Thanks to all reviewers of my first fanfic ever! Hope it's not too bad…please tell me. Because I like it. And if you don't, please tell me.

In this chapter, Nathaniel summons Bartimaeus again (who, as you can imagine, isn't pleased), and the Resistance suffers an unfortunate disaster…

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of this chapter, except the frequent mentions of the amulet and the island. Please forgive me for using your incredible characters, Jonathan Stroud (Lord Of All You Survey).

I've Had Just About Enough of This!

"Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper." – Robert Frost

You know me; I always try to resist a summons. This time I tried extra hard, because I had a hunch that, once again, the kid would try to summon me.

I was right, of course. Am I ever wrong?

I appeared in Ptolemy's form, because I was bored. It happens more and more often these days; there are only so many forms you can take without becoming a dullard.

He didn't look well, I can tell you that much. Kind of skeletal; for a second I wondered if Honorius had summoned me. Plus, he looked scared. Hadn't seen that since Lovelace! Well, nothing wrong with good, healthy fear, you know. I took advantage.

"You know, I've had just about enough of this!" I shouted in a deep, tremulous sort of voice.

I could have sworn he flinched, as if he was afraid I would step on him. What was up with that? Could he have made a mistake in the summoning? I scanned the runes on the floor. No such luck. Why was he being such a pansy, then? Then I noticed something.

"You cut your hair!" I cried, pretending to reel with shock.

He barely blinked.

"Yes, I did," he said. "Now, Bartimaeus, your charges…"

"Hey, bud, you can't shake me off that easily. I could tell anyone your name, now that you've summoned me. By the way, who could hear me if I shouted it from here?"

I thought he was going to rage at me, as he'd done before, but he didn't seem particularly fazed, although the shadow of fear never left his thin features. Interesting…NOT! Magicians aren't half as fun if they don't get angry at you, particularly when they can't punish you (although only Nat there fell under that category, unfortunately). I examined him closely.

He had a much better sense of ordinary style then when I'd seen him last (thank god…), so insulting his personal appearance was as out of the question as it had been when he was twelve. I tried a different tack.

"So, Nat…got a girlfriend yet?"

His eyebrows shot up – I had changed subjects rather quickly – and lowered. He looked absolutely dejected. This meant one of two things: he still was not entirely sure what a girl was, or else he'd been dumped. Awwwww. Whoops! Almost felt sorry for him there…better get back on target here!

"So what are you going to do to me, kid? I can tell you one thing: I know it hadn't been long since you've summoned me last…"

"Two years."

"Again! So you're what…sixteen now? Anyway, it doesn't matter. I can yell really loud, and no matter what our past dealings have been, I don't care if one of those afrit guards hears me. By the way, don't promises mean anything to you now? Or are you too high-and-mighty to listen to anybody?"

He scowled at me – at last, some emotion!

"I never promised I wouldn't summon you again. And about those afrits by the doors…do you honestly think I don't know how to summon something stronger to devour you?"

I crossed my arms and surveyed him.

"So where are these great entities, then? Why do you always choose me? Is it my scintillating conversation skills?"

"Never mind that. I need your help. And I'm perfectly serious about the afrits; they're fighting in America at the moment, but I can summon them if I have serious need."

I rolled my eyes; it looked as if I was stuck with this kid. Again. Ah, well, when you're more than five thousand years old, things never look any brighter. Plus, he was an easier master than most, in a way; if he annoyed me, I could annoy him right back. In a much more effective way, of course; I'm like that.

"All right, then, Mr. Mandrake. Give me your best shot. Job-wise, that is."

He sighed and smoothed back his hair, which was not half as an effective move as it had been with longer, greasier hair. He seemed to notice this, and stopped.

"Your charge: you are to transport me to the Island of Phasma Mortuus, and accompany me as I strive to find an acclaimed magical artefact for the British Empire. Furthermore, you are to protect me from all dangers, magical or otherwise, until such time as I release you from my service."

"What?"

One conscious level of my mind was racing as it transmitted this startling information (in split-second timing, of course). I regarded him incredulously.

"You want to go to Phasma Mortuus?"

