Hi all!

Here's the next update, and yep it's ARTY TIME!

And this update is coming to you from a different country to usual because I'm back in good old England *waves flag*.

Uni is good so far.

I've learnt a few new phrases such as 'fuck-off-big' (as in "Oh my God, who brought the fuck-off-big Ikea knife?") and' tactical chunder' (as in "Ergh, I'm so wasted. I know I'm going to chuck later so I might as well do a tactical chunder now and save myself the trouble. Also, this way, I have more stomach room for even more drinking." In this way, a T.C. is much like what went on in a Roman "Vomitorium", but with a T.C. it leaves more room for triple vodka and lemonade instead of roast dormice.) These are charming sayings which I have sadly had to leave out from this chapter due to the fact that Artemis Fowl would implode upon utterance... Awww...

REVIEWER FEEDBACK!

Readergirl99 - Spoil sport.

HallelujahTheCreator - Because I know everything.

Khirst - Thank you :) And it's good that you're following, lol. Um, NO, Artemis isn't seeing what Holly's eye is seeing. The eye theory was just Holly having a guess at why the dreams are coming to her. Artemis doesn't have a clue that Holly is having the dreams.

Ru-Doragon - Here's the update :) Hope you're not too peed with me for posting it, lol. If it's any consolation this fic has been mapped out from start to finish and it's gonna be finished. Definitely. And the ending, if I write it right... oh my God. I can't wait for people's reactions.

Kida Ookami - Hey, thanks :) I've tried to put as much thought in to the plot as I can. I like to write things with twists and levels :) Congrats on your AS's by the way, I hope you got what you needed/wanted :)

Bibliolympian - 'Much better'? Good! And s'okay about the yelling lol, it amused me. Keep yelling. Let it out! YEAH!

silverpheonix - you got chills when reading my stuff...? That gives me chills! Seriously, that's so amazing to know. Effect achieved! And you like Annie? Brill. I've tried to make her as down to earth and real as possible. Gritty. Not Minerva -_- although I actually don't mind her...

CieloCrimisi - Firstly 'awesomesauce' is such an amazing word. Secondly, yeah I know in would be nigh on impossible for there not to be another Annie Shinner in the last four hundred years. I should have narrowed the search down to just Europe or Ireland or something I realise that now. But, hey hoo, the purpose of that bit was just to show that Annie Shinner doesn't exist on any databases. Thirdly, you though Holly tip toed out of character? That sucked to hear, but thanks for the honest criticism. I know it seems a bit weird for Holly to rush off for the Manor and skip parole and stuff but I needed to get her in those woods and do that scene, and also it was to demonstrate the power of the dreams. They like proper take her over. You'll hopefully see the aftermath of that in her talk with Trouble. Until then, I'll make sure keep an eye on her character and try to stop her doing stuff that's too off the wall :)

mischievous101 - Yep. I think TAC was at least a little disappointing to everyone. I was pretty gutted. So much more could have been done with it. I found Turnball's bits just boring tbh. Oh well. The next one's the last one so it better be an improvement. Thanks for the review :)

KusajishiFuktaicho - Read this chapter slower, lol :) But I'm glad that you seemed to enjoy it enough to read through from the beginning. Thanks!

Disclaimer - (Forgot this last time) *ahem* I AM NOT EOIN COLFER I AM A POOR POOR STUDENT LIVING ON RICE, MULLER RICE, AND RICE PUDDING *ahem* thank you. Now enjoy.

'I should not have named you Artemis... For now you will never be able to escape the consequences of my own sins.'

Chapter Six - No Chance

'Oof!'

'I say!'

'Slow down, imbecile!'

Artemis ignored them, continuing to barrel aside every drunken toff unwise enough to get in his way. A girl squealed as his elbow upended her glass and he barely glanced back as another feathered debutant was knocked carelessly into the nibbles stand.

'Who is that?'

'It couldn't be!'

'Watch out, Fowl!'

