I won't even say "I'm sorry" this time, bloody hell.

This is my "Merry Christmas" to you all. Merry Christmas, mates! It's late...but better late than- nevermind, I think I've said that before.

Well, enjoy, mates! :)

Chapter 10

Nathaniel

News traveled remarkably fast. It seemed all any magician could talk about was the attack on Farrar. She was discovered in her house, bleeding from a wound in her stomach. The area was searched, once, twice, and again as if the assailant would simply sit around after their goal was achieved.

Farrar owed her survival to a maid who'd been vacuuming the carpets when she heard several gunshots. Three of Farrar's assistants, all commoners, were killed. The maid, after throwing up multiple times, found Farrar in her pentacle, surrounded by a puddle of blood. The maid called for assistance before fainting.

Doctors had announced that they were sure Farrar would make a full recovery. There was no evidence of a gun on the scene, and the police were unsure of how the aggressor entered the mansion in the first place. It was surrounded by spirits and traps undetectable by the naked eye.

They had no idea who the assassin was.

But Nathaniel did.

The night sky growled like a dog searching desperately for its next meal. A blinding flash of despair followed, and it was obvious the hammering of rain was nearing. In a short period of time, everything would be damp and miserable. Streetlights shined upon the rubble, and not a soul was on the streets, as the last thing anyone needed was to be drenched and homeless.

Except for Nathaniel.

He walked down the street, wearing a ragged jacket he had found in a rubbish bin. Once, the sheer repulsiveness of this would have made him shiver, but things were different now.

Three days had passed since Kitty had been kidnapped and Farrar had near been killed. For three days Nathaniel had flopped about on the streets, the image of pure desolation. He had lost her.

He had cowered in fear as the men had attacked them. He'd done nothing.

And then he'd cowered in shame after they took her.

However, after finding a newspaper detailing the incident at Farrar's mansion, Nathaniel had realized something.

Farrar was attacked by gunmen. Gunmen had something to do with Kitty's kidnapping. There had to be a connection somehow. And since Farrar was still alive…

She could tell him who shot her.

There was another rumble from the clouds, and light rain drizzled from above. A child ran into a restaurant to avoid it.

Nathaniel glanced up warily, wondering if he could make it to the hospital Farrar was staying at before the clouds released their full load. He could see his breath, and his hands were freezing. He stuffed them into his jacket's pockets, immediately pulling them back out after feeling the sticky texture of a lollipop. He resisted the urge to gag. He had been foolish to stay on the streets. Perhaps he could have done something if he had asked the other magicians if they knew anything about Kitty's capture.

But he doubted it. Their incompetence had been clear when she'd had been kidnapped.

Still, if he'd taken the time to go back to his mansion, he would have had an umbrella at the least. His grimy jacket did fine in keeping the rain off of him now, but he suspected this wouldn't be the case when the rain grew more determined. As it surely would; this was London, after all.

Several minutes later Nathaniel reached the hospital. He walked calmly inside, trying to regain his composure; easier said than done, since he wore a jacket he'd found in a trash bin, he was dripping wet, had been missing for the past three days, and had been crying and attempting to punch walls to relieve his anger all the while. Well, he thought, at least the rain cleaned the jacket a little.

The waiting room was crowded with people sleeping, sneezing, and- kissing? Nathaniel tore his eyes from a couple in the far corner. He felt something in his stomach that upset him greatly. Perhaps it was the food the restaurant had been handing out earlier to the people on the street. Perhaps. He headed to the counter to see- to his horror- a line.

Of course, since Kitty's… disappearance, he'd had to wait in many lines to get food on the street. What bothered him about this line was the fact that it was filled with magicians. And they were all staring at him as if wondering what horrendous creature he was and what beast had spawned him.

"Mister… Mandrake? Is that you?" Someone asked. Without hesitation or delay, Nathaniel's chin rose into the air and he stepped into the line as if stepping into the role of Mandrake.

"Yes. How do you fair…err… Luke? Is that your name?"

"Close! My name is Nicholas!"

He was instantly surrounded by magicians who asked him questions. Nathaniel sighed inwardly. He had imagined himself being immediately led to Farrar's room, not being surrounded by a bunch of idiots with pointed hats and questions. Who were also, sadly, desperate for his attention.

"Where have you been?"

"Are you here to check on Farrar?"

