A/N: my trip to Ireland was very pleasant, and the weather VERY DRY – not a single drop of rain for a whole week! If you're interested in a detailed report (and lots of photos) of the journey, look for message # 6159 in my yahoo group (yes, you have to be a member to access messages…)
WARNING: this is again a strong T-rated chapter. Kids under 13, please click on the 'back' button ;)
Review responses sent out as usual.
Also thanks to: Musica Diabolos, uptowngirl48, LandUnderWave, Rekhyt, pi-fan92, Slytherin Daughter, AnnieThePipster, gremlin, refloc, EliasDaemonwing, Ayleia, AmethystPhoenix1, Hello, BobtheFrog, Saldaen farmgirl, livid, Four Strings, Perennial Rhinitis, Lumos2000, fikle, Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, Queen Dragon, Krzysztoffa, XxBlackChaosxX
Chapter 11
I, Spy
I felt a familiar tugging at my essence. It could only mean one thing: someone was trying to summon me. If it's the kid again, I'm going to eat my hat, I swore, which would have been a most remarkable feat, given the fact that I materialised within the pentacle in the form of Napoleon, wearing that ridiculously big, triangle-shaped hat. Just for a change, you know. So that you can't accuse me of appearing as Ptolemy all the time. It was to show my creativity, which is boundless. Naturally.
But, as soon as I appeared in the pentacle (which, unfortunately was an Adelbrand's Pentacle), I realised that it wasn't the kid. It was a rather grim-looking woman. I thought I'd seen her somewhere before. She was eyeing me coldly, but her lips were tucked into a barely visible, evil smile.
"Bartimaeus, I'm your new mistress," she announced. As if I hadn't known. I must have involuntarily rolled my eyes, because her next words were: "Don't make faces, demon! And get rid of this ridiculous costume this instant!"
I sighed. The girl was starting to be more annoying than the kid had ever been, and I had only known her for a few seconds. Must have been a record. So, I assumed the form of King Midas (without his donkey-ears, of course) and waited for my orders silently albeit unwillingly.
The woman acknowledged my change with a little nod, then gave me a penetrating stare. "You have worked for John Mandrake before, haven't you, demon?"
"Might have…" I answered.
"Yes or no?"
I could have told her 'I've worked for Nathaniel, dearie, not John Mandrake, though at the end he really began to turn into the latter', but thought better of it. As long as she didn't ask me whether I knew his real name, I wouldn't tell her. I didn't like the kid much, but I had a feeling I'd dislike my new mistress even more.
So, I said: "Yes, I have."
"Good." She allowed herself a smile. Her smile gave me the creeps. She was a most unsympathetic person. Though really pretty. Unsympathetic but pretty – a weird combination.
"I expect you know things about him, then," she continued.
If you want to know his real name, ask it, my sweet, or I won't tell you! I nodded.
"How much do you know about him?" she asked.
"Well… not much." It was the truth – I knew his name, but that wasn't much. It was a powerful little something, but only one thing. Other than that, I couldn't have said I really knew Nat. Besides the fact that he was irritating, selfish and had long, greasy hair. However, I knew I had to tell my mistress something… so I did. "I know he used to dislike taking baths as a child. Why, his ears were so full of earwax the last time I had the displeasure of sitting in it in the form of a louse… oh, and he's shy around women. Actually I think he doesn't even know what a woman is…"
"He does," she hissed, her green eyes narrowing. "He used to be my lover, but dumped me for his wife. And so I swore revenge, and you will help me."
"Lover? Wife? Heavens, how many years have passed since I last met him?" I was really surprised. Imagining Nathaniel doing that… I had to fight down an urge to burst out laughing. Nat and sex. Now that was a hilarious mental image…
"He's nineteen now," the woman replied coldly.
