A/N: evil chapter ahead, beware :)

Review responses sent out as usual.

Also thanks to: Pyshcodelic-Pixie, Fredryck, LandUnderWave, Rebel Rose, RoseFae, Saldaen farmgirl, fikle, AmethystPhoenix1, pi-fan92, Mistri Tonks' Admirer, Queen Dragon, Mewhoelse, annatari the writer, Jardin, HPLB, Apo, Aiko Moonchild, xav

Chapter 16

To Be Or Not To Be, That Is The Question

We got back to the Mandrake estate around three in the morning. I couldn't enter the house as long as Ugli didn't go for his daily shopping spree, and I knew I'd have to wait hours before that happened. So, I stayed on the street, turned into a crow (it felt downright refreshing to be something else for a change, not an insect) and took a place on a nearby tree.

I had a perfect view of Nat's window from there. I couldn't see properly into the house from this distance, but I saw well enough that a tiny dark figure in his room (presumably Nat himself) had switched on the lights and was trying to get rid of his ridiculous vampire costume. At least the moves the dark figure was making suggested that he was undressing. Then, his following moves suggested that he was dressing. No, very likely not for the night, as he usually slept in the nude or just wearing a pair of boxers. (Mind you, he had worn pyjamas as a child. I don't know where and when he'd got in the habit of sleeping starkers, but I strongly disapproved. You can catch a cold or get kidney problems if you don't put something around your midsection. Not that I'm worried about the kid contracting an illness, I'm just observing things and giving you health tips. You'd better be grateful for it.) I suspected that he was changing into his 'commoner costume'. And that suggested he wasn't about to sleep but intended to leave London as soon as possible.

Since he hadn't drunk any alcohol at the ball, he could drive without any risk. Well, the only risk was that he'd fall asleep behind the steering wheel as he hadn't slept a wink that night. He had seemed a bit disturbed by Jane's acting and I could perfectly understand his desire to flee from London, into Kitty's arms. At least, that was what I thought he was doing, but I didn't have a chance to get proof of his intentions because at three thirteen, my mistress summoned me.

I materialised in the pentacle, in Ptolemy's form. Just because I was too tired that night to assume any forms that were more difficult to create. "Isn't it a bit too late… or early to summon someone?" I asked, yawning. "Every decent person should be asleep at this time. Not that I'm insinuating that you're not decent, don't get me wrong…"

My mistress glowered at me and I noticed that her pink-lilac mascara had been smeared – she must have been crying. Well, after what Nat had shouted at her in front of all those important people… I wasn't surprised. She had shed her butterfly wings, and glancing around in her room I saw them on her orange-flecked white carpet, looking rather crumpled. As though she'd practically torn them off and trampled upon them a bit. A few pink pillows were also scattered on the carpet, and one of her magenta curtains had somehow ended up on her armchair, looking just as rumpled as her wings. Too bad she hadn't summoned me a bit earlier, I would have loved to see a hysterical Jane Farrar ruining her own possessions.

"Report," she hissed. "I expect you were the gnat that kept circling around John. Did you hear anything interesting? Did he talk about me after I left?"

I shrugged. "He just said you didn't have style – tossing your champagne into his face… he said he preferred Kitty's style. The punching in the face method, you know. Johnnie boy loves belligerent women. You aren't belligerent enough for him."

The Tramp's eyes narrowed. "I will be. I will be."

"Indeed? Indeed? And how? And how?" I asked, just to play along. Besides, pretending to be an echo usually drove my masters crazy. I decided it was time to try whether it drove the Tramp crazy as well.

"Shut up!" She stamped her foot. "And now, stay put." She closed her eyes, murmuring an incantation. In the next instant a pinkish nexus appeared around the pentacle, reaching up to the ceiling. I felt like I was shut into a transparent column. It wasn't a happy thought.

"I'm not even budging," I grunted. "Say, what's all this madness for? Did I do something wrong?"

