Chapter 1-The Fairy's Bible

Disclaimer: I do not own Artemis Fowl or the characters from Glee. They belong to Eoin Colfer and Ryan Murphy respectively.

A/N: This is set in an Artemis Fowl AU! You don't have to have read the series to read this though I recommend it. Hope you like this. It will follow the general plot of Artemis Fowl for those who have read it.


One would have thought it weird that three teenagers were unaccompanied in the busy center of Ho Chi Minh City in the middle of summer. But of course, you could always overlook it when everyone was packed together and pushing past, trying to escape the heat. You could simple to overlook the fact that the shortest one who was in the middle had a rather pasty pallor to his naturally olive skin. Maybe it was cause from all the research he had been doing lately, or from one of his favourite past times, hacking into 'protected' accounts for fun when he was bored. He was flanked by two sixteen-year-old boys who seemed much more mature than their age suggested. The one on the left was of Asian heritage, called Wes. The one on the right was named David, of African American descent. They didn't seem very normal. Maybe it was the protective stances they assumed, or maybe it was the automatic tensing when someone came that tiny bit too close or perhaps it was even the odd protectiveness they were showing to their younger accomplice which over-exceeded a normal friend's concern. But no-one really noticed. And if they did, who would say anything?


Blaine Anderson was a busy teenager. On any other normal day, he would have stayed at home in Westerville, safe and cool in the Anderson family mansion. But, on the other hand, this was not a normal day. Not by anyone's standards. Today was the day that he might take the first step towards discovering a new species. Not to forget the exploitation of it of course.

"And you are sure that this informant is accurate David?" Blaine asked in a hushed whisper, facing towards the African American boy. "We don't want a wild goose chase on the account of another informant" The statement was a soft rebuke towards the Asian man standing opposite him. Wes flushed a pale red but David covered for him smoothly. "I am sure this will not turn out like the Singapore case. I'm certain this man is the real deal, sir" Blaine nodded curtly and 'hmm'ed under his breath. He was yet to be the judge of that.

Most passer-bys would have been surprised to hear an older teenager address a younger one by the esteemed title of 'sir'. Even amongst adults, it was quite rare for that term to be used anymore. But these three boys didn't have the ordinary relationship one might expect.

"Let's take our places then" Blaine ordered, striding over to the near curbside café. The official meeting place for their collaborator today. As soon as they were seated in the spartan but adequate café, a waiter scampered up to them, ratty apron around his waist, notepad in his hand and a ton of gel in his hair. "What would you like to have boys?"

Blaine merely raised an eyebrow. "Sit down already and spare me your worthless acting." The waiter was taken aback, running his hand through his curls, forgetting about the copious amounts of gel in it. He looked at his hand in disgust before wiping it hurriedly on his apron and turning to Blaine's 'friends' for use of a better word. "Excuse me, what would you like to have? I'm not sure what your friend here is talking abou-"

"Cut the crap. You're wearing designer loafers, a silk Marc Jacobs and 3 rings with opals, emeralds and platinum in them respectively. You have the air of an actor, though a very poor one I assure you. Your accent does not fool anyone and your nails are clean and manicured. I doubt you are one of the waiters here. You are our informant Jesse St James and you have tried using this feeble excuse for a disguise to scope out any weaponry we might be carrying."

The waiter's jaw fell before snapping shut with a click as he fell into the spare chair opposite Blaine's booth where Wes was sitting next to the youngest. David was sitting on the chair next to the disgruntled 'waiter', smirking in a 'you really can't fool any of us' way. "Fine, you're right. But I do object to the 'poor acting' I'll have you know I attended-"

"Please be quiet. Now, as I am a gentleman, it is customary to fill you in on our weaponry status. I am unarmed myself. But you see my two companions here. Or well rather my bodyguards. That's what they really are. Wes here," he gestured to the Asian boy to his left "has a SIG P210 in his shoulder holster, a switchblade in his right boot, three stun grenades in various pockets, a taser and…what else Wes?"

