A/N: I MUST WARN YOU THAT THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME 'STRONG T-RATED' MATERIAL (hints at non-consensual sex, though NO descriptions). I'm sure it doesn't reach M-rating, but better be safe – don't say I didn't warn you.

Review replies sent out as usual.

Also thanks to: aperfectattitude, Mousewolf, Zodokai, septempopuli, Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, hello, JediWeasley, Soccer101, SPG, Rebel Rose, TheWatcherandReader, theGRASSisALWAYSgreener, an-angel-in-hell, AnnieThePipster, LettuceNPudding, Queen Dragon, The Flying Moose, Lady Emerald Black, J. Dawnwolf, Fleury, Brian, The OddBird, Emrisah, artemisfowl12, Koru-chan, comwizz2

Oh, and thanks to The White Lily for recommending my AF duology on Criminality. I was most pleased when the admins contacted me for permission to archieve The Aztec Incident and this fic on their site :)

Chapter 17

A Life Without Holly

"Cat got your tongue?"

"N…no," Artemis replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. No need to let Delylah believe he had all of a sudden lost a hundred IQ points. In this life, after all, he was a genius. He didn't yet know what kind of things he had accomplished as a genius, he didn't know whether he had invented things and gained Nobel prizes like in his other life, but still, he had to act the genius. "It's nice to back," he said.

"Did the negotiations go well?" she asked.

"Yes, quite satisfactory." Artemis nodded, wondering what kind of a negotiation he had been at. Hopefully he would remember it soon.

"Arty!" the woman turned away from him, shouting upstairs, "Arty come and greet your father!"

Father? – Artemis blinked, but quickly forced his features not to show his surprise. Well, why not? If he was a married man, he shouldn't be surprised that he had a child as well…

Soon he heard steps and a short, very thin boy of about seven-eight years appeared on the top of the staircase. Slowly he descended the stairs, and the closer he came, the clearer Artemis saw the contempt in his eyes. The boy was pouting, his nose wrinkled in an aristocratically stuck-up manner, and his deep blue eyes were narrowed. It didn't take a genius to realise that this boy loathed his father.

"Hello, Son," Artemis forced himself to sound nonchalant and even tried to muster a small smile.

"Father." The boy nodded. "How has your journey to Switzerland been?"

"Pleasant, thank you."

"Good," the boy – obviously Artemis Fowl the Third – said impassively, then turned to his mother. "May I go now?"

"Of course, dear." The woman gently ruffled the boy's raven black hair and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

Without a second glance at his father, the child turned on his heels and hurried upstairs. It seemed to Artemis as though his 'son' had been wiping his cheek after he turned away from Delylah. Apparently the boy hated public display of affection just as much as his 'father' did.

"Well, I'm a bit tired. I'll go up to…" Artemis began, then suddenly realised that he didn't know whether he had a room of his own or he shared one with his so-called wife.

"Go on, dear, I'll let you rest for a couple of hours. Arty and I are going shopping anyway." Delylah smiled at him. He couldn't help but feel repulsed by her smile. It was a smile too sweet, sickeningly sweet, yet there was some hidden bitterness in it that most people wouldn't have seen but Artemis spotted it easily.

Heaving his suitcase again, Artemis headed upstairs, hoping that his room was still the same one he had always owned and that it didn't have a special sealing mechanism for which he would need to remember a code.

To his relief he found that the door of his room opened like any normal door; and upon entering, he found it draped with all navy and brown: the colours his room had had been before Holly decided to change the draperies to yellow and lime green.

He quickly looked into the wardrobe to find only his suits hanging in there – apparently his wife had a room of her own as no female clothes were to be seen around. The room didn't seem to have a 'woman's touch' to it at all, and even though Artemis had been shocked when Holly reorganised his/their room, now he couldn't help but miss the cheery yellows and greens. Those colours had reflected Holly's personality: her vivacious, youthful nature; but this room here was decorated for the 'old Artemis': the cold, calculating, lonely man. Apparently Delylah wasn't the type to change the decorations according to her taste; she seemed too cold to want to make the house look warmer.

Artemis dropped himself on the bed and suddenly felt more tired than ever. Having landed in a completely different life was a bit too much for him. No Holly, no Patrick, no parents, no Butlers, but a frigid-looking wife and a downright unsympathetic son.

The way that boy had looked at him… the utter contempt in those otherwise beautiful blue eyes… Artemis simply couldn't get his 'son' out of his mind.

Why does he hate me? – he wondered, lying down still fully-clothed and massaging his temples. Why?

