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Chapter 2 - Waiting & Rain

It's the year 1944.
Demons and summoning has declined dramatically over the years.
Jake is a curious and spellbound child who was brought up on stories and tales of great and powerful demons. He feels summoning is his only option.

Chapter 2 - Waiting & Rain

Chapter 2 - Waiting & Rain
A small sigh erupted from Jake as he leaned backwards in the worn, leather chair. His face was slightly flushed, mostly from excitement, with either crimson eye giddy with eagerness.
This could work, no it would. He had to have hope.

It was strange that he had crimson colored eyes, Jake knew. Albinos had red eyes but he had skin pigment and there was a dark hue to his hair. It was just an oddity that he possessed. Not too many people noticed but when they did it was always surrounded by countless questions that he wasn’t sure how to answer.

He gazed down at himself, the reflection on the broken mirror opposite doing the same.
Him and his brother were dirt poor, barely able to survive in harsh environment London. They had luckily found a cheap apartment building where the landlord was incredibly kind. She knew the predicament they were in and excepted pay when needed. Their home was tiny, almost too small for just the two of them but they managed. There was working water but they had no electricity, candles were their method of lighting during the night or storms. They had no fans or anything like that so their windows were usually open which left them permanently stuck that way so it wasn’t good during rain or the winter but somehow they got them down without ripping them off the hinges. The living room —if you could even call it that- was also combination kitchen and bedroom. It was a one-room deal with a side bathroom that had a curtain separating the living/kitchen/bedroom from the water closet. There also was an omni-present layer of grime and dirt that no matter how hard you tired to clean it never was abolished. Sometimes the sink spat out black water and you shouldn’t dirt too much of the water either for the high levels of sulfur gave you stomach aches. It wasn’t like before. Their home had been monstrous. When their parents were alive. Their parents had been influential people and in truth owned a large fortune. So Gabriel and Jake should be heirs to that large fortune but sadly they never received it. Some how their lawyer had swindled them out of it, throwing them every curve ball and slider he could. The fortune went to him no questions asked and Gabe and Jake received nothing.
The world was so corrupt.

He examined himself in the dirty broken mirror in front of him that was lying on the floor. He wasn’t a large boy, about average. Normal colored hair, a deep, dark brown just like his father, that accented well with his light olive colored tan. Most who saw him on the streets who weren’t familiar with him excused him to be foreign because of his vivid resemblance to his father who had been a native to Italy. The Italian roots had shown very clearly in him than Gabe who looked just like mother, a fair-haired boy with a strong build and who was incredibly tall for his age. Many of the girls had taken a liking to him when he was in his teenage years, he was constantly drooled upon by them but Jake was just as good looking. But Jake had no friends. Usually he was out working in at the local butcher’s doing various tasks, delivery, cleaning and packing. It wasn’t bad and the Butcher paid well and even, because he knew of Gabe and Jake’s situation, gave them pieces of meet free of charge at times when he was in a good mood. Work took up most time and the other portion was used in school, where he was excelling. He was rubbish in most sports but excellent in class, science being his specialty. At the age of 5 he had memorized the periodic table of elements and could tell you each one’s chemical compounds and how many electrons were in either category. He was excellent in histories, which lead to his newest passion, magic. So with work and school and then learning magic at night he had no time for friends or a girlfriend for that matter. People didn’t really talk to him at school and when they did he had his nose in a book and never would even attempt to make eye contact with the broken hearted girl who had gained the nerve to try to talk to the new ‘heartthrob’. Jake was a strange boy with only his beliefs and heart to motive him and keep his research going. There was one question that remained on the top of his list, eating away at him everyday. Why did the Government want to rid the existence of the magicians from the world, or their country for that matter so badly? It was truly puzzling but he still pressed on, inching closer every day to the answer. So close he felt he could smell it, which led to the summoning of Bartimaeus.