He felt the crowds smothering him on every side, thickening and building. His legs were burning, bile was rising in his throat, but he forced his way onwards.

'Oi!'

The Fowl heir was yanked backwards as a hand snapped out and grabbed his elbow.

'Who do you think you are?' yelled a ruddy faced boyfriend, his breath washing hotly over Artemis' face. 'Charging about the place like a rampant mare, have some decorum, man!'

'My apologies,' replied the teenager who twisted deftly out of his dinner jacket, leaving it hanging from the man's thick fist.

'Oh!' yelled the man, staring from the limp sleeve to the boy's retreating shirt back. 'I say, come back here! Come back you vagabond!'

Artemis ran determinedly onwards. His hair had fallen free from its well oiled back-comb and his un-tucked shirt stank of sweat, smoke and Clive Christian scent. He looked a far stretch from his usual impeccable self but felt none of the usual urge to stop and straighten himself.

My appearance be damned, hethought viciously, sprinting down a new corridor. There will be more at stake than my meticulous reputation if I do not reach my Father in time.

'Artemis?'

The boy started.

'Artemis, what are you doing?'

Butler was striding towards him, a mixture of disbelief and alarm writ large across his face. He reached out for his charge with one massive palm but Artemis avoided the contact.

'Butler,' he snapped before the Eurasian could get a word out. 'I need to find my Father, immediately.'

The manservant gaped briefly before recovering.

'He's upstairs,' he answered, his dark eyes roving over Artemis' dishevelled apparel. 'I saw him go up the west staircase around forty minutes ago,'

The teen baulked and staggered clumsily backwards before breaking once again into his desperate sprint.

'Artemis, wait!' bellowed Butler. 'What's going on?'

Artemis didn't turn back, choosing instead to launch himself into the next teeming passageway. He was forced to a jog as the crowds thickened quickly into a jam, and he noticed the following chatter and exclamations becoming softer, more practiced, as older upper-crust necks craned to catch a glance of the infamous 'Fowl Child' looking-

'So scandalously unkempt!'

He crossed the entrance hall with as much speed as he could manage to manoeuvre before squeezing through the doors to the main ballroom; entering a chamber so gilded it could have been built for the Romanovs. The whole space gleamed from marbled floor to frescoed ceiling as the golden theme that had begun in the antechamber spilled through into the walls, the lights, and even the glittering costumes of the masquerading serving staff. The Baron had dressed this room as a sort of 'cirque sophistiqué' with tightrope performers swinging high above the dance floor and trained gymnasts twisting through the crowds, serving champagne glasses from gold-leaved trays.

Artemis continued his struggle through the masses.

Where are you? Where are you Father?

'There you are, darling!'

The familiar scent of Caron's Poivre twitched up his nostrils and Artemis faltered in his step.

He twisted, and his eyes landed on Angeline Fowl drifting through the crowds towards him, party guests parting with shoal-like unity to allow her free passage. She was draped in champagne silk from bust to floor, with the Fei Fei blue diamond swinging low from her neck to rest glittering above her naval.

'Mother,' he acknowledged, already backing away. 'You are going to have to excuse me-'

'Non, non, non!' she protested, reaching for his arm and pulling him unwillingly back to her. 'Do not run away from me, Arty. You are always running away from me.'

She looked at him and pouted her carefully painted lips, firmly securing her status as the most beautiful woman in the room. Artemis felt frustration brew in his frontal lobe creating an instant headache. He could feel the eyes of other guests prickle on his skin and their chatter suddenly felt deafening, menacing...

I do not have time for this.

He fought the urge to just wrench himself away from her.

'I'm sorry mother but you're going to have to excuse me,' he said, raising a firm hand to dispatch her fingers.

Angeline, however, was unrelenting. 'Nonsense, Arty!' she said firmly, hooking her thin fingers tightly back around his bicep. 'You must come and meet some friends of mine. They are all very anxious to be introduced to you.'

