So... you've been keeping pretty quiet. Is anyone even reading this anymore?

Anyway, many thanks to anjumstar as usual for her awesomeness.

Chapter 14

far too deep for bandage

Piper

"Hey," Piper called from the door, the gap only wide enough to fit her head. "Is it okay if I come in?"

A grunt came from under the covers.

Piper took that as an affirmative and got in, softly closing the door behind her. The room was still in a bit of disarray, with the boxes all opened and left in random places around the bed, clothes spilling out from the flaps and books on the floor. Kitty had hung a few tunics and dresses in the wardrobe and left it open, an unfinished task.

Piper stood in the middle of the room, unsure of how to proceed. Before leaving, Sam had simply told them that Kitty's parents had passed away and provided no further details. Not one of them had known Kitty had even been in contact with them. Nathaniel had shared that Kitty's parents had disowned her after he had come to their house to arrest her for being part of the Resistance. Bartimaeus had claimed to be as clueless about Kitty's current relationship with her parents.

Piper had been unaware of all of that. All of it. And she'd begun to think of Kitty as a friend. But the worst of all was that Piper had been a bit of an arse to Kitty the night before, after Kitty had been through an undoubtedly traumatising experience and needed comfort more than anything.

Well, she couldn't take her words back, but she could try to help now.

Piper made her way to the bed and sat beside the large bump. "I'm really sorry, Kitty. For what happened to your parents, and for my behaviour last night."

There was no response.

"If there is anything I can do to make this easier for you, anything at all…"

The bump moved slightly, deliberately. After some shuffling, Kitty's puffy face emerged from beneath the covers. She wasn't crying anymore, but her eyes were still red-rimmed.

"'S fine," she said nasally. "Thanks. I know you were worried."

"I'm still worried," Piper said, readjusting herself on the bed to give Kitty more room to wiggle out from beneath the covers.

"Yeah, well…" Kitty sat up against the headboard and shoved her hair out of her face. "I don't know what to tell you."

She hadn't meant it as a jab, Piper could tell. Her voice was too soft and tired. "Were you close?"

It was a question as much for Kitty's benefit as it was for her own. Piper didn't know anyone who was close to their parents, and so she couldn't exactly understand this grief when she didn't have any memories of her own parents. No, the only memory she had from before being sent to her master was that of a vast mudflat with dozens of sandpipers skipping and chirping about, the back of an old, rough hand in hers, the horizon swallowing the sun.

"Not anymore," Kitty replied, not looking at her. "They told you what happened?"

"Your parents disowned you," Piper stated.

"That's right." Kitty nodded, her eyes glazed over as she relived that moment. "They'd rather blindly follow their corrupt government than to stand by their daughter."

Kitty laughed bitterly and Piper shifted on the bed, feeling out of her depth. That had been the exact kind of behaviour the previous government had encouraged. Piper hadn't exactly opposed it then, and she wasn't sure if she would have, hadn't recent events made this practice so blatantly obvious. Then she wondered if this would still happen while she remained their leader. And what would happen when they chose a new prime minister? Or when someone else came to take it from her?

"I went looking for them regardless," Kitty continued, bursting Piper's bubble of mounting anxiety. "Pretty foolish of me, huh?"

"I hardly think so," Piper said immediately, having interpreted the disdain in Kitty's voice for hurt and self-hate. She knew those two very well, after all. Piper found Kitty's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "It means you're good, Kitty. Good and brave, although a little misguided sometimes, like when you decide to terrorise an entire city because it failed to take care of you like it should have."

Kitty giggled faintly, but the bitterness was gone. Her eyes were averted, a little vulnerable, but she squeezed her hand back in appreciation. "I wanted to rub it in their faces," Kitty muttered. It was such a foreign sound coming out of her mouth. "I wanted them to see how wrong they'd been to abandon me. I wanted them to beg for my forgiveness, to just grovel until I'd had enough. And then I could have the time to decide if I wanted to forgive them and have them back in my life. I thought I had time."

Piper said nothing, allowing the words to wash over them. The fact that Kitty had chosen to share this with Piper was nearly overwhelming. The only appropriate response was to pull Kitty into a hug. Piper wanted to hold Kitty until the cracks in her heart had no choice but to be glued back together.

