When Philippa stepped into Heathrow Airport, the first thing she saw was her uncle's butler, Groanin, waving at her with an unusually wide smile on his face. Apparently, Philippa thought as she ran over to hug him, he had missed her just as much as she had him.

"It's good to see you, my dear, I say it's very good to see you" Groanin said when all the hugging was done. "My, how you have grown! Unfortunately, Nimrod couldn't come to pick you up himself, as he has a meeting in town with some gentlemen. He tells me to apologize to you for not being there in person. You'll meet him later, I'm sure. But where is your brother? I say, where's John?"

"John couldn't come" Philippa said. "He's going to the Hamptons with his girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Groanin repeated, snorting. "Isn't he a bit too young to be running around having girlfriends?"

"It's only one girlfriend" Philippa smiled. "And he's almost sixteen, just as I am. I think that's old enough. Also, after all we've been through, it's a bit silly to say that we're 'too young' for…that."

"Oh dear, Philippa, of course you're right, and I'm wrong. I keep forgetting that you're not little kids anymore…" Groanin cleared his throat and tried to steer back. "So, John has a nice young lady now. Well, well. Surely there's also a nice young man in store for you, isn't there?"

Philippa blushed. "For me? Uh…I haven't actually…thought of that very much…" That was true. Philippa's whole range of romantic experience pretty much came down to one hasty peck on the cheek from Dybbuk from which nothing had evolved, and a silly little crush on a travel companion in their last adventure. Well, Dybbuk was evil now and Axel had died, and even if it weren't so, she wouldn't have gotten anywhere with either of them. Philippa refused to let this trouble her mind and didn't spare much thought on romance. It would all happen sometime, surely. And in the meantime, why get all worried about it?

As Philippa got out of the car at her uncle's place, Groanin unlocked the door for her and bid her go inside alone. "You know your way around, don't you? I'll be busy in the garden with some difficult roses."

"But, Groanin, you working in the rose garden? You didn't use to do gardening before…right? I mean…as Uncle Nimrod's personal butler…"

Groanin gave an indignant huff. "Too right, miss! In the good old days, the garden used to manage itself, via Sir's djinn powers. But now that he has to save up, powers-wise, the garden has to be manhandled. Sir has not yet had leisure to hire a gardener, so I must do for now. And not only the garden! The cleaning, the cooking, the car maintenance…"

"And you do all that yourself?" Philippa asked, slightly horrified. That sounded like an impossible workload for a single man, even if that man had super-strength in one of his arms like Mr. Groanin.

"Oh no, it' not all that bad. These days I get some help from…but go in and see for yourself."

And with that, Groanin disappeared to the rose garden, leaving the front door unlocked and Philippa slightly puzzled. Who was it that Groanin was getting help from? She couldn't really imagine her uncle squatting down to help his butler primp the rose bushes. Grinning over the image, she went inside.

The entrance hall was empty so far, but there was a red coat hanging on a coat rack to show that Uncle Nimrod was probably back home now. The red coat was accompanied by some others that couldn't possibly be Nimrod's, for their size and non-read color.

Anyway, her uncle was home, maybe she should go look for him.

Philippa had ambled through some rooms when she heard a sound from somewhere. As she tried following it, it turned from nondescript, low-level noise to music. Two voices, one male one female, were singing along to it.

I got my ticket for the long way round, the one with the prettiest of views,

It's got mountains, it's got rivers, it's got sights to make you shiver,

But it sure would be prettier with you…

When I'm gone, when I'm go-one, you're gonna miss me when I'm gone…

Philippa knew the song, and it didn't surprise her that the singing was accompanied by clapping and the rattling of cups. The voices sounded young and happy. What was going on?

She ended up following the music to the kitchen, where it was joined by the smell of baking cookies. Peeking in through the door, she saw the back of a boy who was right now taking a batch of cookies out of the oven, while a girl sat on the kitchen table, a plastic cup in her hands, empty of course.

Philippa knocked and let herself in. "Hey, um…excuse me…?"

The two of them turned around.

"Oh, hello, long time no see…" said Zadie Eloko.

"…Miss Philippa" added Rudyard Teer.

"You again!" Philippa said pointing at Rudyard. "Why are you always around these days? What are you doing here? This is my uncle's house! Also, Zadie? Weren't you in Brazil teaching indigenous children?"

"Yes, I was. But now I'm here. Call it obligation." Zadie had changed a lot since the last time Philippa had seen her. Her hair was cut in a short bob-style, her clothes were less childish, more mature and centered around the color purple. But the most significant change was the whole aura that surrounded her. The insecure girl with her crippling fear of failure was gone – Zadie looked self-assured and happy, a young woman who had made her way in the world, not a little girl anymore. But still she had her toothbrush in the corner of her mouth, where other people would have lollipops, or cigarettes. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Rudyard, meanwhile, was, as always, Rudyard – dark clothes, hair dyed red, milky pale face. He didn't resemble his father much, Philippa noted, even less now that there was no trace of evil sneer on his face. That maybe was the only change on Rudyard – attitude. Less loud, less smarmy, less stupid-gullible-daddy's-boy…but more silent, polite and, like Zadie, mature. Well, they had all grown up in the last few years.