As an answer, a picture appeared in his mind. A boy, probably two years younger than current Artemis the Third, was sitting at a table, deeply immersed in reading a book. The child's forehead was creased with concentration, and he was biting his lower lip. Anyone could have told he was confused and frustrated.

"Why are you reading my metaphysics book again?" Artemis sighed, stepping to his son to peer at the book over his shoulder.

The boy glanced up at him, a defiant look on his face. "I read whatever I feel like reading!"

"But what's the point in reading something you don't understand?"

"I do understand it!" the boy snapped.

"Do you? Then tell me, what did F. Roy Dean Schlippe's seventh law mean?"

"I haven't yet read that one," Artemis the Third said sharply.

His father shook his head. "You're on page 154. The ten rules were mentioned on page eleven, in the first chapter, so you must have read it. And the first chapter was the most easy to understand part."

Something seemed to have snapped in the child, as he suddenly banged the book on the desk and jumped to his feet. "Do you always have to rub it in? Do you?"

"I just don't want you to overexert yourself mentally," Artemis said in what he believed to be a benign voice.

"Overexert myself?" The boy's eyes were gleaming with fury. "Why not tell me outright that I'm not clever enough to understand your bloody book? Why not tell me that I'm not good enough to be a genius's son? Why?"

Before Artemis could have answered, little Arty was out of the room and he stood there, dumbstruck.

So that's why his son hated him. Because he wanted to be a genius like his father but wasn't. The boy blamed his father for not having passed his genius genes down to him.

Artemis wasn't a bit surprised that the boy wasn't a genius. After all, most genii had clever, but not genius children. Patrick being a genius could only be thanked to Foaly's gene manipulation. The centaur had made sure that little Pat would inherit the right genes from his father; but this boy here must have been conceived the traditional way, and with traditional conception there was no chance of making sure the child would get the genes that made his father a genius.

Artemis wondered if he had ever tried to have a normal father-to-son discussion with 'Arty' in which he explained the boy all about genetics. Probably he hadn't even cared to try. And if he hadn't, then it was no wonder that the boy hated him: after all, he was a father who would always be better than him. A father who would always be set as an example to him but whose accomplishments would always be out of reach for him. A father, compared to whom he'd always be second-class.

As he thought it over, Artemis realised that he hadn't exactly been diplomatic, asking the boy about Schlippe's seventh law. Anyone who knew a bit about children would have been more tactful; but in this life, Artemis obviously didn't know a thing about children, and he had absolutely no idea how to treat a six-year-old without hurting his feelings. He wondered if Delylah had ever reprimanded him for being such a careless and tactless father. Perhaps she hadn't. She herself didn't seem like a full-of-heart person, and Artemis presumed that she kept their son like a puppet: took him to various meetings to show him off but never sat down at the boy's bedside to read him a goodnight story. Not like Holly…

A sudden smile came to Artemis's face as he remembered a discussion with his son Patrick in the Hun camp. It had been the day after Patrick had been stabbed: they were sharing childhood memories with each other. Patrick told him how Holly had used to sit by his bedside, reading him Harry Potter and Winnie the Pooh.

Despite being tomboyish, Holly was the ideal mother, no doubt about that. The ideal mother, and the perfect wife… How on Earth had he ended up with this woman in this life? – Artemis thought bitterly.

Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the scene he had seen upon first spotting Delylah. The scene about the middle-East country, Butler's death and himself being at the mercy of some gunrunner.

I was a gunrunner too, he realised. I was smuggling weapons into… into… which country again? Syria? Israel? Jordan? Lebanon? He didn't remember.

Slowly more and more images came to him, filling the gaps in the story. At age eighteen he had decided that real money lay in selling weapons to certain military groups in the Middle-East. He had even gone there to seal a contract – Butler had tried to dissuade him of course but he hadn't listened – and he got captured by a rival gunrunner.

What was I thinking? – he asked himself. Selling weapons, for heaven's sake! Who sells weapons, contributes to the death of hundreds, thousands, even millions! And it cost Butler his life! I killed him! I killed him with my greed! How could I?

Guilt, such as he had never felt before, surged through Artemis. He knew this wasn't reality, not his reality anyway, but still… he had done it. If he had never met Holly, this is where he would have ended up: being a real criminal, the cause of several innocent people's death… and all that for money. Only monsters did such things… and in this life, he was a monster. The Artemis who had never met the fairies turned into a person completely devoid of inhibitions. A person who bulldozed over anything and anyone to get what he wanted… only to end up as the puppet of a gangster's daughter. After all, that's what he was – wasn't he?

