Has he done it? Is this Artemis Fowl’s greatest moment?
The petals swirled with a noise like a chorus of sighs and then suddenly dropped like stones. The clone had not moved.
Holly moved forward slowly, as though learning to use her legs, then dropped to her knees, clasping the clone’s hand.
“Artemis,” she said, the word like a prayer. “Artemis, please.”
Still nothing. Not even breath now.
Butler had no time for his usual impeccable manners and moved Holly aside. “Sorry, Captain. This is my area of expertise.”
He knelt over the pale clone and, with his palm, searched for a heartbeat. There was none.
Butler tilted the clone’s head back, pinched its nose, and breathed life deep into its lungs.
He felt a weak heartbeat under his hand.
Butler fell backward. “Holly. I think…I think it worked.”
Holly crawled through the carpet of petals.
“Artemis,” she said urgently. “Artemis, come back to us.”
Two more breaths passed, then several rapid jerky ones, then Artemis’s eyes opened. Both a startling blue. The eyes were initially wide with shock, then fluttered like the wings of a jarred moth.
“Be calm,” said Holly. “You are safe now.”
Artemis frowned, trying to focus. It was clear that his faculties had not totally returned, and he did not yet remember the people leaning over him.
“Stay back,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
Holly took his hand. “We do know you, Artemis. And you know us. Try to remember.”
Artemis did try, concentrating until some of the clouds lifted.
“Y…you,” he said hesitantly. “You are my friends?”
Holly wept with sheer relief. “Yes,” she said. “We are your friends. Now we need to get you inside, before the locals arrive and see the recently deceased heir being escorted by fairies.”
Butler helped Artemis to his feet, on which he was obviously unsteady.
“Oh, go on, then,” said Foaly, offering his broad back. “Just this once.”
Butler lifted Artemis onto the centaur’s back and steadied him with a huge hand.
“You had me worried, Arty,” he said. “And your parents are devastated. Wait until they see you.”
As they walked across the fields, Holly pointed out areas of shared experience, hoping to jog the teen’s memory.
“Tell me,” Artemis said, his voice still weak. “How do I know you?”
And so Holly began her story: “It all started in Ho Chi Minh City one summer. It was sweltering by anyone’s standards. Needless to say, Artemis Fowl would not have been willing to put up with such discomfort if something extremely important had not been at stake. Important to the plan.…”