Alright, due to popular demand...if three reviews counts as "popular demand", I am putting up three more chapters of my fic. Thanks a lot to those who have read so far, and I hope I don't disappoint. Onward!
CHAPTER FOUR
Butler was ready to go, no doubt about it. The years of devotion to his Principal had left him needing almost desperately to find him, but he wasn't a fool. He had been asleep for six years: so much had happened that he was unaware of. Before loading up his weapons and shipping out, he had to make a game plan, and the first step of the process included watching the news. He waited through a few advertisements: a hair gel, a new brand of toaster pastry, and a report on the bestselling book of an author that he had never heard of before. He took note of all of these; he had found that in his profession it was best not to leave out any details.
"Butler, are you sure about this?" Holly was very skeptical about human news, as was Butler himself, but it was better than nothing.
"I have to know something about this world that I'm diving into, don't I?" She nodded grudgingly; he was right, as usual. He skimmed through the fifteen news programs that the satellite at Fowl Manor received before settling on CNN, one of Artemis' regulars. On the screen was a picture of a clean-cut man, about forty, who had apparently been found in an abandoned warehouse with no memory of the experience whatsoever. The caption under his picture gave his name as Gerald Marcus Forsythe. This Butler did recognize: while working at the Manor he had purchased quite a few bottles of Forsythe vintage, the best American wine on the market. Despite having this prestige, he could not see what would bring someone to kidnap a man like him. Holly felt much the same.
"He looks pretty useless to me. Why kidnap him—and then let him go? Suspicious." He nodded, turning up the volume of the television:
"…only clues available to the police were an opened bottle of Forsythe vintage, made in 1945, one of the rarest years on the market. Also found at the scene of the crime was a crystal flute with only one set of DNA found on it: the DNA of Mr. Forsythe. Mr. Forsythe came into no physical harm, save for rope burns on his wrists and ankles…"
Suddenly Butler rose to his feet, going downstairs and into the wine cellar. If his suspicions were correct, there would be a bottle of vintage Forsythe missing from the rack.
"Butler? What's wrong?" Holly called down to him, but he was too preoccupied with the fact that he had been right. There was one space vacant in the wine rack: the space reserved for a 1945 bottle of Forsythe wine.
"Holly? I think we have our first clue." He pointed to the label that designated the missing wine and Holly's eyes widened. "Odd, isn't it, that Mr. Forsythe should lose his memory, just after drinking a glass of his most famous wine? No physical harm came to him, so the memory loss must have come from some internal source. But who is smart enough to create something like that?"
"You think that it was…him? But why? Why Gerald Forsythe? He has nothing that Artemis wants. Does he?" Butler shook his head.
"Presumably not, but as of right now, that is the only clue we have. I think we should head to America. After all, it would be the last place that we would expect Artemis to go, am I right?"
"You're right. Artemis wasn't very fond of it…especially after his last visit." Neither of them wanted to remember Jon Spiro. "To America?"
"To America." Butler went back up to his room and opened up his gun cabinet. "I'll have to pack lightly." He took his favorite Sig Sauer from its holster, along with a few stun grenades and a long-range rifle, just in case. In his suitcase he packed a few extra guns and ammo, hoping that he wouldn't need them and that Artemis was safe and sound.
"Pack lightly? Oh, what am I talking about?" Holly rolled her eyes and checked her own gun, looking out the window where Juliet was revving up the family's helicopter. "I bet you are so proud, aren't you?" Butler smiled, latching his suitcase shut.
"Very. Shall we head out?" Holly nodded. She couldn't believe it; another adventure with Butler. The only thing that made it incomplete was the absence of her favorite teenage mastermind. But hopefully, they could remedy that soon.
"Hold on, Arty." She whispered beneath the whirring of the helicopter blades. "We're coming."
Elais and Lillian stood outside in the chill of New York City, watching his just-recorded interview outside of an electronics store. They had only recently left the studio, and she could tell that he was unhappy with what he had just accomplished. She nudged him with her elbow, trying her best to make him feel better about something that he hadn't wanted in the first place.
"Hey. You look good on the tube, my friend." It was true; he had a beautiful camera face. The makeup team had taken all of the sharp edges and shadows out of his pale skin, and the fresh hazel of his eyes (that to Lillian appeared almost supernatural) sparkled in the lights of the stage. Of course, his expression was flawless: indifferent and intellectual, as he had always endeavored to be in the public eye. But it didn't matter; she reckoned that his sales would fly up within the hour.
"This whole thing was a joke. Some of the questions that he asked could have been surpassed by the intelligence of a dog." She had to laugh at that one.
"Don't be such a sourpuss, Elli." She had concocted the pet name for him when she had gotten tired of saying the whole thing. He hated it with a passion, but when she was trying to focus on shouting her client's writing onto the shelves, she tended to forget the intricacies of personal preferences.
"I told you not to call me that. It sounds idiotic."
"Oh, stop it. I think it's cute—and no amount of whining is going to stop me." He was stubbornly silent after that, pushing the sleek, dark sunglasses that concealed his identity further up his face. The scarf that kept his mouth and neck warm was beginning to itch at his skin.
