“None of us here do,” Integral observed aloud, turning her attention to the other patrons in the corridor. Everybody was utterly immersed in their quest as if they were in a thrall. “It must be the lighting or the lavender scent that keeps the clientele from causing ruckus amongst themselves.” They were diverse in species. What could assure if one of the vampires didn’t feel like giving a midnight snack during his reading? Or if the hunters itched for exercise against their closest undead fiend? The method was absolutely ingenious and yet disturbingly dangerous. She disliked to be placed under spells. Alchemy was reliable, scientific and wasn’t rule by asking favours to pagan identities. Raw magic, on the other hand, was out limits.
She paused, catching his staring to the bookshelves. She hadn’t paid attention what he was reading. The own crimson glows captured her concentration. Was that to protect the customer’s confidentially from others? Whatever reason they had, they were beginning to prompt a migraine.
“Tell me that you can see the red lights,” she inquired, wondering for a moment if she was the only one. It was highly improbable, but she didn’t take anything from certain or granted in Los Angeles. This wasn’t London. The knight continued the conversation because that man was the only one who wasn’t caught in the zombie-like trance. “Or I would have to begin to doubt about my sanity," she finished wryly.