12
Madrid, Spain.
Martin sat in the corner of the drab hotel room reading the Toledo Book of Days. The modern city streets teemed with life outside the window, cars honking, the bustle of commuters, but he seemed oblivious, his mind anchored into centuries gone by. Morgan sat by the window, remaining as still as possible to allow him to stay deep in concentration. She watched as the frown deepened between his eyebrows. He reached up and ran his hand through the shock of blonde hair, tugging it so hard that it stood up at all angles. She knew that Martin would be itching to get this knowledge into the ARKANE database as soon as possible. He had a scanner back in London that would photograph the text and index it entirely, but for now, they would have to make do with reading it the old-fas
