A/N: okay, promised mammoth chapter here. I posted a link in my ffnet bio to an illustration of this chapter.
I replied to the longer reviews I got for chapter 16, but I'm not sure all of them went through, given that ffnet kindly held all alerts back. Therefore, I'm thanking everyone here who reviewed chapter 16: Fredryck, LandUnderWave, Slytherin Daughter, Saldaen farmgirl, XxBlackChaosxX, uptowngirl48, Phoenix, annatari.the.writer, Aiko Moonchild, Rebel Rose, Queen Dragon, Glitara Keladry Sophia, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, Duck Goddess, Musica Diabolos, Jardin, Pyshcodelic-Pixie, Mewhoelse, Starfire Gracen, Teya Yashitoda, Valmoer
Chapter 17
Family Is Nice But Power Is Nicer
Weeks passed and I still didn't know what my mistress was about to do to Nathaniel. I tried to subtly question her when she first summoned me after that horrible nexus-incident, but she was cleverer than she looked and however subtly I was asking her, she saw through it and snapped at me that she wasn't foolish enough to tell a demon what she was up to. Oh well, at least I had tried.
So, I kept spying on the Mandrakes (though I didn't really see the point any longer: Farrar had got the most invaluable information she could ever get about a magician; why did she insist on finding out the baby's name as well?). I stayed at the Mandrake estate on weekdays and more and more often even on weekends as well, as Nathaniel had less and less time to visit Kitty in Fenny Bridges, due to latest attacks by supposed American terrorists.
Earlier I had thought that the kid and that Ffoukes chap had managed to round up all the Yankee spies, but apparently I had been wrong. Funnily enough, these spies had got into the habit of making skirmishes at weekends or on Fridays to make sure that the Department of Internal Affairs would have to work throughout the weekend. Just to annoy them even more.
I must admit I could somehow sympathize with them. The Empire was winning battle after battle in the Americas which must have made the Yankees even more bloodthirsty. They were losing their country and their freedom, after all. I, who had served hundreds of masters throughout the millennia, knew better than anyone what longing for freedom meant. The only difference between magical entities and the rebellious Americans was that we didn't have the blessing of free will. We couldn't rebel without having to suffer the consequences - the Shrivelling Fire. The Americans whom Nat and his department caught and imprisoned had only had to suffer some minor torture in the interrogation process. Nothing as bad as the evil pink nexus that the Tramp subjected me to. The Yankees at least had the option to confess nothing to their interrogators.
Mind you, weeks and weeks ago I had eavesdropped on conversations between Nat and Kitty in which Kitty had asked him whether he actually tortured his victims. The kid had admitted that he didn't (and had asked her, blushing slightly, not to mention this to anyone. I suspected he was ashamed of being such a 'softie'.) Nowadays, however, I listened to a few phone conversations between him and various Internal Affairs employees in which he instructed them to torture the suspects they had taken into the Tower after Carl Mortensen's car had been blown into smithereens (with Carl Mortensen sitting in it.).
To put it in a nutshell: the kid was overworking, not having time for his wife (not to mention he still didn't seem to show any interest in his mother), and without Kitty's beneficial effect on him, he was turning nastier every day. Whether this change in him had anything to do with Jane Farrar, I didn't know, so for the time being I put it down to the grim situation, the lack of sleep and the love (and sex) deprivation the kid was suffering from.
Kitty kept phoning him every evening, but most of the time he told her he was in the Tower in the middle of an interrogation or on the scene of the latest terrorist attack, and promising her to phone her later, he ended the call. Naturally, by the time he got into bed around three in the morning, he was so tired he completely forgot to call her. (I was pretty sure Kitty wouldn't have been happy to be woken by a ringing telephone at such an ungodly hour.)
Between Halloween and Christmas the kid only managed to visit his wife once, but instead of whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears or going at it like rabbits, they didn't do much as Nat spent the whole weekend asleep and Kitty didn't have the heart to tire him in any way. She was very understanding, really. I suspected that if she'd known Nat was actually torturing the spies these days, she wouldn't have been this understanding.
The only good thing that Nat had done in the past two months was that he'd decided to spend Christmas with his wife, even if Yankee terrorists were bombing Parliament. I hoped Christmas would bring a little change in his behaviour – a change for the better.
o o o O O O o o o
Nathaniel got out of his Ford, only to be hit by an enormous snowball. "Hey!"
Kitty stuck her head out from behind a tree, chuckling. "Been waiting for you, Love."
"It's not nice greeting your poor husband with snowballs," Nathaniel said, trying to look hurt, but didn't really manage. He couldn't help smiling as he dusted snow off his coat. "I'd return the favour if you weren't pregnant."
"You'll return the favour next year." She winked at him and hurried into his arms, pressing her lips to his. He pulled her close, deepening the kiss, his hands running through her snowflake-splattered hair, then suddenly drew back, his eyes wide.
"She… she moved!"
"Yeah." Kitty gently patted her now slightly bulging belly through her winter coat. "She's doing that rather frequently these days. You visited over a month ago, and she hadn't been doing this back then."
Seeing the slightly reproachful expression on her face he heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, Kitty. You know I've been too busy with work. The Americans, they're bombing everything they can. Last time they went for the London underground… luckily we got a tip-off in time and managed to prevent it. Thousands could have died."
"As thousands are dying in the Americas," Kitty pointed out. "Both Brits and Americans. And why? Because Deveraux wants more power."
"You sound as though you were blaming it on me." Nathaniel frowned. "I have no part in this madness. I'm just taking care of things in Britain, protecting our citizens."
"Yes, you're a hero."
"Do I detect sarcasm in your voice?" He arched an eyebrow at her.
"No, why would I be sarcastic?" She rolled her eyes. "I just hate war. I'm afraid of it."
"You, afraid? You're the bravest girl I've ever known, Kitty. You never seemed to be afraid of anything."
"I'm expecting a baby, Nathaniel. I'm protective of her." She ran a gloved hand over her belly. "The Empire might be winning these days, but some day the Americans might get strong enough to fight back, and not only by bombing certain buildings in London in secret, but by openly declaring war on us. I don't want to bring a child into war."
"I understand that. But I can't do anything against Deveraux's politics. As you've once so kindly reminded me, I'm a minor minister."
"But you're Deveraux's little favourite," she replied. "You're almost like a son to him. And you said you had a chance of becoming more than just Minister of Internal Affairs. You could get more power… but if you do, use it for good."
Nathaniel looked away. If Kitty knew what he was using his powers for at the moment… American spies were possibly begging for mercy in the Tower right now. I can't go soft, he told himself. I'm doing it for my homeland! He put an arm around Kitty. "It's cold. Let's go in, shall we?"
o o o O O O o o o
"Wakie-wakie," Kitty ticked Nathaniel's nose with the ends of her hair.
"Mmmm?" He groaned. "What? We've just fallen asleep!"