Why did I agree to marry her in the first place? To save my life all right, but… why didn't I simply get divorced later?

His head again filled with new images.

He was in a room, his hands still tied behind his back, but he was at least sitting on a chair. The room had two doors, a small bed and one tiny window that looked over a dirty marketplace. Under normal circumstances Artemis wouldn't have wasted a glance at a marketplace like that, but in his current condition, he found it beautiful and exciting. As his life still hung in the balance, he didn't know whether this marketplace would be the last colourful thing he saw before someone came and shot him, so he tried to make the most of it. He even stood up, and as clumsily as he could with only using his legs, he pushed the chair closer to the window in the hope of feeling a bit of wind. But there was none and the heat was unbearable.

Staring outside, Artemis finally let himself think things over. Butler had died mere hours earlier, and it had been his fault. If he were sure he would be allowed to live, he would let himself shed a few tears, but with the prospect of having to follow his old manservant any minute, he forced himself not to cry.

Hours passed, and Artemis's fine linen suit got soaked with sweat. He longed for a cool shower or just a handkerchief to wipe his beading forehead, but he was given nothing but solitude.

He must have spent at least seven or eight hours in the dark, smelly little room when finally he heard steps. It was already dusk outside, but just as hot as it had been at noon.

The door of his room opened and someone switched on the light, then closed the door. For a few seconds, Artemis blinked against the sudden brightness, but as his vision cleared, he saw a woman of unearthly beauty. Still, it wasn't a beauty that would excite him or make him all fluttery inside… it was an ice-queen sort of beauty that made a shiver run down his spine.

"Here, I've brought you something to eat and drink," she said in a raspy voice.

Artemis immediately recognised the voice. "It was you," he said. "The one who told them to stop."

She nodded. "Yeah. You can thank me for keeping you alive."

"Well, thank you," Artemis replied coldly. "But I presume you did it for something in return… I think I heard you saying that you could use me, but I'm not sure… I was close to fainting, I might as easily have imagined it."

"No, you did not," she said, and suddenly something sharp glinted in her hand.

Artemis jerked back, seeing that it was a knife.

"Oh, come on, do you think I saved you then, to kill you now?" She rolled her eyes and he perceived that her eyes were heavily pencilled and she wore dark purple eye-shadow. The eye-shadow and the pencil enhanced her black eyes to look enormous and mesmerising, like a pair of deep, dark pools. With the mascara she looked older than she really was – Artemis assumed that she must have been three-four years older than him, but the mascara made her look at least twenty-seven. "I'm just trying to cut your binds."

"Cut my binds?" Artemis echoed her words.

"Why, do you want me to feed you like a baby?" she asked with an amused stare.

"No. Of course not."

"Then stand still and let me cut them."

"Aren't you a bit afraid that I might attack you if you undo my binds?"

The woman let out a short, shrill laugh. "Attack me? There are four heavily armed guards standing outside, and as soon as they hear something suspicious, they will burst in on us and shoot you."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. And now, tuck in."

The woman sat down on the small bed and watched as he ate. He didn't eat much but drank a lot, as in heat most people don't really feel hungry.

"Finished," Artemis announced five minutes later. "Are you going to bind me now?"

"No, not yet," she said with a secretive smile that, instead of giving Artemis heart, made him feel as though a bucketful of ice had been spilled into his stomach. "First I want to test you, and for that test, you'll be needing your hands, Artemis."

"So you know my name. But I don't know yours. Or… wait, I think I remember… Delylah, right? It was your father who wanted to have me killed, and he named you Delylah."

"Right, genius boy." She smiled, just as coldly as ever.

Artemis arched an eyebrow at her. "So you know I'm a genius?"

"Everybody knows that. You're famous, after all… But I believe someone like you should be famous for other things than smuggling weaponry. Like… inventing things and winning science awards… to make your wife proud."

"I'm not married," Artemis said. "And I have been inventing things… I just never showed them to anyone."

"Well, you should. You could make money of that instead of taking my father's customers."

"Aha, so that's what you want of me: to swear that I'll stop gunrunning. But you don't need to worry, I have decided to stop it – if I get out of here alive, that is."

"It all depends on you," she said with a furtive, challenging smile.

"You mean the test, right? What kind of a test is it?"

"First you need to get clean," she said, standing up from the bed and walking to one of the doors – not the one she had entered through, but the other one. She fished a key out of her dress pocket and opened the door with it. "In here," she instructed Artemis.

