" The curtain behind the counter whipped aside and a woman emerged dressed in flowing purple robes, a silk headscarf, and a lace shawl. She wore heavy makeup, her eyelids smoky blue and her eyes framed by thick black lashes. As she surveyed us, she adjusted a bronze tiara just above her hairline. It was strung with delicate dangling chains that swayed hypnotically across her forehead.

"Greetings weary travellers," she said. "I sense that you - "

"Nope," Jackaby said and pushed passed up back out of the shop. "

― William Ritter , Ghostly Echoes (Jackaby, #3)