He turned his head to protest again when the smell of her breath washed over him; fruity but with an underlying bitterness. It was then that he noticed the crystal bulb of the empty wineglass poised unsteadily in her free hand.

Mother has been drinking?

This new piece of information took the Irish boy off guard and Angeline was quick to take advantage of his distraction. She steered him swiftly to the edge of the Ballroom, using only her smile to part the crowds in her path. This was a technique that her son would never master; a son who was just now beginning to regain his wits.

'Here he is!' she announced finally, herding him to a secluded area where around seven women were gathered on Recamier couches. Angeline pushed Artemis firmly into their midst.

Mrs. Fowl beamed. 'Ladies, I do present to you!' she proclaimed, making Artemis feel very much like a piece of highly prized livestock being presented at a butchers market, 'my son, Artemis Fowl the Second!'

Fourteen judging eyes roved from the teenager's newly scuffed loafers to the top of his crow's nest hair, slowly taking in every damning detail. A woman in the centre most seat, an aged widow who looked like she'd been pickled before being sewn into her dress, wrinkled her nose before speaking.

'The Little Artemis,' she sneered, clutching her hand bag with expensive acrylic claws. 'Your mother has told us so much about you...'

Artemis nodded stiffly then turned once again to his parent.

'Mother, I really must leave you.'

'No, you will stay. And what have I told you about calling me "Mother", hmm?'

'Mother this is serious. I am looking for Father on quite urgent business.'

Angeline's smile tightened.

'He is engaged,' she said, peeking at the ladies over Artemis' shoulder who were all now whispering conspiratorially, 'with the Baron and a few other associates. He wouldn't want you barging in on him.'

'You know?' choked her son, his eyes widening. 'You know about his meeting?'

Angeline rolled her expertly outlined eyes.

'Of course I know, silly,' she laughed, brushing at some crease in his lapel. 'Your Father tells me about all of his business dealings! He's upstairs right now discussing a new environmental project. He's going to help save the world you know!'

Artemis looked at the happy pride in his Mother's face and felt his heart sink to his loafers.

So your lies have already begun, Father?

He hid his sudden distress by twisting his face back into its usual impassive haughtiness.

'I must find him,' he said firmly, his determination rising again. 'Whether he appreciates it or not, I must find him.'

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

'Find who?'

Artemis whipped his head around as his mother's face lit up. It was as if someone had flicked a switch behind her eyes.

'There you are Timmy!' she exclaimed, brushing hurriedly past the teenager. 'I was beginning to think we would be apart all night...'

Artemis Senior was dressed as the twin of his son, indeed if it weren't for the half a foot height difference and the larger patches of grey at each temple it would have been impossible tell them apart. The women on the couches were chattering now. They were slipping the Fowl patriarch coy glances over their glittering clutches, every one of them mentally salivating.

Angeline noticed her companion's glances and clutched her husband zealously.

'Calm yourself, Angeline,' laughed the man, as his wife clung to his suit jacket. 'Have you been drinking?'

The woman hiccupped guiltily, looking up at him with hooded eyes. 'A little.'

He sighed lightly. 'Then I guess it's time we were leaving.'

Artemis Senior turned his attentions finally to his son. 'Arty boy?' he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. 'Are you ready? Or are you still looking for that someone?'

Artemis forced himself to meet the elder man's eye.

'No,' he said quietly. 'I have found them.'

The man nodded, either missing his eldest son's comment completely or else just choosing to ignore it.

'Where's your Butler got to, Arty?' he queried out loud, as the boy continued to stare at him. 'You'd think with all the bulk he's built over the years he'd be a bit easier to spot!'

Angeline chuckled along with her husband and Artemis clenched his fists.

Suddenly his manservant's gargantuan upper-torso became visible at the far end of the hall and Artemis Senior grinned triumphantly.

'There he is!' he declared. 'Quick, family! We must catch him while he is still within our sights.'

Angeline giggled excitedly at the thought of a chase and clung eagerly to her husband's hand.

'Artemis?' she called, holding back for her son. 'Are you coming?'

