Chapter 3 - Diabolical Tragedy
ORSAY E1-C FAIRY TERMINAL, PARIS, FRANCE
Well, ''stood up'' might be too big a word. ''Jumped like an electrocuted frog while coughing and spitting out his guts'' would be a more accurate description. Gasping, Artemis couldn't retain a cry of pain. Shock had first anesthetized him, but now it had faded, he felt as if he had a lighted blowtorch in his limbs. His sight already blurred by tears, Artemis had to gather all his mental strength to keep himself from fingering his chest. He had no desire to know the damages a radio antenna could do on a human body. Though, due to his difficulty to breathe and the blood regularly spurting out of the wound, he guessed his heart and limbs had been severely affected.
« Don't panic. Don't panic or your brain won't end up irrigated enough to decide whether you have to panic or not. »
A flash of pain shot through Artemis from side to side, reaping another scream from from his mouth. He clenched his hands upon his wound, his sobs getting more and more intense. He had done everything he could to get prepared, but he would never have imagined the pain to be so excruciatingly unbearable. It burnt and froze at the same time, and the bleeding was intensifying for he wasn't able to slow down his heartbeat.
« Remind me, why did I wake up? »
Suddenly he felt a weight on his shoulders. Wide and gnarled hands, the grip firm but tender. Artemis tried to say his bodyguard's name, but his sore throat only emitted unintelligible gurgles. A third hand, thin and soft, smelling like lemongrass, placed on his mouth to prevent him from talking. The gestures were kind, but the hand was shaking. Artemis tried to understand who the hand belonged to, when other ones, much smaller, moved his fingers clenched on his wound and literaly dove into the gaping hole of flesh and blood. Pain whiplashed through Artemis's chest, and he huddled in Butler's warm and reassuring embrace, his sight, blurred with tears - were they still his ? - and blue sparks, becoming more and more fuzzy. Before he fainted, Artemis heard distraught voices talking about hospital, emergency and Haven-City, and he caught himself wishing he wouldn't wake up again.
HAVEN-CITY CENTRAL HOSPITAL, UNDERGROUND WORLD
His eyes closed, Artemis tried to determine whether he should open them or not. From the omnipresent smell of antiseptic and his bed's too much ironed sheets, he was indeed in a hospital. The pain in his chest was now reduced to an irritating tingling. Artemis wondered what his mortal wound looked like. Had the epiderm formed a tiny layer upon the hole, or had magic created skin inside the wound too, covering the ripped bones and organs ? And what about the latter ? Artemis felt heartbeats in his chest, an electrocardiogram was bipping regularly on his right, and the acid weight keeping him from breathing had disappeared. He concluded his organs were doing fine. He felt an irrepressible and morbid need to check his hypotheses, but the fear he might not be alone in the room kept him from moving. He really didn't want to see his friends now, but above all Butler wasn't probably far away, and the idea of facing the bodyguard highly terrified Artemis. He thought for a moment he could simulate a coma, but his wound itched terribly. He listened carefully, and perceived no other breathing than his own. As the tinglings were becoming more and more unbearable, Artemis eventually opened his eyes.
Around his bed, Butler, Holly, Foaly and Minerva were observing him with ghastly faces. Artemis considered the possibility of fainting again, but the trick would be too obvious. He tried to stare back at them, but the light of reproach and incomprehension in their eyes made him uncomfortable. Artemis swallowed and lowered his head. He knew from the beginning he couldn't escape this, but he didn't imagine it would be that hard. He closed his eyes, then reopened them.
''I...''
''Goddammit, Artemis'', Butler cut off with a shaky voice, ''what the hell is this all about ?!''
Artemis shut up, guilt overwhelming him. Only looking at the Eurasian's confused face hurt him. How do you explain to your bodyguard, your friend, that you've been lying to him for years ?
To give himself a semblance of composure, he bent towards his wound. Holly opened her mouth to speak, but didn't say anything. Artemis smiled sadly. Eventually, his second hypothesis about skin was the right one.
« Fabulous. Now I can be part of Freaks circus : ''After the limbless man, please welcome the pierced one !''... I hope I'll get along well with the siamese twins.»
He ran his finger along the soft, baby-like skin, raising and lowering by the rythm of the systole and diastole, which covered his newly-reconstructed heart.
''Er, Artemis, you shouldn't touch it'', Foaly said with embarassment. ''The Paramedic Warlocks finished the operation on your heart less than an hour ago, it's still... fragile.''
''It's my fault'', Holly added with a guilty look. ''I only tried to stop the bleeding, I didn't think the magic would try to fix the, er... the rest.''
''I spare you the details, but if I hadn't been able to get Trouble's authorization to send an emergency shuttle that quick, you would have ended up with a bone heart and a skin ribcage'', the centaur resumed.
A silence followed this declaration. Artemis raised his eyes towards Butler, and immediately regretted this move. Never had he seen the bodyguard so depressed. And this, by his fault. The grey eyes gave him a gaze filled with mixed sadness and reproach. Artemis felt a weight falling on his stomach. Butler was already mad at him. When he'd learn the truth, the bodyguard would never forgive him. Artemis desperately clenched his fists. He had to say something, anything.
