The Necromancer by Michael Scott Page B

churned to mud by a host of hooves and claws.
    Then they flapped back into the city and floated lazily on currents and eddies in the air, almost too high to be seen, looping in huge circles, waiting, waiting, waiting.…
    And because they did not know the meaning of time, they were endlessly patient.

Secrets of the Immortal 4 - The Necromancer

CHAPTER TWELVE
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he three shaven-headed men closed in on Dee.
    “There’s a reward for you,” the figure with the tattooed skull announced, walking right up to the doctor. Although the Magician was not tall, this man was at least an inch shorter, but broad and muscular. His lips moved, trying to mimic how the humani smiled, yet his mouth merely twisted into a savage snarl that revealed short pointed yellowed teeth. “A big reward.”
    “Alive,” another added. He had taken up a position to Dee’s right.
    “Though not necessarily unharmed,” the third said from the left. He was the biggest of the three, and wore a dirty green camouflage T-shirt that strained across a heavily muscled chest.
    “Funny how the world turns,” the leader said. His accent was a curious mixture of North London and Eastern European. “Yesterday we were working for you, hunting the Alchemyst. Today we are hunting you.” He rubbed his hands briskly together. “For double the money, too. I think you might have been underpaying us for Flamel and the children.” The short man smiled again. “You always were cheap, Dr. Dee.”
    “I prefer the term frugal,” Dee said calmly.
    “Frugal. That’s a good word. I bet it means ‘cheap.’” He looked at his companions, and they both nodded.
    “Cheap,” one repeated.
    “Miserly,” the largest added.
    “Frugal does not buy loyalty. Maybe if you’d paid us a little extra, we might have been encouraged to look the other way just now.”
    “If I had paid you more, would you?” Dee wondered out loud, curiously.
    “Probably not,” the creature said. “We are hunters. We usually catch what we hunt.”
    The Magician’s thin lips twisted in a nasty smile. “But you failed to capture Flamel and the children yesterday,” he said.
    The small man shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, yes …”
    “Failed,” Dee reminded him.
    The tattooed man stepped closer, lowering his voice as he glanced quickly left and right. “We tracked their scent as far as St. Marylebone Church. Then the Dearg Due turned up,” he added, a touch of horror in his voice.
    Dee nodded, careful to keep his face impassive. The stink coming off the creatures was appalling—a mixture of old meat, stale clothes and unwashed bodies. The cucubuths were hunters, the children of a vampire and a Torc Madra, more beast than man, and he was guessing that at least one of the figures standing around him had a tail tucked in the back of its pants. But even the savage mercenaries were terrified of the Dearg Due, the Red Blood Suckers. “How many were there?” he asked.
    “Two,” the cucubuth leader whispered. “Female,” he added with a grim nod.
    Dee nodded again; the females were far deadlier than the males. “But they didn’t catch Flamel or the twins either,” he said.
    “No.” The creature grinned again, showing his appalling teeth. “They were too busy chasing us. We lost them in Regent’s Park. It was a little embarrassing to be chased through the park by what looked like two schoolgirls,” he admitted. “But capturing you will more than make up for it,” he said.
    “You haven’t captured me yet,” Dee murmured.
    The cucubuth stepped back and spread his arms wide. “What are you going to do, Doctor? You dare not use your powers. Your aura will bring everything—and I do mean everything—that is now in London down on you. And if you do use it and manage to escape, the sulfurous stink will linger about you for hours. You’ll be easily tracked to your lair.”
    The cucubuth was correct, Dee knew. If he used his aura, then every Elder, Dark Elder and immortal human