It was with a heavy heart that Piper left for the airport that afternoon.

She arrived at the Heathrow Airport half an hour before departure, in her best black suit, with Amare and Ezekiel as two lionesses flanking her on each side, and an entourage of four personal guards in diamond formation. The pilot and co-pilot greeted them by the aircraft, a humongous grey ship with two sets of propellers provided by the Royal Air Force, while flight technicians finished checking that it was ready for take-off.

There were some words exchanged about in-flight protocol, the resources the aircraft carried, which included blood bags for each blood type of the people on board, and security measures should they need to abort. Piper knew all of this by heart; she'd spent the past two weeks in meeting after meeting for this very moment. But it was reassuring to have her security detail with her and an experienced crew on her side, along with a highly trained and cleared physician who had served in the war, and a diplomat Piper had handpicked from the group that had helped them negotiate the new peace treaty. As much as she disliked being shadowed and fussed over whenever she was trying to work, this time she was deeply grateful for it.

Piper had never flown before. She discovered that while she wasn't a fan of the departure process, she loved being up in the air. Yes, even in spite of the anxiety knotting her stomach and speeding her heart. The buildings and the streets getting tinier and tinier as they lifted off the ground, the ocean glistening below them, the sun setting cotton-candy clouds on fire.

It was pure magic.

"Madam Prime Minister," said a rough voice—Marcus, Head of Security, and also the burliest out of the four, "you should sleep while you can. It's going to be a long flight."

"Thank you, Marcus, but there is a lot to be done before we arrive. I can sleep when all of this is over."

Piper thought she detected a hint of surprise and admiration in his dark eyes. Marcus had been part of Devereaux's security, luckily on vacation on the date that had forever changed London. Did Marcus feel guilty or relieved that he hadn't been with Devereaux then? She also wondered if he often drew up comparisons between her and Devereaux, and if so, how inadequate and inexperienced he found her.

Marcus said nothing else.

Piper made good on her word and opened her suitcase, grabbing a dossier compiled by her team and a pencil before noticing the more comfortable clothes she had packed for the flight. Ignoring them for the moment, she got to work. It was quiet, the only sounds coming from the engine and muffled talking from the pilot cabin, an occasional page being turned as Piper kept working and Marcus read a book on Thai cuisine. Two of the other three members of her human security were resting, as were the physician and the diplomat, and the third guard should be in the pilot cabin.

Curled up on a seat by the opposite window were Ezekiel and Amare in the guise of two Siamese cats. The sight caused Romeo's annoyingly handsome face to resurface in her mind, reminding her of what he'd had to say about spirits and their similarities with other living beings, with humans. And then Piper remembered his invitation for coffee.

Annoyed with herself, Piper did her best to dismiss it and returned to her work.

She had a long flight ahead of her.

Bartimaeus

At twenty-two hundred hours on the dot, Kitty and I were loitering outside an old pub in Chiswick that went by the name of Rotten Bones. And never had I seen such an appropriately named establishment. The walls outside had been stained by acid rain and sewage discharge, and the plastic tables had been yellowed by use and all had at least one faulty leg—bent at the wrong angle or simply too short. Through dusty windows one could make out a tiny space with hardwood floor and whitewashed walls. There were chairs stuck together, with people from different tables sitting practically back-to-back and smoking up a cloud that made the place look hazy and uninviting.

Well, I was a fan of honest marketing, at the very least. That was the key to good branding, if you asked me—say the truth and rejoice as the right clientele flocks in. In this case, it consisted mostly of greasy-haired fellows who masked lack of showering with copious amount of cologne and had a penchant for clothes so tight they left little to the imagination. (1) Kitty and I were overdressed in our ripped jeans and old band t-shirts, military boots and leather jackets.

(1) And rest assured—you wouldn't need my talents to make out the details.

I discreetly and fruitlessly scratched at an inch just below my ribcage. Frustrated at the lack of results, I pulled out a palm-sized notebook from my purse and scribbled on it with a pencil. I had nicked the supplies from Nathaniel's library, but that was irrelevant—I had shopping to do regardless. (2)

(2) See here another example of how sharing a mind with that neat freak has impaired my ability to think straight.