Jake straightened up in his chair, placing his forehead in the palm of his hands and leaning downwards. He quickly closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts, all the emotions and things that had been worrying him before or setting off strange emotions that he wasn’t used to were flowing from his mind as he focused on one specific thing.
The Orb.
The Orb of Cleopatra, as treasured as some of her most priceless jewels to people who knew about it. There were very few writings on the Orb and even those where vague and un-descriptive. But certain resources lead him onto Orb and his searching restless. It was a treasure like the Holy Grail; in the right hands it could do great good but in the wrong trifle with certain fear and uprisings with the people since nobody knew about magic.
The Orb was said to hold great magical properties giving the owner or person in possession of it fearful magics at their disposal, invincible to most magical attacks directed at the owner or person in possession of it and the ability to travel in time, a feat that man himself has always dreamed of but has never accomplished. Time machines, magic and science have never been able to penetrate the barrier of time and travel to the different eras of the world, changing the past and rewriting and routing the future. Some may say it’s for the best. The past is not to be messed with; there is nothing you could do about things or happenings that were caused before. You can only fix them in the present to change the future. But that’s an entirely different story with Cleopatra’s Orb. Ironically the Orb had never belonged to Cleopatra. It was an intended gift to her from a powerful magician who was murdered before he was able to do so. But the name stayed and the Orb looked for. Nobody who knew what it was knew where it was. At first glance it actually looks like a normal rock with distinct lust that shines brightly. Only when you speak the incantation are the secrets of the Orb revealed. The Orb is said to change its color after that into a deep crystal colored purple.
Jake wanted it that Orb and he had a hunch where it was.

That’s what Bartimaeus’s job was now, looking for that Orb. Of course when Jake had first mentioned it Bartimaeus denied its very existence but Jake wasn’t fooled. He pressed on and finally ordered Bartimaeus to tell him all he needed to know about the orb.
The conversation replayed back in his head and as he remembered what Bartimaeus had asked.
“Oh yes I forgot to ask you. What’s your name Master so I can call you by that from now on.”
Jake knew what he was getting at. A magician’s real name must be kept secret from a fellow magician or a demon because their real name can hinder them and leave them weak, so he gave a fake name.
“Gabriel." Jake had remembered the name of once his favorite magicians he had read about.
“Gaberial eh…” The djinni scratched his chin turning from Jake. “You don’t say..." Bartimaeus’s voice trailed off and the conversation ended there.

Jake glanced upwards as the Big Ben stuck noon, the loud bell chiming echoed throughout the room.
“I can’t wait any longer!” He yelled, standing up suddenly. He rushed over to the coat rack and pulled down his long dark brown jacket, grabbing his tan cap and placing that on his head. Jake flung open the door and rushed out, slamming it back as he ran down the stairs and out onto the cold streets of London.


First of all I hate this place.
I hate London.
No, scratch that, I hate this world.
Being the incredible and multi-talented being that I was I managed to transform into a simple crow, with an elegant thin figure, beautiful, sleek, black feathers and a transfixing stare that could have lulled the most dangerous beast into a sweet slumber.
Good description, ey?
So, I was found flying over the bleak, gray streets of London, water drenching my hard worked on feathers and weighting me down terribly with the horribly, strong wind piercing through my very being and threatening to shove me off course. But I prevailed and kept about, keeping above the major wind currents and avoiding any unwanted confrontations with other birds.
See, animals —like another crow- could see through my disguise to a certain extent. A creature wouldn't be able to see me in my other forms but with animals delicate senses it could detect my odd aura and find me a threat, which wouldn't end nicely for the other animal. So, I avoided them, refraining from any unnecessary bloodshed.
The boy's request hindered a problem though.
What could he possibly want with that? It was a powerful object and not to be messed with, especially in the hands of a kid. But, I guess in the end it's not my problem. I'll be long gone before he makes any changes that could affect my life style.

A loud clash of thunder roared above me, shaking the very sky into a crumbling mess as the light shower turned into a torrential downpour. It was becoming very difficult to maintain flight with my small wings, and I was being flung every which direction because of that same problem. So, I glided —to best of my ability considering the circumstances- towards the ground, taking up a perch in a well-rooted oak tree that bordered the perimeter of the small park in the heart of the town. I scanned the area quickly on each plane and finding no hindrances I transformed right there into a more suitable character, a boy. I was in the same form as I was earlier when was introduced to my young master, just younger. I was in the guise of a 13 year-old Potemy.
Stealing into the crowd, all either cowering in the rain and even if it be futile trying to keep dry or the veterans who are used to this weather and choose to just accept the fact that it was almost and impossible fact to keep dry in London, I quickly meshed with them and after walking a few blocks the museum came into view.
/There we go./ I thought/Almost there./ My thoughts wandered again and I, at that point, was about to turn back and face whatever consequences I would be subjected too. But that thought was only brief and with sudden haste I ran into the building, as if taking cover from the rain. I pretended to have interest in the place and ventured inside, unknowing at the time that I should have turned back.


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