Disclaimer: The Bartimaeus Trilogy is the property of Jonathan Stroud

A/N: I'm back! Thank you Christmas holidays for finally giving me some time to spare for writing. I hope you guys enjoy this story. Many thanks to Lady Noir, my fantastic beta, for editing this chapter. Happy Reading!

There was no moon, the night of Kitty Jones' murder.

The street was swathed in a darkness broken only by the hazy glow of an occasional streetlamp. A weedy string of Christmas lights drooped from the neighbors' rain gutter in half-hearted acknowledgement of the festive season. The only sound was the soft whirl of the wind as large wet snowflakes wheeled between pools of light before dropping to the slushy pavement.

Tucked safely away from the cold and dark, Kitty was seated comfortably on the bare wooden floor of her study; a mug of steaming hot-chocolate in one hand, a stick of chalk in the other. Her dark eyebrows knotted in concentration as she pressed the tip of the chalk firmly against the smooth floor and drew it across the wooden surface in one long, even, stroke. With a critical eye, she evaluated the thick white line she had created, then, with a nod of approval, continued.

Another line of white chalk joined the first, and soon another, and another. Soft, curving lines formed the circumference of a wide circle; small, delicate lines tangled into spidery runes; bold, straight lines inscribed the star-shaped core of the figure itself – a perfectly executed pentacle.

Kitty rubbed the dust from her palms and stepped back to survey her handiwork. Not bad, especially since the benign attitude of the creature she was summoning would have, for most anyone else, been an ample excuse to slack off on the finer points of pentacle-crafting. Not that Bartimaeus was exactly benign when any master other than herself was concerned.

Kitty half considered testing out her creation early and summoning him up right that second – these days, she spent so much of her time with the djinni that even the brief absences when he recovered in the other place made her feel isolated and pathetically eager to see him again; and even if that wasn't so, it was still rather depressing to be alone on Christmas Eve.

She took a thoughtful sip of hot-chocolate and tapped one slippered foot against the floor. No, she decided, as much as she was inclined to bring the djinni back to Earth, she couldn't deprive him of his rest. They had already agreed that she would summon him Christmas Day. That way, she would have someone to spend the holiday with, and he could be introduced to the marvels of British Christmas traditions – which he, of course, was so very eager to experience.

Just as well, she supposed. She'd have to go to sleep at some point tonight, and if she left him unsupervised, he'd probably get bored and start breaking things.

She took one last longing glance at the expectant pentacle before exiting the study. The door clicked softly as she shut it behind her.

Exactly two hours later she went to bed, unaware of the eyes that watched the light from her window fade to darkness.

Across the street, the assassins clustered in the shadows cast by the awning of an empty fish shop. As the window darkened, the leader gestured silently with one black-gloved hand. In perfect harmony, five of their number slipped silently from their concealment and slid from shadow to shadow, creeping towards the small brick house on the other side of the street.

One-by-one, they scaled up the shear surface of the wall like large, black, spiders scuttling up a fence post. The first pulled himself up onto the sloping roof and looked out over the street. The city lay in a deep slumber, anticipating the dawn. Silent and empty – save for the handful of dark figures that still lingered beneath the awning. It was time.

In the cool darkness of her room, Kitty was startled awake by a high-pitched wail. Her eyes flew open as she recognized the sound – the security alarm. The defense Nexus had been breached. She bolted out of bed and hurried down the stairs.

She shivered apprehensively as she entered the empty living room. The ornaments of the small artificial Christmas tree on the side table glimmered in the faint light from the window, and the sole stocking hanging from the mantle flapped gently back and forth, as if in a breeze. Frowning in puzzlement, Kitty crept closer.

Suddenly there was a faint scrambling sound from above, as if a bat were trapped in the chimney. Kitty choked back a scream as something – someone dropped down in a cloud of ash and landed in the fireplace with the tense grace of a cat.

What's going on? Her mind demanded as her feet carried her from the room. In a moment of panic she paused in the hallway, eyes darting frantically back and forth. She needed a weapon against the intruder. Yes, there – in the kitchen.

She darted into the kitchen and pulled open the nearest drawer. She rummaged through it, tossing spoons and spatulas over her shoulder – where were the knives? She pulled open the next drawer. Too late.

The black clad assassin tackled her to the ground, slamming her hard against the tiled floor. Kitty gazed up wide-eyed into the face of her attacker, not recognizing the cold blue eyes that peered out of the narrow eye-slits of his mask. Gloved hands wrapped around her neck, the rough leather chafing the vulnerable skin of her throat. Gritting her teeth, Kitty reached for the man's belt. Her fingers wrapped tentatively around the rubber handle of the knife resting in its sheath. She slid it out silently as the assassin's grip tightened. With a sympathetic wince, she thrust it down into his exposed back.

