CHAPTER 15: MURDER
MOST FOWL
THE Fowl family currently had three aircraft. A
Learjet and a Sikorsky helicopter, were hangared at the nearby
airport, and a small Cessna, which lived in a small garage workshop
beside the high meadow on the northern border of the estate. The
Cessna was several years old and would have been recycled some time
ago had Artemis not taken it on as a project. His aim was to make
it carbon-neutral and cost-effective, a goal which his
father heartily approved of.
‘I have forty scientists working on the same problem, but my money is on you,’ he had confided to his son.
And so Artemis coated the entire body of the craft with lightweight super-efficient solar panels, like NASA’s prototype flying wing, the Helios. Unlike the Helios, Artemis’s Cessna could still fly at its normal speeds and take passengers. This was because Artemis had removed the single engine and installed smaller ones to turn the main propeller, the four extra props on the wings and the landing gear. Most of the metal in the skeleton had been stripped out and replaced with a lightweight polymer. Where the fuel tank had been now sat a small battery.
There were still a few adjustments to make, but Artemis believed his ship was skyworthy. He hoped so. There was a lot riding on the soundness of the little craft. He sprinted from the kitchen door across the courtyard and towards the high meadow. With any luck Opal would not realize he was gone until she saw the plane taking off. Of course then he wanted her to see him. Hopefully, he could draw her away long enough for LEP reinforcements to arrive.
Artemis felt the tiredness in his legs before he had gone a hundred metres. He had never been the athletic type and the recent time-stream jaunts had done nothing for his physique, even though he had concentrated hard on his muscles during the trips. Willing himself to tone up. A little mind-over-matter experiment that sadly had not yielded any results.
The old farm gate to the meadow was closed, so Artemis scaled it rather than struggle with the heavy bolt. He could feel the heat from the simian’s body high inside his jacket and its little hands were tight on his neck.
Jayjay must be safe, he thought. He must be saved.
The garage doors were sturdier than they looked and protected with a keypad entry system. Artemis tapped in the code and threw the doors wide, flooding the interior with the deep orange rays of the early-evening sun. Inside, nestled in a horseshoe of benches and tool trolleys, was the modified Cessna, hooked up to a supplementary power cable. Artemis snapped the cable from its socket on the fuselage and clambered into the cockpit. He strapped himself into the pilot’s seat, remembering briefly when he had first flown this plane solo.
Nine years old. I needed a booster seat.
The engines started immediately and virtually silently. The only noise came from the whirring of the propellers and the clicks of switches as Artemis ran through his preflight check.
The news was generally good. Eighty per cent power. That gave the small plane a range of several hundred miles. Easily enough to lead Opal on a merry dance along the Irish coast. But the flaps were sticky and the seals were old.
Don’t take her over three thousand metres.
‘We’re going to be fine,’ he said to the passenger inside his jacket. ‘Absolutely fine.’
Was this the truth? He could not be certain.
The high meadow was wide and long and sloped gently upwards to the estate wall. Artemis nudged the Cessna from her hangar, swinging the nose in a tight turn to give himself maximum runway. Under ideal circumstances, the five-hundred-metre stretch of grass was more than ample for a take-off. But there was a tailwind and the grass was a few centimetres longer than it should be.
Despite these considerations, we should be OK. I have flown in worse conditions than these.
The take-off was textbook. Artemis pulled back on the nosewheel at the three-hundred-metre mark and comfortably cleared the north wall. Even at this low altitude he could see the Irish Sea to the west, black with scimitars of sunlight slicing across the wave tips.
He was tempted, for the merest fraction of a moment, just to flee, but he didn’t.
Have I changed utterly? Artemis asked himself. He realized that he was running out of palatable crimes. Not so long ago, nearly all crime had been acceptable to him.
No, he decided. There were still people who deserved to be stolen from, or exposed, or dropped in deep jungle with only flip-flops and a spoon. He would just have to put more effort into finding them.
Artemis activated the wing cameras. There was one such person on the avenue below. A megalomaniac, cold-hearted pixie. Opal Koboi. Artemis could see her striding towards the manor, jamming Holly’s helmet down over her ears.
