That was certainly unexpected. And suspicious. Foaly shook off the chills he suddenly felt and tried to suppress the intuition that something was seriously wrong – that he, and Holly, and Artemis, and everyone else were just lemmings blindly scampering along the barren dirt without any cover, and Minerva was a falcon, taking her time, watching as they played right into her deadly-sharp talons.

Chapter 8

Minerva leaned back onto the mattress, disliking its consistency, which was designed to balance comfort and good posture. Conventional comfort meant very little to Minerva now, and she allowed a pool of gold to trickle out of her and coat the bed, creating a more supportive, spine-straightening surface. This power was very convenient, but she must remember to pace herself; the amount of magic she had just used left her feeling a bit drained. A small nap right now would be heavenly.

But there was work to be done. Minerva sighed. Pausing to collect her thoughts, she stood from lying on her back in one fluid, effortless motion. Her dress had a fine layer of ground granite, some of which fluttered to the floor as she moved. She was about to dispel it with a bit of magic before she remembered that she needed to rest and recharge. So instead Minerva glided across the room to the wide window with the ornately carved sill. She ran her elegant fingertips over the maze of lilies and birds-of-paradise, and then cast her gaze outside.

A fresh layer of snow floated on the lawn and the cherry boughs, undisturbed by the commotion indoors. Minerva frowned with disapproval. Artemis shouldn't let snow fall so freely into the Manor premises. It would be all too easy for someone to slip a toxin or spy gadget in the midst of the flakes. Well, it would be all too easy for her, at least.

There it was, her practical side again. Her other side, almost ruining this lovely scene with criticism. Minerva would not let herself be disturbed by such thoughts today. Not now. She admired how the white blanketed everything, how for this one minute, right after snowfall, everything was fresh and clean and had a new start for all.

She turned from the window, and her thoughts wandered to that snowy evening when her father had taken her to the movie for the first time. There had been a trailer playing in the wall of the cinema, not of the movie they were watching, but still it stuck in her mind for all these years.

A young woman was in the water, exploring the sea caves. She probed into the darkness, but was shocked when she saw a cheery, inviting light appearing from one of the tunnels. Stepping in, she realized that it was a cavern full of gold and jewels. The cave was off her planned course, but she went in anyway.

And then the sharp stalactite—painfully obvious had she been paying attention to more than the glowing riches—caught on her oxygen tank, ripping a giant gash in the metal, and the woman watched in horror as the air disappeared with one short hiss.

Little Minerva had scoffed at that dramatic ending, and began listing all the ways that couldn't possibly ever happen, from the unprofessional expedition to the impossibility of such a hoard to the durability of the oxygen tank, and it had been a constant target of ridicule for her.

But now it was taking on new depth as a metaphor, preposterous as it was, for the very life Minerva was living. She could remember the days of her childhood, so pressured and grave compared to all other childhoods, but so light and carefree compared to Minerva now. And it wasn't just her young age, either. It was before she had taken it upon herself to be so much more than her human body allowed her to be. It was before the dark ambition.

And then her breath caught in her throat, and then she choked silently on something terrible, something achieved only in absolute lonely stillness—if that was even the correct word, since achieved implies a reward, and that implies something good—something that sent her back to the shimmering golden mattress, to take back all the magic, so quickly that it gave her a jolt, something that caused her to throw herself onto the now-soft bed and let herself sink in without fear of a posture less than impeccable.

The golden web standing guard at the door wavered, dim.

Yes, the snow had given a seemingly new start for everything. But that was not true, not true. Minerva could take nothing back, could undo nothing. She could not, for all her power and might, turn back the relentless force that was time. Once a decision was made, it was final. It was ridiculous that such a simple concept should pain her so, but it did, like a thousand blades slashing her golden heart, and for that moment, that spilt instant she wished that they truly would destroy the gold and replace it with a human red.

The tangle at the door flared.

Oh, you are right about one thing. This is ridiculous! Pouting like any stupid little girl who didn't get enough sugar on her cicada-pop! This is perfect! This is power! This is what you've always wanted! Now you have it, and you're going to sulk, you impudent ingrate? Oh –

Minerva flinched as a speck of magic flew off her fingertip involuntarily.

And you're not even worried about things you have a right to worry about—

The flinch turned into a shudder as the speck was followed by a droplet, and then a steady stream, and then an outright river – from all ten fingertips.

- like, oh, I don't know, your looks? You're hideous! And you refuse to change your body with magic, yet you lay here whimpering?

Minerva suppressed a scream as she was beset by a sudden soreness, and a wave of fatigue crushed her.