The teenager didn't answer for something had diverted his attention; possibly the only thing on Earth that could have at that moment.

Oh God.

Angeline Fowl tugged at her son's sleeve. 'Artemis?' she questioned, peering into his static face. 'Artemis, are you ready?'

He let her take his wrist but kept his gaze fixatedly to the western staircase; looking to the man who was currently descending the last velveteen step.

He was tall, much taller than Artemis, with harshly cropped blonde hair and a weathered face that made him seem older than his twenty one years. He wasn't dressed to impress, not in any sense, in fact with his un-tucked shirt and a chin dark with stubble he seemed determined to achieve the opposite effect. He looked sloppy and sneered at anyone unwise enough to give him a second look; to the entire world, a common hooligan.

But Artemis Fowl knew better. He knew the man's eyes better.

Look at me, prayed the teenager, as his mother tugged fruitlessly at his sleeve. Please, just look at me.

The taller man reached the bottom of the stairwell and casually scanned the crowd.

Artemis glared determinedly in his direction.

Come on.

Then, suddenly, brown locked against hazel and blue.

And everything came back.

The specific tint to her irises as she'd laughed at something he'd just muttered, the precise way they'd glinted as she'd tickled him under their bed covers, the way they'd filled with tears that day to mingle with the rain-

'Please! Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!'

'Get off me!'

'No! No!'

'Artemis! Please! Your Father is getting impatient.'

The teenager blinked.

'Yes...' he said faintly, the chatter of the hall rushing back to his ears, 'of course...'

He gave Callum Shinner's eyes one last glance before pulling away, allowing his mother to trail him swiftly back through the crowds.

Once inside the Bentley only Angeline made any sound.

'Oh that was wonderful!' she gasped, allowing her head to flop dizzily back against the leather rest. 'I have not laughed that much in company for a very long time! Madam Ricksmore was on top form! She told us this uproarious story about how a stray kumquat had slipped down the front of her gown during the Gilligan's Ruby wedding anniversary and how she was forced to keep it clenched between her thighs all evening for fear of letting it drop! Oh we were rocking!'

Artemis Senior tried for a smile but only managed a sort of oral twitch.

'I'm sure it was very funny, darling,' he said stiffly. 'But perhaps it was one of those stories for which you had to be actually present to truly appreciate the humour.'

Angeline's smile dimmed. She straightened in her seat and coughed delicately.

'Yes,' she agreed. 'Yes, maybe it was... but I had a wonderful evening darling, just wonderful...'

Artemis Junior was sat opposite his parents, keeping his back flush with the leather interior. His only movement came with the motion of the vehicle; otherwise he sat completely still, keeping his dark eyes fixed to his father.

'I know you wanted me with you tonight,' murmured the Fowl Patriarch close to his wife's ear. 'I wanted to be with you also. However, neglecting your company was a sacrifice I made in order to do well, Angeline. Finally, I am making head way with my promise of creating a better world for our children. Can you forgive me for that..?'

Angeline turned back to her husband, her usual soft smile back in place albeit with a slightly drunken dopiness.

'I can indeed,' she whispered, leaning into his arm. 'What wife could not? I simply long to have you with me, Timmy, like it used to be. Like we used to be...'

'I know. I know.'

Artemis coughed, causing both his parents to look up in surprise.

'Mother informed me that your meeting involved talk of investments,' he said, gazing steadily at his Father. 'May I inquire as to what assets were discussed?'

Artemis Senior looked suddenly wary. It was a subtle change; a slight tenseness in the brow, a trivial turn of the head, but to Artemis his features were screaming.

'You may,' replied his Father, adjusting his position so as better to face his son. 'I was presented with an opportunity to fund a new environmental project. One of the Baron's associates has come up with a new carbon filter that, in theory, will be capable of diffusing 97% of all future harmful emissions. Victor sought the help of investors to bring the project into a quicker reality.'

'And did you agree to assist him?' breathed Angeline, staring up at her husband.

