Artemis Fowl

The Fowl Adventures is a series of ten fantasy novels written by Irish author Eoin Colfer revolving around various members of the Fowl family. The Artemis Fowl series, alternatively titled the First Cycle of The Fowl Adventures, follows elf LEP (Lower Elements Police) recon officer Holly Short as she faces the forces of criminal mastermind Artemis Fowl II. It introduces Artemis as a villain and the Peoples' enemy, but as the books progress, Artemis's character develops and changes. As an anti-villain, he assists the People and a reluctant Short in resolving conflicts with worldwide ramifications.

The Fowl Twins series, alternatively titled the Second Cycle of The Fowl Adventures, set five years later, follows Artemis' younger twin brothers as they live out their house arrest under the supervision of pixie-elf hybrid Lazuli Heitz and NANNI, an artificial intelligence based on Holly's and Artemis' brainwaves.

The series has received positive critical reception and generated huge sales. It has also originated graphic novel adaptations.

In the series, the fairies can use the "mesmer" power, enabling them to hypnotize anyone they wish.

Artemis Fowl (2001)
The first book in the Artemis Fowl series follows Holly Short after she is kidnapped by Artemis Fowl for a large ransom of gold with the help of his bodyguard Domovoi Butler (and his younger sister Juliet Butler) in order to restore the Fowl family fortune.

Excerpt
Juliet is tasked with watching over Holly. Unbeknownst to her, Holly has managed to gain back the use of her powers using an acorn she's found buried in her cell.

Artemis switched his attention to Holly. The elf was back to bed banging. Slamming the frame down over and over again, as though she could ...

It hit Artemis then, like a blast from a water cannon. If Holly had somehow smuggled an acorn in here, then one square centimetre of ground would be enough. If Juliet left that door open ...

'Juliet!' he shouted into the walkie-talkie. 'Juliet! Don't go in there!'

But it was useless. The girl's walkie-talkie lay buzzing on the kitchen floor, and Artemis could only watch helplessly as Butler's sister strode towards the cell door, muttering about carrots.

Pain forgotten, Captain Short dropped the bed, sinking quickly to her knees. There was indeed a small patch of earth poking through the cement. Holly fumbled the acorn from her boot, clasping it tightly in bloody fingers.

'I return you to the earth,' she whispered, worming her fist into the tiny space. 'And claim the gift that is my right.'

Nothing happened for a heartbeat. Perhaps two. Then Holly felt the magic rush up her arm like a jolt from an electrified troll fence. The shock sent her spinning across the room. For a moment the world swirled in a disconcerting kaleidoscope of colour, but when it settled Holly was no longer the defeated elf she had been.

'Right, Master Fowl.' She grinned, watching the blue sparks of fairy magic seal her wounds. 'Let's see what I have to do to get your permission to leave this place.'

'Drop everything,' sulked Juliet. 'Drop everything and check the prisoner.' She flicked blonde tresses expertly over a shoulder. 'He must think I'm his maid or something.'

She hammered on the cell door with the flat of her hand.

'I'm coming in now, fairy girl, so if you're doing anything embarrassing, please stop.'

Juliet punched the combination into the keypad. 'And no, I don't have your vegetables, or your washed fruit. But it's not my fault, Artemis in-sis-ted I come right down ...'

Juliet stopped talking, because there was nobody listening. She was preaching to an empty room. She waited for her brain to pass on an explanation. Nothing came. Eventually the notion to take another look filtered down.

She took a tentative step into the concrete cube. Nothing. Only a slight shimmering in the shadows. Like a mist. It was probably these stupid glasses. How were you supposed to see anything wearing mirrored sunglasses underground? And they were so nineties, they weren't even retro yet.

Juliet glanced guiltily at the monitor. Just a quick peek, what harm could it do? She whipped up the frames, sending her eyeballs spinning around the room.

In that instant a figure materialized before her. Just stepped out of the air. It was Holly. She was smiling.

'Oh, it's you. How did you -'

The fairy interrupted with a wave of her hand.

'Why don't you take off those glasses, Juliet? They really don't suit you.'

She's right, thought Juliet. And what a lovely voice. Like a choir all on its own. How could you argue with a voice like that?

'Sure. Caveman glasses off. Cool voice, by the way. Doh ray me and all that.'

Holly decided not to try deciphering Juliet's comments. It was hard enough when the girl was in full control of her brain.

'Now. A simple question.'

'No problem.' What a great idea.

'How many people in the house?'

Juliet thought. One and one and one.

And another one? No, Mrs Fowl wasn't there.

'Three,' she said finally. 'Me and Butler and, of course, Artemis. Mrs Fowl was here, but she went bye-bye, then she went bye-bye.'

Juliet giggled. She'd made a joke. A good one too.

Holly drew a breath to ask for clarification, then thought better of it. A mistake as it turned out.

'Has anyone else been here. Anyone like me?'

Juliet chewed her lip. 'There was one little man. In a uniform like yours. Not cute though. Not one bit. Just shouted and smoked a smelly cigar. Terrible complexion. Red as a tomato.'

