A/N: Wow, sorry for the cliffhanger there. I was away for Memorial Day
weekend. Speaking of which, I was gone for four days, people. How come you
guys didn't flood my inbox, huh? Review. Seriously. I mean it. Chop chop.
Or I won't update.
"Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh." Holly breathed. The Kevlar vest, the I emblazoned on his torso. Bad thoughts. The gray hair, the tired bags under the closed eyes. The creases at the corners of his eyes. Why did he look so old? She ran her fingertips over his face. He didn't react, of course; he was unconscious. But he never reacted. "What is--what can we do?" she asked nervously.
She could practically hear Foaly shrugging in her earpiece. "Well, he'll be somewhat bulletproof. But that will restrict his breathing. As far as the sudden senescence, my best guess is that your magic wasn't enough. Butler's own life force was needed. About fifteen years of it, by the looks of things."
Holly nodded. Once again, her best hadn't been good enough. "There's not anything else I can do, is there?" she asked, her defeatist side surfacing.
"Nope."
"Alright then. I'd better go tell Fowl the good news." If it really is good news, she added silently. Who knew what would happen when Butler came around? Please don't die, she thought.
She exited the mobile cryogenic chamber into London in winter. Artemis straightened. "Well?" he inquired impatiently.
Captain Short sighed, and let the fatigue drag her shoulders down. Leaning against the wall, she apprised the Irish boy of the situation. "He's alive," she conceded, "but I can't promise you're going to like this."
She looked up to find that she was talking to his back. The enterprising Mr. Fowl had gone to see for himself. She followed.
In the pod, she found Artemis coolly inspecting his fallen protector. "How long will he be out?"
"Another couple of days, Foaly said."
"I see."
"Artemis," she asked suddenly, "how did Butler get shot?"
"He took a bullet meant for me."
The look of contempt and loathing on Holly's face saved her from having to put the emotion into words. How a person could force someone he cared about to do something like that, she would never understand. Artemis turned his head away.
"He won't be able to guard you the way he used to, you know, Fowl."
"I know." Artemis paused. "He told me his given name."
"Domovoi," Holly whispered, eliciting a curious, calculating glance from the contrite prodigy before her.
"Yes."
The silence between them was awkward. They both ducked their heads, and intently studied the man called Domovoi Butler.
"Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh." Holly breathed. The Kevlar vest, the I emblazoned on his torso. Bad thoughts. The gray hair, the tired bags under the closed eyes. The creases at the corners of his eyes. Why did he look so old? She ran her fingertips over his face. He didn't react, of course; he was unconscious. But he never reacted. "What is--what can we do?" she asked nervously.
She could practically hear Foaly shrugging in her earpiece. "Well, he'll be somewhat bulletproof. But that will restrict his breathing. As far as the sudden senescence, my best guess is that your magic wasn't enough. Butler's own life force was needed. About fifteen years of it, by the looks of things."
Holly nodded. Once again, her best hadn't been good enough. "There's not anything else I can do, is there?" she asked, her defeatist side surfacing.
"Nope."
"Alright then. I'd better go tell Fowl the good news." If it really is good news, she added silently. Who knew what would happen when Butler came around? Please don't die, she thought.
She exited the mobile cryogenic chamber into London in winter. Artemis straightened. "Well?" he inquired impatiently.
Captain Short sighed, and let the fatigue drag her shoulders down. Leaning against the wall, she apprised the Irish boy of the situation. "He's alive," she conceded, "but I can't promise you're going to like this."
She looked up to find that she was talking to his back. The enterprising Mr. Fowl had gone to see for himself. She followed.
In the pod, she found Artemis coolly inspecting his fallen protector. "How long will he be out?"
"Another couple of days, Foaly said."
"I see."
"Artemis," she asked suddenly, "how did Butler get shot?"
"He took a bullet meant for me."
The look of contempt and loathing on Holly's face saved her from having to put the emotion into words. How a person could force someone he cared about to do something like that, she would never understand. Artemis turned his head away.
"He won't be able to guard you the way he used to, you know, Fowl."
"I know." Artemis paused. "He told me his given name."
"Domovoi," Holly whispered, eliciting a curious, calculating glance from the contrite prodigy before her.
"Yes."
The silence between them was awkward. They both ducked their heads, and intently studied the man called Domovoi Butler.
