The Time Paradox (Artemis Fowl 6)

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 earthward, locked together. A sparrow on an eagle’s back. Opal smashed her armored head through the door window’s Plexiglas, 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 around her head like angry wasps. Her wing smashed into the Cessna’s, and neither survived intact. Solar cell splinters flashed like stardust, and Opal’s tail feathers helicoptered slowly earthward. The airplane 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 judgment 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 judgment may give me the advantage I need.

Artemis leveled the craft as much as he could, slowing his descent. Wind slapped his face, tugging his skin. Shielding his eyes with a forearm, Artemis peered downward through the blur of propeller spin.

Hook Head peninsula jutted into the blackness of the sea below him like a slate-gray 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 that 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 he 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 license 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 onto its nose, propeller plowing furrows in the earth. Sheaves of grass fanned the air, and clods of muck rained through the holes in the windshield.

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 toward 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 over the furry head poking from the front of his jacket.

“Almost there,” he panted.

A pair of sea stacks jutted from the water like the last teeth from the gums of a tobacco chewer. Hundred-foot-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 onto 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 toward 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 zombielike across the meadow, a red haze of magic lighting her face inside the helmet, fists clenched 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 me, would they?

“Fowl!” the shriek came from behind him. Closer than he expected. “Give me the monkey!”

The voice was layered with wasted magi

c. No eye contact. No mesmer.

Monkey, thought Artemis, smirking. Ha-ha.

Farther across the chasm. Blackness above and below, starpoints in the sky and sea. Waves growling like tigers. Hungry.

Artemis stumbled toward the first Nun, Little Sister. Stepping out onto a rock plateau worn treacherous. His foot slipped on the surface, and Artemis 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 onto 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 the 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 a throb build in his shoulder. In a minute, there would be worse coming, he was certain of it.

Opal stretched two hands toward 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.”