"And you used to shag him?" I asked with bulging eyes. Yes, I doubled the size of my eyes just for the effect. I had every intention to embarrass her. Which I didn't manage. She got red with fury, not with embarrassment. Well, at least I had tried. "Aha… so you did. He must have been good if you're so upset about him leaving you…" I was more than delighted to see her shaking with rage. "And do tell, who's the fortunate Mrs Mandrake? Do I know her? Surely a more prestigious magician than yourself…"
"She's not even a magician!" the woman burst out. "She's a commoner tramp! A little nobody whom the government talked him into marrying for stupid PR reasons! And he's fallen for that little tramp Kitty Jones!"
"K-I-T-T-Y J-O-N-E-S?" I spelled the words, as slow as possible, just to annoy her. "You must be kidding! The kid and Kitty? Kitty's a smart and brave person – pretty much unlike him! And she agreed to marry him?"
The woman wrinkled her nose. "Unfortunately."
"But she doesn't return his feelings, does she? Come to think of it, I can't imagine him having feelings for anyone… perhaps himself only."
My mistress pressed her lips so tightly together that they formed one single line. Honestly, red face, narrowed eyes and pressed-together lips didn't suit her. She strongly resembled a Fury that I met in Greece once. "I don't know whether that little tramp reciprocates his feelings, but she slept with him, that much is clear," she said through gritted teeth. "Before they got married, John promised me he'd never even touch her, and he broke his promise. I will ruin him for that. And you will help me."
"Okay, okay, you already mentioned that, no need to repeat things, I'm not that slow on the uptake." I rolled my eyes again. She ignored my expression.
"First of all: you will not tell anyone about my intentions to punish John. Secondly: as you – most disappointingly - seem to not know enough valuable information about him, you will sneak into his house and spy on him and his little wife." She said the word 'wife' with utter disgust. Or rather – with hate. I felt sorry for Kitty. "Every second day I will summon you, and you will report to me. I will usually summon you in the afternoon when John and that tramp aren't together. When they are together, I need you to be there, to watch everything they do and listen to every word they say. Understood?"
"Of course, understood," I grunted. I'm not a stupid djinni. If, for example, she had asked Faquarl the same question, he might have replied 'huh?', but not me. I always understand my orders first time around. "I will go and spy on them in their house, and watch and listen to everything they do and say. Um… do you realise I might be seriously corrupted if I have to witness a passionate bed-scene?"
"You're five thousand years old, for heaven's sake!" She stamped her foot irritably. "Don't talk about being corrupted – the likes of you have seen worse."
Hmm… that was true. And I have taken part in worse. Wars, for example. A battlefield wasn't a sight for kiddies, that's for sure. A little shag here or there might not upset my equilibrium, I decided. But seeing Nathaniel naked… eh. I wasn't sure I was ready for that. But, an order was an order…
"Yes, I've seen worse," I admitted.
She nodded, and that evil little smile appeared on her face again.
"Go now, and make sure John – or anyone – doesn't notice you. I shall summon you within two days."
"I'm eagerly awaiting it," I said with what I hoped was a sarcastic edge.
Then I vanished.
o o o O O O o o o
On my way to Nathaniel's house, I started to feel sorry for him. After all, I had always fought on his side before, and now – unbeknownst to him – he was facing me as an enemy. And knowing what a fearsome enemy I could be, I had every reason to feel sorry for him. For the first time in my life. But I felt even sorrier for Kitty. I had always liked her – she was fiery, she didn't respect anyone (reminds me of myself), and she had the habit of beating Nat up. I was wondering whether she still did it occasionally. I hoped so.