Holly almost smiled. Root had come himself. No doubt the negotiations had been disastrous.

'No one else?'

'Not that I know of. If you see that man again, tell him to lay off the red meat. He's just a coronary waiting to happen.'

Holly swallowed a grin. Juliet was the only human she knew who was probably more lucid under the mesmer.

'OK. I'll tell him. Now, Juliet, I want you to stay in my room, and no matter what you hear, don't come out.'

Juliet frowned. 'This room? It's so boring. No TV or anything. Can't I go up to the lounge?'

'No. You have to stay here. Anyway, they've just installed a wall television. Cinema size. Wrestling, twenty-four hours a day.'

Juliet almost fainted with pleasure. She ran into the cell, gasping as her imagination supplied the pictures.

Holly shook her head. Well, she thought, at least one of us is happy.

Artemis Fowl and the Arctic Incident (2002)
The second book of the series. It follows the rescue of Artemis's father Artemis Fowl I from the Russian Mafia, alongside the battle against the B'wa Kell goblin gang who have allied themselves with the maniacal genius pixie Opal Koboi and officer Briar Cudgeon helping her out. The LEP originally suspects Artemis of orchestrating the goblin rebellion, but he is cleared of all suspicion after being inspected with a Retimager. Holly Short, an LEP captain; Julius Root, the LEP commander; and Foaly, a centaur and the main technology supervisor for the LEP, make an agreement with Artemis to work together to stop the goblin rebellion, with the help of Mulch Diggums half-way through.

Excerpt
Luc Carrère, a small-time French private investigator, is mesmerized by Opal Koboi and Cudgeon.

Luc Carrère was responsible for selling batteries to the B'wa Kell. Not that you'd know it to look at him. In fact, he didn't even know it himself. Luc was a small-time French private eye, who was well known for his inefficiency. In PI circles, it was said that Luc couldn't trace a golf ball in a barrel of mozzarella.

Cudgeon decided to use Luc for three reasons. One, Foaly's files showed that Carrère had a reputation as a wheeler-dealer. In spite of his ineptness as an investigator, Luc had a knack for laying his hand on whatever it was the client wanted to buy. Two, the man was greedy and had never been able to resist the lure of easy money. And three, Luc was stupid. And as every little fairy knows, weak minds are easier to mesmerize.

The fact that he had located Carrère in Foaly's database was nearly enough to make Cudgeon smile. Of course, Briar would have preferred not to have any human link in the chain. But a chain comprised completely of goblin links is one dumb chain.

Establishing contact with any Mud Man was not something Cudgeon took lightly. Deranged as he was, Briar was well aware of what would happen if the humans got wind of a new market below ground. They would swarm to the Earth's core like an army of red-backed flesh-eating ants.

Cudgeon was not ready to meet the humans head on. Not yet. Not until he had the might of the LEP behind him.

So instead, Cudgeon sent Luc Carrère a little package. First class, shielded goblin mail. ..

Luc Carrère had shuffled into his office apartment' one July evening to find a small parcel lying on his desk. The package was nothing more than a FedEx delivery. Or something that looked very much like a FedEx delivery.

Luc slit the tape. Inside the box, cushioned on a nest of hundred-euro bills, was a small flat device of some kind. Like a portable CD player, but made from a strange black metal that seemed to absorb light. Luc would have shouted to reception and instructed his secretary to hold all calls. If he had had a reception. If he had had a secretary. Instead the PI began stuffing cash down his grease-stained shirt as though the notes would disappear.

Suddenly, the device popped open, clam-like, revealing a micro-screen and speakers. A shadowy face appeared on the display. Though Luc could see nothing but a pair of red-rimmed eyes, that was enough to set goose bumps popping across his back.

Funny though, because when the face began to speak, Luc's worries slid away like an old snakeskin. How could he have been worried? This person was obviously a friend. What a lovely voice. Like a choir of angels, all on its own.

"''Luc Carrère?'"

Luc nearly cried. Poetry.

"Oui. It's me."

"Bonsoir. Do you see the money, Luc? It's all yours." Sixty miles below ground, Cudgeon almost smiled. This was easier than expected. He had been worried that the dribble of power left in his brain wouldn't be sufficient to mesmerize the human. But this particular Mud Man seemed to have the will-power of a hungry hog faced with a trough of turnips.

Luc held two wads of cash in his fists. "This money. It's mine? What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. The money is yours. Do whatever you want."

Now Luc Carrère knew that there was no such thing as free cash, but that voice. . . That voice was truth in a micro-speaker.

"But there's more. A lot more."

Luc stopped what he was doing, which was kissing a hundred-euro bill. "More? How much more?"

The eyes seemed to glow crimson. "As much as you want, Luc. But to get it, I need you to do me a favour."

Luc was hooked. "Sure. What kind of favour?"

The voice emanating from the speaker was as clear as spring water. "It's simple, not even illegal. I need batteries, Luc. Thousands of batteries. Maybe millions. Do you think you can get them for me?"