"I'm not sure you did." My mistress shrugged. "But last time I summoned you, I had a feeling you were lying to me. Just a fleeting thought, you know… but I wanted to make sure that my demon wasn't having me on. This nexus forces you to tell the truth. About anything. Everything." She allowed herself a nasty smirk. I didn't like her smirk in the least. It made a shiver run down my spine. "I remembered having read about this incantation in my apprentice years-"

"When you were shagging that Duvall guy?" I interjected.

If looks could kill, I would have dropped dead on the spot. "Okay, okay, I was just being polite, pretending to be interested in your apprentice years…" I said, rolling my eyes.

"So, I remembered having read about it, but I needed a few days to look it up. It was in a book called Very Wicked Curses for Every Occasion. This nexus is the best interrogator ever invented. You don't need Inverted Skins, Systematic Vices or Essence Racks to torture a demon if you can create this nexus… if you were indeed lying to me, you will be shortly screaming the truth about everything I ask."

Ouch. That didn't sound very nice. To tell you the truth, I got scared. My very essence was trembling, but I tried not to show it, so I turned into a gargoyle. That form seemed strong and hard enough to hide my feeling of insecurity.

"Okay," I said, trying to sound carefree. "You want the truth, honey? All right, I admit I've never had sex before. Not even with Queezle, although I felt really attracted to her. I've always been rather embarrassed about still being a virgin, but…"

"Oh, shut up, demon!" My mistress waved indignantly. "I'm not interested in your sexual life or lack thereof." She knitted her eyebrows. "Can demons have sex at all?"

"Actually, we can," I replied. And I wasn't even lying. We can get intimate with each other, if we assume the form of a human or an animal. However, in our original forms we can't because besides all those suction cups and tentacles, we don't have genitalia. Which makes it rather difficult to determine a magical entity's gender. We usually develop a male or female personality based on our name. Bartimaeus sounds male enough, so I always considered myself a male. But once I knew a Ghul named Robin. Poor Robin had quite a bit of an identity crisis and he (or she) died without having decided whether he (or she) was a boy or a girl. I felt with him (her). Now you might be wondering how little demons are born if we don't have genitalia. Well… there is a huge and influential entity in the Other Place called The Stork. He is responsible for everything.

But back to the Tramp. (Sorry, got carried away. Next time remind me not to give you lengthy biology lessons).

"You know what?" my mistress said. "I don't care if you can or can't. I want to know whether you have told me the truth about John."

"In what respect?" I asked. "If you want to hear the truth again, then yes, John is in love with Kitty and vice versa. They're going to have a baby in secret in a village named Fenny Bridges. He wants to put the baby into the local orphanage and claim it as his apprentice once the child turns five and John turns twenty-five. Oh, and John really thinks you're not half as good in bed as Kitty is. He mentioned this to her at least four ti-"

"Silence!" My mistress snapped. My, my, someone was really irritable tonight… "Tell me, last time, when I asked whether you knew something else about John and you said 'no', did you tell the truth?"

I glanced at the vibrating pink nexus around me. It didn't look very encouraging, but oh well… I had to try to fib. And if I couldn't, then… I'd think of something.

"Yeah," I said lazily. Barely had the short word left my mouth when a pink lightning from the nexus ran through me. My gargoyle form was made of stone, but the lightning went through it as easily as though it were melt butter. Someone let out a cry. I looked around to see who it was, then realised it had been me. Involuntarily, I had screamed. The pain had lasted for a second only, but it had been so intense that I thought that if the Systematic Vice were a person, he'd be green with envy at the moment.

"That hurt, didn't it?" My mistress asked with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Well, it wasn't exactly pleasant," I replied, trying to sound much less shocked than I was. Because I was feeling shocked. I had been punished several times with several methods in my five thousand years of life, but not once had I experienced pain of this magnitude. Whoever had invented this ugly pink nexus, must have been a sadist.

"You can get a few more shots if you refuse to tell me the truth," the Tramp said nonchalantly. "So, I'm asking again, Bartimaeus, do you know of anything else important in connection with John Mandrake? Anything that would help me take revenge on him?"

