Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl - the time paradox

He followed the live feed. Watching Furty scoop aside the rock, weed and shell fragments covering Holly’s suit. Except there was no suit. Just a helmet with its flashing tracer beacon.

‘I come all this way for a helmet?’ said Furty, aggrieved. ‘Ain’t no pixie here, just the smell of one.’

Trouble sat up straight. ‘Are you sure? Could you be in the wrong spot?’

Furty snorted. ‘Yep. I’m at the other buried LEP helmet. Course I’m sure.’

She was gone. Opal had disappeared.

‘Impossible. How could she escape?’

‘Beats me,’ said Furty. ‘Maybe she squeezed through a natural tunnel. Them pixies are slippery little creatures. I remember one time when I was a sprog. Me and Kherb, my cousin, broke into a-’

Trouble cut him off. This was serious. Opal Koboi was loose in the world. He put a video call in to Foaly in Police Plaza.

‘Don’t tell me,’ said the centaur, running a hand down his long face.

‘She’s gone. She left the helmet so the beacon would draw us in. Any vitals from her suit?’

Foaly checked his monitor. ‘Nothing. It was loud and clear until five minutes ago. I thought it was a suit malfunction.’

Trouble took a breath. ‘Put out an alert. Priority one. I want the guard tripled on our Koboi in Atlantis. It would be just like Opal to bust herself out.’

Foaly got to it. One Opal Koboi had almost managed to take over the world. Two would probably shoot for the entire galaxy.

‘And call Holly,’ continued Commander Kelp. ‘Inform the captain that her weekend leave is cancelled.’

Artemis Fowl awoke in his own bed, and for a moment red sparks danced before his eyes. They sparkled and twinkled hypnotically before chasing their own tails out of existence.

Red sparks, he thought. Unusual. I have seen stars before, but never sparks.

The ten-year-old boy stretched, grabbing handfuls of his own duvet. For some reason he felt more content than usual.

I feel safe and happy.

Artemis sat bolt upright.

Happy? I feel happy?

He couldn’t remember feeling truly happy since his father had disappeared, but on this morning his mood was bordering on cheerful.

Perhaps it was the deal with the Extinctionists. My first major chunk of profit.

No. That wasn’t it. That particular transaction had left Artemis feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. So much so that he couldn’t think about it and would probably never dwell on the past few days again.

So what could account for this feeling of optimism? Something from the dream he’d been having. A plan. A new scheme that would bring enough profit to fund a hundred Arctic expeditions.

That was it. The dream. What had it been about?

It was just out of reach. The images already fading. A crafty smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

Fairies. Something about fairies.