The Time Paradox Page 7

  Not No1, though, who had no limb-chomping ambitions whatsoever. He was something of an anomaly among demons. No1 loved everyone, even humans, especially Artemis Fowl, who had saved them all from the deathly dreariness of Limbo, not to mention Leon Abbot, the psychopathic ex–tribe leader.

  So when the call came through to Section 8 that Artemis needed him, No1 had strapped himself into the division’s shuttle and demanded to be taken aboveground. Commander Vinyáya had agreed because disagreeing could lead to all sorts of magical tantrums from the fledgling warlock. Once, in a fit of frustration, he had accidentally shattered the magnifying wall of the city’s huge aquarium. Fairies were still finding minnows in their toilet ponds.

  You can go, Vinyáya had told him. But only if you take a squad of guards to hold your hand every step of the way.

  Which did not literally mean hold his hand, as No1 had found out when he tried to link with the captain of the guard.

  “But, Commander Vinyáya said,” he had objected.

  “Stow the hand, demon,” ordered the captain. “There’ll be no hand-holding on my watch.”

  And so No1 appeared to approach Fowl Manor alone, though he was flanked by a dozen shielded fairies. Halfway up the avenue he remembered to shroud his real appearance with a shape-shifting spell. Any human who happened to be looking down the driveway would now see a small boy in flowing, flowered robes strolling toward the front door. This was an image No1 had seen in a human movie from the last century, and he thought it was appropriately nonthreatening.

  Miss Book happened to appear at the doorway just as No1 reached it. The sight of him stopped the nurse-publicist in her tracks. She tugged off her glasses as though they were feeding false information to her eyes.

  “Hello there, little boy,” she said, smiling, though she probably would not have been so jolly had she been aware of the twelve plasma rifles pointed at her head.

  “Hi,” said No1 cheerily. “I love everyone, so no need to feel threatened.”

  Miss Book’s smile faltered. “Threatened? Of course not. Are you looking for someone? Are you playing dress-up?”

  Artemis appeared at the doorway, interrupting the conversation.

  “Ah . . . Ferdinand, where have you been?” he said, quickly shepherding No1 past the nurse. “This is the gardener’s boy, Ferdinand,” he explained. “A dramatic type. I’ll summon his father to collect him.”

  “Good idea,” said Miss Book doubtfully. “I know your mother’s room is sealed, but don’t let him upstairs all the same.”

  “Of course not,” said Artemis. “I’ll send him out the back way.”

  “Good,” said the nurse. “I just need a breath of fresh air, then I will come to check on your mother.”

  “Take your time,” said Artemis. “I can read the instruments.”

  I designed a few of them, he thought.

  As soon as Miss Book disappeared around the corner, Artemis escorted his demon friend up the stairs.

  “We’re going upstairs,” objected No1 mildly. “Didn’t that young lady tell you not to allow me upstairs?”

  Artemis sighed. “How long have you known me, No1?”

  No1 nodded craftily.“Ah, I see. Artemis Fowl never does what he is told to do.”

  Holly greeted No1 on the landing, but refused to hug him until he dropped the shape-shifting spell.

  “I hate the feel of those things,” she said. “It’s like hugging a wet sponge.”

  No1 pouted. “But I enjoy being Ferdinand. Humans smile at me.”

  Artemis assured him that there was no surveillance in his study, and so the demon warlock waited until the door was closed behind them, then banished the spell with a click of his fingers. Ferdinand unraveled and fell from No1’s body in a flurry of sparks, leaving the small gray demon warlock wearing nothing but a wide grin.

  Holly hugged him tightly.“I knew you would come. We need you desperately.”

  No1 stopped smiling. “Ah, yes. Artemis’s mother. Does she want a magical cure?”

  “That’s the last thing she wants,” said Holly.

  Once the situation was explained to No1, he immediately agreed to help.

  “You are in luck, Artemis,” said the little demon, wiggling his eight fingers. “I did a module on time travel last week for the warlock diploma course I’m taking.”

