The Lost Colony (Disney)

by Eoin Colfer

“No,” said Eric. “We fight demons.”

  “Demons?” said little Jonah, half skeptical, half scared out of his wits.

  “Yeah. They’re all over California. By day, they’re normal guys. Accountants and basketball players, stuff like that. But at night they peel off their skin and go hunting kids. Under-tens.”

  “Under-tens? Like me.”

  “Like you. Exactly like you. I found these demons chewing on a couple of twin girls. Maybe eight years old. I killed most of ’em, but a few must’ve followed me home. We gotta stay real quiet and they’ll go away.”

  Jonah rushed for the phone. “We should call Mom.”

  “No!” said Eric, snatching the phone. “You want to get Mom killed? Is that what you want?”

  The idea of his mother dying started Jonah crying. “No. Mom can’t die.”

  “Exactly,” Eric said gently. “You gotta leave the demon-slaying to me and my boys. When you’re fifteen, then you get to be sworn in, but until then, this is our secret. You stay in the house and let me do my duty. Promise?”

  Jonah nodded, blubbering too much to say the word.

  And so the brothers sat huddled on the sofa while Eric’s girlfriend’s boyfriend’s brothers battered on the windows and called him out.

  This is a cruel trick, Eric thought. Maybe I’ll just let it run for a couple of months. It’ll keep the kid out of trouble until everything dies down.

  The deception worked well. Jonah didn’t set foot outside the house after dusk for weeks. He sat on the couch with his knees drawn to his chin, waiting for Eric to return with elaborate demon-slaying stories. Every night he feared that his brother would not return, that the demons would kill him.

  One night his fears came to pass. The cops said that Eric had been killed by a notorious gang of brothers who had been gunning for him. Something about a girl. But Jonah knew different. He knew the demons had done it. They had peeled off their faces and killed his brother.

  So Jonah Lee, now known as Billy Kong, was going in to see Holly, carrying the weight of his childhood memories. For the sake of his sanity, he had managed to convince himself over the decades that there were no demons, and that his beloved brother had lied to him. This betrayal had messed him up for years, preventing him from forming lasting relationships, and making it a lot easier for him to hurt people. And now this crazy Minerva girl was paying him to help her to hunt down actual demons, and it turns out they were real. He had seen them with his own eyes.

  At this stage, Billy Kong couldn’t tell fact from fiction. A part of him believed that he had had a bad accident, and that all of this was coma hallucinations. All Billy knew for sure was that if there was the slightest chance that these demons were the same ones who’d killed Eric, then they were going to pay. It was revenge he was after.

  Holly was not too happy playing the victim. She’d had enough of that in the Academy. Every time the curriculum had thrown up a role-playing game, Holly, as the only girl in that class, had been picked to be the hostage, or the elf walking home alone, or the teller facing a bank robber. She’d tried to object that this was stereotyping, but the instructor had replied that stereotypes were stereotypes for a reason, and get that blond wig on. So when Artemis proposed that she allow herself to get caught, Holly had taken a bit of persuading. Now she was tied to a wooden chair in a dark damp basement room, waiting for some human to come and torture her. The next time Artemis had a plan involving someone being taken hostage, he could play the part himself. It was ridiculous. She was a captain in her eighties and Artemis was a fourteen-year-old civilian, and yet he was dishing out the orders and she was taking them.

  That’s because Artemis is a tactical genius, said her sen-sible side.

  Oh, shut up, her irritated side responded eloquently.

  And then Billy Kong came into the room and proceeded to irritate Holly even further. He glided across the floor like a pale, hair-gelled ghost, circling Holly silently several times before speaking.

  “Tell me something, demon. Can you peel off your face?”

  Holly met his eyes. “With what? My teeth? Hands tied, moron.”

  Billy Kong sighed. Lately, everyone under five feet seemed to think it was their prerogative to give him verbal abuse.

  “You probably know I’m not supposed to kill you,” said Billy, teasing his hair into spikes. “But I often do things that I’m not supposed to.”

  Holly decided to crack this human’s confidence a little.

