Light sifted through the windows as the sun began to slowly rise, lighting the river Thames and the rolling hills of London slowly. Coincidentally, Nathaniel was already awake, his eyes locked on the pentacle already drawn in white chalk on his floor. He sighed, shaking his head slightly from side to side, his thick hair falling gently into his face. Nathaniel was all of fourteen years now, his dark hair falling in great locks around his neck in a rather girly way. He had grown since he had been twelve, very much so, but looked as if he was stretched out by some giant, not growing like a normal boy would. True, Ms. Whitwell will be calling him to breakfast soon. And true yet again, she will ask him about how the work on the Resistance is coming. He hadn't gotten very far in, his brain full of the thoughts that had swept over him as he had studied the damage done to Piccadilly. Most particularly, Sholto Pinn's Accoutrements.
( Footnote: The Resistance is a group of humans that oppose the wizards ruling over everything. They feel that they should be able tod eal with things on their own and that the wizards should vanish completely. The most mentioned ringleader: Kitty. A female girl about Nathaniel's age.
Sholto Pinn's Accoutements is a artifact shop on Piccadilly center. There was a demon-like entity there, which detroyed everything, and little magical evidence is left to help the case further. )
That thought brought him back to Bartimaeus. Bartimaeus.. The very first djinni he had ever summoned. He was, indeed, very easy to get along with as well as someone he enjoyed working with (though he'd never admit it). Thanks to Bartimaeus, he had gotten a job in Internal Affairs and been given the job to stop the Resistance. The damage done to Piccadilly had nothing to do with the Resistance, though Julius Tallow, Head of Internal Affairs and Nathaniel's boss, would beg to differ. There was no trace of magic, no magical remnants left behind my the extremely powerful afrits, djinn, foliots, and imps. It was confusing, nontheless, and he could never seem to get his mind to travel away from Bartimaeus and his help in the Lovelace case.
( Footnote: The Lovelace case was incident two years ago in which a single magician attempted to overthrow the Prime Minister. Nathaniel and Bartimaeus, of course, had stopped the whole thing and Nathaniel was instantly placed in charge of the Resistance. )
Nathaniel sighed, turning his gaze to the window as he leaned his back against his bed. His room at Ms. Jessica Whitwell's home was quite large and comfortable, far from the uncomfortability of his small room when he was still under the training of Mr. Underwood. The wood flooring was perfect for drawing pentacles, and there was many bookshelves for him to store books he was currently in the process of studying and didn't feel like trudging down to the library each day to do so. A small nightstand stood next to his bed, a small lamp that gave only enough light to read by resting atop it. Other things rested on the neatly arranged nightstand, such as: an alarm clock, three notebooks, quill and ink, and a few pieces of chalk. A nice rug of a bluish hue lay on the side of his bed, which Nathaniel stepped on every morning when waking up and every night before he went to sleep.
"John! Come eat breakfast, we don't have long until the car arrives to take us to London Tower for work," Ms. Whitwell's voice rang through the floorboards, a sort of unusual cherriness to her voice.
Nathaniel, as all magicians know, had to take a new name once he became certified to be a magician. He and Mr. Underwood had picked John Mandrake, though Nathaniel wasn't quite pleased with it at all. Nathaniel was his true name, which no one was supposed to know and he was supposed to forget. "Alright, I'll be down in a moment," He called back, pushing himself up off the floor.
( Footnote: Mr. Underwood was Nathaniel's previous master/teacher. He and Mrs. Underwood had died in a large fire that seemed to be more than Nathaniel's fault. Seeing that Nathaniel was fairly close to Mrs. Underwood, he was very upset at the loss. )
He pulled off his night clothes and dressed into a comfortable, yet suitable for work, suit that was skin tight(and mathced the recent fashion, of course) and began his idle trudge down the stairwell. His hand gripped the railing gently, his thoughts still wandering about Piccadilly, the Resistance, and Bartimaeus. Ms. Whitwell greeted him with a soft smile and a sweep of her hand, and he sat at a chair opposite the Security Minister. He piled his plate with three pieces of bacon, filled his bowl with a bit of grits, and two pieces of perfectly toasted white bread with jam.
"How goes the work on the Resistance, John?" Ms. Whitwell questioned, her brow raising slightly as she took a gentle bite into her own slice of toast. Her cropped white hair fell loosely into her almost skeletal face, though she wiped it away with a quick brush of her hand. She was thin and wiry, yet was so much more of a magician than she truly looked. She seemed to have completely forgotten her disappointment in him from the day before. How he had suggested setting up djinn and demons as a surveilleince to keep whatever was stalking London at bay.
"All goes well, ma'am. We still haven't gotten any further on the Piccadilly case, sad to say." He stuck his spoon into his bowl of grits and placed it into his mouth, his eyes moving from his food to Ms. Whitwell.
"Hm, I do suppose it might be a hard case. With no magical evidence and that Mr. Tallow nagging you to come up with his 'ideas'." She sighed softly, shaking her head in a somewhat annoyed manner.
"You're telling me. I think I can work it out, somehow. I just don't feel it's the Resistance that's behind this. The entity had to be magical..it just had to!" Something similar to anger rose in Nathaniel's throat, though he tried to shove it down with a large bite of toast.
"Don't worry, John. I know your potential and I know that you can get through this. You're very talented, as I've said many times." A soft horn sounded from outside the apartment, both pairs of eyes turning towards the door. Ms. Whitwell clapped her hands together, turning her eyes back on Nathaniel. "Shall we, then?"
He nodded and stood, pushing his chair under the table as one usually does. Ms. Whitwell did the same, a few imps rushed in and began to clear the table. They made their way, Ms. Whitwell in front and Nathaniel following loyally behind, to the door. They walked outside, and towards the large black car that waited for them. The two climbed in, the door shutting behind them.
