Bartimaeus
I felt the familiar pull on my essence, again and again it tugged; again and again I resisted. Today I was even more reluctant to go than usual. It was not that I was weak or anything, I just felt tired and kind of lazy; and frankly leaping over burning buildings, sneaking into houses, battling rouge spirits, and fighting wars is not really what I wanted to do today (1). Another tug came; this one was much more violent than the others. With a quiet sigh which was whipped away into the swirling mess that is the other place, I submitted this time.
I had been summoned so many times by Mandrake, that I had memorized the strength of his pull; the pull of an experienced magician. Suddenly my essence cut through the clouds, a ghost drifting among the world as I lowered down towards a house. That was when I realized that the house I was drifting down into was not a house, it was a hut! I looked around the surrounding area instead of staring straight down, and saw that I was not in London. I was in America.
God damn it! That little oath breaker, he finally did it! He finally put me on the list of demons to be recruited for the war! Well fine, perhaps I could survive this! However, I doubted Mr. John Mandrake would. Or should I say Nathaniel? I would make sure every single spirit from imp-marid knew his true name, well... perhaps not imps. They were to annoying and obnoxious to have the privilege of knowing his name (2).
Down, down, down I drifted until my essence touched the roof of the hut. Gathering my essence, I contorted myself into a giant Minotaur. Perhaps, the magician who summoned me was not one of much experience; then my hopes died when I remembered the strength of the summoning. No, the magician was fairly strong. I looked down; now my shoulders were passing through the roof. Finally my head started to be immersed in the roof of the hut. I did not bother shutting my eyes; the roof of the hut was made out of leaves, and I knew that it was only about an inch thick.
Finally my head emerged on the other side of the leaves, and I looked down upon the magician who has summoned me. The once sleepy half-smile on my face turned to a scowl as I saw who it was standing in the opposite pentacle. It was my long time favourite companion Nathaniel. I swore in ancient Arabic under my breath.
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(1) Just pointing this out in case you didn't notice. After all, I am sure if I did not point this out you would have wondered "Why? Why did the great Bartimaeus not want to fight when he was tired and sleepy?" My god you humans are thick.
(2) When I say this, I think of the little imp Nathaniel has imprisoned in his scrying disk.
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