"Isn't his innocent little baby enough for you?" I grunted.

"It's me who's asking questions here!" My mistress stamped her foot. I wondered how her high heels hadn't broken yet, after all this foot-stamping… "Yes… or no?"

I crossed my arms and looked away. I didn't need to answer her at all. After all, I was safe within this nexus, she very likely couldn't kill me with the Shrivelling Fire or use the Systematic Vice or the Essence Rack on me as long as I was 'protected' by this pink abomination; and the pink abomination wouldn't hit me as long as I didn't lie. It was just like a polygraph, combined with a torture device. I had all the time in the world, I could stand there for a few dozen years (even though it would have given me some minor pain that I would have been able to lessen by changing forms) and for all I cared, my stupid mistress could turn grey and wrinkly waiting for my reply.

It soon turned out that I had miscalculated things a bit. Well, a lot. Apparently the nexus hadn't only been a lie detector that only activated once I fibbed, but my mistress could control its functions as she pleased.

She murmured a short incantation, and three pink lightning bolts tore at my body at once. And not only for a second, but… I didn't even know how long. Too long, that's for sure. Some time later I realised I was lying on the floor within the pentacle, the nexus still vividly vibrating around me. My gargoyle-body was steaming at certain places.

"That was horrible, wasn't it?" a shrill voice asked.

I lifted my head a bit – though it felt extremely heavy all of a sudden – and glanced at my mistress.

"Will you talk now, Barty dear?"

"It's Bartimaeus, you tramp," I hissed from the floor. I shouldn't have. The next instant another pair of lightning bolts ran through me. I won't describe my reaction to them, for two reasons – one: detailed description of torture would turn my story M-rated and most of you wouldn't be able to read it; two: it's beneath my dignity to admit that I was screaming like an imp being ripped apart by an Uttuku, or a Sprite being tramped upon by a Horla, or… Well, you get the idea.

After a while, I opened my eyes and saw Jane Farrar staring down at me with a grim expression. "Just for your information, Barty," she said coldly, "one or two more hits like that will kill you. It's time to decide whether you want to be sentimentally loyal to John – though I really don't understand why you would – or you talk and I promise your torture will end. Choose Bartimaeus: life or death? Me or John?"

Lying there, my mind was reeling. Did Nathaniel deserve that I die for him? No, he definitely didn't. And after all, what could it hurt if I told the Tramp that Nat's mum was alive?

"All right," I sighed, sitting up. "The kid met his mother in Fenny Bridges. She's a rather nice woman, but the kid is a jerk and doesn't want to forgive her for having given him away all those years ago. Kitty sympathises with her mother-in-law and hopes that she'd take good care of their child until it turns five. So there, you've got the information you wanted. Tramp."

Miss Farrar's eyes didn't even flash at the word 'tramp' this time, but they had flashed when I first uttered the word 'mother'. "This is rather interesting news, Bartimaeus," she said thoughtfully. "So, you've witnessed at least one conversation between mother and son…"

I nodded.

A greedy expression appeared on my mistress's face. "Then you've surely heard what his mum called him… you've surely heard his birth name…"

I flinched. I should have thought of that. But I hadn't. Dang it. Apparently my mind hadn't been working quick enough, but after having gone through such torture, it wasn't surprising.

"So?" The Tramp asked demandingly.

"So what?" I pretended to be politely confused but hadn't really managed. I was simply too tired and battered to act natural. Don't frown like that! Why, had you, in my place, been fresh and quick-minded?

"I want a name!" she hissed.

"Zacharias," I said the first name that came to my mind.

The nexus hit me, but this time it wasn't controlled by my mistress, only its basic function had been activated. The hit had been short and mild compared to the latest ones. I was still alive.

My mistress glowered down on me.

"Hey…" I muttered, barely feeling strong enough to talk, "you wanted a name. I told you a name… You didn't specify what kind of a name you wanted…"

"I want John's birth name!" The Tramp snapped. She looked really agitated for some reason. "And you'd better tell me his real birth name, or I'll send five bolts at you at once and that will kill you, demon!"