Luc thought about it for about two seconds. The banknotes were tickling his chin. As a matter of fact, he had a contact on the river who regularly shipped boatloads of hardware to the Middle East, including batteries. Luc was confident that some of those shipments could be diverted.

"Batteries. Oui, certainment, I could do that."

One morning there was another parcel on his new marble-topped desk. Bigger this time. Bulkier.

But Luc wasn't worried. It was probably more money.

Luc popped the top to reveal an aluminium case and a second communicator. The eyes were waiting for him.

"Bonjour, Luc. Ça va?"

"Bien," replied Luc, mesmerized from the first syllable.

"I have a special assignment for you today. Do this right and you will never have to worry about money again. Your tool is in the case."

"What is it?" asked the PI nervously. The instrument looked like a weapon and, even though Luc was mesmerized, Cudgeon did not have enough magic to completely suppress the Parisian's nature. The PI may have been devious, but he was no killer.

"It's a special camera, Luc, that's all. If you pull that thing that looks like a trigger, it takes a picture," said Cudgeon.

"Oh," said Luc Carrère blearily.

"Some friends of mine are coming to visit you. And I want you to take their picture. It's just a game we play."

"How will I know your friends?" asked Luc. "A lot of people visit me."

"They will ask about the batteries. If they ask about the batteries, then you take their picture."

"Sure. Great." And it was great. Because the voice would never make him do anything wrong. The voice was his friend.

Artemis Fowl and the Opal Deception (2005)
The fourth book covers power-hungry and insane pixie Opal Koboi's second attempt at world domination, after her first fruitless attempt in the second novel.

Excerpt
Koboi mesmerizes Giovanni Zito, a fictional environmentalist, into believing that she is his daughter, Belinda. She then convinces Giovanni to send a probe into the ground, which could lead to the uncovering of the fairy world, thrusting the fairy city of Haven into human clutches.

She closed the screen on her video phone and dialed a connection to Sicily.

The person at the other end picked up in the middle of the first ring. “Belinda, my dear. Is it you?”

The man who had answered was in his late forties, with Latin good looks and gray-streaked black hair framing his tanned face. He wore a white lab coat over an open-necked striped Versace shirt.

'Yes, Papa. It's me. Don't worry, I am safe.“

Opal's voice was layered with the hypnotic mesmer.

The poor human was utterly in her power, as he had been for over a month.

'When are you coming home, my dear? I miss you.“

'Today, Papa, in a few hours. How is everything there?“ The man smiled dreamily.

'Molto bene. Wonderful. The weather is fine. We can take a drive to the mountains. Perhaps I can teach you to ski.“

Opal frowned impatiently. “Listen to me, idiota... Papa. How is everything with the probe? Are we on schedule?“ For a moment, a flash of annoyance wrinkled the Italian's brow, then he was bewitched again.

'Yes, my dear. Everything is on schedule. The explosive pods are being buried to the probe's systems' check was a resounding success.“

Opal clapped her hands, the picture of a delighted daughter. “Excellent, Papa. You are so good to your little Belinda. I will be with you soon.”

'Hurry home, my dear,“ said the man, utterly lost without the creature he believed to be his daughter.

Opal ended the call. “Fool,” she said contemptuously.

Opal picked Giovanni Zito from her list of prospective puppets because of two things: Zito had a large fortune, and land directly above a huge high-grade hematite orebody.

Zito smiled. Heady days. He was about to close his eyes for a quick nap before dinner, when something moved in the shadows in the corner of the room. Something small, barely the height of the table.

Zito sat straight up in his chair. “What's that? Is somebody there?”

A lamp flicked on to reveal a small girl perched on a log stool. She held the lamp cord in her hand and seemed not in the least afraid or upset in any way. In fact the girl was calm and composed, regarding Zito as if he were the intruder.

Giovanni stood. “Who are you, little one? Why are you here?”

The girl fixed him with the most incredible eyes. Deep brown eyes. Deep as a vat of chocolate.

'I am here for you, Giovanni,“ she said in a voice as beautiful as her eyes. In fact, everything about the girl was beautiful. Her porcelain features. And those eyes. They would not let him go.

Zito fought her spell. “For me? What do you mean? Is your mother nearby?”

The girl smiled. “Not nearby, no. You are my family now.”

Giovanni tried to make sense of this simple sentence, but he could not. Was it really important? Those eyes, and that voice. So melodic. Layers of crystal tinkling.

Humans react differently to the fairy mesmer. Most fall immediately under its hypnotic spell, but there are those with strong minds who need to be pushed a little. And the more they are pushed, the greater the risk of brain damage.

'I am your family now?“ said Zito slowly, as though he were searching each word for meaning.

'Yes, human,“ snapped Opal impatiently, pushing harder. ”My family. I am your daughter, Belinda. You adopted me last month, secretly. The papers are in your bureau.“

Giovanni's eyes lost their focus. 'Adopted? Bureau?“

Opal drummed her tiny fingers on the base of the lamp. She had forgotten how dull some humans could be, especially under the mesmer. And this one was supposed to be a genius.