  “Small class, I bet,” commented Artemis dryly.

  “Just me,” admitted No1. “And Qwan, of course, my teacher. Apparently I am the most powerful warlock Qwan has ever seen.”

  “Good,” said Artemis. “Then transporting us all into the past shouldn’t pose any problems for you.”

  Foaly had projected himself onto five of Artemis’s various monitors. “All?” spluttered each image. “All! You can’t take No1 with you.”

  Artemis was not in the mood for argument. “I need him, Foaly. End of discussion.”

  Foaly looked as though his head would bulge through the screens. “It is most certainly not end of discussion. Holly is an adult, she can make her own decision, but No1 is little more than a child. You cannot jeopardize him on one of your missions. A lot of hopes rest on that little demon. The future of the fairy families.”

  “None of us will have a future if No1 doesn’t bring us to the past.”

  “Please stop,” said No1. “All this arguing is making me dizzy. There is no time for it.”

  Artemis’s face was red, but he held his tongue, unlike Foaly, who kept shouting, but at least he muted the screens.

  “Foaly needs to vent,” explained Holly. “Or he gets headaches.”

  The three waited until the centaur calmed himself, then No1 spoke. “In any event, I cannot go with you, Artemis. That’s not how it works.”

  “But you transported us from Limbo.”

  “Qwan did that. He is a master, I am but an apprentice. And anyway, we had no desire to go back to Limbo. If you wish to return here, I need to stay as a marker.”

  “Explain,” said Artemis tersely.

  No1 spread his arms wide. “I am a beacon,” he declared. “A shining supernova of power. Any magic I release into the ether will be attracted back to me. I send you into the past, and you will snap back to me like puppies on a leash.” No1 frowned, not happy with his simile. “One of those retractable leashes.”

  “Yes, we get it,” said Artemis. “How long will it take to weave the spell?”

  No1 chewed his lip for a moment. “About as long as it takes you two to remove your clothing.”

  “Hurkk,” said Artemis half-choking with surprise.

  “D’Arvit,” swore Holly.

  “I think we all know what D’Arvit means,” said No1. “But hurkk is not English. Unless you meant hark, which means to remember something from the past. Which I suppose could be relevant. Or perhaps you were speaking Dutch, and then hurk would translate as squat.” No1 paused for a wink. “Which means squat to me.”

  Artemis leaned close to the demon’s cornet-shaped ear. “Why do we need to take our clothes off?”

  “That is a very good question,” said Holly into the other ear.

  “It’s quite simple,” said No1. “I am not so skilled as Qwan. And even with Qwan overseeing the last transfer, you two managed to switch an eye each, which was probably because someone was focusing on stealing magic. If you take clothes or guns in there, they could become a part of you.” The demon raised a stiff finger. “Lesson number one of time transfers,” he stated. “Keep it simple.

  It’s going to take all of your concentration just to reassemble your bodies. And you will be thinking for the lemur too.”

  No1 noticed both Artemis’s and Holly’s awkward expressions and took pity on them.

  “I suppose you could keep one thing, if you must. A small garment, but make sure it’s your color, because you could be wearing it for a really long time.”

  Though they both knew that this was no time for modesty, neither Artemis nor Holly could suppress a blush. Holly covered her embarrassment by te
aring off her Shimmer Suit as quickly as possible.

  “I’m keeping the one-piece,” she said belligerently, daring No1 to argue. The one-piece looked similar to a swimsuit but was padded on the shoulders and back to support a wing rig. There were also heat and kinetic panels that could absorb energy from the wearer to power the suit.

  “Okay,” said No1. “But I would advise you to remove the pads and any other electronics.”

  Holly nodded, tearing the pads from their Velcro strips.

  Artemis gathered Holly’s things. “I will put your helmet and suit in the safe, just to be certain they are secure. No need to take chances with the People’s technology.”

  “Now you’re thinking like a centaur,” Foaly piped up.

