A/N: Much thanks to my reviewer, DemonofShadow. You really made my day!

Also - maybe I was a little ambiguous on this, but Artemis still doesn't have his memory back… not yet. I was continuing from the end of the last book - where it hints that Artemis will be looking for magic again. Except, of course, this time, he stumbles onto something completely different…

Chapter 2: The Eye

Captain Holly Short was a very accomplished faerie, both a decorated officer of the LEPrecon unit and the official expert on Artemis Fowl. Unfortunately for her, she still had a very large chunk of her life ahead of her - and very little left to do. Elves have always been the most emotional of all the faeries and the most susceptible to depression, and Holly was no exception. She had done everything the government shrink (a spindly pixie with glasses far too large for him, and an annoying habit of saying "Hm-mm") had ordered, but nothing seemed to work. Even the month-long holiday at the mud baths had only deepened her growing sense of worthlessness. So she had gone back to duty, filling her time with trivial jobs and menial work, hoping to at least divert her energy, even if she couldn't seem to stop moping. But more and more she found herself volunteering for the aboveground expeditions, especially the periodic inspections on Fowl. Maybe she was just being nostalgic, but the weekly check-ups reminded her of the old times.

"Huzzah for good old days," she muttered sardonically. Ever since giving Fowl the mind-wipe treatment, things had become dull - no more exciting, life-threatening adventures with a stuck-up thirteen year old genius. She almost wondered if it was worth being court-marshaled, just to say hello to him again, see if it brought back any old memories…

"Short, we have an incident."

Holly started, and thanked her lucky charms she didn't go into a tailspin - she could almost swear that Root could read minds. How else could he have known to pick this exact moment to contact her?

"Someone's tipped us off on a case of counterfeit magic, and I need you to investigate. I'm sending the coordinates to your helmet's computer."

Great. A pointless job custom-tailored to waste my time. Why not?

"Yes sir," she said aloud, unenthusiastically, and cut off the conversation by revving up the engine on her especially noisy, standard-issue, pair of wings, and, with a cloud of smoke, she was gliding over the English Channel. If it bothers him - well… he can get over it… she thought.

As London approached, she checked her coordinates again, just to be sure she was heading in the right direction.

What is a dangerous magic counterfeiter doing at the Eye? she wondered.


"Artemis Fowl Senior, and my wife Angeline. You've already met my son."

Artemis Fowl continued to eye Harry, and abrubtly wished that Butler was here with him. Somehow, the old bodyguard's presence eased his mind. But, since the heart attack, his parents had insisted that he stay at the manor and rest. "After all," his father had said, "who would want to kill us?" He had a point, Artemis grudgingly admitted to himself. He couldn't imagine anyone who might possibly want to kill him. Still, the feeling of paranoia remained…

Suddenly he realized that everyone in the pod was staring at him expectantly.

"Ah… hello…"


"Holly? Is that you?" Foaly's voice rasped over the helmet's earpiece.

"If you had your radar on me, you would know," Holly snapped back.

"Whoa - hold your horses - do I hear insubordination?"

"Checked your ears lately?"

"Not in twenty years. Root's not too happy, you know. Lucky for you, he was called off - the Goblin's are rioting - again."

A pause, and then…

Are you at the -- have you found them yet?" Foaly asked.

"Give me a description. Please."

"Nice to know you still have manners." Before Holly could whip up a snappy reply to that one, he continued, "Adolescent male, lanky, messy black hair, glasses."

"Anything else?"

"That's all I've got."

Muttering something about the general uselessness of centaurs, Holly flew from pod to pod, peering inside to identify the occupants.

"You found them yet?" Foaly's voice.

"No, not -- D'arvit…"

"I'm assuming that means he's there."

"Oh… yeah, but guess who else…"

"Don't tell me… it's Fowl, isn't it…"


"How much longer?" it demanded softly. "They're almost to the top."

"Not much…" muttered the man, sweating. He wished fervently that he had never gotten involved in this mess, that he had just stayed home today, watched some football on the telly, let his wife yell at him… But he knew it was too late for that now. Somehow he sensed that even if he hadn't shown up, these people would have hunted him down. They would find him, no matter where he went…

"Countdown," he whispered, fighting off a shudder of having his back to such a visibly evil creature. "10… 9… 8…."

"Soon, my master… soon…" it crooned depravedly.

"6… 5… 4…" the man continued bravely… "3… 2… 1… GO!" He pressed the lighted button marked 'Detonate'.


Several things happened all at once. A loud bang sounded as the the dynamite concealed along the bottom of the capsule discharged. The glass floor shattered, and the Fowls, the Dursleys, and Harry, fell through, gravity guiding them towards the brown, polluted expanse of the Thames River below.

At that same moment, a motorboat charged from its hiding place behind a wharf, heading towards the area where the former occupants of the pod had splashed down.


"D'arvit!" swore the centaur. "And… I'll bet my hat… it has something do with Fowl…"

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