''I'm sorry.''
To his ears, the words seemed empty and ridiculous, and he regretted them as soon as he had pronounced them. Butler sighed shaking his head. He opened the front of his jacket and took something in his inner pocket. When Artemis identified the object, he felt his heart stop beating.
''Can you explain to me where you got this from, Artemis ?'' the Eurasian eventually dropped, throwing the piece of embossed paper on the bed.
The young Fowl felt like a murderer caught red-handed. He hadn't thought they would find the letter, and the panic rising inside him kept him from inventing an excuse.
« Which excuse would you invent anyway, stupid ? It's too late for lies, far too late. You had to think about it before jumping under this bloody antenna. »
Artemis shivered when he remembered his death. The anxiety choking him a few milliseconds before the impact. The feel of the antenna getting through him like a knife cutting through butter. The sound of his bones cracking, his muscles torn apart. Then the darkness.
''D'Arvit, Artemis !'' Holly exclaimed, bringing him back to reality. ''Why were you carrying around a paper with my name and the time and date of your death on it ?'' she added with a desperate voice.
Artemis sighed. He couldn't back away any further. He owed them explanations.
''The time and date of your death, Holly'', he answered.
''My...''
Under the shock, Holly couldn't end her sentence. She had suspected it was that, but she had hoped with all her heart Artemis would give a less frightening explanation.
''I received that letter this morning,'' Artemis went on reluctantly. ''I... I... first I though it was a hoax, but when you called to give me an appointment at the Tuileries garden, I understood I had actually received a paper with your death planned on it. I immediately decided to prevent it, one way or another. Butler, I knew you would think it too dangerous and you wouldn't let me go, that's why I insisted you go to the Louvre with Minerva. I should've explained, I apologize. Before we arrived at the Eiffel Tower square, I still didn't know how you were exactly supposed to die, Holly. I first thought you were going to fly atop the Tower, hoping to get communication back with Haven, and be electrocuted by a bolt of lightning, but eventually we ended up on the square. I hadn't a single idea what was going to happen, but as I saw there was only a few seconds left I improvised. I pushed you and put myself in your place. It worked.''
Artemis bit his lip. He had tried and hadn't lied all along the line, but he couldn't manage to tell his friends the truth. Neither him, nor them were ready for this. The question was, when would they ? For the moment, his friends were all staring at him, trying to digest the information. Foaly and Minerva exchanged a look. Artemis couldn't blame them for being suspicious. Rarely he had invented such a wobbly and incoherent story, even back when he was writing slushy stories to make some more money. Foaly eventually stepped forward, his hooves breaking the silence.
''It's a lovely friendship story you're telling us, Artemis'', the centaur said, ''but beside its absurdity, it doesn't answer the question we all have in mind...''
''...why did you sacrifice yourself and how is it that you're still alive ?'' Minerva completed in disbelief, pointing his wound.
''I knew I couldn't die'', Artemis said slowly, ''because I'm already dead.''
Silence.
''...S...Sorry ?'' Butler stammered.
''I'm already dead'', Artemis repeated in a weaker voice.
''D'Arvit'', Holly dropped in shock.
''It's impossible'', Minerva decreted.
''You're joking, aren't you ?'' Foaly asked.
Only Butler remained silent. He was the only one Artemis was staring at, and soon the others imitated him. The Eurasian asked in a soft voice :
''When ?''
''I was six'', his principal answered bleakly.
Butler stood and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Artemis buried his face in his hands. He could hardly imagine how the situation might get worse.
ISSY-LES-MOULINEAUX, PARISIAN SUBURB
Leaning on the edge of the flat's window, Lagartija Nick was daydreaming. He observed the walkers distractly, not bigger than ants from the building's eighth floor, and thought a little bit of music would be welcome. A ballet theme, like Coppélia for example. The first act's mazurka. Grandiloquent, cheerful and naive, just like those stupid Livings, running in all directions without realizing they were alive.
« Maybe these insects have a goal in life, Nick thought, but most of them certainly don't know it. »
He didn't either, but what he knew was that whatever the path the Livings had chosen to follow, this path always lead to death. Nick fingered his mustache with his fingertips, humming dully Delibes's notes.
''It's all so grotesque'', he suddenly said. ''Birth, worries, boredom. Work, work, work. Hospital, coffin, maggots. Full stop. So many surprises ! And they persist in calling this life. Seriously ? If I weren't already dead, I think I would die again. From laughter.''
A gurgle resounded behind him. Lagartija Nick nodded with a sigh.
''Ah, how right you are... One day, when I have the time, I'll write a book about life. I think I'll call it The Diabolical Tragedy, may Dante forgive me. What do you think ?''