"It was hours and hours ago," she replied, planting a kiss on his bare chest. "You took me to bed too early, Mr Mandrake… we even skipped dinner, remember?"
A satisfied smile spread on his face. "Yeah… it was lovely. I never thought a pregnant woman could be this exciting…" He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "Half past eleven? It isn't even Christmas Day, why have you woken me?"
"Because we're going to the Midnight Mass," Kitty said determinedly and got out of bed to start to dress.
"To the church?" His eyes widened.
"Why, where else do they have a mass?"
"I'm not going."
Kitty glowered at him, her arms akimbo. "And why, if I may ask?"
He sat up. "I'm just not the type… I've never been in a church… outside our wedding. I don't believe in God."
"You don't need to believe in God to go to the church at Christmas. I've always wanted to go to a Midnight Mass but my parents never took me, saying it was dangerous to go out after curfew… but in this village, it must be so… romantic, don't you think? Just look out the window, it's snowing."
"So, freezing to death in a cold church at the middle of the night is your idea of romantic?" He shook his head in disbelief.
"Yes. You can stay if you want, but I'm going. And if you want to take care of your fragile, pregnant wife, then you should accompany me." With a grin she continued dressing.
"Fragile, you? You've got to be kidding." Sighing, the young magician got out of bed. "If I catch a cold and infect everyone in Parliament, it will be your fault."
"Actually, I wouldn't mind seeing a few bigheaded ministers with runny noses," Kitty giggled, kissing him gently on the lips. "Dress quick and warm."
"Warm? I don't have clothes warm enough for minus ten Celsius," Nathaniel complained, pulling on his trousers. "I'm used to the London winter and it isn't nearly as cold as it is here."
Kitty gave him a piercing look. "And you forced your pregnant wife to live in such a horribly cold village… tsk-tsk, it should be me complaining, but I'm not, so you'd better stop whining. Besides…" She stepped to the wardrobe, pulling out a package. "I didn't want to give this to you before tomorrow morning, but you could make good use of it now."
The young man took the package from her and quickly opened it. It contained a thick, blue cap and a long, navy and sky blue striped scarf. "Thank you. This really comes in handy…"
"Yeah, I noticed it. You never wear a cap, no matter how cold it is because you think it's beneath your dignity and a cap would only dishevel or flatten your hair... But tell you what, your hair will fall out before you turn fifty if you continue like this. And the scarves you've worn so far… I'm sure they look extremely trendy but a ballerina's tulle tutu is thicker and warmer than those. Come on, put them on, I'd like to see whether I have chosen the right shade yarn. I wanted the cap to match your eye-colour."
"You chose the yarn?" Nathaniel asked, pulling on his jumper. "And who knitted it?"
"Me."
He blinked. "You can knit?"
Kitty gave him a lopsided grin. "You have no idea how many things I know… I'm a perfect accountant, for example. Bet you didn't know that. I learned it in Mr Pennyfeather's employ. Knitting I learned from your mum."
Nathaniel didn't really know what to reply. Every time his mother was mentioned, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I can't really imagine you knitting, you know… you're not the type."
"There's not much one can do in this village so I decided to learn." She shrugged. "Come on, let's go or we'll be late."
"Wait. Just a moment." Nathaniel fished a small box out of the pocket of his coat. "I too wanted to give this to you tomorrow, but you started the early package-opening… Merry Christmas, Love."
Kitty let out a gasp as she opened the box. It held a diamond necklace with a rose-shaped ruby in the middle. "Nathaniel! You shouldn't have… really, I… Heavens, this must have cost you a small fortune!"
He gently pressed his index finger on her lips. "Don't start this 'too expensive' thing again, okay? Nothing is too expensive for me to see you happy."
Kitty cupped his face in her hands. "It's beautiful, but it's not the necklace that makes me happy but having you here with me. I was so afraid you wouldn't be able to come at Christmas…"
"I wouldn't miss my first Christmas with you if my life depended on it… As for the necklace, I saw it in a shop window and couldn't resist the temptation… it reminded me so much of you. That ruby, it's just as fiery as you are. Besides, I'd love to see the ladies at balls turning green with envy."
"Oh, so you admit it wasn't a completely selfless purchase!" Kitty playfully boxed him in the chest. "You want to show-off."
He grinned down at her. "So what? I love showing off." He pulled on the cap and wound the scarf around his neck. "Feels nice and warm. Let's go, then."
o o o O O O o o o
It had been snowing so hard that by midnight snow had completely covered the kid's Ford, and not only the Ford but the road that led into the village as well. So, they decided to walk to the church. A mere ten minute walk, according to Kitty. They even seemed to be enjoying walking in the snow, but me… well, I didn't.
As the only birds around at this time of year were crows, I could have turned into a crow, but even crows were asleep so late and the kid and Kitty would have found it suspicious if a crow had been following them. I could as well have turned into a stray dog but it might have made them think that I either had fleas or rabies and Nat might have summoned a demon to scare me away, and the demon might have noticed I was not a dog on the upper planes. So, I chose the only form that they couldn't notice in the snowstorm: a fly. I must admit I had never before seen a fly in winter and I was sure that neither had they, but it wasn't likely they would notice a little black fleck in the flurry of white specks. Or even if they had spotted me, they would have thought their eyes were playing tricks on them.
So, the fly kept fighting against the wind and the snow, fluttering his tiny wings and sneezing once in a while. (Yeah, I know that flies can't really sneeze, but I wasn't an ordinary fly, okay? I could sneeze. Sort of.)
We reached the chapel (it wasn't even a church, it was so tiny) shortly after midnight. The village was as pretty as a picture. All the small houses were covered with a thick, white carpet; snowflakes were dancing in the air, and icicles hung from the eaves, ethereally glistening in the warm, orange light coming through the windows. (That was very poetic, wasn't it? And imagine just how poetic I could have been if I hadn't been developing a nasty cold!)
So, we got there a little late, but we weren't the only ones late. In the chapel door we met the doctor, that Smith chap. He greeted the Mandrakes and they all entered the chapel. It was fairly warm in there and I welcomed the warmth. Flies don't like winter. We really don't.
The kid whispered to Kitty that he wanted to sit in the pews at the back – whether to avoid attention or to be able to leave quickly and unnoticed if things were getting unbearable for him, I didn't know. (Why would he find a sermon unbearable, you may ask? Well, remember that Nathaniel is evil. And Evil doesn't like churches and sermons. I imagined that the kid would be feeling rather unwell if the vicar started preaching about fidelity, selflessness or keeping promises. People hate having to listen to their own sins.)