"Lillian, let's go back home. I've become rather weary of New York." She nodded and began to call a cab. They had had to park their car in another garage, in order to even have a chance at escaping the crowd of vehicles that always seemed to clog up the streets. While she did so, Elais looked around him, taking in the sights and sounds of New York. 'Deep beneath the rancid surface,' he thought, 'there must be some kind of inner beauty to this cesspool of a city.' Otherwise, would so many artists and musicians be drawn here, called by the hoarse siren song of the Big Apple? As he let his senses wander, across the street he saw a trio of figures hurrying along, casting a very strange silhouette; their heights were so varied, that they could have been a lost circus troupe: small, medium, and very large. "Lillian?" His voice carried the faintest tone of unease, but for Lillian, it was enough.
"What?"
"Make that cab fast. I want out of this city now." She frowned, placing a sun-browned hand upon his shoulder.
"Elais, what's the matter?" He brushed it away as if it had simply been a greenfly that lighted upon his leather overcoat, struggling for life in the bitter cold.
"Don't pander to me! Get the cab!" He snapped at her, his voice practically frantic compared to his typical monotony.
"Alright, alright! But you are going to tell me what's going on as soon as we get home. You hear me?" But Elais didn't hear him. He was too busy staring at the back of the monstrous man, carrying an equally monstrous suitcase, neatly shaven head glinting in the sun, his heart clenched in fear and, perhaps, even a bit of hope, an emotion that he hadn't felt for a very, very long time.
The cab finally came and the two quickly crawled inside, savoring the warmth and trying to ignore the filth of the cab. Thankfully, the valet that had taken Elais' car—a Cadillac, in a beautiful shade of cabernet—to park had done so very closely to the studio exit. Elais tried his best not to let the backs of his thighs touch the stained cushion of the seat. Of course, Lillian didn't mind; she had sat in worse.
"Elais…what happened? You sounded terrified." He did not look in her direction.
"I thought I saw trouble coming, that is all. I'm not quite as used to New York as you are, Lillian." Elais had chosen a semi-rural location for the construction of his super-modern home; one that Lillian felt surpassed even Fallingwater in aesthetic beauty and function. How he had found an architect skilled enough to create such a magnificent house, she would never know. It was nestled right outside a minor city that framed New York's outer limits: convenient, but not glaringly obvious. A perfect location, for a writer of his stature.
"Well, don't fret about it. Let me worry about trouble; I know enough about that place to smell trouble coming." He almost laughed.
"Not the kind that I saw." She rolled her eyes; sometimes he said cryptic things like that just to get in the last word. She decided to let him have it…this time. The cab stopped and the pair exited, much to the joy of her client, who dusted himself off and smoothed his hair. "So—let's get out of here, huh?" He nodded, settling himself in the driver's seat, drowning his fears with the burning stench of gasoline.
Butler, Juliet and Holly arrived at the hotel that was to become their base of operations. It was exquisite for Mud Man standards, Holly noticed, but then again, she shouldn't have expected any less. Butler was always certain to get the best. Quickly signing in they retrieved the card keys to their suite and made their way up to the sixth floor via elevator.
"The good thing about huge cities like this is that nobody questions how you look." Juliet mused as they rose through the chute. "Otherwise, we probably would have had to dress as a family."
"And I guess I would be the snotty-nosed brat, right?" Holly grumbled in response, and Juliet snickered.
"Well, I would say you would look rather nice in a little jean jumper."
After unpacking his things, save for the weaponry, Butler called the two women to the small kitchenette, where they sat at the table to discuss what to do next.
"Holly." Butler glanced over to the fairy woman, whose hazed eyes intently bored back at him. "It would be best if you kept a channel open to Foaly and the LEP as much as possible."
"Already ahead of you; I checked in with him before we got here. But as for the rest of the LEP...well, they don't really know I am here. Only Trouble knows why I'm here. The rest just think I'm on some urgent mission."
"You are on an urgent mission." There was no nonsense in Butler's voice.
"Yeah, I know. So, what's our first move?" He sighed, leaning back in his chair, which looked like it should've belonged to a baby compared to his size. Holly was almost afraid that it would break beneath him.
"I think we should go check over that warehouse. I know that the police have already combed through it, but…they don't have LEP technology. There may or may not be something there, but for now it's all we have. We'll go tonight, we should go unnoticed then." 'Should?' Holly thought. 'Butler is never noticed unless he wants to be. This will be a breeze.' Cracking her tiny knuckles, she gave Butler and Juliet a toothy grin.
"Should be fun." Butler then turned to Juliet.
"I need you to get into the police department and get any evidence that you can. I'm sure that you can think of some way to get in, am I right?" Juliet smiled innocently.
"Oh, I'm sure I can come up with something…" Holly worried about the police officers for a split second before remembering why they were doing all this in the first place. Broken bones healed eventually.
"Holly." Butler once again addressed her. "You may be one of the biggest hints that we have." She cocked her head to the side, a puzzled look on her face, until she remembered.
"My eyes…" The manservant smiled and nodded.
"There isn't another person in the world that has eyes like yours, save for Artemis. That link between you is bound to help us somehow." Unconsciously, she reached up and touched the soft skin beneath her right eye.
"Well, I hadn't realized how much this would come in handy." She sighed and reared her seat back onto its back legs. It was only a matter of waiting for night to fall now. That was when the work would begin. She hadn't been this excited in weeks. Her blood was practically bouncing in her veins for anticipation. A real challenge had come her way, and yet again it was Artemis that posed it…even if he hadn't meant to. Deep inside her, she hoped that this really was just another one of his hare-brained plans, his way of making Holly's life harder for his own amusement. But he wasn't twelve years old anymore, and she tried to remember that more than anything, and tried even harder not to underestimate him.
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