The cube lent a calming glow to Jasfoup's dark fingers, highlighting the talons that sprang from his fingertips. He turned the cube over and over, studying the six sides.
Harold peered over his cupped hand. “Are you looking for the animus laqueus? It's under your thumb, there.”
“Thank you, Harold.” Jasfoup twisted the cube around and scratched through the symbol. “Phasmatis phasmatis discedo illic haud postulo vobis moror.”
The blue glow faded from the cube but nothing else happened.
“Is that it?” Dill looked across at them. “Is he free now?” He pulled out his mobile phone. “Come on, Sam. Give me a message. Send me a sign. A text, a media message... Flick the lights on and off or something.” He looked around the room then back at Jasfoup. “Didn't it work?”
“Maybe it worked and sent his spirit to the next plane.”
“Where would he go? He wasn't ready to move on. He had the high-score in 'ApocalypseNow'.”
Harold patted his arm. “He's probably gone to a better place. It's what happened to the spider demon at mum's.”
“He can't. He can't leave me.”
“Man stuck.” Lucy yawned and reached for the cube. “Man stuck inside the bottle.”
“He is?” Jasfoup pressed the cube into her hands. It was too big for her to hold in her fingers but the moment she touched it, a grey shadow detached from it, gathering like smoke in the hollow of her palm until it resembled a slug or an eel, coiling and uncoil, becoming squat and fat then long and thin in a moment.
“Is that Sam?” Dill came over. “All right, mate?”