"Not sure going solo would have been a good idea either," he said. "The ones who did... well, I feel bad for the poor girl selling popcorn and cotton candy at the exit."
He looked over towards the House of Mirrors. It seemed innocuous, for all the paint and odd reflections done with silvered cardboard and shiny bits of tin. But with his other senses, he could detect the cloud of power around it, swelling and pulsing. "Mostly... confused people. Unsettled, not fit in their own skin. Just... wrong, if you watch them. It's subtle, but you'd see it. Most people wouldn't, I think. You know the sort of thing to look for, though."
He moved his hand from her shoulder downwards until it was holding onto one of hers. He needed something to ground him, to try and fight back the havoc his head was playing on him. All his thoughts wanted to turn to Phaedra, to the lovely vampire with the skin like malleable stone.
He gripped her hand. Murphy. Good old Murphy. His best friend, with her solid dependability and unyielding determination. They worked together so well, him with the magic and unpredictability and thinking so far out of the box it was practically in the next country, and her with her solidity her practical sense and her unshakable faith in law and order.
"I wonder if one whammy cancels another out," he thought, half-muttering to himself.
But to her, he asked, "Are you thinking that we should go and check that one out?"