"You smell- eww- er, delightful, Mr. Mandrake sir. Have you considered a new cologne?"

"Do you still intend on being in the election? Because when you're Prime Minister, you'll need someone to…entertain you. Why are you looking at me like that, boo? I see that white stain on your jacket… I know what you've been up to."

Needless to say, these questions both irked and disturbed Nathaniel. Particularly the last one, which came from a woman with a rather naughty look in her eyes. Thankfully, one of the magicians intervened.

"Gentlemen, ladies," With this he looked pointedly at a woman practically drooling to Nathaniel's left. "Mr. Mandrake is obviously here on important business, we shouldn't get in the way, eh?"

With some muttering of dissent and little enthusiasm, the magicians dispersed. The magician who had spoken up looked satisfied then walked to Nathaniel's side. He wielded a potbelly but only a single chin, and his face resembled a pineapple. Perhaps because of his hair, which stood straight up in an anomalous fashion, like the leaves on one. He looked exceedingly familiar, and Nathaniel tried to remember who he was.

"Mandrake! How nice it is to see you again!" The man said, patting Nathaniel on the back. Nathaniel suddenly recalled the pineapple man's name, George Ffoukes. He had assisted in hunting down the Golem.

"The same, Mr. Ffoukes. I came here in search of-"

"The lovely Farrar, I presume? Come this way! And, also, do call me George. Ffoukes is quite the tongue-twister."

Nathaniel followed the man as he walked through the halls of the hospital. He couldn't help peering into the rooms as he passed them, curious as to their occupants. Many of the patients had burns on them, some seemed to be permanent. Nathaniel looked away as the smell of burnt funnel cakes and medicines hit him; it was an appalling combination, made worse when one realized that it was not burnt funnel cakes they smelt, but burnt flesh.

Soon they came across patients laying on bed sheets on the floor. Some were burnt, but most seemed to be ill or suffering from shrapnel wounds caused by the hybrids.

It was a relief when they arrived at Farrar's room.

"I'll leave you two alone then," Ffoukes said. He then walked off, yelling at a nurse for a glass of water, as if unperturbed by the smell torturing Nathaniel's nose.

Nathaniel drew in a deep breath, and entered the room.

He was greeted by a whelp of fear.

"She sent you, didn't she?" Farrar shrieked.

"Eh?"

"Sh-she sent you to-...to kill me…" She stared at him, eyes wide and filled with fear and… insanity? There was a little bit.

Nathaniel was quite taken aback. He had expected Farrar to be cool and collected, as always. But there she was sitting upright in her bed, unusually pale and shaking in terror with scissors in clutched in her white knuckles.

"No? No one sent me to kill you. I simply have a few questions to ask. Please put the scissors down." Nathaniel said calmly, palms out to show he meant her no harm.

She threw the scissors at him. Luckily, she was weak from trauma and loss of blood, so it fell short. Nathaniel stared at it, making a note to be more careful. Farrar was not to be trusted.

She looked horrified now, curling up into a ball. Her eyes continued to watch him, filled with uncontrolled emotions. Nathaniel looked at the monitors, worrying that she was hurting herself somehow, but their displays meant nothing to him. He cautiously pulled a seat up to her.

"K-kill me and g-get it over with…" She whimpered. Nathaniel was starting to doubt her sanity.

"I am not here to kill you," Nathaniel said, exasperated. He sighed. "I am here to help you, all right?"

She looked at him, surprised. "He-help me…?"

Nathaniel knew if Kitty was here, she'd roll her eyes. He felt a pang of sorrow over her absence.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Can you tell me what happened?"

For the first time since he'd entered, she looked away. She gazed out the window at the rain, as if hidden within the droplets was the meaning of life.

There was a flash, and then the lights went out. A power outage, likely due to a broken power line. Nonetheless, Nathaniel felt suddenly uneasy.

A rumble followed, sounding louder than usual, perhaps because of the darkness. Nathaniel was relatively certain they had a backup generator in the hospital.

The light should be back soon, he thought.

There was a wail from the wind, and the rain pounded on the roof and the window panes. This hushed the patients in the hospital; it was dead silent. The hair on Nathaniel's arms stood up suddenly.

"I killed her," Farrar said, turning to face him. Nathaniel backed up slowly, unconsciously. The shadows fell over Farrar's face in a chilling way, her pale face standing out in the dark. Her eyes were wide, too wide…

Nathaniel found his voice. "Y-you killed who?" He asked, horrified at the stutter.

