Book One
Ryn wouldn't lie, she was pretty pissed.
It was around five in the morning and she was charging up the stairs, determined to drag her cousin out of bed and wring his neck enough to turn his face blue before Butler could separate them. She'd thought she and Artemis had an understanding, a mutual agreement, "you stay out of my business, I stay out of yours" sort of thing. It was why he didn't comment on her spending nine or ten hours a day playing video games in the basement or neglected to begin school, and why she didn't ask about Aunt Angeline or what he did since he never seemed to be to be in school.
She thought they did. Up until her level of Mario Kart had inexplicably frozen up. That was what—seven, eight hours of work? All down the drain.
Oh, someone was going to answer for this.
Honestly, the only reason she was even up this time of night was because of a sudden ice cream craving that turned into a game binge that may've gone on a bit too long.
Regardless, Ryn had an impulsive nature, a really bad attitude, and a short, explosive temper. She stormed out of her basement hideaway and made her way to the set of stairs that led to the second floor, where she was sure her cousin's bedroom was. She had to consciously force herself to slow her pace so the heavy footsteps of her boots wouldn't alert anyone to her presence. She'd only been living in the manor for about a month, so her easily forgotten presence provided the advantage of surprise. Which she didn't want to lose.
The manor wasn't familiar in any way: big, overly extravagant, and very expensive. Nothing like the modest three-room, single story Illinois house she'd been raised in. She had no desire to modern castle/prison fortress "home".
Rounding the corner, she was surprised to see she didn't have to climb the stairs. Artemis was already awake, and dressed too. He was descending down the stairs and heading for the front door. Ryn retraced her steps and hid in the corner behind the door, grateful her clothes blended in the dark. Ryn had an…interesting sense of fashion for a 12-year-old girl. Her combat boots, worn cargo pants, long-sleeved Bon Jovi t-shirt, and denim vest were all in shades of black ranging from angry storm cloud gray to faded biker jacket. She also still had on her gaming gloves—which were originally made for martial artist who didn't want bloody knuckles. The only exception to her chosen color pallet was her hair, which was light blond and much longer than she usually liked. Though she managed to amend that with a few sets of black streaks running from the roots to the tips.
Artemis reached the foot of the stairs and paused momentarily at a mirror to straighten his tie before resuming his far-too-carefully-controlled pace and opening the door after only a brief hesitation.
"Good evening," he said. Ryn hated to admit it but she was impressed; her cousin could do evil almost as well as she could. Maybe they were related after all.
The figure at the door was about the size of the average four-year-old, but had the form of either a grandfather still working full-time or an army general overdue for retirement. He had his palms up in a pacifying matter.
"You're Fowl?" he asked. Ryn snorted slightly at the unintended pun.
"Artemis Fowl, at your service. And you are?"
"LEP Commander Root. Right, we know each other's names, so could we get on with this?"
"Certainly."
"Step outside then. Where I can see you."
Ryn rolled her eyes. Sure, step outside. Right into plain view of him and his backup (1,000 on Team Fortress 2 hadn't been for nothing). Artemis must've thought similarly.
"Have you learned nothing from my demonstrations? The ship? Your commandos? Do I need to kill someone?"
"No," Root said hurriedly. "I only—"
"You only meant to lure me outside, where I could be snatched and used to trade. Please, Commander Root, raise your game or send someone intelligent."
Not a bad line, Ryn thought. She'd have to remember to use it sometime.
"Now you listen to me you young…" Root exclaimed angrily, cheeks turning rosy. Not a grandfather then.
"Not very good negotiation techniques, Commander, to lose your cool before we even get to the table." She could practically see his sly smile.
Root took a few deep breaths before speaking again in measured tones. "Fine. Whatever you say. Where would you prefer to conduct our talks?"
"Inside, of course. You have my permission to enter, but remember, Captain Short's life is in your hands. Be careful with it."
Allowing an obvious unfriendly character into the house? And leave Artemis alone with him? Butler must be having a stroke.
The pair moved down a vaulted hallway and Ryn followed close behind.
Of all the places in the house, she hated this particular hallway the most. It was filled with large, creepy portraits of Fowls from generations past. Each one reminded her of her own family. There was one from the 18th century that had Dad's ears. Another from the late 19th or early 20th century had Isaac's nose.
She did her best to keep her eyes on the Commander's back.
Finally, the two passed through a large, fancily crafted doorway to a large conference room. Ryn remained outside, this time hidden behind a potted plant beside the open door, peeking through the crack between the hinges. Upon entering the room, Root's demeanor changed immediately. He pulled a half-chewed, mossy green cigar from his vest.
"Maybe you're not such a barbarian after all," he grunted, exhaling a huge cloud of green smoke.
