I know...start throwing the rotten food, I haven't updated in ages! At any rate I'll try to make this pretty good.. Heh, this is going to be pretty fun to write but I'm completely awful at suspense of any kind, so some pointers would be nice for the next chapter. Pretty please?
Okay, replies. If I miss you feel free to flame me and tell me so.
ty-maica3: Lol, sorry I kept you waiting that long! Gets to Artemis's nerves? Not quite sure what you mean by that, but if it's what I infer then yeah. Thanks! I know, the beginning's the difficult part of a book. I'm glad you're satisfied!
neutralgal: Thanks for cluing me in on the Mary-Sue definition. I hope Mortyx isn't looking like one...I hope my late update won't stop you from reading this fic!
Rakyo: How come everyone else has great names like Rakyo or RaevenDawn:) You really think I'm good? Believe me, Mortyx isn't happy with Artemis, no way she's going to just leave him be...
Wow! It's nice to know there are READERS with the same interests at me who care to drop a review! (Coughs at any lurkers who haven't died of boredom)
RaevanDawn: The only reviewer who I haven't scared away for at least one chapter! XD Lol, the reviewers haven't said much about it...methinks I need better cliffies, ne?
Anyway, that's half a page of into. 00 Time to start the story, with one last question. How do you put in asterisks, line breaks, and all that? Even when I edit on site I can't get them to show up!
Artemis looked half-interestedly at his reflection in the intricately designed hall mirror, a priceless
artifact as with much of Fowl Manor's items. A tinge of amusement quirked the corners of his lips.
Perhaps Juliet's less-than-subtle implications of vampirism("You look pale, Artemis. Should I bring
some garlic next time and a pint of AB positive?")were indeed somewhat founded-not to say they
were credible, of course. The boy had never been fond of the sun and outdoor activities. After all,
who could imagine Artemis Fowl the third playing baseball in a summery field? At age five he had
been no different than now, albeit that he was not taken for a full-fledged vampire but for a child one.
Artemis's hair was a deep raven black that somehow always dangled several rebellious strands in
hisface and his skin was like light cream- ivory, if you'll pardon the overused cliche (like glossy hair
the color of ravens' wings that came down to about her shoulders, sleek with the slightest wave in
it.).Indeed his eyes were the only oasis of color on his face (like someone else he'd met). A startling
blue as icy and frigid as the northern ice caps(wolf eyes, gleaming, lupine and deep)and as stoic as
the never-melting ice floes as well; his smile never seemed to reach those cold sapphire orbs(neither
did hers- she was, after all, a demoness-)
NO!
Artemis realized his hand had come up, poised to strike the mirror and send shattered shards flying.
Not in a fist but open-handed, so the sharp slivers of shining glass would bite savagely deep into soft
skin. The boy looked mutely at his hands in shock as though just seeing them for the first time. What
on earth?...why couldn't he just get those cold golden eyes out of his mind?
Yes, he knew it was
understandable that his thoughts would linger on her some- after all, how many demons-er,
demonesses, did you meet? Yet somehow Artemis did not think that it justified not saying a word
through dinner, pacing for well over an hour, not paying attention to a word of concerned inquiry
from Juliet and Butler, and nearly slamming his hand through a valuable mirror? It was a good thing
his parents were away at present, sorting out matters in Northern Russia. Artemis doubted his mother
would take kindly to his shattering one of the many authentic Fowl heirlooms from the 1800s. Why it
was still out in the hall he didn't know, but that was beside the point. There was nothing normal
about almost breaking a looking glass in a fit or rage because your reflection looks like a cunning and
conniving demoness, nor for every thought to be about glossy raven hair and a venomous feline
gaze...
"Did you really think that you could just ignore an encounter with the Night itself, Fowl?"
Artemis whirled around in surprise with unusually quick reflexes.
"Who said that?"
Pathetic cliches were the last of the enterpriser's worries, yet his cold snap was greeted with eerie
silence all the same. The only objects in sight besides spotless cream-white walls adorned with an
intricate pattern of fruit on the molding were a painting of one of his legendary ancestors, Romulus
Fowl, and a solid peach-colored marble pillar. Neither seemed particularly chatty today.
Artemis shook his head. Next you knew he'd be in the psychiatric ward at Saint Bartleby's wearing a
straitjacket ad screeching like a lunatic. Suicidal tendencies, responding to induced illusions of
voices, he may as well put himself on Prozac right now. Artemis carefully scoured the hall with
narrowed eyes one last time before turning and continuing down the hall with a curious sensation, as
though his heart was attempting to escape its prison in his chest through his throat.
A hazy figure, reflected in the mirror, silently watched him leave then slipped after him.
It glittered slightly in the dim room. Small, rectangular, a cover the color of slightly tarnished gold.
The Book. To be more accurate, Artemis Fowl's copy of the Book. The boy traced the arcane
symbols with one finger wordlessly, merely sitting against the wall and hugging the elvin creation to
him as though assuring himself it was still there. He knew there was no possible way it could be
stolen. It was protected by fairy technology as well as human. Yet there was something about
Mortyx's anger that had been almost...desperate. As though time were running out for her to get her
hands on the Book. Artemis knew that desperation often lent strength to an otherwise defeated foe,
the panic of it like a crackle of power that filled every crevice, every inch of the soul. And Mortyx
had wanted this Book more than any amount of wealth or anything else in the world. Who wouldn't?
This Book...this tiny four-inch book...was worth more to some than life itself. Wars had been waged,
lives had been taken, entire races were wiped out in the grapple of control for the small book that
held the secrets of life and magic, hate and love, and all in between. A feud of blood and betrayal that
had been raging for centuries. Those who desired the Book despised it for the same reasons, for the
tantalizing proverbial grapes just above their heads. So close, yet so far. Hate and love...opposites,
yet somehow so alike.
Artemis sat there thoughtfully for quite a while, clutching the book to his chest. In the darkness
another watched, as different from the Fowl heir as night and day, yet somehow sharing his thoughts.
Hatred and love, day and night. Where to draw the line between such anomalies? When to label one
as good, and one as evil? There were no such clear dividers. Only that one lonesome, wavering line,
blurred and broken in so many places.
Not much action, but I'm just setting up for the next chappie. A little foreshadowing to let you know that I'm still alive and I'll finish this story if it kills me! XD
Yeah, I'm terrible at suspense and the like. Shoot me.
RenegadeMustang
