Cheesiness coming up! Enjoy!

Chapter Four: Work, Labour, Employment

'But it's midday, I can't go out at midday.' Her voice is urgent and her hands fist in the light fabric of her dress.

'Yes, you can,' he says, expression uncharacteristically kind. 'You don't have to worry about that anymore, you know that.'

She sighs, 'I do know, but...' she licks her lips, 'I'm scared.'

He pauses, unsure how to respond. She isn't the one who gets scared. She is the one who looks down at an encroaching demon army and says 'It'll be fine. We're going to be fine. Really.'. Worried yes, but not scared. He reaches out and, fingers trembling, brushes her cheek.

Her wide eyes snap to his face, staring at him over his fingers.

'I'm being pretty silly, aren't I?' she whispers against his hand.

His stomach clenches at the feel of her breath against his skin. All he can see are his pale fingers outlined against her dark face. As though the world is only their shadows and light.

'No,' he whispers as well. He feels as though he is in a church; as though he were a peasant six hundred years ago entering at last, after months of walking, some great cathedral and falling to his knees in awe below the stained glass and impossible arches. To speak loudly would be profane.

She takes a step towards him and he feels his breath hitch, the peasant's gasp of wonder as the doves rise, suddenly disturbed, into the dusty sunlight above the pews.

Like the doves, she is easily startled. She stops, steps away, shakes her head mutely. Slowly she backs up until she is framed in the open door, her shadow thrown onto the floor, its head at his feet.

'I can't.'

'You'd rather the sun?'

She laughs, but it's laced with hysteria. 'It's safer.'

'It used to make you sick.' He is aware of his hypocrisy.

'So did you,' she says, and goes out into the sun.

Oddly, the thought cheers him.

At noon, Butler returns to fetch his favourite catatonic duo.

'Rise and shine kids, it's lunch time.'

'Unnnnng,' comes Holly's eloquent rebuttal.

'Seconded,' Artemis mumbles into his pillow.

'Sorry, but I'm afraid it's time for Holly to meet the family. It's about time your father knew what was up, Artemis.'

The boy sits up, looking uncharacteristically rumpled. His hair sticks out at odd angles, his eyes are bleary, his shirt is a disgrace and his trousers are nearly unsalvageable. Butler tsks like a mother hen. 'You look a mess, go take a quick shower before we head for lunch,' he says to the boy.

'Just who, exactly, works for whom here?' gripes Artemis as he slowly works his way off the bed.

Butler just makes a shooing gesture and turns back to Holly, an all together more difficult task. Thus ignored, Artemis slouches back to his own room.

'You know, Holly,' Butler sits down beside her on the bed, 'that's the second time I've come in to find you two sharing a bed.'

Instantly awake, Holly flips onto her back and glares. 'It's not like that and you know it.'

'Oh really?' Butler raises an eyebrow, 'Are you sure?'

'Butler,' Holly bolts upright, 'don't-'

But just what Butler shouldn't do the world will never know as, at that precise moment, he seizes his chance, grabs Holly under the arms, and lifts her bodily off of the bed. Slinging her ignominiously over his shoulder he escorts her, ever the gentleman, to her bathroom and delivers her right into the tub.

'Shower first, refutation later,' he says and points to the taps.

'Underhanded devil,' Holly replies, trying hard not to laugh.

'Only in the mornings,' he smiles, 'We'll wait for you in the hall.'

Truth be told, the shower does her a world of good. There really isn't anything like hot water and soap to make everything seem a little bit more hopeful. And, covering herself in lather as sunlight comes pouring through the high windows, glinting off white porcelain and silver, Holly has to admit that this is one of the best showers she's ever had.

She joins them in the hall, smelling like wildflowers and looking nearly as colourful. Self-coconsciously she pulls at her dress. 'I feel a bit like No. 1 in that muumuu,' she admits.

'Well,' Butler replies truthfully, 'you look much better.'

'That's not saying much,' Holly retorts.

Artemis doesn't express an opinion on the matter. Mostly because he's afraid it would come out sounding something like: 'Holly, you could make Mulch's beard look attractive.' And that will really never do.