Ryn rolled her eyes. One of the things she learned about her cousin was that even though he was evil, he was the sophisticated kind. It seemed to be a thing for his branch of the Fowl family tree—if you're gonna be a villain, be a classy one. Ryn, however, didn't care much for class.
Root pulled out a flask from his hip pocket, poured a purple liquid that for all she knew could've been alien fluid into a glass, drank deeply, belched, and then sat down.
"Ready?" Artemis asked, shuffling his notes casually as he waited (which she'd learned was his way of pretending to be polite when he was really impatient or irritated). "Here is the situation as I see it. I have the means to expose your subterranean existence, and you are powerless to stop me. So, basically, whatever I ask for is a small price to pay."
As a fan of strategy and battle, Ryn didn't believe in being "powerless to stop something". There was always a way, provided one took the right initiative.
Root spat something. She guessed a shred of his mutant tobacco. "So you think you can just put all this information on the internet."
"Well, not immediately, not with the time-stop in effect."
Artemis said this casually, but Root choked on a lungful of smoke and Ryn's right eyebrow arched up, intrigued. Her Mario Kart game was a multiplayer she'd been having with her friends back home. If time had stopped at the manor, it'd explain why her game had frozen.
"Well, if you know about the time-stop, you must also know that you are completely cut off from the outside world." Root said seriously. "You are, in effect, powerless." Ryn had to hand it to the Commander; he'd definitely done this before. It was a weak point—after all, Artemis had Butler—but still a good one.
"Let's save some time here. I grow weary of your clumsy bluffs." Artemis said, not looking up from the legal pad he was scribbling on. "In the case of an abduction, the LEP will first send a crack Retrieval team to get back what has been lost. You have done so. Excuse me while I titter. Crack team? Honestly. A Cub Scout patrol armed with water pistols could have defeated them."
Sure, if those cubs were six-foot black belts and their pistols were filled with gasoline. Ryn didn't know what crack team her cousin was referring to, but she still itched to deliver the remark. Idly wondered if Artemis put forth a conscious effort to annoy people or if it just came naturally.
"The next official step is negotiation. And finally, when the eight-hour time limit is about to run out, and if no solution can be reached, a bio-bomb is detonated, contained by the time-field."
Bio-bomb. Ryn made note of the word to look up later in her vast mental reserves of fictitious weaponry. Though the name alone gave her a pretty clear idea.
"You appear to know an awful lot about us, Master Fowl. I don't suppose you'll tell me how?"
"Correct."
Hm. Quick, short, and to the point. She used a similar method when she used cheat codes or looked up how-to's but didn't want to tell other players.
Root mashed his cigar into the fancy-looking ashtray. "So, let's have it, what are your demands?"
"One demand. Singular." Artemis replied as he slid the legal pad across the too shiny table. Root read aloud, as if knowing she was there.
"'One ton of twenty-four-carat gold. Small unmarked ingots only.' You can't be serious."
"Oh, but I am."
Ryn was every bit as surprised as the Commander. Partially by the demand itself—currency was easy to forge these days, especially for someone with Artemis's resources—but also the fact that it was so precise. She had a feeling that her cousin had been planning this awhile.
It also reminded her of the supposed Fowl family motto, Aurum Potestas Est. Ryn didn't like it. She'd been raised by a single parent with three older brothers, she was used to money being a nonrenewable, precious resource. And a motto like "Gold is Power" made it sound like that was all anyone in her father's family cared about.
Root leaned forward. "Don't you see? Your position is untenable. Either you give us back Captain Short or we will be forced to kill you all. There is no middle ground. We don't negotiate. Not really. I'm just here to explain the facts to you."
Ryn smiled. Scare tactics. Cute.
"Oh, but you will negotiate with me, Commander." Artemis replied slyly.
"Oh, really? And what makes you so special?"
"I am special, because I know how to escape the time-field."
Ryn listened for lies. But it was too hard to say—Artemis was her cousin, and she knew by now that he could bluff as well as she could.
"Impossible," snorted Root. "Can't be done."
"Oh, yes it can. Trust me, I haven't been wrong yet."
Root tore off the page detailing the demand, folding it into his pocket.
"I'll have to think about this."
"Take your time. We have eight hours…excuse me, seven and a half hours, then time's up for everybody."
Both parties were silent for awhile. The only sound being Root's tapping fingernails. At one point he took a breath to say something, then seemed to think better of it and abruptly stood.
"We'll be in touch. Don't worry, I'll see myself out."
Artemis stood as well.
"You do that. But remember this, none of your race has permission to enter here while I'm alive."
Root stalked out the room, up the hallway, and out the door—glaring at the ancient portraits the whole way. Artemis was soon on his way out as well, assumingly back up to his study. He didn't notice his cousin's hiding place even as she rose from behind the plant.
"Well you've been busy, haven't you?"
Artemis instantly turned on his heels, wide-eyed to meet his cousin's amused grin.