Disclaimer: The Bartimaeus Trilogy is the property of Jonathan Stroud.

A/N: It's been a long time coming, but here's the final chapter. A big thanks to everyone who left a review last chapter: A Phrase Cuts These Lips, Elia's Moonscape, Owl-Eats-Waffles, Cheesey Goodness, Joeylejoker, Eru-Iggy-Is, SakuNaru-Chan, SilkenPetal, The Wineglass, belleoftheball31, Rekhyt, Nari, Darkangel8694, RenWrites, HP-GW-Shipper, Duchessa, x Aeris, Tane, and ObeliskX. I really appreciate hearing from you! This has been an incredibly fun story to write, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it! By the way, if you're interested in seening fanart of this story, take a look at the awesome fanart by Nari and SailorxStar – links are in my profile. Enjoy!

To my panicked eyes, Nathaniel's tiny smirk was looking decidedly carnivorous. I gulped and took a step back. A smooth, casual step – just enough to move out of lunging distance without making the retreat look too obvious. Nat was going to kill me. I was doomed. Already I could practically hear the gleeful hiss and crackle of the Shriveling Fire that awaited me. In a last flail of desperation I appealed to Kitty.

"Come on," I begged her, "I thought you were on my side here!"

Kitty shrugged, distinctly unconcerned about my impending future as a small and depressing mound of charcoal. "I was cheering for you," she said, "Until I got kidnapped, threatened, aggravated with a bunch of irritating plots and forced into a blind date with a gagged and bound man. If I have to sit through one more suggestive comment I'm going to have an aneurism. Sorry, Bartimaeus, but Nathaniel and I have decided that you need to be dealt with."

Another step back. This time a little less subtle.

"This is a shining example of what happens when a djinni is allowed to run rampant," Nathaniel said calmly, even as he cracked his knuckles in a very unfriendly manner.

"Just a whole lot of unpleasantness for everyone involved," Kitty added.

Why? Why did I ever think it would be a good idea to put the two of them together? It was like introducing a lion and a Bengal tiger – no matter how the bloodthirsty felines get on, at least one of the pair will ultimately maul you to death.

[1. I had learned this lesson the hard way in the Roman Colosseum during a trying stint serving an Aedile. I had tooth marks in my essence for weeks after that one…but on the other hand, the bonus bloodshed had made the evening a smashing success.]

They advanced on me. For each retreat I attempted there was a grim-faced step forward to match it. A few stumbling seconds and I found myself backed up against the wall with a cold steel doorknob pressed into the small of my back and nowhere to run. Nathaniel opened his mouth. Whether it was to recite a spell, give me a command, or just hurl a few choice insults, I never found out.

My sweaty palm slipped against the doorknob as I yanked open what appeared to be a humble broom closet. Without the slightest hesitation, I shoved Nathaniel and Kitty inside one-after-the-other and snapped down the lock.

The pair swore and bellowed at me, but with a set of convenient paper napkins stuffed down my ears, I was safe from comprehending any of Nathaniel's orders.

Finally safe, I slumped to the ground in a mound of boneless relief. My master plan had backfired spectacularly, but at least my head was still attached to my shoulders. So now what? Before me the closet door towered tall and mocking – a flimsy defense which wouldn't long hold back what had turned out to be my own personal prison riot. I gathered my wide-and-varied trains of thought and bent the entirety of my extensive intellect to considering my options.

The most tempting idea was to simply run, but without my master's permission I wouldn't be able to leave this plane. Eventually, [2. Though hopefully not before severe dehydration and boredom-induced hysteria set in…] some unsuspecting janitor would open the broom closet, at which point I could expect a house call from one extremely cheesed off Nathaniel.

Bargaining for their release seemed like a good plan, but the logistics of unlocking the door after having Nat break my summons were rather unfeasible and I doubted I could get him to go for it.

I was on the verge of considering whether I could get away with assuming Nat's identity and carrying on with life in his stead [3. Not likely. Nathaniel's day-to-day existence was so irredeemably dull that his houseplants routinely committed suicide from the futility of it all], when it suddenly hit me that it was altogether too quiet.

Cautiously, I tugged out my makeshift earplugs and listened hard. The frantic yelling had stopped, replaced by a low, quiet murmur that left me immediately suspicious.

