Chapter Text
Chapter 7
It made sense, even without Artemis's explanation.
"I can take you outside. We can cross borders, even. But if anyone can argue that I don't have complete control over...the situation, you can be taken away."
And who knew where she would go, or what would happen to her before Artemis could argue her back into his possession. As easily the most talked-of sale of the year, she would not just be put alongside another hundred elves in government quarters. She would be...favored.
Artemis never said this, though, and Holly found herself grateful that he did not make the threat. And then irate with herself. Yes, praise her master for not telling her she would be gang-raped if she disobeyed him.
The fact remained, though, that if she didn't cooperate, Holly would remain in Fowl Manor for the rest of her life. Artemis thought he was protecting her by keeping her enslaved. He wouldn't free her; not without freeing all other fairies. If Holly was going to get free, she would have to free herself, and the first step was getting out of the Manor.
Still, it was a week before Artemis walked into his bedroom late at night following an all-day meeting to find Holly standing a bit off from the door with her back to him, hugging her upper arms, her collar turned backwards so the leash trailed down her back. A fairy could never remove their own lead, but someone had decided that letting them beg for "walkies" would be cute.
It had taken her all day to force on the leash, and then a good fifteen minutes of shaking in her semi-private room before she came downstairs. The wait after had been short, but horrible.
She couldn't look, but she could hear Artemis breath in sharply at the sight. He paused in the door for a half-minute, and Holly's pulse rose under his gaze. She couldn't have been an alluring sight. She'd made sure. Her cargo pants were sized to the Holly he knew, and so were baggy on her current form, which was just now recovering from emaciation. Her shirt must have belonged to some family servant, going down nearly to her knees and sporting green stains from yard work. It was the least attractive outfit she could construct, yet she was sure she could feel a wave of malice and lust come up as Artemis gently closed the door, locks coming together on their own, and walked up to his elf.
She stopped breathing when she heard the shift of his body as he crouched behind, wincing at the brush of hot air on her neck. It was a shock when she felt the weight of the hanging leash ease, Artemis standing tall again. She forced herself to breath in before she toppled over.
"H...heel," Artemis whispered, twitching the lead.
He'd given her a list of the commands others would expect her to know. Had said it in those exact words. "Others would expect," not what he wanted. It was best that she didn't have a trial-and-error education, so she didn't hesitate to go to his side, standing with her shoulder just barely touching the seam of the human's slacks.
It burned. Burned and made her stomach churn, head spinning. It wasn't skin she touched, but he was still touching her, touching her, she didn't want him to touch her, she couldn't stop him from—
Artemis snapped his fingers and stepped forward.
Holly felt the pressure of the collar on the back of her neck for just an instant. Then she followed.
It was so quiet. Even without elven ears, she would have been able to hear the tap of his smooth-soled shoes on hardwood and even rug. The rasp of the woven leash on his slacks. His fast breathing and whispered commands.
It must have only been five minutes. There was something ironic in the fact that all of Holly's training to become the perfect officer-soldier—marching, instant response to orders, ability to disengage mind from body—had bent itself to making her such a nice doggy. Artemis never took her from the room, and their final, long circuit stopped...next to his bed.
She didn't look at it. Hadn't been told she could, and so would not, though she could smell recently laundered cotton with the soothing hint of sandalwood.
The last rays of sunlight were coming through the western windows, setting a soft yellow glow on the rug at her feet, trailing up her calves and just to her fingertips, warming just a little part of her body.
They stood for some time.
"That's...very good," Artemis said, words catching, dragging out.
Holly jerked when she felt his cool fingers on the side of her neck, leaning away and involuntarily looking up into her master's eyes.
The sunlight had gone from his face, turning his eyes dark and unreadable, but still just as potent.
Gods, she wanted to look away, but he was leaning forward, long, thin fingers reaching for her again, and what was he going to do, touch her shoulder or her cheek or her ears, gods, she'd collapse if he touched her burning, itching ears, her entire body throbbed—
The leash whirred when Artemis pinched the base, disengaging and falling from Holly's neck.
He turned away, walking into his en-suite bathroom, easing the door closed behind.
Holly stood beside the enormous bed until her lungs forced her to breath in. Then she fled, tripping on the spiral stairs, footsteps making the metal structure bang and shake. She lept onto the fainting couch, putting her back to the cushions, legs drawn to her chest. She buried her face between her knees and waited for the shaking to stop.
There was pomp. Bluster. Speeches. Kind words and vague threats on both sides. Holly and Trouble would have dozed off if they hadn't seemed to pass their nerves and nausea back and forth.
Holly thought that all of the details had been worked out on the deal, but, apparently, a thousand and one pages of treaty couldn't cover everything, and the strain of negotiations was building. Some of the newer Council members barked complaints before being glared into submission by Vinyáya. Then the elders tried their luck. They were slightly harder to control. Vinyáya seemed almost disappointed when the ancient dwarf coughed something nearly unintelligible out, punctuating his statement with a thump of his cane, bringing instant silence and more than one sincere apology.