"What are you doing?" the peroxide blonde beside me asked, frowning down at the page. Kitty had been pressed against my side for warmth and sneezing ever so often. I had tolerated it so far, even warmed the air around us a little. This was what I got after telling her she'd be cold and to bring a coat.

"Adding crotch number twenty-one to the list of things I'll need to erase from my mind once we're done here. Say, do you think Johnny-boy has bleach at home? Never tested it, but it should be enough to induce amnesia in djinn."

She rolled her hazel eyes at me. If you looked closely, you could see the thin bluish line of the contact on each eye. But then a man wearing a deep V-cut rushed by to get to his mates, glorious curly chest hair out for all the world to see.

"How about we share a bottle?"

"Wiser if it's two."

"Touché."

Kitty went inside to get a beer and I waited, perched against the pub's cold granite wall, making sure to produce puffs of vapor at appropriate intervals so as not to alienate the small crowd gathered outside. Not that I thought anyone would have noticed. The stench of alcohol and pot was almost as bad as standing beside Jabor on any given day.

I made it a point to stay focused on stakeouts—it was a connoisseur's rule, a way of life, a motto. After all, you never knew when danger would be lurking nearby, or who might prove to be of more interest than you were first expecting. It was important to keep close tabs on as many people as possible while remaining inconspicuous. Naturally, it was a task well suited for my talents.

And to think Nathaniel had wanted Shubit to tag along. Ha! Imagine that. I'd never seen that snobby overachiever even try to use a human guise. Chances were he'd produce a washed-out version that would stand out amongst this crowd, forget to breathe, use the wrong accent to go with the character. Need I go on? No, afrits weren't suited for stealth at all; they were too thick-headed and impulsive.

Which were attributes one could apparently slap on the forehead of Came-Back-From-The-Dead Nathaniel. There he was, prancing about like he'd accomplished this spectacular feat and like he wasn't being pinned to the floor every morning during physio-slash-self-defence. Somehow resurrection had stripped away most of his caution and common sense, and he seemed to think that Shubit had any such regard for him that he wouldn't try to seize any opportunity to at least set himself free. We'd all been conditioned to do just that, and Nathaniel, of course, had to think that he was different.

But that was just fine. It was Nathaniel's neck on the line, so who cared? I had come to this pub with an inspired name in order to help Kitty and to get back on the path of finding that bastard Asmodeus.

"No sign of an ambush yet?"

I started and began summoning a Detonation, stopping a sweeping motion a hair's breadth away from Kitty's nose. Her expression was now as startled as mine. Then she pushed me with her hip, and we disappeared back into the crowd and away from the prying gazes.

Ah, it was easy to empathise with canned tuna every time I was forced into a crowd.

Only when we were at the edge of the group—having been pushed back against a red-bricked building that was pulsing with the sound of the bass—did I notice that Kitty had two bottles of beer gripped between the fingers of one hand and a packet of cigarettes in the other.

She noticed my disgusted stare. "Relax, Roxanne, they're for me. Here, take a beer."

"I thought I said no Roxanne." I pretended to take a sip. "This is dreadful."

"Your name's fine, Roxanne. You need to stop blaming your parents for it."

"Pete's sake," I muttered under my breath. "Stop giving me a background."

"Someone has to." Kitty put a cigarette in her mouth and grinned around it. The butt was already smeared with lipstick the colour of rust. And then she began coughing, followed by a violent sneeze. I rolled my eyes and patted her back. Humans. Honestly, you give them a little kick to the head and let them out in the rain to get a much-needed washing, and this is what you get instead.

"Anyway," she said once she'd recovered, "I talked to the bartender, and he told me they were closing at midnight tonight. 'Family matters,' he said." Kitty raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

I grinned. "Always bad for business."

After a moment's pause, which Kitty used to light up and drink her beer, she said, "Any hybrid friends lurking about?"

"Not that I've noticed—must you really smoke? You're getting it all over my es—clothes. These are my favourite clothes."

Kitty's grin was toothy and amused. She blew the smoke away from me, but the wind directed it back to my face. "I'm not enjoying this either. Haven't done it in a while and now I remember why. But we can't be the only ones not smoking."