The Fowls parents are eating in the solarium, accompanied by a solitary bodyguard. Holly eyes the man with professional consideration. Younger, shorter, and slighter than Butler, he fits solidly into the 'average' range. His hair is thick and dark, how Holly assumes Butler's would be if he let it grow.

She twists her neck to look back at Butler. 'Why's there only one bodyguard for the both of them? Is he a Butler too?'

'Of course he is,' Butler replies. 'My third cousin, actually. He was working in Monte Carlo, but when Juliet left for Mexico, we needed someone for Angeline and Mr. Fowl. They've decided to that with Mr. Fowl's shift into aboveboard enterprise, they don't need quite so many of us hanging around.'

'Huh,' Holly nods thoughtfully.

As the threesome approaches, Artemis Senior looks at Holly from over his tea cup with unconcealed curiousity. 'I didn't realise we were expecting guests,' he says.

'I'm so sorry, darling,' Angeline smiles brightly, 'I utterly forgot to mention it. This is Holly, she, ah, works with Arty.'

Artemis Senior raises a sceptical eyebrow at the young woman. Is she even legal yet? Then again, is Arty? 'You work with my son, do you, Miss, ah- ?'

'Short. Holly Short. And, er, yes, I do.' Holly shrugs mentally, it's true after all.

Artemis Sr. doesn't comment on the aptness of her surname, instead, ever the charmer, stands to pull out a chair for her. 'How lovely. What, pray tell, is your area of expertise? Pardon my saying so, but you don't look nearly old enough to be one of Artemis' usual collaborators.'

'I'm in law enforcement,' Holly smiles beatifically.

Artemis' father blinks. 'Law enforcement?' he repeats, dumbfounded. She smiles up at him, the picture of innocence. Mentally, she's cackling. There's nothing like absolutely mystifying a Fowl to put a smile on Holly's face.

'She's joking, Father,' Artemis replies, hurriedly changing the subject, 'I didn't realise our raspberries were ready yet, how lovely.'

'Oh, they're absolutely delicious,' his mother agrees. 'You must try some, Holly.'

Holly takes the proffered bowl and ignores Artemis Senior's puzzled eyes following her every move.

'Law enforcement?' he repeats to himself, utterly baffled by this latest addition to his family circle.

So now Holly is lying in the grass as, some distance away, the older Fowls relax with their various newspapers in the shade of a gazebo. She is fully exposed to the sky, shocked at the strength of her audacity, watching the sun make patterns on the back of her eyelids. Maybe, if she doesn't think about anything but the warmth of the sun and the sharp scent of crushed grass, everything will be alright.

Suddenly there is a shadow over her and darkness covers her face, depriving her of her light show. 'Are you Artemis' friend?' asks a voice from above.

Holly cracks one eye open. Two big eyed, button nosed faces are right next to hers.

'Ack!' She scrambles to her feet, still ungraceful in her longer limbs. She curses mentally, Frond, human hearing is terrible.

'You needn't be alarmed. I'm Myles and this,' Myles gestures disdainfully, 'is Beckett. We're Artemis' younger brothers.'

Holly relaxes as comprehension dawns. Butler had told her about these two. 'Chip off the old block aren't you, Myles?' she laughs at his frown. 'And don't you two have a nanny or something?'

'Nanny went potty!' Beckett tells her gleefully.

'And you thought you'd take advantage of the situation and beat it?' Holly surmises. To herself she thinks: Is it bad that I find the normal-sounding kid to be the oddity here?

Myles purses his lips. 'Beckett, must you–'

'Buttafly!' Beckett interrupts joyfully, hurtling down the incline after the delicate white insect.

'Oops!' Holly goes after him, 'be careful, this grass is slippery!'

Right on cue, Beckett's feet slide out from under him and he rolls the remaining inches to level ground.

'Oh d'Arvit!' she rushes forward but trips on her hem and goes tumbling down to join Beckett in a heap at the bottom.

Heaving a hefty sigh, Myles follows them, sedately walking down on two feet.

Beckett hiccups, his lips quivering as he opens them to wail.