So it went on. And on and on, until it was obvious that even Vinyáya was growing irritated. She was half-out of her seat, hands on the desk before her, shoulders rolled forward in the fashion of a feline preparing to pounce. To tear some baby animal's stomach open. Her voice was level, but the words clipped as she shot them up to those seated in the center of the room—including the Taoiseach, invited up by the Ceann Comhairle following opening prayers—berating them for the poor treatment of their guests.
"Is this how you humans would treat one another?" Vinyáya sneered, and some of the politicians did have the good grace to look ashamed. "Ask what you'll get for saving lives? Don't you have shred of charity in your filthy—"
"Quiet, Councilwoman," the Taoiseach murmured.
Vinyáya's mouth snapped closed.
Miles away, in a drafty tent with a cold floor, a word: "D'arvit." It was said softly. No shock or terror or even disbelief.
The Taoiseach smiled gently, leaning forward in his borrowed chair. "You are being quite unruly."
Vinyáya swallowed, the gesture traveling all down her throat, and she broke her gaze away from the human's, looking to her left, to the old dwarf councilman.
The councilman let out a long sigh.
"I must resign from the Council, Cahartez," Vinyáya whispered, to which he nodded and closed his eyes, lowering his head and settling his hands tight on his cane.
"Your resignation is accepted immediately," Cahartez rumbled.
The next place over, Councilman Ark Sool—somehow forgetting the debates and the words of the Taoiseach—let out a little laugh, eyes shining with ambition.
From one of the many feeds, Holly could see the former councilwoman put her hand to her hip and flick her fingers.
A sheet of camfoil fell away, her gun shimmering into visibility.
The human guards, and even some of the officials, began to reach for their own weapons.
Vinyáya yanked her gun free, pointing it at Cahartez's head, and pulled the trigger.
Not a neutrino. Perhaps not even an LEP-grade weapon, because the heat of the gun turned each water molecule—and many other compounds—instantly to steam. Bits of dry flesh flecked off as the dwarf's body tottered. Slowly, he fell to the floor, desert-dry skin cracking open, revealing a skull and shriveled brain beneath.
That happened slowly, it seemed, though Vinyáya had never been a slow operative, so perhaps it was just the normal time-stretching quality of adrenaline. In the meantime, the humans had begun to scream.
Vinyáya readjusted her gun and let off four more shots. Perfect. Between the eyes, boiling brains, instant kills on each Councilman. Though he was closest on her left, Ark Sool was the last, and his heart rate had barely had a chance to increase before it stopped altogether. The fairies on Vinyáya's right side took just as little time.
Before each body had finished falling, Vinyáya put the barrel of the gun in her mouth, into her soft palate. The microphone on her throat picked up the hiss of a red-hot barrel cooking her lips.
A gunpowder shot rang out a split-second before the last fairy weapon blast. From Sool's fallen body, his eye cam picked up the jerk of the elf's hand, blood spraying from the wrist.
Vinyáya's heartbeat spiked. Went erratic.
Did not stop.
Humans piled on her, hiding her as she was dragged away, one strong man at each limb, blood dripping from her mouth and scraps of skin fluttering to the floor.
Holly and Trouble only had a moment to look at each other, hoping for some bravery, some resolve, and only taking in the unbridled fear in each other's eyes.
Then they were running out of the tent, screaming at fairies, setting the evacuation into motion.
Someone was touching her oh, gods, it felt good. Just fingers brushing her hair, but the last time she'd felt something like this was the night before her capture. She hadn't even touched her cellmate of three months, even when she came back from an hour, half-hour, five minutes with a guard and she was lying on the floor, sobbing, wanting to beg Holly to kill her, but prevented from asking by the geis.
Holly had wanted to help her, but she never had. Could not give the comfort of a physical connection when almost every shift change the sprite was ordered out of her cage, leaving Holly alone once again.
No one had touched her, but now Holly sighed, muscles loosening with the little pleasure. Her eyes fluttered open.
"Are you all right?" Artemis whispered.
Shocked fully awake, Holly thrashed, shrinking from the human's hand, head craning back to avoid his touch and gaze. She would scream. Very soon.
"Shhh, shhh!" Artemis said, though the lack of eye contact invalidated what could have been an order. "It's okay, Holly," he reassured, shifting up the couch and coming all the closer to her small frame. "I just...I know the...training made you upset. I had to make sure you were okay."
"Leave," Holly said through painfully clenched teeth. "Leave me alone."
He opened his mouth to respond, but soon closed it in a scowl.
"You...you can't come up here," Holly said.
Artemis snorted. "You don't get it, do you?" He laughed. "I own this house. This room." He leaned in, whispering, right up against her face. "And I own you."
She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to escape the geis.
"I am 'Master Fowl' here in every sense of the word. I go where I want."
And Holly felt his hand between her legs.
There was no stopping her eyes from shooting open, needing to see how she could attack, how to get free, but before she could think of a single move, he was moving up, on top of her, his weight immense on her fairy body, crushing out her breath, pushing her into the couch.
