“Drive,” he told the driver. “Now.”
The driver looked more than a little alarmed at the woman beating on his cab, especially when the male Alchemist joined him. “Go!” I urged.
The driver hit the gas. “Where to?”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, I said, “The Witching Hour.”
Adrian gave me a sharp look. “You sure that’s a good idea?” he asked in a low voice, as the driver pulled into traffic. “The Moroi cooperate with the Alchemists.”
“I’m playing a hunch.” Seeing his surprised look, I said, “Well, it is Las Vegas.”
The taxi took us midway down the Strip, and as we pulled up, I warned Adrian, “There’ll likely be an Alchemist or two here waiting for us. Don’t search around for them or act like you notice one if you see them. Just walk straight inside and head for the restroom. I’ll do the same. When you come out, don’t wait for me. Go play cards or something. I’ll find you.”
That brought a frown to his face, but he didn’t argue as we paid and got out of the cab. The Witching Hour was no place I’d ever been, but it was well known in Alchemist circles. It was a Moroi-run casino and hotel, and while plenty of humans patronized it, its owners made sure it was chock-full of lots of things that catered to Moroi needs. We walked straight inside, and a Moroi bellman politely held the door open for us. Inside, it was like any other Las Vegas establishment: an array of lights and noise and far-ranging emotions. Adrian followed orders perfectly, going straight for the restrooms to the side of the lobby. I ducked inside the women’s room and into a stall.
There, I took out Ms. Terwilliger’s invisibility amulet and put it around my neck, casting the spell that activated it. Even with the amulet to help, it still required a lot of power, but the results were equally powerful. It would last much longer than what I’d cast in re-education, and now I could look people in the eye. Only those who knew Sydney Sage was standing there invisible, right in front of them, would be able to see through the spell’s magic. With my camouflage in place, I headed out of the bathroom, waiting for another patron to open the door first.
Outside, Adrian was just leaving the men’s room. I trailed behind him as he ordered a drink at the bar and then sought out a poker table. The drink was nonalcoholic, but did contain blood, which was an added bonus of this stop since I knew he hadn’t had any in a while. Once he was seated and dealt in, I came up behind him and whispered in his ear, “Do not turn around. I’m here with you, invisible. If you look at me, it’ll probably break the spell. Nod if you understand.”
He nodded.
I scanned around and leaned back to him. “I think I’ve spotted one Alchemist in the room so far, watching you. Keep playing a few rounds. No one’ll grab you yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if another one or two showed up soon.”
I took a quick walk around, made note that the main security and managerial offices were on the first floor, and then returned to Adrian. I continued monitoring the room, while still pausing occasionally to appreciate how he played. He was pretty good at it, making me glad I’d never caved to his strip poker requests. I was actually good at it too, but my gameplay came from statistical analysis. That couldn’t stand up to the ability to read the truth in other players.
A second Alchemist soon appeared on the game floor. “Okay,” I murmured to Adrian. “Finish this hand, and then go get a room. Check in under your own name, it’s fine, and make sure you repeat the room number loudly. Then go to it. They’ll follow you. When they do, don’t hesitate to get in a loud, showy fight with them—but make sure they attack first. I’ll take care of everything else. And when the authorities question you, make sure you make a big deal about who you are and how wronged you are.”
He complied without missing a beat, and I carefully followed him to the front desk, staying out of his line of vision. The Alchemists followed as well, hovering within earshot. When he got his room key, he said, “Room 707, huh? Sounds like a lucky number.” The two Alchemists exchanged glances and headed for the elevator. Adrian caught the next one up. As for me, I headed down an out-of-the-way corridor on the first floor and picked up an in-house phone, making sure no one was around to see the phone hovering in the air. I dialed security.
“Please help!” I exclaimed. “There’s a man being attacked in the seventh-floor hallway!”
After that, I had to hope my gamble had paid off. I went back to where I’d seen the main security office and waited near it. Ten minutes later, four hotel security guards came downstairs with Adrian and the two Alchemists. The group entered the security office, and I slipped in after them, careful to stay out of Adrian’s line of sight. We were soon joined by the day manager.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
A guard started to speak, but Adrian cut him off. “I’ll tell you what happened! I was minding my own business, when these two”—he pointed at each of the Alchemists in turn—“jumped me for no reason! Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Adrian Ivashkov. Maybe you’ve heard of my late aunt, her royal majesty Queen Tatiana Ivashkov? And maybe you know one of my best friends, the current queen?”
That got the manager’s attention, and he looked the Alchemists over. It was clear he knew who and what they were. “We don’t see many of you around here.”
“This man is a criminal,” protested one of the Alchemists. “He and a human girl destroyed one of our facilities! It’s our right to bring them in.”
“Them?” asked the manager. “I only see one.”
“She’s here somewhere,” insisted the other Alchemist.
One of the guards gestured to a large monitor. “We’ve got footage from the casino, sir. Lord Ivashkov was alone.” He played a feed of Adrian at the poker table, and I prayed no one thought to check footage of us entering outside. “And here’s the attack.”
New footage showed the two Alchemists lying in wait on the seventh floor when Adrian got out of the elevator. They clearly made the first move, trying to grab and subdue him with a tranquilizer gun of their own. Adrian fought back gallantly, not just with spirit—which I’d expected—but by actually throwing a punch at one of them. Wolfe would’ve been so pleased. Other patrons emerged from their rooms, and soon the guards arrived, breaking everything up.
“This is unacceptable,” said the manager angrily. “You can’t walk into my hotel and try to assault a Moroi! I don’t care who you are. You have no right to do that to us.”
“He’s guilty of all sorts of crimes,” the first Alchemist said. “You have no right to keep us from bringing him in for questioning.”
“Where’s your proof?” asked the manager. “And where’s your mystery girl? You’ve clearly made a mistake.” He turned to another of the guards. “Escort them out.”
“They’ve been following me all day,” said Adrian. “How do we know they won’t come back?”
“No one is going to intimidate our citizens,” growled the manager. “Alert the rest of your staff. Scour this place for all signs of Alchemists, as well as the periphery and tunnels. Remove any of them from our property and put in a call to Court. You’re safe as long as you stay here, Lord Ivashkov.”
“Thank you,” said Adrian gravely. He stood up. “If this is finished, I’m going to go to my room and make some calls of my own to Court.”