"Yes," he said gloomily, "to retrieve an artefact the Resistance plans on stealing…the Amulet that shares the island's name."

"Another amulet? Whatever, it doesn't matter…do you know what is on that island?"

"Of course. Do you think I'm an idiot or something? Wait, don't answer that."

"I don't need to. And the Resistance? First of all, how can they still exist? Second of all, they don't have any demons…I thought they were against magical rule."

"That is correct. We have not been able to access their new leader as of yet, but we suspect…some connections."

"Yeah, great. I could really care less about your little disputes. Why do you need me? An imp could get you over there."

"I need protection."

"Yeah, sure…why can't you just pull a Ptolemy on me and trust me for once?"

"As if! Bartimaeus, you know my birth name!" Like I needed reminding. "And pull a what?"

"Never mind, it doesn't matter. Fine, I'll do what you want. It's you who'll have to put up with me. I'll make you wish you had summoned a marid…and died during the attempt. Which looks like it'll happen anyway…looked in the mirror lately, kid? You weigh what, ten pounds?"

He ran a hand over his gaunt face, apparently unconsciously.

"Be quiet, Bartimaeus. I've had just about enough of your chatting to last me a lifetime. And there's nothing wrong with me."

I rolled my eyes. Not that I was worried about him or anything; just wanted to clarify that.

Kitty returned with her two compatriots in the early hours of the morning, having successfully completed their mission. They had agreed to meet the others in the old cellar where the First Resistance had once hid their stolen weapons.

As they opened the door, Antony rushed up to meet them, his face ashen.

"Kitty! Is everything OK, did you -"

"Yeah, we're fine…Antony, what's wrong?"

"Well, we got the silver and everything…but we ran into the Night Police. Apparently someone saw us enter the shop and, well…"

"Spit it out!" said Rose angrily.

"We – we lost Oliver…"

Kitty saw all the colour drain from Kevin's face. Oliver was his brother, one of the quietest members…he barely ever spoke during the meetings. They hadn't even said goodbye to each other…

"Any – anything else?" whispered Rose.

"Well – yes. It's Lei."

"No…" said Kitty, feeling ill.

"She's not dead! But they got her real bad…she was trying to protect us, fight them off so we could get away. We barely got her out…she's downstairs."

Rose sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. Kitty heard the beginnings of a sob; Kevin squatted down beside her, his face impassive.

She followed Anton down the stairs, where the rest of the group was sitting looking dejected. Lei lay on a small pallet near the corner, her beautiful face screwed up in pain.

Kitty approached her tentatively. There was a rough bandage over a deep wound in her side; one of her shaking hands still clutched a bloody silver knife.

"Will she be all right?" she whispered to Antony.

Before he could reply, Lei's eyes snapped open. She moaned.

"I'm – fine." Her breath came out in sharp gasps. "Kitty – I'm sorry."

Kitty laid a hand on her forehead, which was alarmingly hot.

"Rory – Jenson – get to the commoner's hospital. It's right around here - "

"It's curfew, Kitty! We'll be caught again!" Despite the urgency of the situation, Rory was still arguing. Jenson nodded in agreement.

Kitty bit her lip. If they didn't do something soon, Lei could die. They had already lost Oliver…

"As soon as it's morning…go" she said, meeting their eyes defiantly. "Rest assured, I shall get my revenge. I shall go after the Amulet of Phasma Mortuus myself. If it gives us our heart's desires…"

"Kitty, you can't go alone!" She looked into Kevin's cold blue eyes; he had returned with Rose.

"Just watch me," she said quietly.

"How on earth will you find a demon? You're not a magician!"

"Far from it," she retorted angrily. "I'll find a way. You just take care of Lei. If I don't come back…"

Five pairs of eyes looked back at her solemnly. There was too few of them…

Lei started to cry, something no one had ever seen before. Rose rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, her face set. Kitty saw in all their faces more bravery and loyalty then she could ever hope for.

"Stay strong," she said, and left it at that.


This chapter took me forever to write! Hope you enjoyed it, because next chapter's coming up as soon as I have time! It might be a week or so because of school, but I'll try to keep up with you guys!