The Ties that Bind

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: RIB's. The Bartimaeus universe belongs to Jonathan Stroud.

Note: unbetaed, so every crappy grammatical error is mine. And it's been long since I last updated, no? If you are still following this story, you have my gratitude. My schedule this semester is crazy, so I won't be able to update regularly. In the mean time, I post drabbles on my Tumblr account. Writing is therapeutic that way, you know. Oh, and I have a hint for you: Russell is not just who he seems in this chapter.

-.-.-.-

Chapter 3 of 9

Who have thought that even breathing was such a privilege?

I wheezed for the million times today. My oh-so powerful mistress had been depriving me of the Other Place for some time. We demons need the Other Place just like you humans need food. When we work for our masters, we use the energy that we absorb from the Other Place. When work is done, we go back to replenish our power. The Other Place is my feast, my home, my mother. Now, exiled and trapped in this body, I was no better than an orphan.

I'm sorry—what? Oh, you need a little rewind to get what the hell this is all about? Alright. Forgive me for forgetting how feeble is your memory. So... remember the time when Fabray snapped at three tactless ladies at the court? They were foolish, I admitted, and provoking a magician when they themselves were commoners was equal to taking a jump from the tower of Babylon. I would say that Fabray's show off was so unlikely of her, but who was I to talk? It was a good show, and I found it humorous.

She, on the other hand, did not.

Therefore, I had two ideas of why I hadn't been allowed to return to the Other Place. One, she didn't like my witnessing her outburst—especially since it's petty and foolish. Surely her holier-than-thou pride couldn't handle the shattering end of her image as a composed magician whose feathers could never be ruffled. Two, she didn't like my little stunt of disobedience when I tried to get the upper hand of our contract. Well, it turned out that 'Quinn Fabray' was not her birth name. I failed, and I could accept that. And I moved on. World peace, please.

And yet, here I was: still punished by my unforgiving mistress.

(Oh shut up. I was hungry and grumpy. Could you blame me that I wasn't above playing the victim here?)

Another wheezed sigh escaped my mouth, louder, and I couldn't help worrying that it would break the silence in this humongous library. I meant, I knew I was supposed to meet her, but for the last fifteen minutes (human time—so annoying of a system) I had been watching her.

Truth be told, Fabray might as well be a goddamn statue there. Standing between two pillars next to the tall window, she had been looking out the window ever since I started watching her. Practicing Oriental meditation, perhaps? Well, who knew. There was nothing special outside. Her window faced a rather secluded yard of the palace. Fleetingly, I heard girlish laughter from outside. Was that what Fabray was so keen on watching?

Then her back straightened, and I knew immediately that she's aware of my presence. "I do not approve your snooping around," she said, still not turning to face me.

I was so tempted to give in to the humanly temptation of rolling my eyes.

"You are late."

"Obviously," I countered. "I can't help walking slower to ration what's little left of my energy." I refused to take a seat, but I also didn't want to stand near her. Stubborn as it might seem, I didn't need her pity. She knew perfectly that I needed to return to the Other Place, and if she's keeping me here to ensure my cooperation, she would have to deal with what I could be now: a very cranky human-materialized demon that would not cooperate so easily.

She looked at me over her shoulder. "My father will be here soon."

Why yes, the reason I was given a command to go all the way from her mansion to the palace was because of her father. I wondered if she's going to flaunt me as a kind of trophy—a demon she managed to enslave. And not just a low demon. King David's teacher. Builder of New York City. I would make a huge, golden trophy.

Her mark flared all over my arm as irritation grew inside me.

And perhaps it's the irritation—mixed with exhaustion and hunger—that clouded my normally flawless reflex. A few strands of my hair were singed as a ball of fire blazed above my head, and I only missed it for barely an inch as it crashed against another fireball. They bounced against the pillar Fabray had leaned against, leaving a terrible burn mark. Splinters of the pillar rained on me as I lost my balance and fell on my bottom.

"Father!"

I looked up sharply at her indignant cry.

A tall, well-built man was standing on the doorway. He must be the one who sent the first fireball at me.

