Artemis ignored them, walking farther down the quay front to the cottage with the window boxes.
Window boxes? Who would have thought.
There was a keypad on the door. It looked out of place in such a rustic setting, but Artemis would have expected no less. He keyed in his own birthday, zero one zero nine, deactivating the lock and interior alarm.
It was dark inside, curtains drawn, lights off. Artemis stepped inside to a spartan living area with a functional kitchen, one chair, and a sturdy wooden table. There was no television, but rudimentary shelves had been erected to store hundreds of books on various subjects. As Artemis’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could make out some of the titles. Gormenghast, The Art of War, and Gone with the Wind being among them.
“You are full of surprises, old friend,” murmured Artemis, reaching out to touch the spine of Moby Dick.
As he traced the embossed title, a small red dot of light appeared on his fingertip.
“You know what that is?” said a low rumbling voice behind him. If thunder could speak, then this would be its voice.
Artemis nodded. This was no time for outbursts or sudden moves.
“Good. Then you know what happens if you do anything to upset me.”
Another nod.
“Excellent, you’re doing very well. Now lace your fingers behind your head and turn around.”
Artemis did as he was told, and found himself facing a huge man with a full beard and long hair drawn back in a ponytail. Both were flecked with gray. The man’s face was familiar, but different. There were more lines around the eyes, and a deep frown slash between them.
“Butler?” said Artemis. “Are you behind all that hair?”
Butler stepped back as though struck. His eyes widened and he swallowed rapidly, suddenly parched.
“Artemis? Is it . . . You’re the wrong age! I always thought . . .”
“The time tunnel, old friend,” explained Artemis. “I saw you only yesterday.”
Butler was not yet convinced; he moved quickly to the curtains, and in his haste pulled them, rail and all, away from the wall. The red light of sunrise flooded the small room. Butler turned to his young guest and took the boy’s face in his hands. With massive thumbs he wiped the grime from around Artemis’s eyes.
What he saw in those eyes almost buckled his knees.
“Artemis, it is you. I had begun to think . . . No, no. I knew you would come back.” And then again with more belief. “I knew it. I always knew it.”
The bodyguard wrapped Artemis in arms strong enough to break a bear’s back. Artemis could have sworn he heard sobs, but when Butler released him, he was his usual stoic self.
“Sorry about the beard and the hair, Artemis. I was blending in with the natives. How was your . . . eh . . . trip?”
Artemis felt the sting of tears in his own eyes. “Um, eventful. If it hadn’t been for Holly, we never would have made it.”
Butler studied Artemis’s face. “Something is different. My God, your eyes!”
“Oh, yes. I have one of Holly’s now. It’s complicated.”
Butler nodded. “We can swap stories later. There are calls to be made.”
“Calls?” said Artemis. “More than one?”
Butler plucked a cordless phone from its cradle. “There’s your parents, of course, but I should call Minerva, too.”
Artemis was surprised. Pleasantly so. “Minerva?”
“Yes. She’s been here several times. Almost every school holiday, in fact. We’ve become good friends; she’s the one who started me reading fiction.”
“I see.”
Butler pointed the phone at Artemis. “It’s Artemis this, and Artemis that. She has really built you up to be something special. You’re going to have to work hard not to disappoint her.”
Artemis swallowed. He had been hoping for a break, not more challenges.
“Of course, she’s grown up a bit, even if you haven’t,” continued Butler. “And quite the beauty. Sharp as a samurai sword, too. There’s a young lady who could give you a run for your money at chess.”
Then again, thought Artemis. Nothing like a challenge to keep the brain active. But that could come later.
“My parents?”
“You just missed them. They were here yesterday, for the weekend. They stay in the local guesthouse whenever they can.” Butler laid a hand on Artemis’s shoulder. “These last few years. It’s been terrible for them. I told them everything, Artemis. I had to.”
“Did they believe you?”
Butler shrugged. “Some days they did. Mostly my fairy stories just added to their pain. They think I’ve been driven mad with guilt. And even though you’re back, things will never be the same again. It would take a miracle to erase my stories, and their suffering.”
Artemis nodded slowly. A miracle. He lifted his hand. On the palm was a slight graze from his climb over the quayside stile. Artemis concentrated and five blue sparks of magic leaped from his fingertips and zeroed in on the graze, wiping it out like a cloth wiping dirt. He had more magic left than he had pretended.
“Maybe we can arrange a miracle.”
Butler was beyond further amazement. “That’s a new trick,” he said laconically.
“I picked up a little more than an eye in the time tunnel.”
“I see,” said Butler. “Just don’t do it around the twins.”
“Don’t worry
,” said Artemis. “I won’t.” Then his brain computed what Butler had actually said.
“What twins?”
Butler punched in the Fowl Manor phone number, smiling. “Maybe time stood still for you, big brother, but it didn’t for the rest of us.”
Artemis stumbled to the room’s only chair and sank into it.
Big brother? he thought, and then . . .
Twins!
Don’t miss the next
thrilling adventure in the ARTEMIS FOWL series
THE TIME PARADOX
“May I see Mother now?” Artemis asked him.
“Yes,” said Artemis Senior. “Go now, see what you can find out. Study her symptoms for your search.”
My search, thought Artemis. There are difficult times ahead.
Artemis’s hulking bodyguard, Butler, waited for him at the foot of the stairs wearing full kendo armor, the helmet’s face guard folded away from his weathered features.
“I was in the dojo, sparring with the holograph,” he explained. “Your father called and told me I was needed immediately. What’s going on?”
“It’s Mother,” said Artemis, passing him. “She’s very ill. I’m going to see what I can do.”
Butler hurried to keep pace, his chest plate clanking. “Be careful, Artemis. Magic is not science. You can’t control it. You wouldn’t want to accidentally make Mrs.
Fowl’s condition worse.”
Artemis arrived at the top of the grand stairway, tentatively reaching his hand toward the bedroom door’s brass knob as though it were electrified.
“I fear that her condition couldn’t be worse. . . .”
Artemis went inside alone, leaving the bodyguard to strip off the kendo headgear and hon-nuri breastplate. Underneath he wore a tracksuit instead of his traditional wide-legged trousers. Sweat blossomed across his chest and back, but Butler ignored his desire to go and shower, standing sentry outside the door, knowing that he shouldn’t strain too hard to listen, but wishing that he could.