That was some warped logic at best, but I decided not to comment on it. Going on tangents about humans' odd vices only tended to get them talking for longer than thirty seconds, and that was just such a cumbersome thing to do.

The minutes passed by slowly, with Kitty drinking her beer and I pretending to. The crowd outside Rotten Bones thinned as midnight approached, talks of relocating to the pub right next to it or to a pub closer to London reaching my ears as they went. I had been listening in on many a conversation during this time of silence between Kitty and I, all very dull (3) and not at all what Kitty and I were hoping for.

(3) There was a group discussing football strategies and whose fault it was that the last game had been a bust. There was another rhapsodizing about the fine art of craft beer. And there was yet another discussing who had it worst at work. I would have loved to join that last conversation.

"Do you think they'll come in through the back?" Kitty asked, scooting closer again.

I rolled my eyes and turned up the temperature a few notches. "Possible. Did no one inside match the description you got from that mysterious friend?"

Kitty gave me an unimpressed look. "I'm still not going to tell you their name, Roxanne. But no, not that I saw. Though he could have gone to use the loo. Or slipped inside after me."

"Not through the front door, he didn't." I clicked my tongue. "But remind me again what the description said."

"Male, average height and weight, possibly in his forties, brown hair and brown eyes. He had a beard when he approached my friend, no moustache, but that's easily remedied, if he wanted to remain inconspicuous. Bushy eyebrows, crooked nose, very pale—"

"If that last one doesn't describe every British white man—"

"My friend also said he had a southern accent and smelled like cigarettes."

"We could have you ask around for a lighter."

"I've just bought one. Even if no one else saw, why wouldn't I buy another?"

"Why would anyone buy another when they could get it for free?"

Kitty sighed. "Fine, but I'm still not going to do it."

"Alright, so should we pretend one of us is drunk?"

Kitty wrinkled her nose at the idea. "If we cause too much of a spectacle, we'll be easily recognisable. It's highly likely that some of the people who'll attend the meeting are already here."

"Fair point. Any ideas?"

"We could just try the back once everyone else starts to move. When I was inside, I didn't notice anything that could serve as a secret location. Then again, I didn't try the loo. There could be a secret door there, or the meeting could be in the server's changing rooms?"

I pondered this for a minute in silence, watching dispassionately as a woman shouted at another woman for spilling something on her clothes. "Do you reckon it's that small a group?"

"Well, they were reaching out to my friend, so maybe?"

"You know how these things go—the more, the merrier."

Kitty have me an incredulous look. "I do know how these things go, and it's never like that."

"Hey, your experience is only one viable option. These people aren't exactly hiding. Your interim government is just too busy and going after commoners now would only look bad."

"They're not being very public either," grumbled Kitty. "Hey—look. There's a group moving down the alley. Maybe they're going towards the back. Let's go."

And pulling on my jacket, she followed them, wedging between other groups of people who were lingering in spite of the bar's closing time. And then an odd thing happened.

Kitty's entire demeanour changed before my very eyes. She rolled back her shoulders and tilted her chin upwards as she adjusted her walk from nearly a stomp to something akin to gracious. Lastly, she painted an easy smile on her face.

I blinked at her, wondering whether she'd come back from the Other Place as pure essence and somehow taken a crash course on sculpture. (4) "So you could do this all the time and choose not to?"

(4) I won't soon forget the sight of her back in the Other Place. When you hit five thousand, it is inevitable that you've seen things over the years. Which I have, and many. But then Kitty showed up, bobbing around like a forlorn avant-garde creation you lot are so fond of these days.

"I don't appreciate your tone," she told me with a side-glance. "This doesn't feel comfortable, thank you very much. But I'm enduring it because I know we're on a mission. I'm sure you are enduring some things as well."

Almost as if nudged by her words, my side started itching again. I crossed my arms over my chest and used my index to scratch at it. At the moment, it was the best I could do to make it less suspicious, even if I was unaware whether the people at the meeting would know this little detail about spirits.

