Disclaimer: Are you kidding? You think that I would own this amazing series? Flattering, but not a chance.

YES! I LOVE THIS SERIES AND I'VE BEEN MEANING TO WRITE A FANFIC ABOUT IT. IT'S JUST THAT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT UNTIL NOW BECAUSE I WASN'T SURE I COULD REPRODUCE BARTEMAEUS'S AWESOMENESS. I still can't, but I tried. If you like it, don't worry, I'll come out with another chapter... sometime. Hopefully.

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Bartimaeus

I was not pleased in the least. Putting aside the fact that the kid was using a five-thousand year old djinni to decorate his bloody birthday cake*, I had to draw flowers on the thing and decorate it the best I could or face the wrath of his inversion spell. As if that wasn't enough, you know what else? He had Castor helping. Castor! The djinni who didn't know how to be gentler than an angered ram let loose in a china shop.

*No, really. The brainless fool later cut his finger when he tried to cut out a slice of cake. He somehow thought it was a good idea to push back his toilet-plunger sized sleeves while holding the knife in his left hand

I flinched and turned around with a dangerous glint in my eyes as I heard yet another crash.

"Bartimaeus! I seem to have dropped- "

The portly man dressed in an apron and chef's hat dodged a small detonation thrown at him, and I was left staring at the huge hole gouged onto the floor in dismay.

"Now look what you made me do!" I cried, throwing my hands up.

"What did you do that for?!" The idiot had the audacity to splutter.

"If this were any other circumstance, Castor, you'd be dead. As it is, we're apparently supposed to cook the food for the little brat's party guests, and they're arriving in an hour. If you break another good dish, I will make sure you don't reach the Other Place in one piece. Or maybe not any pieces at all."

"Was that a threat?" The man asked, his eyebrows rising in fast fury. "I will have you know that I am- "

He was silenced yet again when the door to the kitchen slammed open and a very calm boy strutted his way in, his cloak billowing behind him like a lady's gown on a windy day. Natty-boy himself. We must've made quite a racket for him to dare to show his face anywhere around me after what he'd been doing to me. He calmly surveyed the mess that Castor was surrounded by before sighing and muttering the dismissal for the djinni.

Castor fell to his knees and was in the middle of an apology before he disappeared.

"Can you dismiss me, too? My essence is dying while I bake your pretty pink cake."

"It's a light red." He corrected, looking faintly annoyed.

"I don't care what color it is! Nat, it's been- "

"Don't call me that!"

"- more than a year. Just dismiss me, or I might end up being a small splatter of essence on your bedside the next time you decide to check up on me. I'll make sure to make my dead remnants smell horrible, too."

The boy stared at me cooly.

"Djinni, your charge was to prepare food for the party that I am hosting. Please return to your task." So saying, he turned dramatically away and almost made it out the door before I interrupted him.

"Nathaniel. I'm not- "

"I will not hesitate to use the Stipplers."

"So they can backfire on you when I use your name?"

"No, so I can distract you enough for me to use Hort's pentagram properly."

I flinched just at the name. True, I wasn't the quickest on my feet recently. That could most definitely work and be extremely painful, too. The kid was getting clever recently. He walked out, as unruffled as he'd been when he'd come in. I swore I'd kill him some day. And maybe take my time, too, if his ugly face didn't repulse me enough to finish him off quickly.

"I like your new haircut!" I called after him. "Looks just like a neat little hedgehog sitting on top of your head!"

Not my best insult, but I saw him turn around with flashing eyes before the door swung closed. At least teasing him hadn't lost its fair amount of amusement. Then I looked back down at the first layer of his cake. Never mind. Amusing or not, I was looking for any chance to kill him so I could leave this wretched world already.

I stared at my masterpiece with admiration. There was nothing I couldn't do perfectly, was there? Even if it was just cooking a fancy meal for a crowd of fifty. I scoffed. I bet none of them wanted to spend their free time around other preening magicians, either, but they had to come when someone as important as the most powerful magician in London (well, besides the bony old hag that Nat just adored so much) called.

And all there was left to do was carry the food downstairs into the guest room that I had decorated yesterday. I sighed. Really, the kid couldn't just hire some servants, could he? No, he had to use a fourth-level djinni. Oh how I wanted to destroy him.

