And voila: it's an update. It would have been up a week and a half earlier, but my computer decided that then would be a nice time to die on me. But now it's back and (hopefully) fixed, so the next chapter probably won't take as long. Thanks for being patient!

Disclaimer: See previous chapter.

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Accepting Irony
Chapter 3
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"What in blazes are you doing up there?"

Mandrake's voice broke into Kitty's concentration and caused her to drop down from the ceiling; when she wasn't feeling highly emotional, she needed to focus in order to stay afloat. Halfway down she managed to catch herself and flip right side up again, and drifted the rest of the way to the floor gently. Mandrake looked torn between amusement and displeasure: it appeared she had been right in guessing that he expected her to be gone in the morning.

"I was standing," Kitty told him, peeved at the interruption. She had discovered about an hour after the magician went up to bed last night that she didn't need to sleep, and so had spent the several hours she had alone experimenting with her ghostly powers.

"Standing," the magician repeated, still looking as if he didn't know whether to laugh or kick something.

"Yes, standing," she said defensively. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no," Mandrake said, his eyebrows nearly blending into his hairline, "Not at all. I suppose I'm just a little confused as to why you were standing on my ceiling."

Kitty was grateful that she was now incapable of blushing: when it was put that way, what she had thought was an interesting activity sounded extremely stupid.

"Well, you'd be bored too," she said defensively, "If you had to wait around eight hours while the person you're supposed to be helping out was sleeping."

"So sorry," Mandrake said sarcastically, "I'll make sure to deprive myself of any sort of rest from now on, if it will keep you entertained."

"Shut up," Kitty muttered, feeling even more ridiculous.

"Mature," Mandrake remarked, and she scowled.

"Do you think you could refrain from getting under my skin first thing in the morning?" she asked irritably. "I was perfectly happy until you came down."

"Feel free to return to the ceiling if it's such a source of enjoyment," the magician responded, looking amused. "Meanwhile, I'll be having my breakfast, and then we'll leave for Whitehall."

Food. Kitty abandoned all thought of floating upside-down and instead drifted after Mandrake into his dining room. He looked at her quizzically, but didn't comment. A plate was already laid out on the table for him when they entered.

Chair, Kitty reminded herself before she dropped into the seat next to Mandrake. As he began to eat his omelet, she concentrated and plucked a triangle of toast off one of the plates in the center of the table. Mandrake swallowed the bite he had been chewing and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Help yourself," he said dryly.

"You have a bit of egg between your teeth," Kitty told him with a wicked grin, and he quickly snapped his mouth shut and glared at her. She pretended not to notice this while she spread butter onto her piece of toast.

Mandrake, having extracted the part of his omelet stuck in his teeth, leaned his chin on one hand and watched her curiously as she bit into the toast.

She swallowed, concentrating hard on the food, but when she turned to demand what Mandrake was looking at she lost her focus and the chewed-up piece of toast dropped right through her onto the seat of the chair. The boy wrinkled his nose, and Kitty floated upwards out of her chair, hovering over it and looking at the pulpy remnants of her toast in mixed regret and embarrassment. Really, what had she been thinking? If she didn't need to sleep, why would she need to eat?

She glanced over and noticed that Mandrake was staring at her in a sort of horrified shock, as if unable to comprehend that someone could drop a chewed-up piece of toast on one of his chairs and not fall to their knees begging for forgiveness.

"Whoops," she offered somewhat ungenerously, shrugging her ghostly shoulders.

-

Several minutes later, she had cleared up the mess on her chair to make the still appalled Mandrake feel better (which, she was pleased to note, caused a few blue shoots to appear amongst the red and violet in her aura) and watched with mild jealousy as he finished the rest of his breakfast. The crunching sound of tires of gravel caught her attention and a horn honked politely, if that was even possible. Mandrake, who had been brushing his teeth, reappeared and led the way to the front door. He grabbed a long coat off of a hook near the door, the same one, Kitty noted with some revulsion, that he had been wearing every time she saw him last year. She could tell because of the dark purple stain just beneath the surface, which she could see thanks to her new ghost-vision. That stain was the only remnant of the mouler she had caused to burst over the magician last year. The memory both amused her and caused her gut to wrench a bit.

"Are you coming?"

She started and looked over at Mandrake, who had one hand on the doorknob and was looking at her curiously. She nodded and joined him at the door, which he let her pass through first. At first she was surprised by this display of chivalry, but then realized that he was probably making sure she didn't shut the door and cause the chauffer to wonder exactly how the door closed of its own accord.

