Yay! Almost at 50 reviews, and I'm not even halfway done! Unfortunately, you guys will have to wait two weeks for Chapter 10…I'm going to be away next weekend. Sorry! Yes…I've been busy this week, I have finished the official plan for this story and it shall be a total of 20 chapters long. Woohoo!

Oh, yes, one more disturbing thought…do you wonder how I know the year Nathaniel dies? Easy really: Bartimaeus says in PG that Ptolemy died two thousand one hundred and twenty nine years ago, so if you calculate from the date in Alexandria it equals 2004! Weird, huh? Well, I thought so.

In this chapter, Nathaniel discovers something rather…disconcerting about his situation on the island, and Kitty's visions take a surprising turn…also, MAJOR very hidden and indirect clue as to what Kathleen is. Ha-ha, I'm so evil.

Disclaimer: In the week that has passed since I last posted a chapter, I still haven't had the time to buy the copyrights to the Bartimaeus Trilogy…yes, I'm bitter.

Instability

"I always thought I was the tough one,

The one who would never have to cry…

But now I just can't take you from my mind,

'Cuz you were here, standing here, not saying goodbye…"

- Twisting Again

Everything was slow going on Phasma Mortuus.

For Nathaniel, even walking three feet was a challenge, and despite Kathleen's aid, she just wasn't big enough to truly help him. And on top of everything else, neither of them had eaten in days. They were lucky to have water.

The depression that had haunted him in the days before the demons' revolt was taking hold of Nathaniel's mind again, combined with a helplessness that could only come from his pathetic situation. He didn't know if his small companion was alright; mostly she just sat and stared at him, never saying a word. Nathaniel had never seen a child like her, not (as he frequently reminded himself) that he had ever known many children. But from his rather basic knowledge of her age group he could draw the simple conclusion that Kathleen was not normal.

With a solemn serenity that he had never possessed himself, she cared for him dutifully until Nathaniel could at least sit up against a tree without passing out. He even tried standing up a couple more times again, but the girl couldn't care for him there. More often than out he would collapse back on the ground again, the sweat pouring from his face over his beleaguered features.

What would it have been like to have died on Earth? The question preoccupied him more than anything else. It was all down to Nouda, of course; he wanted to cause Nathaniel as much pain as possible. If only he had never been a magician! Everything he had learned throughout his entire, rather short life was useless to him now.

Nathaniel sighed. There were, obviously, reasons why it was a good thing he had been made a magician; the Staff, for instance, would never have been activated, and he wouldn't have been the only one who died during the attack.

He looked up at Kathleen again, wondering once again if she could read his mind, only to find that she wasn't in front of him anymore. She had apparently wandered off, leaving him alone in the glade once again.

Nathaniel's heart rose into his throat and his stomach clenched so tight it was almost painful. What if she had gotten lost, or worse, been attacked by something? His thoughts immediately went to Nouda, who was obviously on the island. What if the maddened spirit found her? Kathleen would be easy prey.

A certain fear-induced strength rose within him then, and Nathaniel pushed himself once again to his feet. He leaned heavily on the staff and set off in a probable direction, his legs shaking beneath him.

This time she stood with Nathaniel, on a beach she recognized as Phasma Mortuus. He spoke to her, although, as in many of her dreams, she couldn't hear a word of what was said. He was as pale as death, in her eyes, but he smiled slightly as he spoke to her and even laughed, once. She wished she could hear him; Nathaniel had a nice laugh.

Suddenly, he was leaning towards her…what was this? Kitty looked into his eyes, seeing the terrible sorrow there, but beneath the surface was a wild happiness that she felt surge through her own body…

Kitty awoke with a start, breathing heavily as the pain flared within her head.

"Bartimaeus!" she cried out, feeling frightened.

The djinni appeared at the door, leaning on the doorframe with obvious boredom etched on his features.

"What now? Haven't we had enough excitement yet, or did you want me to hold your hand or something?"

"I saw something…"

"Obviously. But from the look on your face, it might have been Nathaniel doing the hula."

"No, nothing like that…" she winced at his use of the name.

"Headache?"

"I'm fine…but Bartimaeus, do you think my visions could show the future?"

The djinni studied her thoughtfully.

"I don't know…the future's a pretty vague sort of thing. There are so many possibilities that it's almost impossible to see that far in truthfully…"

"Almost impossible?"

"There have been exceptions. The Other Place sometimes allows us glimpses of what is to come in the human world." The djinni shrugged. "Why?"

"It's just…what I saw, just now, couldn't possibly have happened already. And I know it wasn't just a dream…visions feel different, somehow."

"So you saw Nathaniel?"

"I was beside him…on Phasma Mortuus." She shot him a glare. "Which might prove that that's what happened to him after all."

"What was he doing?"

Kitty blushed. That part was private! There were limits to what she would tell a spirit! The djinni nodded, however, as if she'd spoken.

Nathaniel sank against a tree, exhausted. He was almost near the edge of the forest, and Kathleen was still nowhere to be seen. How could she have gotten so far without him noticing? Admittedly his mind was pretty foggy, half into delirium through pain and slight fever, but still…

He winced as his hand brushed against a rough section of the bark. He had probably scratched himself badly, on top of everything else. Nathaniel glanced at the palm of his hand to see if it was bleeding, but instead received a shock that reverberated throughout his entire body.

His hand was unblemished, the skin as whole as if it had never met an obstacle. There was no sign of any scratch.

Nathaniel's hand went automatically to his side. He winced; that wound was still there. Why, then…

Determined to find the truth of the matter, Nathaniel reached down to a thorny bush beside the tree and plucked off a prickly branch. Roughly, he dragged it across his wrist, biting back a yelp of pain as the needle-sharp thorns pierced his skin.

Or did they? After the initial pain, he felt nothing, nothing at all. There was no laceration, no mark, no anything. A chill passed through Nathaniel's spine.

"Dear God and all the powers help me now," he whispered. "What's happening to me?"

Sorry that was so short, hopefully you got that little clue…and no, Nathaniel is not Superman. Ahem, I'm off to watch to Smallville now. See you in two weeks, hope you won't hate me!