"You are so lucky," he rasped, grabbing a handful of the baggy cargo pants. "So lucky Holly. No one hurt you. So lucky it wasn't some stranger."
"S-stop!" Holly shrieked, twisting, pushing up on his chest, clawing at his neck and collarbone, but doing no damage. She was trained to fight, but he was huge and on top and he was tearing at her clothes, working the pants off her hips, down to her upper thighs. His head was in the crook of her neck, words going right into her ears.
"I saved you, Holly," he said, one hand leaving her clothes and going to his own, trembling next to her struggling thighs. "I saved you!"
"Stop it, Artemis! Stop!"
"It's okay!" Artemis said, rearing back so he could look down on the elf. "It's okay!" He smiled. "I saved you."
And he grabbed at her clothes once more, using them to pull her down as he surged forward.
Holly screamed, her struggles dying for a moment.
Then they redoubled, trying to push him away, off, out, but his human body was laid over her again, his hands grabbing her wrists, holding them above her head, all the leverage keeping her down, letting him move and he whispered in Holly's ear as she screamed.
"It's okay. It's okay, Holly. It's me."
And she screamed, "No! No! Nononono!"
"It's okay. I saved you."
Holly sat up, thrusting her hands out, kicking with all of her strength.
Nothing.
Darkness.
Her head whipped around, looking for the monster...but she was alone.
Still in the alcove, clearly in Fowl Manor, but Ar—...but no one was to be seen.
She sat up, looking down her body. Her cargo pants were still there, loose on her hips. Logic was coming back, her mind clearing, but...but what if...
Holly closed her eyes when she stuck her hands under the hem of her pants, feeling between her thighs. Even then, the touch nearly made her throw up. When she took her fingers back out, it was nearly a minute before she could force herself to look.
Just a small, clear sheen. No red. No thick white. If Ar—...if he had really...there would be blood.
She sobbed. Just once, but so loud, she was sure he would wake up and come to see what was wrong. Find her here, his fairy, his property.
But he did not wake, and Holly sat back down on the bed, balling up a blanket and shoving it against her face to drown out her sobs.
Holly awoke to the sound of slamming armoire doors. Well, perhaps not slamming, but they were shut with no care for heightened elvish senses. She wanted to go to the rail and scream down that she was sleeping, but what if he saw her, looked her in the eyes, and...and...
She turned into the couch cushions and spread the blanket to cover her head. Her breath began to circulate within, turning the air hot and uncomfortable.
"Holly," came Artemis's voice. Casual.
Holly clenched the blankets tighter. She was getting woozy.
"Our flight is scheduled for noon. We will need to leave within the hour. Please pack what you wish to bring to meet my associate."
She squeezed her eyes more tightly.
He kept working for some time.
Holly did not move. In fact, she had begun to doze when she heard a voice below again. A new one, deep and smooth, with a slight twang she could not place.
"The car is ready for you, Mr. Fowl."
"Thank you, Dolohov. I shall be down presently."
"Of course, sir." The door closed.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Shoes approaching the stairs.
"Are you ready, Holly?"
She felt the absurd urge to yell "I'm not here!" Like she was a little girl being told she had to visit unpleasant relatives. She instead remained silent.
At the foot of the stairs, Artemis sighed. "We are flying commercial, Holly. The plane will not wait for us. Please hurry."
She did not stir. There was a good, full minute pause.
"Holly, I know you are up there. I...understand your reticence, but I at least must go. If you wish to stay here, that is fine."
She breathed out slowly, a little smile on her face. Yes. Here. Alone. No Artemis. Perfect.
No Artemis. Just his servants. Just a maid and guards and men she'd never seen and no Butler and—
She sat up quickly, tossing the blanket to the floor, trusting the heavy whump was loud enough to keep Artemis waiting.
She tore off the cargo pants and shirt, tossing them into a corner. Diving into the drawers, she pulled out a double-layer shirt and button-up pants. The bottom layer of the shirt was sheer and tight, even on her figure, and she struggled to pull it on. The top layer—seemingly a simple red tee—was given a wonderful form by the shaping mesh below, which Holly hid by pulling on a mottled grey sweater. The button-up jeans fit loosely, as usual, but not so loosely that she could pull them off without undoing buttons. She further complicated things with a clamp buckle.
She pulled it all on, the layers and complications and hindrances, and slowly eased. It would have to do.
Slipping sock-less into white shoes, Holly started down the stairs before Artemis called again.
She froze on the last step.
Ten feet away. Artemis waited...with the leash.
She took a backwards step up the stairs.
Artemis looked at her. Then at the leash. Sighing in understanding, he waved a hand at her, turning away. "Next trip, then."
Holly hesitated as he began to walk away, tensing with every step, eyes daring between his head and the end of the leash. She would be alone. He was leaving her alone.
No. Not alone.
She ran, a little clumsy in the new shoes, snatching the leash in passing. Holly pressed the end to her collar. The whir of machinery was high-pitched, grating on her ears.