  It took only a minute to hide the fairy gear, and when he returned from the safe room, Artemis took off his shirt and trousers carefully, hanging them in his wardrobe. He placed his loafers on a shoe rack alongside several similar black pairs, and one brown, for casual days.

  “Nice underwear,” snickered Foaly from the screen, momentarily forgetting the gravity of the situation.

  Artemis was wearing a pair of red Armani boxer shorts, which were pretty much the same color as his face.

  “Can we get on with it?” he snapped. “Where do you need us to stand?”

  “Wherever you need to be,” replied No1 simply. “It’s far easier for me if you take off and land at the same point. It’s hard enough shooting you down a wormhole faster than the speed of light without worrying about location too.”

  “We are in the right location,” said Artemis. “This is where we need to be.”

  “You need to know when you want to arrive,” added No1. “The temporal coordinates are as important as the geographical ones.”

  “I know when.”

  “Very well,” said No1, rubbing his hands together. “Time to send you on your way.”

  Holly remembered something. “I haven’t completed the Ritual,” she said. “I’m low on magic, and without weapons, that could be a problem. We don’t have an acorn.”

  “Not to mention a bend in the river,” added Artemis.

  No1 smirked. “Those things could be problems. Unless . ..”

  A spiral rune on the demon’s forehead glowed red and spun like a Catherine wheel. It was hypnotizing.

  “Wow,” said Holly. “That’s really . . .”

  Then a pulsing beam of crimson magic blasted from the center of the rune, enveloping Holly in a cocoon of light.

  “Now you’re full to the brim,” said No1, bowing low. “Thank you very much. I’m here all week. Don’t forget to tip your goblins and bury those acorns.”

  “Wow,” said Holly again when her fingertips stopped buzzing. “That’s a neat trick.”

  “More than you know. That’s my own signature magic. The No1 cocktail, if you like, which makes you a beacon in the time stream.”

  Artemis shuffled self-consciously. “How long do we have?”

  No1 gazed at the ceiling while he ran some calculations. “Three hundred years . . . No, no, three days. Holly can bring you back at any point before that simply by making herself open to my power, but after three days the link grows weaker.”

  “Is there anything we can do about that?”

  “Let’s face facts: all-powerful I may be, but I’m a novice at this, so taking off from where you landed is vital. If you go beyond three days, then you are stuck in the past.”

  “If we do get separated, couldn’t Holly come back and get me?” wondered Artemis.

  “No, she could not,” said No1. “It would be impossible for you to meet at a point neither of you had experienced. This is a one-time deal only. It will take everything I have to hold you together for this trip. Any more and your atoms would lose their memory and simply forget where it is they are supposed to go. Both of you have already been in the time stream twice. I can transport objects forever and a day, but living beings break down without a warlock in the stream to shield them.”

  Holly asked a very pertinent question. “No1, have you done this before?”

  “Of course,” said the demon. “Several times. On a simulator. And two of the holograms survived.”

  Artemis’s determination barely flickered. “Two survived. The last two?”

  “No,” admitted No1. “The last two were trapped in a time wormhole and consumed by quantum zombies.”

  Holly felt her pointy ears tingle, always a bad sign. Elfin ears could sense danger.

  “Quantum zombies? You’re not serious.”

  “That’s what I said to Qwan. He wrote the program.”

  “This is irrelevant,” said Artemis sharply. “We have no option but to go.”

  “Very well,” said No1, flexing his fingers. He bent his knees and rested his entire body weight on the tip of his tail.

  “Power posture,” he explained. “I do some of my best work in this position.”

  “So does Mulch Diggums,” muttered Foaly. “Quantum zombies. I need to get a copy of that program.”

  A red haze blossomed around the demon warlock, tiny lightning bolts crackling across his horns.

  “He’s powering up,” said Foaly from the screens. “You’ll be off any second. Remember, try not to touch anything you don’t have to. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t contact me in the past. I have no desire not to exist.”

  Artemis nodded. “I know. Make as little impact as possible, in case the time paradox theory has some merit.”

  Holly was impatient to get going. “Enough science. Just blast us into the past. We’ll bring the monkey back.”

