Artemis Fowl and the Ballad of Frond

Chapter One: Why Mother Always Said Never Get in Cars With a Stranger

Betony Yale Lambert stood impatiently outside of the airport, smoking.

It was an unusually hot day in Dublin. Spring weather was often temperamental in the city and today it had chosen to be angrily feverish. The unclouded sun relentlessly beat the pavement causing the temperature to rise a good ten degrees. Men in business suits sweat shamelessly while large pools formed under their pits. Betony had long since abandoned her comfortable flying clothes in exchange for a summer dress that left little to the imagination. The desk had informed her that the transit was going to be thirty minutes late. That had been an hour and a half ago. She threw her cigarette down and reached for another. Her fingers missed. She tried again. Nothing. Finally, her eyes drifted downwards—empty. Her Camels were empty.

It was unforgivably hot. The transit was late. Her legs ached, and the man next to her kept bumping her ankle as he eagerly droned on and on about his son's football league.

Now, her cigarettes were gone.

Betony was going to loose her cool. It was inevitable. Her temper could be hotter than the weather. It was a hard notion to conceive, but achievable under the circumstances. She abandoned the bus line and walked down the sidewalk to one of the many limos, sports cars, and luxury vehicles that patiently waited for their escorts. Surely, one of them would be willing to give her a lift. She had even bothered to shower although the unmistakable scent of tobacco clung to her dress. Whatever, she thought bitterly, it's not like they don't smoke eight packs a day with their Vodka and antidepressants. The young girl looked anxiously at the row of cars. To her great pleasure she saw a well dressed—well, a well dressed someone or other walking swiftly toward a Bentley. She hurried toward him.

"Wait! Wait, please," Betony said breathlessly. As the driver put the suitcases in the car the young man glanced up at her, expressionlessly. Betony found herself approaching him with caution. She had an unusual perceptive about people, especially the uncommon ones. He was definitely uncommon. And dangerous. Regardless, she was desperate.

"Look," she began as if not requesting a favor but issuing a command, "I know this is a bit unprecedented but the bus isn't going to be arriving for another—well, I don't think it'll be here in the next century and I'm in a bit of a hurry. Urgent business, really. So if you don't—"

"Get in," the stranger said mechanically. Betony was too flustered to say thank you. It was something out of a novel, as if he had known she would be coming. Then again, what else could she have been looking for, running up to him like that? The strange rich boy closed the door beside her and entered the luxury vehicle on the other side. The driver expertly navigated his way out of the bustling roads of the airport, to the interstate.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"We?" Betony repeated raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. I will be dropping you off first. And since clearly more that one person is present in the car we shall all be going there."

Great, Betony lamented silently. I hitched a ride from the smart-ass Samaritan.

Out loud she replied, "I need to get to the four seasons. Stat."

The boy looked at her. His eyes were calculating, in such a way that made Betony's stomach churn. She had no clue what this expensive guy was thinking. Nor did she care, but it was still unnerving. Finally, he motioned his neck so he was looking into the rearview mirror. "Butler, pull over the car. Please."

Betony thought he might be joking. Obediantly, the driver pulled over. What the hell? She panicked. Is he going to rape me off the exit? It was unthinkable. Broad daylight, on the side of the road? Then again, cars were whizzing by, the windows she now noticed were tinted, and she was obviously alone. Damn.

"I just want you to know I'm in a band. We've been places. Dirty, filthy places. You have no what idea I might carrying."

The boy leaned over. Betony's brain kicked into over drive. If he thought she was just going to stand by and let him violate her…but he didn't touch her. He opened her door.

"Get out." The words sounded as automatic as when he had told her to get in.

Betony stared at him. Long. She looked at the driver. He said nothing. She looked back at the boy. Nothing. She lost her cool. "Out? You want me to get out after offering me a ride? I don't have time for your bullshit! I need to get to that hotel, now."

The young rich boy did not change his expression. He spoke clinically, "You told me your business was urgent. Correct?"

"Yes," Betony replied.

"I don't see how making it to the hotel of yours on time to get your room before it's booked to someone else urgent business. You conned your way in here. Now get out."

Bastard! Betony wanted to yell, but refrained. Had it been any other circumstance she would have blown up at the juvenile punk. She thought of why she flew to Dublin. She drew back.

"I'm not trying to make a deadline," the hothead managed explained coolly. "My step sister is at that hotel. I haven't heard from her in…in over week." Her heart began beating wildly as a new wave of anxiety flooded inside. The boy was staring at her intently. For some reason, this encouraged Betony to continue. "I got a call from the hotel. They said she left one day and never checked out. All her stuff is there, still. They're keeping it as collateral until she pays for her room but… no one has been able to find her."

There was a lingering moment of tense silence. The stranger was still looking at her his eyes calculating, again. The driver remained eerily motionless.

"If you don't mind," Betony said, her anxious worry whipping back to a vitriolic anger, "I would like you to cease with this bullshit and please just take me to the hotel!" She grabbed the door and slammed it shut. "Now!" She hated getting angry. It made her face flush. And yet, it made people do what she wanted quickly, no matter what they called her behind her back.

