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.”
The man wavered and then shook his head. “You’ll never get to the pad. The elevator won’t even go to that floor on the Starlight Tower without the right card access, and hardly anyone has it. But . . .”
“Yes?” prompted Adrian. He wasn’t exactly using compulsion, but he certainly seemed very appealing. Or maybe I was just biased.
“An ordinary guest key will get you to the top of the Aurora Tower. From there, go down the west corridor, and there’s a door that goes out on the roof. At that point, you could theoretically walk over the maintenance bridge and climb the ladder up to the heliport.” He eyed my dress skeptically. “Theoretically.”
“Theoretical’s good enough for us,” said Adrian. “But we aren’t guests. I’ll give you another hundred if you can get us a generic guest room access key.”
“Easy,” said the guy. “But I can’t get you one that’ll unlock the door to the roof.”
“We’ll deal with it,” I said, hoping that was true.
The concierge held true to his word, and a few minutes later, he supplied us with a guest keycard. Adrian gave him the cash, and we headed for the Aurora Tower elevator bank.
“How much cash do we have left?” I asked.
“Not much,” Adrian admitted. “A couple hundred. But once we’re on the flight back to Court, it won’t matter.”
The directions and keycard were both good, and before long, we found ourselves at the door leading out to the roof. It was a heavy glass door, split vertically with two panes of glass, and it had a warning sign that said an alarm would go off if it was opened.