The Irishman stood up from his chair and peered into the adjacent room to see that it was some kind of a bathroom. "Wonderful, I was feeling all grimy," he muttered and entered, but doubled back in the doorframe. "Am I getting clean clothes as well?"

"You won't be needing those for a while," she replied with a smirk.

Not knowing what to make of her smirk, he shut the door behind him and started to undress in the hope that she'd get him something clean to wear by the time he's finished with his bath.

However, time passed, and no matter how hard Artemis listened, he didn't hear the door creak that would signal that someone was bringing him something to wear. After having soaked for about twenty minutes, Artemis dried himself in the only towel he found (a rather small one that barely reached around his waist) and exited the bathroom.

"Er… I was hoping for some clean clothes, you know," he told Delylah who was still sitting on the bed, looking rather contented.

"And I told you that you wouldn't be needing those for a while," she replied in a patronising voice that suggested that she was talking to a three-year-old, not a genius.

Artemis knitted his eyebrows. "I thought you meant that I wouldn't be needing clothes as long as I'm taking a bath. But I'm finished with that."

"I see." She nodded but didn't budge.

"When am I getting clean clothes?" he demanded, getting more and more nervous about having to hold the tiny towel that would surely fall off if he let go of it for a single second.

"You'll be getting some, once you've passed the test. If you pass it, that is," she replied, her lips again tucking into a smirk.

"And if I don't?"

"Then you can get your old, dirty and sweaty clothes back, and you'll be shot, genius boy. And just to remind you: you're the prisoner here, and I'm the mistress. You don't have a right to demand things of me. I could have left you without food and drink for days if I wanted to. I could have let you die. You're at my mercy, Artemis. Keep that in mind and behave accordingly."

The Irishman gulped. He didn't remember ever having been talked to in such a fashion. It was usually him who talked down to people. It was usually him who had others at his mercy. He didn't like the sudden change of things. Not a bit.

"Right, Mistress," he said heavily. "So, what's the test I need to pass?"

"Sex," she replied simply.

"Excuse me?" Artemis blinked.

"I told you: sex."

"What? Right now? Here?"

"Why did you think I told you that you wouldn't be needing your clothes?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"But… but…"

"Stop gaping like a fish, it doesn't suit you. Come." She extended her hand, beckoning him to the bed she was sitting on.

"I can't believe this…" Artemis muttered.

"You don't need to believe it, just come," she said, more firmly this time.

"But… what about the guards outside?" he tried to reason. "You said they'd be bursting in on us if they hear something… suspicious. And no doubt they'd be hearing something if we…"

"Don't worry about that, the guards know I like sex and they fear my father too much to try and disturb me when I'm having fun."

The world was reeling around Artemis. What had he got himself into? Butler dead, he's exposed to the whims of a nympho and if he didn't perform, he'd be killed. And what if he did perform, and still got killed? What if this woman only wanted him for a little fun and then she'd throw him away, let him be killed? If he got killed either way, then why obey her at all?

"What do you expect of me?" he asked darkly. "You'll get me killed either way, so why should I pleasure you before I die? No, Lady, Artemis Fowl the Second isn't your puppet to play with."

"Is he not?" She arched an eyebrow at him with a sarcastic smile. "I doubt that. And who told you that I'd get you killed either way?"

"It's only logical," he hissed.

"Then your logic's getting faulty, genius boy," she said, standing up. "No, I won't have you killed either way. If you manage to please me, even if just a little bit, you get to stay alive, and I will find another way for you to serve me. Another way for you to… show your gratitude that I let you live."

Artemis shuddered, and instinctively wrapped his arms around his shivering body. At the moment he released the towel, it slipped to the ground, and even though he ducked after it and quickly fastened it around himself again, that single second of his involuntary exhibitionism had been enough for Delylah to start grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Feeling his face turn ruby red, Artemis looked away. "What are you planning to do with me if I… pass your test?"

"Well…" She walked up to him, winding her arms around his neck, "I've had enough of this climate. Too hot, you know… For years I've been dreaming about moving to the north… Ireland would be an ideal place for me to settle down…" She inched closer, brushing her lips against his. "You could take me there…"

Trying not to think, trying to close all disturbing thoughts out of his mind and concentrate on surviving, Artemis let her steer him to the bed and push him gently down on it.

With a few deliberate tugs she got rid of her clothes, and Artemis couldn't help but gulp and look away, blushing even more.

