Dill finished unscrewing the plate and dropped the screws in his pocket. He used the corner of the plate he'd just removed on an edge of the softly glowing spirit cage until it was far enough out for him to grasp with his fingers. He turned the cube over in his hands. “Remind me what the annie-lackey sigil looks like?”
“Animus Laqueus.” Harold looked over his arm, holding his breath against the pungent scent of the zombie. He really didn't last long between meals before he started to deteriorate. He pointed to the sigil. “It's this one.”
“Right, yes.” Dill squeezed one eye between his thumb and forefinger.
“ What are you doing?”
“Manual focus.” Dill grinned. “The eyes seem to be the first to go without regular top-ups.” He pulled a screw out of his pocked and used it to deface the sigil. “What happens if I cross out the wrong one?”
“Bad things.” Harold took the cube from him. “Bad things happen.” He looked at the marred face of the spirit cage and took a deep breath. “Phasmatis phasmatis discedo illic haud postulo vobis moror.” The blue glow faded, just like it had at his mother's house. “There.”
“Good work, old chap.” Jasfoup took it from him and shook it until the spirit trickled out. “Giacometti Pulleo.” He checked his list. “No, not one of mine, unfortunately.” He dropped it on the floor. “Next?”
Harold and Dill moved on to the second golem.
Jasfoup tutted and clapped his hands three times. “Chop chop, lads, we haven't got all night.”