In the event, the kid didn't leave the church, though I did think he was feeling awkward, listening to Christmas carols and the vicar's preaching about the birth of little Jesus. After all, Nat had once wanted to get rid of his own child. I still wasn't sure he wanted the little one. There had been a few moments when he seemed excited about becoming a daddy, but I kept wondering whether those hadn't only been just 'moments of excitement' without any real anticipation. I still couldn't imagine him cradling a baby. Come to think of it, he very likely wouldn't ever do that – they intended to put the little one into the orphanage as soon as it was born. At least Nat intended to. I was sure Kitty would have loved to mother the baby for at least a few months after its birth… but would Nat let her be a mother? And would Jane let them be parents at all? I shuddered at this thought. Or perhaps only because I felt cold. I felt like sneezing again.
Speaking of parents… A figure with long, wavy, greying hair, sitting on the right hand side of the third pew, turned slightly around and the kid stiffened. Their eyes met and he looked away.
"You knew she'd be here," he whispered to Kitty.
"Yes, I did. And you'd better be nice to her. It's Christmas," she whispered back.
"I'm leaving."
"You're not," Kitty hissed to him. "If you leave now, my bedroom door will be closed to you till Easter. Or even longer."
Ha. Blackmail always works. And it did this time as well. The kid gave his wife a scowl then turned away from her, defiantly focusing his attention on the vicar so that his mother didn't even have a chance to catch his eyes again.
Finally, the service was over and the people headed for the door, filing out one by one as they didn't want to open the door more than necessary, to make sure that the chapel wouldn't go completely cold. Nathaniel pulled Kitty quickly towards the door to be out of the building as quick as possible. He hadn't been quick enough though.
"Wait!" someone shouted after him once they were outside.
The kid pretended not to have heard it or to have thought the cry had been addressed to someone else. He determinedly trod in the knee-high snow, not looking back. He pulled Kitty along with him (she glanced back at Esther, her eyes radiating something like 'I'm sorry, I've tried') and they went, just went in silence for some distance.
The woman, however, seemed just as stubborn as him and wouldn't let him go just like that. Stumbling in the snow, she ran after him. "Wait! Nathaniel!"
This made the kid turn around. "Don't utter my name where others can hear you," he hissed.
The woman panted. "No one can hear us now. Everyone went in the other direction." It was true – they had left the church behind and no one was around at the moment. "Do you think I'd want to ruin your life by calling you Nathaniel in front of others?"
The kid knitted his eyebrows. "I wouldn't put it past you. You've ruined my life once already."
I felt like kicking him. Pity that flies couldn't kick a human. He would have deserved it. His poor mum was on the verge of tears. But she drew herself up, blinked back a tear and gave him a smile. Not a forced smile, but a genuine, warm, loving one. She smiled the way only a mother can smile at her spoilt, naughty, ungrateful child.
"I just wanted to wish you merry Christmas, Son."
Nat froze. No, not because of the cold. He had his wonderfully warm cap and scarf knitted by Kitty. The only person literally freezing there was I. The kid had frozen in the other sense of the word. (He was surprised, in case you haven't understood). He must have expected a snappy comeback after what he'd told her, and he was shocked when instead of the sarcasm and nastiness he'd got used to in magician circles, he got a loving smile and a 'merry Christmas'.
For a few seconds he stared at the woman, then he surprised me more than he ever had. He said: "Merry Christmas to you too, Esther."
Had I seen the shadow of a smile on his face? I might have. I don't know.
After this, the kid turn on his heels, grabbed Kitty's hand again and marched away, towards their little house.
Esther stared after them for a while, the smile never leaving her face. I, the poor, frozen fly, flew after the Mandrakes, longing to turn into a human and sink into a tub of hot water. Fat chance. I couldn't let them or Enid spot me, thanks to that tramp Jane Farrar. I seriously hoped she was having a horribly lonely Christmas…
o o o O O O o o o
Nathaniel woke to an extremely pleasant smell. His eyes still closed, he sniffed the air. "Mmm… apple pie…"
He quickly dressed and hurried into the tiny kitchen to find Kitty busying herself with slicing the pie into small pieces and placing them into a box.
"Looks and smells wonderful," Nathaniel remarked, reaching for a slice, but Kitty slapped his hand.
"This isn't yours. It's for the orphans."
He made a sour face. "But just one slice…"
"Perhaps… you could get one, along with the children in the orphanage. Of course you'd have to come with me there…" She looked away, hiding a smirk.
"That's the second time you've blackmailed me in twenty-four hours, you know," he pointed out.
"Yes, I know." She grinned at him, closing the box, denying him access to the delicious pie.
"I hope you didn't bake a pie just to lure me into the orphanage," Nathaniel said dryly.
"No. I did it because I wanted to give the kids something for Christmas. Those little ones barely ever get sweets." She gave him a serious look. "The orphanage is extremely poor, Nathaniel. Just to think that our baby will have to spend five years there…" She shuddered. "Of course both the matrons are nice – your mum is like a mother to all the children there – but not even their love and caring can make up for the things they're lacking… proper clothes, healthy food, toys and books…"
Nathaniel began chewing his lower lip. "Well… I could make donations…"
Kitty's face lit up. "Would you?"
He shrugged. "I promised you I'd never let our child be in need. So yes, I will send them monthly donations. But I'll need to pick another two or three orphanages to send money to, because if I were supporting one orphanage only, it would wake suspicion. You know that sometimes we Ministers are required to make reports of our assets, just to prove that we haven't gathered money by illegal means…" He made a grimace. "Of course most ministers do tricks to lead the inspectors astray… But I think it's a petty thing to do. However, if I make donations, it will show in my tax returns, and I don't want to get awkward questions. If I support three-four orphanages instead of one, people will simply think I'm generous."
"Do as you see fit, just help those kids, they need it badly." Kitty reached out and squeezed his hand. "And now, care to accompany me to the orphanage and taste my apple pie?"
His mouth tucked into a lopsided grin. "First the Midnight Mass, now this… you know just how to talk me into crazy things…"
Kitty gave him a brilliant smile and kissed him on the cheek. "Go, brush your teeth and do something with your hair. You look horribly scruffy."
o o o O O O o o o
Still feeling rather sick, I followed them to the orphanage, in the form of a gnat. You can't see any gnats in winter, that's true, but at least a gnat was small enough to remain unnoticed. I just had to take a place somewhere on the ceiling or on the wall, out of reach of possible fly-swatters.
One of the matrons – not Nat's mother – opened the door for the Mandrakes and let them in. Relative warmth greeted us in the tiny hall. I said relative. It was warmer than outside, but definitely not warm enough to be pleasant to spend hours there.
"You'd better not take your coats off," the matron said in an apologetic voice. "You'd just catch a cold."
"Is the building always this cold in winter?" Nathaniel asked with a frown.
"Unfortunately, yes. We don't have enough money to pay the gas bills, so we have to heat with coal and wood, but that doesn't help much," the woman replied. "But we're trying to cope. The children are having breakfast right now. Why don't you join us?"