The assassin shuddered and twitched. The fingers that dug into her skin went limp. Kitty sighed in relief and pushed the heavy body off of her.

Slowly she rose to her feet, keeping a wary eye on the motionless corpse. It was high time to call the police. She made to exit the room, only to come up short.

Another man stood in the doorway, dressed like the first. He grinned at her and twirled his blade lazily between his fingers.

Bartimaeus, where are you when I need you?She thought as the towering assassin stepped forwards, backing Kitty against the solid counter. If only she had summoned the djinni tonight!

The assassin moved closer, an ugly leer in his eyes. In a burst of instinctive self-preservation, Kitty snatched a heavy ceramic bowl from the countertop behind her and brought it down hard upon the assassin's head. The man crumpled beneath the blow, landing on the floor with a dull thud.

Kitty snatched up the knife, then leapt to her feet and raced from the room, not sparing a second glace for the corpses that lay cooling on her clean kitchen floor. From the living room she could faintly hear the scrambling sound of more people crawling down the chimney.

She made for the stairs, thinking of the pentacle in the study. If she could reach it in time she could summon Bartimaeus…

Kitty halted in her tracks. Another dark figure awaited her at the landing at the top of the stairs, carrying a blade longer than her arm. This one wore no gloves, and Kitty noticed the backs of his hands bore strange crisscrossed scars that seemed vaguely familiar. She glanced back over her shoulder. Two more assassins stood at the foot of the stairs, blocking her escape – she was trapped.

The man with the large blade lunged for her, swinging his sword in a shimmering arc. Kitty thrust out her knife; the two blades clashed with a sharp metallic ring. With a strength born of desperation, Kitty wrested the sword from her opponent's hands and sent it clattering down the steps. The assassin reached out, trying belatedly to snatch it back, and putting himself off-balance in the process. With a snarl, Kitty grabbed the man's shoulders and swung him around, sending him tumbling down the stairs after his sword.

Unfortunately, his other arm came around and latched on to the collar of her pajamas, pulling Kitty along with him.

They bounced down the stairs in a tangled knot of limbs, picking up speed and bowling over the two assassins that lurked below, knocking them clean off their feet.

Kitty sat up painfully and rubbed the back of her neck. Her spine was screaming and her pale arms were already darkening with bruises. The assassins lay still around her. Kitty gave them a suspicious glance. Two chests heaved up and down as their owners breathed slow, unconscious breaths. The third was still and pale. Kitty's small knife gleamed from its position wedged between his ribs, where it must have lodged itself during their fall.

One of his hands, she noticed, was clenched into a tight fist around a small vibrating globe. Too late, she recognized it for what it was – an activated Elemental Sphere. Get away! Her mind screamed, but before she could move more than a foot, the world was lost in an explosion of white heat. Her vision faltered and went black as waves of fire and earth and air washed over her.

Stay conscious Kitty.

Her body felt heavy and numb, her brain spun in useless circles. All she could hear was the deafening roar behind her ears, like an ocean wave crashing over her.

At last the confusion subsided, and Kitty's eyelids fluttered open. She found herself lying on her back, blurry eyes gazing up at the cracked ceiling. She felt almost detached from her body; as though she were inside it, yet not fully sharing in its experiences. In her dream-like state, she glanced down at her body, vaguely motivated by the need to assess the damage. Immediately she regretted it, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Kitty had seen her fair share of battles, and she knew with brutal certainty that if she didn't get to a hospital right away, she was going to die.

The walls shook as something exploded down the hall.

They've broken down the front door, she noted to herself. If she didn't do something right now, then this would be the end. She pushed herself up on her elbows, ignoring the protestations of her battered body. Gritting her teeth in firm resolve, she began pulling herself up the stairs, white-knuckled fingers grasping at the step above and dragging her unresponsive body further and further towards the study.

So close.

Firm footsteps echoed behind her. Kitty reached up, stretching a weary arm towards the doorknob. The door swung open, and Kitty dragged herself inside.

She flopped down in the center of the waiting pentacle she had drawn not two hours before. Her eyes closed as she took heaving breaths to steady herself. Then, with a shaky hand, she drew her palm across the chalk line, breaching the perimeter of the circle with a smear of sticky red. In a breathless voice, she began to chant.

The sound of muffled footsteps on the stairs, and a shout of discovery. Perhaps the assassins had caught the mutter of her voice as she spoke the backwards incantation. Her time was running out. A name passed her lips.

"Bartimaeus…"

She whispered it again, her voice growing faint as her life seeped away.

"Bartimaeus..."

Suddenly the door burst open. Black boots tromped across the shiny floor as assassins flooded the room. Kitty's voice was as soft as a prayer as, with her final breath, she completed the spell.

"Bartimaeus!"