Opal Koboi, to grossly simplify it, tends to complicate things. Thus it was a rather pleasant surprise when all that was needed to restrain the pixie-genius was a a scrounged-up straitjacket from Fowl Manor.
Holly and Artemis were sitting in the crashed Silver Cupid. While one always ought to be cautious about holding the megalomaniacal pixie in any shuttle, even a crashed one, it was better here than in the house. Additionally, the less time Butler had to be in direct contact with her limp figure, all the better.
Artemis watched Opal's clone as she slept fitfully on a lowered seat. She was breathing much easier than before. When Butler had first carefully approached her, she seemed to be struggling to even draw breath. It settled sometime before Butler retrieved the straitjacket and wrapped the pixie in it. Artemis guessed that it had something to do with the soul getting used to the new body.
"Arty, why do you have a straitjacket?" Holly asked, breaking into his thoughts.
"There seems to be something of a trend when it comes to insanity in my household," Artemis said. "I find that it pays to be prepared."
Holly cocked her head.
"Are you... expecting something to happen?"
Artemis gave Holly one of his classic vampire grins.
"You'll notice that the jacket is sized for Myles and Beckett," he admitted. "I fear that one day they will drive me to the brink, so preventative measures are necessary."
Holly nodded sagely, reaching over to pinch Artemis' arm.
"Are you sure about that, mud-boy?" she teased, running her hand down a bony arm like she wasn't just feeling him up. "Butler won't help you wrestle them forever. Do you actually think you can handle two five-year-olds?"
Artemis considered this.
"Myles perhaps. Beckett, no," he said seriously.
Holly snorted, and the two sat in companionable silence. The elf scooted in the chair, edging slightly into his space. Rubbing elbows. Scandalous. Artemis quirked an eyebrow, while the LEP captain met his gaze defiantly.
"You know, Opal seems to be executing the plan that I had in mind," he said, trying to steer the conversation somewhere safe.
Holly unconsciously brought a hand to her forehead. Artemis had planted a kiss there, but considering the circumstances, she couldn't quite enjoy it at the time.
"Right," she said, slightly confused, "what was I supposed to do? Kiss Foaly?"
"No, the kiss was to ensure you had my DNA on your person. Though now that I think about it, the plan would have been thrown in jeopardy had you simply taken a shower when you returned to the Lower Elements."
Artemis shrugged. He had expected it to be a desperate last ditch plan anyways, and he didn't have to act on it any longer, so he decided to file it away for refinement another time.
"Well, regardless, I expect Foaly would have been able to extract my DNA and produce a clone. From there, all I had to do was maintain my spirit for the prerequisite six months or so, as the Berserker Gate spell drew only fairy souls into the afterlife. But when I saw Oro brandishing that dagger around, I formulated an entirely new plan. As you can see, even if I had lost the eye entirely, it was still less of a gamble."
Holly nodded, seriously.
"I do prefer you down an eye to dead," she said. Then the elf frowned, adding, "Wait, do you mean the chrysalis that Opal used to break out of Argon's? That definitely falls under the category of Koboi-touched. Right now it's probably a pile of molten scrap isn't it?"
Artemis stilled.
"Ah," he said dumbly.
Holly said nothing, then hugged him again, wrapping her arms around his waist. She buried her face into his chest for a moment before extricating it out of embarrassment. There was to be no nuzzling of mud-man shirts. Yet.
She didn't release him from her hug though, and Artemis appreciated the contact. He had, at this point, begun to shake uncontrollably. Involuntary tremors, how quaint. At the very least, his first outright failure of a plan only had a hole poked in it after the life-or-death situation in question.
"Well, as selfless a martyr I could have been," he said, recovering somewhat, "I'm glad that I came up with an alternate plan."
"I'm glad too," Holly hummed. Her grip around Artemis tightened, but he found that he didn't mind at all.
At that moment, Butler returned, ducking his head through the shuttle door. Even though the Silver Cupid was built for human heights, which meant that it was positively giant by fairy standards, he was glad he didn't have to be in here for long. The manservant was a professional, but nothing struck dread into him so consistently like the thought of sitting in a shuttle for hours on end. They simply did not make these things in Butler-size.
"Artemis, I'm back. Mulch told me to pass you on his farewells."
Holly jumped back on instinct, causing Artemis to instantly miss being in her arms. On her part, the captain flushed upon realizing that she was acting like a teenager whose mom had walked in on her. For Artemis, he didn't mind that Mulch had left terribly much. He had a troll, he'd be fine.
"Welcome back," greeted Artemis warmly, "I trust Juliet and my brothers are healthy?"
"As healthy as can be expected," Butler agreed. "I do think that they are taking the jet to London as soon as possible, however. But if anyone can keep your family safe, it will be Juliet."
Artemis nodded. Given the circumstances, he had to ensure that his parents were protected. Additionally, he didn't want his brothers anywhere near Opal. If she woke up and began firing magic bolts again, Artemis did not intend on giving her anyone she could use as a hostage.