Artemis Senior smiled in return. 'Of course, Darling,' he whispered, taking her hands in his and smothering them. 'I made a promise to you that I would save the world...'

In the seat opposite Artemis pressed his thin lips together and continued as if there had been no interruption.

'It sounds to be a worthy investment,' he said. 'Tell me, what were the terms?'

Angeline frowned slightly at her son, although her addled brain didn't quite understand why.

Artemis Senior seemed simply to survey him.

'I am expected to pledge eight million for the first six months of development. Then another ten million to bring the filter into mass production.'

'Euros or dollars?'

'Dollars.'

One of Artemis' eyebrows raised a single millimetre.

'That is quite a sizable commitment...'

There was a brief moment of silence as both father and son looked at each other.

'And your point, Artemis?' asked the elder softly. 'I shall assume that this interrogation has a purpose?'

'Oh, it is nothing really,' he replied, casually waving a pale hand as if to demonstrate how complete his detachment was. 'I was simply thinking that eighteen million is a very large chunk of money to be investing in something that will probably retain no personal profit; especially in something as vague and as scientifically questionable as a "new carbon filter". I have never even heard of such a development. Has it even been patented? It has not been mentioned in any recent scientific journals, and by the way you describe it, Father, it sounds to be a truly groundbreaking discovery.'

Artemis paused, and spoke his next words quietly but with unmistakable clarity.

'Really,' he said, glaring into the eyes of his elder, 'for a project that sounds so woefully insecure, should you really be putting your neck on the line?'

In the instant the word 'neck' was spoken everything inside the car changed. It was as if the vehicle had been plunged into Arctic waters. A new silence pressed on the three occupants of the Bentley and suddenly the premium air-conditioning felt to be ten degrees too low.

Artemis Senior was looking at his son as if he wished he had a knife to hand.

'Don't question your father,' chastised Angeline, who was either completely oblivious to the sudden tension or attempting to clumsily cover it. 'I am sure that this project is a brilliant thing to invest in. My Timmy always knows what he is doing...'

The noise in the car changed and the unmistakable grating of tyres on gravel rattled inside the plush compartment.

'We are home,' noted Artemis Senior softly, his dark eyes still fixed unfalteringly on his son.

Angeline was the first to get out, not bothering to wait for Butler to open the door for her.

Oh!' she gasped, tottering a few feet from the car before sucking in a long breath. 'Isn't the night air just wonderful, darlings?' She flung her arms towards the stars and twirled tightly so her dress spun out from her legs. 'So clear, so fresh! Beautiful!'

Artemis Senior snapped his gaze away and followed her swiftly into the night. Artemis Junior stayed where he was, just staring at his Father's vacated head rest. After a few seconds he realised he wasn't breathing. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a long and shaky drag of oxygen before vacating the back seat.

'It is a pleasant evening,' he heard his Father say as he cleared his head of the car's black panelling, 'but it is time to go inside now, Angeline. It is too cold to remain out here.'

His mother stopped her twirling.

'Oh don't be such a spoil sport, Timmy!' she laughed, giving him a single weak punch to the lapel. 'Once upon a time, you would have revelled at this night! You would have swept me up and carried me to the bushes!'

Artemis watched her heel catch in the hem of her dress and reached out instinctively. She landed clumsily in the crook of his left arm.

'Woops!' she giggled, clinging to his shoulders. 'Sorry, Dear, I didn't quite see you there.'

Artemis struggled to place her steadily back on her feet.

'Mother, you're drunk,' he murmured, 'you need to go to bed.'

Where you will be safe.

Angeline was having none of this.

'I am not drunk!' she screeched, and Artemis could hold her no longer as she wrestled against his grip.

Artemis Senior stepped sharply forward, grabbing his wife's arm.

'That is quite enough.'

Artemis Junior felt a sudden anger at the contact.

Angeline Fowl frowned stupidly. 'Don't do that, Timmy,' she said. 'Your fingers are too tight.'

