CHAPTER 6

REWARD

Hammering sounds came from the parlor as Myles and Beckett pounded in nails for their Christmas stockings. "I hope Santa gives me a frog puppet," Myles was jabbering.

"And I want a new Santa hat," said Beckett meaningfully. "What do ye want from Santa, Artemis?"

Their older brother only walked down the hall to the foyer. "I'm after something more important than knick knacks from St. Nicholas," he muttered. "Really!"

Artemis scorched his hand on the doorknob. The leprechauns had put a frying spell on it. He picked up Holly's mirror.

"Root, ye are monitorin' yer correspondin' magic mirror, I presume . . ."

"Aye, mud-rat."

"It's not wise to antagonize the hostage-taker. Ye think I'm daft do ye?"

"What do ye want?"

"I would just like to inform ye, that in spite of yer attempted betrayal by sendin' a troll to attack, I am still willin' to negotiate."

Root spat on the ground. "Sent against my wishes."

"The fact is that it was done. Whatever trust we had is gone. Here is my ultimatum. Ye have thirty minutes to send in the gold, or else I will refuse to release Holly. Furthermore, I will not take her with me when I leave the time-field, leavin' her to be disintegrated by the explosion."

"Ye will have twenty-four carat gold."

Artemis smirked. "Thirty minutes. I'm waitin'. But not for long." He settled into his swivel chair, thumbing an extra bottle of Holy Water on the desk. "Nice work, Butler," he commented. "Ye can't deny magic now ye've defeated a troll."

"Well. . ." said Butler.

"For Heaven's sake! How can ye still reject actuality?"

"There are lots of animals, always evolvin'," said Butler. "Komodo dragons have thick skin."

"A machine gun, Butler. How could a komodo dragon survive a machine gun?" Artemis slid his hands down his face. "And the leprechauns? And bein' healed? What about those things?"

"There could be any number of explanations for those things without resortin' to magic," Butler explained. "It could all be an elaborate hoax."

"Keep the faith, old friend! The end is in sight."

"Aye, Master." Butler forced a smile. "I trust ye, Artemis."

There were seven sharp, close-together knocks on the door.

"Tis the ransom, so it is!" shouted Butler.

"Check for traps."

Butler stepped onto the porch. Green blood stains and shards of disintegrated gargoyle lay beneath his feet. A trolley glided across the threshold into the lobby.

"Open it," breathed Artemis, his voice trembling.

Butler hefted a bar from the stack. He dug the tip of a knife into the gold brick, gouging out a sliver. "Tis real all right," he said.

"Good. Very good. Begin unloadin' it, would ye? We'll send the trolley back out with Holly."

Holly took Artemis by the shoulders. "Ye cannot escape! Don't ye understand?"

The boy returned her gaze. "I can escape, Holly. Look in me eyes and tell me that I can't."

"I try to be good!" She spat, and grabbed the bottle of Holy Water. She pulled off the cap and threw it in his face.

"Enough!" Artemis wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Drips had gotten on Holly's elbow and it was emitting green smoke. He breathed in and out, reached for the empty bottle, then paused.

"Now," he said. "About yer magic. What would I have to do to buy a wish? I think I have a new idea."

Butler was more than a little surprised. "Ye gave it back?"

Artemis nodded.

"Why, Artemis? After ye pushed me to go against me conscience. Ye are the one makin' an ethical decision?"

"I suppose so." The boy smiled. "I felt we owed Holly somethin' for helpin' ye with the troll. That, and . . ."

"Yes?"

"Well, twas that Holy Water, Butler." Artemis slid off his chair, and paced the floor. "If a religious blessin' holds real power, and sacred items evidently affect creatures, perhaps tis time to consider the correspondin' morals, so it is."

"Hmm." Butler scratched his head.

"Especially," enthused Artemis, "Because we may die in an explosion. Though I can't get to the sacrament of Confession, we will have to quickly make an Act of Perfect Contrition."

The boy strode to the kitchen. He poured Butler a glass of lemonade.

Butler looked his employer in the eye. "Ye want me to drink this for a reason, don't ye?"

"Aye, Butler. I do." He turned and called over his shoulder for Myles and Beckett. "Here, you two, try this new recipe for lemonade I made."

"Yer actually not ignorin' us?" Beckett asked, as he and his twin walked slowly into the pantry, licking candy canes. They each took a glass of yellow liquid, and swallowed the contents.

"Tastes like paint water," said Myles, and instantly collapsed onto the floor. Beckett did the same.

Butler drained his glass, and Artemis watched his friend sink to the ground.

Fowl Manor was rinsed in blue, and not a blade of grass more. The time-field spell evaporated.

An orb of blue light crackled through the air, speeding into the medieval stone walls of the manor. There was an explosion.

Behind the medieval walls lay the bodies of a million insects, and under its floors the corpses of spiders and mice. At the border, Holly kicked a nest of dead money-spiders. The magic had killed all the creatures on the property.

Fowl Manor rejoined the world.

A voice called Artemis' name. Butler was awake. Myles and Beckett sat up and rubbed their eyes.

"It was just sleepin' pills," Artemis told them. "I knew we'd awake soon, with achin' heads, none the worse for the baffin'. I'll elaborate more soon."

"Artemis, ye've gone insane. Explain yerself now. Then I'm finished with ye forever."

Artemis lowered himself into a comfortable chair. "I understand." He lowered his voice. "The time-field was the key to this whole affair. Don't ye see? They're gone."

Butler glanced through the curtains. "They're gone for now. They'll be back tonight, I guarantee it."

"No. That's against the rules—says so in their book. We beat them. That's it, game over." He stretched his legs. "A big factor in me decision was Santa Claus."

Butler's eyebrows jumped. "Santa Claus?"

Artemis raised his palms. "Santa Claus is a faerie figure who interacts with humans, distributin' lavish gifts. Flocks of his sprites are sent out to deliver the presents while humans are asleep. Now what if the humans had woken up?" He pressed his fingers together.

"Well, ye see, we wouldn't wake up," he continued. "He uses a time-stop. So me theory was that the only way to escape the time-field was to simply fall asleep. Our own consciousness was all that kept us imprisoned. Not to mention, he's a saint and represents a staggerin' amount of generosity, makin' me conscience all the heavier." He paused, then added, "Reminds me a bit o' me father with his toy store."

"Ye risked an awful lot on a theory, Artemis."

"Not just a theory. We did have a test subject."

"Who? Ah, Angeline."

"Yes. Me mother. Because of her narcotic-induced slumber, she moved with the natural order of time, unhindered by the time-field. That was when I knew what had to be done."

"Master, shouldn't we check on yer mother?"

"Yes. I suppose we should." Artemis cast his eyes upward, along the stairs, but the loft door had already opened.

Butler drew his weapon instantly. "Artemis, behind me. Intruders."

The boy waved him away. "No, Butler. I don't think so."

A figure appeared on the stairs. Angeline Fowl descended, one hand resting on the banister. Her bare feet skipped over the carpeted steps, and soon she stood before him.

"Mornin'," she said brightly, free of the curse that had muddled her mind. "I'm so sorry. For the last few months, I haven't been meself. But things are goin' to change. And I didn't even have a present for ye. But I did find this from yer father's inventory." She gave him a skateboard, a t-shirt to put on instead of always wearing a fancy suit, and a bag of lollipops.

"A present?" asked Artemis, putting his hands to his heart. "A toy? A t-shirt? Lollipops for me?"

"Of course," sang his mother, spinning him around. "Is that what ye are wearin' to Mass? Don't ye know what day tis? Christmas Day!"