Artemis Fowl grinned right back at him and pointed his index finger to the sky... from the tip of this finger sprang a small blue spark that exploded like a tiny firework. “I know magic can be stolen,” said Artemis. “Because I stole some myself.

Good. Illegal is always faster.

There is always a use for everything, Victor had told him. Even pain.

Now I can do the bolts," she slurred. "I've been trying to focus enough magic all week." The magic shifted and swirled, finally etching a picture in the air. It was a rough picture of Foaly, and he was laughing. I hate you, centaur!" screamed Opal, lunging toward, and then through, the insubstantial image. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and then she collapsed, snoring, on the floor. Artemis straightened his tie. Freud, he was certain, would have a field day with that.

Play along, the wink said. I'll get you out of this. At least Artemis hoped this was what his wink communicated and not something like 'Any chance of another kiss later?

Stupid. Stupid. Foaly, we are both imbeciles. I don't expect lateral thinking from the LEP, but from you..." ... "What is it?" [Holly] asked, afraid of the answer, which must surely be terrible. "Yeah," agreed Foaly, who always had time to feel insulted. "Why am I an imbecile?

It took teams of LEP warlocks to slow down time for a few hours; the magic required to open a door to the tunnel was stupendous. It would be easier to shoot down the moon. Opal tapped this into her notepad. Reminder. Shoot down the moon? Viable?