Artemis Fowl

“A day! A day!” The healer laughed. “I will outlive you by a century. Even fairies tethered to the human realm can survive the ages.”

“Not with half a pint of holy water inside them,” said Artemis, tapping the now empty whiskey bottle.

The fairy blanched, then screamed, a high keening horrible sound.

“Holy water! You have murdered me, human.”

Trawling through gigabytes of data, he found hundreds of references to fairies from nearly every country in the world. Each civilization had its own term for the People, but they were undoubtedly members of the same hidden family. Several stories mentioned a Book carried by each fairy. It was their Bible, containing, as it allegedly did, the history of their race and the commandments that governed their extended lives. Of course, this Book was written in Gnommish, the fairy text, and would be of no use to any human.

Artemis believed that with today’s technology the Book could be translated. And with this translation you could begin to exploit a whole new group of creatures.

Fully aware that he was probably the first human in several thousand years to decode the magical words, Artemis switched on his desk light and began to read.
The Booke of the People.
Being instructions to our magicks and life rules
Carry me always, carry me well.
I am thy teacher of herb and spell.
I am thy link to power arcane.
Forget me and thy magick shall wane.
Ten times ten commandments there be.
They will answer every mystery.
Cures, curses, alchemy.
These secrets shall be thine, through me.
But, Fairy, remember this above all.
I am not for those in mud that crawl.
And forever doomed shall be the one,
Who betrays my secrets one by one.

Once over the Channel, Holly flew low, skipping over the white-crested waves. She called out to the dolphins and they rose to the surface, leaping from the water to match her pace. She could see the pollution in them, bleaching their skin white and causing red sores on their backs. And although she smiled, her heart was breaking. Mud People had a lot to answer for.

Butler nodded, sliding their captive into an oversized duffel bag. Something else to be lugged across two fields, a bog, and a stile.

“Fowl,” she said with feeling, “you have no idea what you’ve done. Bringing the worlds together like this could mean disaster for us all.”

Artemis shrugged. “I am not concerned with us all, just myself. And believe me, I shall be perfectly fine. Now, sit, please.”

Holly sat, never taking her hazel eyes from the diminutive monster before her.

“So what is this master plan, Fowl? Let me guess: world domination?”

“Nothing so melodramatic,” chuckled Artemis. “Just riches.”

“A thief!” spat Holly. “You’re just a thief!”

Annoyance flashed across Artemis’s features, only to be replaced by his customary sardonic grin.

Artemis smiled. “No. The entire estate is built on a bed of limestone. Not even a dwarf could tunnel his way out of here. Or in.”

Laying his fingers on the tunnel floor like an upturned spider, Mulch waited. It didn’t take long. In seconds he felt the rhythmic thump of an approaching rabbit. The instant the animal’s hind legs brushed the trap, he tightened his powerful digits around its neck. The poor animal never had a chance.

Sorry, friend, thought the dwarf. If there was any other way…Pulling the rabbit's body through the hole, Mulch rehinged his jaw and began screaming. “Cave in! Cave in! Help! Help!”

“Apparently. It just came through on the outside line. This is Gudgeon’s party now. He told the Council about the ransom demand and you springing Mister Diggums. You know what the elders are like when it comes to parting with gold.”

Root folded his arms. “People told me about you, Gudgeon. They said you’d stab me in the back. I didn’t believe them. I was a fool.”

“This is not about us, Julius. It’s about the mission. What’s inside this cage is our best chance of success.”

Artemis paused, his gaze tugged momentarily upstairs to the converted loft. Perhaps, he thought. Do I really need all this gold? And was his conscience not pricking him, leeching the sweetness from his victory? He shook himself. Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan. No emotion.

Angeline frowned, completely unconvinced. “I see. And how about school? Have you decided on a career?”

While his mouth answered these everyday questions, Artemis’s mind was in turmoil. He was a boy again. His life was going to change utterly. His plans would have to be much more devious than usual if they were to escape his mother’s attention. But it would be worth it.

Angeline Fowl was wrong. She had brought him a Christmas present.

There is a tendency to romanticize Artemis. To attribute to him qualities that he does not possess. The fact that he used his wish to heal his mother is not a sign of affection. He did it simply because the Social Services were already investigating his case, and it was only a matter of time before he was put into care.