"The garrotte wire, sir"

"Oh yes, and the trusty garrotte wire in his watch. Otherwise known as razor floss. Now, David here has the same weapons in different places of course, only with a good old-fashioned cosh and a pistol concealed in several secret pockets. Oh, and don't forget the tranquilizer gun up his sleeve."

During this, Jesse had gone white and he lifted a pale trembling hand up to his face. No amount of (poor) acting could disguise the obvious fear he had of this mere teenager.

"Don't worry Mister St James. These weapons will not be used on you…unless you give us a reason to." Needless to say, this was not comforting at all. "No," Blaine continued with a scary measure of calm. "Wes and David could kill you with their bare hands with a couple hundred different techniques, individually or combined. Though, I'm quite sure they need only use one" He did not make a joke, he simply stated it as a fact. Why make a joke out of it when it was perfectly true?

Jesse paled once again. Fear of this mere teenager was rational after all. Here, a fourteen-year-old boy was talking with the authority and vocabulary of a crime boss. It made sense though. The Anderson's were quite famous or rather infamous in the Underworld of crime. Though, he had envisioned meeting with Blaine Anderson Senior rather than his adolescent boy. Though the term 'boy' hardly did any justice to this individual. Not to mention his 'bodyguards'. The other two boys looked menacing enough despite their age. They were obviously trained for this and looked as if they could both take him down in a heartbeat. Individually. Together, even sooner. Jesse was starting to think that the ludicrous amount of money he was getting paid might not be worth spending another minute in this bizarre company.

As if he had read his thoughts, Blaine had turned brisk and business like. "Down to our deal," said the curly haired boy, nodding to his Asian companion who silently placed a micro recorder on the table. "You answered our ad."

Jesse nodded, gulping and praying to whatever deity up there that his information was accurate. He didn't want to know what the consequences were otherwise. "Yes, Mr.…Master Anderson. What you're looking for…I'm pretty sure I know where it is."

"I'm sorry" Blaine apologised, not looking sorry one bit "'Pretty sure' won't cut it St James. I'm supposed to take your word for this? How do I know this is not an ambush? My family does have a lot of enemies." Blaine said civilly as Jesse shivered. This kid was crazy! How was he a dapper gentleman on one hand, but then a ruthless criminal the next?

To the side of Jesse, David patted his shoulder holster threateningly as Wes smirked coldly over the table. Jesse noticed the motions and couldn't get his words out fast enough "No, no! I mean…I have proof!" Jesses gabbled quickly, words tripping over themselves as they flew over his tongue. The worst thing possible was to upset this dangerous adolescent. He extracted a photo from his wallet with a startling speed and handed it over. "Here, take a look."

Blaine examined the photo, taking in the minute details. He willed his heart to remain calm. After a few months and a few dead ends (which were cleaned up by Wes and David) was this finally it? But he couldn't get his hopes up. After all, anything could be faked with a computer and flatbed scanner. The picture had showed a mottled hand extending from shadows. A mottled viridescent hand.

"Please explain"

"This woman. Well, she's a healer of sorts. She lives near Tu Do Street. She heals in exchange for alcohol, particularly really expensive ones. She's drunk most of the time."

Blaine bobbed his head slowly. Everything seemed to add up so far. The drinking. One of the concrete facts his research had unearthed. He stood up abruptly, smoothing his red polo down. "Very well then Mr. St James. You have proved yourself reliable so far. We'll see about that when we reach our destination. Please lead the way Jesse."

Jesse ran his hand through his wavy hair once more and took it out. It was again, drenched in gel. He blanched and wiped it on his apron repeatedly. "I'm only giving information. That was the deal. I don't want any curses on my head." Wes and David discreetly edged around him to stand behind him, gripping his arms tightly enough to bruise.