"Stop!" she managed to say. "I will finish the mission." She felt an immense sensation of relief as the current reversed, sending all the magic cascading back into her. As the last little speck flew back where it belonged, she was given a final warning –

You'd better not have any more worthless meltdowns.

"Of course not." In fact, in hindsight, Minerva was rather embarrassed by her weakness. "Of course not," she repeated, refashioning her gown with scissors and needles and threads of gold. "There's no time for, ahem, 'meltdowns'."

And with what dignity she could salvage, Minerva, now wearing a crisp, tailored silk business suit, composed herself, dismissed the thorns, and flowed out into the hallway, smooth and polished as ever.

Foaly tapped away furiously at his computers. He knew what Minerva was planning, but it wasn't going to be very helpful if no one else was notified. He was on his seventy-ninth try now, and he had failed to broadcast the information to the lazy receptionist two rooms away, much less an officer or the Council or, say, Artemis Fowl.

Foaly stifled a yawn. He couldn't afford to be distracted even for a second. He had yawned on try number forty-one, and when he opened his eyes he saw ACCESS DENIED. Number fifteen was thwarted by a cough. Sixty-two, a scratch. Thirty, stretching his fingers. Fifty-eight, an extended blink.

Still, he couldn't blame anything on these distractions. All his other attempts had been foiled by pure technological genius, after all. And Minerva wasn't even paying attention. He was being shot back by automatic sequences. Ah, the humiliation.

ACCESS DENIED

Foaly groaned and pushed his chair back. He almost couldn't stand at first – he had been at his computer so long. Dismally, he picked up Minerva's favorite microphone and checked the timer.

4138 … 4137 … 4136

He had little more than an hour left. Joy. Foaly dejectedly slumped back into his chair.

"Okay, secret file cabinet. If you exist, this would be a great time to show yourself!"

Nothing happened.

"Idiot," He was so stupid, wasting time on wishful thinking. He had turned back to the computers when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Something dark splotched on the far wall between two brimming stacks of wires and motherboards. Foaly walked over to it and saw that it was a tunnel of some sort. What on earth was a tunnel doing in the LEP top secret tech lab? What if it was a sabotage maneuver? Why had he never noticed this gaping hole before? How did it get here? What if it led … outside?

Well, I've got nothing to lose, he thought, and stepped in.

Minerva's ears heard some sort of heated discussion going on inside Artemis's office. Well. It seems like she had caught a lovers' squabble. This will be amusing, if not very informative. She leaned against the hallway wall and listened.

"…presumptuous while somebody is lying on a couch, was injured, could've died, because of you!"

Artemis inhaled sharply. What-how-? "What did you say?"

"You heard me, you arrogant little Mud Boy!"

Minerva frowned. Why could she not detect Holly's thoughts? They must've been quite intense and emotionally charged, in the middle of an argument. So why?

But now Artemis was saying – no – thinking something.

Minerva's powers must've transferred to her somehow … intriguing …

And suddenly she could sense Holly. Yes, her thoughts were very loud indeed, and their sudden appearance gave Minerva a start.

IDIOT STUPID INGRATE SNOBBY SPOILED ANNOYING IHATEHIM …

Minerva sighed at how disorganized Holly's mind was compared to Artemis' (which made him all the more admirable). Still, there was that one thing Artemis had thought. Had her powers ricocheted and – and transferred? Was that why Holly had temporary immunity? Minerva focused, trying to sense Artemis, whose quiet, collected thoughts were all but drowned out by Holly's rage. A few minutes later, she came to the conclusion that the transfer was very short-lived, at least in this case. But still, this was worrying. Holly was something that would have to be dealt with sooner or later. In some way or other.

Artemis stared at Holly and concentrated his thoughts. Holly, can you hear me? Can you hear me? And then, when that evoked no reaction, he tried the bolder Holly, your eyes are quite pretty. No, don't take that as a compliment; I'm really saying that my eyes are attractive. In fact, you would be quite an imbecile to think that I would make a remark like that in such an experiment…

"Artemis," Holly snapped.

Why, oh why did I choose that moment to prattle…She must've heard me.

"Stop staring at me like that. It's creeping me out."

Or not.

"I'm not apologizing, by the way, no matter how long or how weirdly you stare. I meant every word. No regrets. Now leave me alone and don't come back until you're ready to say 'sorry'."

"I never say anything as primitive as 'sorry'."

"Well, I guess you'll never come back, then."

"Holly –"

"Out. Now."

"You need to know that –"

"I said now."

Artemis took a deep breath. "As you wish," he said curtly. He stood decisively, and strode out the door without a second's hesitation.

A/N: A long, not-too-action-filled chapter. Some especially perceptive readers may have already guessed the twist to Minerva, but don't worry if you haven't. All will be revealed ... in good time, of course.