There was a camera mounted to the cave wall when Holly arrived. It was pointed at a table, upon which there was a note and a package. Holly picked up the note and read it. "Remove eye cam and throat mic," it said. "Leave all weapons behind. Remove LEP uniform. Dress in clothing provided and proceed down the tunnel for further instructions."

Reluctantly, Holly did as she was bid and removed her LEP uniform. She kept the unitard underwear she wore underneath and opened the package. Inside was a diaphanous golden dress, the kind of frivolous garment she'd never had occasion to wear or even own, and a pair of matching slippers. She decided to keep her boots on, and yanked the dress over her head with sharp, jerky movements. It tore on the seam under her arm and she swore. "D'arvit." She ignored the makeup provided. She carefully placed her blaster in the box with the rest. Lastly, she removed the eye cam and the throat mic, hoping that there was some clue she'd transmitted to the LEP. She still had the audio transmitter and receiver in her throat, and the tracker in her arm, and the gas canister Foaly had given her, tucked where it shouldn't be found.

Holly cautiously proceeded down the tunnel, counting every pace in a whisper and trying to memorize the way out. In this unused section, the walls and floor were slick, and spotted by a bioluminescent fungus of some kind. Colorless insects quietly lived their lives all around her. She walked for at least an hour, descending deeper into the earth. The tunnel branched occasionally, and there was always a note waiting for her and a camera watching her progress. She whispered the directions to the receiver.

"You're doing fine," Kelp told her, the sound coming in loud and clear directly to her eardrum, though it was inaudible to the rest of the world. "Foaly is working on a way to disable the cameras, put them on a repeating loop so that we can follow you in undetected. Take your time."

"I can't dawdle," Holly whispered. "Artemis is counting on me."

It got hotter and hotter as she descended, and she was sweating freely by the time she entered a large cavern and a hidden door clanged shut behind her.

"Welcome home, Holly," said a voice.

She whirled around. "Driver," she said, recognizing his voice.

"That's what he calls me," said the elf. There was a gun in his hand and he kept it pointed at her. He kept his distance from her, but his eyes crawled over her from head to toe. "Very nice," he purred. "Except for the boots. Combat boots don't go well with an evening gown. You should have worn the slippers."

"Thinks he's the phantom of the opera," Foaly muttered into her ear.

"Where is Artemis?" Holly asked.

Driver's face tightened in anger. "He's alive," he said sulkily. "You would be disgusted to see him. He's messed himself, smells worse than a fresh dwarf tunnel."

Holly almost expected Mulch to comment, but he remained silent. Her rage rose at the thought of what Artemis must have been put through at the hands of this lunatic. Messed himself? That was so unlike the fastidious young man she knew that she almost didn't believe it. "Take me to him," she demanded.

"No," Driver said. "No. First, young lady, we are going to sit down and have a nice dinner and a chat." He gestured toward a door with his gun. "Let's go in there, it's air-conditioned." When she hesitated his face darkened again. "Go on," he snarled.

Holly marched past him and into the room. He didn't come close enough for her to grab him. As she walked she looked around the cavern. Ill-lit and enormous, the floor was level but the walls were rough and there were hundreds of stalactites on the ceiling. Doors dotted the walls at irregular heights and intervals, some with stairs leading up to them, suggesting that natural caves were cut for fairy use. There was no one else that she could see. There were no other noises save those she and Driver made, and the steady drip of water somewhere out of sight. Holly began to wonder if Driver was doing all of this on his own, somehow, of if his accomplices were guarding Artemis.

The air conditioned room she entered was draped with richly colored curtains made from inferior cloth. There was a small table with two chairs, and a dinner was set out, complete with candles. "Sit down," Driver ordered her. "And handcuff yourself to the chair. Nice and tight. No escaping."

"No," said Holly. "I will not handcuffmyself for you."

"Oh, I promise I'll be good," Driver said. "A perfect gentleman. But I know how dangerous you are, Holly. I wouldn't want you attacking me while we eat." And then he shot his gun.

