Ghosts of the past catching up to you.

Chapter 5

Sew Lane, Sanctum City

"Artemis Fowl is not stupid. He knows. I know he knows. He stared at me for 5 whole minutes yesterday, left and never came back in the office." Holly said, blinking away the tears in her left eye. Narcissa just resprayed her with the thingy. Now the pixie was applying mascara on Holly.

"Artemis Fowl is also logical. What's logical about seeing your dead, fairy lover alive and human? Don't cry, Holly. I'm sure him not showing up again means he loves you."

Stubborn as ever, Holly hasn't given up yet on convincing Narcissa there was no love lost between her and Fowl. "He's not my lover. And I'm not crying. That spray can hurts and don't get me started on the eyeliner you forced me upon."

"Really, can you honestly say that you haven't connected or kissed, even just for one moment in time? Stop blinking, you're smearing the mascara."

Funny you should mention time, Holly thought bitterly. Sensing that she should retreat, Holly changed the subject. She scanned through her tablet.

"Anyways, I was hoping you could help me out. Artemis' schedule is filled with party stuff. Food tasting, flower selections, venue touring. What's that about? Artemis Fowl doesn't do color scheming." Holly chuckled, picturing Artemis contemplating what color goes well with pink.

"You work inside Fowl Complex and you don't know that Victory Day is coming up in a few days?" At Holly's blank expression, Narcissa continues. "Victory Day: the anniversary of Haven's surrender and the Society's existence. You know, Hail Humanity! Planet-wide holiday. Artemis throws this huge festival in each residential street and Satrap. He just makes a speech, which is aired everywhere live from Fowl Complex, then everybody eats and dances and shouts hail humanity randomly until dawn. You have to let me dress you up."

Haven's surrender. Amidst all the emotional rollercoaster of seeing Artemis, Holly forgot why she was here in the first place. It's long decided that she's going to kill him. In fact, she's going to do it today. Point a gun at him, say some witty one liner and shoot the traitor straight in the heart.

Then she suddenly realized she had no gun. Not even a knife. She can't exactly kill Artemis with her nails which Narcissa French manicured (aka drilled and hammered) to perfection. Today, she's going to get a gun.

"I'm late for work. Bye, Narcissa." Holly stormed out of their house before Narcissa could remember she hasn't harassed Holly to put on lipstick yet.

Fowl Complex, Sanctum City

"Master Fowl, the car is here." Artemis looked at the Humane. Repulsive creatures, those Humanes. Trained to kill mercilessly. They were his creations, of course.

He exited the manor, ignoring his Humane guards. They did not exist in his mind. In fact, in his mind, he just kissed his mother good bye, and he's off to shop for the twins' birthday presents. The driver of the Bentley he's about to ride is not a mute fairy but Butler, his old friend.

"Good morning, Master Fowl."

The mirage disappeared. Artemis snapped his head to the speaker, about to rebuke her for interrupting his thoughts. Then he realized it was her. Yesterday was not a hallucination, then. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five. He arranged his features to impassiveness.

Holly knew that look. It was the I'm-in-the-grips-of-my-mental-illness-but-I'm-trying-to-hide-it look. Pity surged through Holly. He was not fully cured from Atlantis, then. She wanted to hold him, and tell him it was okay, just like before.

Ten, his driver, cleared his throat. He was waiting for directions.

"What is the first stop on the itinerary, Ms. Short?" He said, directing his gaze away from her.

"Um, it's Holly Ventura, actually."

Holly panicked. Her heart hammered. Her mind reeled. Short? Short? She thought. Maybe Short was the name of his last PA and his tongue just slipped. Yeah right.

Artemis panicked. His heart hammered. His mind reeled. Short? Short? He thought. Maybe she'll think Short was the name of my last PA and my tongue just slipped. She's dead, Artemis, and you're the one who killed her. Get a hold of yourself. You should apologize.

"You will address me as 'sir' at all times." Artemis said instead.

The fuck. All sympathy evaporated from Holly. She grudgingly took out her tablet and consulted his schedule and forced a smile.

"First up is Victory Day Promo shooting at Berkley Studios, A-list Avenue." Why don't I just kill you now to wipe that smugness off your face. She added silently. She left out the sir on purpose.

Artemis looked at her expectantly, waiting for the 'sir'.

Don't hold your breath, mud boy. Just keep hoping I don't find a gun soon. Holly thought. She looked out the window as they drove towards Berkley Studios, pointedly ignoring her employer. Between the enslaved fairy driving the car and the monster sitting beside her, it was the most lovely car ride she ever rode.

Berkley Studios, A-list Avenue, Sanctum City

"Arty, m'boy!" Edward Zabini greeted, clasping Fowl on the back.

Artemis grimaced inwardly. How dare Zabini call him Arty! His mother called him Arty. He detested Edward; the man thinks he controls Artemis. The genius flashed his partner his best vampire smile.

"Uncle Eddy! Or did you prefer Old Man Ed-ed?" Artemis said, matching Edward's jolliness. The smile disappeared from the Italian's face.

Holly resisted rolling her eyes. This was Artemis at his best. She followed her employer towards Studio 5. The inside was chaos. Directors were shouting and props were being hauled everywhere. The moment Artemis entered the room, though, everybody straightened up.

"Good morning, Master Fowl. I am Marcus Thaddeus, your director for today. It's a pleasure to be working with you, sir. Thank you for choosing Berkley. I believe our writer sent you the script in advance?"

Artemis Fowl looked sideways at Holly, one annoying eyebrow arched.

D'arvit. Holly swore, as she searched through her tablet. There. Victory Day Promo Script, to be given to Fowl ASAP before Prep Day. How was she supposed to know? She's been here for two days! Time to unleash her arsenal of Grub Kelp Excuses.