'Oh no, no, it's okay kiddo. Shh, shhh,' Holly scoops him up onto her hip as she stands, swaying them both gently back and forth, her eyes nearly as wide as his at the thought of a crying child. Childcare is really not her forte.

Beckett moans piteously.

'Oh stop, you didn't break anything,' Myles tells him contemptuously, eyeing his brother's position enviously. 'If I pretend to hurt myself, will you carry me too?'

'Not pretennin!' Beckett returns indignantly.

'Chip off the old block in more ways than just the obnoxiously large vocabulary,' Holly mutters, rolling her eyes. 'Don't bother faking it. Here, jump on my back. It'll be good exercise for me, if nothing else.'

Artemis Senior is pouring tea for his wife when an odd silhouette breasts the hill leading down to the flower gardens. The Butlers, hanging about, tense as one buts as the shape approaches, they pause in confusion. It appears to be-

'Is that Holly?' Angeline asks.

'Oh, for goodness sake,' Artemis rises, 'they've attacked her.'

Artemis Senior watches as his son strides off towards what is now barely discernable as a girl apparently buried beneath his twin sons.

'Who exactly is Holly, if you don't mind me asking?' He turns to his wife, 'Truthfully now, darling. Please.'

'A friend of your son,' Angeline replies innocently.

'Of all my sons, apparently,' he muses. 'I didn't realise Artemis, ah, had any friends of the female gender. Actually, I wasn't aware that Artemis had any friends at all.'

'He has several,' replies Butler, feeling the need to defend his charge.

'Really now?' Artemis Senior muses, watching his son take Myles off Holly's back and gallantly offer to take Beckett as well. He can't hear what she says, but her sceptical look is obvious enough, even from where he sits. Artemis puts Myles on the ground and crosses his arms, clearly insulted. Holly's weight shifts and she leans back, her hip bones jutting aggressively beneath Beckett's legs. Artemis Senior raises his eyebrows, 'They look more like argumentative siblings than friends to me.'

Butler smiles, 'It's good for Artemis to have someone who will talk back to him.'

'I see,' the man continues watching the unfolding drama of the piggy back, 'Just when exactly did she arrive, again? And why?'

Angeline thinks of how best to phrase their vague cover story, 'She arrived about a day ago. But she was utterly jetlagged. She's having some trouble with, ah, her papers, so I offered her a place to stay until things sorted themselves out.'

'Papers? Where's she from?'

'Ah...' Angeline pauses, looking at Butler for help.

'South,' Butler replies.

'How precise,' Artemis Senior raises an eyebrow.

'Well,' Butler returns, unfazed, 'she does work with your son.'

Artemis Senior concedes the point with a nod of his head. 'Interesting colouring she has, though. I wonder what her ancestry is.'

'Well, I'm sure you'll be very polite, however, and refrain from poking about in the poor girl's business. Won't you, Timmy?' his wife asks, mild as milk.

'Of course, darling,' he agrees brightly, looking vaguely miffed.

Time passes strangely over the next week. There are moments when everything seems to have come to a standstill and Holly closes her eyes, begging for the hour to be over. And for the next and the next and the next, until enough have gone by that her eyes will close of their own accord and she will fall into blessed unconsciousness.

Then there are others when she looks back over the day and wonders how on earth all that fitted into what seemed only a few minutes. She loses track of whole days, they vanish into the hazy grey of heartache, while seconds last for eternity, clear cut and bright, like insects caught in amber.

Slowly, in stops and starts, she begins to acclimatise. Flushing the toilet, for example, which at first she simply didn't think of and then, once she did, refused to do, she now does with no more than a momentary grimace.

Other things, however, she has yet to come to terms with.

'Frond, Butler, what's that smell?' She covers her nose with her hand. 'It reeks.'

Butler sniffs the air. 'It's lamb,' he tells her, 'with rosemary and garlic, from what I can tell. That'll be Pierre starting dinner.'

Holly stares at him, horrified. 'Lamb?' she repeats.

'You know, baby sheep.'