That was, of course, assuming the chauffer couldn't see her. If he could, he didn't look surprised that Mandrake had a girl with him. Did the magician often have female visitors? She fervently hoped this wasn't the case, or she would be forced to be horrified. Not only were the implications a bit disgusting, but her whole perception of Mandrake would have to be rearranged, and she didn't want to devote any more thought to him than was absolutely necessary (a difficult task, given her situation.)

Her worries were alleviated when the chauffer didn't even glance at her when she slid cautiously into the back of the car, but instead only said, "Good morning, Mr. Mandrake," and started the engine as the magician closed the door. Mandrake pressed a button and a screen slid up between them and the driver, and the magician turned to her.

"Would he normally say something if you came out with a girl?" Kitty said as she motioned towards the divider, just to be sure. Mandrake blinked and said, "I assume he would, if I ever did. I'm sure he can't see you, if that's what you mean – he didn't even glance at you."

Kitty nodded and settled back against the soft leather of the seat, suddenly in a good mood. Now they wouldn't have to come up with an explanation as to who she was and why she was following Mandrake around: besides being a difficult task, she couldn't imagine lying would do much for her or Mandrake's auras.

"So what exactly do you do all day?" she asked him. She remembered that he had worked in the Department of Internal Affairs, but it had apparently been a year since then.

"I'm head of my department now," he told her, and Kitty didn't miss the note of satisfaction in his voice. "I deal with internal problems, such as…"

His voice trailed off, no doubt just realizing he was venturing into potentially awkward territory.

"Rebellions from within," Kitty said tonelessly, sparing him the trouble of plowing on. "And things like the golem…right?"

"Right," he agreed. "I can't say it's terribly exciting – it's a lot of responsibility, but it mostly comes in the form of mountains of paperwork that need to be taken care of."

"Thrilling," Kitty said. "Maybe if I'm really lucky you'll let me help you with said paperwork."

She instantly regretted saying it, as Mandrake seemed to be seriously considering this idea.

"I don't know," he said after a minute. "I should probably handle it myself, just to make sure it's done properly."

Kitty's eyes narrowed. "And what are you implying?"

-

Balmung, hell's resident archdemon, prowled through the lower levels, masking his nervousness with a hideous and, after millennia of practice, well-honed scowl. Orange eyes reflecting the terrifying inferno at hell's core drove deeply into every soul they landed on, inspiring pure fear and awe.

That, at least, was the idea. Most souls in the lower levels were difficult to intimidate, hence their location. They were kept in cells made of stone that glowed red from the incredible heat and tormented by ceaseless, ghastly sounds and apparitions until they tried boring through the rock in order to escape. Long scrapes on the walls served as testaments to their trauma. It usually gave Balmung a warm, fuzzy feeling inside every time he saw them.

But not today.

His large, sinewy wings flapped suddenly in agitation, creating a snapping sound that echoed off the walls. A few howls of agony reached Balmung's ears, but they didn't bring him any pleasure (well, a little, but it was mostly overridden by the persistent feeling of dread tugging at his innards).

Today he was descending to the lowest level, where the nastiest souls were kept. Not only were they almost entirely evil, but they were usually insane as well. It didn't make for pleasant conversation. And this one…well, this one was worse than most.

It really figured that it would be this one that Satan chose to be his Soul Man.

However, Balmung admitted to himself with pursed lips, it was a logical choice. Not only was this soul vicious, but it had a score to settle with the girl, and thanks to its obsessive nature, it would make sure she got what was coming to her.

Balmung ran a black, twisted claw down the front of the cell door; with a horrible screech, an inner mechanism was triggered and the door swung open. The soul inhabiting the cell turned from where it was idly carving curse words into the stone of the wall and stared at Balmung, waiting for him to speak.

"Honorius, Satan wants a word."

-

Kitty stared at the sluggishly changing numbers above the elevator door, hovering a few inches off the floor for the heck of it. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Mandrake adjust his tie for what seemed like the millionth time – what was with this guy and straight clothing? She had heard him moving around his bedroom getting ready for ages before he had decided to come downstairs. It was her firm opinion that he worried too much about his appearance. He was beginning to make her think he was obsessive-compulsive.

