“I suppose you are correct and there is a point for this. Both the zone and the clientele are hazardous apart and possibly deadly together. And the owner must survive until they can retire away from this place.”
Integral blew out smoke as she leaned to pick the closest book that was faintly glowing red. She squinted when the lights of the others faded. Was about bloody time they did; they were incredibly distracting. Neither the spine nor the cover had any inscription. It was plain except for the illustration of two snakes entwined and framed by half-eaten wings.
Mercury. A primordial element of Alchemy. Mercury was equivalent to the Greek Hermes. Wings stood for the Bird of Hermes. Those who never learned the Ripley Scroll and the basic pillar would never find anything related to Alchemy. That could limit the number of customers, but at the very least nobody would be sued about handling dangerous information to unsuspecting teenagers that were trying to mimic television shows.
This was America.
“The Bird of Hermes Is My Name, Eating My Wings To Make Me Tame,” she murmured, snapping the tome shut. The eerie flash returned to the bookshelves, but she had decided she would take this one and perhaps another. This one would be for sentimental value and morbid curiosity if somebody else, aside of her family, had actual success in the making of the Bird of Hermes.
“Oddly enough, the frustration would be the main reason I could lose it,” Integra admitted, turning her attention to the man once more. He was human, or at least he did not have any extra appendage or missing heartbeat at sight. He appeared to breath and that ruled out vampire most of the time. “It appears those who run this hellhole aren’t quite human.” She snorted. Simply pathetic: humans becoming monsters’ dogs? “In the United Kingdom, humans are in charge of the supernatural population while here it seems to be the opposite case,” she remarked with a voice dripping in irritation, “That is true madness.”