I saw the kid was feeling rather embarrassed at the moment. I had an idea what he could be thinking about: his huge, pompous house in London, his limousine and the diamond-ruby necklace he'd bought for Kitty. I hoped he was feeling thoroughly ashamed.
"Er… no thanks, we've already had breakfast," he replied finally, his voice sounding weird, as though it were wavering.
"You can still come and greet the children," Kitty said, taking him by the hand and pulling him into the 'dining room' that was small and shabby. It was apparent that the two matrons and the older children had tried to keep it clean, but washing the tile floor and cleaning the window didn't improve the looks of the room much: the wallpaper was peeling, the curtains were tattered, the rug threadbare and the table around which the seven orphans were sitting on rickety chairs, was worm-eaten.
"Hello, dears," Kitty greeted the children.
"Hello, Kitty!" they answered in unison, with beaming faces.
"Meet my husband, John," she continued.
"Hello, John! Mewwy Chwistmas!" a little girl of about four years waved at him with butter-smeared hands.
The kid coyly waved back. Apparently he wasn't used to being friendly to children.
"We've brought you some apple pie," Kitty announced, and seeing the orphans' smiles, she quickly added: "But only after you've eaten your breakfast!"
Some resigned moans could be heard.
Suddenly another woman entered the dining room through another door. She was carrying a jug of milk. As she spotted the kid, she stopped in her stride. They stared at each other for a few seconds. She didn't seem to believe her eyes, seeing Nat here.
The kid's cheek was turning slightly pink. "Er… good morning, Esther," he said.
A huge smile spread on her face. "Good morning… John."
For a second I thought she'd call him Nathaniel. But she had enough sense not to.
"Why don't you give this to me?" Kitty gently pulled the jug out of Esther's hand and began pouring milk into the children's cups. "Mary," she turned to the other matron, "would you give everyone a slice of pie?"
Esther and Nathaniel glanced at each other, then at the two women busying themselves with the children. Kitty somehow managed to kick him gently (mind you, really gently) in the shin when she stepped closer to take a little boy's cup. The kick had been enough for Nat to realise that he was supposed to leave the dining room with Esther.
"Er… would you show me around?" he asked the woman, who nodded with a smile.
o o o O O O o o o
Nathaniel's mind was reeling. What was he supposed to do? What should he tell her? Was it a good idea at all to come here, giving her a chance to… to get close to him? And how was one supposed to treat his mother at all?
Thoughts chasing each other in his mind, he followed Esther through a short corridor, into a more or less bigger room. The balls and dolls scattered around suggested this was some kind of a living room where the children played.
Esther stepped to the couch, patting it next to her. "Why don't you sit down?"
Nathaniel gulped. "I… I'd rather not. If you don't mind."
Her smile faded a bit, but she nodded understandingly. "As you wish."
The young magician looked out the window to see a snow-covered landscape. "Really pretty view," he murmured.
"Yes, pretty, isn't it?" The woman stood up and walked up to him. "You never wondered why you chose Fenny Bridges of all places?"
Nathaniel knitted his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"Kitty said you'd randomly chosen a village that you somehow felt sounded familiar, even though you'd never been here before. Did you never wonder why?"
He was getting confused by her smile. It was an innocent, heart-warming smile, but he didn't know what to think of it. What was she hinting at? "Um… well, I did, but… do you think there's an explanation?"
"Of course there is." She reached out and put a hand on Nathaniel's arm. He didn't shrug it off. "You don't remember – consciously you don't remember, but I used to tell you stories about Fenny Bridges to lull you to sleep. I was born here, but I moved to London after I got to know your father. You were born in London and we lived there until…" She sighed and looked away. "You loved listening to my tales of my home village. I told you about the creek, the green-fenced houses… You once said you'd love to visit it… you said you'd build paper ships with your sister and…" Her voice trailed off and a tear ran down her cheek.
Nathaniel felt an urge to reach out and wipe it off, but held back. He wasn't ready to show affection to her. Not yet. Coming here and talking to her had been a big enough step for him; he couldn't take more at the moment. So, he only said: "Was I ever good at building paper ships? I tried it last autumn but failed miserably…"
She let out a sound that half resembled a laugh, half a sniff. "No… you were really bad at that kind of thing. But you were good at drawing. I still have some of the pictures you drew… would you like to see them?"
Nathaniel shrugged. "Why not? I'm sure they're horrible, but-" The mobile phone in his breast pocket rang. "Excuse me. It's a friend… must be urgent." He pressed the 'receive call' button. "Hi, Ffoukes. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you too, John," the other magician's voice sounded anything but merry, it was rather agitated and tired. "I hate to cut your visit with your wife short, but you've got to return to London. Immediately."
"Why, what's happened?" Nathaniel frowned.
"Haven't you watched the news?"
"No. I haven't seen a newscast for two days. Not another terrorist attack, is it?"
"No, thank heaven," Ffoukes panted into the receiver. He must have run. "We won last night."
"We won? You mean, another victory in the Americas?"
"Another, and the final. The American rebels surrendered this morning."
"But that's good news, isn't it? So why so agitated?"
"Deveraux wanted to make a victory speech, but he's fallen ill."
"Nothing serious, I hope…"
"Unfortunately, it is. Pneumonia. The doctors say he'll live, but he can't leave his bed for the time being. However, he insists that the speech be given in any event."
"Well, Weatherby's there for that…"
"You wish. Weatherby's got the flu or something and his vocal cords have completely failed him. Deveraux wants you to give the speech."
"Me?" Nathaniel gasped. "But… but… when? Where?"
"This afternoon, at three in Trafalgar Square."
"What? But that's impossible! I'm at the back of beyond, Ffoukes! It'd normally take around four hours to return to London, but if you haven't noticed, it's been snowing heavily for over a day! The roads are impassable! Even if I summoned a fire demon to melt the snow before my car, it would take over six hours to reach London!"
"Well, it's half past eight," Ffoukes replied. "If you hop into your car right away, you might reach here in time. We're counting on you, John. Deveraux is counting on you. He chose you, of all ministers. Not the Foreign Minister, not the Information Minister, but you. I'm telling you, unofficially you're his deputy already. It's up to you alone whether you want it to be official any time soon."
Nathaniel stared out the window, grabbing his mobile phone so tight that his knuckles turned white.
"Everything all right?" His mother asked with a worried face. That was when he realised she was still there. He'd completely forgotten about her.
"Yes." He nodded. "Ffoukes, you can count on me."
o o o O O O o o o
"Kitty, we've got to talk."
Kitty was quite surprised when her husband stormed into the dining room, took her by the hand and dragged her out into the hall, then at random, into an unoccupied room. "Nathaniel, what…?"
"I just got a phone call from Ffoukes," he said excitedly. "We've won the war in the Americas!"
Kitty blanched slightly. "And?"