  “Lemur,” said Artemis and Foaly together.

  No1 closed his eyes. When he opened them again they were pure crimson.

  “Okay, ready to go,” he said conversationally.

  Artemis blinked. He was expecting No1’s voice of power to be a bit less squeaky. “Are you sure?”

  No1 groaned. “I know. It’s the voice, isn’t it. Not enough gravel. Qwan says I should go for less airy and more fairy. Trust me, I’m ready. Now hold hands.”

  Artemis and Holly stood there in their underwear, gingerly locking fingers. They had crossed space and time together, weathered rebellions, and tangled with demented despots. Coughed blood, lost digits, inhaled dwarf fumes, and swapped eyeballs, yet they found holding hands awkward.

  No1 knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist a parting crack.

  “I now pronounce you . . .”

  Neither hand-holder was amused, but before they had time to do more than scowl, twin bolts of red energy crackled from No1’s eyes, blasting his friends into the time stream.

  “Man and elf,” he said, finishing his joke, then chuckling delightedly.

  On screen, Foaly snorted. “I’m guessing you’re laughing to cover your anxiety?”

  “Exactly right,” said No1.

  Where Artemis and Holly had been standing, there were flickering copies of them both, mouths open to object to No1’s comment.

  “That really freaks me out, the ghost images. It’s like they’re dead.”

  Foaly shuddered. “Don’t say that. If they’re dead, we all could be. How soon will they be back?”

  “In about ten seconds.”

  “And if they’re not back in ten seconds?”

  “Then never.”

  Foaly started counting.

  CHAPTER 6

  I TO I

  There is a moment of confusion when a land animal enters the water. Beast, human, or fairy, it doesn’t matter. The surface is broken and every sense is suddenly shocked. The cold stings, motion slows, and the eyes are filled with smears of color and the snap of bursting bubbles. The time stream is like that moment sustained.

  That’s not to say that traveling through the time stream is a consistent experience. Never the same journey twice. The demon warlock Qwan, who was the planet’s most experienced time-traveling fairy, wrote in his best-selling autobiography, Qwan: My Time Is Now, that riding the time stream is
like flying through a dwarf’s intestine. There are very nice free-flowing stretches, but then you turn a corner to find the thing backed up and putrid. The problem being that the time stream is largely an emotional construct, and it absorbs ambient feelings from the real time it flows around. If you happen across a stretch of foul-smelling gunk, you can bet that the humans are killing something.

  Artemis and Holly were being dragged through a foul-smelling stretch that corresponded with an entire ecosystem being destroyed in South America. They could sense the animals’ terror and even smell the charred wood.

  Artemis felt too that Holly was losing herself in the maelstrom of emotions. Fairies were so much more sensitive to their environments than humans. If Holly lost concentration, her atoms would dissipate and be absorbed by the stream.

  Focus, Holly, Artemis broadcast into the stream. Remember who you are and why we are here.

  It was difficult for them both. Their particle memory had already been weakened by the Limbo journeys, and the temptation to meld with the stream was strong.

  Artemis conjured a picture of his mother in his consciousness to bolster his determination.

  I know when and where I want to be, he thought. Exactly when and where . . .

  Fowl Manor, Almost Eight Years Ago

  Artemis and Holly exited the time stream and entered ten-year-old Artemis’s study. Physically this was a gentle enough experience, like jumping from a low wall onto thick carpet, but emotionally this particular trip was like a ten-minute blitz of the worst memories of their lives. The time stream: never the same ride twice.

  Holly cried for her mother for a minute, but eventually the persistent chiming of a grandfather clock reminded her of where and when she was. She stood shakily and looked around her to find Artemis lurching toward the wardrobe. The sight of him cheered her a little.

  “You have really let yourself go,” she said.

  Artemis was rummaging through the clothes on the rail.

  “Of course nothing will fit,” he muttered. “All too small.”

  Holly elbowed past him. “Not for me,” she said, pulling a dark suit from its hanger.