It was late in the afternoon that I arrived at the house that I had helped Nat furnish. It seemed that it had recently been repainted – I suspected that the kid had it repainted every year to make sure that the London smog didn't affect the exterior of the building at all. I expected to see tasteless, flower-patterned velvet cushions and porcelain nymphs in the building itself. I remembered having purchased the tiles myself, and those had been horrible enough. The kid must have collected another few hundred bizarre objects in the last five years. I just hoped he didn't have a fountain depicting a djinni and an Arabian swan entwined in a lover's embrace. But knowing these magicians, I wouldn't have put it past him…
As I looked around (in the form of a fly), I established that the house was protected by a defence nexus and the usual contraceptive shield that you can find around any building that belongs to magicians. It caught my attention that the djinni who had conjured them, had done a poor job, because the contraceptive shield and the defence nexus were connected, as if the two shields had somehow slipped into each other at one point. The point where they were touching was tiny, but just big enough for me to know that I couldn't neutralise the defence nexus without disabling the other shield as well.
First, however, I needed to find out whether there were any magical entities inside the building, because this kind of defence nexus usually sets off an alarm that sounds like a dozen church bells on the fourth level. No one but magical beings can hear it, and only for a few seconds. It rings whenever someone uninvited penetrates the shield, and it also rings (just to show that it's still functioning) when you restore it after you had once disabled it. A tricky little thing, really.
I waited for an hour, extending my senses towards the house, subtly enough not to be noticed by a foliot or anything lower than that. A fourth level djinni might have noticed the search-impulses I was sending into the building, but I was in luck – apparently Nathaniel had no djinn in his employ – at least none whose powers equalled or surpassed mine. Not that I wouldn't have dared take on an afrit all by myself, but it would have been hard to get into the building if I beat up the poor afrit and it announced the attempted breaking and entering to the kid. He would undoubtedly double or triple the defences around his house, and I'd have to return to that green-eyed harpy with empty hands. I mean, without any useful information.
Eventually I established that the only magical being in the house was a foliot. That would have been a pushover for me, but undoubtedly Nat would have found it most suspicious if, upon returning to his home, he had found his foliot flattened or completely vanished (and come to think of it, I never liked eating foliots, they taste bitter).
Around seven in the evening, it turned out that it was my lucky day – our foliot decided to go shopping. He exited the house in the form of a middle-aged man, swinging a cute little basket on his arm.
I waited for him to get far enough not to hear the church bell alarm I was going to set off, then got down to work.
It wasn't hard to disable the shield – it must have been created by a third level djinni, and ruining something that was done by someone less powerful than me was a piece of cake. Not that I wouldn't have managed to disable a shield created by a fifth or sixth level djinni, I am Bartimaeus after all. I always find a way.
So, within a few seconds the two shields were disabled. After the ringing of the church bells died away, I wanted to get down to restoring the shields (once I was inside, I didn't mind that they existed, they didn't hinder me in any way), but something caught my ears that momentarily took my mind off the restoration works.
One of the windows was open, surely due to the extreme heat, and some kind of gossip show must have been shown on T.V., because I heard the following: 'Dream couple John Mandrake and Jane Farrar have broken up – apparently our Minister of Internal Affairs was cheating on his girlfriend with his wife.' The show's host, a woman with a rather idiotic voice, giggled.
One of my very few bad characteristics was and is that I'm curious. Perhaps a little more curious than is considered healthy.
That foliot wouldn't be returning for another few minutes, I thought, and took a place on the windowsill, still in the form of a fly. From my perch I could see into the room, though all I saw was the back of the T.V. set, and Kitty sitting on the couch in front of it, her eyes wide with surprise. Apparently she hadn't expected 'news' about her husband.
Oh well. At least I now knew that my new mistress was called Jane Farrar.
'…and one of the journalists present at the session kindly placed the recording at our disposal.' the host continued cheerfully. 'The next dialogue is something the like of which you've never heard before – a comedy from Parliament. Sit back and enjoy, all you at home.'
I must admit I didn't remember when I had last enjoyed myself so much. Kitty's eyes grew by the second – even her mouth fell open, but I could see that she was exhilarated. Whether it was due to the fact that Jane had very appropriately called Nat an egoistic, power-hungry arse, or because he had confessed to having fallen in love with Kitty, I didn't know. But she looked happy.