"Ooooh… I see now," she whispered, running a finger along his left cheek, down the side of his neck. "You're a virgin. How cute…"

Artemis chanced a glance at her and forced himself not to turn his eyes away. "Cute? I doubt that, madam. At eighteen lots of young men are still virgins. I don't think there's anything cute about it."

"But there is something cute about you," she said in a husky voice, her hand continuing its travel down his chest to his waistline. With a quick tug she pulled his towel off and tossed it aside. "I like you, Artemis Fowl. And if you value your life a bit, then you do everything in your power to please me now." She bent down and caught his lips in a kiss, and the tear he had held back when thinking of Butler's death finally found its way down his cheek.

Hours later Artemis woke to see a man looking down at him. He instinctively reached out for the covers to jerk them over his naked chest.

"Well, awake at last, I see," the man said in a chit-chatty voice. Artemis recognised him as the rival gunrunner – Delylah's father. Delylah herself was nowhere to be seen.

Artemis gathered his courage to speak up. "Did she send you to tell me that she wants me dead, eventually?"

"No." The balding man shook his head. "Quite the contrary. And actually, she didn't even send me – I came because I wanted to talk to you."

"Talk to me? What about?" Artemis grunted, sitting up. He had never felt so embarrassed before: naked under the blanket, and conversing with the father of the girl he'd just shagged. And to cap it all, the father of the shagged girl seemed downright cheerful. Perhaps he didn't know what had taken place here between him and Delylah?

"About my daughter," the man said. "She came to me about an hour ago and told me something that appalled me, to say the least."

I doubt it appalled you to hear that she slept with me, Artemis thought bitterly. That woman must have slept with dozens of men, she seemed to be very experienced… However, politeness required that Artemis ask: "What appalled you, sir?"

"My daughter told me she loved you."

"WHAT?" Artemis gasped.

"I know, I know, I was just as shocked as you are, and I couldn't believe it either." The gangster waved. "But my daughter looked serious. In her own weird… well, perverted way, she does love you. It was a… what'd you call it? Love at first sight?"

"That's insane." Artemis shook his head. "She doesn't love me, you can be sure of it, sir. And what if she does? Does that change anything? Does that mean you're going to release me?"

"Yes, under one condition, Mr Fowl."

"And what is that?" Artemis demanded.

"You marry her."

"I… what?"

"Marry her. Here, in this very city. It's going to be a small ceremony, but valid, even in Ireland. After the wedding, you will be released and free to return to your home, with your new wife," Delylah's father explained in a voice that suggested he thought that a forced marriage was the most natural thing in the world. "You're going to be a good and caring husband to her. Because if not…"

"If not?" Artemis's eyes narrowed. He didn't like conditions. He'd never liked them. Conditions always meant that something unpleasant was about to come.

"Well, my young friend, you must know that I'm a powerful man. And not only in the Middle-East. I have friends in Ireland too. In the Irish police and jurisdiction. Should my daughter be… unsatisfied with you, should I hear a single world of complaint from her, you will be on your way to the nearest prison, facing a trial for gunrunning. And don't even dream of denouncing me to the police, because you can't prove I've ever put a toe out of line. You might be a genius, sonny, but you're not nearly as powerful as I am. I have connections everywhere, and all I need to do is make a phone call. So behave, young Artemis, and you shall live. You will be a married man with a slightly… whimsical wife, but you'll be alive and grateful for it."

Artemis opened his mouth to say something, but the man waved to silence him. "Before you ask, I do not intend to put my hands on your money. I'm richer than you could ever hope to be. All I want of you is to make my only daughter happy. It isn't that much of a request, is it?"

Though somewhat reluctantly, Artemis shook his head.

"Good. I'll have a servant bring you some clothes. A tuxedo, for example… I'll ring the local registrar, and if you have your papers with you, we could have the ceremony over with in two or three hours. Until then, good-bye, Mr Fowl."

The balding man exited the room, leaving Artemis alone with his thoughts… alone with his despair. He couldn't believe what this man was expecting of him! To marry that… that… nymphomaniac witch! To be her puppy for the rest of his life!

He had never felt so humiliated before. And yet, he couldn't refuse. If he wanted to survive, he had to obey. Artemis Fowl, humble servant and henpecked husband of a gangster's daughter. Ridiculous!

