Page 6 of The Last Necromancer
I spun round and backed away from the two burly men. "Don't touch me," I snapped.
One of them held up his hands. "Apologies, boy, but we need to speak to you."
"No, he needs to come with us," the other man countered with a roll of his eyes. He was a little taller than the first fellow, and a lot uglier. His features were put together like a roughly hewn cliff beneath the craggy ridge of his brow. A curved scar sliced across his cheek and pulled down the corner of one eye. His small mouth and thin lips seemed out of proportion to the rest of him.
"Right," said the first man. His handsome face was a stark contrast to his friend's. Fair hair flopped down from beneath his hat and fell into wide gray eyes that blinked at me without guile. He smiled a dazzling smile. "Come on, lad. We'll see that you get a hot meal." He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "And a bath."
"I don't want food and a bath," I said, hoping they couldn't detect my lie. "I want to know where I'm going and why."
"Can't tell you that," said the bigger man. "Orders are to bring you back."
They seemed harmless enough, and the offer of food and a bath sounded wonderful. Too wonderful. I'd heard of street children being lured into slavery and prostitution in just such a manner. I lived by the rule that if something sounded too good to be true, it usually was. That rule had kept me safe so far, and I wasn't about to abandon it now.
"Why me?" I asked them. Had they heard what had happened in the holding cell? If so, how had they traced me here so quickly? Money must have changed hands, and a few key questions asked of the right people. The police weren't well enough connected, so these fellows weren't officials. Whoever they were, I doubted they had good intentions.
"Dunno," said the ugly one with a shrug of his heavy shoulders. "We just carry out orders."
Convenient. "What did they offer you to rat on me?" I asked Stringer.
"Enough." Stringer shoved me in the back. "Go on. Go. We don't want you round here no more. You're trouble, Charlie, and your freak tricks will bring more people to our den if you don't bugger off. Word's out now, so you gotta go. Right, lads?"
"Right," chimed in the other boys, even Mink. I shot them all withering glares then turned back to the two newcomers. They'd taken a step closer to me and they held themselves tense, as if ready to spring. If I were going to avoid being caught, I would have to be quick.
"I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me why," I said.
The ugly one blew out an exasperated breath. "Bloody hell, stop being a stubborn little turd and just come with us."
The pretty one rolled his eyes. "What my friend is trying to say is that we mean you no harm."
"Unless you don't copperate."
"It's co-operate, idiot, and well done. You've just made the boy soil his trousers."
"I'm not afraid of you," I told him.
"You should be. Death won't be as civil as us."
Death? They meant to kill me if I didn't go with them?
Pretty held up his hands. "I didn't mean to frighten you, lad, but—"
"Bloody hell," muttered Ugly. "We ain't got time for this. Grab him and let's go. Death'll have our guts if we take too long."
"Death will come and do the job himself, like he always does when you mess up."
"Me?"
I turned and ran.
"Jesus," growled Pretty. "Get back here! It won't go well for you, that way."
Their footsteps pounded behind me, but they were slow and I managed to streak ahead. "You should've grabbed him," I heard Ugly say.
"You're not in charge here, I am."
"You bloody well are not. He is."
"He's not here!"
