London

Artemis delicately dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.

"Quite decent," he said, "a little too much salt."

"It tasted fine to me," replied Butler.

"You may be trained to recognize the taste of poisons, old friend, but a food connoisseur you are not."

Artemis raised one long finger in the air.

"Garcon," he articulated.

A waiter appeared almost immediately.

"Was the dish to ones liking, sir?"

Artemis nodded.

"It was fine,"

The waiter leaned over to remove the plates from the small table.

"And as a last meal?"

Artemis looked up.

The waiter grinned.

"Goodbye,"

Butler began to choke.

"Domovoi," began Artemis, "what-"

He broke off as he too started to choke. In his peripheral vision he could see the waiter moving quickly away and out of the restaurant.

His hands moved quickly to his throat. He could feel his flesh swelling.

"Artemis," gasped Butler, his swollen fingers grasping around his concealed pockets.

Artemis took a long shuddering breath; his vision was beginning to cloud. He could barely see the crowd that had formed, waiting around them like sheep. "Or carrion birds," he thought dizzily.

Butler fell to his knees before Artemis, bringing them to eye level. He held a small pen like device. Artemis saw him as though like through water lifting his arm, and then letting it fall. It struck him in the neck and the small sting made the scene jump painfully clear before his eyes. He was dying. The waiter had somehow poisoned them. Butler was giving him the antidote, but he would be too ill to reach for one of the others he carried. Even if the antidote was correct, Butler would be dead before Artemis recovered enough to inject him.

It was over.

Elsewhere in London

The pop of a champagne cork sounded incongruous with the somber room. Marc smiled to himself as he filled his glass. Tony had out done himself. Not only was Fowl dead, his faithful lap dog was too. He raised his glass to the ceiling. "To revenge," he murmured.

Ireland

Artemis's funeral was held on a rare day in Ireland when the sun was shining. Beneath the clear blue sky, a small crowd stood beside a mahogany coffin. The only sounds to break the silence were the muffled sobs of Angeline Fowl, weeping into her handkerchief and she lent on her husband for support. Artemis Fowl Senior kept his face stoic, but his eyes betrayed his sorrow. His son was dead, his life tragically short, and tomorrow they would attend the funeral of Domovoi Butler. The world was dark, and cruel, and he wasn't sure how he would go on. Beside him, Juliet Butler stood silently. Her hands clasped so tight that her knuckles were white, and her head lowered, twin tracks of tears running down her cheeks. Artemis Fowl the First looked up at the mocking sky. He would find whoever was responsible for this sorrow. He would find them, and then, he would have them killed.

A/N: Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed, they really encourage me to continue updating.