I was afraid of that. She thought to take the helmet. A most valuable tool.
Still, he had no alternative but to attract her attention. The lives of his family and friends were at stake. Artemis took the Cessna down thirty metres, following Opal’s path to the manor. She may not hear the engine, but the sensors in Holly’s helmet would throw up a dozen red lights.
On cue, Opal stopped in her tracks, throwing her gaze skywards, capturing the small plane in her sights.
Come on, Opal, thought Artemis. Take the bait. Run a thermal.
∗
Opal strode purposefully towards the manor until she snagged the toe of one LEP boot under the heel of another.
Stupid tall elf, she thought furiously, righting herself. When I am queen – no – when I am empress, all tall fairies will have their legs modified. Or, better still, I will have a human pituitary gland grafted to my brain so that I shall be the tall one. A giant among fairies, physically and mentally.
She had other plans too: an Opalesque cosmetic face mould that could give any of her adoring fans the Koboi look in seconds. A homeopathic hoverchair covered in massage bars and mood sensors that would read her humour and spray whatever scents were needed to cheer her up.
But those plans could wait until she was empress. For now the lemur was her priority. Without its brain fluid, it could take years to accomplish her plans. Plus magic was so much easier than science.
Opal slotted Holly’s helmet on to her head. Pads inside the helmet automatically inflated to cradle her skull. There was some coded security, which she contemptuously hacked with a series of blinks and hand movements. These LEP helmets were not half as advanced as the models in her R&D department.
Once the hemet’s functions were open to her, the visor’s display crystals fizzled and turned scarlet. Red alert! Something was closing in. A 3D radar sweep revealed a small craft overhead, and recogniton software quickly pegged it as a human-built Cessna.
She quickly selected the command sequence for a thermal scan and the helmet infra-red detector analysed the electromagnetic radiation coming from inside the aircraft. There was some waffle from the solar panels but the scan isolated an orange blob in the pilot’s seat. One passenger only. The helmet’s biometric reader conveniently identified the pilot as Artemis Fowl, and dropped a 3D icon over his fuzzy figure.
‘One passenger,’ murmured Opal. ‘Are you trying to decoy me away from the house, Artemis Fowl? Is that why you fly so low?’
But Artemis Fowl knew technology, he would anticipate thermal-imaging.
‘What do you have up your sleeve?’ wondered the pixie. ‘Or perhaps up your shirt.’
She magnified Artemis’s heart and discovered a second heat source superimposed over the first, distinguishable only by a slightly cooler shade of red.
Even at that desperate moment, Opal could not help but admire this young human, who had attempted to mask the lemur’s heat signature with his own.
‘Clever. But not ingenious.’
And he would need to be ingenious to defeat Opal Koboi. Bringing back the second Artemis had been a neat trick, but she should have caught it.
I was defeated by my own arrogance, she realized. That will not happen again.
The helmet automatically tuned into the Cessna’s radio frequency and so Opal sent Artemis a little message.
‘I am coming for the lemur, boy,’ she said, a pulse of magic setting the suit’s wings a flutter. ‘And this time there will be no you to save you.’
Artemis could not feel or see the various waves that probed the Cessna, but he guessed that Opal would use the helmet’s thermal imager to see how many hot bodies were on the plane. Perhaps she would try X-ray too. It would seem as though he was trying to hide Jayjay’s heat signature with his own, but that was a transparent ploy and should not fool Opal for more than a heartbeat. When the pixie was satisified that her prize was escaping, then how could she not follow?
Artemis banked starboard, to keep Opal in the camera eye, and was satisfied to see a set of wings sliding from the slots in Holly’s suit.
The chase was on.
Time for the bait to pretend it was trying to escape.
Artemis peeled away from the estate, heading for the deep purple sea, opening the throttle wide, satisfied by the plane’s smooth acceleration. The batteries were channelling a steady supply of power to the engines without releasing one gram of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere.
He checked the tail camera view and was not totally surprised to find the flying pixie in his monitor.
Her control over the magic is addled by sedative, he guessed. Opal may have had barely enough power to jump-start the suit. But soon the dart’s after-effects will peter out and then there may be lightning bolts flaring across my wing.
