Disclaimer: I don't own any of the stuff that Jonathon Stroud created. I only own stuff I write however good or bad they maybe. And other stuff also. But hey I should started instead going on about what I own. Or not.

By the way I decided to extend my one-shot( me : sighhhh).....on request by THE * fabulous * reviewers. I did want to but couldn't as I didn't know what to/how to continue. But I know finally what I am doing. I hope it will be a short and sweet story (my alter: ..ahemm...not sweet!! gross!!.. me : allright a little sour then..so much for me being trite..).. Please read, review and enjoy!!!!!

“..The Golem has been finally stopped and its creator seems to be Police Chief Henry Duvall. This shocking discovery comes with a lot of help from Mandrake, the precociously young minister...”

Jane stuffed her things into the many half-opened boxes and switched off the television. She knew that her colleagues would have been amazed to see her work manually instead of making imps or foliots do her work. But then she wasn't like other magicians. Her personal, daily functioning was something she never had let anyone interfere in, not even the nice Mrs. Allen who had looked after her when she was young.

Life had changed. Not greatly, but becoming Deputy Police inspector had its advantages. She could have an entire apartment in the center of London City. More than that, she had a humungous closet.

It was thankfully different from the simple room which had a side-door which had been utilized by Duvall to open directly into his bedroom. She shuddered at the thought of the nights when her master, inebriated, had pushed and wrenched at it. Well, now she wouldn't have to live in fear.

She smiled and walked around her deserted and messed-up room. However disturbing the room was, it was still the place where she had discovered that she had power. She had studied magic here and prayed to be released from this cage. They seemed to have worked.

It was nightfall. She was tired but still went on packing. It was the turn of the hundreds of books she was, now the proud owner of. She lifted them gently, checked for any damages and stacked them into one of the three teetering piles. The first pile were of those in a reasonable condition, the second of those in a marginally poor condition and the last contained those which were beyond repair and needed special attention.

She scowled as she remembered Duvall's utter disregard for his books. He only cared for two things-- power and wine. Oh and women, which was of course, an on and off passion. They were mere objects to him. As were many other things.

She felt her temper rise and dropped two of the texts on the floor. Take deep breaths.. he is no more..breathe..

Her head was dropping down and her eyes shut with their own accord. She pushed herself through the last pile of books, which were her own. These were very old and worn. Bought second hand on Duvall's instructions, they were the first thing she had owned. It gave her ambition and the will to rise, no matter what. Because she had the power. The magic.

She pulled out a thin volume and turned it around. She rifled through some pages, when she saw some wouldn't turn properly. She opened it carefully and read some of the pages.. torturing djinni is both a necessary and entertaining act... the pages were in a wide fold as if someone had------

She threw the book aside and looked into her mirror. Tears were streaking her flushed face and she gave a tiny sob......

So, there it was. It was the first time she had held it since she had acknowledged her weakness. After that breakdown, she promised that Mandrake would be pinned under the heel of favorite stiletto. She didn't care what it would take, what that ambition could do to her.

The room seemed to swim, and the air brought back the old excitement. The thrill of being watched. And of learning at the same time.

She had buried it in the last drawer of her dresser. Somehow, the book served as a an alien intelligence watching her. Mandrake's thoughts were attached to this book and they followed her everywhere.

Its gaze was deadly but it spurred her act. Finally, she didn't need that spur, that push and she buried the book like many of her bad memories.

Well, not anymore. She put the book on her packing case and smiled to herself. This time when you look at me, I will look right back at you, John Mandrake.

That is what she had thought. Whether that happened, only he could tell. Jane switched off the light and tried to sleep. She tried to, anyway...