"Zadie has kindly chosen to assist us on our latest quest" Nimrod, who was suddenly standing in the doorway, said. "Rudyard, meanwhile, is an envoy from the Ifrit. Anyway, welcome, Phil. I take it John couldn't come? What a pity. That would have been too nice, the three of us united again in the face of danger…oh well, we're going to have a good time nonetheless. Hmmm, is this cookies I smell?"

Philippa smiled. This was her uncle as she knew him. She felt reminded of their very first meeting many years back. Nimrod had a way of barging into meetings and burying everyone under a pile of excited chatter.

"Cookies indeed, sir" Zadie said and slid from the table. "Chocolate chip, sir. Rudyard helped me make them."

"Oh, how nice" Nimrod replied without missing a beat. "Why don't we take them upstairs and talk? We have so much catching up to do."

The kids followed Nimrod to one of the mansion's many sitting rooms. Halfway up the stairs, Zadie suddenly turned to Rudyard and, making excited hand gestures, said: "Can I just…say something crazy?"

Rudyard rolled his eyes skywards and looked exasperated for a second, but then he smirked and, after an enduring sigh, answered with: "I love crazy."

Zadie started to sing: "All my life has been a series of doors in my face, and then suddenly I bump into you…"

And, baffling Philippa to no end, Rudyard answered: "I'm thinking the same thing! Cause like – I've been searching my whole life to find my own place – and maybe it's the party talking or the chocolate fondue-"

"But with youuuuu-"

"But with youuuuu I found my place-"

"-I see your face-"

"And it's nothing like I've ever known before - love is an open door…!"

All the way to the room, they performed a Disney song together, complete with dance routine. Philippa exchanged a worried glance with her uncle, who just shrugged.

"Things in this house have become a lot more…musical since Zadie arrived" he told her. "Apparently she's given up on tap dancing and developed her voice instead."

"Hmm…well, she does sound nice…" Philippa admitted and left them to it. As the two had finally stopped singing at each other, Philippa asked: "So, um…are you two, um…a thing now?" There were few more unlikely pairings she could imagine, but…still. The bizarre occurrence she had witnessed just now warranted the question.

Zadie laughed. "A thing? No, we are not a thing. We've been cooped up here for the better of two weeks and watched some Disney movies together, that's all. Did you know that Rudy here sings in a band?"

"Don't call me Rudy."

"No…I didn't know." There were actually very few things, come to think of it, that Philippa knew about Rudyard Teer. It was weird to think about. "And you've been helping Groanin with the housework?" she asked.

"Yeah" Zadie said. "Well, it's been mostly me helping. Rudyard was a horribly lazy bugger most of the time."

"It's an Ifrit thing. Runs in my family" Rudyard muttered.

"Nobody ever runs in your family, Rudy. That's the problem" Zadie bantered.

"Well, I guess you're right" Rudyard said.

"Huh?"

"My family has a lot of problems. I see them somewhat differently now, I think, ever since…"

"Here we are now" Nimrod interrupted them. "Please sit down, Philippa. There's a lot that you must hear. Zadie, could you and Rudyard maybe go back to the kitchen and bring tea up here? I feel it would be rude to bother Groanin now. He has so much to do these days. A solution must be found for that problem."

As the two of them had gone, Philippa sank into one of the fluffy couches and waited patiently for her uncle to explain.

"First off, Phil, I should probably explain Rudyard's presence."

"You said he was an envoy."

"Yes. In the face of the threat we're, well, facing, the Marid and the Ifrit are about to reach something that has not been seen between our tribes since probably the beginning of it all."

"Open war?"

"An understanding."

Philippa did not quite understand. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"We are working towards a kind of truce, the Ifrit and I" Nimrod explained. "Of course they're rather hesitant towards me. That one of Iblis's own sons has been sent as envoy is already a large step. Iblis values, I might even say loves, his sons. It means that they are willing to trust… if not the Marid tribe, then at least me. Well, a lot of them are afraid now, and that means they might open up to us."

"Afraid?" Philippa asked. "What would the Ifrit be afraid of?"

"That is exactly the point" Nimrod replied. "Have I ever told you, however briefly, about the various djinn cults or sects there are?"

"I know about the eremites…the djinn that forsake wealth."

"The eremites are harmless. The sect that we will be talking about unfortunately is anything but. They have existed for a very long time, however all good djinn will avoid talking about them at all. When we have to, we simply call them The Cult. They refer to themselves as djinnhadists, which is not a name we like."

"What, like jihadists? I saw something about them on the TV."

