Nine: Fowl inDeed

Humiliation did not bode well with a Fowl. Especially if it was Artemis Fowl. One week, he had endured, but he could not anymore take the caddish onslaughts to his, admittedly inordinate, pride. Left Foot Fowl, if an accurate description of his gauche motor skill, was barely a decent moniker for someone with the nobility and intellect like his. He had to make his move—a crafty move so much more sophisticated than mere physical labour.

Artemis knew that, if aware, Holly would categorise the infantile deed as one his "fits of childish pique". But it was his ego at stake. He could not—would not—let this go.

This is hardly illegal, he reasoned. A smile stretched his lips at the excuse. Hardly, he repeated, effortlessly hacking into St. Bartleby's system in search for the cretin's family records.

"Hmmm. Edward Thomas Kane, heir to and son of Tom Kane. A hotel. How conveniently terrific."

The lowly boor should know his place, he thought.

Mr. Kane owned a hotel chain and one establishment was favourably located in County Limerick. It was a wonderful county and it would be nice to have a place to stay in for holidays: A handsome nineteenth-century manor in a scenic estate with a rich history of royalty, soon to acquire the name of Fowl. Highly lucrative and it would be killing two birds with one stone. Excellent.

His self-satisfied vampire smile was eerie, a sure sign that something nefarious was bound to happen.

Out of spite, it might be, but it was still business. And it was not all about spite.


"What is this, Arty?" asked Angeline. Her son had gone to a business trip that morning and returned with a set of hoary keys in his hand, held aloft in offer. "Keys? For what?"

"I know how much you love Curragchase, Mum," said Artemis in a voice that reminded her of a lecture. "And sometimes, you have to work with them for days, which can be tiring for a person without a comfortable place to stay. This is a present for you." He pushed the keys into his mother's hands. "Lá an mháthair faoi shona dhuit."

For a moment, Angeline stared at the keys with a slight frown. Then she smiled and took her son into a loving embrace. "Thank you," she breathed. "You need not to do this, but thank you."


Mothering Day (UK version of Mother's Day) is celebrated on the third Sunday before Easter in Ireland. Oh well, I celebrate it at the first Sunday of May (I love my mum). Tomorrow, because it's already Saturday in my time zone. Curragchase is a forest park in County Limerick, near Adare.

Idea came from Atlantis Complex's first chapter: . /downloads/atlantiscomplex_
Lesson: Do not aggravate a Fowl. He will take your hotel chain and dignity and offer them all to his mummy.