The Necromancer Read Online Free PDF

think he had run away and wouldn’t be so foolish as to return to his own headquarters.
    Entering unseen through the underground parking garage, he made his way up to his offices at the top of the building, where he took a long luxurious shower in his private bathroom, washing away the grime and filth of the past few hours. The hot water eased the pain in his right shoulder, which he rotated carefully. Josh had flung Clarent at him during the battle at the barn, and although Dee had managed to turn his aura into a shield before the stone sword hit him, the force of the blow had driven him to the ground. He’d been sure he had dislocated it; only later had he realized that his shoulder was badly bruised but not broken, and for that he was grateful. A break wasn’t serious—his enhanced metabolism would work quickly to repair any damage, or he could use a little of his aura to repair it instantly, but that would draw the Dark Elders and their minions to him.
    The Magician changed into fresh clothes, a nondescript dark blue two-piece suit, a dark blue shirt and a tie with the discreet gold pattern of the fleur-de-lis of St. John’s College, Cambridge. While the kettle in the tiny kitchen boiled water for tea, Dee emptied his safe, stuffing wads of sterling, euros and dollars into a money belt he wore around his waist, hidden under his shirt. There were a dozen passports in as many names at the back of the safe. Dee shoved them into his suit coat pockets. He had been collecting these passports for years and wasn’t about to abandon them now.
    The kettle boiled and the Magician made himself a cup of Earl Gray. Sipping the perfumed tea, he finally turned to look at the rag-wrapped bundle on his desk. A rare smile curled his lips. He might have lost the battle, but he had certainly come away with the greatest prize.
    Clarent and Excalibur. Together. Yesterday, he had held them in his hands and watched as the two swords had fused together to create a single stone sword.
    Even from across the room, Dee could feel the power radiating from the object in long slow waves. If he lowered his guard, he caught the vaguest hints of whispered thoughts in countless languages, only some of which he recognized.
    He suddenly realized—almost with surprise—that finally, after a lifetime of searching, he finally had the four ancient Swords of Power. Two—Durendal and Joyeuse—were hidden in his private apartments in San Francisco, and the remaining two were here on the table before him … or was it now one? And what would happen, he wondered, if he brought this sword in contact with the other two stone swords? And why had they never fused together? They’d been side by side for centuries.
    The doctor took his time finishing the tea, calming his thoughts and putting protective barriers in place before he approached the bundle and unwrapped it. Some magicians used combinations of words—spells and cantrips—to shield their thoughts, but Dee used the oldest of all magical sounds: music. Staring at the desk, he started to hum “Greensleeves,” Queen Elizabeth I’s favorite song. The Queen believed that it had been written by her father, Henry VIII, for her mother, Anne Boleyn. It was a tale Dee knew wasn’t true, but he’d never had the heart to tell her. Regardless, its simple tune and ancient rhythm created a perfect protective spell. Murmuring the words aloud, he approached the desk.
    “Alas, my love, ye do me wrong to cast me off discourteously …”
    There was a definite tremble in his fingers as he carefully peeled away the filthy gray cloth he’d found in the ruined barn, revealing the object it concealed.
    “And I have loved you so long, delighting in your companie …”
    Lying on the polished black marble desk was one of the oldest objects on the planet. It looked like a simple stone sword, but it was more, much, much more. These twin weapons melded together were said to predate the Elders and even the Archons, belonging