"Of course you did…in America. Anyhow, these djinn are not involved with the Muslim faith at all, radical or no. They just pinched some vocabulary off them. Jihad means nothing but Holy War, and these warmongers are indeed of the opinion that they are fighting one."

"Really?"

"Yes. Another name they call themselves is Trueborn Sons of Taranushi which, in my opinion, is an even stranger name than djinnhadists. They aim to enforce a made-up law which is pretty much based on their belief of superiority."

"Excuse me…who do they think they're superior to?"

"Oh, a lot of people. Mundanes, eremites, half-tribes and burnt-outs, to name a few. They believe that there must be no inter-tribal breeding, especially not between good and evil, to keep bloodlines pure…which I personally think is nonsense. Djinn have never bothered about blood. Why start now? Also there must be no breeding between djinn and humans. The fruition of such an interaction is something they deem abominable and worthy of death. They deem a lot of things abominable. They were, as you might have guessed, the people who attacked you the other night."

"Yes, that fits…one of them called me abomination."

"I'm very sorry to say that, Phil, but burnt-out djinn are another group they want to eradicate. They think they have outlived their usefulness for society."

"What a disgusting way to think."

"Indeed it is."

"And the Ifrit agree on that?"

"They have their oddballs, half-tribes and burnouts just like we have. And it may surprise anyone who doesn't know them well, but they stick together. Yes, they do."

"Huh. What I still don't really get is…if this cult has been existing for such a long time, why are they suddenly a problem now? What changed?"

"Ah. Yes. That is a complicated matter. You know, a few years ago, someone made a prophecy. It was…difficult to understand, it had a lot to do with things that were long past, and nobody really got to the bottom of it. But the members of the sect have interpreted it as an omen that their time has come now. Or maybe they have read something in it that no one else has. Anyway, according to this prophecy, the cult, once it has risen, will set out to acquire some sort of artifact that is sacred to them. This thing is said to have the power to enslave all of djinnkind, good or otherwise."

"And of course no one wants them to have that artifact."

Nimrod waved it off. "The artifact is of secondary meaning right now. I'm rather more worried about all the people that will in the near future be targeted by these madmen. You and your family, sadly, among them."

"You mean they'll threaten us again? Oh no…"

"Yes. You and John are even doubly abominable. You have no djinn powers, and your father is a mundane. Also Layla has forsaken her djinn powers, which is, guess what…"

"Abominable?"

"Yes. Now I myself have been known to express the opinion that a djinn shouldn't throw away their natural gift when there's so much good work one could be doing with it. But I have not been known to kill people who do not share my opinion. I respect your mother's decision. They, I'm afraid, won't."

"They surely wouldn't risk getting on mom's bad side…I mean, remember what happened to the last people who did?"

"Yes, I remember. I agree that Layla will probably not be attacked directly as of now, and neither will your father as long as she's with him. But that only means that you and John are in even greater danger."

"Oh great" Philippa remarked. "And we can't even defend ourselves…"

"That's why I'm quite glad that you're here, Philippa, where we can protect you. It would be even better if John were here too, but there's no way we can change that now. I hope you don't mind staying close to me in the near future. Even if I embark on some missions out of town."

"What kind of missions?"

"Of a diplomatic nature, mostly. Little to no danger, these days."

"Then I don't mind. Where will we be going?"

"Well, first off, we're going to take a little journey to Las Vegas, to visit an old…friend of mine."

"You want to go to Vegas? Really? Isn't that a bit…daring? What with all the Ifrit there."

Nimrod clicked his tongue and shook his head a bit. "Listen, Phil. It is high time that all of us shed our image of the Ifrit tribe as the ultimate evil. They are a bad lot, granted, but nowadays there's…hope. And bad or not, it may be of utmost importance to the world that we reach a peace with them."

"Of utmost importance to the world? Why's that?"

"It's all to do with the prophecy I mentioned earlier. I will explain that in due time. Anyway, you needn't worry. We'll be alright in Vegas. And if we get into a tight spot with the Ifrit…this will help us." He took a manila envelope from his desk and gave it to her. "These documents are from Faustina, and they will be our best friend in this wretched city. I need to show them to somebody for whom they might be…very interesting."

"Um, alright. May I have them? I mean, if I run into some Ifrit without you, I have no other way of defending myself."

"Sure, take them. But please don't read them. It's kind of important that Faustina's seal remains unbroken. That is, until this folder reaches the person it's intended for."

Philippa nodded and pocketed the documents.

Well, well, looks like we have an enemy! I hope nobody feels offended now. These guys aren't a metaphor for radical Islam. I rather thought of Nazis, really. Or the kkk. Right now, they appear pretty lame for villains, but they'll get more interesting as the story progresses. And, well, nothing, not even a villain that's a vengeful piece of toast, can be more lame than Rashleigh Khan.

Whoever is this superimportant letter for? First one to guess it gets an internet cookie!