Artemis turned south, following the jagged coast. The clamour and bustle of Dublin’s high-rise apartment blocks, belching chimneys and swarm of buzzing helicopters gave way to long stretches of grey rock shadowed by the north-south railtrack. The sea pushed against the shore, folding its million fingers over sand, scrub and shale.
Fishing boats chugged from buoy to buoy, trailing white sea-serpent wakes, sailors snagging lobster pots with long-handled gaffes. Fat clouds hung ponderously at four thousand metres, rain brewing in their bellies.
A peaceful evening, so long as no one looks up.
Though at this altitude, Opal’s blurred flying form could be mistaken for an eagle.
Artemis’s plan went smoothly for longer than he’d hoped. He made sixty miles without interference from Opal. Artemis allowed himself a glimmer of hope.
Soon, he thought. The LEP reinforcements will come soon.
Then his radio crackled into life.
‘Artemis? Are you there, Artemis?’
Butler. He sounded extremely calm, which he always did before he explained just how serious a situation was.
‘Butler, old friend, I’m here. Tell me the good news.’
The bodyguard sighed into his microphone, a breaking wave of static.
‘They’re not coming after the Cessna. You are not the priority.’
‘Number One is,’ said Artemis. ‘They need to get him below ground. I understand.’
‘Say no more, old friend,’ said Artemis sharply. ‘Opal is listening.’
‘The LEP are here, Artemis. I want you to turn round and fly back.’
‘No,’ said Artemis firmly. ‘I will not put Mother at risk again.’
Artemis heard a strange creaking sound and surmised that Butler was strangling the microphone stalk.
‘OK. Another location then. Somewhere we can dig ourselves in.’
‘Very well, I am on a southerly heading anyway, so why not–’
Artemis never completed his veiled suggestion as his channel was blocked by a deafening burst of white noise. The squawk left a droning aftershock in his ears, and for a moment he allowed the Cessna to drift.
No sooner had he regained control than a thudding blow to the fuselage caused him to lose it again.
Several red lights flashed on the display-plane solar-panel icon. At least ten panels had been shattered by the impact.
Artemis spared half a second to check the rear camera. Opal was no longer trailing behind. No surprise there.
The pixie’s voice burst through the radio speakers, sharp with petulance and evil intent.
‘I am strong now, Mud Boy,’ she said. ‘Your poison is gone, flushed from my system. My power grows and I am hungry for more.’
Artemis did not engage in conversation. All his skill and quick thinking would be needed to pilot the Cessna.
Opal struck again on the port wing, smashing her forearms into the solar panels, breaking them as a child would break sheets of ice in a pool, windmilling her arms gleefully, wings buzzing to keep pace. The plane bucked and yawed and Artemis fought the stick to pull the craft level.
She’s insane, thought Artemis. Utterly insane.
And.
Those panels are unique. And she calls herself a scientist.
Opal scampered along the wing, punching an armoured fist into the fuselage itself. More panels were obliterated and tiny fist-sized dents buckled the polymer over Artemis’s shoulder. Tiny cracks ran along the dents, slit by the wind.
Opal’s voice was loud in the speaker. ‘Land, Fowl. Land and I may not return to the manor when I have finished with you. Land! Land!’
Each order to land was emphasized by another blow on the cockpit. The windscreen exploded inwards, showering Artemis with jagged chunks of plexiglass.
‘Land! Land!’
You have the product, Artemis reminded himself. So you have the power. Opal cannot afford to kill Jayjay.
The wind screamed in Artemis’s face, and the readings from his flight instruments made no sense unless Opal was scrambling them with the LEP suit’s field. But Artemis still had a chance. There was fight left in this Fowl.
He pointed the nose downwards, banking sharply left. Opal kept pace easily, tearing strips from the fuselage. She was a destructive shadow in the dimming dusk light.
Artemis could smell the sea.
He was too low. Too soon.
More red lights on the instrument panel. The power supply had been cut. The batteries were breached. The altimeter whirred and beeped.
Opal was at the side window. Artemis could see her tiny teeth grinning at him. She was saying something. Shouting. But the radio was not operational any more. Just as well probably.