Ahead of us, the group we were tailing had joined a larger group consisting of about fifteen people. The mood here was a distinct contrast with that of the pub we'd just left—sombre and resolute. There was no laughter or playful nudges, no cigarettes or beer; fortunately, there were no obvious crotches either. The people were being ushered in through a door partly hidden by a half wall and rubbish bins.

Kitty and I walked as confidently as possible to give off the idea that we belonged. We received a few curious glances from the people outside, but soon they blinked away, very much disinterested. I smirked and winked at Kitty, who rolled her eyes.

Guarding the door was a young, scruffy blonde who kept cleaning his dripping nose on the sleeve of a wool sweater. I was infinitely glad Kitty had refrained from doing so all evening. Still, I'd wager someone had told him to bring a coat too, and that he obviously hadn't listened. The sniffly bloke was talking to a pair of robust gentlemen, who laughed, patted him on the shoulder and entered.

A long, bare-walled corridor waited on the other side of the door, running into what seemed to be a dead end. However, the gentlemen turned left, and I heard their shoes tapping against wood as their shapes disappeared. Right. The meeting was in a secret cave. Typical.

We approached next. Under the lamplight, the sniveller looked younger than I'd assumed, freshly eighteen, perhaps, with a few pubic hair-like stragglers sprouting from his jaw. Certainly nothing to be proud of. He looked as yellow as the bricks behind him too, and even though I couldn't catch anything he was carrying, I took an involuntary step back.

Kitty's hand snapped to my wrist. I had been so distracted that I hadn't noticed there were people behind us now. Not daring to look back and ruin the pretence, I discerned three different voices animatedly whispering among each other about the new meeting and what their next step would be. There was something about an event as well, but it was fleeting.

That was all the confirmation I needed. I shared a furtive glance with Kitty, whose face betrayed nothing. Such wasted talent.

"Oi, Peter! Close that blasted door! It's getting cold as balls in here!"

Peter did, mumbling something about it being five seconds, and whose fault was it anyway they had to go through all the trouble. Peter was probably right too. I smiled in silent comradery.

Kitty said, "Won't keep you long. It is freezing tonight."

Right. Said the girl wearing only a leather jacket and fighting not to let her teeth clatter. Though I supposed I looked as suspicious by seeming so unaffected by the cold. I immediately hunched my posture a little, hugging my arms around frame. For good measure, I double checked that my guise extended all the way to the sixth plane.

"Names, please," Peter said.

"Like you don't know us, Pete," I told him, winking. The things I was forced to do, I tell you.

A frown began to form on his face, but it soon melted into a playful expression. The plan had been to convince Peter he'd got our names and accepted them, but with at least three people standing behind us—as distracted as they sounded—that seemed unlikely.

"Course I do," Peter said. "I'm just messing around."

Well, better than I'd expected, which was pitiful for Peter, really. Being so easily controlled, even if by a much superior being, was likely to leave a sour taste in one's mouth. (4)

(4) Or so I hear. Personally, I've never felt the need to recreate the sensation.

Before we knew it, Kitty and I were climbing down a wide staircase that lead to a carpeted open space with two billiard tables pushed to the side and a mahogany bar tucked in a corner. Covering the stone walls were pictures of countless men and some women in military uniform, smiling proudly at the camera. In the centre of the room was a group of around forty people, some sitting and some standing, but all inconspicuously dressed in neutral colours and baggy clothing. There was a man in their middle speaking passionately about commoners' wages compared to magicians'.

The group was so enraptured in his speech that no one noticed as Kitty and I entered the room, opting to sit down in two free chairs in the back to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible. The three people who had been standing behind us came in next—two men and a woman—and they immediately made their way over to the bar.

"Do you see him?" Kitty whispered.

I scanned the room, looking for someone who would fit the description. "No," I told her. "But that isn't exactly why we're here, is it? It appears your other friend was right after all."

"So it does," Kitty agreed tightly. "And no hybrids?"

"Oddly, no. But no celebratory beer for me, thank you."

Kitty shook her head at me. Then I properly looked at her to see how she was taking all of this. Just like everyone else in the room, she was listening attentively to the speech. I supposed she felt her loyalties were a bit divided here, which was maybe why she'd hesitated in telling anyone about this until it became absolutely necessary. Now Kitty Jones was probably a traitor to these people, even though her actions had resulted in granting them more freedom.