'And now, our next sensation: a frog with three heads has been found in Kent this morning. Our reporter is at the scene…'
But I was no longer paying attention, because I noticed that the foliot had returned, his basket full of ripe tomatoes. I hadn't expected him to be back so quick. There must have been a shop somewhere in the neighbourhood, otherwise it would have taken him longer to return.
This meant I couldn't reset the shields or he would hear the ringing again. I could only hope he wouldn't notice the absence of the shields and that he would go shopping tomorrow as well, so that I could reset them in peace.
Now all I could do was to turn into a spider and sneak into the room through the half-open window. The foliot hopefully wouldn't notice me, as I looked like a spider on the first four planes. If he was indeed as stupid as he looked, he wouldn't bother to check a spider on the fifth plane.
Thankfully the 'gossip show' ended shortly afterwards and Kitty switched off the T.V. and went to help the foliot with the dinner. She kept smiling to herself all along. I had a feeling that her dreamy smile wasn't due to the fact that my mistress had called her husband an arse. If I could, I would have shaken my head in disbelief – what could a nice girl like Kitty like about a jerk like Nat?
In twenty minutes the air was filled with the delicious smell of tomato sauce. I suspected Kitty was making macaroni. I once had an Italian master who ate macaroni every second day. On the rest of the days he ate pizza. All that pasta – no wonder he was my fattest master ever. However, I suspected that a few kilos would do Nat good, if he were still as scrawny as he used to be when I last saw him.
As if in answer to my unspoken thoughts, the door opened and Nathaniel marched in. He was still thin, but he'd grown a lot and had fairly broad shoulders. And – I noted with satisfaction – he had apparently forsaken the frilly shirts and bright red handkerchiefs. However, he still hadn't got rid of those ridiculously long locks! But, at least he no longer seemed to use grease on them. All in all, I could have said he looked good, if a bit worn.
Hearing the door close, Kitty burst out of the kitchen, a brilliant smile on her face. At her sight, Nathaniel too produced a huge smile. Though it was sickening, there was something cute about it.
They met in the hall in a kiss and didn't release each other for minutes. Hanging from the ceiling, I was starting to wonder whether they had grown gills or something, because they seemed to get no breath at all, they were snogging so hard. I was sort of expecting to see their faces turn lilac with oxygen-deprivation, but they were only slightly flushed when they parted.
"Come, John, I've made dinner," Kitty announced, taking him by the hand, dragging him towards the kitchen.
"You? Dinner?" Nathaniel arched an eyebrow at her. "I never knew you liked cooking."
"In all honesty, I hate it. But I saw a cookery programme today on T.V… some Jamie Oliver. His enthusiasm for cooking was pretty persuasive, so I thought why not try his recipe?" She sat down at the kitchen table, motioning him to sit down opposite her.
Nathaniel seemed to hesitate for a second – I assumed that he hadn't eaten in the kitchen since he'd left the Underwoods' house. Such things as having dinner in the kitchen must have been beneath his dignity. Stuck-up magicians.
Eventually he flopped down on the chair facing Kitty's and his foliot served their meals.
"Smells wonderful," the kid commented. "I must admit I didn't ever expect you to await me with dinner… but it's a pleasant surprise, especially today. It's been a rough day. Four more American spies have been arrested and I interrogated them with Ffoukes. They weren't much of a help, though." He made a face. "And I even fell out and broke up with Jane."
"I know." Kitty grinned.
"You know?" He looked up from his macaroni.
"It was on the T.V.," she replied impishly. "The whole conversation between the two of you."
"What?" Nat's eyes bulged (which didn't suit him in the least) and the macaroni fell off his fork. Of course, it wasn't a wonder if he hadn't learned to eat macaroni the proper Italian way… Honestly, it's not that difficult – you just need to twirl the macaroni around your fork while propping the fork against the inner side of the spoon. I saw my Italian master do it thousands of times. Even learned it myself.
