Holly spoke her last. 'Artemis,' she said. 'Artemis, help me.'
Artemis glanced at her. Once. Briefly. He shouldn't have. The sight of his friend dying almost threw off his count. And right now, the count was the most important thing.
Holly died without a friend to hold her hand. Artemis felt her go – another gift of the magic. He kept on counting, brushing away the tears on his cheeks.
Keep counting. That's all that matters.
Artemis rose, walking swiftly to his fallen friend. Abbot saw him go. He pointed the sword in Artemis's direction.