Needless to say, I could sympathise.

Soon there was a round of applause, which Kitty and I joined in.

"What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," I said. "You look like you agree."

"Well, don't you?" Kitty crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I'll bet you anything that not a single commoner makes the same as the lowest-paid magician in the government. And I doubt it's much different anywhere else. How do you think it makes me feel to know I've supported this step, and nothing came off it?"

"Nothing came off it?" I echoed, more than a little surprised. "A mixed government wasn't in anyone's plans. Now, I can't give you all the credit for making that happen, but you sure kept the door wide open to make it possible."

Kitty shrugged, mollified. "Not good enough."

I studied the room carefully again, taking note of where everyone was and checking that there were no suspicious movements and that we weren't getting any attention. A woman got up to talk about the war in North America, and how insulting it was that their soldiers hadn't returned yet to the vocal agreement of the entire group. She was moving on to her own sons' conscription when I deemed it safe to turn to Kitty again.

"Look, Jones, I told you this when you summoned me all the way back then, and I'll say it again: change takes time. I told you it'd take fifty years to overthrow your corrupt government and for this Empire to fall. You proved me wrong, but there were also unexpected circumstances.

"No one can predict what the next five years will be like—honestly, no one can predict how this next year will be like. There are treaties being signed and political unrest everyone, including in this very glorified cave. Do I think your government is doing enough? Absolutely not. Do I think that this time there are more well-intentioned people behind it? Also not."

"I thought this was going in a different direction," she mumbled.

"The point is," I stressed, "your leader is. She's on a plane over the bloody ocean right now to fix something that had gone on for too long the moment it started. Now, you have to decide what your next move is, because the Kitty Jones I know wouldn't be happy cleaning dishes at a bakery when the world is still on fire."

A pause. Kitty stared at me, lips set in a tight line and eyebrows pressed together in concentration. The speaker was applauded off the figurative stage and there were whispers about who would be next and when they'd get to planning their big move.

"Do you always have a speech prepared for these situations?" Kitty asked, face breaking into a small, tired smile.

"It's all talent," I humbly admitted. "Plus, over 5,000 years of honing these skills. Listen," I bore my eyes into hers, so she knew to pay attention, "your parents are no measure for your success, alright? You are. Or do you think I go around befriending every human who has the audacity to summon me?"

"Shut up," she said tightly and sniffled. I pretended not to notice as she dabbed at her eyes. Due to the nature of the last speech, Kitty hardly seemed out of place. "We're on a mission, Roxanne. You need to focus."

I gave her the side-eye glare, but decided not to comment on it. She might start bawling next, and how would you explain that?

To the right, the group was shifting. I noticed that the trio that had been by the bar had joined the rest of the group, standing back to the side against one of the billiard tables. Except now it was a duo. One of the men was gone.

I mentally cursed. This was all Kitty's fault, distracting me with her human worries. As the crowd parted for the next speaker, I shifted in my chair as unsuspiciously as possible to search for the third member.

And then there he was—he was the next speaker. There were bells ringing in my mind, neon flashes exploding, a chorus of angels hitting a perfect major chord.

"Oh my god," Kitty gasped.

Middle-aged and plain-looking, heavy eyebrows and crooked nose. And then he opened his mouth to speak.

"It's—"

"I know," I whispered. "We found your friend's tormentor."

"No, you don't understand." She gulped. "That's George Fox. That's my former boss."

Nathaniel

"That is, indeed, quite powerful magic," said the grizzly bear next to him.

Nathaniel tried to wrap his coat even tighter around himself as the wind picked up again. The Thames angrily splashed at the rocks and the bridge, twinkling with the lights from the buildings on the opposite riverbank. The grey skies seemed to gradually fill up with clouds, swallowing up all the moonlight and starlight that dared try to pass through. To their right, London Bridge stretched over the river, sleek and silvery.

Nathaniel's car had dropped them off by Southwark Cathedral. From there, Nathaniel and Shubit had walked to London Bridge, following Shubit's acutely tuned magic sensor. So far, Shubit hadn't been able to tell him what was giving off this magical energy, but he seemed intrigued.

"Water isn't getting in," Nathaniel pointed out.