'You are to go to bed, immediately,' ordered her husband. 'Angeline, you are indecent.'

She snatched her arm away.

'Indecent am I?' she hissed, staggering backwards, her face suddenly wraith-like, 'because you would know all about that wouldn't you? Indecency?'

Artemis Senior towered over her.

'Go. To. Bed.'

There was a silent moment in which Angeline's chest heaved with every ragged breath and her fingers clutched to the silk of her gown. Then his mother grimaced, her face suddenly frightfully ugly and she stalked unwillingly away from her husband and watching son; the fight was over before it had barely even begun.

Artemis Senior turned back to face the car.

'Butler,' he barked. 'Take the Bentley round and park it in the West garage. I shall need it fully fuelled for tomorrow.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Once you're done, lock everything up.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Have a good evening.'

'Thank you, Sir.'

No, thought Artemis reflexly. No, don't.

But he did. The car pulled away with its usual smoothness and Artemis was left all alone with Father. He turned towards the entrance steps, suddenly wanting nothing more than to follow his mother when-

'Not so fast,' whispered a voice.

Artemis froze.

'You're not getting away that easily.'

The teenager closed his eyes; reining his expression in before turning back to face his father.

'I wasn't attempting to.'

Artemis Senior climbed the front steps until he stood level with his heir apparent.

'I want a word with you before we both retire. I feel as though we have something to discuss.'

The teenager forced his eyes to meet his Father's. He could feel his heart battering at his insides causing his head to begin to drift.

Calm down, boy, he told himself. Argon warned you that too much stress could trigger relapse of the complex.

'Get inside,' ordered the elder man sharply.

The boy instantly obeyed.

Artemis Senior closed the giant oak doors behind them with a soft echoing boom and stood silently with his back to the antechamber. His son remained a little way off, watching him in the settling quiet. The hall around them was dark, almost wholly so. If it wasn't for the stained glass windows striking moonlit-bruises across the stonework Artemis wouldn't have been able to see at all.

The Fowl Patriarch sighed softly.

'Father I-'

'You will speak when you are spoken to.'

The younger man's frown deepened and he clenched soft palms.

Artemis Senior turned from his vigil at the door to cross swiftly to the main staircase. His son followed without comment, allowing himself to be led step after step up the velveteen stairways and along each of the shadowed passages, until only a few minutes later they arrived at a doorway on the second floor. His Father opened the panelled door and nodded for Artemis to enter, which he did, after a few seconds hesitation, warily registering the mahogany behemoth that dominated the northwest corner of the room; a large, freestanding wardrobe that he himself had once occupied a long time ago.

The door clicked shut behind him and Artemis Senior stood over the exit. He looked silently at his son for a few moments, most of his face in shadow before gesturing towards a single crooked dining chair sat in the centre of the room. It was one of the many rejected pieces of furniture that had ended up in this office, forlorn and in need of polishing, unwanted by the house's mistress. It was also the chair on which Peter Francis had been so violently executed one decade ago.

'Sit,' ordered Artemis Senior.

Artemis looked to the lone chair and then back to his Father.

'I... I'd prefer to stand-'

'Sit.'

Artemis took a breath... and sat.

Satisfied, his father moved away from the door, walking to sit behind the claw-footed desk at the far side of the room. Once seated, his eyes flicked once again to his son.

'Who are your sources?' he asked.

'My sources?'

'Do not make me repeat myself, Artemis.'

'I have none. Not anymore.'

'You are lying.'

Artemis swallowed.

'I am not lying.'

'Then how have you come to know of 'The Neck'? Or are you now claiming clairvoyance in addition to genius?'

Artemis swore he could still see the man-shaped blood stain outlined in the rug.

'Well?'

'I met a few old friends at the party.'

'Which old friends?'

'I...Toulouse Brannagh and Volga Boujinsky.'

His Father snorted softly.

'Of course. Their parents both attended the meeting.'

Artemis' brow creased, and he glared angrily at his parent.

