and his manservant squeezed the trigger.
In spite of a million-to-one odds, it was at that precise moment that the figure bent low to the earth.
Something whizzed over Holly’s head, something that glinted in the starlight. Holly had enough on-the-job experience to realize that she was under fire, and immediately curled her elfin frame into a ball, minimizing the target.
She drew her pistol, rolling toward the shelter of the tree trunk. Her brain scrambled for possibilities. Who could be shooting at her and why?
Something was waiting beside the tree. Something roughly the size of a mountain, but considerably more mobile.
“Nice peashooter,” grinned the figure, smothering Holly’s gun hand in a turnip-sized fist.
Holly managed to extricate her fingers a nanosecond before they snapped like brittle spaghetti.
“I don’t suppose you would consider peaceful surrender?” said a cold voice behind her.
Holly turned, elbows raised for combat.
“No,” sighed the boy melodramatically. “I suppose not.”
Holly put on her best brave face.
“Stay back, human. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
The boy laughed. “I believe, fairy, that you are the one unfamiliar with the facts.”
Fairy? He knew she was a fairy.
“I have magic, mud-worm. Enough to turn you and your gorilla into pig droppings.”
The boy took a step closer. “Brave words, miss. But lies nonetheless. If, as you say, you had magic, you would have no doubt used it by now. No, I suspect that you have gone too long without the Ritual and you are here to replenish your powers.”
Holly was dumbfounded. There was a human before her, casually spouting sacred secrets. This was disastrous. Catastrophic. It could mean the end of generations of peace. If the humans were aware of a fairy subculture, it was only a matter of time before the two species went to war. She must do something, and there was only one weapon left in her arsenal.
The mesmer is the lowest form of magic and requires only a trickle of power. There are even certain humans with a bent for the talent. It is within the ability of even the most drained fairy to put a complete mind kibosh on any human alive.
Holly summoned the final dribble of magic from the base of her skull.
“Human,” she intoned, her voice suddenly resonating with bass tones. “Your will is mine.”
Artemis smiled, safe behind his mirrored lenses. “I doubt it,” he said, and nodded curtly.
Holly felt the dart puncture the suit’s toughened material, depositing its load of curare and succinylcholine chloride-based tranquilizer into her shoulder. The world instantly dissolved into a series of technicolored bubbles and, try as she might, Holly couldn’t seem to hold on to more than one thought. And that thought was: How did they know? It spiraled around her head as she sank into unconsciousness. How did they know? How did they know? How did they . . .
Artemis saw the pain in the creature’s eyes as the hollow hypodermic plunged into her body. And for a moment he experienced misgivings. A female. He hadn’t expected that. A female, like Juliet, or Mother. Then the moment passed and he was himself again.
“Good shooting,” he said, bending to study their prisoner. Definitely a girl. Pretty too. In a pointy sort of way.
“Sir?”
“Hmm?”
Butler was pointing to the creature’s helmet. It was half buried in a drift of leaves where the fairy had dropped it. A buzzing noise was coming from the crown.
Artemis picked up the contraption by the straps, searching for the source.
“Ah, here we are.” He plucked the viewcam from its slot, careful to point the lens away from Butler. “Fairy technology. Most impressive,” he muttered, popping the battery from its groove. The camera whined and died. “Nuclear power source, if I’m not mistaken. We must be careful not to underestimate our opponents.”
Butler nodded, sliding their captive into an oversized duffel bag. Something else to be lugged
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