The laser zipped past her ear, so close that she smelled burned hair. A centimeter to the left and she would have been hit. She hadn't even had time to flinch, but she felt the blood drain out of her face. Driver was smiling serenely at her, and she knew that the shot had gone exactly where he'd wanted it to. The next time he fired it wouldn't be a warning. Holly sat. "Fine," she said. "Just don't shoot at me again." She clicked the handcuffs on, one for either wrist; the other ends were already attached to the arms of the wooden chair.

In her ear, Kelp's voice said, "Holly, Foaly's figured out the cameras. We're on our way. We've got you on the tracker, and counting your paces helped. We should be there in thirty minutes."

Thirty minutes, that's all she needed to do, was wait that long.

Driver sat down in the other chair and smiled at her. If anyone had seen him and didn't know he was a psychopath, they might have thought him handsome. "So glad you could join me," he told her, as if this was a brunch between friends. "It's been so long since we've had a chance to talk."

Holly frowned. "Do I know you?" she asked. She searched his face, trying to place it with a name.

"Oh, yes. We were neighbors, once upon a time. I looked a little different then." He turned his face to the side and displayed his profile. "I had my nose done. Nice, isn't it?"

Holly's mind raced furiously as she thought back to all the neighbors she'd ever had. Nothing came up, nothing at all. She furrowed her brow, wracking her brain. "You'll have to refresh my memory," she said cautiously. "How did we meet?"

"I remember it like it was yesterday," said Driver. "Your hair was longer, then. I was taking a walk around the neighborhood when some hoodlums accosted me. But you were there, and you saved me. Ah, you were beautiful, and so fierce. After you ran them off, I said, 'Thank you. What's your name?' You said, 'Holly. And don't mention it.' And then you smiledat me." Driver leaned forward and devoured her face with his eyes. "From that moment on I knew we were meant to be together. You weren't quite ready, though. You were still training."

For the life of her Holly couldn't remember the encounter. She kept silent and felt her stomach sinking. This man had been stalking her for over fifty years and she'd never had a clue.

Driver smiled again at her, and then picked up the fork on the plate in front of her. He held a bite up to her lips. "It's your favorite," he told her. "Go on, taste. Tell me what you think."

"I'm not hungry," Holly told him, refusing to even look at the food.

Driver put the fork down. "How disappointing," he pouted. He patted her hand instead. "No matter. I shall show you what you came to see." He produced a phone and set it on the table before her. There on the screen was Artemis. He was tied to a chair which had been tipped over, and his eyes were closed. There was a small pool of blood beneath his head.

Holly stared hard at the image, and couldn't stop the relief in her voice. "He's breathing," she said. "He's alive." She started noticing other things, too, like the bruises on his face and his tortured feet. "What have you done to him?"

"That Mud Man dared to touch you," Driver said calmly. "I had to show him that he was wrong to do so. You, of course, aren't entirely innocent in the matter. I understand you had a certain morbid curiosity, but really. You should be ashamed of yourself, Holly. I will have to punish you rather severely."

Holly spared a glance from the phone to Driver's face. She didn't like the smug, oily smile on his face. "I suppose you'll torture me, too?" she snarled.

"No, no, of course not. I'm not a monster." He laughed it off. Holly was incredulous, that he could do something like torture a helpless man, and then still believe himself a good guy. "I'll just confine you until you're sorry for what you did. We'll talk every day, you and I. You'll get to know me. Soon, you'll forget all about that Mud Man, and you'll come to love me as much as I love you." He touched her cheek softly. "I've waited so long for you." He brought his face closer to hers, but Holly turned away, disgusted at the thought of kissing him. He pulled back, and frowned. "I've been patient," he said. "But my patience is wearing thin, Holly."

"Take your filthy hand off me," Holly whispered.

Driver didn't, right away. Instead he traced the line of her jaw up to her ear, grabbed it in a hard grip that made her wince, and turned her cheek toward him. She couldn't pull away without ripping her own ear off. He kissed the corner of her mouth, smirked at her, and let her go. Then he sat back and lifted his own fork to his mouth.

The instant his eyes dropped to his plate, Holly burst into action.