Artemis Fowl_ The Opal Deception - Eoin Colfer [6]
“Seal it up,” he ordered.
Scant bent close to the wound and placed a thumb at each end.
“Heal,” he whispered, and blue sparks of fairy magic ran rings around his fingers, sinking into the wound. In seconds the folds of skin had zipped themselves together, with only a pale pink scar to show that a cut had been made—a scar almost identical to the one that already existed. Opal’s own magic had dried up months ago, as she was in no position to complete a power-restoring ritual.
“Miss Koboi,” said Merv briskly. “Time to get up. Wakey-wakey.”
He unstrapped Opal completely from the harness. The unconscious pixie collapsed onto the lid of the cleaning trolley. Merv slapped her across the cheek, bringing a blush to her face. Opal’s breathing rate increased slightly, but her eyes remained closed.
“Jolt her,” said Scant.
Merv pulled an LEP-issue buzz baton from inside his jacket. He powered it up and touched Opal on the elbow. The pixie’s body jerked spasmodically, and Opal Koboi shot into consciousness, a sleeper waking from a nightmare.
“Cudgeon,” she screamed. “You betrayed me!”
Merv grabbed her shoulders. “Miss Koboi. It’s us, Mervall and Descant. It’s time.”
Opal glared at him, wild eyed.
“Brill?” she said after several deep breaths.
“That’s right. Merv and Scant. We need to go.”
“Go? What do you mean?”
“Leave,” said Merv urgently. “We have about a minute.”
Opal shook her head, dislodging the after-trance daze. “Merv and Scant. We need to go.”
Merv helped her from the trolley’s lid. “That’s right. The clone is ready.”
Scant peeled back a sealed foil false bottom in the trolley. Inside lay a cloned replica of Opal Koboi wearing an Argon Clinic coma suit. The clone was identical, down to the last follicle. Scant removed an oxygen mask from the clone’s face, hauled it from its resting place, and began cinching her into the harness.
“Remarkable,” said Opal, brushing the clone’s skin with her knuckle. “Am I that beautiful?”
“Oh yes,” said Merv. “That and more.”
Suddenly, Opal screeched. “Idiots. Its eyes are open. It can see me!”
Scant closed the clone’s lids hurriedly. “Don’t worry, Miss Koboi, it can’t tell anyone, even if its brain could decipher what it sees.”
Opal climbed groggily into the trolley. “But its eyes can register images. Foaly may think to check. That infernal centaur.”
“Don’t fret, Miss,” said Scant, folding the trolley’s false bottom over his mistress. “Very soon now, that will be the least of Foaly’s worries.”
Opal strapped the oxygen mask across her face. “Later,” she said, her voice muffled by the plastic. “Talk, later.”
Koboi drifted into a natural sleep, exhausted by even this small exertion. It could be hours before the pixie regained consciousness. After a coma of that length, there was even the risk that Opal would never be quite as smart as she once was.
“Time?” said Merv.
Scant glanced at his moonometer. “Thirty seconds left.”
Merv finished cinching the straps exactly as they had been. Pausing only to dab sweat from his brow, he made a second incision with his scalpel, this time in the clone’s arm, and inserted the seeker-sleeper. While Scant sealed the cut with a blast of magical sparks, Merv rearranged the cleaning paraphernalia over the trolley’s false section.
Scant bobbed impatiently. “Eight seconds, seven. By the gods, this is the last time I break the boss out of a clinic and replace her with a clone.”
Merv spun the trolley on its castors, pushing it through the open doorway. “Five . . . four . . .”
Scant did one last check around, running his eyeballs across everything they had touched.
“Three ...two ...”
They were out, pulling the door behind them.
“One ...”
Corporal Grub slumped slightly, then jerked to attention.
“Hey . . . what the? I’m really thirsty. Is anyone else thirsty?”
Merv stuffed the night-vision goggles into the trolley, blinking a bead of sweat from his eyelid. “It’s the air in here. I get dehydrated all the time. Terrible headaches.”