holy knife

“I AM A JAILER, NOT A BOUNTY HUNTER,” Alfred replied. “PERHAPS TO THE SHORES OF THE LAKE—IF YOU USED THE ATHAME FROM THE ARMORY.”
An athame is a magical tool—think magic wand, but in the form of a knife. They’re powerful tools for ritual magic.
I had one locked up in the island’s armory. I’d stolen it from the God of the Underworld, from the same shelf as the Shroud and the Crown of Thorns. If it truly was what I was pretty sure it was, then using it was going to put me in a long-term pickle.
But if the storm coming for Chicago was as bad as I thought it was going to be, not using it would be unthinkable.
“To the shore, eh?” I said. “All right. Get me the knife. And a binding crystal. And the placard.”
“YOU WISH TWO OF THE WEAPONS?”
Alfred sounded … slightly intimidated.
That’s the kind of power level we were talking about.
“Sure,” I said in the most cavalier fashion I could. “After all, that’s only half the arsenal. And as soon as I leave, I want the full defensive measures of the island activated. Nothing gets in or out. Understood?”


Peace Talks Chapter 35, Page 335-336