Artemis had, of course, heard her rapid steps, and turned to address the fairy, but found himself whipping back around as she pulled the door open and jumped through. He yelped, startled at the fairy's panic-derived strength.
Holly kept going, and she felt a brief tug on her neck as Artemis caught up. A dog she might have to be, but not a well-trained bitch.
Alone. No. Not alone. Not with a bunch of guards about, all of whom were perfectly fine with their master paying a half-billion for a...formerly virgin elf.
But, if Artemis was to believed...tonight, she would be with others. In the company of an abolitionist.
A moment alone. A request, a plea, a single order, and Holly Short would be free.
Holly didn't have it in herself to feel pity for the airline staff. Perhaps some railed against the treatment of the People, donating money and spending all their free time lobbying to outlaw fairy slavery, but they still silently guided her through security—at least that was all distant, with the humans adapting fairy technology to solve their pesky terrorism problem—and showed her and Artemis to their seats. About the kindest treatment she received was being given a small fruit platter to nibble while they awaited takeoff, but Holly was almost certain that was airline policy for first-class fairies, and not an individual's efforts.
Airlines didn't have a complete understanding of fairies, though. The rest of first-class was circumspect—merely eyeing her with interest before returning to books and laptops—but she soon began to catch bits of conversation from the rear of the plane. Words of pity for her and condemnations of Artemis. Even rationalizations pointing out the huge increase in quality of life across the globe since the fairies arrived. And one pair of businessmen, still loose from free conference drinks, speculating about how far fairy orders could be pushed, and how sturdy their red-headed fellow passenger looked.
If Artemis could hear, he did not react. The businessmen and Artemis seemed more than a little bored with the inevitable tarmac delay, accepting an extra complimentary refreshment in one hand, texting with the other, thumb swiping easily over the phone's touch-screen. Holly tried to lean back in her seat to get a view of the contact's profile picture, but Artemis was already putting his phone away, sipping something with the strong aroma of spirits.
Holly had to grit her teeth when the plane took off. While airlines had latched onto fairy tech, many older planes—like this one—were still in use. She thought she was going to dislodge a joint up until the moment the wheels left Earth. Then she thought she would wretch or at least make some noise as the angle of ascent changed, rendering her weightless and then twice as heavy every few seconds. Doubtless if she was the pilot there would have been no issue, but placing her life in the care of a few Mud Men and a Mud Man-crafted metal tube stretched her nerves.
The announcement from the cockpit was a mere jumble to the elf, even with the little magic she had left for the Gift of Tongues. She took her cue from the other passengers—the most attentive of whom barely cocked her head at whatever was said—to settle back into her seat.
"I never imagined you a nervous flier," Artemis said in a low rumble.
Holly had to respond a little louder, for his human ears, but she still spoke soft enough that not even a passing flight attendant could hear. "Couldn't you have found a flight on a fairy-tech plane?"
"Not for several more days, I'm afraid. They are most common for longer flights, and we will only be in the air for about an hour."
Holly blinked. "Are we even leaving Ireland?"
Artemis gave her a bland glance. "I either find your estimate of my country's size to be flattering or your opinion of human technology to be insulting. Which shall it be?"
Holly couldn't call Artemis an ass in public without bringing her "training" into question, but she thought her face communicated the word quite well.
Humming, Artemis took advantage of a second announcement from the cockpit to bring out his laptop.
Artemis had allowed Holly the window seat, and she spent the rest of the flight looking out. Very little time had passed before they left land behind, going over a stretch of dark ocean made more ominous by the wispy gray clouds all around. When they went back to flying over land, it was a bit less green than what they had left behind, and certainly more foreign-feeling to the fairy. Humans had emerged from Africa, but the People were a part of the green isle, and even ten thousand years in exile had not changed opinions on what should be considered their homeland.
Soon, the green began to be cut through with the gray streaks of roads and the odd mottling of roofs, the sections widening to join one another until the land was instead green pockets in the gray of human developments.
Once more, the garbled voice of the pilot came on, and Holly struggled to understand. All that came through was some strange word, and then "tower." She frowned, looking down at the city below, wondering at its odd streets, done in diagonals and star-bursts and only the occasional section of parallel lines, all accommodating a dark green river.
Then it clicked and she whirled in her seat, looking at Artemis. "Tower...Eiffel Tower? We're in France?"
"Above it would be a better description," Artemis said, still tapping away.
She scowled, both at his dismissive reply and her own lack of information. She thought, hard, and her eyes widened suddenly at the conclusion that came. She left the window completely, hands resting on the wide arm rest between her and the Mud Man, leaning in to whisper as low as she possibly could, "Are we going to Disneyland?"
Artemis turned his head sharply, brows nearly hidden in his hairline.
Holly was far too intent on the possibility to back away from the man, even though she could now smell his breath and the slight sharpness of the alcohol the flight attendant had brought over an hour ago.
"A fan of roller coasters, Miss Short? I suppose we could add it to the trip," he drawled, his humor coming through. "Just don't ask me to wear any of those blasted 'mouse ears'."
