Slowly, as the days trickled by, Opal found herself at war with the part of her that wanted to be nice to Artemis' friends. She would compensate for these sudden bursts of kindness by shutting everybody out as best she could, locking herself up in Artemis' room and only coming out to eat. She knew that her behavior would result in dire consequences: she would be found out, maybe even killed. But for now, she didn't care. Later, she thought, later I will do something about this. But by the time she had decided to act, it was already too late.
"Artemis!" Butler was rapping furiously on the closed door. "Artemis, let me in!" The knocking was so loud, so annoying. Opal found it hard to concentrate on her work. "Artemis!"
"Not now, Butler," she called back furiously, "I'm on the verge of a scientific breakthrough!" And so she was. Opal was sure she had almost found a way to kill Holly in the most painful way. "Just carry the one, and square the nine—no, wait—this goes over here—" she muttered to herself as she worked on the final details, trying to block out the noises Butler was making. Finally, she could take it no longer. "Butler! Go away!" There was a brief moment of silence, where she thought that he had obliged to her shrieked command, but then, the door came crashing down on her.
"Artemis, what are you doing?" Butler frowned upon the unmade bed, the scattered papers, the clothes that spilled out of the cabinet. Opal had not bothered to keep Artemis' room in good condition. "I don't know what is up with you. You never come out of that room of yours anymore, and when I do see you—" he shook his head, obviously disappointed. Butler moved to take a seat on the messy bed, its frame creaking slightly under his weight. He picked up one of the papers and observed it. "Exclusive Mission No. 326," he read in the handwriting that was not Artemis'. "Concerning the Extermination of Holly Short—wait. What?" He looked up at Opal, who was now standing, the untested model of her new invention in her hands. His breath left him. It was magnificent, a slim, wooden rod embedded with silver, about the length of his thigh, the perfect size for Opal to wield. "What—" Then Butler put all the clues together. "Opal," he breathed, and then she moved the stick and the tip, a glowing, white crystal pulsed, and he shielded himself with his arms, and moved to the window, so he could jump. Then he hit the ground. Myles is still waiting for his juice. As he thought this, he felt a surge of regret for having failed his family completely. Then, his eyes closed and and he knew no more.