She is having the time of her life, he realized. Fun, fun, fun.
Artemis struggled with the controls. The sticky flaps were the least of his worries now. If Opal decided to snip a few cables, then he would lose whatever say he had over the plane. Though it was too early, Artemis lowered the tricycle landing gear. If Opal sabotaged the mechanism now, the wheels should stay down.
They plummeted earthwards, locked together. A sparrow on an eagle’s back. Opal smashed her armoured head through the door window’s plexiglass, still shouting inside the helmet, spittle spraying the visor. Issuing orders that Artemis could not hear and could not spare enough time to lip-read. He could see that her eyes glowed red with magic and it was clear from her manic expression that any threads connecting her to rationality had been severed.
More shouting. Muffled behind the visor. Artemis cast a sardonic gaze at the radio, which sat dead and dark in its cradle.
Opal caught the look and raised her visor, shouting over the wind, too impatient for the helmet PA.
‘Give me the lemur and I will save you,’ she said, her voice mesmerizing. ‘You have my–’
Artemis avoided her gaze and pulled the emergency flare gun from under the seat, sticking it in her face.
‘You leave me no choice but to shoot you,’ he said, voice cold and certain. This was not a threat, it was a statement of fact.
Opal knew the truth when she heard it and for one second her resolve wavered. She pulled back, but not quickly enough to prevent Artemis from firing the flare into her helmet, then reaching up to flick down the visor.
Opal spun away from the Cessna, trailing black smoke, red sparks swarming round her head like angry wasps. Her wing smashed into the Cessna’s, and neither survived intact. Solar-cell splinters flashed like stardust and tail feathers from Opal’s flying rig helicoptered slowly earthwards. The aeroplane yawed to starboard, moaning like a wounded animal.
I need to land. Now.
Artemis didn’t feel guilty about what he’d done. Flare burns would not hinder a being of Opal’s regenerative power for long. Already the magic would be repairing her skin damage. At best he had bought himself a few minutes’ reprieve.
When Opal comes back, she will be beyond furious. A true maniac. Perhaps her judgement will be clouded.
Artemis smiled grimly, and for a moment he felt like his old conniving self, before Holly and his mother had introduced him to their pesky moral codes.
Good. Clouded judgement may give me the advantage I need.
Artemis levelled the craft as much as he could, slowing his descent. Wind slapped his face, tugging his skin. Shielding his eyes with a forearm, he peered downwards through the blur of propeller spin.
Hook Head peninsula jutted into the blackness of the sea below him like a slate-grey arrowhead. A cluster of lights winked on the eastern curve. This was the village of Duncade, where Butler had awaited his young charge’s return from Limbo. A magical inlet which had once sheltered the demon isle of Hybras. The entire area was a magical hotspot and would set LEP spectrometers buzzing.
Dark blue night was falling quickly, and it was difficult to tell hard ground from soft. Artemis knew that a carpet of meadow ran from Duncade to the Hook Head lighthouse, but could only see the grass strip once every five seconds when it flashed emerald in the tower’s beam.
My runway, thought Artemis.
He dragged the Cessna into the best possible approach line, descending in uneven, stomach-lurching swoops. Solar panels frittered away from the nose and wings, streaming behind the craft.
Still no sign of Opal.
She’s coming. Make no mistake about it.
With each flash of green, the hard earth rushed up to meet him.
Too fast, thought Artemis. I am coming in too fast. I will never get my legal pilot’s licence flying like this.
He clenched his jaws and held the stick tightly. Touchdown was going to be rough.
And it was, though not bone-shatteringly so. Not the first time. It was on the second bounce that Artemis was shunted forward into the console and heard the left side of his collarbone snap. A horrible sound that brought bile to his throat.
No pain yet. Just cold. I am going into shock.
The Cessna’s wheels skidded on the long grass, which was coated with sea-spray and slicker than ice. Artemis scowled, not because of his injuries but because his fate was in the hands of chance now; he had no control. Opal would be coming for Jayjay and he must do his utmost to distract her.
The outside world continued to intrude most violently on Artemis’s thoughts. The front wheel strut glanced off a sharp rock, shearing away completely. For several seconds the wheel continued to roll alongside the plane, until it veered off into the darkness.