'What were you doing tonight?' he blurted. 'What were you doing attending a meeting with a recruiter? I thought you said that life was over for us. You promised us, you promised Mother!'

Artemis Senior looked up sharply. 'And I still hold to that promise.'

'Then why-'

'Wake up, boy!' he snapped, banging both palms atop the table. 'What else could I have done? I receive a letter, written by a seemingly dangerous new comer, inviting me to meet with him. If I attend, I have shown myself, I have shown that I respect him. I then present myself to him as a useless associate, as a business man well past his prime, he thus loses interest and I leave uninvolved and ultimately unscathed...

'But! If I fail to attend I have therefore actively refused him. He knows for a fact that I have received his invitation but that I have judged it unimportant; unworthy of my attentions. Now, no self respecting criminal is going to let that pass, especially one who is relatively new on the scene; someone who is eager to make the right impressions. So, he accordingly takes the decision to pay me a little personal visit. He decides that if I will not meet with him he shall have to come to me and teach me a very hard lesson as to why I should show his requests a little more respect in future...'

Artemis Senior sat back slowly into the worn padding of his chair.

'By refusing the simple request of a meeting I have brought one of the worlds supposed most dangerous new Under Lords into my own home; into the very house where my children sleep...'

He looked grimly at his son, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

'Now do you understand,' he implored softly, 'why my attendance was the only option available to me?'

Artemis was still unsettled. He stared hard at a knot in the wood of his Father's desk, his expression stormy. Something wasn't sitting right with him; within him. It was all too close to his former home.

'But you lied to Mother,' he murmured, speaking to his favoured spot. 'You told her you were at an environmental meeting.'

Artemis Senior snarled impatiently, flicking his head like a race horse trapped in the stalls. 'What else could I have said?' he spat. 'Your mother she... she expects a lot from me. She believes we are completely free of the old business. This is of course, absurd. Our family has spent the best part of eight centuries building the Fowl name to be one associated with felony and corruption. It is not something easily renounced in six years...'

There was a brief pause in which the dark truth of that statement sank into Artemis' young mind, that and the overwhelming urge to close his eyes and slump to the fetid floor; just give up there and then, and sleep quietly and neatly, and never have to do again.

But beneath him, the dining chair squeaked and he was a Fowl once again.

'But, Father,' he asked, swallowing himself back. 'What of this "Neck"? What does he want with us?'

Artemis Senior's face froze.

'That is nothing to do with you,' he whispered.

'But-'

'Artemis, no!' shouted the elder man, again suddenly full of anger. 'No! We are trying to live as a legitimate family now, and you, for your part, are to stay firmly out of the business. I asked this of you many years ago.'

The teenager was incredulous. He looked up at his father with his thin mouth agape.

'You cannot tell me that we will never be free of it and in the same breath condemn my involvement!'

'I am your Father, Artemis!' thundered the elder man, 'I am your Father and you will do as I say!'

The teenager stood from his chair.

'But don't you see that I could help you?' he demanded, anger and frustration screaming in his every syllable. 'I have skills, you cannot deny that. Not to utilise them now would be borderline stupidity.'

Artemis Senior roared to his feet.

'How dare you speak to me like that?'

Artemis blinked as his Father stood over him, his face a dark puce. For a moment the teenager's earlier dread sank back into his chest and he stood frozen, staring into the burning eyes that he had once both possessed. There was silence but for both their ragged breaths.

'Sit down,' spat Artemis Senior eventually, with a clear note of disgust. 'You are fifteen years old! A child. And while you live under my roof you would do better to remember your place. I will not be spoken to as if I am one of your imbecilic school friends.'

He sat slowly back into his chair, still shaking his head. Artemis watched him, pale cheeks flushing.

'I only wish to help you, Father,' he said, for once unable to meet his elder's gaze. He looked at his hands instead. 'I am completely serious in my offer of assistance...I... I want to... I want to believe that... that there exists some sort of... of...'