'Yes. Adopted. Bureau. You love me more than life, remember? You would do absolutely anything for your darling Belinda.“

A tear pooled on Zito's eyelid. 'Belinda. My little girl. I'd do anything for you, dear, anything.“

'Yes, yes, yes,“ said Opal impatiently. 'Of course. I said that. Just because you're mesmerized doesn't mean you have to repeat everything I say. That is so tiresome.“

Zito noticed two small creatures in the corner. Creatures with pointed ears. This fact penetrated the mesmer's fugue.

'I see. Over there. Are they human?“

Opal glowered at the Brill brothers. They were supposed to stay out of sight. Mesmerizing a strong mind such as Zito's was a delicate enough operation without distractions.

She added another layer to her voice. “You cannot see those figures. You will never see them again.”

Zito was relieved. “Of course. Good. Nothing at all. Mind playing tricks.”

Opal scowled. What was it about humans and grammar? At the first sign of stress, it went out the window. Mind playing tricks. Really.

'Now, Giovanni, Daddy. I think we need to talk about your next project.“

'The water-powered car?“

'No, idiot. Not the water-powered car. The core probe. I know you have designed one. Quite a good design for a human, though I will be making changes.“

'The core probe. Impossible. Can't get through crust. Don't have enough iron.“

'We can't get through the crust. We don't have enough iron. Speak properly, for heaven's sake. It's trying enough speaking Mud Man without listening to your gibberish. Honestly, you human geniuses are not all you're cracked up to be.“

Zito's beleaguered brain made the effort. “I am sorry, dearest Belinda. I simply mean that the core probe project is long term. It will have to wait until we can find a practical way to gather the iron, and cut through the earth's crust.”

Opal looked at the dazed Sicilian. 'Poor dear stupid Daddy. You developed a super laser to cut through the crust. Don't you remember?“

A dewdrop of sweat rolled down Zito's cheek. “A super laser? Now that you mention it…”

'And can you guess what you'll find when you do cut through?“

Zito could guess. Part of his intellect was still his own. “A hematite orebody? It would have to be massive. Of very high grade.”

Opal led him to the window. In the distance, the wind farm's blades flashed in the starlight.

'And where do you think we should dig?“

'I think we should dig under the wind farm,“ said Zito, resting his forehead against the cool glass.

'Very good, Daddy. If you dig there I will be ever so happy.“

Zito patted the pixie's hair. “Ever so happy,” he said sleepily. “Belinda, my little girl. Papers are in bureau.”

'The papers are in the bureau,“ corrected Opal. ”If you persist with this baby talk I will have to punish you.“

She wasn't joking.

Artemis Fowl and the Lost Colony (2006)
The fifth book involves bringing the demon island Hybras back from "Limbo" with the help of N°1, a powerful demon warlock. Artemis, Butler, Holly, Mulch, and Foaly reunite after Artemis encounters a demon from the island Hybras. Foaly tells them after the Battle of Taillte, the war for land against fairy and human, the demon fairy family sent themselves out of time on the island Hybras, and that on their island their time can be anything on ours. The time spell is crumbling, and demons are appearing on earth without warning. If the humans discover the demons, they will inevitably uncover the rest of the fairies. Artemis and his friends go after the demon warlock N°1, who is kidnapped by child prodigy Minerva Paradizo.

Excerpt
Leon Abbott, who has gained access to the mesmer, uses it on a young and rebellious demon in order to crown himself King.

Abbot had something big for planned for today. A big departure for the pride, the dawn of a new era. The Leon Abbot era.

He looked down the table at his fellow demons, sucking the bones from a bucket of recently live rabbits that he had laid on for the meeting. He despised the other Council members. Every one. They were weak stupid creatures, ruled by their baser appetites. What they needed was leadership. No arguments, no debates, just his word was law, and that was that.

Of course, under normal circumstances, the other demons might not share his vision of the future. In fact, if he suggested it, then they would most likely do to him what they were currently doing to the rabbits. But these were not normal circumstances. He had certain advantages when it came to negotiating with the Council.

At the far end of the table, Hadley Shrivelington Basset, a recent addition to the Council, stood and growled loudly. The signal that he wished to speak. In truth, Basset worried Abbot slightly. He was proving a little resistant to Abbot's regular powers of persuasion, and some of the others were beginning to listen to him. Basset would have to be handled soon.

Basset growled again, cupping both hands round his mouth to ensure that the sound travelled to the head of the table. 'I would speak, Leon Abbot. I would have you listen.'

Abbot sighed wearily, waving at the demon to go ahead. The young ones certainly loved their formality.

'Things are happening that worry me, Abbot. Things are not as they should be with the pride.' There were murmurs of assent from round the table. Not to worry. The others would soon change their tune. 'We are known by human names. We venerate a human book. I find this sickening. Are we to become human altogether?'

'I have explained this, Basset. Perhaps a million times. Are you so dull-witted that my words do not penetrate your skull?'

Basset growled low in his throat. These were fighting words. And pride leader or not, Abbot would soon find those words rammed down his throat.