'Yes, I realise. You people eat baby sheep?' her faces takes on such a look of revulsion that even Butler, who loves lamb, feels vaguely queasy.

'Holly, I'm sorry, but humans eat meat.'

'I'll be right back,' she says, running from the room.

Butler frowns, and follows. He finds her throwing up into a toilet down the hall. He stands in the doorway, helpless.

'Holly... I'm sorry. I didn't realise it would affect you so badly. I shouldn't have been so flippant.' He wets a cloth and hands it to her.

'I can't,' she says.

'You don't have to, there are lots of vegetarians in the world.'

'No, I mean, I can't do this,' she gestures to the world at large, 'be this. Baby sheep!' she repeats a little wildly.

'We don't always eat cute things, you know.'

'I know, sometimes you eat endangered ones, or gentle ones, or, or...' she looks around helplessly, trying to find some way of illustrating her point. 'We can talk to them you know. You can't eat someone you talk to.'

'I... didn't realise.'

'You people never do,' Holly slumps over the toilet bowl.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean that,' she says a moment later.

'Yes, you did.'

'Well... yes, I did. But I know it isn't your fault. I don't mean to take this out on you.'

'Let's get you some water,' Butler suggests instead of responding, helping her to her feet.

Holly tries to look grateful, and not think about how even the water tastes dirty up here.

That night, dinner is not the happiest of events. Holly, as the guests, sits at Artemis Senior's right hand, across from Angeline and beside Artemis. Artemis Senior carves. He offers the first piece to Holly. On Artemis' other side, Butler winces.

Holly's eyes go wide and her face pales. It's all she can do to keep from throwing up then and there. 'I'm afraid I don't eat meat,' she manages.

Not for the first time, the head of the Fowl family looks at her in wonder. 'Oh come now, everyone needs a bit of protein in their diet. Pierre makes the finest lamb outside Greece. Just give it a little try.' He smiles encouragingly, 'After all, when in Rome...'

Holly sits frozen, wanting to be polite but too horrified to speak. Artemis Senior moves the lamb towards her, still smiling.

Suddenly, his son snatches Holly's plate out from under her. 'She doesn't eat meat, Father,' Artemis reiterates.

'Nonsense son, put the girl's plate down and let's not make a drama out of this.'

'Timmy,' Angeline speaks softly, 'let it go.'

Holly swallows. She feels humiliated and sick to her stomach. She wants to cry. She wants to punch Artemis Senior on his aristocratic nose.

The man shrugs, placing the lamb on his wife's plate instead, 'If you insist. It's really a treat though, Miss Short. Maybe next time?'

Holly forgets about politeness for a moment and gives him a look that clearly reads: over my dead body.

Beside her, Artemis winces.

'No meat neither!' pipes up Beckett from down the table. He grins madly and bangs the table with his fork. 'No meat no meat no meat!'

Angeline calmly takes his fork away and serves him some potatoes, leaving him to makes do with his spoon.

Holly looks over at Beckett. He grins at her. She smiles back before thinking.

After dinner Holly escapes as soon as possible to her room and is once again sick in the toilet. She hadn't realised it would affect her so violently. Sure, she's always known humans eat meat and that she finds that repugnant, but she's never actually had to watch anyone eat it before. It had all been just theoretical knowledge and disgust. She clutches her stomach again.

There's a knock at her door.

'Go away, Artemis,' she says.

As expected, he comes in anyway.

'I made you some tea. Well,' he admits, 'I asked Butler to make some tea. It's mint, he says it will help your stomach.' He puts the teapot on the counter and fills the cup with water. 'You might want this first though.'

Holly accepts the water gratefully, gargling and spitting out the first gulp. She pulls a face. 'I always forget how gross vomit tastes.'

Artemis doesn't feel a reply is necessary and, instead, fills her empty cup with tea.

She leans against the toilet, sitting cross legged on the floor, and cradles the cup. 'Thanks for this; just the smell is making me feel better.'

'Not at all.' Artemis pauses. 'I'm sorry about my father. He's very... enthusiastic, sometimes.'