"You wouldn't kill me," I answered. "You still want me to deliver you the baby's birth name."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Don't think I couldn't summon another demon and send it to Fenny Bridges once you're dead!"

I felt like rolling my eyes. Such an old threat, reminding the poor djinni that he's replaceable… "You know that if I told you his birth name and he summoned me later, I could tell him that you forced me to tell you everything? Aren't you afraid of him? He's a much more talented magician than you are, sweetie."

A cruel smile appeared on the Tramp's face. "I don't care if he finds out later. It will be too late for him, either way. So, have you made up your mind, demon?"

"How can I be sure that you won't kill me as soon as I tell you his birth name?"

Her smile grew even wider. "I wouldn't want to rid poor John of the chance of finding out that his one-time demon had betrayed him. Actually, I hope he will summon you some day, when I already know his name. I'd love to see him humiliated and betrayed by everyone…"

"You're mad, woman," I murmured.

"You are mad if you're trying to defend him," she said sharply. "Why are you doing it, Bartimaeus? What has he done for you? He's just like any of us, just as evil and greedy! He isn't any different!"

No matter how hard it was, I had to admit that she was right. Once I had known a stuck-up, proud, but overall good-hearted and courageous little boy. That little boy had turned into an arrogant, selfish git who'd sell his own mother for some more power (especially after his own mother had sold him). All in all, the kid was a nasty, cold-hearted idiot who didn't deserve my sympathy and definitely didn't deserve my self-sacrifice. The question ran through my mind: to be or not to be? And I decided to be.

I gave the Tramp a patronising stare. "It's Nathaniel. Happy now?"

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel arrived at Fenny Bridges shortly past seven in the morning. There was at least one good thing about driving at night: there wasn't any traffic.

He got out of the Ford Fiesta and, despite his thick pullover, he shuddered in the freezing morning air. The fallen leaves under his feet glistened with the layer of frost covering them. Nathaniel had never liked the second half of autumn, it was gloomy and depressing and cold.

He walked to the house, fished his own set of keys out of his jeans pocket and opened the door. It was fairly dark in the house, even darker than outside, as the sun had not yet risen. Only a thin whitish line on the horizon suggested that sunrise was near.

Nathaniel tiptoed to the door of Kitty's room and pressed his ear against it. A soft sound that resembled her gentle almost-snores, was coming from inside. So, she was still asleep…

The young magician decided not to wake her and took a place on the sofa with the intention of waiting for her to wake up. However, his drowsiness was stronger than his determination to stay awake, and within a minute he fell asleep, his head lolling over his chest.

He awoke an hour later. The sun had already risen and was sending its cheerful, whitish-yellow light into the room. The sunrays glistened on a smooth surface on the table. For a second Nathaniel didn't know what was mirroring the sunrays. He hadn't even noticed that object before he'd fallen asleep. He reached out and picked it up. It was an old, dog-eared photo showing a wide-eyed little boy around three years old, sitting in a huge armchair, holding a bawling baby in his arms. Apparently the little boy didn't know what to do with the baby and looked downright scared by the task of having to hold it.

Nathaniel's heart sank. His own blue eyes were looking back at him from the picture – there was just one difference: the child in the photo looked innocent, unspoilt, not yet corrupted by power. For a moment Nathaniel wished he could go back in time and undo things that led him here, that made him be like this – the power-hungry, selfish politician that he was.

"You were very cute as a child," a voice spoke up behind him. He looked up to see Kitty smiling down at him with a sleepy face. He hadn't even noticed her enter.

"She was here, wasn't she?" Nathaniel asked.

"Yes, your mother has visited me," Kitty replied, sitting down next to him. "She brought a stack of photos about you. You were a beautiful little boy, Nathaniel."

He made a sour face. "I hope she wasn't showing you naked baby photos."

Kitty laughed. "Just one. That was simply lovely. You were playing with a dummy, laughing… Looking at all those photos made me feel very motherly all of a sudden…" She gently rubbed her belly through her dressing gown.