Kitty chuckled. "Some journalist has recorded the whole conversation because you had forgotten to switch off your microphone."
"I know that the microphone had somehow got switched on, but… What a cheek!" Nathaniel fumed. It was an uplifting sight. "Now the whole Empire must be laughing at us!"
Kitty reached across the table and patted his left hand. "Let them laugh, John. I don't mind it at all. Actually… I would have loved to see Jane's face when you told her that… how'd you put it? 'Yes! I shagged her, three times, and heck, it was wonderful'? Yes, I think that's how you put it."
Nat was now practically gaping at her. "You don't mind me telling her that…?"
Kitty giggled. "Why would I? We're married, John. Every normal couple does it."
The kid made a lopsided grin. "We aren't exactly a 'normal couple', are we, Kitty?"
"So far we haven't been… but I'd like us to be as normal as possible. And John…"
"Yes?"
"It was sweet of you to tell her off for calling me a trollop… and even sweeter when you admitted you'd fallen in love with me."
"Er…" Nat's face had suddenly turned as red as the tomato sauce on his plate. He shrugged with an embarrassed expression. I had never expected to see the day when he'd admit to having fallen in love with someone, let alone with Kitty Jones. I thoroughly enjoyed his embarrassment.
"Finish your meal, or it gets cold," she told him gently. "Besides, I have other plans with you for tonight than just sitting in the kitchen…"
Uh-oh. I had known it was coming!
The kid presented her with a kinky grin (yeah, it was definitely kinky), and continued his battle with the macaroni that just wouldn't stay on his fork.
o o o O O O o o o
As I had feared, their way led to Nat's bedroom, and I was bound by magic to follow my mistress's orders – that is to say, follow the lovebirds into their 'nest'. It began with lots of kissing and continued with clothes flying in all directions. One of Kitty's shoes had nearly hit the ceiling (and me, hanging from it).
I would have loved to look away, to put earplugs into my ears, but couldn't – first: a spider didn't have ears, second: that tramp Farrar had ordered me to look and listen. How I hated that woman! For a second I almost felt grateful to Nat for not having forced me to watch Simon Lovelace do it with Amanda Cathcart. Because I was quite sure they too had been doing it sometimes, though perhaps somewhat less loudly.
I particularly longed for a pair of earplugs when the kid groaned something like 'ride me, Kitty!'. Honestly. His madness had manifested itself in him believing himself to be a horse. Come to think of it, I knew a magician in Solomon's court who had believed himself to be a camel and kept spitting all around. It was most disgusting.
To get back to the point, Nat and Kitty were loud. I won't go into details, as it would inevitably make my story M-rated, denying a huge number of readers the chance to read more about my mind-boggling adventures. And that would be a pity, wouldn't it?
So, to skip all the naughty details, they stopped it after about an hour (wonder how the kid managed to keep going so long) and, settling into Nat's arms, Kitty sighed: "I love you, John."
Mind you, after such an earth-shattering climax, I too would have loved him. If I were a woman. Which I'm not. At least, I always considered myself more of a male.
"It's Nathaniel," came a reply as silent as a whisper. I froze.
"Huh?" Kitty looked confused.
"My real name. It's Nathaniel."
If I had had a hand, I would have slapped my forehead. Idiot!
"Your birth name?" she whispered.
"Yeah. Here in bed, you may call me that. But here only."
"It will take a bit of time to get used to it," she replied, kissing his nose, "but I like it. Sounds more elegant than John. Even cuter. I love you, Nathaniel."
If I hadn't been in a spider form, I would have rolled my eyes. Apparently love had taken the last fragments of sanity that had still resided in Nat's head. Now he was just like any man in love: a complete fool.
I watched as they drifted off to sleep and couldn't help thinking that I had never seen these two people looking so peaceful. Back then I had no idea that I had already ruined their peace.
o o o O O O o o o
A/N: review, please:)