'Let me try one more time,' continued Abbot, plonking his boots on the table, a further insult to Basset. 'We learn the human ways so we can better understand them, and so more easily defeat them. We read the book, we practice with the crossbow, we bear the names.'

Basset would not be cowed. 'I have heard these words a million times, and each time they seem ridiculous to me. We do not give each other rabbit names when we hunt rabbit. We do not live in foxholes to hunt the fox. We can learn from the book and the bow, but we are demon, not human. My family name was Gristle. Now that's a real demon name! Not this stupid Hadley Shrivelington Basset.'

It was a good argument, and well presented. Maybe in different circumstances Abbot would have applauded and recruited the young demon as a lieutenant, but lieutenants grew up to be challengers and that was one thing Abbot did not want.

Abbot stood, walking slowly down the length of the table, gazing into the eyes of each Council member in turn. At first their eyes blazed with defiance, but as Abbot began to speak, this fire faded to be replaced by a dull sheen of obedience.

'You are right, of course,' said Abbot, running a talon along one curved horn. An arc of sparks followed the path of his nail. 'Everything you say is exactly right. The names, that ridiculous book, the crossbow. Learning the language of English. It's all a joke.'

Basset's lips curled back over pointed white teeth, and his tawny eyes narrowed. 'You admit this, Abbot? You hear him admit it?'

Before, the others had grunted their approval of the young buck's challenge, but now it was as if the fight had gone out of them. All they could do was stare at the table, as if the answers to life's questions were etched into the wood grain.

'The truth is, Basset,' continued Abbot, drawing ever nearer. 'That we're never going back home. This is our home now.'

'But you said. . .'

'I know. I said that the spell would end, and we would be sucked back to where we came from. And who knows, it may even be true. But I have no idea what will actually happen. All I know is that for as long as we are here, I intend to be in charge.'

Basset was stunned. 'There will be no great battle? But we've been training for so long.'

'Distraction,' said Abbot, waving his fingers like a magician. 'Smoke and spells. It gave the troops something to concentrate on.'

'To what on?' asked Basset, puzzled.

'Concentrate, you moron. Think about. As long as there's a war to be planned, demons are happy. I provided the war, and I showed them how to win. So, naturally, I am a saviour.'

'You gave us the crossbow.'

Abbot had to stop and laugh. This Basset really was a prize fool. He could almost pass for a gnome.

'The crossbow,' he panted at last, when his mirth had petered away. 'The crossbow! The Mud Men have weapons that shoot death. They have iron birds that fly, dropping exploding eggs. And there are millions of them. Millions! All they would have to do is drop one egg on our little island and we would disappear. And this time, there would be no coming back.'

Basset did not know whether to attack or flee. All these revelations were hurting his brain, and all the other Council members could do was sit there drooling. It was almost as if they were under a spell. ..

'Come on,' said Abbot mockingly. 'You're getting there. Wring out that sponge of a brain.'

'You have bewitched the Council.'

'Full marks!' crowed Abbot. 'Give that demon a raw rabbit!'

'B-but that can't be,' stammered Basset. 'Demons are not magical creatures, except the warlocks. And warlocks do not warp.'

Abbot spread his arms wide. 'And I am so obviously a magnificently warped creature. Does your brain hurt? Is this all too much for you, Basset?'

Basset pulled a long sword from its scabbard. 'My name is Gristle!' he roared, lunging at the pride leader.

Abbot batted the blade aside with his forearm, then pounced on his opponent. Abbot may have been a liar and a manipulator, but he was also a fearsome warrior. Basset may as well have been a dove attacking an eagle.

Abbot drove the smaller demon to the stone floor, then squatted on his chest, ignoring the blows Basset drove into his armoured plates. 'Is that the best you can do, little one? I have had better tumbles with my dog.'

He grabbed Basset's head between his hands and squeezed until the younger demon's eyes bulged.

'Now I could kill you,' said Abbot, and the thought gave him obvious pleasure. 'But you are a popular buck among the imps, and they would pester me with questions. So I will let you live. After a fashion. Your free will shall belong to me.'

Basset shouldn't have been able to speak, but he managed to moan one word.

'Never.'

Abbot squeezed harder.

'Never? Never, you say? But don't you know that never comes quickly here in Hybras?'

Then Abbot did what no warped demon should be able to do: he summoned magic from inside himself and let it shine through his eyes.

'You are mine,' he said to Basset, and his voice was layered with magic, and irresistible.

The others were so conditioned that they succumbed to just a tinge of the mesmer in his voice, but for Basset's fresh young mind, Abbot was calling forth every spark of magic in his system. Magic that he had stolen. Magic that, by fairy law, was never to be used to mesmerize another fairy.

Basset's face was turned red, and his forehead plate cracked.

'You are mine!' repeated Abbot, staring straight into Basset's captive eyes. 'You will never question me again.'

To Basset's credit, he fought the enchantment for several seconds, until the magic's power actually burst a blood vessel in his eye. Then, as the blood spread across the orange sclera of his eye, Basset's resolve faded, to be replaced by docile dullness.