"That it isn't," Shubit agreed as they squinted down at a small oval indentation on the rock where the bridge's foundation sat.

It was funny how Nathaniel had never noticed how little this foundation of London Bridge seemed to have deteriorated when the northern side and the box girders needed engineers improving and stabilising it every so often. Well, he supposed he had been preoccupied with other things then.

Nathaniel picked up a pebble and threw it at the opening, missing it by a large margin. The pebble dropped into the water with a pathetic little splash as the two of them stood there like a sad tourist duo. In that moment, Nathaniel was very glad Bartimaeus wasn't there to witness that.

The bear frowned. "Did you have something in mind?"

"I wanted to see if there was a Shield of some sort in place," Nathaniel replied.

"Ah."

"Maybe you'll have better aim." Nathaniel offered Shubit another pebble, trying not to show how winded he still got from simply doubling over.

Shubit took it from him, and another pebble was wasted on their efforts. Nathaniel blinked up at Shubit, expecting this level of incompetence from Bartimaeus but not from such a powerful and efficient afrit. For his part, Shubit looked ashamed and tense.

Nathaniel frowned. Did Shubit think Nathaniel would punish him for failing to hit a tiny target on a rock in the middle of the night?

Well, of course he did. If Nathaniel was certain of one thing, it was that he would have never done such a thing. Not back then and certainly not now. What had Jessica Whitwell's punishments been like, and what had she deemed punishable?

"Well, I was wondering what you'd be bad at," Nathaniel said with a lilt of awkward laughter in his voice.

Shubit visibly relaxed. "Maybe I should get down there?"

"If you don't mind," Nathaniel said.

Shubit bowed his head a little, and—was that a smile? There was no way of telling now, for Shubit quickly grew a pair of bat wings and shot up. The resulting wind slashed at Nathaniel, who bent his knees so as not to get thrown off balance. His hair was an absolute mess when the wind subsided, and again Nathaniel thought that it was a good thing Bartimaeus hadn't come after all.

Ignoring the churn in his stomach, Nathaniel walked to the edge. He leaned over the wall carefully to watch as the winged bear examined the indentation. Shubit tried a few attacks, all of which ricocheted or were absorbed. If that was a Shield, it was an unusual one.

And very powerful too, Nathaniel noted as Shubit increased the potency of his attacks, flashes of green, orange, and blue obvious as fireworks in the dark. He cursed himself for not having told Shubit to be discreet.

Nathaniel rocked on his feet to keep them warm, but also for lack of a better thing to do. He wondered if Kitty and Bartimaeus were having better luck than him and Shubit. And then he wondered how Kitty had even managed to collect herself and keep going after the news she'd received. They'd barely spoken since then, and Kitty had kept the conversations to their respective missions. Still, she'd looked a little sick to Nathaniel when they'd left earlier that evening. And shouldn't she have stayed in bed after having been hit on the head? Nathaniel knew Bartimaeus would look out for her, but…

But it didn't mean he'd have to like it, did it? He didn't like that either of them was out there, possibly getting in danger. And here came the hard part. Nathaniel didn't want Bartimaeus to get in danger. Kitty went without saying, of course. They'd grown close and somehow that had erased any sort of fascination that had overcome him during the—Well. Maybe he had got carried away by the urgency of the situation.

Nathaniel knew deep-down that he'd never wanted Bartimaeus to get hurt, but now that he'd experienced pain through Bartimaeus's eyes, it felt different. Besides, there was the whole Ptolemy situation, which had made him feel oddly protective of Bartimaeus. And that was something Nathaniel didn't want to think about and yet his mind didn't seem to care about his wishes.

To further prove its point, Nathaniel's mind echoed Kitty's words back to him, along with the moment when Bartimaeus had found him on the floor of the library. How had it all gone so wrong so fast? He'd only been trying to help, and he thought Bartimaeus would see that. But the look on Bartimaeus's face when Nathaniel had told him about Shubit reminded him of the cool looks of indifference from before the—

Nathaniel pressed his freezing fingers to his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling on the count of four, like Sam had taught him. Don't think about it, he inwardly chanted so many times he lost count, but he kept at it until the images were purged from his brain.

