“No, no. Salmon is not good enough. Squid and lobster are what we ordered. You have them here by eight o’clock, or I will come down there, slice you up, and serve you as sushi instead.”
“Trouble with the caterers?” Artemis said pleasantly when the man had disconnected.
“Yes,” replied the man. “The exhibition is opening tonight and . . .”
The man stopped because he had looked up to see who he was talking to and spotted Butler.
“Well, wow. Big. I mean hello. I am Mr. Lin, the curator here. Can I help you?”
“We were hoping for a private preview of the exhibition,” said Artemis. “Specifically, the dancing figures.”
Mr. Lin was so surprised, he could do little more than bluster. “What? A what? Private? No, no, no. Impossible, out of the question. This is important art. Look at my head. Look! I don’t just do this for any old exhibition.”
“I realize that, but my friend here, the large one, would be extremely happy if you could let us in for a minute.”
Mr. Lin opened his mouth to answer, but something down the hall caught his attention.
“What is that? Is that a muumuu?”
Artemis didn’t bother to look. “Oh, yes. We have disguised our fairy friend as a child in a muumuu.”
Mr. Lin frowned, and the spiral on his head moved. “Fairy friend? Oh, really? Who are you people? Are you from Pop Art Today? Is this one of Dougie Hemler’s postmodern stunts?”
“No. He’s a real fairy. A demon warlock, to be precise. The one behind him, flying, is an elf.”
“Flying? You tell Dougie Hemler from me that there’s isn’t a chance in . . .” Then he spotted Holly hovering over No1’s head. “Oh!”
“Oh!” agreed Artemis. “That’s a fair reaction. Now, can we go in? It’s extremely important.”
“Are you going to ruin the exhibition?”
“Probably,” Artemis admitted.
Mr. Lin’s lip quivered as he spoke. “Then I can’t let you in.”
Holly darted forward, collapsing her helmet visor.
“I think you can let us in,” she said, her voice layered with magic. “Because these three humans are your oldest friends. You invited them for a sneak preview.”
“And what about you two?”
“Don’t worry about us. We’re not even here. We’re just inspiration for your next exhibition. So why don’t you buzz us all in.”
Mr. Lin flapped a hand at Holly. “Why would I worry about you? You’re not even here. Just some silly idea flying around my head. As for you three guys, I am so glad you could make it. Why don’t you go ahead. That exhibit is going to knock your socks off!”
“You don’t need to video us,” prompted Holly.
“Why don’t you shut down the gallery cameras?”
“I’ll just switch off the gallery cameras, give you guys a little privacy.”
“Good idea.”
The curator had turned his attention to the pile of posters on his desk before the security door closed behind Artemis and his group.
The exhibition hall was ultramodern, with dark wooden floors and slatted blinds. The walls were hung with photographs, giant blow-ups of the dancing figures in the center of the room. The figures themselves were raised on a dais, to make their detail easier to view. There were so many spotlights on the figures that there was barely a shadow on the stone.
No1 absently pulled off his bonnet, approaching the exhibit in a daze as though he had been mesmerized and not the curator.
He climbed onto the dais, stroking the stone skin of the first figure.
“Warlocks,” he whispered. “Brothers.”
The sculpture was beautiful in its detail, and yet horrific in its subject matter. It consisted of four creatures, ranged in a broken semicircle, in the act of dancing or recoiling from something. They were small squat fairies, like No1, with thrusting jaws, barrel chests, and stumpy tails. Their bodies, limbs, and foreheads were covered with swirling runes. The demons were all holding hands, and the fourth held on to the severed hand of the next in line.
“The circle was broken,” said No1. “Something went wrong.”
Artemis climbed onto the dais beside him. “Can you bring them back?
“Bring them back?” said No1, startled.
“From what I know of the gargoyle’s touch, it can transform living things to stone, and back again. You have the touch; can you use it?”
No1 rubbed his palms nervously. “I may have the touch. You know, maybe and that’s a big maybe. I turned a wooden skewer to stone, at least I think it was stone. Maybe it was just coated with ash. I was under a lot of pressure. Everybody was watching. You know how it is—maybe you don’t. How many of you have even been in imp school. None, right?”
Artemis gripped his shoulder. “You’re babbling, No1. You need to concentrate.”
“Yes. Of course. Concentrate. Focus. Think.”
“Good. Now see if you can bring them back. It’s the only way to save Hybras.”
Holly shook her head. “Way to keep the pressure off, genius.”
Minerva was circling the exhibit in a daze. “These statues are actual demons. They have been among us all this time. I should have seen it, but Abbot looked nothing like his.”
Holly landed beside the girl, up close.
“There are entire species that you know nothing about. You almost helped to wipe out one of them. You were lucky. If that had happened, a dozen Artemis Fowls would not have been enough to rescue you from the fairy police.”
“I see. I said sorry already. Can we move on?”
Holly frowned at her. “Glad to see you’ve forgiven yourself so quickly.”
“Harboring feelings of guilt can have a negative affect on mental health.”
“Child geniuses,” growled Holly.
“Genii,” said Minerva.
On the dais, No1 was laying hands on one of the petrified demons.
“So, back in Hybras. I just kind of held the skewer and got excited, then it started. I wasn’t trying to turn it into stone.”
“Could you get excited now?” asked Artemis.
“What? Just like that? I don’t know. I feel a bit sick, to be honest. I think the muumuu is giving me a headache. It really is bright.”
“Maybe if Butler gave you a fright?”
“It’s not the same. I need some real pressure. I know Mr. Butler wouldn’t actually kill me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure.”
“Oh, ha-ha. You’re a funny one,” said No1. “I can see I’m going to have to stay on my toes around you.”
Butler was checking his pistol, when he heard noises in the corridor. He ran to the security door and peered out through the small rectangle of toughened glass.
“We’ve got company,” he declared, cocking his pistol. “Kong found us.”
The bodyguard put a single round into the electronic lock, frying the chip and sealing the door.
“It’s not going to take them long to open that door. We need to wake up those demons and get out of here. Now!”
Artemis squeezed No1’s shoulder, nodding at the security door.
“That enough pressure for you?”
On the other side of the security door, Kong and his men were halted by the sight of a smoking keypad.
“Dammit,” swore Kong. “He busted the lock. We’re going to have to shoot our way in. There’s no time for planning. Don, you have the case?”
Don held up the suitcase. “Right here.”
“Good. If by some miracle there is a demon in there, clip the case onto its little wrist, good and tight. I don’t want to miss another chance.”
“Will do. We have grenades, boss. We could blow the door.”
“No,” snapped Kong. “I need Minerva and I don’t want her injured. Anyone hurts her, I hurt them. Understood?”
Everybody understood. Nothing complicated about it.