Holly snorts softly at the understatement. Then she pauses, remembering just how far Artemis had gone to save said father. She tries to be a little gentler. 'How are things with your dad, Artemis? Are you guys getting along, after all this time?'

Artemis perches on the counter, dangling his feet. 'Oh yes, we get along very well. We spend much more time together now then we ever did before.'

'He certainly dotes on the twins.'

'Yes, he adores them.' Artemis thinks of himself at that age, and what a different approach his father had taken to parenting.

'It wasn't like that with you, was it?' Holly guesses his thoughts.

'No, it wasn't.' Artemis runs his immaculate fingernails along the porcelain, 'He didn't have as much time for Mother and me, in the old days.'

'But now?'

'Oh, now, yes. He's gone legitimate after all, mostly investing in alternative energy and the like. Endeavours that take his money, not his time. He wants me to be good,' the boy adds as an afterthought.

'What do you mean?'

Artemis purses his lips, thinking back to his father's many speeches. 'He knows I'm a criminal. He knows my morals are flexible at best. He wants me to grow to be a good man, one who doesn't hurt people. He wants me to be honourable and compassionate; to be a hero. Really, he wants me to be you.'

Holly blinks at the unexpected compliment. But Artemis hadn't intended to be complimentary; for once he has simply said what he thought.

'You do do good things, Artemis. You've saved the People who knows how many times. And your Mother? What about her? She'd still be crazy if you hadn't returned that gold to me,' Holly ticks things off on her fingers. 'And me. You've saved me.'

His lips twitch, 'None of those were entirely selfless acts. Especially not the latter.'

Holly blushes a little at his forthrightness and looks down into her cup, unable to help feeling pleased. 'Well, be that as it may, I don't see where your father gets off telling you to be good, when he was hardly a saint himself. You don't need to live up to his expectations, Artemis.'

'The irony here is incredible. You, of all people, to be the one trying so hard to raise my self-esteem.'

'You're an ass, Artemis, and you've done some really despicable things, but I don't think you're a bad person. Well, at least, not any more at any rate. Besides which, if anyone has the right to lecture you, it's me, who's had to deal with the results of your bankrupt morals and not your father, who just lies around getting his white Irish bum saved at inconvenient times. So don't let him make you feel bad. That's my job.'

Artemis laughs. Holly grins up at him from the floor.

'He isn't a bad person though, Holly, really. Please don't hate him.'

She sighs. 'I don't hate him, Artemis, I just think he's a hypocrite. Though I'm sure I'd've been nicer about what I just said if my feelings hadn't just gotten a bit bruised tonight.'

'I'm sorry about that. I'll talk to him. I didn't realise it would affect you so strongly.'

'Neither did I,' she sips her tea quietly. 'By the way, Artemis, is there a gym or something here? I really want to blow off some steam, if you know what I mean.'

Artemis tries to hide his smile, thankful that for once, at least, she isn't choosing to blow off her steam on him. 'Of course, it's on the ground floor. I'll show you.'

'Holly,' Artemis speaks suddenly, 'can you still speak Gnommish?'

'Great Mother of Frond!' Holly is losing count of the number of times Artemis has snuck up on her in the past few days. 'Don't sneak up on me when I'm punching things, Artemis, I might punch you. And it's a good thing I'm not armed or you could've had a Neutrino blast through your nasal cavity.' She wipes sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, making her hair stick up in tufts. She is wearing one of Artemis' undershirts and a pair of shorts they had found buried at the back of his closet (At Holly's sceptical look, he had explained that his father had once cherished a dream of his taking up football. A dream that had, obviously, never materialised, though the shorts lived on).

The cotton shirt is stuck to her back, sweat molding it to the lines of her shoulder blades and the knobs of her spine. She pulls at it, trying to cool herself off. 'What was your question again?

'What? Oh,' Artemis tears his eyes away from her spine, flushing slightly, 'can you still speak Gnommish?'

'Of course I can,' Holly looks puzzled. 'I think in it. Why?'

