Coins can manipulate

"Maybe you got lucky," I said. "As long as they have the coins, 'hard to kill' doesn't begin to describe it."
"Ah," Thomas said. "That explains it, then."
"What?" I asked.
Thomas reached into his pants pocket and drew out a silver coin a little larger than a nickel, blackened with age, except for the shape of a single sigil, shining cleanly through the tarnish. "When I gutted Captain Ugly, this went flying out."
"Hell's bells!" I spat, and flinched away from the coin.
Thomas twitched in surprise, and the Hummer went into a slow slide on the snow. He turned into it and regained control of the vehicle without ever taking his eyes off me. "Whoa, Harry. What?"
I pressed my side up against the door of the Hummer, getting as far as I physically could from the thing. "Look, just...just don't move, all right?"
He arched an eyebrow. "Ooookay. Why not?"
"Because if that thing touches your skin, you're screwed," I said. "Shut up a second and let me think."
The gloves. Thomas had been wearing gloves earlier, when fingering Justine's scarf. He hadn't touched the coin with his skin, or he'd already know how much trouble he was in. Good. But the coin was a menace, and I strongly suspected that the entity trapped inside it might be able to influence the physical world around it in subtle ways-enough to go rolling away from its former owner, for example, or to somehow manipulate Thomas into dropping or misplacing it.
Containment. It had to be contained. I fumbled at my pockets. The only container I was carrying was an old Crown Royal whiskey bag, the one that held my little set of gaming dice. I dumped them out into my pocket and opened the bag.


Small Favor Chapter 14, Page 111-112