SIXTEENTARYN
I’ve frequented lots of huge cities that cater to a robust night life—New York City, Tokyo, Paris, and dozens of others—so I assumed Vegas would be more of the same. Just another metropolis lit up with billions of LEDs like digital fireworks on a perpetual loop.
I was wrong.
Although I made it a point to stay far away from Vegas until now, I had a healthy respect for what the Night Court accomplished. It wasn’t enough for them to simply adapt and thrive in the barren land they were banished to. They rebuilt their kingdom from the ground up. And instead of isolating themselves from humans, they seduced them with a neon empire of debauchery and used them to achieve wealth and power.
Before the exile, the court-born power all Dark Fae possessed was called the Yearning. They could invade your mind and uncover all the wicked, depraved thoughts you kept secreted away—everything from the smallest of vices to the most debased of sins—then they’d implant the overwhelming urge to act on them.
The energy here is its own entity; a living, breathing thing that seeps into your pores and burrows into the darkest shadows of your soul. It fosters an environment that encourages you to shatter your own inhibitions and ignore your better judgement. The Darks have the same power here as they did back in Faerie, and they do it all without the benefit of magic.
It’s fucking brilliant.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” I say with a nod.
As we walk toward the massive hotel, we use the glamours that make us near invisible to humans. No one is paying us any attention, yet it doesn't stop Finn from staying on high alert, looking around like he expects Edevane to pop out at any second. I hope he fucking does. I want a chance to end that motherfucker.
Our current mission is inside the Bellagio, a hotel and casino modeled after a resort town on the shores of Lake Como in Northern Italy. Ironically, I’ve been to the real one several times in the past. In fact, I’ve been to most, if not all, of the real places the Vegas hotels are modeled after.
Stepping through the revolving doors of the Bellagio Hotel, we’re immediately enveloped by opulence: the cool, lily-scented air, the polished marble floor echoing under my heels, and above, Dale Chihuly’s glass sculpture blooming across the ceiling. The grand staircase to the left glints with gold filigree, while the murmur of conversation of guests milling about and clinking glasses from the Petrossian Bar adds a soothing hum.
Approaching the Conservatory and Botanical Gardens, I’m drawn in by a kaleidoscope of colors and the vibrant sounds of nature. The entrance is framed by towering floral arches, an explosion of roses, sunflowers, and ivy that form a living gateway.
Inside, the theme “Majesty: The Grandeur of Nature” comes to life with stunning artistry. Massive peacock sculptures made entirely of flowers display their feathered splendor, each petal meticulously placed to capture the brilliance of real plumage. Water cascades from an ornate fountain into a crystal-clear pond, surrounded by lush greenery and delicate blossoms.
The air is perfumed with the intoxicating scents of jasmine and gardenia, mingling with the earthier tones of moss and fern. Visitors wander through this botanical paradise, their faces lit with wonder, and as I step farther in, the sheer beauty and tranquility of the scene envelop me. The whimsy of it reminds me of Faerie, and a pang of homesickness I haven’t felt in ages hits me out of nowhere. Drawing in a slow breath, I push the unwelcome feeling away.
“Here we are,” Finn says. “Skies of glass where flowers bloom. That’s half of the clue solved already. What’s the rest of it again?”
“‘Loosened stone is parchment’s tomb. One is done with petal fire, two then three unearth the spire.’”
“Any ideas on what any of that means?”
“None. I guess we should start with looking for anything resembling a loose stone.” He arches a brow at me that says he doesn’t think I could’ve suggested anything more basic. “If you have a more profound idea, Einstein, feel free to share it with the class.”
“As a matter of fact…” He scans the room for several seconds like he’s hoping the answer will jump out at him from one of the displays. Finally, he turns to me and says, “Yeah, I got nothing. Let’s do your thing.”
My dramatic eye roll is cut off by my squeak of surprise when he starts walking and yanks me along with my hand still in his. The conservatory is fairly busy, but the people naturally move around us without so much as even looking in our direction. As we make our way down the path in front of the North bed, we study the display itself and the tiles along the path that make up the raised beds.
“You know,” I say, as I bend down to run my fingers across a couple of tiles that don’t appear as flush as the rest. “Something I don’t understand is how whatever we’re looking for was placed here to begin with. Vegas wasn’t even a thing back in 1903, right?”
He shakes his head. “The Golden Gate hotel opened in 1905. It was the first establishment of what my father envisioned for this city. He did a lot of celebrating the night of the grand opening.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“No, that’s what my birthday tells me,” he says with a wry grin. “My grandmother knew about me at least three years before I was born, but I doubt she told my dad because he didn’t want another kid. Which means she wouldn’t have involved him in hiding whatever it is we’re looking for.”
“What about your mother?”
“What about her?”
“Would Moira have recruited her to help her?”
He thinks about that as we move on to the West Bed, searching for anything that might resemble a loose stone. “I don’t think my mom would’ve been able to keep it a secret from me all this time, but I suppose it’s possible.”
“If we can’t find what we’re looking for here, it might be worth asking her or anyone else who was around back then.”
“Like Seamus,” he says, his eyebrows raising. “He was my father’s best friend and advisor and he’s like an uncle to us, but I think his loyalty would be to Faerie first. He would’ve done whatever Moira asked and kept her secrets if he thought Faerie’s future depended on it.”
“Sounds like he’s our best bet, then.” Turning my head to the left, I gasp at what I see. “Gods, I can’t believe it.”
“Did you find the stone? Where is it?”
I shake my head. “No, sorry, it’s not that. Come on,” I say, leading him to the far end of the West Bed where I’ve found a piece of my childhood. Hundreds of pale blueish-purple flowers, each with five elongated petals with wavy edges that stretch up toward the sky. I crouch down and cup one of the unique blossoms.
“They’re native to Tír Tairngire. I knew my mom gifted some to a human long before I was born, but I never came across any since being in this realm.” I smile up at him. “I had so much fun with these as a kid.”
“Doing what, making flower crowns?” he asks wryly.
“No, smartass. When I was a kid, we discovered that they react to our power’s heat by forming images. We made a game out of guessing what they’d choose next.”
“Wonder if these would react the same way without Faerie’s magic.”
Nostalgia rises in my chest. Lifting my open palm in front of my face, I summon a small flame, then blow on it. The heat fans out over the tops of the flowers, making them sway slightly as though disturbed by a light breeze, then…nothing.
Straightening, I give a careless shrug to hide my inner child’s disappointment. “Guess we have our answer. Come on, let’s keep looking.”