"And? Aren't you a bit happy? The war is over! You won't be brining a child into war, you no longer have to worry about it!" Nathaniel grabbed her shoulders and squeezed them, a little more vehemently than could be called gentle. "And it's not the only news - Deveraux's fallen ill, and he wants me to substitute for him today, giving a speech in Trafalgar Square! You know what this means?"
She looked at him silently for a few seconds, then nodded. "It means you're getting recognised, and probably promoted as well."
"Yes! But I've got to go now, immediately, or I'll be late for my own speech!"
"So much for spending Christmas with me…" Kitty sighed.
"Don't make such a face, Kitty," he said through gritted teeth. "Oh, and before I forget – in case people in the village see the TV broadcast of the speech and ask you whether it was me giving the speech, just tell them no. Tell them something like 'oh, how funny, you're the fifth person already who says how much my husband resembles that Minister…' Or just make up something. I don't want anyone to know that the man visiting you in this god-forsaken village is the Minister of Internal Affairs."
"So, you're again asking me to lie in your favour?" she asked glumly, crossing her arms.
"Oh, don't ruin my happiness, please! This is my great chance!"
She faked a smile. "Then I wish you good luck, John."
"Thanks." He quickly pulled her close, kissed her on the lips and hurried towards the door, not having noticed that she'd called him John again.
o o o O O O o o o
You should have seen the disappointment on poor Kitty's face! But no, Nat hadn't noticed it. He hadn't noticed his mother's sadness either when he'd told her he had to go back to London and left her in the children's playroom without even a hug. Nat hadn't noticed anything at the time, he was too full of himself, too ecstatic about the chance he was given to prove himself… Honestly, what was so special about a speech that would very likely be full of lies?
I followed the kid as he ran back to the little house he was renting. He pulled his 'summoning kit' out of the car's boot and hurried into the disused bedroom of the house. He pulled some chalk out of the bag and drew two simple pentacles on the floor, then lit the candles, placed the necessary herbs around and summoned a fire demon, a third level djinni. He instructed my unfortunate colleague to turn invisible in order to not attract much attention, then melt the snow around his car and keep melting the snow in front of the Ford on the whole journey back to London. I saw that my colleague wasn't charmed by the idea, but hey, we've all been given worse tasks. He couldn't complain. It was a cold and wet job, but he was a fire demon, for heaven's sake! He couldn't catch a cold, unlike me (I was still suffering from a runny nose which could be rather unpleasant if you're a gnat – gnats don't have hankies, you know).
I took a place in the Ford's rear window and enjoyed the relative warmth of the car's inside. Mind you, it was again just a relative warmth. I still felt cold. And bored. Having to listen to a lengthy phone conversation between Nat and the Prime Minister about the things the speech had to contain made me yawn every five seconds. (As much as gnats can yawn.) I was also getting sick hearing the kid gushing 'oh, Mr Deveraux, I'm so grateful for this chance', 'I can't express with words how honoured I feel', and so on, and so on. The kid had learned the way of arse-licking, and I was sure he barely could wait to be powerful enough to have his own arse-lickers.
Despite the fire demon's work, we still weren't going fast enough for the kid's liking. We had to stand in a queue once near the town of Basingstoke. Two snow ploughs were trying to clear the snow off the road, and working rather slowly. I was rather enjoying the kid's frustration over having to wait patiently in the queue. Of course he could have got out of the car, yelled at the snow ploughs' drivers to clear off and let his demon do the work, but I suspected he didn't want to attract attention – at least not yet.
Finally, shortly before three o'clock, we arrived in London. The traffic was as bad as usual and it was five past three when we got to Trafalgar Square. The kid phoned Ffoukes to let him know that he'd arrived but couldn't access the podium because of the crowd.
"No problem," I heard Ffoukes' voice coming through Nat's mobile phone. "Just give me your exact location and I'll fetch you with an afrit. Deveraux graciously placed one of his afrits at your disposal."
"Oh, wonderful," Nat said and explained where exactly he was parking his car.
In two minutes Ffoukes appeared. "Hi, John. Nice scarf," he remarked with a grin.
"Oh, thanks. My wife knitted it. The cap too. Good that you remind me…" He pulled the cap and the scarf off himself and threw them onto the driver's seat of his Ford. I expect he didn't want people to see an important person like him wearing a fluffy blue cap and matching scarf. Such attire was okay for Nathaniel, but improper for Minister Mandrake.
For a moment Ffoukes paused, looking at the kid's Ford that was quite tiny compared to his usual limousine. "Cutesy little thing."
Nathaniel shrugged, trying to look indifferent. "I'm collecting cars. Shall we?"
The afrit that had made a way for Ffoukes through the throng led them to the podium. I was displeased to see that the magicians had fastened a tent-like thingie over it to protect the speaker from the possible droppings of the pigeons indigenous to Trafalgar Square. I would have loved to see the kid bombarded with pigeon excrement. He would have deserved it after having left his family at Christmas…
When the kid had thrown his scarf and cap into the car, I had turned into a spider and scurried out onto the pavement where I turned into a fly and followed them to the podium, hoping that the afrit and other bodyguard demons around wouldn't check me out on the upper planes.
The square was full of curious commoners, some of them waving the British flag. As I flew above the crowd, I spotted policemen and magical entities all around – they were presumably trying to protect the citizens in case there was a riot. I wasn't one for riots, but this time I wouldn't have minded one – at least the kid's speech would have been ruined.
I even spotted Jane Farrar near the podium. She was eyeing Nat rather darkly as he ascended the steps. At that moment I couldn't decide whom to root for: Jane who was an evil bitch or Nat who was a stupid jerk. I couldn't help it, I was still partial to Nat, even though I was mad at him for having disappointed his mum and wife.
"…and now, Ladies and Gentlemen, please listen to John Mandrake, Minister of Internal Affairs, whom our esteemed Prime Minster has asked to substitute for him today!"
Nathaniel drew himself up and stepped to the desk with the microphone. He looked slightly terrified by the sheer number of people listening to him, staring at him, expecting him to deliver an uplifting, inspiring speech. I allowed myself the pleasure of feeling satisfied by his momentary fright.
He adjusted his tie and took a deep breath. "Ladies and Gentlemen, dear children, beloved compatriots, citizens of the Empire! This Christmas is different from the rest – it is special for our nation, special for our country. This Christmas we, the British people have been given a wonderful gift – the gift of peace! After years and years of desperate fighting with the Americans, after having lost thousands of our valiant soldiers, our friends, our brothers, our fathers, finally, we can say that it's all behind us: WE HAVE WON!"
The crowd cheered, waved the flags and I saw the kid heave a relieved sigh. He had proved himself he wasn't that bad at this kind of thing. "The American rebels have capitulated this morning," he continued, his cheeks flushed with excitement. No doubt, he was enjoying all the attention. "We received the rebel leader's message of surrender at seven-thirty. In his message, he said he'd instructed all rebel forces to lay down their weapons throughout the country. No more bloodshed, no more death, no more suffering! Our nation has again proved to be strong, stronger than any nation on the face of Earth, and from now on, we will become even stronger! Stronger, because America is once more securely ours!"
