Read Online Artemis Fowl 08 - The Last Guardian by Eoin Colfer - Free Book Online Page A

fort had been worn down to a nub by the elements, and strange black ivy had thrown tendrils along the walls as though trying to reclaim the stone for the earth. The would-be conquerors were Artemis Fowl’s brothers: four-year-old Myles and his twin, Beckett. The boys had rushed the tower several times with wooden swords but were rebuffed by Juliet and sent gently tumbling into the long grass. Beckett squealed with laughter, but Juliet could see that Myles was growing more and more frustrated at the failure of his assaults.
    Just like Artemis, that one, Juliet thought. Another little criminal mastermind.
    For the past ten minutes the boys had been rustling behind a bush, plotting their next attack. Juliet could hear muffled giggles and terse commands as Myles no doubt issued a complicated series of tactical instructions to Beckett.
    Juliet smiled. She could just imagine the scenario.
    Myles would say something like:
    You go one way, Beck, and I go the other. ’S called flanking.
    To which Beckett would respond with something like: I like caterpillars.
    It was true to say that the brothers loved each other more than they loved themselves, but Myles lived in a state of constant frustration that Beckett could not, or would not, follow the simplest instruction.
    Any second now Beckett will grow bored with this tactical meeting, thought Butler’s younger sister, and come wandering from the bush brandishing his toy sword.
    Moments later, Beckett did indeed stumble from the bush, but it was not a sword that he brandished.
    Juliet swung her leg over the low parapet and called suspiciously.
    “Beck, what have you got there?”
    Beckett waved the item. “Underpants,” he said frankly.
    Juliet looked again to confirm that the grubby triangle was indeed a pair of underpants. Because of the knee-length Wimpy Kid T-shirt he had worn for the past forty-eight days, it was impossible to ascertain whether or not the underpants were Beckett’s own, though it seemed likely, given that the boy’s legs were bare.
    Beckett was something of an unruly character and, in her few months as nanny/bodyguard, Juliet had seen a lot worse things than underpants—for example, the worm farm that Beckett had constructed in the downstairs bathroom and fertilized personally.
    “Okay, Beck,” she called down from the tower. “Just put the underpants down, kiddo. I’ll get you a clean pair.”
    Beckett advanced steadily. “Nope. Beckett is sick of stupid underpants. These’re for you. A present.”
    The boy’s face glowed with innocent enthusiasm, convinced that his Y-fronts were about the best present a girl could get—besides a pair of his Y-fronts with a handful of beetles cradled inside.
    Juliet countered with: “But it’s not my birthday.”
    Beckett was at the foot of the worn tower now, waving the pants like a flag. “I love you, Jules—take the present.”
    He loves me, thought Juliet. Kids always know the weak spot.
    She tried one last desperate ploy. “But won’t your bottom be chilly?”
    Beckett had an answer for that. “Nope. I don’t ever feel cold.”
    Juliet smiled fondly. It was easy to believe. Bony Beckett gave off enough heat to boil a lake. Hugging him was like hugging a restless radiator.
    At this point, Juliet’s only way to avoid touching the underpants was a harmless lie. “Rabbits love old underpants, Beck. Why don’t you bury them as a gift for Papa Rabbit?”
    “Rabbits don’t need underpants,” said a sinister little voice behind her. “They are warm-blooded mammals, and their fur is sufficient clothing in our climate.”
    Juliet felt the tip of Myles’s wooden sword in her thigh and realized that the boy had used Beckett as a distraction, then circled around to the back steps.
    I didn’t hear a thing, she mused. Myles is learning to creep.
    “Very good, Myles,” she said. “How did you get Beckett to follow your instructions?”
    Myles grinned smugly, and the resemblance to Artemis was uncanny. “I