Bartimaeus
I made sure the rope was tight around the kid. The annoying little prat kept squirming and I was tired of lugging him around. He sat bound in a chair in Jane's living space. The place was a bit roomier compared to Nathaniel's. It was a little too barren though. She just had the bare essential: a simple couch and a coffee table. No television, fireplace or even picture frames on the wall. Must be a minimalist thing. But she was right about the security. At the front entrance of her place, two djinns stood keeping watch.
The boy gritted his teeth and let out a stream of curse words. It was all very cute, mind you. The kid had the ferocity of a feral cat. Since he favored using his scrawny legs to kick, I paid extra close attention to them and tied them tightly against the chair's legs with a finishing bow at the top.
"I'm not talkin'! You magicians can't make me talk!"
A scowling Nathaniel stood in front of the kid, his arms crossed. Jane stood next to him holding the pages she retrieved from the kid's bag. Nathaniel kicked the chair. That was him trying to be bad cop.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"As if I would tell you," the kid snarled. He hocked a loogie and spat it on Nathaniel's face. Or attempted to. The glob of phlegm and mucus pitifully dribbled onto his own chin. I cringed at the second-hand embarrassment. Nathaniel and Jane both frowned.
"We have ways to make you talk," Jane said. "One way or another, we're going to get the information we want."
Nathaniel nodded in agreement. "Exactly, so start talking." He kicked the chair again. As if that worked the first time.
The child squirmed in his seat, no match for my expert rope tying skill. "You can't do anythin' to me. I'm resistant to your magic." The boy sneered. "Any of your lil' spells will fail, eh?"
I was getting bored at the lackluster interrogation. Nathaniel's chair kicking was just pitiful so I thought it was my turn to step in and act as bad cop. Ignoring Nathaniel's objection, the gargoyle gave itself a nasty look to it. I'm talking scales that made you itch by looking, cracks that oozed with indistinguishable liquid, and some bad breath. I towered over the kid, spreading by large, leathery wings; I made the wings look tattered to add some spooky effect. I chose a deep voice, the kind that reverberates within you.
"Magic? Yes. But how will your resistance fair up against me swallowing you whole." I curled my lips, revealing my long, sharp fangs to really make a point. Saliva dripped from my mouth, steam rose from my back, my eyes glowed red and the temperature dropped. The wind picked up, and swirled around the kid and I.
"Better yet," I continued. "Why eat the whole thing if I can just savor it? Start off nice and slow. Which limb should I start?" I bent my head low, getting a deep sniff of the kid.
I heard a satisfying gulp from the kid. He was trembling in his seat, his horror-stricken eyes looking into my hungry mouth. Like a fish gulping for air, the kid moved his lips in an attempt to speak. Only a squeak came out. Yup. I still got it. I let the theatrical tricks die off; the wind died down and the room temperature returned. I kept the glowing red eyes to look impressive.
Nathaniel shove me aside. "Talk," he said.
"M-mine name is George. George Woods," he admitted, lips quivering.
"These pages," Jane said as she held out the photocopies of Hopkins's book. "How'd you come across this? You already admitted to us that you're part of the Resistance. Who are you working for? Where and who is Mr. Hopkins?"
The kid, George Wood, readjusted himself in his seat. Well, at least tried to. He kept a wary eye on me. "I was given those copies. Everyone in the Resistance has one to help us identify and learn how to use any magical weapons we have managed to collect."
"By collect, you mean steal. Who gave them to you?" Nathaniel leaned his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on his prisoner.
"Nancy. She got it from Arthur. And Arthur got it from Smith – "
"Smith Sweathers?" Nathaniel interrupted. The kid nodded. Smith Sweathers, the mysterious person that checked out the book before we could get to it. Well, that mystery was solved.
"So Sweathers checked out this book to create photocopies of it," Nathaniel continued. "Before him, a man named Mr. Hopkins had checked out this very same book. This person was also involved in another Resistance attack years prior. I assume you know the whereabouts of this elusive man? And don't lie! Or I'll let my demon devour you!"
I snarled at the kid, flashing my sharp fangs near his face. He yelped. Good, gotta keep him on his toes.
"I don't know anythin' about a Hopkins, sir! Smith Sweathers was the leader of the group! There were 15 of us. Smith gave us the plans and we followed through. B-but he would have meetings with someone else but we were never allowed in there. I never saw who he talked to, I swear! We all never did!"
Jane stepped forward. "Where is Smith Sweathers?"
The kid's eyes glazed over, his lips quivered. "Dead. It was a suicide mission. I was supposed to die too. We used elemental spheres to attack you lot and try to take down as many as we could."
Jane sighed defeatedly. Nathaniel groaned and threw his arms in an exasperated manner. These Resistance kids were very dedicated for their cause. I thought of the burning, scorched mark that was left in the center of the grand hall. That must have been Sweathers letting the elemental sphere doing its work, taking him and the unfortunate surrounding magicians down. The direct impact of the explosion must have been so great. There wasn't a single drop of flesh of the obliterated Sweathers. I looked at the kid and felt pity. I was in the same boat as this kid; we're all under the magician's ruling thumb. Many of my kind have attempted the same; all of them have paid for it dearly. With rebellion comes sacrifices.
A phone rang somewhere in the building. Jane excused herself, leaving an annoyed Nathaniel and I with the kid. After a moment, Nathaniel recomposed himself, passing his hands through his hair.
"Where does your group meet?" Nathaniel asked sharply.
"At a pub's basement. Leaky Plug. It's by the post office."
"Any traps we should expect when we search?"
"No, sir."
Nathaniel nodded, his eyes searching the kid's face. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a stream of vulgar language. Jane ran into the room with a sense of urgency.
"I have to go," she said, quickly tucking in her dress shirt. "There has been another attack – "
"What!?"
" – the Night Police need me. I'll update you, John."
To my surprise, she quickly kissed his cheek before slamming the door behind her. Not to my surprise, Nathaniel stood there dumbly red-faced. I really wanted to tease Nathaniel but there's a time for everything. I'll bring it up later. The important thing was that there was another attack. One thing I know about rebellions is that there are hundreds of mini groups all doing their own thing; all of them united by one common cause. I wondered if this was a different group, or if this attack also belonged to Hopkins. Or whoever this mysterious person this kid mentioned that Sweathers was meeting up with.
The kid whined. "I've told you everythin'! Let me go!"
That snapped the love-dazed Nathaniel back. He paused, chewing on his bottom lip. By the look of his face, I could tell he didn't think he would get this far. Now he has no idea what to do with this squirt. I waved at him to get his attention and pointed a claw at my stomach. He frowned. There goes my meal.
He clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Okay, George Woods. Here's the deal. You are technically an enemy of the country; a traitor, in other words. Traitors like you don't last very long after being arrested. I expect you to be murdered in a painful way in the next week –"
The kid let out a cry.
" - However, because you cooperated with us, you will receive protection under these specific conditions. You do not join another Resistance group, you will keep your head down low and you will not tip your friends off as to what has occurred. If you think about betraying any of these conditions, I'll have a demon smite you down. And don't think I won't know! I could be watching you from anywhere. Are we clear, George Woods?"
The boy nodded silently. His shoulders sagged with fear and worry. I did too. My intuition was itching; something was missing.