The Time Paradox (Artemis Fowl 6)

The gorilla attacked, grabbing a surprised Artemis Fowl by the shoulders, roaring in his face, head back, teeth like a bear trap.

Holly was at the gate, powering down, pulling the omnitool from her pocket, jabbing the business end into the lock. She surveyed the scene inside the cage while she waited for the tool to work.

Mulch was up and on his elbows now, shaking a groggy head. It would be a moment or two before he was in any shape to help, if he deigned to help a human stranger.

Anyway, it was immaterial; a moment or two would be too late for Artemis.

The omnitool beeped and the cage door swung open, a narrow walkway extended from the footpath crossing a moat and slotting into grooves on the habitat floor.

Holly charged across without hesitation, waving her arms, shouting, making herself a target.

The gorilla huffed and snorted, gathering Artemis close to its chest, warning Holly to stay back. Artemis’s head flopped on his shoulders, and his eyes were half closed.

Holly stopped ten feet from the animal and lowered her arms and gaze. A nonthreatening stance.

The gorilla made a few fake attacks, thundering to within a foot of Holly then contemptuously turning his back, all the while grunting and barking, pressing Artemis to his chest. Artemis’s hair was slicked back with blood, and a crimson trickle leaked from the corner of his left eye. One arm was broken, and blood pouched the sleeve of his tracksuit.

Holly was shocked. Appalled. She felt like crying and running away. Her friend was injured, possibly dead.

Get a grip! she told herself. You are older than you look.

One of the fairy magical powers was the gift of tongues, and this encompassed a rudimentary grasp of some of the more sophisticated animal tongues. She would never be discussing global warming with a dolphin, but she knew enough for basic communication.

With gorillas it was as much about body language as what was actually said. Holly squatted low, elbows crooked, knuckles on the earth, spine curved forward— the posture of a friend—then she funneled her lips and hooted several times. Danger! the hoots said. Danger is near!

The gorilla did a comical double take, amazed to hear gorilla-speak coming from this creature. It sensed a trick but was not sure what that trick might be. And when in doubt, beat your chest.

The gorilla dropped Artemis, stood tall on two feet, thrusting forward chin and pectorals, and began beating its chest with open palms.

I am king here. Do not trifle with me, was the clear message.

A wise sentiment indeed, but Holly had no choice.

She darted forward, hooting all the time, throwing in the odd terrified screech, and then, against the advice of every wildlife expert who had ever held a steadi-cam, she looked directly into the animal’s eyes.

Leopard, she hooted, layering her voice with the fairy mesmer. Leopard!

The gorilla’s fury was replaced by dull confusion, which was in turn pushed aside by terror.

Leopard! Holly hooted. Climb!

Moving with less than its customary grace, the gorilla stumbled toward the rear of the cage, moving as though underwater, senses dulled by the mesmer. Trees and foliage were batted aside, leaving a wake of sap-crowned trunks and flattened grass. In moments the animal had disappeared deep into the dark recesses of its artificial habitat.

Fearful gibberings floated from the upper canopy.

Holly would feel bad later for putting the beast under a spell, but now there was not a heartbeat to waste on guilt. Artemis was grievously injured, perhaps mortally so.

The gorilla had dropped Artemis like a carcass that had been picked clean. He lay there, still as the dead.

No. Don’t think that.

Holly raced to her friend’s side, skidding the final yard on her knees.

Too far gone. He’s too far gone.

Artemis’s face was pale as bone. His long black hair was matted with blood, and the whites of his eyes were twin crescents through hooded lids.

“Mother,” he said, the word riding on a breath.

Holly reached out her hands, magic already dancing on her fingertips, shooting off in arcs like tiny sun flares.

She froze before the magic could make the jump to Artemis’s body.

If I heal Artemis will I also damn him? Is my magic tainted with Spelltropy?

Artemis thrashed weakly, and Holly could actually hear bones grating in his sleeve. There was blood on his lips too.

He will die if I don’t help. At least if I heal him, there is a chance.

