Bracelet of Mentality
Disclaimer: See chapter one. Yeah, yeah, props go to Colfer. Don't give me credit for his works; I'm afraid I'm not that spectacular at writing. I do, however, enjoy screwing up his characters and allowing mine to beat his to bloody pulps. Very entertaining.
Setting: Fowl Manor, Dublin, Ireland. Fowl's personal airliner.
Chapter 6: The Truth of Hearts
A quick check of the security cameras, the motion sensors placed strategically throughout the house, and all other traps or ways of being noticed; all was clear. But that didn't mean it was safe. Discretion and spy-like qualities would allow him to survive this ordeal and make it safely to the destination of his desire.
Butler dodged into the computer room avoiding the direct path of any nearby cameras that he knew were bound to catch him if he weren't watching. Artemis was out cold in the master suite having not slept in a day or so. Juliet was packing for the coming trip, preparing not only her won personal effects, but supplies that would be needed for the jet stretch of the journey. Mulch was…well, to tell the truth, he didn't know where Mulch was, but he wasn't too worried. If all else failed, he could kill the little guy, bury him, and tell Arty that he was snooping and had to be taken care of.
Computer monitors stared at him with cold, lifeless looks. And yet they seemed to portray some sort of emotion, whether it was betrayal or concern, disbelief or anger. They knew what he was doing, why he was there.
Oh, to hell with those idiotic things. They couldn't think. They were just machines, nothing more. And yet his hands shook. Dammit, why can't I handle myself? What the hell is wrong with me? Control yourself, man. The only way to save that kid is through Holly. That calmed him sufficiently enough to stop the nervous jitters of his hands. The manservant slid into the nearest computer chair, logged on and pulled up the Internet. It was time to get to business.
He had secured an e-mail address from Holly, so now he must gain one of his own. After a few minutes of surfing, he found one on an Internet and phone providing company somewhere in America. Once he'd signed up, Butler proceeded to write Holly explaining everything that had occurred in the past weeks. He suddenly halted as he thought of the closing; fingers tapped furiously at the keyboard.
Please, Holly, I need your help. I'm asking as a friend, one who respects you very much. Artemis is losing himself, and I'm worried he'll be lost to it forever. Find out what you can about these items of power: the Amulet of Quietus, Ring of Sagacity, and Bracelet of Mentality. Why are they affecting him and not the Sisters? I don't know what's going on with him, but he needs your aid, my friend. I can only do as he says, and at the current time I'm not sure I trust what he says or thinks. Please hurry. We leave for the Castle of Frond at noon tomorrow. Again, he needs you. I know things have happened in the past that would stop you from helping; don't let past aggressions halt your reaction now. If you don't help us, the entire world will suffer under what I fear are insane hands.
-Butler
P.S. Look up someone who calls himself the Mercenary. I'm not sure where he comes from or what he is, but he's been following us around the entire time and threatens to end Artemis. Again, thanks.
He finished typing and began to read it over. It had a pleading sort of voice to it, not one he could usually be heard using. Was he that desperate to help the kid? Even his subconscious hadn't been able to notice his desperation. Throughout the typing he had done, pleading for the safety of the world and his one true friend, Butler had recognized the honest underlining of his own message: he was scared and didn't know what to do. He requested aid to guide the youth whom he called Sir, but in his heart called compadre. They'd been through so much, he was afraid to lose the kid to something like insanity, or to the fairies.
The bodyguard flinched. Someone was in the room. Hurriedly, he sent the letter, exited from the system, and pulled his .9mm pistol from his waist belt. Although Butler had aimed it at his own height, he soon realized his target was much smaller. Several feet smaller in fact.
"Mulch. What are you doing here? How'd you get past my security?"
The dwarf, who was usually smiling despite any situation, had lost his insane grin. He held a small piece of metal in his hand, which he extended to the human before him.
"For you," he said unemotionally, "from Holly." The man took it from him, and Mulch slipped back out the same way he'd come through. The door slithered shut behind him.
The metal turned out to be a communicator of a simple nature. He slipped it on his behind his ear, and it nestle quite comfortably there. A miniature computer screen dropped down from it, settling in front of the corresponding eye. Most fascinate about this object was that it blended to your skin tone, and the computer screen was visibly solely to your eyes. Complete discrete. Butler liked it, very much so.