(The second was definitely Fabray's. I didn't exactly know why. Perhaps she's just reacting out of reflex to an attack. If she really did it to protect me, I would laugh my way to human death, no kidding. I mean, look at that. Just as I thought my life couldn't get any worse, her father attacked me unprovoked. Wasn't that great? What did I do again to deserve this much rubbish from this family?)

"Why is she here?"

From the way he spat the words, I took it that Fabray Senior was more concerned about my appearance than my being a demon. Seriously? A misogynist much, eh?

"She's my demon," Fabray the Younger said. "Have I not told you that I planned to bring her along to your counsel?"

His face hardened. The same cheek profile, the same mouth line, and the same pair of eyes. Oh well. The same gene materialized in the same features. Only, his were shadowed by detachment and silent fury. "There is no counsel that I can give today," he said coldly. "I will see you at home later."

Fabray the Younger growled under her breath but said nothing.

"From now on, do not let me see your filthy demon again."

The nerves!

This time, it's her voice that turned cold. "I can do whatever I want to my demon."

He seemed considering something before saying, "Not against my order."

This family was messed up, I'm sure. Just as the daughter was an ass, the father was an obnoxious bastard who attacked a (human) girl and left as if he hadn't just tried to commit a homicide. Swear to Lord Lucifer, Russell Fabray was immediately on my top list of people who I would not work for if ever.

Fabray pulled me back to my feet with a hand on my arm. "He hates your kin."

She's not apologizing for her father, I know. An explanation was all a demon could hope from a master.

I yanked my arm free of her hold. "He didn't almost roast me because I'm a demon."

"I gather." For the first time, a hint of frustration seeped into her voice—and she knew I noticed it. "It matters not. It is not his contract."

I leaned against a pillar, trying to regularize my breathing. (Humans and their fragile lungs!) Looking out, I saw some children play skipping rope as their mothers cheered for them nearby. Ignorant people of this world, really, looking so happy as if there's nothing wrong with life. Surely they had no idea of what magicians like the Fabrays were capable to do.

Wait. This was what has got Fabray so engrossed a few minutes before?

...Huh.

"Go back and wait in the mansion. Do not try to flee."

I snickered. "As if I can." Then, just for a good mock, I pulled up my sleeve and showed her mark.

She looked at me in the eye for a while before taking her leave, saying, "Do as you are told."

-.-.-.-

I ended up slouching on the stone windowsill in an alcove in one of the two watchtowers in the Fabray mansion. (Too many adverbs of place, eh? Who cares. You humans and your spiffy grammar.) The unoccupied space was cold, but at least the wind felt good—which in itself was a rarity in this time of year. The end of autumn in London had never been friendly to humans and demons alike. With Halloween passing, more demons were sought after and employed in preparation for winter and the New Year. Indeed, we demons were busiest until spring came.

The stonewall behind my head felt unforgivingly solid and cold. Just like Fabray. The elder, pretty much more. Though, of course, the younger wasn't faring any better. Bad blood ran in the family, didn't it?

Was she going to keep me in the human world until spring? Surely she knew what that meant, didn't she? I'm not a marid, and even the strongest marid couldn't be kept away from the Other Place for too long. Was she planning to drain me of my energy? Then again, what for? Resources?

"You are thinking too loud."

"Whatever."

Puck materialized next to me. He took in my appearance quietly, cursing. "You look like shit."

Sunken eyes, raspy breathing, and pale skin meant shit? Well. He could have come up with better words, actually. Sadly, words were not Puck's forte. "Then don't look."

He touched me on the shoulder. Good grief, it feels so, so good! The Other Place ran in him so richly it made my mouth literally water with hunger. The idea of my feeding off him made me sick with shame, but I could care less for now. I need energy!

"I told you it's gonna suck to work for a Fabray."

"Fabrays. They both suck, Puck."

He shrugged. "That man is not one you can mess with. He made his name in the First and Second Boer War, you know, wrecking Afrikaan magicians here and there as if they were rag dolls. The British Army wouldn't have won if it's not because of him. Even Chamberlain listens to him and his whim."

Right. It must have slipped my mind to check on Fabray Senior's track record. Thank you for the reminder, Puck.

