The Time Paradox (Artemis Fowl 6)

Including my own, thought Artemis. I used magic on my mother, so therefore I probably have the disease.

“We will quarantine the manor,” responded Foaly. “So long as no one uses magic on your mother, we can contain this.”

“I seriously doubt that my mother is patient zero. That is simply too much of a coincidence. There are other cases out there, who knows how far along.”

Foaly grunted, his version of conceding a point. “So tell me, Artemis, what is this relatively simple solution?”

“I go back in time and save the lemur,” said Artemis, smiling brightly as though he had suggested a pleasant summer dip.

Silence. Complete silence for several moments, broken eventually by a strangled whinny from Foaly.

“Go back ...”

“. . . in time, ” completed Holly incredulously.

Artemis sat in a comfortable armchair, steepled his fingers, and nodded once.

“Present your arguments, please. I am ready.”

“How can you be so smug?” wondered Holly. “After all the tragedy we have seen, after all the havoc your plans have wreaked.”

“I am determined, not smug,” corrected Artemis. “There is no time for prudence here. My mother has hours left, and the Fairy People don’t have much more.”

Foaly was still gaping. “Do you have any idea how many constitution committee meetings we would have to sit through just to allow us to bring this issue to a Council meeting?”

Artemis wagged a finger dismissively. “Irrelevant. I have read the People’s constitution. It does not govern humans or demons. If No1 decides to help me, technically you have no legal power to stop him.”

Holly joined the discussion. “Artemis, this is lunacy. Time travel was outlawed for a reason. The potential repercussions for the slightest interference could be catastrophic.”

Artemis smiled mirthlessly. “Ah yes, the trusty time paradox. If I go back in time and kill my grandfather, then shall I cease to exist? I believe, as Gorben and Berndt did, that any repercussions are already being felt. We can only change the future, not the past or present. If I go back, then I have already been back.”

Holly spoke kindly; she felt sorry for Artemis. Angeline’s illness reminded her painfully of her own mother’s final days.

“We cannot interfere, Artemis. Humans must be allowed to live their lives.”

Artemis knew that to ram home his next argument he should stand and theatrically deliver the accusation, but he could not. He was about to play the cruelest trick of his life on one of his closest friends, and the guilt was almost unbearable.

“You have already interfered, Holly,” he said, forcing himself to meet her eyes.

The words made Holly shiver; she buzzed up her visor. “What do you mean?”

“You healed my mother. Healed her and damned her.”

Holly took a step back, raising her palms as though to ward off blows.

“Me? I . . . What are you saying?”

Artemis was committed to the lie now, and covered his guilt with a sudden burst of anger.

“You healed my mother after the siege. You must have given her Spelltropy.”

Foaly came to his friend’s defense. “Not possible, that healing was years ago. Spelltropy has a three-month incubation period, and it never varies by more than a few days.”

“And it never affects humans,” Artemis countered. “This is a new strain. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Holly’s face was slack with shock and guilt. She believed Artemis’s words, though Artemis himself knew that he must have given his mother the disease when he adjusted her memory.

Father must have it too. Who gave it to me? And why am I not sick?

There were so many puzzles, but now was not the time to unravel them. Now he needed to find the antidote, and to ensure fairy aid, he must play on their supposed guilt in this matter.

“But I’m clean,” protested Holly. “I was tested.”

“Then you must be a carrier,” said Artemis flatly. He turned his gaze on the centaur’s image. “That’s possible, isn’t it?”

Foaly was taken aback by Artemis’s bluntness. “If this truly is a new strain, then yes, it’s possible,” he admitted. “But you can’t draw any conclusions from supposition . . .”

“Normally I would agree. Normally I would have the luxuries of time and objectivity. But my mother is dying, and so I have neither. I must go back to save the lemur, and you are honorbound to help me, and if you won’t help, then at least you must promise not to hinder my efforts.”

The fairies were silent. Holly was lost in thought about what she might have done. Foaly was racking his considerable brain for responses to Artemis’s arguments. He found none.

Holly removed her helmet and walked awkwardly to Angeline Fowl’s bedside. Her legs felt strangely numb and the feeling was spreading.