'I've been wondering about it as, clearly, we've been communicating in English, but technically the only language you will ever have studied is Gnommish. Unless the People don't take grammar courses as children, in which case, you are extremely fortunate. Anyway, I knew you couldn't have lost the entirety of your linguistic capacities since you still spoke English, but I'm curious to know the extent to which you have retained them.' Artemis looks thoughtful. 'What about Italian?'

'What about what about Italian?'

'Can you speak it?'

'Si, ragazzo mio,' recognising that it would be a while before Artemis lets her get back to her punch bag, Holly begins to stretch, to keep her muscles from seizing.

'Japanese?'

'日本語を話すことができます.'

'Slovenian?'

'Zelim dve zelene shchipauke.'

'Hindi?'

'Yes, clearly I speak-' her eyes widen and she pauses halfway to her toes. 'That was English.'

'Did you mean to speak Hindi?'

'Yes.'

Artemis purses his lips. 'Did you ever speak Hindi as an elf?'

'Eh...' Holly thinks back. 'No, I don't think so.'

'French? Did you speak French before?'

'Oui, je le parlais. En fait, j'ai passé une année à Disneyworld Paris pendant mon entrainement.'

'Really? I never knew.'

Holly shrugs, 'It never came up.'

'Alright, what about Vietnamese, did you ever speak that?'

A moment's consideration. 'No.'

'Can you now?'

She bites her lip. 'Hello, my – no, that's English again.' She straightens, crossing her arms. 'Artemis, a) what does this mean and b) what made you think of it now?'

Artemis clears his throat professorially, 'Well, I believe that as a consequence of losing your magic you may have lost those languages which you never used as an elf but that you have retained all those which you've actually spoken. After all, a language is a language: once utilised it would be imprinted in the brain.

'As to what brought it to mind, my father obviously doesn't believe you're in law enforcement, nor should he as, considering your new age, it's utterly impossible. I thought perhaps we could pass you off as an interpreter. Vaguely more probable.'

'Oh.' Holly digests this. 'You've put some thought into this, haven't you? That's... actually a really good idea. Both of them.'

'Of course they are, they're mine.'

'Oh, go jump in a lake, Arty,' she rolls her eyes, trying to keep herself from laughing.

He just smiles, quietly watching the light slide over her face as she fights down her smile.

'Will you miss them?' he asks, tentative, not wanting to damage her fragile good humour.

'Ah,' she sighs, 'yes, I will. But, let's face it, if I didn't use them in my first eighty years, I doubt I'll use them in my last. If I even get that many. It's like... mental spring cleaning, or something.'

'You're taking this very well,' he remarks.

'There's only so much you can lose, before loss kinda starts to lose its value. This is just one more thing. And what's the point? I have bigger things to worry about.'

'I'm sure you would be able to learn languages very quickly, in any case. Should you want to.'

She gives him an appreciative smile. 'Thanks, Arty. Now, would you let me get back to my practice?'

'I was actually going to ask if you wanted the password to the armoury.'

Holly freezes. 'You have an armoury?

'Well, Butler can hardly sleep with all his guns under his bed, there wouldn't be enough space.'

'Ugh, they're not all those terrible barbarian guns are they? Have you guys got anything non-lethal? I don't shoot bullets.'

Artemis leads her down a side corridor. 'I have no idea. We have got a collection of old LEP handguns but Butler really does keep those, well, not under his bed per se, but they are all over in the Manor.'

Holly shrugs, 'Nah, I'm lazy, let's see what you've got down here.'

An hour later, Holly's latest least favourite Fowl enters the gym's visitor's gallery in search of Butler. Instead, he finds a diminutive redhead working through a series of patterns, brandishing two wicked looking knives. Had he not been hospitalised in Northern Europe at the time, Artemis Senior would have been able to place the knives as one of the gifts Juliet received for her eighteenth birthday. As it is, he just blinks in amazement.

'Maybe she really is in law enforcement,' he says out loud.

'Actually, she's a pilot,' says Butler, coming up behind his employer.

'Ah! Butler, I was looking for you.' Artemis Senior turns an inquisitive eye on Holly, 'Pilot, you say?'

'Yes. She's very good. One of the best. We also use her as an interpreter from time to time,' Butler and Artemis have just put the finishing touches to Holly's employment record with the Fowls.

