have cash and compulsion. As soon as the Elvis family leaves, we’ll just go back to that guy and—” His eyes searched the lobby, following various employees as they went about their duties. “Scratch that. We don’t need him. Someone around here will crack and tell us the way to that helicopter pad. Doesn’t matter if the hotel doesn’t think we should be there. If we’re there and that helicopter takes us, that’s all that matters.”
Two employees looked completely clueless when he asked, but an off-duty concierge hesitated long enough for Adrian to jump in and seize the opportunity. “You don’t have to do anything,” Adrian assured him. “Just tell us where it is, and there’s a hundred bucks cash in it for you.”