  “I know that, Billy, or should I say, Jonah. You’ve done a lot of bad things over the years.”

  Kong took a step back. “You know me?”

  “We know all about you, Billy. We’ve been watching you for years.”

  This wasn’t strictly true, of course. Holly knew no more about Kong than what Foaly had told her. Perhaps she wouldn’t have baited him if she’d known about his demon history.

  To Billy Kong, this simple statement was confirmation of everything Eric had told him. Suddenly the building blocks of his beliefs and understandings toppled and smashed beyond repair.

  It was all true. Eric had not lied. Demons walked the earth, and his brother had tried to protect him and paid with his life.

  “You remember my brother?” he asked, his voice shaking.

  Holly presumed that this was a test. Foaly had mentioned a brother.

  “Yes. I remember. Derek, wasn’t it?”

  Kong pulled a stiletto knife from his breast pocket, gripping it so tightly his knuckles whitened.

  “Eric!” he shouted, spittle spraying from his mouth. “It was Eric! Do you remember what happened to him?”

  Holly suddenly felt nervous. This Mud Man was unstable. It would only take her a second to escape from these bonds, but maybe a second was too long. Artemis had requested that she remain bound for as long as possible, but from the look on Billy Kong’s face, it seemed that staying bound could be a fatal mistake.

  “Do you remember what happened to my brother?” asked Kong again, waving the knife like a conductor’s baton.

  “I remember,” said Holly. “He died. Violently.”

  Kong was thunderstruck. Reeling internally. For several moments he circled the room muttering to himself, which didn’t comfort Holly any.

  “It’s true. Eric never betrayed me! My brother loved me. He loved me and they took him!”

  Holly took advantage of this lack of focus to escape from the plastic ties binding her wrists. She did this using an old LEP trick taught to her by Commander Vinyáya back in the Academy. She rubbed her wrists against the rough edge, causing two small grazes. When magical sparks erupted from her fingertips to heal the wounds, she siphoned off a few to melt the plastic, enough for her to yank her way out.

  When Kong faced Holly again, she was untethered, but concealing the fact.

  Kong knelt before her so their eyes were level. He was blinking rapidly, and his pulse beat in a temple vein. He spoke slowly, in a voice fraught with barely repressed madness and violence. He had switched to Taiwanese, his family’s first language.

  “I want you to peel off your face. Right now.”

  This, reasoned Kong, would be the final proof. If this demon could peel off her face, then he would stab her in the heart and damn the consequences.

  “I can’t,” said Holly. “My hands are tied. Why don’t you peel it off for me? We have new masks now. Disposable. They come off easily.”

  Kong coughed in surprise, rocking back on his hunkers. Then he steadied himself and reached out shaking hands. His hands did not shake from fear, but from anger and sorrow that he had dishonored his brother’s memory by believing the worst of him.

  “At the hairline,” said Holly. “Just grab and pull. Don’t worry if you tear it.”

  Kong looked up, and they made eye contact. This was all Holly needed to employ the magical fairy mesmer.

  “Don’t those arms feel heavy?” she asked, her voice layered and irresistible.

  Kong’s brow suddenly creased, and
the creases filled with sweat.

  “My arms. What? They’re like lead. Like two lead pipes. I can’t…”

  Holly pushed the mesmer a little harder. “Why don’t you put them down. Take it easy. Sit on the floor.”

  Kong sat on the concrete. “I’m just going to sit for a second. We’re still doing the face-peeling thing. But in a second. I’m tired.”

  “You probably feel like talking.”

  “You know what, demon. I feel like talking. What should we talk about?”

  “This whole group you’re involved with, Billy. The Paradizos. Tell me about them.”

  Kong snorted. “The Paradizos! You’re only dealing with one Paradizo here. And that’s the girl, Minerva. Her daddy is just a money man. If Minerva wants it, Gaspard pays for it. He’s so proud of his little girl the genius that he does whatever she says. Can you believe that she convinced him to keep the whole demon thing quiet until after the Nobel council gets a look at her research?”

  This was very good news. “You mean that no one outside this house knows about the demons?”