But after all, he was a genius. He might work out something later – something to get rid of Delylah in a way that wouldn't risk his health and wealth…

Half an hour later he put on the tuxedo brought to him and let a gorilla lead him downstairs, where Delylah was waiting for him, wearing a simple white dress and a radiant smile. When she smiled like this, she wasn't even that repulsive…

And still, Artemis couldn't believe that he had been married to this woman for eight years now. Why hadn't he got divorced? With his immense intelligence, he surely would have been able to find a way to free himself of this unwanted marriage… He would have found a way to make Delylah get bored of him but not make Father-in-law mad at him at the same time… So why hadn't he done something? Or had he done something that didn't work out?

"I'm leaving!" Juliet announced, her face red with fury.

"What?" Artemis asked. "But why?"

"Why? Are you asking me WHY?" she bellowed at him. "Your precious wife is driving me crazy, that's why! No matter what I do, nothing, I repeat, nothing is good enough for her! After Dom died I stayed here out of sympathy for you, I turned down an offer to join a wrestling club in the USA, and what for? To be talked down to by a stuck-up, idiotic excuse of a mistress? Oh, lucky that Angeline Fowl never saw this, wonder what she would say to her little daughter-in-law! I think she'd be running away, screaming – yes, that's what she'd be doing, and I'd completely understand her! There wasn't a single day since you brought this… this… woman to Fowl Manor that I didn't think of your mother and what she would have said! She had always wanted you to marry some decent girl, and according to the ceremony of the Catholic church, but what did you do instead? You married a bitch, without the blessing of any church, and you're letting her ruin everything!"

"What exactly is she ruining?" Artemis asked innocently. So far his wife had only requested a room for herself and occasionally criticised Juliet's cooking. But of course, he couldn't have known how Delylah had been treating Juliet behind his back…

"My life! That's what she's ruining, Artemis!" the blonde woman snapped. "She's treating me like I was the lowliest kind of servant, like I was a rug she could wipe her feet on, but tell you what, I'm no rug! I'm a self-respecting person who's had enough! I've endured her for three weeks for your sake, but enough is enough! I've phoned the wrestling club and told them that I'm on. I already have my ticket to the States, and you can't stop me!" With that Juliet bent down and picked up a pair of suitcases and headed for the front door. At the door she turned back. "Just a friendly piece of advice, Arty. Get rid of her. As soon as possible, or she'll drive you mad too. Domovoi wouldn't want his master to spend the rest of his life as a lady-tyrant's puppet." Her features softened and suddenly she looked almost sisterly. "He loved you like a son, Arty. And he gave his life for you. Don't let anyone ruin your life, or Dom has died in vain."

She turned on her heels and marched out. Artemis hadn't seen her ever since.

Juliet had been right, Artemis mused. He should have long got rid of his 'wife'. Why hadn't he done it? Why?

Mrs. Jones, the latest housekeeper, was running down the stairs at a speed that seemed almost incredible for someone her age. She was carrying a big red duffel bag in her arm, and her lips were moving silently, as though she were talking to herself.

"Mrs. Jones?" Artemis called to her at the bottom of the staircase.

The elderly woman looked up and he saw that she was almost shocked to see him.

"Where are you going, Mrs. Jones?"

"Anywhere, just away from here," she said sharply. "The devil is residing in his house, I'm not staying here a single second longer!"

"But… but…"

The old lady didn't even give him a second glance but dashed past him, out of the house.

And this had been the fourth housekeeper that Delylah had driven away. Because he had no doubt that it had been her doing. She wasn't getting along with anyone, especially the females. In all honesty, Artemis couldn't blame Juliet and the other three housekeepers for fleeing. He would have fled long ago if he weren't afraid.

Day after day he tried persuading himself that today Delylah would finally get bored of him and leave or he would find some other way to be rid of her, but so far no brainwave had come. Not that he wasn't a genius anymore – oh, he was. And he was working diligently on various inventions in the hope of winning prizes – Delylah had told him she wanted to be proud of him, after all. And her wishes had to be fulfilled or dear Father-in-law would send word to the Irish police that his son-in-law had been a really, really bad boy…

Sometimes even Artemis thought that he deserved his fate. He had been driven by his greed and in the hope of gold he lost his only true friend, Butler, and was humiliated in front of a bunch of musclemen and a gangster's daughter. And this gangster's daughter kept humiliating him ever since.

There wasn't a single day, not a single hour when she didn't remind him that she was in control of his life and that he didn't have a choice but to obey her. And he did. He worked day and night on his gadgets to bring glory to the name of Fowl because she wanted it so. He had removed the automatic sealing mechanism from his bedroom door so that his wife could enter whenever she felt like getting intimate with him. And she felt like it every day. Sometimes more than once a day.