"I'm sorry St James" Blaine said condescending with a trace of a smirk upon his face, all politeness forgotten "but the time when you actually had a choice in matters is long past" he walked ahead purposefully, motioning for his bodyguards to follow him. Wes and David steered the protesting wanna-be actor in the wake of their master to a rented four-wheel drive whereupon they forced the curly haired adult into the jeep. Jesse silently cursed in his head as the jeep started its course. How could he have gotten himself into this situation? And how was he able to be manhandled so easily by those two…boys? He was losing his touch and he blamed it all on this criminal lifestyle. He should have thought better to mix magic and crime. That was it, if he got out of this goddam situation alive, he'd change his ways for good this time. No more answering shady adverts or dealing with sons of American kingpins. He'd move to New York and start a Broadway career. Maybe even get a new identity...

While Jesse was listened to his inner monologue, Blaine stared out of the windows observing the various going-on's around him. The small motorbikes (called mopeds), parted like fish in a shoal for the huge four-wheel drive. The crowds were packed and they seemed to trail on forever. Even the alleys were filled to the brim with vendors and hagglers trying to cheat and hassle tourists for their money. Cooks carelessly dropped fish heads and other assorted (slightly) edible chunks of goodness knows what into sizzling oil. Blaine shuddered as he noticed all of the tourists practically queuing for a bite of that fattening and disgusting excuse for food. He let out a slight chuckle and blinked in disbelief. He had cracked a joke. That was a miracle in itself.

The vehicle could only travel so far before the streets became too narrow to continue. Blaine turned to Jesse "It seems we have to proceed on foot." Jesse opened his mouth to protest. Walking would scuff his shoes, he was certain of it. "Don't even bother complaining St James. You either walk with your shoes on or Wes will take them off for you" Wes smiled lazily at Jesse, fingers wiggling by his sides. Jesse choked out a silent agreement and stepped gingerly onto the pavement, taking in his surroundings.

"Don't you bother running away. You could if you wanted too of course, but I thought I'd save you the trouble by telling you first. You run away and you expect a swift sharp pain between your shoulder blades courtesy of these two." He angled his head to indicate Wes and David. Jesse looked down into their eyes, seeing only brown and black. There was no mercy. He shuddered, wondering what the two had gone through to make them so hard.

"I won't run."

"I didn't really expect you to. Now where is she?" Blaine asked impatiently

Without a word, Jesse led them down an alley swarming with urchins and suspicious natives. A thousand eyes followed their path and one unfortunate pickpocket tried to take David's wallet. Suffice to say that that boy's hand would never be the same again.

The back lane narrowed down to a rutted track. Pipes and sewage fed directly onto the slippery, muddy surface of the path. Cripples and beggars sat on the sidelines yelling at them.

"Please kind sir! My leg was run over by a cart! How's a guy to make a living now?"

"Please spare some money for the homeless!"

"Sir! Would you be as caring as to donate some money for the fella with a crippling illness?"

It was uncalled for to say that these pathetic cries fell on deaf ears as the four males turned a corner to come face to face with a black triangle beneath a rusted iron fire escape that led from an abandoned building.

"Well, is this it?" Blaine demanded fiercely.

"Yes. Right under there. She never comes out though. Even to buy rice spirits, she just sends a runner. Can I please go now?"

Blaine didn't bother answering. Instead, he treaded gently across the potholes to the lee of the fire escape and peered down, squinting in time to perceive furtive movements in the shadows.

"Wes, toss me the goggles"

Wes extracted the night goggles from his belt and stretched out his arm to place the device in Blaine's outstretched hand. The focus motor buzzed loudly to adapt to the light conditions.

Blaine raised the goggles to his face and everything became a radioactive green. He took in a deep breath and turned them to face the shifting shadows. A mass was squatting on a raffia mat, squirming slightly in the almost non-existent light. Blaine grunted and fine-tuned the dial to focus. The tiny being was wrapped in a squalid shawl. Empty jugs were half buried in the ground, scattered randomly in the earth around her. A spindly forearm poked out from under the material. It seemed to be green. But then again, so did everything else.