Another bump and the Cessna collapsed on to its nose, propeller ploughing furrows in the earth. Sheaves of grass fanned the air and clods of muck rained through the holes in the windscreen.
Artemis tasted earth and thought, I don’t see what Mulch makes all the fuss about. It’s not exactly lobster mousse.
Then he was out of the plane and stumbling towards the rocky shoreline. Artemis did not call for help and none would have come if he had. The rocks were black, treacherous and deserted. The sea was loud and the wind blew high. Even if the lighthouse beam had pinned the falling plane’s image to the sky, it would be a long while before unarmed, unsuspecting villagers arrived to offer assistance. And by then it would be too late.
Artemis stumbled on, his left arm hanging low. His good hand cupped the furry head poking from the front of his jacket.
‘Almost there,’ he panted.
A pair of sea stacks jutted from the waters like the last teeth from the gums of a tobacco chewer. Thirty-metre-high hard-rock columns that had resisted the erosive power of wind and wave. The locals called them The Nuns because of their sisterly appearance. Head-to-toe habits.
The Nuns were quite the local attraction and sturdy rope bridges spanned the chasms from shore to Little Sister and on to Mother Superior. Butler once told Artemis that he had spent many lonely nights on the second sea stack with night-vision binoculars, glassing the ocean for a sign of Hybras.
Artemis stepped on to the first span of the bridge. It rippled and creaked slightly under his feet, but held firm. He saw the sea far below through the slats, flat rocks pushing through the surface like mushrooms through clay. The body of an unlucky dog lay splayed on one of the lower rocks, a stark reminder of what could happen if you lost your footing on The Nuns.
I am hurrying towards a dead end, he told himself. Once I reach the second stack, there is nowhere to go but down.
But there was no choice. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Opal was coming. He did not even need his shield-filtered sunglasses to see her. The pixie had no magic to spare for invisibility. She lurched zombie-like across the meadow, a red haze of magic lighting her face inside the helmet, fists clenched balls at her side. Her wings were outstretched, but tattered and battered. She would not be flying anywhere on those. Only the power of Jayjay could save Opal now. He was her last hope for victory. If she did not inject his brain fluid soon, then surely the LEP would arrive to protect the endangered lemur.
Artemis walked across the bridge, careful not to bash his dangling arm against the railing. Miraculously, he was in little constant pain, but every footstep sent a throb of white-hot agony flashing across his upper chest.
Distract her a while longer. Then the cavalry will surely arrive. The winged, invisible cavalry. They wouldn’t abandon him, would they?
‘Fowl!’ the shriek came from behind him. Closer than he expected. ‘Give me the monkey!’
The voice was layered with wasted magic. No eye contact. No mesmer.
Monkey, thought Artemis, smirking. Ha ha.
Further across the chasm. Blackness above and below, star points in the sky and sea. Waves growling like tigers. Hungry.
Artemis stumbled towards the first Nun. Little Sister. Stepping out on to a rock plateau worn treacherous. His foot slipped on the surface and he spun across the diameter of the summit like a ballroom dancer with an unseen partner.
He heard Opal’s shriek. For Jayjay to die now would be disaster, as she would be stuck in this time with the entire LEP on her trail and no ultimate powers.
Artemis did not look back, though he ached to. He could hear Opal clanking across the boards, swearing with each breath. The words sounded almost comical in her childlike pixie voice.
Nowhere to go but forward. Artemis almost fell on to the second span of bridge, pulling himself along the rope rail until he arrived at Mother Superior. Locals said that if you stood at the right point on the coastline at sunrise, and squinted a little, then you could just make out stern features on the Mother Superior’s face.
The rock felt stern now. Bleak and unforgiving. Even one false step would not be tolerated.
Artemis dropped to his knees on the mushroom curve of the plateau, cupping his left elbow in his right palm.
Soon, shock and pain will overcome me. Not yet, genius. Focus.
Artemis glanced down to the V of his jacket. The furry head was gone.
Dropped on Little Sister. Waiting for Opal.