Again cheers from the crowd, even louder than before.
"America is a rich country, with huge reserves of silver and copper, not to mention the immense uninhabited areas that are waiting for us to develop and build our cities on! With America once more under our control and with the Americans' taxes again flowing into our treasury, wealth awaits us, British citizens! Wealth beyond our imagination!"
Aha, of coooourse… The magicians will be even wealthier than before and the commoners won't notice any changes in their living standards. I bet Nat wasn't saying these things with the poverty he'd seen in the orphanage in mind. But what could you expect from a politician? There is no good or bad politician, there is only one kind of politician: who seeks powers and uses demagogy to persuade the people of his good will. It was sickening, yes, but pretty natural. Politicians have been doing the same for millennia. It wasn't new, but it was efficient, and Nathaniel knew it.
"Wealth for everyone within this Empire! From this day on, our slogan is Prosperity, Peace, Parity!"
People hoorayed, waved, and the kid looked really, really pleased with himself. He looked almost… predatory. Yeah, I think that's the right word for it. He was sizing up the crowd below like a lion checking out its prey. Like a lion, who knew that the prey was completely in its power. I didn't like this look on Nathaniel's face. Um… did I say Nathaniel? Oops. I meant to say John Mandrake. Because the young man speaking on the podium didn't resemble the once so innocent, good-hearted little Nat anymore. Just a few hours ago he had seemed to be softening in his mother's presence, but apparently the admiration of the crowd meant more to him than the love of his mother and wife.
Somewhere in the folds of the tent-cover, a fly sniffed. And not only because he had a cold.
o o o O O O o o o
Tears were running down Kitty's cheek as she stared at the television screen. She hated every word of her husband. It was all a lie. A beautifully fabricated lie, but a lie nevertheless. Peace? Prosperity? Parity? Whom was her husband fooling? Well, her he definitely wasn't. She knew that it was all just talk. Promises that wouldn't be kept. Why, has John ever kept a promise? – She thought, fishing her handkerchief out of her pocket.
There was a knock on the door and Kitty went to answer it.
"Oh, Esther."
"Why are you crying, child?" the older woman asked with a worried expression.
"I'm watching the Victory Speech," Kitty replied, wiping her tears.
"What victory speech?"
Kitty beckoned to Esther to take a place on the couch next to her. "Dear woman, here is your son," she whispered, pointing at the TV. "Be proud of him… if you can."
o o o O O O o o o
Weeks passed and Nathaniel was so busy substituting for Deveraux at various events that he didn't have time to visit Kitty at all. Once or twice a week he phoned her and asked how she was doing (once even asked about his mother) but I couldn't decide whether he really missed her (he told her every time on the phone that he did) or he considered his weekly calls a necessary but annoying obligation. Why would he consider talking to his wife annoying, you might ask? Well, because from what I gathered from their conversations, Kitty was every so often trying to talk him into being 'normal'. Because Nat was starting to become less and less 'normal' these days.
He was constantly basking in the light of fame, glory and power. He loved doing his new job: besides being Minister of Internal Affairs, he was now the unofficial Deputy PM. That old chap Weatherby was still the official deputy to Deveraux, but he was still having problems with his vocal cords and Deveraux was still weak from pneumonia, so the kid was filling in and enjoying it. I heard Ffoukes warning him about the envy of the other ministers, but the kid had just shrugged and said that the other ministers had tried to do him in at age twelve already and hadn't succeeded, so he didn't have any reason to be afraid of them now, especially because one of Deveraux's afrits was guarding him all the time.
Nat was becoming overconfident. Overconfident, overworking and overly an even bigger git than he'd used to be. Kitty didn't seem to have any influence on him anymore. Every time she tried to make him come to his senses, he told her off for being selfish and not being able to feel happy about his success. (Selfish, Kitty? The typical case of the pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me). I really felt like kicking him after these phone conversations.
Meanwhile, Jane Farrar kept summoning me once every week and forced me to tell her about every conversation of John's I had managed to eavesdrop on. I saw that she was most annoyed by his sudden fame, and for the first time I totally felt with her. I had been rooting for the kid for months, but now I no longer could decide whether he was any better than the Tramp.
I still didn't know what Farrar had done after she'd found out Nat's name, because she still refused to tell. I had a feeling it was something very, very bad, but couldn't help thinking that the kid deserved it, whatever it was. I no longer felt sorry for him, only for Kitty and their unborn child. Kitty deserved better for a husband than a power-hungry pretty boy who considered smiling into the cameras as the meaning of his life. That poor child too deserved someone better for a father – someone who cared enough to sit down at her bedside to tell her a story, instead of sipping champagne at cocktail parties.
To put it in a nutshell: the more time Nathaniel spent away from Kitty playing the role of 'the deputy of the deputy', the more he got enamoured with power.
On Valentine's Day he graciously instructed Ugli to fly to Fenny Bridges with a bouquet of a hundred red roses, and I was delighted to see the expression on the kid's face upon spotting Ugli returning with a hundred battered-looking roses and saying that the mistress had not wished to keep them and suggested that John give them to that tramp Jane Farrar. Apparently pregnancy hadn't dampened Kitty's spunk a bit. I really liked the girl. I began secretly hoping that she'd come to her senses and escape from the village before giving birth and bring up her child in peace somewhere far, far away from Nathaniel. It would have been better for her, better for the baby, only Nat would have probably suffered from it. (The latter thought made me feel rather cheerful).
o o o O O O o o o
It wasn't true that Nathaniel wasn't missing Kitty. He was. He loved her, and her sending him the roses back felt like a slap in the face. He simply couldn't fathom why she didn't understand how important it was for him to stay in London at the moment. She didn't understand that he was doing it for her! Or, at least partly for her.
He sighed as his glance fell upon the photo of Kitty on his worktable. She was smiling at him from the small, round silver frame, creating a fluttery feeling in his stomach. He really missed her – it was the second half of March and he hadn't even heard her voice for two weeks. But he had tasks here. He couldn't afford to leave for the weekend, or for just one day. He was a Very Important Person. And Very Important Persons didn't have much free time. Kitty surely would understand and forgive him later. She loved him, after all.
Sighing, he looked away from her photo to reach for a stack of documents when the door of his office opened and Jane Farrar pirouetted in.
"Good morning, Mr Mandrake," she said in a carefree voice. "Malbindi gave me these papers when we met on the corridor and asked me to give them to you." Seeing his frown, she quickly added: "I'm just delivering these. I'm not staying to try to seduce you or anything, don't worry about that."
"I'm not worried," he grunted, taking the papers from her. At that moment his mobile phone rang.