Truth be told, he did not intend to allow her to do much at all.
—
She had been floating, but that was a long time ago. Where was she now? Stuck. The walls felt close. It was… glass? She didn't quite know. She supposed she wasn't supposed to know. Or to suppose anything. This was all quite new.
Then she instinctually knew where she was: the chrysalis. She was born there and had spent a long time there. She didn't know if it was comfortable, but it was familiar. Odd. Before, she had never really wondered if there was something outside the glass. But now there was a desire. Could she open the door?
She struggled to lift a hand. A finger. She could not. She was so weak. She blinked a milky eye. The scene changed.
Now where was she? She could hear two pixies talking. They had the same voice. Twins? The Brill brothers, her mind helpfully supplied, though she thought that she had never met either of them before.
She was much less comfortable where she was now. It was dark and smelled of cleaning chemicals. Also it was a little wet. Normally she sat in a mildly humid and comfortably warm booth since her body was wholly incapable of regulating body-temperature on top of the arduous task of maintaining organ functionality. One or the other.
Suddenly, light assaulted her senses. Or rather just her sight. Her pupils dilated and she saw four pairs of diminutive hands reach out for her. Their fingers on her delicate skin felt like little syringes jabbing into her. She wished they didn't handle her so roughly.
Were they taking her somewhere? She felt very precarious, and she hoped that the Brill brothers wouldn't drop her. She had the impression that if they did, she would shatter like a glass ballerina doll. Hm. What was a ballerina?
She saw herself being unhooked from many wires and sensors. She looked quite upset, so it probably wasn't a reflection. A reflection didn't look quite so condescending. No, her name is—was Opal. Was that her name then? Were they twins like these two pixies?
They hooked her up where Opal had been. She couldn't move again. Not that she wanted to. Then a squat psychologist rushed in and jammed something into her mouth. Now she wanted to move. But she couldn't. Trapped again.
Her name wasn't Opal.
One more. She was behind glass again. But there were gloves for someone to reach in and touch her. None for the other way around, but nobody expected that she wanted to explore the outside world with her fingers too. Maybe for the best. It seemed all she was doomed to feel was pain.
She felt a hand on her brow, waking her from a dreamless sleep. They were gentle. Soft. Or maybe that was the rubber in the glove. But they were warm fingers, ones that didn't jostle her nor stab needles into her veins. She wanted to nuzzle her forehead against the fingers, greedy to get more of this touch.
But she couldn't, so she was content to simply sit in the incubator. The hand had a name. Holly. She had a last name too, but "Holly" was what she heard the elf being called by the other one. A human, very pale and gaunt, sometimes sick but very smart. He didn't touch her but that was fine. He played with her.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Arty showed up. That was what Holly called him. Arty and Holly. Easy to remember. They called her something too. Nopal. It was her name. She thought it was pretty.
Arty drummed his fingers against the glass. Slowly at first, but building up. It was catchy, or at least Nopal thought so. It was her only experience with music after all. It seemed to free her somewhat. She tried to touch his hand, forgetting the glass which separated them for a moment. The hard glass bumped against her, denying her access to the outside. It hurt.
Nevertheless, Nopal was determined. The rhythm was fun to match, too. She tapped it out, clumsily trying to follow Arty's lead. She saw the two outside smile. Nopal would have smiled too, but she was too focused. If her pores worked right, she would have been sweating from the exertion.
If she didn't play right, Arty would leave. And if he left, so would Holly. She had nobody else.
Finally, in an act that had her shuddering in exhaustion, her hand slapped the glass one final time. Except now it was smooth stone, a glowing green light. Lots of green lights and good smells resulted. How pretty.
Then she felt a bolt of electricity blow into her chest and send her tumbling down a hill. It hurt a lot, but that was okay.
She had been in pain since she was born.
More importantly, everything was better! There was an awful mask on her face at first, but now she could see and smell everything! It was all so novel. The jabs of the hundreds of blades of grass digging into her bare skin tickled. The smell of the air here on the surface was sweet. The refreshing coolness of the dew against her neck made her shiver.
Nopal's neck lolled, staring up at the night sky slowly turning to dawn. Green magic shimmered between her and the stars. What an obstacle. In the early Irish morning, Nopal felt that she could reach out and pluck the beautiful motes of light for herself. Maybe she'd give some of them to Arty and Holly.
Nopal watched Arty run past. Off somewhere. She wished she could chase him. A smile wormed its way to her mouth.
She was dying. Regrettably, she didn't spend that much time with Holly or Arty. She wished she could. It was fine if she didn't, though. After all, this relative freedom she had—as limited as it was to her rolling down a hill and lying there—was enough, really.
Nopal closed her eyes. The wind howled. It took all the strength she had left to wiggle her fingers in the grass. To feel them one last time.
It was nice.