"Madam," Blaine said, turning on his charm to full volume "I have a proposition for you"

The figure's head wobbled as it tried to determine the source of the voice. "Wine," she croaked, her voice seemed as if it hadn't been used for centuries. "Wine, English"

Blaine smiled, that was another thing checked off the credibility list. Seeing as she lived there with in darkness, that was the aversion to light checked off. Then the gift of tongues, of course Blaine hadn't been speaking English. Oh no, to test this hag's tenability, he had spoken Italian instead. Seeing as she still understood him, this could only mean one thing. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest in excitement but he forced his voice to remain the epitome of calm.

"Italian actually. Now about my proposition."

The healer shook her spindly figure cunningly, "No, wine first. Talk then"

"Wes?"

Wes reached into a deep pocket and drew out a bottle a liter of the finest wine he could find in America. Blaine took the bottle and held it tauntingly just beyond the shadows. He reached up a hand to remove the goggles and almost missed the clawed hand that had darted from the dark to snatch the bottle greedily. It was green. No doubt. This was the final puzzle piece slid into place. Blaine turned to Jesse, a triumphant grin adorning his handsome face. "Pay our friend, David. In full. I trust that this will stay between us Jesse?" Wes and David glowered at Jesse, there was no other way to interpret it other than 'You tell, we beat your ass and promise excruciating pain as we do it.'

"N-No! I won't tell. I p-promise"

"You'd better. We wouldn't want Wes and David to, ah…make you keep that permanently, would we?

David thrust a wad of cash into Jesse's hand and the curly haired adult ran full pelt down the alley. He had forgone his pride in his relief that he was actually alive. He didn't even bother to count the money which was quite unlike him. Even though, it was all there. All fifty thousand dollars. Not too shabby for an half hour's work.

Blaine turned back to the fire escape. "Now Miss, you have something I want."

The healer's tongue licked her chapped lips, lapping up the alcohol residue. "Yes American boy? You have sore head, bad tooth. I can fix all."

Blaine replaced the goggles on his face and strode up to her. He squatted down to her level and looked into her eyes. "I am perfectly healthy Miss, apart from a slight allergy to fools who waste my time but I doubt anyone can fix that. No, I want your Book."

The hag narrowed her eyes and froze. Bright, alert eyes peeked out from the shawl. "Book," she muttered raspingly, "I have no book. You want book, you go to library"

Blaine's mouth set in a thin line of determination. "You are no healer and we both know it. You are a fairy, sprite, p'shóg, ka-dulan. Whatever you want to call it. And I would like your Book."

For a stretched out silence, the hag said nothing, then she drew back the shawl from her face. The glow of the green goggles clearly outlined her features. The fairy's nose was long and hooked under two long slitted golden eyes. Her ears were pointed and the alcohol addiction of hers had melted her skin like putty.

"If you know about the Book, boy. You also know how much power I have in my body. Enough to crush you and your two stooges so you three die a painful, painful death." She smirked, however the expression was ghastly since her skin was just about hanging off her bones. Wes and David tensed in anger and both took wary stances. Blaine waved towards them lazily. "Don't worry you two." The two bodyguards stiffened and exchanged glances but stood at ease once again. Blaine faced back towards the fairy. "I think not. Look at you. You're practically dead. Alcohol really is terrible for you isn't it, dulled your senses. Reduced to healing warts, pathetic isn't it. I will give you a way of redeeming yourself, in exchange for the book."

"What would a human want with our Book?"

"I don't think I can disclose that to you. However, I can disclose to you your options."

The sprite's ears quivered slightly. Options?

