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.

- Artemis Fowl, Chapter 4