Holly sat back in her seat, looking down at her hands. "Oh...so we're...not going, then."
Artemis blinked at the woman, wondering at this sudden second turn of mood. "We...can add it to the trip, Holly."
"No, no," she sighed, going silent for a time. Then, quietly, she explained, "We used to have LEP officers stationed there. Easy to blend in, with all the costumes. I thought...maybe they were still..."
"Ah..." Artemis had to look back at his computer, fingers lightly tapping the keys, though not enough to put any text on the screen. "I can...check employee records. See if you recognize anyone?"
"No," Holly shook her head. "Anyone there would have left to help the rescue efforts or...been caught."
"Yes, likely. If it is any consolation, I recall no stories about fairies being captured in any such situation. They must have left before anyone acted upon their suspicions."
"Probably. Seems like the kind of scenario that would be in the handbook, really." Holly sighed, long and hard, and turned her back on Artemis, looking out of the window again.
Artemis watched her for another minute before returning to his business dealings.
The plane went on well past the Eiffel Tower, but it was descending. Slowly, it seemed, but no doubt hundreds of feet a minute. Soon, Holly's view was blocked by clouds, a little captured moisture streaking from a tiny hole in the window's outer pane. Then they were through and back into a more suburban region, the glimmer of a city just opening to its nightlife visible on the horizon. The pilot came on the radio once more and the passengers began shifting in response to his words, but Holly still had no clue what he'd said and what was going on.
She glared at Artemis. "Okay, did you all finally perfect that 'invented language' bullshit Foaly warned us about, or is this some mutually-agreed-upon delusion?"
Artemis looked at Holly, a brow raised. "Pavyseljirna kavbu ba'oxuku."
Holly stared.
"You need to put up your tray table," he clarified, and, a bit too confused by what had come out of the speakers and then the man's mouth, Holly complied.
If takeoff was bad, Holly was not prepared for the landing. She thought her touchdown following the dogfight had been bad, but the thump of wheels on tarmac startled her to alertness just in time to make sure she was fully terrified of the roar of air dragging on the wings. Holly was going to tear her nails off with how hard she gripped the armrests.
Then a large, warm hand covered her own, its paleness still a contrast to her sun-starved skin.
Holly jerked her hand out from under Artemis's, shooting a deadly look at the presumptuous human.
Artemis rolled his eyes and faced froward, waiting patiently to disembark.
There were many perks to the kind of first class Artemis had paid for. Not waiting for luggage at a turnstile, for one. Artemis barely had to shift his gaze to find the immaculately dressed airline representative waiting for him outside the security checkpoint, guarding his luggage. Only the heaviness of the employee's breaths betrayed the speed of the bag's fetching, and Holly couldn't tell if Artemis was duly impressed or not as he took the bag and palmed over a bill. A glance at the bill made the employee beam, however, so it was at least worth the effort to him.
It had stung Holly deep in the chest that morning, on leaving the Manor, to realize that Butler was still not, nor ever would be again, their driver. She'd only been in a car with him a few times, but it seemed such a natural state for Artemis. She could imagine he was the type of baby that had to be driven around during fits of colic, and Butler must have been the perfect infant chauffeur. Yet, despite knowing he was gone and having just had the shock, Holly still expected to walk out of the airport's sliding doors to find a solid man waiting with a sign for "Master Fowl."
No sign. And, as it turned out, no man. Holly really should have been ashamed of that particular assumption, given her own employment battles.
"Artemis!" A cool, deeply accented voice called, its owner pushing off from the side of a very, very old, but immaculately preserved convertible. The sort with its spare wheel tacked to the side and a grill that seemed better suited to a crank-start than an engine.
The owner was by no means near as old. In fact, if Holly was any judge of humans, it appeared to be younger than Artemis. And..."zaftig" was a word Holly had never used in a conversation, but it was perfect for the blonde walking towards them. Ample hips and bust, shown off by a tucked waist and legs that tapered down to feet that would have been best suited to dangerous heels. These were instead encased in converse that seemed all too casual for her obviously choice attire. The choice was explained ss she walked, however, shuffling every other step, weight resting heavily on one foot and light on the other.
"Artemis," the woman repeated, nearly falling into the genius's arms as she came to his side.
He, in response, put his hands easily on the woman's round hips, looking into her delicately tanned face and dark brown eyes, half-hidden by small, square glasses. "Minerva. Comment allez-vous?"
"Pas mal," she replied, leaning in and tilting her head, Artemis mirroring the action, exchanging cheek kisses. "I had to make my own breakfast this morning, I'll have you know. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice."
Artemis smiled, an edge to the curve of his lips. "Oh. Does that mean...you will be cooking this weekend?"
The blonde's eyes narrowed. "Yes," she said, deadpan.
"Oh." Artemis's smile did not falter in the slightest. "Excellent."
There was a long pause. Even Holly absorbed some of the tension.
Minerva leaned in and spoke just a hair's breadth from her guest's ear. "Lies."