"Well, good-bye, Mr Mandrake," Jane said and started walking towards the door.
Nathaniel saw Kitty's name on the screen of his mobile phone. He didn't have the slightest idea why she was calling him early in the afternoon when she usually called him in the evening, if she called at all. After Valentine's Day they had barely talked at all. "Yes, Kitty?"
"John," she said weakly, "it's time."
"Time? For what?"
"The baby. She's coming."
Nathaniel blanched. "But… but… isn't it too early?"
"Three weeks early," she replied, her voice wavering. "Just thought I'd let you know. I don't expect you to be here, as you're such an important person and so busy. I'll phone you as soon as she's popped out. I've just sent Enid for the doctor. I'm fine, no need to feel worried or anything. Talk to you later."
"Wait, Kitty!" Nathaniel exclaimed. "I'm… I'm coming!"
"What, don't they need you in London?" She asked sarcastically.
"Nothing can be as important as this!"
"Really? Recently it seemed to me that it wasn't a bit important to you… Ahhh…"
"Kitty, are you all right?" he shouted into the telephone.
She wheezed for a few seconds, then said: "Yeah. Suppose so. And no need to shout. I'm just in labour, not deaf."
"Hold on, Kitty," Nathaniel said, not even noticing that his door closed with a soft click. "Hold on, and take deep breathes. I'll be there as quick as I can. Love you."
A few seconds of silence ensued, then she replied: "I love you too. Hurry."
o o o O O O o o o
I materialised in a pentacle in my feathered serpent form. In front of me, Jane Farrar looked very excited about something.
"She's gone into labour!" she announced happily.
"Huh?" I asked politely.
"Kitty Jones!"
"Oh. Isn't that a bit early?"
"Apparently it is," she said.
"And how do you know at all?" I flapped my wings a bit.
"I heard John… Nathaniel talk to her excitedly over the phone. I didn't hear what she was saying, but I heard him ramble about 'too early' and 'I'm coming, hold on', etcetera, etcetera. Actually, this early birth comes in handy for me – much better than if the baby were born after 26th March…"
I had no idea what she was talking about, but decided not to question her. She wouldn't tell either way.
"I want you to go with him to the village, then appear in my home as soon as the baby's born and you've heard its name. Then, Bartimaeus, I will dismiss you."
"Really?" I jumped in surprise. Did she truly intend to keep her promise and set me free? Every cell in my serpent body tingled with excitement. I wanted to leave this bloody place at last! I had served this infernal woman for almost nine months!
"Really." She nodded. "And now, go."
I went. Happily.
o o o O O O o o o
Nathaniel arrived in Fenny Bridges at eight p.m. He entered the house to find his mother coming out of the bathroom with a basin of hot water.
"How is she?" he blurted out.
"Not well. The contractions are coming every three minutes now," Esther replied grimly. He had never seen her looking so haggard.
"Are you assisting the doctor?"
She shook her head. "The doctor turns out to have broken his leg last week and is currently in hospital in Exeter. I'm playing the midwife."
"But… but… you could have called an ambulance from Exeter or something…"
"If we had done so and Kitty had been taken into hospital, they would have asked for her papers," his mother said darkly.
"Oh," he breathed. "I hadn't thought of that."
"But Kitty had. She said she couldn't risk anyone finding out that she's giving birth to a Minister's child… you might lose your job." Esther gave her son a piercing look. "You have neglected the poor girl for months, and she's still defending your honour. I hope you know you don't deserve her sacrifice, her love."
Nathaniel opened his mouth, but couldn't think of any proper answer, so he rather turned away from her and hurried into the bedroom.
"Kitty!" He dropped himself on his knees next to her and grabbed her hand.
"Nathaniel…" She gave him a weak smile. "You've come… you've really come…"
"Of course I've come! How could I have left you alone now?"
She shook her head. "I weren't alone. Your mum is here and so is Enid. They're really helpf… ohhh…"
Nathaniel clenched his teeth as Kitty squeezed his hand in pain. Seeing her suffer like this, he caught himself wishing he weren't a magician – they could have taken Kitty into a hospital then where she would have been given professional medical aid. At that moment he felt ashamed of his selfishness. If he hadn't held on to his magician status so tightly, Kitty could have been given every comfort during her pregnancy and labour. But his status had been more important…
Kitty let out an ear-splitting scream, and Nathaniel felt his mother pulling him away from his wife. He staggered to the back of the room, his eyes never leaving Kitty's tormented face. Without even noticing that his lips had silently started to move, he began reciting something he'd heard from Mrs Underwood a few times. "Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…"
o o o O O O o o o
I must admit I was almost enjoying seeing the kid so frightened. Of course, his fright could be put down to Kitty's terrible condition, and that was something I wasn't a bit happy about. But if I had seen him this scared-to-death because of something else, I would have been delighted about it.
I perched on the top of the wardrobe as a spider, watching as Esther and Enid busied themselves around Kitty. Nat was leaning against the wall, his face as white as a sheet. I thought he was close to fainting. He belonged to those people who couldn't bear to look at disgusting things. Why, just remember how he'd reacted to Harlequin's bladder-candle in Prague… Apparently he couldn't stand the sight of blood either. I naturally could – I had fought in several battles before and seen enough of it to not be sick.
Finally, sometime around ten, the baby was born. You should have seen the look on Nat's face! He looked as pale, sweaty and relieved as though it had been him giving birth, not Kitty.
Enid washed the baby in the basin while Esther cleaned up Kitty. The young mother fell asleep within a few minutes, even before she could have taken her daughter into her arms. She was horribly tired, the poor thing.
Nat sat on the bed next to her and wiped her sweaty locks out of her face, gently caressing her cheek. "You've done it, Kitty. You were wonderful." He kissed her on the forehead, and I thought I'd seen a smile on her face, even though I doubted if she had heard him at all.
o o o O O O o o o
"Let's go out and let her sleep," Esther suggested, cradling the newborn child in her arms. Nathaniel nodded, following her out of the room, giving his wife one last glance before he shut the door. His heart clenched at the sight – she was deadly pale, there were shadows under her eyes, and for the first time since he'd known her, she looked week and fragile.
"She'll be all right," his mother said quietly, seeing the concern on his face.
"I hope she will," he muttered, sinking onto the sofa. "I don't know what I'd do without her…"
"Don't worry, Nathaniel," Esther said with a smile. "It was a fairly easy birth."
"Easy? That seemed easy to you?"
Esther shrugged. "I've seen worse. And Kitty's a strong girl. She'll be all right in three-four days."
"What if not? What if she contracts some infection now that her body is so weakened and… dies?" he whispered. "Probably I should take her back to London. If anything goes wrong, I could take her to a hospital-"
"And let the doctors know that a magician's wife has just given birth?" The woman raised an eyebrow at him.
"I could take her to a private clinic, where the doctors are… corruptible. For money they'd keep their mouths shut."