"Make or break, Berry." He seemed to know my sarcastic thought—good for him. "It's now either you triumph or die."

I exhaled loudly, snickering. "Dying is a human term."

"And look at what you are now," he retorted, shaking his head.

I missed that—having my own head, I meant. Not this hair-covered, skull-protected head of human. Which kept aching the longer I depended more on air and less on the Other Place's connection.

"Settle your business once and for all," Puck said before disappearing. He himself had business to do and master to work for—and apparently, his master was much better than mine. A prince in the palace, if I remembered correctly.

Well, yeah. Leave me be in my despair, sitting here on my own, looking at the vast greenery that was the backyard of the mansion, cursing my luck (again, human term) for being contracted by a Fabray. Dramatic much? Leave me be!

My mark seared into life on my arm, but for once I couldn't bring myself to care. I am a respectable djinni, not some imp or foliot she could beckon at a flick of her fingers. Besides, she could trace me. She could find me. She was bound to the contract as much as I was to it.

And I guessed that's what she did.

I had told you before she snapped under the provocation of three dumb ladies that Fabray only had two expressions. Right now, irritation was what she put on.

Her steps were loud in the empty hall, and I suspected that all she wanted was to give a nice push to throw me out the window. I would fall like a lifeless doll, she would laugh, and in the end I would know that this contract was just a joke to her. After all, the biggest blow you could land on your enemy was not death but humiliation.

"I knelt before you once to put on your shoes. Now I am made to come and get you," she said in that sickeningly even tone of hers. (Dear Lord Amon, could she be more irritating?)

"I'm preserving my energy."

Stopping, she now stood next to me. "The djinni who built New York City is too weak to walk down the stairs?"

I shrugged. "You told me to wait in the mansion. You didn't exactly tell where in the mansion I should be."

There was a tick on one corner of her mouth. "And yet your brain is not too tired to find a flaw in my command."

She did that on purpose, didn't she? How dare she!

She considered my silence for a moment, then stating, "You fed off another demon."

"Yeah, I've just had a snack."

If she was surprised, she hid it well. "It does not work that way."

"Eating your kin and absorb their energy? Not as good as the Other Place, but that will do." (Of course, humans are appalled by cannibalism, aren't you? Well, demons are basically one single being, bred in the Other Place. Our energy cycle is basically a give-and-take process. Power, on the other hand, is different. A fire djinni like Puck, for example, can't just take the power of a water djinni. Humans are simpler; your energy and power are basically the same.) "Or are you telling me because it's not written in your text book, it doesn't exist?"

She nodded, once, easily—the most laidback reaction I got from her so far. "How does it feel?"

Huh? How did it feel to feed off another demon? Or how did it feel to rely on your kin as a source of energy? Were you playing another mind game just to see how far I could go to find your flaw, Fabray?

Yet before I had a chance to ask, she continued, "How does it feel to be weak?"

If I were Puck, I would have answered, Suck.

Then again, Fabray of the highest kind of stuck-up magician and enigmatic question would not be satisfied with that kind of answer. I felt like a Guinea pig under her scrutiny. Was she planning to study demons by using me? What's the purpose? Why did she need to know us demons more than just a tool in performing magic? And most importantly, why did I have to think of all these questions!

"I hate it."

In lack of better words, it simplified everything. It also magnified this humiliation. Of course she wouldn't understand it. Being able to perform magic without spell—heck, even without summoning, she wouldn't understand. You couldn't make a fish understand drought until you took it out of the water.

"I hate this—this dependence. On my kin. On the contract. On you."

Well, technically, the only thing sustaining me now was the contract, so I wasn't wrong to say that it made me dependent on her. And it made me hate this whole ordeal even more. Who was she to dispossess me of my independence? Who was she to take my self-sustenance against my will? Who was she to summon and declare that I was to be her demon?

She moved to sit at the other end of the windowsill, the tip of my shoes almost touching her robe. She didn't look at me; instead, her eyes had a faraway look she directed to the land before the mansion. Even though her power oozed from her in the way it made my hunger worse, I was seriously considering just tipping myself off, pulling her with me, and falling to our death together. It would be the best revenge. For her, getting killed by a humiliated, starved demon; for me, a glorious end.