I decided to carry the gravy down, first. I opened the door before picking up the tray of food and emerging outside the stuffy room that I'd been stuck in for the past few hours. As I went down the stairs, I sighed. Was these a point to any of this? Really. Sure, I could slip his name to some magician that summoned me, but the chances of that happening were slim, to say the least. The last I'd been summoned (by someone beside this kid) was two centuries ago. But now, Natty-boy wanted me to run around him doing menial tasks that could be done by any imp or human servant. He could at least just order me to keep my mouth shut and summon other servants, but no. He sent the imps, foliots, and lower-level djinn out to suppress the Resistance and do dangerous missions.* He sent me, Bartimaeus, Sakhr al-Jinni, N'gorso the Mighty, Rekhyt, the Serpent of Silver Plumes who could make entire armies tremble, to bake his cakes and decorate his halls with wreaths of pretty daffodils.

*Okay, so occasionally, me, too, but lately I'd proven that I wasn't in any fit condition to fight increasing resistant children with their irons and elemental spheres.

I reached the bottom step and almost collided with the villain himself. He'd run out of his room, looking flustered.

"What's the matter, Natty-boy? Need- "

"Be quiet, Bartimaeus." He said, shooting me a look before glancing down at the tray in my hands. "I see that you're done cooking. Good, just put it in the parlor."

He stood there, fiddling nervously with his sleeves. It seemed the lad wanted me to leave so he could go off somewhere, probably down the corridor that I was currently blocking to the door. I raised Ptolemy's eyebrow at him, before smirking.

"Farrar's here, isn't she?"

When he turned red, I glowed in delight. This was the only time where I'd get the usual amount of fun out of him.

"Oh, look. You preened yourself a little more than usual- is that perfume I smell?" I asked, sniffing the air with exaggeration. I gagged. Yuck. How could he stand that stuff? He noticed and glowered at me. "Ah love. No matter how impossible and comical it is, it is a pretty ugly thing, isn't it?"

"Just go, Bartimaeus."

I couldn't just leave it at that, but I saw the dangerous light that started in his eyes, and decided that I'd had enough fun for the moment. But I'll remember this for later. And so, like the good little murderous servant I was, I went about my business for setting the parlour up for the party.

Hah, I bet he gave the poor girl the wrong timing just so he could spend some time with her before the rest of the lot arrived. Typical scheming magician. Too bad Kitty was 'dead.' She would've made a more interesting person for Nat to fall in love with. Maybe she'll break into the house one day and kill him in his sleep. But, no. She'd use more style. I hoped I would be there to watch it unfold.

When I finally finished with his parlour, I'd been planning to go to the roof to stretch out in the sun before he came up with another ridiculous task, but as luck would have it, I just had to be in the room when he and Farrar came in. He was laughing at some joke or other that he'd probably made, and she tittered along, looking disgusted as he walked close to her. She was probably repulsed by his perfume. And the amount of grease in his hair. Poor chap. Even I felt sorry for him when I saw him being so desperately lovey-dovey.

She spotted me, and desperately clutched at an excuse to stop talking to him.

"Oh, hello... erm... "

"Call me Bartimaeus." I said, smiling cheekily.

"Yes... hang on. Mandrake, do you have a djinn servant going about your house this freely?"

Natty-boy glanced at me and paled. "Well, I usually- "

"Of course he does. He's particularly fond of me. We're like brothers." I said, crossing the room in a few strides and draping an arm over Natty-boy's shoulders. He stiffened, and I could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears.

"Djinn, I order you to- "

"To what, Johnny? Get you a slice of the cake that I so lovingly made for your so very special day? What are you turning? Ten?"

The boy seemed about ready to explode, and clenched his teeth. "Bartimaeus, I order you- "

"I'm sorry to say I have other business to attend to, Johnny. Perhaps we can chat later? I was reading this amazing book upstairs. I'll just get to it, now."

Not strictly a lie. I'd begun to read part of his library out of sheer boredom and pain. I simply had nothing else to do. If anyone I knew saw me then, I'd probably have to kill them (though in the lessened state that I was in, I'd find that near impossible).

After a friendly wave aimed towards him and the baffled and disgusted-looking Farrar, I headed out of the room.

"I'll have him in iron chains..." he was saying.

"I love you, too, Johnny!" I called. Okay, so maybe that was testing him a bit too far, but I made it out alive. He was left to clean up the mess that I'd made, trying to explain my behavior to his beloved Farrar. I knew what she was thinking. 'John Mandrake can't even control his own slaves, and this is the man that the Prime Minister puts his faith in? Have I been putting up with this revolting fool without good reason?'

Yep, I was going to get it later. The boy was probably going to corner me and put me through loads of pain, but it had been worth it.