Farrar's eyes darted from side to side. She leaned in, and it was all Nathaniel could do not to back up more.

She whispered. "Kitty…"

Nathaniel began shaking his head. No..no, it wasn't possible. Even Farrar wouldn't. No… His breath came out in short bursts, rasps. The lights flickered once, then went out again as the generator struggled to start.

"He convinced me to… made threats."

With difficulty, Nathaniel spoke. "Who?"

"I killed her…"

"No!" Nathaniel yelled suddenly, the meaning her words hitting him like a fist. The rain was incessant, its noise extraordinarily deafening.

As if driven on by Nathaniel's yelling, Farrar's voice came out loud and high-pitched.

"She c-came back from the de-dead! She m-murdered…" Farrar choked, then her voice returned to a barely audible whisper.

"She killed me. I'm dead."

Nathaniel was shocked. He didn't know what to say… what to think. He felt, not for the first time in his life, utterly alone.

Farrar had lost her mind. She shook like a leaf, gripping the white blanket like it was the only thing that kept her in the physical world.

She whispered something Nathaniel couldn't pick up.

He leaned closer, trembling as well.

She whispered again. He couldn't hear her again.

Nathaniel held his breath, unable to speak. He moved closer until her lips could touch his ear.

This time he heard her. She uttered two words.

"Ask…Bartimaeus…"

Nathaniel turned to look at her, surprised. Their eyes met, but she seemed to be looking through him. The lights flickered once more. Her eyes grew as if they'd pop out of their sockets.

"Kathleen! KATHLEEN JONES!" She screamed, centimeters away from his face. Nathaniel was sent sprawling into his chair. The leg broke, and he hit the ground face first. The earsplitting terror in her voice had caught him off guard. The lights were out again, but he remembered seeing her look over his shoulder and behind him.

He felt a presence at his back, inches from his neck. Farrar kept screaming and quivering, and even in the darkness he could tell she was looking at him. Or rather…through him.

Behind him.

Filled with dread, he turned. There was a flash of lightning, coming through the window and revealing everything in the room for a fraction of a second-

There was nothing there. Nathaniel turned back to Farrar, who had stopped screaming, half expecting to see her laughing at his expense. The lights came on for good as the backup generator did its job, humming gently somewhere in the hospital. The storm continued with vigor.

Farrar lay in her bed, out cold. Nathaniel glanced at the monitor to confirm that she was still alive.

She was mental.

A nurse entered through the door, and glanced around through eyes narrowed to slits. She looked at her fainted patient, at Nathaniel, who was pale and still trembling, and then at the broken chair.

Shaking her head in irritation, she pointed her thumb at the door. Get out. Nathaniel took one last look at Farrar, her chest rising and falling slowly, then left.

A few hours later, Nathaniel sat in a pentacle he had just made in his mansion. He was soaked, since he had walked here with no umbrella. Ffoukes had tried to speak with him on his way out of the hospital, but Nathanial had said he was tired. The man even offered him a ride, but Nathaniel was still shaking and denied without really considering.

The walk had been long, and he'd jumped at shadows. When he'd arrived at his mansion a good sixty minutes later, they (the commoners he and Kitty had let in) had greeted him with open arms, despite it being nearly two in the morning. He'd tried his best to smile, and was genuinely pleased when someone had given him a towel.

Absent-mindedly, he'd taken off his jacket. Beneath it he had the paint stained suit he'd been wearing for days. It was soaked, torn, and altogether putrid …but he couldn't force himself to take it off.

But all he could think about was Bartimaeus. And, of course, Kitty. What had Farrar meant when she said she'd killed Kitty? What had she meant when she said Kitty had returned from the dead and killed her?

Farrar was a nut. Downright insane. But something had made her that way... besides being shot.

Nathaniel's only lead now was Bartimaeus, thus with the single-minded determination he'd always had, he focused on summoning Bartimaeus.

Because damn it all, Bartimaeus was his only hope.

So he wrung the water out from his suit and began reciting the incantation.

I worked hard on the descriptions this time. Could you tell? Perhaps, perhaps not? Let me know.

No Bartimaeus. I'm sorry. But as you can tell, you'll be seeing a lot of him soon.

Leave a review, eh?

Have a nice day, mates. :D