After another, shorter pause, Artemis chuckled. Leaning back, he shook a finger in Minerva's face. "Minerva! There is enough going on this weekend without you adding that stress, ma bichette."
The Frenchwoman narrowed her eyes at the man. "Why do I feel that was said in your native tongue, and not mine?"
Artemis reached up, tucking a strand of waved hair behind one of Minerva's ears. "That," he breezed, "would be mo bitseach."
"Casse-toi!" Minerva shrieked, though it blended into a laugh. Shaking her head, she freed the hair Artemis had so carefully arranged. "Come. We shall be so much more comfortable at the villa."
Artemis nodded, following the woman back to the car.
Up until the leash went taut.
He must have barely felt the tension, but Artemis froze entirely, looking back over his shoulder at Holly.
The soldier stood, entire body tense, as if that lead contained a live wire. Her eyes darted up and down the airport pickup. So many people. If she jerked back, grabbed the lead, twisted hard, Artemis would lose his grip. She could run.
Until someone screamed the word. Holly wondered if the collar was smart enough to dose her once, or if she would be pumped full of tranquilizer for every voice, until her heart itself went to sleep.
Artemis watched Holly, but did not react. Not to tighten the lead or narrow his eyes or shake his head. He let her decide.
The elf looked up at him, into his eyes, wondering if she would follow his order here, even out of the airport and fairy limitations. Should she comply or fly into a contrary rage?
And still no orders came.
It felt like a defeat, taking that step to follow the humans. It was not eased by Artemis's lack of gloating as he simply turned and followed their host.
Holly was a little mollified by Artemis white-knuckling the dashboard as Minerva drove. If it was true that she and Artemis had been associates for some time, then he had no excuse for being surprised at the woman's driving style. Holly certainly wasn't. The few times she'd been in a squad car with Chix Verbil following his wing injury, he'd drove like he was still trying to get places as the crow flies.
In the back seat, Holly actually smiled. Chix had made it to Atlantis, along with an entire shuttle-port's worth of stewardesses. All reports indicated the stewardesses remained quite thankful. His second son was on the way.
This pleasant reverie came at the end of a particularly winding section of the drive, with Artemis groaning as the car finished a final shrieking turn between a large pair of trees, going into an extended arbor, the trees becoming progressively shorter and younger as they went along, finally entering into an open field, at the end of which stood an enormous house.
"Really, Minerva. We are not on that much of a deadline. You could be a bit more reasonablaaaaah!"
Holly couldn't keep in a giggle as Minerva veered around a statue of a human on horseback, its arm upheld, perhaps pointing at the sky or holding something aloft, though it was impossible to tell now, as the statue ended at the wrist. Bits of gravel flew from the car's back wheels, pinging into the villa's stucco and sending up a small tinkle of breaking glass somewhere nearby.
The car looked towards the vague source of the noise and pouted.
Artemis glared at her, releasing the dashboard and smoothing his hair back. "You deserve that."
Minerva rolled her eyes and flipped a hand at the man. "It can be fixed."
"That's no excuse," Artemis grumbled, taking the liberty of turning the engine off and yanking the keys free, saving himself from another joy ride. He exited the car, the movement tugging on Holly's collar, which was still connected to the lead and this to Artemis's wrist. The elf followed without complaint, but her eyes were again darting across the grounds.
The field was rather large, but the trees on the edge were thick. The sort of density forced by the Mud Men's twin obsessions of privacy and fighting out natural forest fires. She wouldn't live in those for anything, but they could be a temporary refuge. A little fire in there would actually help. The inevitable blaze from a ground covered in dead wood and thick leaves would destroy her tracks.
Artemis took the pilfered keys in hand and didn't need to consult them before sliding one home. Touch-memory. Which meant he'd at least had the privy of these keys before. Holly wondered how long it would take someone to grow comfortable enough with the harsh genius to hand over they keys. Or foolish enough; she wouldn't be surprised if the man could recreate a set of keys from visual memory.
But, then, he'd been nothing but charming with Minerva. Perhaps that was all it took: a little well-calculated charm. He certainly exuded enough, stepping back and bowing Minerva in, smiling at the little bob of her head in response.
But then he stilled, looking to Holly, standing just at the edge of the stairs. He appealed to Minerva.
Minerva, sensing the pause, looked back. And, understanding, focused on Holly. "You may enter."
She sounded so...neutral.
A ruse. It had to be. An anti-slavery Mud Man would allow a fairy into their dwelling. How else would they get the fairy off leash and open to an order to be free? Holly's heart hammered as she stepped across the threshold, feeling not a tingle of the geis's Rule of Dwelling.
Minerva smiled at the elf, then to Artemis. "I would prefer she walk free, Artemis."
Holly held back a grin. It would not be much longer.
"Give the orders and show her to her room," Minerva said, flipping her hand at Artemis and turning away. "We will talk in the library." Still limping, placing her hands on the furniture, she passed, disappearing down a long hallway.