He detected a small buzzing noise in it moments before the computer screen bloomed to life, and Captain Holly Short met him face-to-face in a sense.
"So, Butler, I've got your e-mail," said the computerized version of the elf. "I've not had proper time to investigate everything, but I'm working on it right now. If Mulch seemed a bit out of it, that's only because I made him my official messenger. Once I found out how he was involved- and I mean from the beginning for this all- I had to do something. He's bound to help me until the end of this little adventure, and if he doesn't, I promise to find a way to bar him up in jail for at least a century, if not more."
"Good to hear from you too," Butler responded with a grin. "Nice device you have here. Very sleek."
"Thanks. It's new on the market, called a…um…. something Communicator. There's a label on it somewhere. Look at it later, but right now- on to business. What I've got on the Sisters of Doom so far, is that what you'd like?" He nodded his head, then remembered she wouldn't be able to see that. Butler answered yes, and Holly plunged onward.
"Once upon a time, in a kingdom long ago -and I mean long ago for you- there was a King who loved his highly destructive daughters very much. He loved them more than life itself, and so, when the youngest of the Sisters decided she didn't want to reek ruin upon the peaceful world, he could not let them die as they wished. He had created the Guardians before hand, to watch over his girls and protect them if for any reason they needed protecting, and he knew they wouldn't be able to kill the Sisters. That didn't mean his daughters couldn't commit suicide though, and he knew it.
"So Frond decided to create a time loop. He was the King at the time, so leeway was given to him, although nowadays any one who attempts it is thrown in prison for the rest of their lives. Every time they die, their souls are thrown back into the system, instead of passing on. They are reborn into new bodies, and almost always find each other in the world. The time loop worked, and the Sisters remained blissfully unaware of it.
"Now, as for the Mercenary guy. He was a creation of different sprites that did not support the war, nor King Frond. They made him from their combined magic and turned him into an anti-Sister weapon. The Mercenary cannot be destroyed by their magic, and can kill them with his magic or by hand. The catch is that, although he is saving the world from the Sisters, he doesn't want to be alive any more than the original Sisters did.
"That's about all I've nabbed right now. Anything else?" He asked the first question that came to mind.
"This war you keep mentioning- who started it, and what was it over?"
"Ah, the first literal World War. Long time ago, around a millennia, first generation of the Sisters of course. Ironically, they weren't involved with starting the war." The sound of her typing on a keyboard was all that broke the next moment of silence. "Yeah, they were born about a hundred years before the war, but they weren't the cause of it."
"So what was?"
"I'm looking, give me a second. Ah, well…that's interesting. The start of the war is debatable, it would seem. No one really knows who or what started the war. Most fairies think that the humans heard of Frond's plans to make the Weapons of Power and hand them down to his daughters. Other fairies think it was just the knowledge that our type existed, and the need to destroy us before we were too powerful, or some load of dung like that. Give me some time, I'll talk to Foaly about it and see what he says."
"Alright, that's fine. My next question is why was Frond creating those weapons in the first place, and what ended the war? Was it the Sisters, or someone else? Also, who was the first person to go and try to harness their powers, and did he succeed or not? When you get all of that, get back to me. Wait, is there any way you can signal with this thing before it lights up and you start talking? Artemis doesn't know I'm talking to you as I've told you, and I don't want him to know any time soon."
"Yes, I think there is. There should be some buttons on the side that are adjustments- oh no, you can't read Gnomish, can you? Hm…let me look at mine real quick, and I'll write down the one you want."
He waited patiently as Holly did this, copied down what she showed him, and then thanked her and disconnected. As she said, there was a button on the side with the same symbols and in the same order. She had said it meant vibrate and would do such. It reminded him of a cell phone.
Once he had turned it on, he noticed the label on it. The writing was in Gnomish- and English. Ironically, it was the only label written in both languages. Did that mean this would be available in the Mud Man world as well as the fairy one? These fairies were taking interesting steps now that they knew humans were advancing. Of course, the human race itself was nowhere near as technologically advanced as the fairies, but that didn't mean they couldn't use a boost every now and then.