Were they plotting something together? I tried to shrug off my apprehensions. The closet door was sturdy and no matter how they schemed, there wasn't much they could do to get out. Though it occurred to me that the closet was very small, and probably rather dark…and Nat and Kitty were being awfully quiet. Suspiciously quiet, as though they'd found something else to do in that enclosed space…

Still I knew no good would come of further investigation on my part. Getting close merely put me in greater danger. And if they had in fact come to terms with their epic love in the forced proximity of the tiny closet, then I'd be a lot happier if I didn't brand my eyes with the sight. Yessiree, I was not interested in the goings-on behind that door. Not one bit. Not even if all my romantic scheming was suddenly coming to fruition under my very nose. Not even if the pair was furiously making out right that very second…

Ah, screw it all, I had to know.

A discrete little brown spider skittered under the gap beneath the door, straining its eight beady black eyes for signs of life in the dim light.

To my disappointment, the lovebirds were not exactly getting friendly.

"–hadn't kept him here this long this wouldn't have happened, that's all I'm saying." Kitty was clearly in the middle of a tirade. A quiet, tightly restrained tirade of bitten-off sentences and freezing cold composure, but Nathaniel was scowling nonetheless. Nat had himself pressed up against the door as far as possible from the seething woman, while Kitty paced back and forth, kicking at empty bleach bottles that littered the floor.

"You needn't blame me for the demon's madness!" said Nat, "I'm hardly responsible for our current situation."

"He's been totally unhinged by his servitude to you! He wasn't nearly this irrational the first time we met!"

Nathaniel lifted his head and fixed her with a haughty look.

"If you found my behaviour so deplorable, you needn't have untied me!"

Kitty glowered. "Oh, excuse me for helping you; I can see now that my assistance was most unwelcome! Silly me for thinking you might not want to be bound up by an electrical cord at the mercy of your renegade servant! Perhaps I should have let you die by the golems hand as well? After all, it's not like I've saved your miserable life twice in a row now, but I guess a 'thank you' would be too much to ask for! If you even know what that–"

"Thank you." Nathaniel had been flinching painfully all through Kitty's speech, and now his voice came quietly. I'd never seen his face so flushed.

Kitty's gesticulating hands froze in midair. She frowned and leaned in as if she hadn't heard him correctly.

"What?"

Nathaniel cleared his throat, attempting to hold himself a little higher. "Thank you Kitty. You're right of course. You have done me a service, and I've been less than grateful. I suppose it's because I simply can't fathom why you did it. Nevertheless, I apologize."

Kitty's eyes narrowed. "I don't buy that."

Tension crackled between them. Gleefully, I skittered up to the ceiling for a better view.

"You've been very generous, despite everything. I suppose that's why I felt I had to protect you from Whitwell." Nathaniel ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I don't suppose my career is ever going to recover."

"Whitwell?" Kitty's face creased with puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that when you first showed up I was planning on handing you over to the government, but in the end I just couldn't go through with it. I was more or less wrestling the Minister of Security out of my house, and I suspect she now blames me for car theft."

"But why? I thought you were an obedient, genuflecting, ministry toad."

Nat winced. "Thanks."

"Well, no I didn't…I mean, thank you for not turning me in, of course. I just…I wouldn't expect…"

"It's alright. I find I'm even surprising myself these days."

"Yes. But why?" Kitty breathed.

Nathaniel bent down his head toward her. "I suppose," he said quietly, staring into her eyes, "I suppose it's because…" He trailed off, leaning even closer toward Kitty's upturned face.

I descended down on a silken thread, flailing my little spider limbs in delight. Perhaps a little two violently in fact, for just as Kitty's eyes began to flutter shut, Nathaniel reeled back at the sight of the dangling arachnid and snatched it out of the air.

"Bartimaeus!" he thundered, closing his fist around my delicate form, "You! I know that's you!"

"Oomph! Let me go," the spider cried as Nat's pale fingers blotted out its view.

I didn't have time to kick myself for being discovered. Instead, I sunk my fangs deep into the fleshy skin between Nat's thumb and forefinger. He swore and loosened his grip, which was all I needed. In a swirl of lightening that hopefully seared his eyelids, I became a hazy black vapour and drained out the keyhole.