Holly watched her go, stomach finally seeming to feel the violence of the drive.
Artemis dripped to one knee before the elf. Waited.
Waited for Holly to force herself to meet his eyes.
He could do it himself. Force her. Tug on the leash or grab her chin, or just move into her line of sight, but he waited until Holly turned to meet his gaze with eyes that were struggling to hold back a shimmering wetness.
"Was...was it a lie?" Holly asked. "She's not on my side. Is she?"
Artemis opened his mouth for some sort of answer, but on darting his gaze after the woman, seemed to reconsider, merely meeting eyes with the fairy again. "Holly...you will not attempt to escape this dwelling." He paused a moment. Then closed his eyes. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't destroy her house like you're doing to the Manor." Reaching out, he pinched the base of Holly's collar, the leash whirring and falling away.
Holly was gone from Artemis's side before he finished standing. She felt tension in her arms, her legs, her jaw. It was too much and she released it all in one kick.
An ornate wooden display table wobbled and toppled over, sending an even more ornate vase to shatter on the floor, shards skittering off under the furniture. Holly felt ludicrously smug. It was a far better crash than Minerva's broken window.
As if he'd expected the destruction, Artemis didn't even jump. Just glanced over the broken pottery before following Minerva's path down the hall.
Holly remained in the entryway, letting her anger build up again. When it was nice and pressurized, she allowed herself to go after the man. Really, she'd prefer to explode at whoever this Minerva woman was—or at least find out if she needed to explode—but she was wherever the library was, and Holly had been too distressed to track her exit. Unless this was a rather simple villa—and the view from outside told Holly that this could never, ever be true—then there was no finding her but by accident. Artemis, however, could not be far.
She would just go down the hall and keep breaking things. Including—she bared her teeth in pleasure—Artemis.
In a house this large and full of echoes—the Paradizo clan apparently did not have the Fowl obsession with carpets, allowing every step to reverberate on the walls, only dampened by the occasional piece of furniture or painting—he wasn't all too hard to track. The sound of a long suitcase zipper guided her down a hall to an open door. Holly slowed as much as her little body could stand as she entered the room. "You told me she was—"
"Get out of my room, Holly." Artemis snapped, his back to the elf as he took clothes from the suitcase, flapping them before laying them out on the bed to de-wrinkle.
Holly stopped in her tracks, but did not leave. No eye contact, so no order, and now too much confusion. "What?"
"Your room is at the end of the hall, on the left," Artemis said. "Kindly leave me to my own room."
Holly gaped. "My—"
"Room," Artemis barked, turning to glare at the elf. "This is mine. That is yours. It is not a difficult concept, even for a police officer."
Holly bared her teeth at the slight to the LEP. "Keeping up appearances for the girl? Trying to get in her...'good graces?' Does she know you make me sleep with you?"
Artemis snorted. "You could hardly call that 'sleeping with me.' And, yes. She knows." He shrugged. "She suggested it."
Holly's stomach dropped. "She—"
"To protect you from the staff," Artemis went on, airy and frustrated, eyes rolling.
Holly lowered her brows. "You mean protect me from being freed by them."
"That was included in her considerations, yes. Now...my room," Artemis insisted, pointing at the door. "If you must be with me, I will be joining Minerva in the library in ten minutes. I do hope you join us. We have much to discuss.
Clenching her fists, quite willing to scream, Holly turned her back to the man and stormed out of the doors.
There was a hanging scroll next to the door, thin and yellowed with age, the brushstrokes by some Mud Man calligrapher. They were delicate and full of motion. Alive.
Holly yanked the scroll from the wall as she passed, taking half of it with her into the hall before slamming the door on the middle of the message.
He clenched the back of her neck, nails digging into her skin, pushing down hard so she had to turn her head away from the mattress to breath. Which was already difficult, with the weight on her back, compressing her lungs. She wanted to keep her eyes closed, but there was no stopping herself from looking up, watching as he moved against her, making the smallest of noises.
He loved that she watched. He smiled.
"Shhhh," he ordered, completely unnecessary, as he'd said it a hundred times already, right at the beginning. Said it every time he touched, grabbed, thrust.
He had to order, because if she was given half a chance, Holly would scream, pray to be saved, beg to be killed, and his host most certainly would not approve of her sleep being disturbed.
He leaned down, putting even more pressure on Holly's neck, burying her face in the sheets, and he whispered right in her ear. "Now...isn't this nice?"
Holly shot up in bed, onto her hands and knees just an instant before she spun around, one arm out for defense, the other clutching an over-sized pillow to her chest.
Even as a nocturnal creature, it took her eyes time to adjust. The curtains were thick and many-layered, keeping the room both stiflingly warm from the heat of the fire and almost completely dark. Only a very dim shaft of light from under the door helped Holly to see.
Putting a hand to the back of her neck, she expected the pain of a burgeoning bruise, but only raising a few goosebumps that were quickly conquered by the heat.