'I am yours,' he intoned. 'I will never question you again.'

Abbot closed his eyes for a moment, drawing the magic back into himself. When he opened them again, he was all smiles.

'That's good. I am so glad to hear that, Basset. I mean, your option was quick and painful death, so you're better off as a mindless lapdog anyway.'

He climbed to his feet and graciously helped Basset to his. 'You've had a fall,' he explained, in a doctor–patient voice. 'And I'm helping you to your feet.'

Basset blinked dreamily. 'I will never question you again.'

'Oh, never mind all that now. Just sit down and do whatever I say.'

'I am yours,' said Basset.

Abbot slapped his cheek gently. 'And the others said we wouldn't get along.'

Abbot returned to his own chair at the head of the lodge. The chair was high-backed and made from various animal parts. He settled into it, paddling the armrests with his palms.

'I love this chair,' he said. 'Actually it's more of a throne than a chair, which brings me to our main business here today.' Abbot reached under a leather flap in the chair and pulled out a roughly fashioned bronze crown.

'I think it's about time the Council declared me king for life,' he said, fixing the crown on his head.

This new king-for-life idea would be a tough sell. A demon pride was always ruled over by the fittest, and it was a very temporary position. Abbot had only survived as long as he had by mesmerizing anyone who dared challenge him.

Most of the Cquncil had been under Abbot's spell for so long that they accepted the suggestion as if it were a royal decree, but some of the younger ones shuddered with violent spasms as their true beliefs wrestled with this new repugnant idea.

Their struggles didn't last long. Abbot's suggestion spread like a virus through their conscious and subconscious, subduing revolution wherever it was found.

Abbot adjusted his crown slightly. 'Enough debate. All in favour, say graaargh.'

'GRAAARGH!' howled the demons, battering the table with gauntlets and swords.

'All hail King Leon,' prompted Abbot.

'ALL HAIL KING LEON!' mimicked the Council, like trained parrots.

Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex (2010)
In the seventh book, Artemis contracts Atlantis Complex, a fairy condition resembling a combination of obsessive-compulsive disorder, extreme paranoia, and multiple personality disorder. This results in the debut of Orion Fowl, his alter ego. The story follows Turnball Root, the criminal brother of Julius Root, as he breaks out of jail and sends probes to destroy his enemies, including Artemis, his fairy friends, and Butler, whom Artemis sent away due to his Atlantis Complex induced paranoia.

Excerpt
Juliet has become a luchadora wrestler in Cancún, but when Butler is lured there, a screen mesmerizes her and the entire room of people.

From a bodyguard’s perspective, there were so many things wrong with this situation that Butler almost despaired. He turned to his sister.

“Enough of this. I have to go somewhere and think. Somewhere with no Lycra.”

“Okay, Dom. Follow me.”

Butler stepped down from the platform. “If you could stop bandying my name about. It’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Not from me. I’m your sister.”

“That may be. But there are thousands of people here, and half as many cameras.”

“It’s not as if I said the whole name. It’s not as if I said Dom-o—”

“Don’t!” warned Butler. “I mean it.”

The stage door was a mere twenty yards away, and the familiar rhythms of family bickering warmed Butler’s heart.

I think we’re going to make it, he thought in a rare moment of optimism.

Which was when the picture on the big screen was replaced by a giant pair of glowing red eyes. And although red eyes are usually associated with nasty things like vampires, chlorine burn, and conjunctivitis, these particular red eyes seemed friendly and infinitely trustworthy. In fact, anyone who gazed into the fluid swirling depths of these eyes felt that all their problems were about to be solved, if they just did what the owner of those eyes told them to do.

Butler inadvertently caught sight of the eyes in his peripheral vision but quickly tucked his head low.

Fairy magic, he realized. This entire crowd is about to be mesmerized.

“Look into my eyes,” said a voice from every speaker in the room. The voice even managed to invade the cameras and phones of the audience.

“Wow,” said Juliet in a monotone that did not suit the word. “I really need to look into those eyes.”

Juliet might have been reluctant to do what the silky voice commanded if she’d had any memory of her dealings with the Fairy People. Unfortunately, those memories had been wiped from her mind.

“Block the exits,” urged the voice. “Block all the exits. Use your bodies.”

Juliet whipped off her mask, which was impeding her view of the screen. “Brother, we need to block the exits with our bodies.”

Butler wondered how things could get much worse as hundreds of enraptured wrestling fans surged down the aisles to physically block the entrances and exits.

''Block the exits with your bodies? This fairy is pretty specific.''

Butler had no doubt that another command was forthcoming, and he doubted it would be Now join hands and sing sea shanties. No, he was certain that nothing benign would issue from that screen.

“Now kill the bear and the princess,” said the layered voice, a few of the layers taking a moment to catch up, lending a sibilant sssss to princess.

''Kill the bear and the princess. Charming.''

Butler noticed a glint of dark intent in his sister’s eyes as she realized that he was the bear. What would she do, he wondered, when she tumbled to the fact that she was the princess?