[4. I highly recommend this form to anyone in need of a quick escape. Holding it together is a no brainer; plus you've got the double advantage of decreased visibility and the flexibility to squeeze into the tiniest of hiding places. Ten years back, after accidentally botching a mission (due to no fault of my own), I'd spent three weeks hiding under my mistress's floorboards as a pinwheeling cloud of ozone. With a missing demon in the house, she couldn't even tie her shoe without glancing over her shoulder, eventually becoming such a gibbering, nervy mess that she had to be carted off to Bedlam.]

Outside the closet, I rematerialized.

Kitty and Nat were raising a ruckus once more, but I paid them no heed.

"Stoggles? What might you be doing exactly?"

The purple imp was curled up into a fetal ball with a red and white checkered tablecloth pulled over his head.

"Shhh!" He hissed. "It'll 'ear you, it will!"

"What? Your fish…contraption?" I frowned at Stoggles' whimpering nod. If that terrifying concoction had achieved sentience then perhaps I would have to move Kitty and Nat somewhere else. I contemplated the practicality of tearing the closet out from the rest of the wall and flying it to Amsterdam. I certainly wasn't letting them out, that was for sure.

All thoughts of vicious food items were tossed from my mind as a sound from outside suddenly pierced the room.

I threw myself to the ground as the light of a torch flashed across the window: once, and then again. Shadows flitted past the crack beneath the front door, and a low snuff-snuffling sound filtered through the cheap drywall.

"Stoggles," I mumbled with my lips squashed into the linoleum, "Is that the–"

"Oi, its Night Police!" the imp cried, tossing off the blanket, "We're saved!"

The words Night Police and saved did not belong in the same sentence. Ever. I grabbed Stoggles by the scruff of his neck and yanked him back from the door.

"What did you do?" I hissed.

"You told me t' call fer 'elp, remember?" Stoggles blinked back at me, which was rather disconcerting since his eyelids slid shut horizontally.

"Not the Night Police, genius!" His limbs swung haphazardly as I shook him. "Haven't you got any idea what they'd do to Kitty and Nathaniel if they found them here?"

"Nothin' we wouldn't do ourselves?" Stoggles suggested.

"No! It's not – we aren't going to…look. Just help me get this stuff out of the way and go hide somewhere, Alright?"

Chairs were righted, candles were put out, scattered cutlery was stuffed into mouse-holes – and all the while the front door screeched and rattled on its hinges as the Night Police caught scent of the humans inside.

The two of us dove under a serving cart just as the frail wood finally gave and the policemen and their furry cohorts burst in with the moon at their backs.

Breathing is quite optional for a spirit such as myself, and as one of the government's four-legged killing machines slunk past, I decided to forego it. The absence of air in my lungs luckily prevented me from gasping loudly when the pack made strait for the closet and let out a collective howl. Great. It was all up to me to save them once again.

"You just had to call the Night Police, didn't you Stoggles?" I mumbled as I shifted forms and stepped out of hiding. Immediately the wolves turned to me, backs bristling and lips curled back to reveal an unpleasant (though well cared for) set of incisors.

I tipped my hat to one of the humans of the group.

"Hullo, mate! Can I help you?" I leaned casually on the mop in my hand.

"State your name citizen," one of the officers rumbled. "What are you doing here?" He gestured to the others, who moved away from the closet to circle round me, sniffing cautiously.

"Nothin', I'm just Jimmy, the night custodian," I replied perkily. "If you gents are looking for a bite, I'm afraid we're closed for the night."

"Eh, wot about me! I'm a custodian too!" Stoggles stumbled out from under the dessert cart, herded by a set of the mangiest looking canines I'd ever seen in service to the Night Police. I noted with some bewilderment that he was now a scraggly, spotty young woman on the first plane.

The officer eyed her skeptically.

"You work here? I'm sure both of you are aware that there is a nine o'clock curfew in effect. I'm afraid we'll have to bring you in. As soon as we take care of the emergency here, that is."

"Emergency?" I laughed nervously. "There's no emergency here!"

"Though we sure do 'preciate all you nice men comin' to 'elp us." The Stoggles-girl fluttered her dishwater-coloured eyelashes and flashed a winsome smile which displayed her one remaining tooth to lovely effect. The officer looked frightened.

"Ahem. Well we'd better have a look around boys," he said, "Probably a false alarm, but still, let's do things proper. Pull up the floor boards, cut the phone lines, rip out the plaster – all that…" he trailed off as the toothless janitor-girl began stroking the sleeve of his jacket.

