"What, dare I ask, is that thing?"

Rebecca Piper had just entered Mr Mandrake's study with a wriggling baby in her arms. She looked dishevelled, with several loops of mousey brown hair having been playfully pulled from her tight bun. Her glasses were wonky on her thin nose and she was slightly out of breath from trying to restrain the infant. Mandrake tapped his foot impatiently.

"It's a baby Sir."

"I know it's a baby Piper! I mean what is it doing here?"

"It's-"

"If it's a bring your relative to work day or whatever then I must ask you to remove it." He cut her off, writing some notes down and glancing at his watch. "This is an office not a playroom."

"Sir-"

"And whilst you remove it can you please get some air freshener? I don't want any lingering smells."

"Sir!" Piper raised her voice, exasperated at his arrogant manner. "This baby arrived this morning. Apparently he was found at a new resistance hideout. He is, according to the police, resilient to all forms of magic attack at all levels of intensity."

"Really?" This had caught his attention somewhat. The war propaganda notes lay momentarily forgotten as he laid his cold, calculating eyes on the squirming child. "Maybe if we found out more about his resilience, we could find a way to stop it spreading around the commoners before this all gets out of hand..."

"Yes precisely." Piper confirmed. Mandrake nodded, his mind already racing on the possibilities. "That is why the chief of police has entrusted him into your care for the time being-"

"She WHAT?"

"As head of internal affairs she thought the position should naturally fall to yo-"

"Tell Fararr my house is not a bloody nursery! It can stay somewhere else!" he all but roared, gesturing wildly as he interrupted poor Piper once again. "What is it with people harassing me? Don't they give me enough to do as it is?!"

Piper waited until his anger had dwelled down to indistinct curses under his breath before continuing.

"Perhaps if I may make a suggestion Sir?" She took his moody silence as a yes. "Why not entrust a demon to look after it instead?"

Mandrake's scoffed haughty in objection, but then a thought occurred to him. An unsettling smirk stretched across his face.

"I know the perfect demon for the job."

00000

The pentangle filled with shimmering clouds of pink smoke, before the slender figure of Kitty Jones appeared within. Shoving her hands on her hips she set Nathaniel a look that could curdle milk.

"What do you want now Nat? Unless it's an immediate dismissal I don't even want to hear it."

Unsettled by the djinn's guise for what had to be the millionth time, Nathaniel averted his eyes from her overly curvy body and stared into Bartimaeus' eyes. They were the only things in his whole damn life that ever stayed constant. Although the djinn riled him beyond all measure, there was an odd comfort in it.

Clearing his throat, Nathaniel spoke to the worn-out djinn.

"I charge you to-"

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" The djinn held up a hand. "Hold the mustard buddy. You can't just give me more charges – have you seen the state I'm in?" he gestured down the curves of Kitty's body, where the lines of his form were shimmery and semi-transparent. "I need to go home. Now. No more excuses."

"Bartimaeus listen-"

"Do you still not get it? I am going to DIE if I have to go on any more stupid missions of yours!"

"It's not-"

"Three years spent on this rotten planet! No djinn should ever have to deal with this sort of barbaric enslavement!" the demon wailed, lost in it's grief. Nathaniel lost his patience with him.

"Will you shut up and let me talk?!" Nathaniel stamped his foot like a two year old.

"Fine."

Taking a moment to breathe, the magician cleared his head. Bartimaeus wasn't going to like this task, but, compared to war in America or fighting in the streets – at least this was relatively low effort right? There was little chance of death, even in his feebled state, wasn't there? The image of the baby overpowering and throttling Bartimaeus briefly crossed his mind.

"I need you to act as a nanny."

"Excuse me?"

"It won't be for long, and there's no chance of death." The young man hastily added, wishing for the djinn to just accept his charge and get on with it. How hard could it be?

"Mate the way I'm in, I'm sure a newborn baby's pinky toe would be able to put me into a coma."

Nathaniel frowned and ran an anxious hand through his hair, knowing that half of Bartimaeus' personality seemed to revolve around excessive exaggeration. He wanted to give him a rest, but paranoia and an emotion he didn't understand kept him from doing so. Just one more task, then he'd consider the djinni's pleads. Although he was weak, surely he would be capable of such an easy task?

"All you have to do is entertain the child, tend to its biological needs" at this the djinni grimaced, "and make sure it goes to sleep while it's in this house. A woman from the ministry will collect the baby from here every morning and drop it off in the evening, so you won't have much work on your hands...Besides, if you do this menial task, you will be free from enlistment into the army in America..."

This struck a chord; the djinn looked like it was mulling it all over in its mind. After a moment, Bartimaeus let out a resigned sigh and slowly nodded.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

"What choice did I ever have anyway?"

00000

The child's makeshift 'room' by the afternoon consisted of a cheap cot shoved into Nathaniel's guest bedroom. It had never been used until now, and for once he was glad it existed. Feeling vaguely sorry for the toddler's lack of entertainment in the plainly furnished room, the magician had ordered an imp to get some toys on its daily errands.

One cuddly toy rabbit, a red plastic truck and a weird looking dinosaur were added to the room by nightfall.

Curled up in bed with his pillow firmly placed over his ears, the magician tried to sleep over the hollering racket coming from the child's room upstairs. Didn't that damn djinni know how to put it to sleep?! It couldn't be that hard, surely.

Grumbling and cursing under his breath yet again, Nathaniel buried himself deeper within the covers. The things he did for this ungrateful country.

00000