" Six sorcerers were killed in a Dublin bar,” said Skulduggery, “three nights ago. The one witness we found who would talk said that a big man in a metal mask took them apart, and afterwards he spoke with a pathetic little zombie who cowered and wailed. That was you, am I right?”
“No,”Scapegrace said. He pointed at Thrasher, who was grabbing a lamp post and pulling himself up off the ground. “It was him.”
“Oh,” Thrasher said.
“We’ve let you wander around,” Skulduggery said, “because we reasoned you’re not that big a threat. We didn’t think you’d be too eager to recruit more members, not after your little horde went crazy the last time. But now you have proven yourselves to be a nuisance the world could do without.”
“Spare my master!” Thrasher wailed. “End my life, but leave my master alone! I beg of you!”
“I agree with him,” Scapegrace said.
Thrasher jumped between Skulduggery and Scapegrace. “Master, run! I’ll hold them off!”
“You couldn’t hold off a sneeze,” Scapegrace muttered.
“But I’ll die trying!”
Thrasher lunged at Skulduggery, who pushed him towards Valkyrie, who stepped sideways and tripped him as he passed. "

― Derek Landy , Mortal Coil (Skulduggery Pleasant, #5)