ARTEMIS was making final preparations in his office, updating his will and trying to master his feelings, tamping down a flat grey sky of sadness that threatened to cloud his resolve. He knew that Doctor Argon would advise him against bottling up his emotions as it would lead to psychological scarring in the long term. But there will be no long term, Doctor, he thought wryly. After so many adventures Artemis felt he should have known that things never turned out exactly as planned, but still he felt surprised at the finality of this step he was being forced to take - and also that he was willing to even consider taking it. The boy who kidnapped Holly Short all those years ago would never have entertained the notion of sacrificing himself. But he was no longer that boy. His parents were restored to him and he had brothers. And dear friends. Something else Artemis had never anticipated. Artemis watched his hand shake as he signed his last will and testament. How valid many of his bequests were in this new age, he was not sure. The banking system was almost definitely irretrievably damaged, as were the world's stock exchanges. So there went the stocks, bonds and shares. All that time spent accumulating wealth, Artemis thought. What a waste. Then: Come now. You are simply being maudlin. You love gold almost as much as Mulch Diggums loves chicken. And, given the chance, you would probably do the same again. It was true. Artemis didn't believe in death-bed conversions. They were far too opportunistic. A man must be what he is and take whatever judgements are forthcoming on the chin. If there is a Saint Peter, I will not argue with him at the Pearly Gates, he promised his subconscious, though Artemis knew that if his theory was correct he could be stuck on this plane as a spirit just as the Berserkers were. I can be a supernatural bodyguard to Myles and Beckett. This notion gave Artemis comfort and made him smile. He realized that he was not at all afraid, as if what he was about to attempt was a simulation in a role-playing game rather than an actual course of action. This changed when Artemis sealed the will in an envelope and propped it against the desk lamp. He stared at the document, feeling the finality in the moment. No going back now. And then the fear dropped on him like a tonne weight, pinning him to the office chair. He felt a block of lead solidify in his stomach and suddenly his limbs seemed grafted on and out of his control. Artemis took several deep breaths just to stop himself throwing up, and gradually his calm returned. I had always imagined that there would be time for goodbyes. A moment for meaningful words with those I love. There was no time. No time for anything but action. The fear had passed and Artemis was still set on his course. I can do it, he realized. I can think with my heart. Artemis pushed his oxblood chair back on its castors,