Holly’s hands were shaking, and her eyes were blurred with tears.

Pull yourself together. You are a professional.

She didn’t feel very professional. She felt like a girl out of her depth.

Your body is playing tricks on your mind. Ignore it.

Holly cupped Artemis’s face gently in both hands.

“Heal,” she whispered, almost sobbing.

The magical sparks leaped like dogs unleashed, sinking into Artemis’s pores, knitting bones, healing skin, staunching internal bleeding.

The sudden transition from death’s door to hale and hearty was rough on Artemis. He shuddered and bucked, teeth chattering, hair frizzing in an electric halo.

“Come on, Artemis,” said Holly, bending over him like a mourner. “Wake up.”

There was no reaction for several seconds. Artemis looked like a healthy corpse, but then that was how he usually looked. Then his mismatched eyes opened, lids flickering like hummingbird wings as his system rebooted. He coughed and shuddered, flexing fingers and toes.

“Holly,” he said when his vision had cleared. His smile was sincere and grateful. “You saved me again.”

Holly was laughing and crying at the same time, tears spilling onto Artemis’s chest.

“Of course I saved you,” she said. “I couldn’t do without you.” And because she was happy and flushed with magic, Holly leaned down and kissed Artemis, magic sparking around the contact like tiny fireworks.

* * *

Ten-year-old Artemis Fowl was keeping one eye on the drama unfolding in the gorilla cage.

“Troglodytes gorilla,” he commented to Butler. “Given the name by Dr. Thomas S. Savage, an American missionary to western Africa, who first scientifically described the gorilla in 1847.”

“You don’t say,” murmured the bodyguard, who was more interested in the brute’s bite radius than its proper name.

They had used the commotion as cover to slip out from the artificial hide and across the small courtyard to the lemur’s cage, which was beside the gorilla’s.

The strange newcomers were far too busy to notice them swipe the cage’s key-card lock and open the gate door.

“Look at those two. Wasting time. You wouldn’t catch me doing that.”

Butler snorted, as he usually did immediately before delivering a deadpan line. “Most people never catch you doing anything, Artemis.”

Artemis

allowed himself a chuckle. This was an interesting day, and he was enjoying the challenges that it presented.

“And there we are,” said Artemis quietly. “The last silky sifaka lemur in the world. The hundred-thousand-euro primate.”

The lemur was perched high in a Madagascar palm, clinging to the branches with its long grasping toes and opposable thumb digits. Its coat was snow white with a brown patch on the chest.

Artemis pointed at the animal. “That coloring results from chest scent-marking with the sternal-gular gland.”

“Uh-huh,” said Butler, who cared slightly less about this than he did about the gorilla’s scientific name. “Let’s just grab the animal and get out of here before our friends next door regroup.”

“I think we have a moment or two,” said Artemis.

Butler studied the strangers in the adjacent cage. It was surprising that the male was not in pieces by now, but somehow the female had appeared from nowhere and chased the gorilla off. Impressive. That one had a few tricks up her sleeve. There was serious technology behind her. Perhaps some kind of camouflage software in the clothing, which would explain the sparks. The Americans, he knew, were developing an all-terrain camouflage suit. One of his military contacts had sent him a link to a leaked video on the Internet.

There was another creature in the cage, the hairy individual who had released the first two from the Bentley, picking what was supposed to be an unpickable lock in the process. The creature was neither man nor beast, a rough stumpy character who had been propelled through the earth by some force, and was now suffering from a debilitating attack of gas. Somehow, this thing had managed to dig a thirty-yard tunnel in a matter of minutes. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the cages were modular with overlapping walls, then the creature would have been in the same cage as the lemur. As it was, while it emerged directly below the lemur, it was one cage over.

Butler knew that Artemis would be just itching to study these strange creatures, but now was not the time. They were in a position of total ignorance, and people in that position often died without being enlightened.

The bodyguard drew his dart pistol, but Artemis recognized the sound of a gun sliding from a holster and waved his index finger.