He bit into his lower lip. "I don't approve of your fraternizing with her, Kitty."

"Fraternizing?" she gasped. "She's family!"

"You are my family," he said darkly. "You and the baby. She isn't."

"Don't be this cold-hearted," she whispered. "She's a nice person. The more I talked to her, the more I saw it."

Nathaniel's eyes flashed. "Just how many times have you talked to her?"

"Almost every day."

"So!" He jumped up from the sofa.

"So what?" She crossed her arms.

"I seriously hope you didn't tell her things you shouldn't have."

Kitty's eyes narrowed. "If you're referring to your name and rank in the magician society, then no, I haven't told her. She has no idea you're a damn minister with a freaking big house and Persian carpets."

"How can you be sure she doesn't know?" Nathaniel asked, his arms akimbo. "What if she only wants to be friendly with us because she knows about my fortune?"

"You're really an arsehole." Kitty stood up, sticking her hands into her nightgown pockets. "Esther hasn't watched TV since she moved into this village, because the orphanage is so poor they can't even afford a TV set. She doesn't read the newspapers either because she thinks the magicians fill it with lies, and let's face it: it's true. Your mum has been practically cut from the rest of the world for fifteen years and doesn't even know what Deveraux looks like, let alone a minor minister like yourself!"

"Minor?" Nathaniel blanched.

"Why, could they have forced a more important minister to marry against his own will?" Kitty asked coldly.

"No. But just because the 'more important' ministers were all married already," he replied angrily. "But you're right, I could do better than this. I don't intend to remain Minister of Internal Affairs for the rest of my life."

"What, are you going to kill Weatherby?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

This had its effect and Nathaniel stared at her silently for a while, feeling as though she'd slapped him in the face. Then he shook his head. "See what we're doing again? Quarrelling because of my mo… that woman. I don't want her or anyone to stand between us, Kitty. I love you."

Kitty's strict features softened. "I love you too… but she too loves you. And you're closing her out of your life just because you're afraid of showing affection to her."

"I'm not afraid." He scowled at her, looking like a defiant little boy. "Does she know about the baby?"

"Yes. Actually, that's the only thing I told her."

"What exactly have you told her?"

Kitty shrugged. "I told her that magicians aren't supposed to have children but I got pregnant despite the prohibition and we have to hide the child until she turns five. Your mum doesn't know more and she didn't even ask more. I think she thought your current life was something that you were supposed to tell her, when you felt ready to."

He looked relieved. "Apparently you didn't tell her much… but then what were you two talking about for a whole week?"

Kitty allowed herself a chuckle. "Mostly about your childhood. She told me stories about almost every photo she showed me. And she showed me hundreds of little Nathaniel pics…" Her glance fell on the photo lying on the table. "I liked this one most, so she said I could keep it." He didn't reply, so Kitty continued. "You can't forbid me to meet her in the future."

He let out a sigh. "It never even occurred to me to forbid you. Meet her if you like, just be careful what you talk to her about."

"Don't worry, I won't give away information that I'm not supposed to give away." She sent him a half-sad, half-sarcastic smile. "I'm not going to ruin your career. I know it means too much to you."

"My clever, understanding wife." Nathaniel smiled and closed her into his arms.

Clever and understanding, huh? – Kitty thought dejectedly. I will always come second after your career…

She blinked back a tear as his lips descended upon hers and forced herself not to dwell on sad thoughts when he was here and he loved her. He might love his career more than her, but for now she decided to be happy with as much as he could give.

o o o O O O o o o

I spent hours lying in the pentacle after the torturing. My mistress had 'graciously' allowed me to recuperate before I continued spying on Nathaniel.

I returned to Mandrake estate to make sure that he had indeed left for the countryside, then vanished and reappeared in Fenny Bridges, in the form of a crow.