'She speaks more languages than my son?'

'Oh yes,' Butler smiles.

'Impressive. How old is she again?'

Butler shrugs, 'I've never asked. You know how women can get about their age.'

'She can't be older than Artemis,' the other man muses, 'but she seems... different. She carries herself like someone older. And she walks like someone trained in, well, law enforcement. Have you noticed?'

'Of course. I believe she did go through some kind of combat training at one point in her life.'

Artemis Senior shakes his head. 'Where does my son find these people? That associate of his, I'll never forget him, what was his name? Ah yes, Diggence. What a character.'

'Yes, Mr. Diggence is certainly ... unique.'

'Is she any good?' he asks suddenly.

'Holly? At what, precisely?'

Artermis Senior waves his hands vaguely. 'Well, the thing is, I've been meaning to talk to you about finding someone for Artemis. I know you don't consider yourself... suitable anymore. But I can hardly broach the subject with Artemis, he refuses to hear anything about it. And it isn't as though I'm asking you to retire. Goodness knows what would happen to this household if you were to leave us; I don't intend on ever letting you retire. But Artemis does need someone to go with him when he leaves the Manor. I know he is nearly entirely legal these days, but he still seems to get... well, into trouble. And I think it would make everyone feel better, especially you, if we knew he had someone with him. I don't... I'm not trying to offend you.'

'Not at all,' Butler smiles ruefully, 'I've thought the same thing myself, many times. It would make me feel infinitely more comfortable to know he has someone with him when he's away.' He taps his chin thoughtfully, a myriad of possibilities opening up before him. 'You know sir, you may just have something there.'

'So she's good?'

'Well,' Butler replies honestly, 'she's no Butler, but she's quick and a crack shot. And she knows Artemis. They work well together, though it doesn't always show. I could always teach her a few things here and there.'

'Then it's settled!' Artemis Senior starts forward towards the oblivious girl. A recommendation from Butler is more than enough to satisfy him.

'Er, wait a minute, sir. Why don't you let me suggest it to Artemis first? And then I'll talk to Holly. She's... ah... a little bit touchy about accepting work.'

'She's a little bit touchy about more than just that!' the other replies huffily, remembering dinner.

'If I may sir, I wouldn't try to force-feed her meat again. She's never eaten meat in her life. It's a... a religious thing.'

'A religious thing? What is she? Part of some kind of strange cult?'

'No, it's a very old religion. Very few families left, long standing traditions, a particular way of life. Very respectful of the environment, that sort of thing.'

'She's some sort of pagan?'

'No-o,' Butler replies evasively, 'it's nothing you'll ever have heard of. And it's hard to explain. I don't really know too much about it as it is. At any rate, meat is very offensive to them.'

'So, she won't eat meat, but she was trained to fight. I take it she won't kill to protect my son, then?' Artemis Senior smiles, only half-joking.

Butler, however, is serious. 'For Artemis she just might.'

Still later, up in his room, Artemis fiddles with something on his desk, rearranging wires in meaningless miniscule adjustments. He knows that the project's done, that he's just wasting time. He gives a frustrated sigh and leans back in his chair. A set of wings sits on his desk like the skeleton of some enormous, prehistoric dragonfly.

It's a project he began months ago, but never put too much thought into. Then, suddenly, there was more incentive. He has been working on them obsessively for the past few days, ever since he found her staring down from her window.

You're going to have to work for this one.

In some ways, that makes it easier. He has never shied away from effort; mental effort, at any rate. Now he can look at this whole mess as a challenge. A riddle to be solved, instead of as simply Holly and himself: the woman he loves and his many fears; of rejection; of her death; of his own inadequacy. Not to mention his uncertainty, his confusion, his inexperience, his desire, his incomprehensible neediness - the list goes on.

Artemis sighs. No, it is infinitely easier to think of it as a game. He will be good, he will be generous, he will be caring and, eventually, she will take him back. At least, if everything goes according to plan.

He checks his watch. 12:45am. She'll still be awake.

