“Hmm . . . This is going to be a little tougher. Can’t crack something like this with a set of picks.” “Can you manage it?” Marasi asked. “Patience,” MeLaan said. “Bring over that lamp.” Marasi took it from the desk, stretching out the cord to its fullest and directing its light for MeLaan. “Hmmm . . .” MeLaan said, then pressed her hand against the safe, ignoring the dial. Her fingers and palm went translucent, and then her flesh began to wiggle, squeezing into the joints, leaving behind crystalline bones held together with the barest of sinew.
