There will be so many clans here, so many people. Every single room in the entire hotel is booked. What if they disguise themselves?"
"We'll feel their presence," Nick said. "When I'm near a Shadowkeeper, my skull pounds like someone is beating it with a hammer. And there's the stench."
Isabella wrinkled up her nose. "Yes, there is that."
"Their smell reminds me of the time this kid left his lunch bag with three hardboiled eggs and a tuna fish sandwich on the bus all day when it was ninety-eight degrees out. That afternoon, when we got back on, it was a barf-fest."
"I've never smelled that, but I'll take your word for it."
"My point is, they won't be undetected. If they come to the convention, they won't get away with it, Isabella."
"We need to tell Damian and Theo."
"No!" Nick said firmly. "Not yet. I don't want to run to them every time I see a shadow or a black bird. I don't want them to feel like they have to be overprotective of me. I want them to count on me. Besides, if we tell Damian and Theo, we'll be in lockdown. We won't be able to do anything."
Isabella bit her lip. "I would miss pizza. All right." She nodded slowly. "But at the very least, we must go get Pasha's family. I don't like thinking of the little mice down there. Sascha can take care of herself, and Penelope and the lions can, too. But mice? Come on!"
***
By the time they reached the stalls, the sun was setting fast over the Las Vegas strip, and the lights were coming up. Nick always felt blissfully dizzy as the neon danced its crazy rhythms and illuminated the world, writhing in syncopated beats.
The two cousins slipped into the stalls with Sascha between them. Isabella set Pasha down, and they followed the scampering mouse as he wove through the legs of horses and around piles of hay until he arrived at a cozy little nest near Maslow's trough.
"Come here, my little angels," Isabella whispered, a tremor in her voice. She scooped up three baby mice, each just the size of her thumb, and handed them to Nick. Then she picked up Pasha and his wife, Dashia. "Come on," she urged Nick. "Let's go. Hurry!"
The two of them turned, and then Nick smelled it. "Please tell me that's like…elephant poop or something," he whispered.
Isabella bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "No. That's Shadowkeeper stench if I ever smelled it."
"Put the mice in your pocket in case we have to make a run for it," he whispered.
The two of them hurriedly tucked the mice away. Isabella put Pasha and Dashia into her jeans, one at each of her hips, peering out, trembling. Nick put the three baby mice in his shirt pocket, where they popped up and looked out, little black eyes wide with fear, noses twitching as they sniffed the air.
"Get down, babies," he urged them.
Maslow began kicking the hay in his stall, his snorts low and rumbling. Soon, the other animals grew agitated as well. Nick heard Penelope's trumpeting call. He grabbed Isabella's hand, and they backed up against his horse. "Maybe we should climb on Maslow and ride out of here."
But it was too late. Sawdust from the floor of the stall blew into their eyes, so Nick and Isabella ran around and hid behind Maslow. Nick patted his horse's neck and whispered in his ear, "Easy, boy. I know you remember."
Maslow was one of the rarest breeds of horses in the world, an Akhal-Teke. He was a magnificent, metallic gold, bred to race long distances. Theo had told Nick that the Russian horses, like Maslow, were known to race over two hundred miles across the plains without water. With Nick urging him on, Maslow had carried Nick and Isabella far into the Nevada desert, outrunning flying beasts in the night in the last showdown with the Shadowkeepers. Maslow had bravely stayed by their side as the evil monk Rasputin, the leader of the Shadowkeepers, had appeared, ready to kill them all. Maslow's muscles twitched.