The Time Paradox (Artemis Fowl 6)

Artemis fumbled the Webcam and it rolled under the bed.

“Hellfire,” he swore, kneeling to reach an arm into the dark space. “I can’t . . . I just can’t . . .”

And suddenly the enormity of the situation struck him hard.

“What kind of son am I?” he whispered. “A liar and a thief. All my mother has ever done was love me and try to protect me, and now she may die.”

Holly helped Artemis to his feet.“You’re not that person anymore, Artemis, and you love your mother, don’t you?”

Artemis huffed, embarrassed. “Yes. Of course.”

“Then you are a good son. And your mother will see that as soon as I cure her.”

Holly clicked her neck, and magical sparks leaped from her fingertips, spinning in an inverted cone.

“No,” blurted Artemis. “Wouldn’t it be wise to check the symptoms first?”

Holly closed her fist, smothering the sparks. Suspicious.

She took off her helmet and stepped close to Artemis, closer than he liked people to be, staring hard into his mismatched eyes. It was strange to see her own eye looking back at her.

“Have you done something, Artemis?”

Artemis met her gaze steadily. It seemed that there was nothing in his eyes but sadness.

“No. I am more cautious with my mother than I would be with myself, that is all.”

Holly’s suspicion was born of years of experience with Artemis, and so she wondered why he would be reluctant to allow her to use magic now, when it had never bothered him before. Perhaps he had already tried this route himself. Perhaps the time stream had not stripped him of his stolen magic, as he had claimed.

She clamped her hands to the side of Artemis’s head, then laid her forehead against his.

“Stop this, Holly,” objected Artemis. “We have no time.”

Holly did not answer, closing her eyes, concentrating. Artemis felt heat spread across his skull and the familiar buzz of magic. Holly was probing him. It lasted barely a second.

“Nothing,” she said, releasing him. “Echoes of magic. But no power.”

Artemis stumbled backward, dizzy.

“I understand your suspicion, Holly. I have earned it repeatedly. Now, would you please examine my mother.”

Holly realized that up to this point she had avoided doing anything more than take a cursory glance at Angeline Fowl. This entire situation brought back too many painful memories.

“Of course, Artemis. I’m sorry about the probe. I had to be sure that I could take all of this on face value.”

“My feelings are not important,” said Artemis, leading Holly by the elbow. “Now, my mother. Please.”

Holly had to force herself to properly examine Angeline Fowl, and the moment she did, a deep-rooted dread sent pins and needles fluttering up and down her limbs.

“I know this,” she whispered. “I know it.”

“This condition is familiar to you?” asked Artemis.

His mother’s face and arms were coated with a clear gel, which oozed from her pores and then steamed away. Angeline’s eyes were wide, but only the whites were visible, and her fingers clutched the sheets as though hanging on to life.

Holly took a medi-kit from her belt, placed it on the bedside table, and used a swab to take a sample of the gel. “This gel. That smell. It can’t be. It can’t.”

“It can’t be what?” asked Artemis, his fingers tight on her forearm.

Holly ignored him, slipping her helmet on and opening a channel to Police Plaza.

“Foaly? Are you there?”

The centaur responded on the second buzz. “Right here, Holly. Chained to the desk. Commander Kelp has sent me a couple of mails asking where you are. I fobbed him off with the Ritual story. I reckon you have about—”

Holly interrupted his chatter. “Foaly, listen to me.

Artemis’s mother. I think we have something . . . I think it’s bad.”

The centaur’s mood changed instantly. Holly suspected that he had been waffling to hide his anxiety. After all, Artemis’s message had been very grim.

“Okay. I’ll sync with the manor systems. Ask Artemis for his password.”

Holly lifted her visor to look Artemis in the eye. “Foaly wants your security password.”

“Of course, of course.”Artemis was drifting, and it took him a moment to remember his own secret word. “It’s CENTAUR. All caps.”

Below the earth’s crust, Foaly stored the compliment in the corner of his brain that held treasured memories. He would take that one out later and gloat over a glass of sim-wine.

“Centaur. Right. I’m in.”

A large plasma television on the wall flickered on, and Foaly’s face appeared, first in blurred bubbles, then sharp focus. The Webcam in Artemis’s hand whirred as the centaur remotely fiddled with its focus motor.

“The more points of view the better, eh?” he said, his voice pulsing from the television speakers in surround sound.

Artemis held the camera before his mother’s face, his arm as still as possible.

“I take it, from Holly’s reaction, that this condition is familiar to you?”

Holly pointed to the sheen covering Angeline’s face. “See the gel, Foaly, from the pores. And the smell of lilies too—there can’t be any doubt.”

“It’s impossible,” muttered the centaur. “We eradicated this years ago.”

Artemis was growing weary of these vague references.

“What is impossible? Eradicated what?”

“No diagnosis just yet, Artemis; it would be premature. Holly, I need to run a scan.”

Holly positioned the palm of her hand over Angeline Fowl’s forehead, and the omnisensor in her glove bathed Artemis’s mother with a matrix of lasers.

Foaly’s finger swished like a metronome as the information was fed to his system. It was an unconscious movement that seemed too jolly for the situation.

“Okay,” he said after half a minute. “I have what I need.”

Holly closed her fist on the sensor, then stood with Artemis, clasping his hand in hers, silently awaiting the results. It did not take long, especially when Foaly had a good idea of his search parameters.

His face was grim as he read the results. “The computer has analyzed the gel. I am afraid it’s Spelltropy.”

Artemis noticed Holly’s grip tightening. Whatever this Spelltropy was, it was bad.

He broke free from Holly, striding to the wall-mounted television. “I need an explanation, Foaly. Now, please.”

Foaly sighed, then nodded. “Very well, Artemis.

Spelltropy was a plague among the Fairy People. Once contracted it was invariably fatal, and progressed to terminal stages in three months. From that point the patient has less than a week. This disease has everything: Neurotoxins, cell destruction, resistance to all conventional therapies, incredibly aggressive. It’s amazing, really.”

Artemis’s teeth were clenched. “That’s fabulous, Foaly. At last, something even you can admire.”

Foaly wiped a bead of sweat from his nose, pausing before he spoke.“There is no cure, Artemis. Not anymore. I’m afraid your mother is dying. Judging by the concentration in the gel, I would say she has twenty-four hours, thirty-six if she fights. If it’s any consolation, she won’t suffer at the end.”

Holly crossed the room, reaching up to grasp Artemis’s shoulder, noticing how tall her human friend was becoming.

“Artemis, there are things we can do to make her comfortable.”

Artemis shrugged her off, almost violently. “No. I can achieve wonders. I have talents. Information is my weapon.” He returned his attention to the screen. “Foaly, forgive my outburst. I am myself now. You said that this Spelltropy was a plague—where did it begin?”

“Magic,” said Foaly simply, then elaborated. “Magic is fueled by the earth, and when the earth could no longer absorb the sheer bulk of pollutants, the magic became tainted also. Spelltropy first appeared about twen

ty years ago in Linfen, China.”

Artemis nodded. It made sense. Linfen was infamous for its high pollution levels. As the center of China’s coal industry, the city’s air was laden with fly ash, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, volatile organic compounds, arsenic, and lead. There was a joke among Chinese employers: If you hold a grudge against an employee, send him to work in Linfen.

“It is passed on through magic, and thus is completely impervious to magic. In ten years it had almost decimated the fairy population. We lost twenty-five percent of our numbers. Atlantis was worst hit.”