"One, you refuse to give us the Book and we go home, leaving you to rot here"

"Yes," the fairy said a tad too eagerly "I choose that"

"Ah, no." Blaine laughed tauntingly. "If we leave, you'll be dead in a day"

"A day?" the hag cackled, throwing her head back. "I'll outlive all of you children by a few centuries before I die! Even fairies attached to the human world can survive the curse of time."

"Not with a liter of holy water in you, you won't" he smiled indulgently, tapping the empty wine bottle with proud satisfaction.

The fairy's eyes widened and she blanched then screamed, a despairing and horrible wail. "Holy water! You have as good as murdered me!"

"True, it should start burning any minute."

The hag glared at Blaine hatefully, tentatively prodding at her own stomach. "The second option?" she managed to choke out in her rage at being tricked.

"Glad to see that you're finally beginning to look at it my way. Well, second option is to hand over the Book for thirty minutes and I'll restore all of your original magic to you.

The sprite scowled at him "That is not possible. Don't try to kid me, boy."

Blaine raised a triangular eyebrow "I assure you I'm not kidding" he said with a faint chuckle "I have two vials with me. Number One, a ampoule filled with spring water from the fairy well sixty meters below the ring of Tara-perhaps the most magical place on this planet. This will cancel the effects of the holy water."

"The other?"

"Ah, Number Two is a complicated little thing. A little shot of man-made magic. A cultivated virus that feeds on alcohol, mixed with a little growth reagent. It will flush out any and all traces of alcohol in your body, remove the addiction and even reinforce your failing liver. It'll be messy," at this he flashed a charming grin "but it's going to be worth it. You'll be zipping around again like you were when you were a thousand years old"

The fairy licked her lips thoughtfully, it certainly seemed tempting… Then the cramps hit.

Blaine stepped back as he looked at the sprite writhing on the floor. "Do we have a deal?" he asked, cool and calm as if he was talking over a cup of coffee.

"H-how do I know that you will-argh" Painful spasms hit her abdomen again. "h-hold your s-side of the deal?"

"Do you really have a choice?"

"Arghh! You bastard! I take it! I take it!" The pain had started escalating.

"See, in order to prove that I'm fair. Well, as fair as I can get as least, Wes will administer the first vial. You give us the Book. We get our thirty minutes. Then you get it back and we restore your magic." Blaine looked down and smiled sweetly "Fair now?"

"Yes! Yes you son of a bitch!"

Blaine smile dropped and his face adopted a stone cold expression. Wes and David shared a glance between his back. Uh-oh, sore point. The raven-haired boy clicked his fingers at Wes and the aide quickly took out a syringe and pumped the shot straight into the sprite's arm. The effects were instantaneous.

"Strong magic"

"Yes, it is isn't it. Now, the book."

The fairy rummaged around in her shawl for what seemed like an eternity before dipping her hand into a hidden pocket and drawing out a small golden volume. Blaine held his breath. It took all his willpower to restrain himself from bouncing up and down like an excited puppy. This was it, the turning point of his life. He would forever go down in Anderson family history as the teenager who single handedly restored the Anderson fortune. The fairy extended her hand, fist closed around the book. "It will be of no use to you. Written in the old tongue"

Blaine didn't let on any sign that he had heard her. She slowly opened her knobby fist to expose the golden tome. The amber-eyed male slowly straightened his arm out and took the volume reverently as he examined it.

"Thirty minutes human."

This snapped Blaine back to the present and he handed the Book to David who opened it as Wes extracted a compact digital camera from his belt. Working together to photograph the wafer thin pages of the book, they managed to capture the entire book on the camera's miniscule microchip in under ten minutes.

"Take no risks" Blaine instructed hastily

Wes and David nodded in unison as Wes saved the hard drive in Blaine's computer in the Anderson Mansion while David simultaneously blue-toothed it to Blaine's phone and from there, emailed it to the Anderson Mansion in Westerville. Before the thirty minutes were up, all the contents of the book were sitting safely in four different locations. Blaine returned the miniature title to its original owner. "It was an honor to work with you" Blaine thanked her smoothly.