Another gurgle. Nick turned, and his eyes took a few moments to get accustomed to the darkness in the bathroom. Tiles and walls were splattered in an absolutely sublime red, shiny and so gloomy it almost seemed purple. In the bathtub, his head underwater, Nick's interlocutor was breathing - or rather bubbling, actually - his last. Twenty-seven, ugly and spotty, too uncomfortable with himself to strive to survive. Nothing really out of the ordinary, except the forensic scientists were going to waste valuable time trying to determine which of the drowning or the slashed veins had caused death in the first place. Nick thought briefly he could spare these brave men by taking this moron's head out of the water, but that poor freak didn't even wash his hair before committing suicide, and Nick hated getting dirty. This morning, he had to scrap up the remains of a little girl under a combine harvester for he had arrived too late. That was enough filthy stuff for today.
Thus he waited for the last air bubble to reach the water surface before getting to the bathtub. He dove his leather-gloved hand and touched the fresh corpse's cheek. An euphorizing warmth overwhelmed him, making him unvolontarily moan in pleasure while the tremulous soul roamed inside his organism, terrified. Lagartija Nick gave himself a few instants, then he spat the soul at the open air. He caught it in full flight while it tried to escape, and squeezed it mercilessly. The soul was struggling, trying to join its owner. Nick felt as he had a scared little bird in his hand. Eventually, he let go, and the shiny blue soul joined the body it had once occupied. The young suicide clumsily extricated himself out of water, uncomfortable and disoriented. He tripped over the calf of his body still lying in the bathtub, and almost crushed on the tiles. He painstakingly got hold of the shower curtain, and remained still for a few seconds, analyzing the situation.
''Er...'' the young man said fingering his butchered wrists, ''I'm dead, am I ?''
''No shit, Sherlock'', Lagartija Nick sneered. ''Well observed. Deader than you is indecent.''
Nick was joking, but his laughter sounded bitter. Usually, it was just his favorite moment : unable to accept their time on Earth was over, the dead souls went through all stades of denial, anger and sadness, and often ended up insulting him, which never failed to make Nick laugh for he loved to learn new swearwords. But suicides behaved differently. Sometimes they thanked him warmly for releasing them from their miserable life, but most of the time they just stared at him with a moronic look on their faces - which the actual young deadman was presently doing. Nick rolled his eyes, exasperated. How much did he hate suicides ! When he didn't have to deal with completely hallucinated satanists or depressed guys bursting into tears, they were larvae not even trying to look surprised. How boring... !
Lagartija would have gladly left this naked moron in his filthy bathtub, but there was a procedure to follow, so he grumbled :
''As you have finely noticed, you have reached your deadline, mister, eh...'' Nick took a white embossed paper out of his pocket then stored it back after rereading it quickly. ''R. McGuffin. Robert or Richard ?''
''Rodolphucius.''
''Rod... oh, now I understand the wrists slashing. As for me, my name is Lagartija Nick. It's probably not very evocating for you, as most of the Livings know me under my various nicknames. Death, the Grim Reaper, Thanatos, la Camarde, Anubis... Anyway, you don't have to mind about it, because if you call me something other than « Sir » I'll rip your head off. But let's move on : your heart stopped beating at 6.30 PM and eighteen seconds, and you left the Living to join the Dead. Welcome and congratulations.
''Th... thank you'', said Rodolphucius who, a bit stunned, had a hard time following Nick's fast speech.
''Shut up when I'm speaking, runt'', Lagartija Nick retorted. ''As your death is due to suicide, you'll be assigned to a Banshee function once in the Catacombs. In the Livings' language, it means you'll be a civil servant. No need to insult me, it's the rule'', he added as Rodolphucius opened his mouth to protest. ''If you are willing to rebel any way whatsoever, I promise you are going to regret your razor didn't skip on your wrist, for the saddest and most miserable moments of your rat's life are holidays in the countryside next to what awaits for those who disobey me.''
Rodolphucius shut his mouth.
''Good. I shall accompany you to the nearer Thanatorium, you may ask me some questions while we're walking. Not now, I've got a headache. For the moment, you just have to know that...''
A fluttered melody suddenly arose, making the young suicide jump. Nick dropped an exasperated swearword and got his mobile out of his pocket.
''Who dares disturbing me while I'm working ?'' he shouted in the device.
''I thought I had the right if there was an emergency'', answered a feminine voice on the other side of the line.
Lagartija Nick calmed down immediately. Severine was the only person who could afford disturbing him without condemning herself to a slow and particularly painful second death.
''Are you sure this is an exceptional situation ?''
''Lucky Artemis didn't reap his elf friend's soul. Yours to state if the information is worthy of your attention or not, I'm going to get a kebab, I'm starvin'. See ya, honey.''
''Bye, Severine'', Nick said to the dead line.
A wide smile had spread across his face, and his eyes lit with jubilation. He knew it, he would have bet. Lucky and his heart too big for his problems... Finally, an occasion to have a bit of fun before launching the plan.
''Er, Sir, what's going on ?'' Rodolphucius worried seeing Nick rushing towards the door.
Lagartija Nick turned, and his smile froze the little blood that remained in the young man's veins.
''The Diabolical Tragedy has just begun'', Death chuckled slamming the door behind him.