"I like a man in uniform," she warbled happily.

The man choked and yanked his arm away. "Er, right – come on fellows, change of plan. Let's get out of here. You two get on home and we'll leave you off with a warning."

He took a hurried step toward the door. All would have been well if Kitty and Nat hadn't picked that moment to finally break the hinges off the closet door and tumble out onto their faces.

Kitty and Nat stared at the Night Police.

The Night Police stared at Kitty and Nat.

I stared at Stoggles.

"…Gents?" The officer finally snapped his fingers, and all of a sudden all hell broke loose.

Wolves closed in from all directions. They came leaping over tables and squeezing between cabinets, forming an impenetrable knot of snarling fur around my human companions. I moved to assist, only to find a 200-pound canid flying at my throat.

A short jab in the carotid with a mop handle dispatched it rather easily, and I spun my janitorial weapon over my head in triumph.

"Ouch!"

I spun around, only to find a half of a dozen werewolves had fixed themselves to Stoggles gangly limbs. They flapped about like fur coats on a clothesline as he windmilled his arms and legs in an effort to shake them off.

"Hold still," I told him, and plucked them off one by one like leeches.

That settled, I attempted to peer into the writhing mass of wolf hair that separated Kitty and Nat from the rest of us. The pair was making a last stand by the coat rack. Kitty was skillfully brandishing the butter knife she had used to cut Nathaniel free, while the young magician appeared to be having a considerably more difficult time of it.

"I…demand…you…stop!" Nathaniel panted as he wrestled a snoutfull of slobbery fangs away from his neck. With his pale, skinny arms, it was sure to be a losing battle.

Feeling generous, I cast a spare Detonation his way.

"Don't…you know…who I–" He was cut off abruptly as a burst of green light erupted, incinerating his foe and knocking him clear across the room. He scrambled to his feet and ran forward, yelling all the while.

"Listen, I'm John Mandrake, Minister of –" the hapless magician tripped over his shoelaces and once again knocked his face into the ground. I hoped he'd still have teeth by the end of all this. But the boy was certainly determined. Glaring now, he rose carefully and climbed atop a chair, bellowing from the bottom of his lungs.

"Halt! Halt this assault at once! I am a government official, and I command you to–"

At that moment, a particularly flea-ridden and obese wolf tackled him to the ground, where he cracked his head against a tile and presumably lost consciousness.

Kitty was at his side in an instant, slitting open Nat's assailant with her butter knife and checking for the boy's pulse.

"Hey," Called the officer, yanking the girl up by her hair. "You're Kitty Jones, aren't you?"

Kitty struggled, fixing the man with the sort of glare that could set the sun to shivering. I kicked at the wolf that had seen fit to latch itself on to my calf and leapt forward to help her. As I raised my hand, I felt a sudden tug at my elbow.

Stoggles, who had disappeared for a moment, was suddenly by my side again, bearing something heavy over his head.

"Stand back," he warned me, "This ain't gonna be pretty."

My eyes widened as I realized what he held.

"No, Stoggles! Don't!"

It was too late. I threw myself back as the Poached salmon à la Stoggles glooped out of its pan and flung through the air. It wobbled horrifically as it slopped into the officer's face and burst.

It my many years of service on Earth, I have become acquainted with many horrible scents. There's the revolting odor of putrefied fish, the metallic tang of blood, the pervasive fetid aroma of the sewers magicians are so fond of hiding bodies in, and of course the nasty, spongy, acrid stench of human beings themselves. But never in all my life had I ever smelled something like this, and I know I never, ever will again.

"It burns!" The officer cried out, dropping Kitty like a hot potato. Indeed, his forehead seemed to be bubbling oddly. With a muffled gagging sound, he collapsed to the floor.

All around the room, werewolves were coughing and choking, tears leaking from their watery, bloodshot eyes. The Night Police, like all wolves, had a sense of smell approximately ten-thousand times more sensitive than that of a human. It was killing them.

"Ughh," Nat moaned, rising from his heap on the ground, "What is that terrible smell?"

Kitty helped him to his feet. "I have no idea, and I don't want to know," she said, smiling pleasantly and kicking a writhing wolf in the ribs.

We had congratulated ourselves too soon. Something, I sensed, was behind me. I whirled around just in time to see one of the wolves that had been panting and heaving on the floor just moments ago sail past, teeth bared, on a trajectory for the back of Kitty Jones' exposed neck.