The boy nodded, and the car drove back onto the interstate. Betony glared out the window. The situation was beyond her control. She was at the mercy of a rich, stuck up bastard and then when he dropped her off—what? File a missing person's report? Wait for months and months? Hopelessly? She took a deep breath. Always with the melodramatics. Everything was fine. Everything was—

"What did your step sister doing in Dublin?" The rich boy interrupted her mental therapy with a question. No sorry's. No formalities.

Dear God. Would it ever end?

Betony answered him with a sharp glare and then put her head back on the window. You only ask because you feel bad about being an asshole.

"Are you going to answer?" He asked.

With my silence, yes.

"Butler if you don't mind pulling over—"

"What?" Betony screamed, suddenly not so mute. "Butler, do not pull over!"

Butler pulled over. Again, they were on the side of the road.

Again, Betony found herself yelling at her Samaritan from hell. "What. Is. Wrong with you!"

"Do I need to repeat the question?"

"She was here to visit a hematologist!" Betony wasn't quite yelling but her voice was raised. And he has not changed that damn expression since we got in the car! "She had given blood a couple of weeks ago and they found some weird compound in it and she wanted to know what it was. And as it happened some famed hematologist who had made advances in AIDS treatment was at a summit here and she wanted to meet him. Are you satisfied? Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

The boy seemed to be thinking. "Must have been Dr. Myazawa… anything else?"

"No." Betony's answer was flat. "Are you done yet?"

"Good." The car went back into drive. "And uh…if you ever tell Butler not to do something I tell him to again you will most definitely find yourself walking. And this time the car won't be stopped."

"Who exactly are you?" Betony asked.

The rich young man curved his lips into a smarmy, devilish grin. "Artemis Fowl."

They arrived at the Four Seasons without further incident. Despite himself, the girl amused Artemis. She was easily disarmed and provoked, much like a child. However, when she spoke of her stepsister so humbly with concern he could tell that there was a matriarchal maturity about her. She must have had to take care of her stepsister, he analyzed. They must be close. I can certainly empathize with her situation…losing someone, desperate to find them…

When they pulled up to the front lobby he made his decision. "I'm coming with you."

The girl's eyes widened. She laughed, clearly holding off another outburst. "No. No you're not. You're going with The Transporter back to whatever ritzy world you came from. Maybe you can pick up some more hitch hikers and leave them stranded if their destination is not worthy enough."

She slammed the door. "Wait in the car," Artemis ordered Butler, before leaving and following the girl.

"Oh lovely," she huffed haughtily. "Now you're stalking me?"

"Stalking?" he rebutted. "I'm quite certain this is a public area. Perhaps I'm interested in booking a room. I didn't get your name by the way."

She deliberately ignored him. Artemis smiled. Unlike most girls, who did this teasingly, knowing full well they were going to give themselves away, he genuinely annoyed her. A genuine chase, Artemis thought as he walking through the swinging doors behind her.

He followed her up to the receptionist's desk. Both clerks working were free. Side by side, the girl and Artemis stood facing them.

"My name is…" she glanced at Artemis. She knows she has to give the receptionist a full name. She won't cause a scene here. "…Betony Yale Lambert. I'm here to pay off the room booked by Regina Lambert and collect her things."

"Room 746?" The receptionist asked.

"Yes," Artemis addressed his own clerk, "I would like to book room 746."

He could feel Ms. Lambert glaring at him. The clerks seemed a bit flustered—they glanced at each other. "Yes well… yes this room was a recently cleaned and is now opened…"

"When exactly was it cleaned?" Artemis asked. "I like to have things immaculate."

The clerk informed him it had just been cleared that morning. Artemis thanked her, paid, and took the key. As he walked across the lobby he could hear an angry march directly behind him.

"Who is the stalker now?" He called teasingly.

They stopped in front of the elevator not saying a word. He smirked. She grimaced. Together, they got on, standing on either side of an obese man.

"You're sick," Betony hissed.

"You're the one who got in the car with me," Artemis grinned.

Suddenly, Betony made a move that Artemis had not entirely calculated. She stopped the elevator, and then, before Artemis could react, had him pushed against the wall. The obese man coughed uncomfortably. He'd seen enough porn to know where this was going.

"I don't need you getting in my fucking way," Betony whispered into the genius's ear. "I'm a woman. Unfortunately, I have a certain power over you and if I cry wolf your ass is in the locker. Clear?"

Had Artemis been a common crook he would have felt intimidated. But he had spent a grand majority around one the toughest female figures he had witnessed, although this Betony gave her a run for her money. Too much CSI, probably.

Artemis cleared his throat. "My dear, where this may work in the hovels that your band plays in—yes, I remember you saying that—it does not account for much here. Especially," he gestured toward the fat man, now pressed in a corner, "around witnesses." She paused for a minute, thinking. "Don't forget my driver," Artemis reminded gently.

The fierce girl loosened her grip but still had Artemis pressed against the wall. "What do I have to do to make you go away?"

It was another opportunity for Artemis to be righteous bastard. He could easily suggest something sexual if he allowed his maturity to drop the far. He refused. Despite the young billionaire antics, he was still a gentleman. And he was well aware her limits were being pushed.

"Just let me see the room."

Betony released him, glaring. Somehow she knows, Artemis thought. She knows I can help. She has a natural instinct. She would make a remarkable cop. Still… she is very childish.

The doors chimed open. Much to the relief of the fat man the two very strange adolescents left together.