It doesn’t matter, he realized. We could both be dead long before that happens.

“Kill the bear and the princess,” droned Juliet in perfect unison with the mesmerized crowd.

“And take your time about it,” continued the magical voice, now infused with a merry note. “Drag it out a little. As you humans say: no pain no gain.”

A comedian, thought Butler. It’s not Opal Koboi, then.

“Gotta kill you, brother,” said Juliet. “I’m sorry. Truly.”

Not likely, thought Butler. On a good day, if he was drugged and blindfolded, maybe Juliet could have inflicted a little damage, but in his experience the mesmer made people slow and stupid. A large part of their brains were switched off, and the parts left awake were not going to be winning any Nobel prizes.

Juliet tried a spinning kick but ended up twirling off balance and into Butler’s arms. Annoyingly, her jade ring spun around and clattered him on the ear. Even mesmerized, my sister is irritating.

Butler hefted Juliet easily, then tensed his muscles for flight.

“Kill you,” muttered his sister. “Sorry. Gotta.” Then: “Fairies? You kidding me?”

Was she remembering the Fowl Manor siege? Butler wondered. Had the mesmer accidentally triggered recall?

He could investigate later, if there were a later for them. Butler had considerable faith in his own ability, but he doubted that he could take on a theater full of zombies, even if they weren’t fleet of foot.

“Go to work, my human lackeys,” said the voice that went along with the red eyes. “Dig deep into the darkest recesses of your brains, such as they are. Leave no evidence for the authorities.”

Then, later on in the book, Root enslaves Holly using an illegal black magic rune and attempts to do the same to Artemis.

Turnball turned to Unix. “Tell the bot to spit out Captain Short.”

Unix consulted a computer rendering of the bot and its contents on a wall screen. With a flick of his finger, he dragged Holly from the gel. Almost instantaneously, the bot did the same. Holly felt as though she were being vomited from the belly of a beast onto the cold metal floor. She lay there gasping as her lungs accustomed themselves to breathing pure air once more. She opened her eyes to see a grinning Turnball looming over her.

“I’m remembering more and more about you as time goes by,” he said, and kicked her hard in the ribs with one black boot. “And I remember that you put me in prison. But never mind, eh. Now you can make up for it by doing me a good turn.”

Holly spat a blob of gel onto the deck. “Not likely, Turnball.”

Turnball kicked her again. “You will address me by my rank.”

Holly spoke through gritted teeth. “I doubt it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Turnball, and put his boot on her throat. From his pocket he pulled what looked like a penlight.

“This looks like a penlight, doesn’t it?”

Holly could not speak, but she was guessing the slim cylinder was something more sinister than a light.

“Yet it is quite a bit more than that. You may have guessed that black-magic runes are something of a hobby of mine. Illegal, yes, but almost everything I do is illegal, so why start worrying now? What this little laser does is burn the rune directly into the skin of the person I wish to enslave. No magic necessary. So long as I have the corresponding rune on my person, then you are in my thrall forever.”

Turnball showed his thumb to Holly, the one with Vishby’s rune still inscribed on the pad, the magic of which could be transferred to her now that Vishby was dead. “And guess what, my dear? A free slot just opened up in my organization.”

Root activated the laser and hummed for a moment until the tip turned red, then he jammed it into Holly’s neck, branding her with his binding rune. Holly bucked and screamed in a black-magic fit. “Not so gentle as the touch,” noted Turnball, stepping out of puke range just in case. The fit lasted less than a minute, leaving Holly rigid on the floor, breathing abnormally fast, eyelids fluttering. Turnball licked the blood rune on his own thumb. “Now, Miss Short, what say we go and kidnap a warlock?” Holly stood, arms stiff by her side, eyes unfocused.

“Yes, Captain,” she said.

Turnball clapped her on the back. “That’s more like it, Short. Isn’t it liberating not to have a choice? You just do what I say, and nothing is your fault.”

“Yes, Captain. Most liberating.”

Turnball handed her a Neutrino. “Feel free to kill anyone who gets in your way.”

Holly checked the battery level expertly. “Anyone who gets in my way, I kill them.”

“I like these lasers,” said Turnball, twiddling the rune pen.

Later, he sends the enthralled Holly to capture No. 1.

They were two-thirds of the way across when the hatch on the Nostremius slid open, and Holly stepped through, followed by No1.

There was no emotion in Holly’s eyes, but she calmly assessed the situation and drew the Neutrino from her holster, taking a quick bead on Butler’s forehead.

From the look on her face, she could have been about to shoot a dart at a fairground target.

“No, Captain Short,” said Turnball’s voice from behind Butler. “No guns in here.”

Turnball stood at the entrance to the ambulance with Unix, as ever, at one shoulder, and Ark Sool hovering at the other.

Juliet was on rear-guard duty. “It’s the jolly pirate,” she called to her brother. “And his merry idiots. I think that without guns we’re in pretty good shape. Should I go over there and beat some respect for life into them?”

Butler held up two fingers. Wait.

