Dark Kings (Feathers and Fate #1) - Sadie Moss Page 0,61
my waist for a moment. Then he quickly retracts his hands and strides over to his own pegasus.
The not-quite-human caretaker makes an odd, insect-like clicking noise with his mouth, and the pegasi politely trot out through the back of the large greenhouse, the reins and halters glowing, and with a mighty flap of their wings, they launch themselves into the sky.
I’m not sure, but I think the halters and reins have something to do with keeping them invisible as we swoop and circle upward. It’s exhilarating—almost but not quite like when I’m flying myself—and I whoop a little, a wide grin spreading over my face. I really don’t love anything as much as I love flying.
As we get higher, the casino comes into view. I inhale sharply. It looks like those old ideas of what people thought a fairytale palace or Mount Olympus would look like. Shining and gorgeous, emerging from the clouds.
It’s all part of a marketing trick, of course. I’m sure the proprietors want people to be enticed and curious so that they’ll come inside and gamble all their money away. But for a moment, I can’t help but marvel at it.
The pegasi fly up and land on the solid ground of what seems to be a combination of horse stables and a massive driveway entrance for visitors, and I’m startled by how it all looks and feels just like a normal street, like we’re still on the ground instead of hundreds of feet up in the air. I can’t see any guard rails, and my stomach flips over.
I have wings—I’ll be fine. But what about someone else? Has anyone ever stumbled over the edge and plummeted to their death?
Phoenix seems to notice my distress. He rolls his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, sugar, these guys thought of everything. There’s a force field around this whole thing. If you try to just walk off the edge, you bounce back. It’s all good.”
He gives me a lazy grin, then saunters off. Well. I guess that was his attempt to be comforting?
Ford’s nose is wrinkled as he gets down off his pegasus. He looks so angry and imposing all the time that seeing him on a winged horse is hilarious. Not that I’d ever tell him that. I think the worst insult you could possibly give the personification of Wrath is that he looks silly.
“All right,” Beckett says, adjusting his cuffs even though he doesn’t have a thread out of place. “Everyone ready? Let’s go.”
We follow him to the entrance, where a doorman with white gloves opens the door for us. It’s only once I pass him that I realize he has goat legs instead of human legs—he’s a satyr.
Before I can say anything, I’m swept inside by the men around me, and suddenly I’ve got a lot more to think about than a satyr as a doorman.
This is… incredible.
In the most literal sense of the word. I’m having trouble believing that this is actually all real and in front of my eyes.
The whole room is glittering, and it looks like everything’s coated in gold. I can feel my mouth falling open as I stare around me. Everyone is dressed to the nines, and I’m sure this is fancier than any casino you’d find in Las Vegas. Besides, the casinos in Vegas don’t have strange creatures roaming around their floors.
Just like at the fighting pit where we picked up Ford, there are creatures of all kinds everywhere.
Satyrs like the doorman seem to be functioning as both waiters and guests. There are no vampires—or none that I can see anyway, except maybe one woman who’s wearing all black and red and has every inch of herself covered from the harsh, sparkling lights, including a lace veil hanging down over her face. But I can’t tell for sure.
Unlike the fighting pit, nobody here is angry, violent, or thirsting for blood. They remind me of the people at Remington’s restaurant, actually. Everyone’s here because they want one thing.
They want to indulge.
To be fulfilled.
My companions seem to feel right at home here, looking around, each of their eyes flaring as they take in the power of the people giving into the sins of sloth, greed, gluttony, and wrath.
But I don’t feel at home at all. I feel like I’ve stepped into somewhere new and exotic; terrifying but strangely exciting too.
The men are right, I realize.
I’ve lived here for thirty years, and there’s still so little I know about this world.