I perched on an apple tree in Nat's garden and observed the scene in front of me: the kid was standing on a ladder, picking apples and handing them to Kitty who put them into a basket. It was idyllic, really, and I knew that this idyll wouldn't last long, because I had revealed the kid's name to Jane Farrar. The memory tore at my soul like a silver knife. I had never had such horrible pangs of remorse. I felt queasy when I pictured her face upon hearing his name. She had barely managed to hide her delight and kept repeating 'Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Nathaniel', savouring the word. It had been a sickening sight.

Kitty's laughter shook me out of my reverie. How my heart ached for her at that moment! I didn't yet know what awaited Nathaniel, but I was sure that whatever it was, it would ruin the poor girl's life as well. I seriously hoped Nat would never ever summon me again, because I doubted if I could look him in the eye after all I had done. I knew I shouldn't have felt guilty, as it had been Jane Farrar's fault, not mine, but still… I couldn't help it.

Trying to fight down my pangs of remorse, I followed the Mandrake couple wherever they went that day. They walked around the village hand in hand, made a paper ship and let it sail down the nearby creek (Nat proved to be extremely untalented in origami), and returned to the small house in the evening with healthy, pink faces. I had never seen the kid looking this healthy, there wasn't a trace of his usual pallor. Too bad this couldn't last… if my mistress could help it, Nat would fall seriously ill soon. Probably even drop dead. Though I didn't think that the Tramp would be satisfied with killing him. She wanted more than that. She wanted him to suffer.

I turned into a spider and followed them into the house. The sight that greeted me made my heart sink even more. They were standing in the living room, half naked (they must have started undressing each other while I was changing forms outside) and Nat rested his right hand on Kitty's abdomen. He seemed mesmerised. "It… it actually shows now," I heard his whisper. He sounded touched, excited and scared at the same time.

"Yeah, it does," Kitty replied, placing a hand over his.

"I didn't even notice it last week…"

Kitty gave him a lopsided grin. "Our daughter decided it was time to start growing rapidly so that her father could see and be proud of her."

The kid chuckled. He looked embarrassed but… sort of happy. I saw he still couldn't figure what to make of the situation, he still hadn't fully accepted becoming a daddy, but something had definitely started in him. There was a spark. I hated to think that this spark would be smothered by Jane Farrar. I wondered what the bitch was about to do to Nathaniel. Would she use a curse? Would she shout his name from the rooftops? I had no idea. And I hoped I'd never even find out.

o o o O O O o o o

Jane bent over a huge, ancient tome that had once belonged to her master and now to her. Very Wicked Curses for Every Occasion. The same book in which she had looked up the torturing nexus. When she had been looking for the description and incantation of the nexus a few days earlier, she had stumbled upon this curse by mistake. Back then she hadn't even hoped she'd have a chance to use it, as this curse required the name of the person you wanted to use it on. Now that she knew John's real name, she was dead set on using it on him.

"The Rack of Retribution," she murmured delightedly as her eyes ran across the page. It read: 'One of the deadliest curses, invented by none other than Mim, Merlin's archenemy. Not many people know that she placed this curse on King Arthur. It was the curse's work that Guinever fell in love with Lancelot and cheated on her husband. It was also by the curse that Arthur got seduced by his sister who gave birth to their son Mordred, who finally murdered his own father. Be very careful with this curse and only use it on people you really hate.'

Jane allowed herself a smile. "Thanks for the warning, I will use it on someone I really hate."

'Once you have read out the text of the curse, concentrate on the person you want to receive it and say his or her given name. Then sit back and enjoy the results. But remember: the curse takes effect gradually. It may take years before it completely ruins the subject of your hatred.'

"No problem, I have all the time in the world," the female magician muttered, then bent closer to the book to make sure she wouldn't misread a single letter. She had to be really careful with the text, as it was written in Middle English. "May thou lose everie thing whilk thou holdest preciose, may everie one whilk thou doste cherish leave thee, may thou falle from grace and walke on earthe as beseemeth an outcaste, any may misfortune accompanie thee as long as mine hate for thee liveth… Nathaniel."

o o o O O O o o o

A/N: evil enough? ;)

Next chapter is going to be a mammoth one, the longest chapter I've ever written in a fanfic. Stay tuned :)