After a mere five months of marriage, Artemis had learnt to hate sex and was grateful for that one week every month when his wife left him alone – thank God for giving women periods!

In the remaining three weeks of the month, he learnt to act like a machine and just do it, without thinking. Or just do it, while thinking of metaphysics. He would think of anything but her. Sometimes she noticed the vacant look in his eyes and questioned him, but he would never admit that he was analysing Einstein's relativity theory while she was screaming his name.

After a while he even got immune to her screams. She was a bit loud in bed, so what? If he was concentrating on reciting Newton's laws, he could completely block out the noises of the outside world. No one existed, but him and the laws of physics.

Sometimes he diverted his thoughts from having sex by weaving theories of how he could make an essence that, if drunk by Delylah, would dampen her desire and would probably make him less attractive to her. If there was no other way, he could invent something with an effect like that… It might take him months, perhaps even years, but it would be worth, no doubt…

"Mrs. Jones has left," he told his wife morosely that evening. Delylah, however, didn't seem sad in the least about the news.

"She was a narrow-minded old crook anyway," she said, smiling brightly. "I told you already when the first housekeeper left that we shouldn't employ another one. From now on, we're going to have our meals brought from the nearest hotel. It might be a bit more expensive, but…"

"I don't care about the money you spend on meals, but what about the rest of the chores, huh? Like vacuum-cleaning, doing the washing up… Who will be doing those? You, perhaps?"

"Me?" She looked disgusted. "What are you thinking of me? Doing hard house-work? Especially in my condition?"

"Are you sick or something?" Artemis crossed his arms.

"No, dearest," she said. The furious expression disappeared from her face and she was practically beaming like the sun at the zenith. "We're going to have a baby! Isn't that wonderful?"

Artemis forced himself not to grimace. "I'm not surprised, to say the least. You've been keeping me as a stud."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked with her arms akimbo.

"Nothing, nothing at all," he sighed. "I'm off to finish Project 23. You know, the one that might win me a Nobel Prize."

"You don't sound too happy about this baby…" she said in a reproachful voice.

Artemis turned back from the door. "I'm not even sure it's mine," he said simply, and left before she could have reacted.

Did he have Nobel prizes? – Artemis wondered. Yes, now he remembered. He had two of them. In his other life he had three. He presumed that the reason for having less Nobel Prizes in this life was that in his original life he had invented things for his own pleasure and fame. In this life he did it to please someone he normally didn't like pleasing at all.

Great, he snorted. Those prizes were undoubtedly the only good things in this life… But if they indeed made Delylah happy, then they weren't good things after all. Nothing was good as long as she was happy.

Have I ever finished that anti-love-potion? – he thought. No, I haven't. Half-finished. If I stayed any longer in this life, I would surely finish it… but I don't intend to stay longer than a few days...

With a sudden thought he got up from the bed and headed for his lab. It was time to start tinkering with the time machine.

o o o O O O o o o

He spent hours in the lab whose door was hidden behind a tapestry. Artemis assumed that his 'wife' didn't know its location, so he'd surely be able to work undisturbed here.

He took the machine apart and examined every little part thoroughly in the hope of finding the solution. What kind of a component was he supposed to add to make it work like he wanted it to work?

However hard he tried, the brainwave failed to come. After hours of futile tinkering, he collapsed into the only armchair in the room and fell asleep in exhaustion.

And then the dreams came… but these weren't dreams of this life… they were of his other, 'normal' life. They were of a healthy mother enthusiastically showing his uninterested son a pretty knitting pattern; they were of a living father discussing business with him; they were of a son who actually loved him… and they were of an elf woman's heart-melting smile.

When Artemis awoke, it was already dark outside, and he found himself desperately hanging onto the last fragments of his dream in which Holly had been snuggling with him under Their Oak Tree, her auburn hair tickling his chin as she bent her head on his chest… They hadn't been wearing a thing, their bodies intertwined in post-coital bliss… and he'd felt happy. He'd been in love, and he'd actually enjoyed making love to Holly…

However, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto these pleasant memories, they slipped away, faded into nothingness, and a darker memory crept into his mind: himself lying motionless in a bed, his wife Delylah drawing circles with her index-finger on his bare chest, purring contentedly. He was impassively staring upwards, establishing that the roof must have leaked in the latest downpour as there were nasty yellowish smudges on the otherwise white ceiling. He needed to hire someone to repair the roof and repaint the ceiling…

As always, in this memory, he was thinking of irrelevant things just to forget that a black-haired demon was lying in his arms.

