Comforted by the whirling chaos that was the Other Place, Bartimaeus floated, content.
I then felt the pull, the subsequent ache of Summoning. I entered the pentacle a bit wearily and not at all wanting to be there. This magician was no different than any other, though I wasn't in England anymore. I took a peak at my surroundings and considered them.
Boston, then, and a fairly new building at that. Great. The war.
I let mists swirl around me, covering my shape while truly debating the shape I wanted to take. This magician looked young, maybe in her early twenties. I thought maybe about a giant plumed serpent (one of my favorites). But then a wave of – something – washed through me. It cleared my head. I took my shape.
The mists cleared and the girl stared a bit at the figure within. Slim and lithe, with dark military cropped hair and darker intelligent eyes; dressed in London casual with the slightest bit of smirk on his pale face.
Somewhere inside I hoped that wherever he was, Nathaniel smiled.