"Your people sent no such script to Master Fowl. I'm sure it's more of incompetence from your people than from ours. I will personally file a complaint, Mr. Thaddeus."

The director paled; obviously appalled that something went wrong with the Fowl project. He should be, as people who make mistakes concerning Artemis tended to disappear from Sanctum.

Artemis smirked. The script was in her tablet, and he knew she failed to give it to him. It was obvious from her body language. The girl had no idea what she was doing. And the way she defied him in the car! Plus, she's a living reminder and a replica of his dead best friend. Despicable, just like her elfin look-alike. He should fire his PA right now. Ventura was the last thing he needs, yet…

"Perhaps instead of gibbering to yourself and wasting my time, Mr. Thaddeus, you would give me a script now to work on." He said at the poor director.

"O-of course, sir." He handed Artemis his own copy.

After that hoopla, Artemis was whisked away by make-up artists and stylists.

Holly grabbed a chair and watched as everyone else worked. Two hours passed, but Holly was not bored at all. They tried to make Artemis do the traditional Victory Day dance with a woman dancer. Next, they tried to make him sing the Sanctum anthem. When he refused, they tried to make him lip sing. Then after that, the lighting people complained that he was too pale so the make-up people started tanning Artemis. When the genius realized he was starting to look like an orange vampire, he fired the make-up people. Everybody gave up, after that. Now they were setting up a fake office, so Artemis could sit on a desk and say the Victory Day slogan.

"Jolly, Master Fowl. Try to look jolly. " Marcus said.

"Hail Humanity!" Artemis said.

Holly laughed. The genius looked like he needed to go to the toilet. That was jolly for Artemis Fowl.

"Enjoying yourself, Ms. Ventura ?" Artemis snapped. That shut her up. His insolent secretary was laughing at him. He was about to add how she would enjoy herself in prison when he felt a childish impulse. Why not entertain himself before getting rid of the foolish girl? Time to play a little game.

While the lights were being adjusted, he took out his smart phone and dialed a number. "James? Yes. I need you to find out everything there is to know about one Holly Ventura."

Fowl Manor, Fowl Complex, Sanctum City

It was an exact replica. Holly knew it wasn't the real Fowl Manor since they were in the middle of what used to be the United States, but she was starting to doubt the fact. Maybe even a replica of her cell was still in the basement. She followed Artemis and his entourage towards the dining hall. The same Fowl portraits followed her movements, and she felt the urge to blast the lot of them with a neutrino.

The fake ceiling of the banqueting hall was back. Angeline had it removed, a long time ago.

"We chose a variety of caterers for this year, and my team already narrowed down the menus." Holly remembered that this year's Victory Day organizer's name was Mark. He joined them shortly after they finished shooting at Berkley.

"I always skip the promo shooting, since it's always a disaster. You don't want to be around Master Fowl when he's in a Fowl mood! Last year, he closed down the entire studio. The director even went a little crazy and ended up in an asylum." Mark had whispered to Holly earlier.

"For our appetizers, we have…" Ten chefs entered the room, presenting dishes as Mark introduced them.

"It's Holly Ventura, correct?" It was Edward Zabini. As the head of the Society, he was second on Holly's murder list. Holly nodded, bracing herself for some mundane task. "Why don't you join us? You haven't had lunch yet either."

Before she could protest, or give thanks, or be repulsed by the fact that a fairy slave conjured up an additional table setting for her, she was ushered to a chair. She felt Artemis silently staring at her with his cool gaze.

"Here try this," Edward may have destroyed the Lower Elements, but he was a whole lot more civil than Artemis. She looked at the dish he offered and almost threw up. It was a bone, and the marrow was oozing out.

"I'm vegetarian, actually." She said, trying not to sound repulsed.

"Really?" Mark commented. "We never had a vegan selection before. Why didn't we think of that? How did the vegetarians managed, especially that year with Fairy lengua. "

Her gift of tongues told her that lengua was tongue in Spanish. Holly new little about cuisine, but she was starting to guess what Fairy lengua was.

"That chef had the nerve to serve that revolting dish." It was Artemis who said this. No doubt he exiled the poor chef to some horrible place.

"Not as revolting as those fairies." Edward said. "Remember that story you told me, Artemis, about the fairy you kidnapped? When Arty's maid gave her food, the elf demanded dolphin. Imagine, eating poor endangered animals!"

A laugh bubbled out from Holly's queasy stomach. The memory surfaced from her brain, recalling asking Juliet if they got any dolphin.

"Edward, I never 'tell you stories'. You heard that from the PI you hired to spy on me." Artemis said. He was seething for the Italian insisted on calling him Arty. "And I am certain that that elf was being sarcastic and unlike you, my maid was smart enough to realize it."

"Excuse me, but I really need to go to the comfort room." They had just served a kebab made of who knows what. Holly couldn't take the sight of it.

Both men stopped conversing. "Of course, Ms. Ventura." Artemis said, ever the gracious host.

Holly knew her way around Fowl Manor very well, but Artemis didn't know that. "Five, escort the lady to the lavatory."

A sprite materialized in the doorway. It was Five, Artemis' favorite house elf.

Holly froze. There, standing by the door with his head shaven and his tongue cut was Chix Verbil.

A/N: It's Christmas Eve while I'm writing this. Merry Chrismas, I love you all! Leave me a Christmas Gift (aka review)! I'm updating fast, since the last chapter was a little late. I'm having second thoughts about this one. It seems rushed, and boring. The next chapter's already written. I'm feeling inspired today. What do you think?

HollyArty Foeva, thank you for your suggestions! I really appreciate them. They're awesome! (She wasn't logged in so I couldn't reply)

Lengua is a popular Spanish dish here at the Philippines. It's stewed pork/ox tongue with ox tripe served with luscious gravy.