He concentrated on what he knew: Bartimaeus was angry, and Nathaniel didn't like that, so he should apologise. But this was not simply a matter of Nathaniel having messed up this once. He'd kept Bartimaeus on Earth for years, forced him to do his bidding, and now he was still taking advantage of Bartimaeus, albeit indirectly. And yes, he was trying to do better by other spirits, but Bartimaeus wasn't getting the same treatment. On the other hand, Nathaniel simply refused to summon him again, so he couldn't offer the same conditions to Bartimaeus, which meant…

Which meant that he needed to be decent to Bartimaeus and do what he ultimately wanted: be sent home. Permanently. Nathaniel needed to convince Kitty he would be fine without Bartimaeus's help.

Essentially, Nathaniel had to ensure Bartimaeus stayed in the Other Place forever.

The churn in his stomach deepened. Frustrated with his overreaction at his own decision, Nathaniel picked a handful of pebbles, aimed, and started throwing with all his might. Shubit looked up at him and got out of the way, shooting experimental attacks from a safer distance.

And then, to their mutual surprise, a pebble hit the barrier and ricocheted, flying right back at Nathaniel. He jumped to catch it and then screamed and dropped it. Shubit was at his side in the span of a blink, finding Nathaniel doubled over with his hand stuck between his knees, a litany of curses pouring out of his mouth.

"That's. Fucking. Hot!"

Shubit picked up the pebble, looking amused. "Do you want me to get you to the river so you can put your hand in the water?"

Nathaniel ground his teeth to keep his mouth from unleashing another round. "No, that's fine. I'll take care of it when I'm home," Nathaniel hissed. After some more cursing and pacing around shaking his burnt hand, he added in a strained voice, "It's a Seal, do you reckon?"

"Probably, but I've never seen anything quite like it." Shubit considered the offending pebble. "There's something engraved on the rock. Look."

Nathaniel approached Shubit, but didn't take the pebble from him. There were what appeared to be deformed circles inscribed in a larger circle.

"Could you enlarge it?"

"I can, but the quality won't improve."

"That's fine, just do it."

Shubit obeyed, making the pebble as big as his paw. He also had the good sense to produce a small flame, keeping it away from Nathaniel's face. Tracing the outline of an inner circle with a claw, Shubit asked, "Does this look familiar to you?"

"Yes and no," Nathaniel said, frowning, squeezing his brain for an answer. "I feel like I've seen that somewhere before. I just don't know where and when. But it's also an odd symbol. Why are there so many circles inside a larger circle?"

"It's possible they are shields," Shubit said. He extended his arm further so Nathaniel could examine it better. "Look how they thin out towards the centre."

"They look more like eggs to me," protested Nathaniel, increasingly frustrated with the rock. "What else have you found down there?"

"Nothing much. Potent protective magic. If it's a Seal, it won't budge to any of my attacks or attempts at breaking it. I was unable to further identify it, but it seems very old."

"That's odd," Nathaniel whispered. "If it's old, it's stayed unnoticed for a while now. How could that be, with so many magicians walking by quite often? And with so many spirits roaming around the city?"

Shubit shrugged, putting the pebble in Nathaniel's good hand. It wasn't hot anymore. "Maybe something dislodged the rock covering it, or maybe it was dormant, and a magical attack activated it. Or maybe the spirits simply didn't take an interest in it, or didn't feel like sharing it with their masters, thinking it'd be more work for them."

Well, that was a solid point. Nathaniel considered the rock in his hand, lips drawn in a line. There was something itching in the back of his mind, tugging at his memory. He had a few books in his library on symbology and many on different types of protective magic, but he didn't want to draw his attention away from his most recent project. Especially not when Shubit was there, willing and waiting to aid him in putting an end to the hybrid mess.

"I think we should call it a night. Bartimaeus and Kitty probably have returned already as well," Nathaniel said at last. "Thank you, Shubit, your help was invaluable tonight. I realise I asked you for something outside of our agreement, so if I can do anything else in return."

The bear blinked, taken aback. "Oh, that's… I'll have to think about it. But for now, it's alright. I enjoy a good mystery."

Nathaniel smiled. "That makes two of us."