“Hold it for me,” he said quietly, in English.

Christina knew that her mother couldn’t see them from the other room–and she didn’t need to unfold the handkerchief to know that it was wrapped around the little statue, for she could feel the cold of the stone through the linen.

She gave him a quizzical glance, for earlier he had said that he carried the thing around with him now–and he had told her not to touch it. His expression was impossible to read behind his thick lenses, though, so she nodded and tucked it into the pocket of her frock and went back to her sketching.

But her rabbit began to go wrong under her darting pencil–the hind legs and back seemed broken now, and the creature’s face began to take on a human-like expression that somehow expressed both scorn and pleading–and when she heard her brother Gabriel gasp at the sight of it, she crumpled the paper.
–Tim Powers, Hide Me Among the Graves. Tim Powers + Christina Rossetti = yes please.