Dee’s right hand moved. It started low on his hip, palm up, rising at an angle, twisting in midair, so that the palm caught the creature under the chin. The tattooed cucubuth’s teeth snapped together, and the force of the blow lifted him off his feet and sent him sprawling across the cobblestones. Dee’s right leg shot out, catching the biggest creature high on the inside of the thigh, numbing his entire leg, dropping him to the ground into a puddle of dirty water, a look of shocked surprise on his broad brutish face.

The third cucubuth darted away from Dee. “Mistake, Doctor,” he snarled, “big mistake.”

“I’m not the one who made the mistake,” Dee whispered. He took a step closer, hands loose at his sides. The Magician had survived for centuries because people always underestimated him. They looked and saw a slight gray-haired man. Even those who knew his reputation imagined him to be nothing more than a scholar. But Dee was more-much, much more. He had been a warrior. When he had still been fully human, and later when he had become immortal, Dee had traveled across Europe. It was a lawless time, when brigands and outlaws roamed the roads, and even the cities themselves were not safe. If a man was to survive, he had to be able to protect himself. Many people had made the mistake of underestimating the English doctor. It was a mistake he never allowed them to repeat. “I don’t need to use my aura to hurt you,” the Magician said softly.

“I am cucubuth,” the creature said arrogantly. “You may have surprised my brothers, but you will not be able to use the same trick on me.”

The Magician heard groaning behind him and glanced over his shoulder to find the cucubuth leader scrambling to his feet. He was holding his jaw in both hands and his eyes looked unfocused.

“You have injured my little brother.”

“I’m sure he’ll make a full recovery,” Dee said. Cucubuths were almost impossible to kill, and even possessed the vampire ability to regenerate injured limbs.

The largest of the three came slowly and painfully to his feet. He stood awkwardly balanced on his left leg, rubbing his right furiously, trying to bring feeling back into it. “And you’ve ruined my jeans,” he growled. The seat and legs of his jeans were black with water.

“What are you going to do now, Doctor?” the unharmed skinhead asked.

“Come a little closer and I’ll show you.” Dee’s smile was as ugly and inhuman as the cucubuth’s.