“You think this ridiculous thing could ever have accomplished what I have accomplished?”
“That is Captain Holly Short of the Lower Elements Police,” said Artemis. “Show some respect. She beat you before.”
“This is not before,” said Opal emphatically. “This is now. The end of days for humanity.” She grabbed Holly’s hand and slapped it vaguely in the area of the handprint on the Berserker Gate. “Oh, look at that. The gate is not closing. Holly Short has no power here.” Opal laughed cruelly. “Oh, poor, pretty Holly. Imagine, if only your hand would activate the gate, then your suffering could end right now.”
“We could do it,” mumbled Artemis, but his eyes were closing, and it seemed as though he had lost faith in himself. His free hand tapped a distracted rhythm on the stone. The human’s mind had finally snapped.
“Ridiculous,” said Opal, calming herself. “And here I am, getting flustered by your claims. You vex me, Artemis, and I will be glad when you are dead.”
Two things happened while Opal was ranting at Holly. The first thing was that Opal had a series of thoughts:
Holly’s hand seems very small.
Opal realized that she hadn’t closely examined the elf since she’d appeared at the crater’s rim. Either she’d been lying down, or Artemis had shielded her body with his own.
But her face. I saw the face. It was definitely her.
The second thing to happen was that the small hand in question, which still rested on the Berserker Gate, began to crab spasmodically toward the handprint, feeling its way with fingertips.
Opal pulled back Holly’s hood to take a better look and saw that the face crackled a little on close inspection.
A mask. A child’s projection mask. Like the one used by Pip…
“No!” she screamed. “No, I will not permit it!”
She reached under Holly’s chin and wrenched off the mask, and of course it was not Holly underneath.
Opal saw her own cloned face beneath the mask, and she felt instantly traumatized, as though blindsided by a massive blow.
“It is me!” she breathed, then giggled hysterically. “And only I can close the gate.”
Two seconds of stunned inaction followed from Opal, which allowed Nopal’s fingers to arrange themselves perfectly in the handprint. The print turned green and radiated a warm light. The smell of summer emanated from the stone, and there was birdsong.
Artemis chuckled, showing his blood-rimmed teeth. “I would imagine that you’re vexed now.”
Opal sent a vicious magical pulse directly into the clone’s torso, twisting her from Juliet’s grip and sending her rolling away from the gate, but all she accomplished with her brutality was to let the ethereal light flood through faster. The emerald rays spiraled upward in a tight coil, then fanned out to form a hemisphere around the magic circle. The Berserkers sighed and bathed their upturned faces in the meadow-green glow.
“It is finally finished, Opal,” said Artemis. “Your plan has failed. You are finished.”
There were people in the light, smiling and beckoning. There were scenes from times gone by. Fairies farming in this very valley.
Opal did not give up so easily and recovered herself. “No. I still have power. Perhaps I lose these Berserker fools, but my magic will protect me. There are other fairies to be duped, and the next time you will not stop me.”
Opal slapped Oro hard to distract him from the light. “Make certain that clone is dead,” she ordered. “The magic may not take the soulless creature. Finish her off if need be. Do it now!”
Oro frowned. “But she is one of us.”
“What do I care?”
“But it is over, Majesty. We are leaving.”
“Do as I say, thrall. It can be your last act before you ascend. Then I am done with you.”
“She is innocent. A helpless pixie.”
Opal was enraged by the argument. “Innocent? What do I care about that? I have killed a thousand innocent fairies, and I will kill ten times that if I deem it necessary. Do as I command.”
Oro drew the dagger, which seemed as big as a sword in his hand. “No, Opal. Bruin released me from my bonds. You shall kill no more fairies.”
And with a soldier’s efficiency he pierced Opal’s heart with a single thrust. The tiny pixie dropped, still speaking. She talked until her brain died, mouthing foul vitriol, still refusing to believe that it was over for her. She died staring into Artemis’s face, hating him.
Artemis wanted to hate right back, but all he could feel was sadness for the waste of life.
Something that may have been a spirit, or a dark twisted shadow, flickered behind Opal for a moment like a fleeing thief, then dissolved in the magical light.