She was suffocating. It wasn't just the hands of her dream, but the actual room. Heart hammering still, Holly slid out of bed, going to a pair of long curtains and yanking them aside to reveal a pair of French doors. After some struggle keeping the airy fabric parted, she found the ties for one side and made a messy knot that Vinyáya would have screamed about, back in her Academy days. Beyond caring, Holly pounded the doors with her fist until one burst open and she was hit with a chill wind.
Holly paused, breath taken by the cold, shoulders hunching in. Elves were tropical creatures, and too much exposure like this could actually weaken her. Without her magic, it could perhaps even make her ill.
Whatever. IT was worth it. She placed her hands on the remaining closed door and leaned into the wind, letting it snake into her mouth, up her nose and through the complex whirls of her long ears. Her eyes drifted half-closed and she passively took in the sight of a nearby water feature and the distant road. There was a tentative chirp of crickets just speaking up again after being startled by the banging window. Holly leaned into the door.
Her nose was right at the threshold when a barrier came up. She could go no further.
Holly's eyes burned when they opened once more. Far away, over the tops of trees, she could see the lights of a little town and, above that, the far grander lights of the night sky.
She smelled fresh wind off treetops and old earth and the rot of grass cut days before. The soles of her feet tickled with the phantom brush of the lawn and the night's just-forming dew. She wanted it.
Holly put out her hand, just wanting, until it too was caught and all she could do was flatten her palm against the invisible wall. She placed her other hand there, leaning her full body weight into it.
Holly looked at her hands, hovering on nothing and, suddenly, laughed. Loud and raw, inappropriate, unstoppable. Fucking magic. If humans needed any proof, here it was.
Sudden, unexpected, fury rushed through Holly's blood and she turned from the gardens, going as fast as she could while keeping her footsteps utterly silent, yanking open her door and darting into the hall.
He was wrong. Wrong. Artemis could free the People if he wanted, but he would not do so by making her his property. This girl, this Minerva, would understand. She would set the elf free. One order—to stop following orders—and Holly would be gone.
Holly didn't have to inspect each room. She knew where Artemis was quartered, and Minerva had assured them that no one else would be in the villa while plans were made. Which meant that the light coming from the door at the other end of the hall—the same light that had eventually seeped into her own room—could only be Minerva's. She ran, silent, but so close to just screaming for the human girl to free her. Only her LEP training (and one particular gnome in the Academy who was very, very insistent on never charging into an unknown situation) slowed her pace and hands enough so she merely cracked open the door and peeked inside.
In the gentle glow of a lamp under a thick shade, Minerva's hair fell down her shoulders and spine, a golden cascade. There was a pale hand on her bare hip and a dark-haired head nestled between her neck and shoulder and Holly could hear gasped words between open-mouthed kisses. "Merde. Minerva. Merci, Merci! Ta chat!"
Minerva keened, head tilted back to let lips brush over her neck, along her collarbone, lower. "Artemis."
Holly's mouth dropped open. She took a half-step back from the door.
A hand fell on her shoulder.
"No, don't go in th—"
Holly spun about, feet still rooted, motion coming all from the hips. With all her force, she sent her fist out at her her own head height, intending to punch straight through the stomach of whatever human remained in Minerva's villa.
"—ere," the speaker managed, squeakily, just before Holly's fist smashed into its mouth.
His mouth. Which was full of really fucking sharp teeth. Holly swore, cradling her hand, and stepped back once more, back hitting the door.
Whcih swung another inch with a tiny creak.
Blood dripped down Holly's knuckles and onto the wood floor, but what was left in her veins went cold. She listened for a reaction from inside the room.
Which became an entirely lost cause when her ears were assaulted by a great crack, as if lightning had struck between her and the stranger.
Which was precisely where a new figure stood, snarling, "Hands off my student, elf!" Taller, older, and far, far more angry than the first intruder, his eyes glowed red, illuminating a grey-skinned face full of yellowing teeth.
Holly gaped at the creature and flickered her eyes to his...student. Scales and runes decorated their chests. Their hands were thin, with knobbly fingers ending in needle-like claws. They had muscular digitigrade legs with further talons on the toes and an extra dewclaw at the ankle. And long mouths—muzzles, really—brimming with teeth and, in the case of the younger, blood. It was his own blood, but it was a terrifying sight.
And sparks. Red sparks came from the student's broken teeth, which were slowly straightening, one or two falling out to be replaced by new, shining fangs.
"What the—" Holly began, shutting down when she heard the feeble squeak of hinges. She should have kept facing these strange creatures, but despite their threat she was unable to keep herself from looking over her shoulder.
Minerva stood in the doorway, wearing a man's button-up shirt, which she simply clutched at her chest, rather than buttoning. Behind her, the original owner was looking at the ground as he pulled up the zipper of his fine woolen slacks, leaving his pale chest bare, exposing a swath of red from his cheeks all the way to his collarbone.
"Ah," Minerva said, lightly, out of breath. She swept a hand at the two strange creatures behind the elf. "Holly. May I introduce you to the demon warlock, Qwan, and his student, Nᐤ1?"