So imagine my surprise when she took a hold of my hand, her lean fingers encircling my wrist loosely, weighing this human hand of mine calmly. If I were in my demon form now, my somatosensory sense would have exploded. Everything began with a touch, and to have this powerful container of so much power touching me was torture, pure torture.

Then I felt her magic seep into me. If the Other Place was an ocean, Fabray was a river. Calm and deep, quiet and endless. The kind of river humans adored so in fall. She pulled up my sleeve, and I saw the tendrils of her mark slowly crawled to my upper arm, growing on my skin in intricate patterns I'd grown to be familiar with. It usually flared to life in a hot demand of impatience, but now it was warm and I couldn't help but shuddering in its wake. (It's much better than feeding off Puck, but it's still not enough. A river was a pale comparison when you needed an ocean. But for now... yeah.)

Beneath thick eyelashes, her eyes were this brilliant hue of hazel.

(Sounded disgustingly human, I knew, and it's stupid of me to think like that.)

Fabray's thumb rubbed gently on the human veins on my wrist. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was gentle. But no. Big no. She's controlling and calculating. I must not stay being immersed in her—what would you call this? What was this? Charity?

The hell she's doing with me.

"Which one?"

She hummed lowly, the only sign that she heard my whispered question.

"Which one was it that you wanted to be?" At this, her eyes rose to meet mine. "When you were in the library, looking at that group of girls and their mothers." The way her face hardened reminded me of her father, but I didn't stop. "Did you wish you were one of the girls, able to play with your peers as a normal girl should?" By now her face was red from fury. "Or did you wish to have one of those mothers—a mother who would stand by you despite your having a scoundrel of a father?"

Until that moment, I had never seen even a miniscule of fracture in her, not even when she snapped a few days ago. But I did today. I did, and to be honest I didn't find it entertaining. It's not more than a second, but something broke through her demeanor and there was so much agony on her expression that even the demon-me would recoil.

Then it's all gone, and I wondered if it were just my imagination. She let go of my wrist and stood. I wasn't thrown against the wall or strangled this time, but I felt suffocated. Was breathing for humans related to palpable tension? Why did I feel as if somebody just threw me into an abyss?

"None of them."

She sounded so steady I winced.

"I am not as weak as you to want to be someone or somewhere else."

And the walls that shot up in her eyes made my human chest tighten in something akin to pain.

-.-.-.-

Note:

A lot of you complained that there are many a mention you didn't really understand. That kind of complaint made me want to sigh dramatically, you know, because there are also many a time the finiteness of your human brain hurt me. No seriously, humans. This is a log by a demon; get over your fickle human sense and logic and see things my way. When I told you before to know who Honorius III and what he wrote before, did you do that? No? Then I guess you wouldn't bother to be curious of who and what, say, Russell Fabray was capable to do. Or why Puck knew Chamberlain—Joseph, that is, not Austen or Neville—and why it's such a big thing that he listened to Fabray Senior.

Okay, fine. Stop the whining. Now, your first lesson of World History is that you need to know that London was kind of a hot stuff here. And by hot I mean really hot. The kind of hot that could decide your country's fate. Across the pond, that little country that used to be a colony of London was flourishing—in the way that London wasn't totally pleased with. See, now you know why a bunch of London magicians behaved in the holier-than-thou manner (Fabray Junior included); they've got things they're worried about. Add the problem with the power struggle between Rome (why yes, Honorius' long-standing domain) and Jerusalem (sweet home Jerusalem no more, that is) into that. Think of London as an old man whose son kept giving him a headache from his misbehaving and whose wife and mistress were competing to get the better of him. Poor old London, don't you agree?

Thus, if you read my note on how ladies behaved in the royal court, Fabray Junior's lash-out included, you'd get the idea of how stressful it was to be part of that kind of London. Hell, even the King himself was stressed out, and hell forbid his weak son Edward David would inherit the throne. Even I shuddered from thinking of what power-hunger magicians would do if the old monarchy collapsed.

As for my history with Fabray Junior, well, you have to follow this log. I'm not going to be more accommodating than this.

Off for now,

Berry