"You should have thought of this earlier, you know," she pointed out.
"I was thinking of something like this, but the baby came early," he replied with an innocent look. "It's not my fault."
"But it is your fault that you sent your pregnant wife to the back of beyond, risking both her and the baby!"
The baby in her arms whimpered and she looked down at the little one lovingly, forgetting that she was supposed to be angry with her son. "She doesn't even have a name yet."
Nathaniel shrugged. "I haven't talked about names with Kitty. We both know that once our daughter becomes a magician apprentice, she will need to forget her old name, and will get a new one. So… we just didn't bother with thinking of names."
"But my granddaughter needs to have a name for the first five years of her life," Esther pointed out.
"Well, her surname should be Jones, after her mother, as though she were illegitimate. After all, from a certain point of view, she is. As for the given name…" Nathaniel made a contemplative expression. He was in trouble – he didn't know any female names he actually liked. Besides Kitty, of course. He cast around for names, thinking of the very few females he had known. Then, as quick as a lightning, the brainwave came. A gentle smile spread on his face. "Martha. Her name shall be Martha."
"Judging by your smile, you have known a Martha," his mother remarked. "I hope it wasn't an earlier girlfriend of yours…"
Nathaniel let out a small laugh. "No, she was my… almost-mother." Seeing the woman shudder, he continued: "She was the wife of my first master. She cared for me. I could say she loved me…"
Esther looked away, and seeing her lips tremble, he knew she was on the verge of tears. Before he knew what he was doing, he stood up, walked over to her and sat down next to her. "I know you would have given me all the love that I got from her, if you had had a chance."
She looked up at him, her eyes watering. "You do?"
He put an arm around her shoulder. "Yes, I do."
"A… aren't you mad at me any longer?"
Nathaniel gave her a sad smile. "No, I'm not… Mother."
Tears were now freely flowing down her cheeks, onto the baby's face. "Oh, look, I'm soaking your daughter… You'd better take her from me."
"Me?" His eyes widened. "No… I'd just… break her or something."
Esther chuckled. "Break her? Babies are not porcelain vases, Nathaniel." With that, she gently but determinedly pushed Martha into her father's arms.
Nathaniel couldn't find words for what he was feeling. This tiny girl was so soft, so sensitive, and so dependent on him at the moment. "A…are they all this wrinkly?"
"Most of them, yes."
Nathaniel just stared and stared at his daughter, not being able to take his eyes off her. She was ugly and beautiful at the same time. Black hair framed her wrinkly little face, and her tiny lips were moving, as though she were sucking an invisible breast. No doubt, she'd become a real beauty when she grew up. Nathaniel caught himself imagining a young woman with Kitty's face and his own blue eyes… His heart filled with warmth and joy so much that he thought it was simply too much to take. He wasn't used to getting 'emotional floods' like this… It made him feel awkward.
His mobile phone rang. The baby began crying. Almost relieved to be able to put Martha down and stop his 'emotional flood', Nathaniel pushed her back into his mother's arms and hurried out of the building.
"What is it, Ffoukes?" he asked, shivering in the cold night air.
"At last, John! I've been looking for you for hours, even visited your house, but your foliot didn't know where you were!"
"I… I had to leave London. Why, what happened?"
"Remember Maggie Watson?"
"Yes. We sent a search sphere after her in July."
"Exactly," Ffoukes said, his voice sounding excited. "One of our men has been watching her through the sphere ever since, and guess what happened today evening?"
"What?"
"She returned to London and is currently at a building that we suspect might be the Resistance Headquarters."
"Oh."
"'Oh?' Is that all you can say? Boss, it's your big chance to round up the Resistance! We beat the Americans, caught most Yankee terrorists lurking in London, we're almost on the top, and the only step we've got to make to get there is to put the Resistance behind bars!"
"Y…yes. You're right. Do we have enough men?"
"I have gathered fifty. They're all standing here, waiting for your order."
Nathaniel glanced back at the house and felt a pang of remorse. Kitty. What would Kitty say if he sent the whole Resistance into the Tower?
"John, are you still there?"
"Yes…"
"Good. Before I forget: Weatherby had his third heart attack this afternoon. He's dead."
Nathaniel's heart began beating faster. The Deputy Prime Minister was dead! Deveraux surely wanted him to be his new deputy, but if he missed the chance to do away with the Resistance, he might miss his chance for promotion as well. And, if he put those miscreants behind bars, Deveraux would surely be grateful enough to him to offer him Weatherby's place right away…
Ffoukes was right, this was his great chance. Kitty would understand. She's very understanding…
"You've got my orders, Ffoukes. Send your people after them and catch everyone you can. I'll be back in London as soon as possible."
o o o O O O o o o
I appeared in the Tramp's room in the form of a baby. I know, it's kind of a cheap trick, mostly used by imps, but hey, I wasn't impersonating a random baby, I was impersonating Nat and Kitty's – just for the effect, you know. "Okay, the information you wanted to know: this," I pointed with my tiny hands at myself, "was born half an hour ago and named Martha Jones by Nat himself."
My mistress wrinkled her nose. "Is his kid really this ugly?"
"Ugly?" the baby made an angry face. "I'm beautiful! As beautiful as a newborn baby can be, that is. Of course, I doubt if you have seen a newborn baby close up… you magicians always wait for the kids to be five before you take them as your apprentices, to make sure you don't have to dirty your hands with nappies or spend your time with potty-training… Eh. You think you're too distinguished for that, huh?"
"I'm not interested in your views of magician society," the Tramp snapped. "Move into the pentacle."
My insides squirmed gleefully and I almost peed on the Tramp's carpet in excitement. (I was a baby, after all… anyone could have forgiven me for that… well, perhaps not the Tramp.) "I hope we're not going to see each other any time soon," I said jovially. "Try and not to summon me ever again, if possible."
She scowled at me, stepping into her own pentacle. "Don't worry, Bartimaeus. I don't intend to summon you ever again. I've had enough of your cheek."
"Don't say it wasn't entertaining once in a while," I said, changing into my Ptolemy form, sending her a wide grin.
"Oh, shut your mouth at least once," she grunted. "I'm trying to concentrate on the dismissing spell."
"Oh, goodie. I'll shut up." And I did. She said the words, and I felt my ties to this world weakening. For a second Nathaniel, Kitty, Nat's mum and little Martha came into my mind. I felt a pang of remorse, but it was gone as soon as I left this world. I was free at last and hoped I'd never have to see Jane or Nat again.
o O o
A/N: kindly tell me your opinion :)
Also, I've recently started posting a new (almost) novel-length Superman fanfic on ffnet. If you liked Harry's amnesia in The Greatest Scandal in Hogwarts History, if you liked the jungle adventures in The Aztec Incident, and if you simply like my writing style, then you'll like this story too. So go read it and review:D