Ms. Whitwell busied herself with other things she had to do, and Nathaniel turned his attention to the window. Bartimaeus rushed back into his thoughts. It began to annoy him, this djinn, and how he kept remembering his loyalty. Each other servant he'd tried to summon was nothing like him. One was very proud, too proud, one could say, one was very malevolent, often trying to twist whatever was ordered to him to things that would cause Nathanial harm. He sighed, contemplating whether or not to summon the djinni once more. He'd sworn not to, but Bartimaeus could help him..
His thoughts were ripped from Bartimaues once more when the door of the car opened. He slid out, waved a soft goodbye to Ms. Whitwell, and then walked towards the Internal Affairs section of the building. Mr. Tallow greeted him with a soft grunt, immediately sweeping him away towards Nathaniel's own office.
"What do you have, Mandrake? Spill it," His voice was rough, his grip on Nathaniel's elbow tightening slightly.
"Nothing, sir. I still do not believe is was the Resistance! Why don't you just trust me on this?" His brow rose, immediately regretting the annoyance in his voice once he'd finished speaking.
Mr. Tallow took his hand from Nathaniel's elbow. "Couldn't have been. We went over this. Keep working, we need answers, Mandrake. Go back to the scene if you must, but I want answers by the end of the week." With that, Mr. Tallow left with a huff and a pivot on his foot.
Nathaniel sighed, running his fingers through his hair and sitting back into his desk chair. He eyed the Piccadilly case papers that adorned his desk, reading over the top document. It stated each shop that had been destroyed, along with each item lost in the destruction. The Resistance could not make themselves invisible, which this creature did, and Nathaniel had dealt with powerful entities once before. It was a confusing case, yes indeed.
He stood, walking over to the large window of his office, gazing out into the road a few feet below him. Cars zoomed past, the occasional person walked along the sidewalk. He thought he saw a familiar raven swoop in front of his window, the raven looking almost identicle to the one Bartimaeus used to morph into, and he seemed to have made up his mind. He would summon Bartimaues. Bartimaeus would work surveillance, and then he will try and tie the djinn to him. Hopefully, the encounter won't be as, how do you say, odd as last time. Batrimaeus was an easy djinn to get along with, though he was a bit maniacle, often making fun of Nathaniel and ridiculing him as much as possible. He couldn't help but like it, much to his despair, and, in truth, he missed it.
The day went on as normal, the Piccadilly case growing and growing. Nathaniel's work didn't slow, and he was forced to stay in late in attempt to get further in. No luck, however. He walked out of London Tower, trudging along the sidewalk with his eyes scanning the vendors and such that circled the marketplace. Gladstone's Day was just the day before, and trash remnants still littered the street and sidewalks, though very sparsely. Nathaniel stopped to buy an orange from a young vendor, much younger than himself, and even gave the boy a bit of a tip. He began to gently peel the orange, making his way back towards his and Ms. Whitwell's apartment.
He had just finished the last of his fruit when he walked up the steps to the apartment door. His turned the knob gently, though much to his surprise, Ms. Whitwell rushed in the opposite direction. The two collided, knocking Nathaniel to the floor and making Ms. Whitwell stumble back a bit. She looked a bit shocked, but quickly moved out towards the waiting car without so much as a passing glance to Nathaniel. He pulled himself up off the floor, wiped the dirt from his suit, huffed softly, and tread inside and up to his room. He bolted the steel door and glared at the pentacle drawn neatly on the floor.
He drew the pentacle he was to stand in quickly, though diligently, and stepped inside of it. He began his summon, and when the edges of the creature he was summoning began to appear, he immediately spoke.
"Hello, once more, Bartimaeus. So good to.."
He was cut off by a loud hissing noise, a quite lovely female's face beginning to turn a bright, beet red. "YOU! YOU AGAIN!"
"I-Me..?" Nathaniel's voice trailed off slightly, another loud hissing coming from the face of the lady once more.
"You PROMISED me that you would never summon me again! I KNOW YOUR BIRTH NAME YOU FOOLISH BOY! I can tell the world, and I think I shall! I.."
( Footnote: Knowing a wizard's birth name is a very bad thing. It can let other magicians into your brain and help to overthrow you completely. It usually leads to the destruction and demise of the certain magician. )
Nathaniel cut him off, "BARTIMAEUS! Keep your composure, will you? I have summoned you back for one reason, so listen carefully. I need you to do a top secret surveillance job for me. Can you do that, please?"
"What conditions?"
"Well," Nathaniel began slowly, "You have to report back to me on everything you see, you may not give out my birth name to any demon, djinni, afrit, foliot, imp, or human during the duration of my lifetime, you must not ridicule me in front of others, and I will dismiss you when I'm finished with the Piccadilly case."
"Need exact time I can be released, you noodle." Truth was, Nathaniel was a bit gangly. He did have a slight resemblance to a noodle..
"Well, I'm not sure on that yet.."
"Yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. Give me an exact date or I won't agree."
"Six weeks?"
"Six weeks with you.." Bartiameus stated, pushing a small pair of spectacles back on his thin nose. "I don't know. The last time I was in your service was bad enough. Each charge you gave me.. I can still feel my essence burning from those events." With those words, he gave a slight shudder.
"Please, Bartimaues? My life dangles on the line here.."
"So what?" He snapped. "Why should I protect you?"
"I..well.."
"That's what I thought. I will agree, as long as you promise to never, ever summon me again. Got it?"
Nathaniel nodded, his head turning to the floorboards.
Bartimaeus nodded, raising a brow. Maybe this alliance with Nathaniel won't be that bad. Oh well, he'll just have to see. Little did both know, they'd grow closer and closer, as close to friends as a djinni and a wizard could be. The duo would make history...