He set his jaw stiffly and looked up.

'Chance.'

Artemis Fowl the first looked back at his son. He looked at him as if he had never done so before; scrutinising every inch of shadow, skin and expression available for study. He looked at him as if looking through him.

'I should not have named you Artemis,' he said suddenly, in a voice that measured barely above a breath. 'For now you will never be able to escape the consequences of my own sins.'

There was another silence. Artemis stared at his Father, for once every inch the fifteen year old boy.

'You should get to bed,' continued Artemis Senior brusquely as if his last statement had never been uttered. 'It is getting late, and you have school in the morning.' He looked sternly at his eldest boy. 'Goodnight, Son.'

Artemis stood numbly.

'Goodnight... Father.'

But the teenager had just reached the door and placed his hand on the knob when Artemis Senior spoke again.

'Just one more thing, Artemis.'

The Irish boy turned his neck to face him, but could only see his father's mouth through the shadows. 'Yes?'

'If I ever discover that you have delved into any business again,' whispered the Fowl Patriarch. 'I will have you shipped out of this house and placed in a continental boarding school before your brain has even a chance to think the word "plan". Do you understand me?'

Artemis felt a cold shiver build in his flesh. 'Yes, Sir.'

'Good.'

The teenager rotated the brass door handle that had grown tepid beneath his palm and exited the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He proceeded to walk directly to his bedroom, his mouth set in a thin line, his eyes glazed and unfocused. His distraction was so complete that he failed to notice the hulking figure waiting outside his bedroom door.

'Artemis?'

The teenager started as the outline emerged from the shadows, his troubled eyes widening in shock.

'Artemis,' repeated the figure, their voice grating. 'Where have you been?'

Domovoi Butler stood from the wall, his usually stony face creased with concern. He was still wearing his tuxedo from earlier, the one that had had to be tailored specially in Tuscany in order to accommodate the Eurasian's massive girth. Artemis remembered the fitting. The tailor had had to tie two tapes together in order to measure his friend's bulging chest.

'I have been speaking with my Father,' said the teenager, after a few moments hesitant quiet. 'I am now very tired, so if you would excuse me...'

Artemis reached for his door handle, only to have the Eurasian's spade like hand appear on the wood just above.

'What happened tonight?' hissed Butler, leaning over the boy. 'I leave you alone at the entrance to that party and an hour later you're sprinting down the hallways as if you're in the middle of some desperate crisis!'

Artemis looked determinedly at the door handle.

'There was no crisis,' he said levelly. 'It was a misunderstanding on my part, that was all.'

'What misunderstanding?'

Artemis made an irritated noise, and pushed the door to his room open.

'It is late,' he said, with a tone of finality. 'Goodnight Butler.'

'Artemis-'

'Goodnight, Butler.'

He pushed the door shut and rested with his back against it. Above him, the cherubic fresco glowed dimly through the dark, and he could just make out their wingtips by the moonlight. For a few moments he remained there, his gaze fixed on the heavenly tableau.

'I am your Father, Artemis! I am your Father and you will do as I say!'

'Our family has spent the best part of eight centuries building the Fowl name to be one associated with felony and corruption. It is not something easily renounced in six years...'

'I should not have named you Artemis. For now you will never be able to escape the consequences of my own sins.'

He closed his eyes and reached a hand into his pocket, dialling a number and holding his phone up to his ear. After two rounds of the dial tone a familiar voice answered.

'Brannagh speaking.'

'Tuley, this is Artemis Fowl.'

'Art! Where did you get to? Volga and I were most concerned at your leaving...'

'I am home now, Tuley, and safe. I am, however, also in need of a favour.'

'A favour?' purred the young heir, and Artemis could almost hear his grin. 'What kind of a favour...?'

Heh, heh. Yep. Another cliffy for you. Next week, we're back to Holly, and we'll read just how much Artemis junior (as in the nine year old) knew about "*** **** ****" (can you guess what that is?).

Well...if you review.

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