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through the elevator shaft.
    The doors opened and I cautiously stepped out into what appeared to be an underground garage. The dark concrete maze in front of me twisted in circles, taking guests up to the street surface.
    The lingering smell of diesel and a few drips of oil splattered in front of the elevator doors indicated someone was here not too long ago. I was slightly angry with myself that I hadn’t followed Simone and her mysterious leather bag, but the witchy tingle had pushed me down this trail. After all, this was my first encounter with a secret closet elevator, and my curiosity outweighed my apprehension.
    Simone and Holden were gone. If I wanted to track them, I only had one option—fly. Maybe I would be lucky and find both. Before I could look for them, I needed to navigate through this labyrinthian parking garage. Flying required an open space with lots of height, and my vertical leap was too high for this low ceiling. Getting off the ground in here would be impossible.
    I trekked up the inclined driveway past industrial-sized fans and a few busboys taking smoke breaks. As I emerged on the street level, the desert wind whipped across my face and swept my hair back. The urge to duck back in the wind-free garage was strong. Instead, I tucked my arms in and propelled myself upward in a tight spin.
    A stream of cars circled the blocks of casinos and nightclubs. I flew higher to extend my view of the streets when I saw a lone car driving west of Diamond Towers, outpacing everything in its path. With a hawk-like intensity, I zeroed in on the car and followed it out of the city limits for what I guessed was thirty miles. It was always hard to tell how far I had flown, especially in a chase like this. The headlights dimmed when the driver turned the car on a gravel path and slowed the wheels to a snail’s pace. With the engine still running, he parked the car dangerously close to the edge of the canyon.
    I descended closer to the car, straining my eyes through the darkness. A young, bald man with a distinctively pointy nose, dressed in a suit, stepped from the driver’s side. He retrieved a pair of gloves from his pocket and slipped one over each hand. He took five steps to the rear of the car and pulled the trunk’s lever. I drifted closer to the figure working in the dark, fearful of what I was about to witness. My stomach churned and my hands shook. There in the cavernous pit of the trunk lie Holden Chadsworth’s body, slumped over and lifeless.
    The bald man gathered Holden’s arms, threw him over his shoulder, and carefully walked toward the edge of the cliff. He stumbled under the weight of the broad-shouldered man. When his feet reached the rocky ledge, he dropped the body on the ground, and with a vicious kick, sent him tumbling over the side of the ravine.
    Through the howling winds, I thought I heard him mutter, “Bastard,” as he turned to watch Holden’s limp body plummet over rocks and prickly desert brush. The bald man turned and closed the trunk. He stepped into the driver’s side of the car and peeled the vehicle back onto the road toward the lights of Las Vegas.
    Horror and dread consumed me. There was a tight knot in my chest and a sickening pit in my stomach. I waited until the car was out of sight.
    I inhaled a deep breath of desert air, and I whispered, “Illuminate.”
    A small orb of glowing light levitated in my palm while I descended the rocky terrain of the canyon walls. The sphere of bouncing flames produced just enough light for me to make out the rugged landscape. I floated along the canyon wall, making a zigzag pattern with the orb. The light reflected off something shiny and gold. I recognized Holden’s watch on his limp wrist. He was wrapped around a gnarled bush and wedged between rocks. I didn’t care about the consequences or what effects my actions had. Without thinking, I lowered myself to the canyon floor and dropped to his side. I grabbed his wrist and ran my fingers