"Not so fast. The second shot?"

"Oh yes, I am a man of my word after all." He motioned to David this time, who crouched down and dispensed the second shot straight into the carotid artery. The sprite collapsed on the floor as the shot took its hold.

"Let's leave." Blaine shuddered. "I definitely do not want to be around when all that alcohol leaves her body."


The Hughes and Sullivan families had been serving the Anderson family for centuries. It had always been like this. Indeed, it was thought that the first record of this three-way arrangement was when Amon Hughes and Emani Sullivan had served as bodyguards, cooks and servants of Lord Chance Robinson for the first American rebellion.

The Hughes' and Sullivan's were always trained together, that was tradition. The training included gourmet cooking, marksmanship, how to care for firearms and other weaponry, a specially customized blend of martial arts, emergency medication and information technology. Their training was as well rounded as it could get. Once their training was done, they were assigned two at a time to whichever present Anderson needed guards. If at the end of their training and there was no need for any manservants, they would be quickly snapped up by several royal personages. They were the best and everyone knew it.

Once a threesome was formed with an Anderson, Hugh and Sullivan, they would be coupled for life. It was a very demanding job, you had to always be alert and watching. Never a moments rest. Depending on your companions, it could be unpleasant as well. But the rewards were handsome if you lived to receive them. If not, your family earned an eight-figure settlement and a monthly pension.

The current Hugh and Sullivan had been guarding their master ever since they had gotten out of the academy at 14. They had both finished their training early and top of the class. Despite being only a few years older than Blaine at the time, they had stuck to the age-old formalities. Though, they were much more than that. Wes and David were the closest people Blaine to friends, albeit ones that were instructed to follow and fulfill your demands. After all, who wouldn't be even a little bit frightened of this intimidating teenager with the same attitude and authority as an adult?


On their return to America, Wes and David had been concerned and puzzled about one of Blaine's decisions but they held their tongues until they boarded the Anderson's private jet, set back for America. "Blaine?" David asked cautiously

"Yes David?" Blaine asked, tilting his head towards the African American boy opposite him, looking up from the screen of his PowerBook where he was trying to get a headstart on the translation. David and Wes shared a look as if they were having a silent eye contact argument on who would ask Blaine the question they had been dying to spit out the whole car ride to the hotel, then the plane. Apparently, Wes had lost as he piped up curiously "Why didn't we leave the sprite to die and just keep the Book?"

"Ah, good question." Blaine abandoned his current project, sitting upright in his chair facing his chaperones. "You see, a corpse is evidence. Since we used my way, the People will have absolutely no reason to be suspicious."

"The sprite though." David remarked

"David, I really doubt that she will willingly confess that she showed her Book to a human. For precaution though, I mixed a slight dose of amnesiac into the second injection. When she wakes up in about eight hours, she won't remember a thing" All three of them slumped back in their chairs with satisfied smiles while Wes and David shared a surreptitious appreciative nod. Always two steps ahead, that's what Blaine aimed for and achieved every single time. He was forever predicting and accounting for any possible mistakes in his flawless plans. People always remarked that he was going to follow in his father's footsteps. They disagreed. Blaine wasn't just going to follow in his father's footsteps, he was going to trample and walk right ahead of them.

All concerns cleared and the pressing air lifted, Blaine returned to his project of translating the Book. Wes turned to his copy of Guns and Ammo and David picked up his phone, going through the latest wrestling competitions. It was a satisfied silence, one you didn't get a lot of when hanging around this unusual company.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Leave a review or I will assume there is no interest in this and I have spent an entire day composing this for nothing. But now I really need to do something and in order to do that, I need to directly appeal to the Artemis Fowl readers. If you have any ideas for future casting especially in the later books, please either PM me or leave a review with your opinions. I'm stuck for Briar Cugeon so far, so help? Anyway-

Thanks to all of you who read this,

~Scarlett