Artemis Fowl (Artemis Fowl 1)

“The time-field was the key to this whole affair. It’s the LEP’s ace in the hole. It’s what has made them unbeatable for all these years. Any incident can be contained. That and the bio-bomb make a formidable combination.”

“So why did we have to be drugged?”

Artemis smiled. “Look out the window. Don’t you see? They’re gone. It’s over.”

Butler glanced through the net curtains. The light was bright and clear. Not a hint of blue. Nevertheless, the manservant was unimpressed. “They’re gone for now. They’ll be back tonight, I guarantee it.”

“No. That’s against the rules. We beat them. That’s it, game over.”

Butler raised an eyebrow.“The sleeping pills, Artemis?”

“Not to be distracted, I see.”

Butler’s answer was an implacable silence.

“The sleeping pills. Very well. I had to think of a way to escape the time-field. I trawled through the Book, but there was nothing. Not a clue. The People themselves have not yet developed a way. So I went back to their Old Testament, back when their lives and ours were intertwined. You know the stories—elves that made shoes during the night, sprites that cleaned houses. Back when we coexisted to a certain extent. Magical favors in exchange for their fairy forts. The big one, of course, was Santa Claus.”

Butler’s eyebrows nearly jumped off the front of his face.

“Santa Claus?”

Artemis raised his palms. “I know, I know. I was a tad skeptical myself. But apparently our little corporate-image Santa Claus is not descended from a Turkish saint, he is a shadow of San D’Klass, the third king of the Frond Elfin dynasty. He is known as San the Deluded.”

“Not a great title, as titles go.”

“Admittedly. D’Klass thought that the greed of the Mud People in his kingdom could be assuaged by distributing lavish gifts. He would marshal all the great wizards once a year and have them throw up a great time-stop over vast regions. Flocks of sprites would be sent out to deliver the presents while the humans were asleep. Of course, it didn’t work. Human greed can never be assuaged, especially not by gifts.”

Butler frowned. “What if the humans . . . we, that is . . . What if we had woken up?”

“Ah yes. Excellent question. The heart of the matter. We wouldn’t wake up. That is the nature of the time-stop. Whatever your state of consciousness going in, that’s how you stay. You can neither wake up nor fall asleep. You must have noticed the fatigue in your bones these last few hours, yet your mind would not let you sleep.”

Butler nodded. Things were getting clearer, in a roundabout sort of way.

“So my theory was that the only way to escape the time-field was to simply fall asleep. Our own consciousness was all that kept us imprisoned.”

“You risked an awful lot on a theory, Artemis.”

“Not just a theory. We did have a test subject.”

“Who? Ah, Angeline.”

“Yes. My mother. Because of her narcotic-induced slumber, she moved with the natural order of time, unhindered by the time-field. If she had not, I would have simply surrendered to the LEP and submitted to their mind wipe.”

Butler snorted. He doubted it.

“So, because we could not fall asleep naturally, I simply administered us all a dose of Mother’s pills. Simple.”

“You cut it pretty fine, though. Another minute . . . ”

“Agreed.” The boy nodded. “Things were tense there at the end. It was necessary in order to double-bluff the LEP.”

He paused so that Butler could process the information.

“Well, am I forgiven?”

Butler sighed. On the chaise lounge, Juliet snored like a drunken sailor. He smiled suddenly.

“Yes, Artemis. All is forgiven. Just one thing . . .”

“Yes?”

“Never again. Fairies are too . . . human.”

“You’re right,” said Artemis, the crow’s feet deepening around his eyes. “Never again. We shall restrict ourselves to more tasteful ventures in the future. Legal, I can’t promise.”

Butler nodded. It was close enough.

“Now, young Master, shouldn’t we check on your mother?”

Artemis grew paler, if that were possible. Could the captain have reneged on her promise? She would certainly be entitled to.

“Yes. I suppose we should. Let Juliet rest. She’s earned it.”

He cast his eyes upward, along the stairs. It had been too much to hope for that he could trust the fairy. After all, he had held her captive against her will. He berated himself silently. Imagine parting with all those millions for the promise of a wish. Oh, the gullibility.

Then the loft door opened.

Butler drew his weapon instantly.

“Artemis, behind me. Intruders.”

The boy waved him away. “No, Butler. I don’t think so.”

His heart pounded in his ears, blood pulsed in his fingertips. Could it be? Could it possibly be? A figure appeared on the stairs. Wraithlike in a toweled robe, her hair wet from the shower.

“Arty?” she called. “Arty, are you there?”

Artemis wanted to answer, he wanted to race up the grand stairway, arms outstretched. But he couldn’t. His cerebral functions had deserted him.

Angeline Fowl descended, one hand resting lightly on the banister. Artemis had forgotten how graceful his mother was. Her bare feet

skipped over the carpeted steps and soon she was standing before him.

“Morning, darling,” she said brightly, as though it were just another day.

“M-Mother,” stammered Artemis.

“Well, give me a hug.”

Artemis stepped into his mother’s embrace. It was warm and strong. She was wearing perfume. He felt like the boy he was.

“I’m sorry, Arty,” she whispered into his ear.

“Sorry for what?”

“For everything. For the last few months, I haven’t been myself. But things are going to change. Time to stop living in the past.”

Artemis felt a tear on his cheek. He wasn’t sure whose tear it was.

“And I don’t have a present for you.”

“A present?” said Artemis.

“Of course,” sang his mother, spinning him around. “Don’t you know what day it is?”

“Day?”

“It’s Christmas Day, you silly boy. Christmas Day! Presents are traditional, are they not?”

Yes, thought Artemis. Traditional. San D’Klass.

“And look at this place. Drab as a mausoleum. Butler?”

The manservant hurriedly pocketed his Sig Sauer.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Get on the phone to Brown Thomas. The platinum set number. Reopen my account. Tell Hélène I want a Yuletide makeover. The works.”

“Yes, ma’am. The works.”

“Oh, and wake up Juliet. I want my things moved into the main bedroom. That attic is far too dusty.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”

Angeline Fowl linked her son’s arm.

“Now, Arty, I want to know everything. First of all, what happened here?”

“Remodeling,” said Artemis. “The old doorway was riddled with damp.”

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.

EPILOGUE