It was called the Personal Universal Communicator, P. U. C. for short. Evidently, it allowed you to contact anyone anywhere in the world at anytime. It also guaranteed Internet access and didn't sport a keyboard as it didn't need one. The voice recognition program would type e-mails and Internet websites at command, and followed almost any dialect and language. It worked as a translator too and would speak for you if you gave it the words you wanted to be said (handy for sticky situations in foreign countries where you didn't speak the local lingo).
Already, this pocket-sized gadget was Butler's new favorite toy.
A sweet, sizzling roast that smelt of rosemary. Succulent, bright fruit. Tender, warm, fresh French bread. Stewed broccoli mixed with chopped carrots from the countryside and tomato soup. Red wine, purified water, juices of varying fruits - all served in crystal goblets. Ah, the meal of conquerors. Well, technically, the first course of the meal of conquerors, but who was being technical?
Artemis sat at the head of the table waiting as patiently as he could muster for the Sisters to arrive. They had been offered a wardrobe change by Juliet -at Artemis's own recommendation that is- and although he didn't think any of them would accept, it would seem that at least one had. Either that or they had caused trouble. Again.
Alas, the sound of footfalls upon the stairs; they were coming. He sat up straight, smoothed out his rumpled clothes and smiled. Yes, there they were. And as he had expected, one of them had changed- only one.
The White Bringer wore a dazzling nightgown of midnight blue. The cloth rumpled here and there, falling nonetheless in a graceful pattern to the floor, covering the tiny feet encased in flat slippers (high heels were too risky around these girls). Her hair was up in a bun, just the right amount of it falling out and in just the right places. Yes, the White Bringer was quite the creature of poise and sensuality. Artemis caught himself with these thoughts and looked away. No one was supposed to have that effect on him. No one.
The Silent Reaper wore the same dismal uniform of black she had arrived in. Somehow, he was sure the outfit was a protest to him and Juliet who had beaten her effectively before hand. The camera that was stationed in their room- and at such a unique spot, inside the upper portion of the window seal- had seen and recorded everything. Even if he hadn't been there, he had been able to see Juliet turn Deidra into a sack of aggravated but mushy potatoes.
Betraying Angel still wore the clothing he had previously provided: white shirt, black slacks, black socks, and comfortable trainers. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it looked like she had taken a knife to them, slashing them here and there. Upon closer inspection, he noted that he was indeed correct. Out of defiance, Amara had slashed and ruined his clothing. See if I give her anything again, he thought.
Following them up came Juliet who dawned the usual black and bleak outfit that her job required. She seated each of the Sisters separately, unchaining them from the main network of shackles, which was attached to herself, and reattaching each girl where her specified seat was. Once they were all accordingly stationed, Juliet then made her leave to retrieve her older brother and the second course of the night. Butler would be feasting with Artemis and the Sisters just to guard the boy from anything that the three might be able to pull off. Juliet was stuck as chef and server.
Artemis looked up as the door closed; he was alone with the Sisters of Doom. Somehow, he had that dropping feeling deep in his stomach that said this wasn't good.
"Butler, where are you?" he heard his sister call to him and knew that the nightly meal was ready. Butler hid any incriminating evidence of his computer connections with Holly, checked his P. U. C. to make sure it was invisible, and exited his rooms.
"Here," he replied simply.
"What are you up to?" came the suspicious question of a younger sibling.
"I was meditating," he said truthfully, for he had been. It was the only reason he hadn't gone crazy yet. Since this whole event- especially his confrontation with the Mercenary- Butler had been extraordinarily on edge. An increase in the time he spent meditating had saved him in a few lies he'd told Artemis, for a calm mind has no problem with not speaking the truth. "Are you ready?"
"I was here to ask you the same, you slow poke. Artemis is beyond impatience right now, so you'd best move it into high gear my brother."
"I wish you wouldn't speak like some low-raking back woods child. You were raised to be better than that."
"But it's so much fun to agitate you, o blood relation of mine," she whined. "I bet," he said with a frown. Younger siblings could be such a pain. "Well, I'm on my way there now. Is the jet properly packed?" He regretted the question, knowing a smart-like answer was around the bend.
"No, I packed it improperly, just the way you like it. What do you think? Now, get a move on. I've got to prepare the second course, and you've got to protect Artemis from those nasty little girls." Her bother froze in his spot, staring her down.
"You left him alone with those three? Juliet! Are you stupid?" He took off at a full fledge run before she could reply.