Artemis shook his head in disgust. This life wasn't a life at all. A man, being unable to get rid of his annoying, possessive wife was simply unimaginable for him. And yet, here he was, being that very man. The epitome of a henpecked husband.

I've got to think of something… got to, he told himself, glancing at the time machine that lay in hundreds of pieces on the desk. I can't live this life… not with Delylah… and especially, not without Holly…

At this thought, some invisible force clenched at his gullet, sending an unpleasant feeling into the pit of his stomach. He couldn't live without Holly. And he missed his son – his real son – immensely too.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow I'm going to get up early and I will find the solution. I just need a good night's sleep, that's all…

But that night, he didn't get sleep at all…

o o o O O O o o o

He was in bed already, close to falling asleep, when the door of his bedroom opened. Artemis stirred, annoyed at being disturbed just when he was about to drop off.

Someone switched on the lights, and Artemis lifted his arms before his eyes to block out the sudden brightness. "What the…?" he murmured, blinking, to get used to the light.

"You've been away so long…" a female voice said huskily.

That isn't a good reason for you to disturb me so late in the evening, Artemis fumed as he slowly lowered his arms. What he saw there made him choke.

Delylah was standing at a mere arm's length from his bed, wearing a tiny, transparent night-dress that left very little to imagination. Surely she wasn't here because she wanted to…?

"Er… listen, Delylah, I'm really… really tired, and…"

She silenced him, placing her index-finger on his lips. "You can be never tired enough for a bit of snuggling, can you?"

If only it were just about snuggling, Artemis thought as she flopped down on the bed next to him.

"Well?" she asked in a demanding tone, indicating that she was expecting an answer from him.

'Should I hear a single world of complaint from her, you will be on your way to the nearest prison.'

Artemis gulped. If he got into prison, there was no way he could put things right. Not to mention that spending the rest of his life in jail was the worst thing he could imagine – even worse than giving his 'wife' a bit of faked attention.

"You're right," he said, his voice somewhat shaky. "I'm not that tired."

"I knew you weren't," she cooed, running a finger down his chest.

Think of Holly. Imagine it's her… "Would you mind if we switched off the light?" Artemis suggested.

She gave him a questioning stare.

"I just… want to feel you now," he said with a forced smile.

"Naughty thoughts, Artemis?" she laughed, and slipped off the bed to turn off the lights.

The room went completely dark again, and only a slight movement of the bedspring indicated that she'd joined him under the covers.

Imagine Holly… Imagine her, and don't think of anything else! And pray that you'll never have to tell her about this…

o o o O O O o o o

"Holly!" Artemis moaned as he collapsed, totally spent.

For a few seconds everything was silent, then a female voice said sharply: "Who's Holly?"

Again a few seconds of silence issued, then finally a male voice sighed: "No one."

The bedsprings creaked as Delylah too sat up. "No one?"

"I said no one!" Artemis snapped. "I was about to shout 'holy heavens', but my vocal cords failed me in mid-sentence as I… you know."

"Holy heavens, indeed?" she sounded incredulous. "It sounded like 'holly', not 'holy' to me…"

"It was holy," he sighed, and fighting down the urge to be sick, he reached out to her in the darkness to pull her into his arms. He had to play, at all costs. "It felt so good, you know…" he whispered into her hair.

She seemed to relax in his arms, contented with the reply. "You scared me, silly," she muttered. "I thought… I thought you were cheating on me with someone! It felt bad enough when you accused me of having lovers when I was pregnant with Arty… You know that it was all false accusation, I've been faithful to you ever since we got married… But… this was much worse. I couldn't bear the thought of you having someone else!"

"Don't worry about it… your Artemis never slept with anyone else," he said heavily, and for once he knew he wasn't lying. The Artemis in this life didn't even dare look at another woman.

"Glad to hear," she whispered, pecking his cheek and slipping out of the bed.

In a minute the door closed, and Artemis was left alone, with only his dark thoughts to accompany him. He felt used. Humiliated. Abused. Practically raped.

'Who's Holly?' 'No one.'

The invisible hand again started compressing his gullet, settling like a heavy weight on his chest, pressing it until a sob escaped his lips.

"What have I done?" he whispered in the darkness, a single tear coursing down his cheek. "Oh, Holly, what have I done?"

o o o O O O o o o

A/N: and now, feel free to hate Delylah. I surely do. I don't think I ever hated a female original character of mine this much before… no, not even Tatyana in 'The Greatest Shame a Wizard Could Suffer'…

REVIEW, PLEASE!