  “Hardly anybody inside the house knows. Minerva is paranoid that some other egghead will get ahold of her work. The staff thinks we’re guarding a political prisoner who needs his face redone. Only Juan Soto, the chief of in-house security, and myself were told the truth.”

  “Does Minerva keep records?”

  “Records? She writes everything down, and I mean everything. We have records of every demon action, right down to toilet breaks. She’s got every twitch on video. The only reason that there’s no cameras down here is that we weren’t expecting anyone.”

  “Where does she keep these notes?”

  “A little wall safe in the security office. Minerva thinks I don’t know the combination, but I do. Bobo’s birthday.”

  Holly touched a skin-colored microphone pad glued to her throat. “A wall safe in the security office,” she said clearly. “I hope you’re getting that.”

  There was no reply. Wearing an earpiece had been too risky, so Holly had had to make do with the mike pad on her neck and an iris-cam suckered like a contact lens over her right eye.

  Kong still felt like talking. “You know, I’m going to kill all of you demons. I’ve got a plan. Real clever, too. Miss Minerva thinks that she’s going to Stockholm, but that’s never going to happen. I’m just waiting for the right moment. I know that silver is the only thing keeping you in this dimension. So I’m going to send you back, and give you a little present to take with you.”

  Not if I can help it, thought Holly.

  Kong half smiled at her. “Are we doing the face-peeling thing? Can you really do that?”

  “Of course I can,” said Holly. “Are you sure you want to see it?”

  Kong nodded, slack jawed.

  “Okay, then. Watch carefully.”

  Holly raised her hands to her face, and when she took them away, her head had disappeared. Her body and limbs quickly followed suit.

  “Not only can I peel off my face,” said Holly’s voice from thin air, “I can do my entire body.”

  “It’s true,” croaked Kong. “It’s all true.”

  Then a tiny invisible fist swished through the air, knocking him into unconsciousness. Billy Kong lay on the concrete floor, dreaming that he was Jonah Lee once more, and his brother stood before him saying, “I told you so, bro. I told you there were demons. They murdered me back in Malibu. So what are you going to do about it?”

  And little Jonah answered: “I’m working on it, Eric.”

  Minerva accepted the phone from the security guard.

  “Minerva Paradizo speaking.”

  “Minerva, this is Artemis Fowl,” said a voice in perfect French. “We met once across a crowded room, in Sicily.”

  “I know who you are, we nearly met in Barcelona, too. And I know it’s really you. I memorized your voice pattern and cadence from a lecture you gave on Balkan politics two years ago at Trinity College.”

  “Very good. I find it strange that I haven’t heard of you.”

  Minerva smiled. “I am not as careless as you, Artemis. I prefer anonymity, until I have something exceptional to be recognized for.”

  “The existence of demons, for instance,” prompted Artemis. “That would be exceptional.”

  Minerva gripped the phone tightly. “Yes, Master Fowl. It would be exceptional. It is exceptional. So you can keep your Irish paws off my research. The last thing I need is for some bigheaded teenage boy to hijack all my work at the last second. You had your own demon, but that wasn’t enough. You had to try and steal mine, too. The moment I recognized you in Barcelona, I knew you would be after my research subject. I knew you would try to smoke us out, have someone hide in the car. It was the logical thing to do, so I booby-trapped the vehicle. You knocked out my baby brother, too. How could you?”

  “Apparently I did you a favor,” said Artemis lightly. “Little Bobo is obnoxious by all accounts.”

  “Is that why you called me? To insult my family?”

  “No,” replied Artemis. “I do apologize, that was juvenile. I called you to try and make you see sense. There is much more at stake here than a Nobel Prize, not to belittle the prize, of course.”

  Minerva smiled knowingly. “Artemis Fowl, whatever your pretence, you called me because your plan failed. I have your demon, and you want her back. But if it makes you feel better, please proceed with your good-of-humanity speech.”

  Outside, on the bluff overlooking Chateau Paradizo, Artemis frowned. This girl reminded him a lot of himself eighteen months ago, when achievement and acquisition were everything, and family and friends were secondary. Honesty, on this occasion, actually was the best policy.

