Artemis Fowl II rubbed at his temples, momentarily breaking his stare-off with his desk computer. Big Arty was twenty-five years old today. That morning he had awoken muttering, "Twenty-five is five fives. Today is the perfect time."

He was celebrating by tackling his research harder than ever. No amount of Butler's protesting had kept him away from his computer.

"I have a job to do," he had replied the last time his old bodyguard had interrupted him. "No power on earth will keep me from doing this job."

Arty now glanced at his computer clock, finding that nearly an hour had passed between then and now.

"I suppose he's given up," he muttered absently to himself. But Arty knew that Domovoi Butler had never given up on anything willingly, and most likely was never bound to.

Sure enough, five minutes later, it was Butler's bare head that burst through Arty's office door.

"It's dinnertime," he growled. "Your mother's fixed her 'Angeline Entrée.'"

His mother's "Angeline Entrée" had always been Arty's favorite meal, and the whole household knew it. The Angeline Entrée consisted of twice-baked potatoes, steamed vegetables, and a dish of lasagna.

"I'm not hungry, Butler," Arty replied, just as his stomach complained loudly. He crossed his arms over his stomach, hoping in vain that Butler hadn't heard the sound. His prayers went unanswered—he knew they would. Butler's senses hadn't dulled over the years.

"You know you are, Artemis," Butler retorted, "and if you don't come down here and eat right this minute, I'm going to ground you from the computer. For a month."

Arty swiveled his chair toward Butler. He was shocked. "You're—you're going to ground me?"

Butler was serious. "Yep."

Sighing, Arty crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I'm not fourteen years old anymore, Butler."

"I know."

Arty glared at Butler as if he were still fourteen years old. "You've no right to."

Butler snorted. "Oh, maybe not. But since when have we worried about rights?"

Arty was still glaring. After a pause, he sighed, pushed back his chair, and stood up. "Oh, all right."

He walked down the stairs in a huff, with Butler close behind him. Arty reluctantly paced into the dining room to find everyone already seated and the food set.

"He's here, Mom!" thirteen-year-old Beckett Fowl shouted excitedly. "Can we eat now?"

"Wait just a moment, dear," Angeline Fowl told her son gently. "Let's wait for him and Butler to be seated, first."

Beckett sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. His twin was being more behaved, as usual. Myles had his hand folded neatly in his lap, and he was looking at Beckett with a disgusted look on his face.

Artemis Fowl I, who was the father of the family, was sitting at the head of the table, with Angeline at his right, and at his left was Beckett Fowl. Juliet, being the twins' bodyguard, was sitting down in between the two.

Arty sat himself down in a chair across from Myles, and Butler sat in between Arty and his mother. After getting everyone served, the family began to eat.

"What research have you been doing, Arty?" Beckett Fowl asked his older brother, his mouth full of potato.

Arty swallowed his lasagna. "Don't talk with your mouth full," he replied. "I don't think I'll tell anyone until I can make some more progress."

"Is it something more about fairies?" Myles asked sincerely.

After getting the Atlantis Complex ten years ago, Arty had decided to come clean to his family and tell them all about Holly Short and the rest of them. They had thought him a little loony at first (which he was), but after persuading Holly to meet them, they had finally believed him.

"No—but close."

Myles pondered this.

"Please, Arty, tell us," Angeline said.

"I'm not telling anyone yet, and that's that," Artemis said crossly.

There was a pause as everyone went on eating in silence. Arty had a distant look on his face, and he actually smiled to himself once. The twins stared at him, and his parents exchanged looks.

"Arty," Angeline said cautiously.

Artemis looked at her impatiently. "What is it, Mom?"

"Are you—are you seeing anyone?"

Arty looked at her for a moment and smiled. "I suppose you could call it that."

Angeline smiled. "Good! What's her name?"

Arty paused. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

Arty glanced at his younger brothers. "Only if they promise not to blab—to anyone."

Myles, the quiet one, nodded. Beckett grinned. "Is it Holly?"

Arty's smile quickly disappeared. "No. No, it isn't."

Beckett raised an eyebrow. "Is that why we have to promise not to blab?"

Arty nodded gravely.

"I promise, then," Beckett said, sincere for once. He really liked Holly, and he knew it would break her heart if she found out that Arty was dating someone else. Hey, he didn't live in a cave.

"Well, who is she?" Angeline asked, losing her patience.

Arty grinned again. "Her name is Artemis."