She extended a delicate hand and laid it over his. The bones of her wrist were thin, birdlike beneath porcelain skin, but Jonathon knew appearances could be deceiving, especially in Synthia’s case. Her thin hands could wield powerful magic, at least as powerful as any of her associates at UCLA’s Department of Occult Studies. She wore a bracelet on her left wrist, crudely hammered from dull bronze-colored metal and covered with fine engravings. Jonathon had never seen her take it off, even at night. Even during sex.