Artemis nodded, strapping the mirrored sunglasses across his brow.
...

Holly was dumbfounded. There was a human before her, casually
spouting sacred secrets. This was disastrous. Catastrophic. It could mean
the end of generations of peace. If the humans were aware of a fairy
subculture, it was only a matter of time before the two species went to war.
She must do something, and there was only one weapon left in her arsenal.
The mesmer is the lowest form of magic and requires only a trickle of
power. There are even certain humans with a bent for the talent. It is
within the ability of even the most drained fairy to put a complete mind
kibosh on any human alive.
Holly summoned the final dribble of magic from the base of her
skull.
“Human,” she intoned, her voice suddenly resonating with bass tones.
“Your will is mine.”
Artemis smiled, safe behind his mirrored lenses. “I doubt it,” he said,
and nodded curtly.

- Artemis Fowl, Chapter 4