"No!" Nat leapt forward, pushing Kitty back and shielding her with his own body. The wolf snarled and turned on him.

Nathaniel screamed and stumbled back as the creature tore in. Brilliant red bloomed across his shirt. Kitty and I moved at the same time, the girl stepping unthinkingly into the blast radius of my Detonation to stab madly at the wolf with her knife over and over again. If not for her Resilience she would have been dead. The wolf whimpered and lay still.

Nathaniel stared at his bloodstained hands in shock and collapsed to the ground. His face had grown terribly pale. Kitty leaned over him, eyes wide with worry.

"Are you…Nathaniel, how bad is it?" she demanded, pulling at his shredded shirt. Nathaniel let his head clunk back against the tiles, staring vacantly up at the ceiling.

"I suppose we're even now Ms. Jones," he murmured. "For months I thought you'd died for me, now it's my turn to do the same for you."

I swear it was the stench still hanging in the air that made my eyes water– I certainly wasn't getting teary-eyed. And even if I was, you could hardly blame me – there wasn't a dry eye in the place.

Well, except for Kitty's, actually.

There was a resounding slap, and suddenly Nat was clutching a big red welt on his cheek.

"Stop being so melodramatic," she told him, "This is just a scratch. You won't even need stitches!"

"What?" Nathaniel clutched his chest and stared at it in bewilderment.

"You idiot," Kitty sighed. And with that she bent her head and kissed him. I suppose the boy was still confused to hear he wouldn't be giving up the ghost, but never-the-less, he curled his fingers into her hair and kissed back with a satisfied sigh.

I cleared my throat. "Well, it's about time you two got round to it! What did I tell you, eh Nat? ...Nat?"

I received no answer.

Once again I was being ignored. But this time, I couldn't have been happier.

ooooooooooooo

"Well, this is it then," Nathaniel said.

Stoggles and I were once again in the study, each situated in our own carefully crafted pentacle. The room was filled with cardboard boxes, and shiny white dust covers had been thrown over the furniture. A pale light filtered in from outside where a taxi idled, waiting to smuggle Nat and Kitty out of the country and into their new life.

"I can't say I'll miss it here," I said, "It's been more than long enough, Natty-boy."

Kitty had finally prevailed in convincing my master to allow Stoggles and I to go home. In the aftermath of the kidnapping incident, he'd been livid enough to split me in two. That is, until he'd been reminded by one very irate commoner that he wouldn't still be alive had I not stepped in. Nat was finally learning to appreciate what others did for him. And of course, it had helped when I'd pointed out that once I was home he wouldn't have to put up with any more of my harmless shenanigans.

The number one news story of the week had been the unaccountable discovery of an entire squadron of Night Policemen found dead in an abandoned pizza parlor, along with the remains of some very questionable food item. The general consensus was that the rogue wolves had caught a nasty case of food poisoning after abusing their station to break into a commercial business for some kind of wild party, and Jane Farrar was reprimanded for her poor control over her minions.

All in all, it had worked out quite nicely for all involved.

Nathaniel gave a non-committal shrug. "It's just as well. The two of you are the worst set of servants I've ever had. Maybe this time I can find someone who can actually cook without causing the apocalypse."

"I know just the spirit," I said helpfully, "Name's Farquarl. Good tempered, lovely to work with – even dresses like a chef!"

"I'll keep that in mind."

I smirked to myself and settled into my pentacle as Nat began the incantation. The lone candle on the desk guttered as a strange breeze swept the room, carrying with it the smell of another land. Home. I could hardly believe it. And yet with every passing syllable it became a closer and closer reality.

As the two of us began to dematerialize, Stoggles leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"We could've jist let them get eaten, you know. We didn't know they was gonna let us go, did we?"

"We didn't know for sure," I said, eyeing the gentle way Nathaniel's fingers tucked themselves into the crook of Kitty's elbow, "And getting free would have been nice. But this is even better."

The last whisper of the spell faded into silence. With the last of my corporal existence on this plane, I turned to Kitty. A smile was on her face and she gave me a wink that I knew meant she'd be ensuring that this would not be our last meeting.

As Kitty and Nathaniel faded from sight, I pushed them from my mind. The Other Place was approaching and I had a long, well-earned rest to enjoy.

It was about time.

THE END