Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex

is little more than an inverted tent. A well-fed teenager could pull it down.

He gathered the three posts in his arms, twirling them deftly, drawing the ring tighter and tighter.

A couple of the ninjas had enough presence of mind to skip out while they could, but most stood slack-jawed, and a couple who believed themselves to be dreaming sat down and closed their eyes.

Butler nodded at Samsonetta. “Out you go, miss.”

Samsonetta actually curtsied, which was totally out of character, and ducked under the rope, along with one ninja who was sharp enough to recognize a reprieve when he saw one. The rest of the crew was pressed closer together as Butler wound the rope tight. Every twist brought groans from the coils of old rope and from the people trapped inside. The crowd was beginning to realize what was happening, and they began to cheer with every twist. Several were gleefully calling for Butler to squeeze the air from the ninjas’ lungs, but the bodyguard was content merely to crush them together like passengers on the London Tube at rush hour. And once they were powerless to move, he shuffled them to the side of the ring and planted the pole back in its housing.

“I’m going now,” he said. “And I advise you all to stay put until I am out of the country, at the very least, because if you don’t, I will be very unhappy.”

Butler did not have the magical power of the mesmer, but his voice was extremely persuasive nevertheless.

“Okay, Bear, take it easy,” said the only ninja sporting a white head scarf, possibly the leader. “You’re straying way off script. Max is going to go nuts.”

“You let me worry about Max,” Butler advised. “You worry about me worrying about you.”

The ninja’s frown was obvious through the folds of his scarf. “What? Who should I worry about?”

Butler ground his teeth. Dialoguing was not as easy as the movies would have a person believe.

“Just don’t move until I’m gone. Got it?”

“Yep. You should have said that.”

“I know.”

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.”

Leave no evidence? What are they supposed to do with the evidence?

That question really didn’t bear thinking about.

Bear? Ha-ha-ha, thought Butler, and then: Jokes? I have time for jokes? Is it possible that I am frazzled? Pull it together, man. You’ve been through worse.

Although, looking at the dozens of stiff-limbed instapsychos lumbering down from the upper levels, Butler could not for the life of him remember when.

A pudgy forty-something man sporting an Undertaker T-shirt and a beer hat pointed at Butler from the aisle.

“Beaaaar!” he yowled. “Beaaaaar and princess!”

Butler borrowed a word from the fairy lexicon.

“D’Arvit,” he said.

CHAPTER 3 ORION RISING