"For all the government's wealth, you have the slowest elevators in existence," she pointed out, frustrated with the tedious journey upwards. "And of course your office has to be on the top floor. Couldn't you have just taken the stairs?"

"Quit complaining," Mandrake told her, pulling at his collar and flicking his arms so that his sleeves hung straighter. "Or are you in some sort of hurry?"

"I didn't realize you enjoyed riding in elevators so much. I hope I'm not spoiling the experience."

"Funny," Mandrake said thoughtfully, "I thought that dismissing Bartimaeus would save me from having to suffer perpetual sarcasm."

"If that's one of your bigger problems, you don't have enough of them," Kitty said darkly, frowning at his reflection in the metal door of the elevator. With a ping, the last number on the row above the door lit up, and the door slid open. Slowly. If she was faced with any more surprises, she would just die all over again.

She floated behind Mandrake as he made his way past several offices, cubicles, and straight-faced magicians who stopped and greeted him politely as he walked past them, usually receiving nothing more than a curt nod in response. Kitty made a mental note to tell him to be friendlier to his colleagues.

Finally they reached the door to his office. Mandrake pulled out a small golden key and unlocked it. After a series of clicks, the door swung open. Kitty looked around curiously while the magician closed the door.

The room was spacious, dominated by a large desk made out of shiny, dark wood, behind which stood a high-backed, comfortable looking chair. Two chairs, not quite as nice as Mandrake's, were set a little back from the front of the desk, no doubt for the people who came to speak with him. File cabinets and bookshelves lined the walls, all in order. No messy piles of paper or other kinds of clutter were to be found here. How shocking.

"Nice office," Kitty said, sinking back onto the carpeted floor and walking over to the window. It looked down on a courtyard crisscrossed by neat little paths, shaded by the leafy branches of several trees and studded with benches. No doubt a popular spot for lunch parties, where cucumber sandwiches (which Kitty had never liked) and punch would abound.

"Thank you," Mandrake said absently, moving behind his desk and opening one of the drawers. He extracted a sizable pile of papers, which he set on his desk in a neat pile.

"If I had an office like this," Kitty said, deciding to drop a hint about his attitude towards his underlings, "I'd be a bit nicer to the people working for me."

Mandrake, who had taken a seat in the chair behind the desk, turned to look at her in consternation, his brow knitting. "What do you mean?"

"All those people said polite hellos to you, and you just jerked your head at them like they were wasting their time."

The magician scowled.

"I think you're exaggerating just a tad. Did you notice the number of people milling around out there? If I stopped to chitchat with all of them, I wouldn't make it to my office until one in the afternoon."

"Did I say you had to hold a conversation with all of them?" Kitty asked, trying to keep her voice mild – one eye was on her slightly reddened aura. "I'm just saying, you could at least say hello back instead of that dismissive nod. I'm just trying to do what I've been sent back here to do," she added defensively as Mandrake opened his mouth, looking highly annoyed. He closed his mouth again and grumpily contemplated her words.

"Fine," he said grudgingly after a moment, proverbial feathers still ruffled. "I suppose that couldn't hurt."

"No," she agreed cheerfully, dropping into one of the chairs facing his desk and folding her legs underneath her.

Three hours later, she was seriously considering jumping out of the window from boredom. All morning Mandrake had worked steadily through his pile of paperwork, occasionally interrupted by questions from some harried-looking junior minister or another. A portly man called Ffoukes showed up often, Kitty noticed. Judging by the resigned expression that worked its way onto Mandrake's face every time Ffoukes came bursting through the door, she decided this was a regular routine.

Needless to say, Kitty was immensely relieved when Mandrake stood, stretched, and announced that he was going out for lunch. Although her pleasure at the prospect of escaping the office was slightly dampened by the knowledge that she couldn't eat anything anyway, at least there would be a change of scenery.

"God," she said as he climbed into his car after her and shut the door, "Except in times of crisis, you must have the most mundane job on earth."

"It's not that bad," Mandrake protested. "And I prefer paperwork to the stress of an impending disaster, thank you very much."

"A disaster would be more exciting," Kitty pointed out.

And, ironically enough, a disaster was exactly what lay in store for them, although Kitty was completely unaware of it at the time. Honorius the deceased afrit grinned maliciously as he beat his wings lazily high above the black speck that was Mandrake's car, the girl and boy within completely unaware that a year's worth of the strain of being in the innermost circle of hell was about to fall on them like a ton of bricks.