Two hours later, everyone was peacefully seated in the Fowl's personal jet, the Sisters not sedated but tied securely and at a distance from Fowl Jr., who had taken aspirin to dull the pain of a mauling by two of the three and was currently asleep.
When Butler had entered the room, Amara had been pinning him to his chair via her own chair (he still wasn't quite sure how she had managed that feat), Huyen had been struggling with her restraints and shouting at her sisters, and Deidra had been crashing her chair backwards down onto the evil mastermind, screaming her insults to the table and successfully bruising the male teen's legs and many ribs.
Though he'd not suffered any major wounds, several cuts had resulted and bled, and his classy tuxedo had been demolished. Butler had physically pulled Deidra from him, throwing her to the floor, not caring if her bones broke from the force of it. Her head had smashed into the stone, knocking her out for a brief period of time. The manservant had used that time to lock her hands behind her and haul her upright into her chair. The dinner had gone on normally except for Deidra who'd ignored everyone after that. Butler sat next to her, his eyes scarcely leaving her like a hawk that would be damned if he lost this hunt.
Once the jet was fully lifted into the air, everyone had settled down. The Sisters shared a sofa near a window while Artemis laid in a sofa several rows back, out cold due to the pain and drugs. Butler sat in front of the Sisters but a few feet from them. It was a strategic thing. Not only could he watch them from here, but they also couldn't plot with him so close. That left Juliet being pilot, and Mulch…well, he was in a very similar spot: the rear of the plane, pouring his guts into a tiny toilet bowl that would forever stink of the regurgitated remains of whatever it was he had eaten. A seat even farther back contained the two now fully conscious Guardians.
Butler was finally relaxing, albeit the fact that he was angry. He'd thought Juliet was better trained than that. To leave the boy alone with those monsters! How could she? His dangerously precise eyes fell on the girls again, and he started. Each of them was tense, sitting up straight despite restraints, and looking about cautiously. What was-
There was a brilliant flash of light. Butler ducked away quickly, avoiding the worst of it. He heard Juliet in the cockpit demanding to know what was happening. When he knew for himself, he'd be sure to replay the info. to her.
The giant man finally worked up the courage to peek out from underneath his arm, viewing the interior of the plane. Everything was in order, and everyone where they had been…except for one. There was a person standing there, dressed in black, face hidden by a shroud of the same deadly shade.
The Mercenary, Butler hissed mentally.
"So nice to see you again," commented that mysterious voice which belonged to the figure. "I've come with my last warning to all: avoid the Castle of Frond, return the Guardians to their homes, and leave me the Sisters, or you'll not survive this journey. I would suggest turning back now. If you ignore me, you've signed over your lives to me," he stated, smiling under his garments. "The hope that this generation of Sisters would be the last has, as always, vanished. I will destroy them yet again, fulfilling my end of the deal, and send anyone else to their proper place."
"And where would that be? Hell?" Butler shot back, suddenly angry.
The Mercenary remained perfectly still for a moment. He reached up and carefully pulled down the shroud covering his head. Raven black hair covered his head, uneven and sticking up randomly. A face that spoke of infinite youth bore itself to them. Smooth, milky tan skin covered him. His face was broad, his jaw strong, but when you looked at him as a whole, the brutish jaw line meant nothing. He was shockingly beautiful- there weren't words to describe it. The man placed meaning to the word gorgeous, outdid stunning, and put shame to the word pretty.
But the eyes…cold, ruthless. They deterred even the bravest of warriors. Butler felt his heart drop out as those solid black orbs met his. There was such pain behind them, but no way to let it out. He shivered and had a feeling he knew the answer to his own question. Such pain had to have at least one outlet.
"Where? With me. For ever."
Author's Note:
I am finished! Yes! One thousand words over my usual chapter, but I'm sure no one minds. Finally, just one more story to go. I apologize for not getting this up sooner. I had it pretty much done for some time, but hadn't had the chance to send it to my beta, Heather, due to Pit Orchestra. We (Heather, myself, and many others) played in the musical at school…played the music for the musical, that is.
Anyway, I've been writing these stories for a little over a year now, and just wanted to thank everyone who has read for reading and reviewing. It means a lot. Moving on! Catch the final addition to this series, Scythe of a Slayer. You don't want to miss the ending to this one guys!
Love you all very much,
Finelley