This was confirmed by a sudden shriek of delight from behind. Artemis turned slowly and with great effort to face his enemy. It seemed as though he had been fighting her forever.
The pixie stood atop the sea stack, almost dancing with delight. Artemis could see a small furry figure splayed on the plateau.
‘I have him,’ Opal cackled. ‘With all your genius! With your big bursting brain! You dropped him! You simply dropped him!’
Artemis felt the throb build in his shoulder. In a minute, there would be worse coming, he was certain of it.
Opal stretched two hands towards her prize.
‘He is mine,’ she said reverentially, and Artemis swore he heard thunder in the distance. ‘The ultimate magic is mine. I have the lemur.’
Artemis spoke clearly, so his words would carry across the divide.
‘It’s not a lemur,’ he said. ‘It’s a monkey.’
Opal’s smile froze, all tiny teeth, and she grabbed what she had thought was Jayjay. The figure was soft in her hands.
‘A toy!’ she gasped. ‘This is a toy.’
Artemis’s triumph was dulled by pain and exhaustion. ‘Opal, meet Professor Primate. My brother’s plaything.’
‘A toy,’ repeated Opal dully. ‘But there were two heat sources. I saw them.’
‘Microwave gel pack stuffed inside the foam,’ explained Artemis. ‘It’s over, Opal. Jayjay is in Haven by now. You can’t get him. Turn yourself in and I won’t have to hurt you.’
Opal’s features were twisted with rage.
‘Hurt me! Hurt me?’ She dashed the toy monkey against the rock surface over and over again until the dented works fell out. A metallic voice issued from the speaker.
‘History will remember this day… History will… History will remember this day.’
Opal screamed and red sparks boiled round her fingertips.
‘I cannot fly and I cannot shoot lightning, but I have enough magic to boil your brain.’
Opal’s dreams of supreme power were forgotten. At that moment all she wanted to do was kill Artemis Fowl. She stepped on to the second span with murder in her heart.
Artemis stood wearily, reaching into his pocket.
‘Your armour should save you,’ he said to Opal, his voice calm. ‘It will be terrifying, but the LEP will dig you out.’
Opal scoffed. ‘More tactics. Bluff and double bluff. Not this time, Artemis.’
‘Don’t make me do this, Opal,’ Artemis pleaded. ‘Just sit down and wait for the LEP. No one needs to get hurt.’
‘Oh, I think someone needs to get hurt,’ said Opal.
Artemis took a modified laser pointer from his pocket, activating the narrow beam and aiming it at the base of Little Sister.
‘What are you going to do with that thing? It would take a hundred years to saw through this rock.’
‘I’m not trying to saw through it,’ said Artemis, keeping the beam steady. ‘And it’s not a rock.’
Opal raised her hands, sparks laced like barbed wire round her fingers.
No more talk.
Artemis’s laser beam cut deep into the base of Little Sister, until it pierced the outer shell and reached the vast pocket of methane beneath.
Little Sister was not a rock. It was the seventh kraken, attracted by the magical resonance of Hybras. Artemis had been studying it for years. Not even Foaly knew it was there.
The explosion was huge, shooting a column of fire fifteen metres into the air. The outer shell collapsed under Opal, engulfing her in a blizzard of shrapnel.
Artemis heard the dull twang of her LEP armour flexing to take the shock.
Foaly’s armour should save her.
He threw himself flat on the sea stack, suffering the rain of rock, weed and even fish on his back and legs.
Luck will save me now. Only luck.
And luck did save him. The plateau was hammered with several sizeable missiles but none struck Artemis. He was hailed with smaller objects and would have a hundred bruises and cuts to add to his list of injuries, but not a single bone was broken.
When the world felt as though it had stopped vibrating, Artemis crawled to the lip of the sea stack and gazed down at the bubbling sea below. A pyramid of rubble steamed gently in the waves where the kraken had been. The great beast would be moving away silently now, to find another magical hotspot. Of Opal there was no sign.
The LEP will find her.