  “Miss Paradizo,” he said gently. “Minerva. Listen to me for a few moments; you will feel the truth of what I say.”

  Minerva tutted. “Why is that? Because we’re connected?”

  “Actually, we are. We are similar people. Both the most intelligent person in whatever room we happen to be in. Both constantly underestimated. Both determined to shine brightest in whichever discipline we pursue. Both dogged by scorn and loneliness.”

  “Ridiculous,” scoffed Minerva, but her protestations rang hollow. “I am not lonely. I have my work.”

  Artemis persisted. “I know how it feels, Minerva. And let me tell you, no matter how many prizes you win, no matter how many theorems you prove, it will not be enough to make people like you.”

  “Oh, spare me your amateur psychology lecture. You’re not even three years older than I am.”

  Artemis was injured. “Hardly amateur. And for your information, age is often detrimental to intelligence. I have written a paper on the subject in Psychology Today, under the pseudonym Dr. C. Niall DeMencha.”

  Minerva giggled. “I get it, senile dementia. Very good.”

  Artemis himself smiled. “You are the first person to get that.”

  “I always am.”

  “Me too.”

  “Don’t you find that tiresome?”

  “Incredibly. I mean, what is wrong with people? Everybody says that I have no sense of humor, then I construct a perfectly sound pun around a well-known psychological condition, and it is ignored. People should be rolling in the aisles.”

  “Absolutely,” agreed Minerva. “That happens to me all the time.”

  “I know. I loved that Murray Gell-Mann kidnapping a quark joke that you did on the train. Very clever analogy.”

  The congenial conversation ground to a frosty halt.

  “How did you hear that? How long have you been spying on me?”

  Artemis was quietly stunned. He had not meant to reveal that fact. It was most unlike him to chatter on about trifles when there were lives at stake. But he liked this Minerva girl. She was so similar to him.

  “There was a security camera in the compartment on the train. I procured the tape, had it enhanced, and read your lips.”

  “Hmm,” said Minerva. “I don’t remember
a camera.”

  “It was there. Inside a red plastic bubble. Fish-eye lens. I apologize for the intrusion of your privacy, but it was an emergency.”

  Minerva was silent for a moment. “Artemis. We could have a lot to talk about. I haven’t talked this much with a boy in…well, ever. But I have to finish this project. Can you call me again in six weeks?”

  “Six weeks will be too late. The world will be a different place and possibly not a better one.”

  “Artemis. Stop it. I was just beginning to like you, and now we’re back to where we started.”

  “Just give me one more minute,” Artemis insisted. “If I can’t convince you in a single minute, then I will hang up and leave you to your research.”

  “Fifty-nine,” said Minerva. “Fifty-eight…”

  Artemis wondered if all girls were so emotional. Holly could be this way, too. Warm one moment and icy the next.

  “You are holding two creatures captive. Both sentient. Neither human. If you expose either one to the wider scientific community, then their kind will be hunted down. You will be responsible for the extinction of at least one species. Is that what you want?”

  “That’s what they want,” retorted Minerva. “The first one we rescued threatened to kill us all, and possibly eat us. He said that the demons would return and wipe out the human scourge.”

  “I know all about Abbot,” said Artemis, using what he had learned from Minerva’s own surveillance cameras. “He was a dinosaur. Demons could never take on humans now. Judging by my temporal calculations, Abbot was whisked ten thousand years into his own future and then sent back again. Declaring war on demons would be like declaring war on monkeys. In fact, monkeys would be a bigger threat. There are more of them. And anyway, the demons can’t even fully materialize unless we shoot them full of silver.”

  “I am sure they will find a way around that. Or one could get through accidentally, just like Abbot, then open the gates for the rest of them.”

  “Highly unlikely. I mean, really, Minerva, what are the odds?”

  “So, Artemis Fowl wants me to forget all about my Nobel project and turn my demon captives loose.”

  “Forget the project, certainly,” said Artemis, checking his watch. “But I don’t think there is any need for you to set your captives free.”