But what will she say? It's such an overt gesture. Why on earth is this worrying me? wonders Artemis, there is no possible way in which I can be more obvious than I already have been. For Frond's sake I've nearly begged her to live in the Manor. And, for the first time since this whole thing began, Artemis wonders at his lack of shame. Somehow, somewhere, he seems to have permanently abandoned his dignity without even noticing.

Biting the bullet, he slings the rig over a shoulder and goes out into the hall. It seems an eternity to her room. Just think of pulling yourself through the DNA cannons. This can't be any worse. He begins to walk. His footsteps echo off the polished wood. Debatable, he thinks.

She opens the door at his knock. 'And here I was expecting Father Christmas,' she smiles.

'Actually, I have brought you something,' he steps into the room and lays the wings down on the coffee table.

Holly's eyes widen. 'What the d'Arvit are those?'

'I should have thought you'd be able to recognise wings by now, Cap- Holly.'

'But... how? Where under the earth did you get them? They aren't standard LEP issue. Besides which, those wouldn't work, I'm too heavy now.'

'Have a little faith, Holly. First of all, you'll notice the wing span is rather larger on these. Secondly, I've incorporated a moonbelt into the harness. You'll be light as a feather.'

'You made these? For me? In three days?'

'No, it's been a pet project of mine for some time now; I've simply had an extra incentive to finish them over the past few days.'

'Don't you want them yourself?'

'What on earth would I do with wings? I'd kill myself.'

'True. Very true,' Holly runs her fingers along the delicate metalwork, a look of disbelief on her face. Then her eyes narrow, 'What would you have done with them once you finished, if I weren't here?'

'Who knows,' Artemis replies. 'They run off a solar battery, so first I would have had to patent that. And then there's the moonbelt technology.'

'Both rightfully Foaly's.'

'Perhaps I would have sold them to a sportswear manufacturer,' Artemis finishes as though she hadn't spoken.

Holly rolls her eyes. 'Well, they're certainly much prettier than LEP issue wings, I'll give you that much.'

'Good aesthetics never hurts sales, I find.'

Holly chuckles.

'Don't you want to try them?' he asks. Don't you want them? is what he thinks to himself. Don't you want me? is what he means.

'I...yes, obviously! Yes!' She grins at him. 'Flying! Oh, Artemis.'

He helps her strap them on, fiddling with the padding and circuitry as an excuse to be near her. They both know she can do it herself, but she doesn't.

'But what if someone sees me?' she asks suddenly.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I can't shield anymore, what if someone sees me flying?'

'At this hour it's hardly likely and, at other times, what have you got to hide? You're human. So what if you have a fancy toy?'

Holly blinks. 'Oh yeah. Wow... I'm just so used to hiding.'

'I know.' He opens the French windows, 'Go on, I'm as curious as you are.'

'Really, you just needed a guinea pig, didn't you?' She starts the motor and hovers a few feet above the balcony. Familiarising herself to the controls, she floats higher and does a slow somersault. Then she takes off into the night, skimming the ground, weaving between trees, spinning and looping through the gardens. Artemis leans on the railing and watches. But she is gone a long time and eventually he gets cold. Returning inside, he sits down on the sofa, looking at his watch, wondering if perhaps she will simply never come back.

He's asleep by the time she lands on the balcony once more. Her hair is sticking every which way as she unhooks the wings and hangs them over the back of a chair. She closes the windows to keep out the cool night air. In his sleep he's fallen awkwardly onto his side, half lying down, half sitting. He looks so harmless, lying in the watery blue squares of moonlight and crooked black shadows of the windows' leading.

She lifts his legs up onto the sofa and covers him in one of her blankets.

Sitting across from him in one of the armchairs, she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and watches him sleep, still feeling the sting of the wind on her skin. I'm as bad as he is, she thinks, remembering her accusations on waking to find him watching her, the first time. Isn't it funny though? Of all the things in the world to be scared of, this scrawny human boy terrifies me more than anything.

I do want to trust him though. I do. More than anything. But look what happened last time.

I want to believe that he cares, but what if he doesn't?

Shaking her head, Holly smooths back his hair, and goes to bed.