Artemis turned over on his back and watched the stars. He did this often, and the sight usually caused him to wonder how he could reach the planets orbiting those pinpricks of light, and what he would find there. On this evening, the stars just made him feel tiny and insignificant. Nature was vast and mighty and would eventually swallow him, even the memory of him. He lay there cold and alone on the plateau, waiting for a feeling of triumph that he realized would never arrive, and listening to the distant shouts of the villagers as they made their way across the long meadow.
Holly arrived before the villagers, gliding in from the north, touching down soundlessly on the sea stack.
‘You’re flying,’ said Artemis, as though he had never seen this before.
‘I borrowed a suit from Number One’s bodyguards. Well, I say borrowed …’
‘How did you find me?’ asked Artemis, though he could guess.
‘Oh, I saw a huge explosion and wondered, Now who could that be?’
‘Hmm,’ said Artemis. ‘A bit of a giveaway.’
‘Also, I followed my old suit’s radiation trail. I’m still following it.’ Holly touched a finger to her visor and the filter changed. ‘That’s quite a pile of rocks you dumped on Opal. It’s going to take a Retrieval team some time to dig her out. She’s cursing like a tunnel dwarf down there. What did you do to her?’
‘The seventh kraken,’ explained Artemis. ‘The one Foaly missed because it was tubular rather than conical, I would guess. I picked it up on a weather satellite.’
Holly placed a finger on Artemis’s forehead. ‘Typical Artemis Fowl. Beaten to a pulp and still he delivers a lecture.’
Magical sparks flowed from Holly’s fingertip, engulfing Artemis like a cocoon. He felt comforted and peaceful, like a baby in its blanket. His pains were wiped away and his shattered collarbone liquefied, then solidified whole.
‘Nice trick,’ he said, smiling, his eyes glassy.
‘I’m here till Tuesday,’ said Holly, smiling back. ‘Number One filled my tank.’
Artemis gazed up at his friend through a red haze. ‘I’m sorry I lied to you, Holly. Truly. You’ve done so much.’
Holly’s eyes were distant. ‘Maybe you made the wrong decision; maybe I would have made that decision myself. We’re from different worlds, Artemis. We will always have doubts about each other. Let’s just carry on and leave the past in the past, where it should be.’
Artemis nodded. That was as good as he was going to get, and better than he deserved.
Holly pulled a tether from her belt, looping it under Artemis’s arms. ‘Now, let’s get you home before the villagers start building a gallows.’
‘Good idea,’ mumbled Artemis, drowsy with the after-effects of his magical makeover.
‘Yes, believe it or not, other people do have those occasionally.’
‘Occasionally,’ agreed Artemis, then his head lolled back and he was asleep.
Holly reset her wings for the added weight and launched them both off the lip of the sea stack, flying low to avoid the torch beams of the locals that strobed the night sky like searchlights.
Foaly tuned into Holly’s helmet frequency while she was airborne.
‘The seventh kraken, I’m guessing. Of course I had my suspicions …’ He paused. ‘This would be a good opportunity to mind-wipe Artemis,’ he said. ‘Save ourselves a lot of grief in the future.’
‘Foaly!’ said Holly, horrified. ‘We don’t wipe our friends. Artemis brought Jayjay back to us. Who knows how many cures lie in that lemur’s brain.’
‘I’m kidding. I’m kidding. And, guess what, we won’t even have to ask Jayjay to donate some brain fluid. Number One synthesized it while he was waiting for the shuttle. That kid is one of a kind.’
‘I seem to run into a lot of those. By the way, we need to send a team in for Opal.’
‘They’re en route. I think you’re in for another rake over the coals from IA when you get back here.’
Holly snorted. ‘What’s new?’
Foaly fell silent, waiting for Holly to share the details of her adventures. Eventually he could wait no more.
‘OK, you win. I’ll ask. What happened back then – eight years ago? My gods, it must have been mayhem.’
Holly felt a phantom tingle on her lips where she had kissed Artemis.
‘Nothing. Nothing happened. We went, we got the lemur, we came back. A couple of glitches, but obviously nothing we couldn’t handle.’
Foaly didn’t press for details. Holly would tell him when she had processed it herself.
‘Do you ever think you might like to go to work and then just come home? No drama.’
Holly watched the ocean flash by below her and felt the weight of Artemis Fowl in her arms.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I never think that.’