Time Spell by T.A. Foster

tingling on overload as I carefully placed the file back as I had found it. Finally, in the last drawer on the left, I found a small, green book labeled Addresses . I started with A, not knowing Simone’s last name and still hoping the man was brazen enough to list his mistress in his personal book. The third name under D, Simone Davis, 2122 Vegas Blvd., The Diamond Towers, Suite 710. Scribbled below her address in what I guessed to be Holden’s writing were the notes: red roses, emeralds, size 4, chocolates . Well, he was a cheating man, but at least he was an observant, considerate cheating man.
    I took another picture in case I needed to reference the numbers again, slid the address book back into its snug spot, and left the office.
    I didn’t know where the Diamond Towers was located in the maze of casinos, but I took a gamble that, from the sky, I would probably be able to find it. Just in case, I brushed up behind an unsuspecting tourist in the lobby and peered over her Vegas map.
    “Hon, hon, if we take the fifteen out tomorrow, we can make it to Hoover Dam before lunch.” The husband looked none too pleased at this suggestion from his wife, but I hurried out of the revolving front door in a free triangle wedge before I could hear how the wife resolved their travel squabble.
    This time, instead of leaping into a downward spiral, I raced to the corner closest to the traffic-free zone, wrapped my arms tightly around my torso, and accelerated upward into the Vegas sky.
    I remember the first time my parents took me out into the night sky to try my wings. At eight years old, I was having a hard time dealing with my skills and my parents’ weird quirks. I felt more different and alone than excited about having magical powers. Granted, at eight, I could barely light a match with my finger or whip up a puppy love potion, but the magic inside me was growing and I was resisting. That fall night was crisp and clear. My parents waited for the right occasion, when I could fly with little interference from the regular world.
    “Honey, this is such a big moment for you,” my mother gushed repeatedly.
    “She’s right, you know.” My dad nudged me to smile. “Not every little girl gets to fly. You’re something special, Ivy.”
    I looked at both of them, arms crossed and resentful, because I wasn’t a “little girl,” I was a little witch. A little witch who had to keep secrets and spend time practicing magic and reading potions. And now, on a Saturday night in October, I was out after midnight in my backyard with my parents getting ready to fly over our neighborhood while my other friends lay soundly tucked in their warm beds. Humph!
    I laughed at that little girl now. Flying had become my escape, my way of coping with the magic. I loved it and the rush it gave me. On nights like this one, it came in handy.
    According to the map, Diamond Towers was west of the hotel, only a few blocks away. I managed my speed and only elevated two hundred feet from the ground so I could read the signs and recognize Holden if I had a chance to catch him exiting his car.
    The night desert air was cool, and my eyes started to water from the chill. I slowed down in time to see the Diamond Towers ahead of me. The towers were wrapped in glitter lights and were shaped like diamonds—two strange diamonds erupting from the desert ground.
    I surveyed the hotel entrance for a place to touch down. My eyes were still watering, but I thought I saw the back of Holden’s head through the glass doors of the lobby. The doorman nodded at him, and I could make out his lips moving: “Good evening, Mr. Chadsworth.”
    I reached into my pocket for a tissue to dab my eyes, and when I looked up, he was gone. The tears were really rolling—it must have been the combination of desert dust and the sting of the flight air. There was no tissue in my pocket of course. I tried not to travel with anything other than my phone. I didn’t want to take the chance