Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex Read Online Free

I could knock out everybody here with one finger or a sturdy pencil.”
    Foaly was eighty percent sure that Holly was bluffing, but all the same he covered the ganglia over his ears with cupped fingers.
    “Very well. I’ll keep quiet.”
    “Good. Proceed, Artemis.”
    “Thank you. But keep your sturdy pencil at the ready, Captain Short. I have a feeling that there could be some disbelief on the way.”
    Holly patted her pocket and winked. “2B hard graphite, nothing better for a quick organ rupture.”
    Holly was joking, but her heart wasn’t in it. Artemis felt that her comments were camouflage for whatever anxiety she was feeling. He rubbed his brow with a thumb and forefinger, using the gesture as cover to sneak a peek at his friend. Holly’s own brow was drawn in and her eyes narrow with worry.
    She knows, realized Artemis, but what Holly knew, he could not say exactly. She knows that something is different, that the even numbers have turned against me. Two twos are four fairies spitting bad luck on my plans.
    Then Artemis reviewed this last sentence, and for a second its lunacy was clear to him and he felt a fat coiled snake of panic heavy in his stomach.
    Could I have a brain tumor? he wondered. That would explain the obsessions, the hallucinations, and the paranoia. Or is it simply obsessive-compulsive disorder? The great Artemis Fowl felled by a common ailment.
    Artemis spared a moment to try an old hypnotherapist’s trick.
    Picture yourself in a good place. Somewhere you were happy and safe.
    Happy and safe? It had been a while.
    Artemis allowed his mind to fly, and he found himself sitting on a small stool in his grandfather’s workshop. His grandfather looked a little sneakier than Artemis remembered, and he winked at his five-year-old grandson and said, Do you know how many legs are on that stool, Arty? Three. Only three, and that’s not a good number for you. Not at all. Three is nearly as bad as four, and we all know what four sounds like in Chinese, don’t we?
    Artemis shuddered. This sickness was even corrupting his memories. He pressed the forefinger and thumb of his left hand together until the pads turned white. A trigger he’d taught himself to elicit calm when the number panic grew too strong. But the trigger was working less and less recently, or in this case not at all.
    I am losing my composure, he thought with quiet desperation. This disease is winning .
    Foaly cleared his throat, puncturing Artemis’s dream bubble. “Hello? Mud Boy? Important people waiting, get a move on.”
    And from Holly. “Are you okay, Artemis? Do you need to take a break?”
    Artemis almost laughed. Take a break during a presentation? If I did that, I might as well go and stand beside someone wearing an I’M WITH CRAZY T-shirt.
    “No. I’m fine. This is a big project, the biggest. I want to be sure that my presentation is perfect.”
    Foaly leaned forward until his already unsteady chair teetered dangerously. “You don’t look fine, Mud Boy. You look . . .” The centaur sucked his bottom lip, searching for the right word. “Beaten. Artemis, you look beaten.”
    Which was the best thing he could have possibly said.
    Artemis drew himself up. “I think, Foaly, that perhaps you do not read human expressions well. Perhaps our faces are too short. I am not beaten by any manner or means. I am considering my every word.”
    “Maybe you should consider a little faster,” advised Holly gently. “We are quite exposed here.”
    Artemis closed his eyes, collecting himself.
    Vinyáya drummed the table with her fingers. “No more delays, human. I am beginning to suspect that you have involved us in one of your notorious plans.”
    “No. This is a genuine proposal. Please, hear me out.”
    “I’m trying to. I want to. I came a long way for that exact purpose, but all you do is show off with your suitcase.”
    Artemis raised his hands to shoulder level, the movement activating his V-gloves, and tapped the