“My mother died—poisoned by humans. It was an accident, but that didn’t keep her alive.” Tears dripped from her eyes. “I wanted to hunt those men down. I hated them.” Holly wrung her hands. “I’m sorry, Artemis. I didn’t know. How many others have I infected? You must hate me.”

Take it back, thought Artemis. Tell the truth now or your friendship can never be the same. Then, No. Be strong. Mother must live.

“I don’t hate you, Holly,” said Artemis softly. I hate myself, but the deception must continue. “Of course none of this is your fault, but you must let me go back.”

Holly nodded, then wiped her brimming eyes. “I will do more than let you go, I will escort you. A sharp pair of eyes and a quick gun hand will prove useful.”

“No, no, no,” shouted Foaly, increasing the screen’s volume with each negative. “We can’t simply alter the past whenever we feel like it. Perhaps Holly should save her mother, or bring Commander Julius Root back from the dead! This is totally unacceptable.”

Artemis pointed a finger at him. “This is a unique situation,” he said. “You have a plague about to erupt, and we can stop it here. Not only that, but you can reintroduce a species that was thought to be extinct. I may have caused one lemur to die, but Opal Koboi gathered the rest together for the lightning fire. The People are as guilty as I am. You harvested a living creature’s brain fluid to save yourselves.”

“We . . . we were desperate,” argued Foaly, horrified that he would actually stutter.

“Exactly,” said Artemis triumphantly. “You were willing to do anything. Remember how that felt, and ask yourself if you want to go through it again.”

Foaly dropped his gaze, thinking back. That time had been a waking nightmare for the fairies. The use of magic had been suspended, and the lemurs were already extinct by the time a court order forced Opal to reveal the source of her antidote. He had worked sleeplessly to develop an alternative cure, but without success.

“We thought we were invincible. The only disease left was man.” The centaur made up his mind. “The lemur must be alive,” he stated. “The brain fluid can be stored for brief periods, but once it becomes inert, the fluid is useless. I was developing a charged container but . . .”

“This time you will succeed,” Artemis assured him. “You will have a live subject and laboratory conditions. You can clone a female.”

“Cloning is illegal, generally,” mused Foaly. “But in extinction cases, exceptions have been made. . . .”

Holly’s helmet beeped, drawing her attention to a craft landing in the driveway. She hurried to the window in time to see a slight shimmer cast a shadow on the moonlit driveway.

It must be a rookie pilot, thought Holly crossly. He hasn’t activated his shadow lights.

“The shuttle’s here,” she informed Artemis.

“Tell the pilot to park around the back, in one of the stables. The doctor’s assist

ant is making calls from my father’s office. I don’t want her going for a walk and bumping into a shielded fairy craft.”

Holly relayed the instructions, and they waited tensely for the shuttle to maneuver to the back of the house. It seemed like a long wait, silent but for the rasp of Angeline’s labored breathing.

“No1 might not be able to do it,” said Foaly almost to himself. “He is a young warlock, with barely any training. Time travel is the most difficult of magics.”

Artemis did not offer a comment. There was no point. All his hopes rested on No1.

He does it, or Mother dies.

He took Angeline’s hand, stroking the rough parchment skin with his thumb.

“Hold on, Mother,” he whispered. “I will only be a second.”

CHAPTER 5

I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU

The little demon known as No1 cut a strange figure waddling down the LEP shuttle’s gangplank. A small, stocky individual with gray armored plates and short limbs, he looked a little like a miniature upright rhino-ceros with fingers and toes, except for the head. The head was pure gargoyle.

I wish I had a tail, thought No1.

In actual fact he did have a tail, but it was stubby and not good for much except making snow fans in Haven City’s artificial weather park.

No1 consoled himself with the observation that at least his tail didn’t dangle down into the toilet. Some of the Hybras demons had trouble adjusting to the new-fangled seats on the recycling lounges in Haven. He had heard horror stories. Apparently there had been three emergency reattachments this month alone.

The transition from Limbo to normal time had been difficult for all demons, but there were many more positives than negatives. Restrictions imposed under the old tribal leader were now being lifted. Demons could eat cooked food if they felt like it. Family units were taking hold again. Even the most belligerent demons were a lot more relaxed with their mothers around. But it was difficult to shake off ten millennia of human-hating, and many of the buck demons were undergoing therapy or were on mood pills to stop them hopping a shuttle to the surface and chomping on the first human limb they saw.