This was a nightmare scenario for any bodyguard: stuck in the middle of a transparent tube, several miles underwater, with a murdering band of fugitives at one end and an enthralled but still highly skilled police officer at the other. Poor No1 had no idea what kind of drama he had stepped into.

“Holly, what’s going on? Are we in the middle of one of your big adventures? Should I zap someone?”

Holly stood impassively waiting for instructions, but Butler heard what No1 had said. “No magic, No1. One spark could blow up this entire platform.”

No1 sighed. “Can’t you people ever just go on a picnic or something? Do there always have to be explosions?”

Artemis moaned again, then slid from behind Mulch off Foaly’s back onto the walkway.

Standing in the doorway of the stolen shuttle ambulance, gazing down the umbilical toward Butler, Turnball realized he had a few marked cards in the deck.

“Ah,” he said. “My little genius awakes. This should make our game interesting.”

Butler turned sideways to make himself a smaller target. There were to be no guns in this showdown, but there could be blades. “Go back inside,” he called to No1. “Go in and shut the hatch.”

The demon warlock tapped Holly’s shoulder. “Should I go in, Holly? Would that be the best thing to do?”

Holly did not answer, but with that touch, No1 felt the rune spell that squatted like a parasite on her mind. It seemed purple to him, and malignant, and somehow aware. In his imagination, the reptilian rune crouching on Holly’s brain snarled at him and nipped with venomous teeth.

“Oh,” said No1, withdrawing his finger sharply.

I could undo the spell, he thought. But it would be delicate work to avoid brain damage, and there would definitely be sparks.

He took a slow step backward, but Holly quickly walked around him and smashed the heel of her hand into the door mechanism, sealing it for as long as it took for maintenance to get a fairy down there. Which would be way too long.

“No running away, young Master Demon,” called Turnball. “I have need of your magic.”

My magic, thought No1. There must be something I can do. The mesmer doesn’t require any sparks.

“Listen to me, Holly,” said the demon warlock, his voice multilayered with magic. “Look into my eyes.”

Which was as far as he got before Holly brought the edge of her hand down in a chopping motion that hit No1 accurately in the gap between the armor plates on his chest and neck. Right in the windpipe. The demon collapsed to the ground, gasping. It would be minutes before he could do as much as squeak. Turnball laughed cruelly. “Rune trumps mesmer, would say.”

Artemis Fowl and the Last Guardian (2012)
In the eighth and final book of the original series, Opal Koboi opens the Berserker's Gate, a portal located on the Fowl Estate, in which dwell the spirits of fairy soldiers, the last victims of the Battle of Taillte, the final blow in the war that sent the Fairy People underground.

Excerpt
Opal opens the first gate, which releases the spirits of the warriors into the living world. The warriors begin to possess other people and animals around them, including corpses, animals, Juliet Butler, and Artemis's toddler brothers, Myles and Beckett.

And so were Oro and his band of Berserkers placed under geasa, or fairy bond, to follow Opal wherever she would command. They tumbled into the sky, searching for a body to inhabit inside the magic circle.

There were humans, three of the hated creatures. Two males and a female. He would leave the female for Bellico, one of only two she-fairies in their ranks. So that left the boys.

Oro’s soul circled above the males. Two curious little man-eens, who were not displaying the awe that this situation would seem to call for. Their world had dissolved to a maelstrom of magic, for Danu’s sake. Should they not be quaking in their boots, bubbling from the nose, and begging for a mercy that would not be forthcoming?

But no, their reactions were surprising. The dark-haired boy had moved swiftly to the fallen girl and was expertly checking her pulse. The second, a blond one, had uprooted a clump of reeds with surprising strength for one his size, and he was even now accosting the doltish gnome, forcing him backward toward a ditch.

That one interests me, thought Oro. He is young and small, but his body fizzes with power. I will have him.

And it was as simple as that. Oro thought it, and so it became deed. One second he was hovering above Beckett Fowl, and the next he had become him and was beating the gnome with a fistful of whippety reeds.

Oro laughed aloud at the senses assaulting his nerve endings. He felt the sweat in the wrinkles of his fingers, the glistening smoothness of the reeds. He smelled the boy, the youth and energy of him, like hay and summer. He felt a youthful heart beat like a drum in his chest.

“Ha!” he said exultantly, and he continued to thrash the gnome for the sheer fun of it, thinking: The sun is warm, praise be Belenos. I live once more, but I will die gladly this day to see humans in the ground beside me.

For it is ever true that resurrected fairy warriors are supernoble in their thought patterns and don’t have much in the way of a sense of humor.

“Enough of this playfulness,” he said in Gnommish, and his human tongue mangled the words so that he sounded like an animal grunting speech. “We must assemble.”

Oro looked to the skies, where his plasmic warriors sloshed about him like a host of translucent deep-sea creatures. “This is what we have waited for,” he called. “Find a body inside the circle.”

And they dispersed in a flash of ozone, scouring the Fowl Estate for vessels that would become their hosts.

The first bodies to be taken were the humans who were nearby.