Archive of Our Own ^beta

“BOO!”

Candela had expected her target to scream and cower, perhaps jump if she was lucky, but all she got was an unimpressed glare and a flashlight’s beam being directed at her face. She raised a hand to block the offensive ray, nose wrinkling.

“Was that supposed to be scary?” Blanche inquired, raising a brow as they shifted the flashlight’s beam back down to the ground.

“Well, yeah!” Candela huffed, blinking a few times to clear her vision of the lingering afterimage before climbing out of the shrub and out onto the path. She pouted fiercely for both her strategy to spook her stoic coworker not going as planned and the fact she’d somehow managed to get sticker burrs on her on jacket in the few moments she’d been hiding. Damn, it was gonna take forever to get them all out!

Blanche, naturally, seemed completely unaffected by the whole affair. They studied her with a blank expression, intelligent eyes glittering fiercely in the moonlight. They looked… very pretty like this, she supposed, but it wasn’t like she was going to be telling them that anytime soon. It was likely going to be one of those secrets she took with her to the grave – like that one time she’d burnt her bangs with her straighter or when her older brothers, Epifanio and Sol, had convinced her to kiss a Politoed.

(She ignored the pang that shot through her chest at the thought of her family.)

“Why are you here, Candela?” they asked, squinting at her suspiciously.

“I could ask you the same thing!” she said, crossing her arms, “I caught you sneaking out! It’s dangerous to walk the streets alone at night, you know, and the Professor’s gonna be pissed if he finds out you went off by yourself without backup.”

“I have plenty of backup,” Blanche snapped, gesturing to their belt. Well, at the four Pokeballs attached to their belt. She hadn’t seen them before. “My team is perfectly calibrated for my intentions.” They lifted their chin, features shifting into a more smug expression. She tried not to find it cute and failed miserably.

“And what exactly are your intentions, huh?” Candela jeered, leaning closer to them uncrossing her arm so she could put her hands on her hips, “It’s not like you to break curfew!”

Their face fell and they bit their lip, shifting uncomfortably as she stared them down. “That is, well, because,” they stammered, glancing away from a brief second before offering haltingly, “You have heard of the reports this week, correct? The ones that have the Professor concerned?”

Candela searched her memory and tried not to grimace when it came up noticeably short. “Er, I could stand a refresher?” she said.

They met her eyes, some of their earlier haughtiness returning to combat her hesitance. “There are strange, unexplained occurrences in this part of the city. Trainers and Pokemon alike are disappearing and rumors are pouring in of bizarre noises and images around one location in particular: an abandoned manor on the northern outskirts. It was slated for demolition earlier this month, but none of the attempts have been successful. There have been… accidents. Escalating ones.”

“Accidents? Escalating ones?” Candela echoed, alarmed, “Is everyone okay?” The look Blanche sent her told her all she needed to know. “Geeze, that’s awful.”

“Yes,” Blanche agreed, somber for a moment before they rallied, “I intend to assist the Professor in getting to the bottom of the situation. I have analyzed all the reports and have a suitable plan. It should be relatively simple to complete my report, but to do so I’ll need to get close enough to confirm which form of Ghost-type has taken root in the area, after which subjugation should be easy. The fact that it’s caused so much damage means it must be quite dominant – likely a second or even third-tier evolution.”

As always, their expression brightened when they talked about Pokemon evolution, an intense eagerness lighting them up from within and softening their features to the point they seemed to glow. The moonlight silvered their hair, making them seem all at once ethereal and enigmatic.

Candela couldn’t help but grin in the face of their enthusiasm.

“Okay, great! Why couldn’t you have just told the Professor and let him handle it?” she asked, “You know, the one person that likely could take on soloing a powerful Pokemon like this?” In truth, she was surprised at her own forethought. But if the last few years had taught her anything, it was that the Professor was the dependable sort of man that was more than willing to do his part.

She admired that about him, really, and did her best to emulate that behavior as best she could. Well, she was trying to.

(Lucifel had always told her she could count on Willow…)

“The Professor is a busy man, Candela,” they replied quickly, their eyes taking on an oddly fervent gleam. “We are his assistants, are we not? It is our duty to make his life easier and assist him in completing tasks that are far too menial for his limited time.” They nodded sharply, perfectly assured of their own opinion.

‘Right, and that look on your face totally doesn’t scream ‘I wanna see it for myself’ to the high heavens!’ Candela thought, snorting derisively. Still, she could appreciate the sentiment – for more reasons than she cared to admit. Her entire life had been nothing but a long line of attempts to prove herself to those whose opinions matters to her, the last of which curled and burned along her thigh, a promise of freedom at the cost of everyone she held dear.

“Fine, fine,” she sighed, putting her hands up in mock-surrender, “Let’s go catch a spook and help the Professor out.”

“Yes, let’s go-” Blanche said, taking one step forward before stopping and turning back to her, frowning slightly, “Wait a minute, I don’t recall inviting you.”

“Yeah, because I did the honors and invited myself!” she replied cheerily, winking at them, “You’re welcome.”

“Candela,” they snapped, exasperated already, “This is going to be tricky enough as it is. I don’t want to have to worry about you falling behind or getting hurt. It will really impede my ability to survey the area and gather suitable data on the Pokemon.”

“You don’t have to worry about me! I’m tough!” She even flexed a bit to make her point. Hm, perhaps she should unzip her jacket a bit to make the display more impressive? It wasn’t like she got cold these days anyway.

“The toughest part of you is your head,” they muttered, shaking their own in disbelief, “You aren’t even prepared! You only have one Pokeball that I can see and that is very likely your Eevee.”

“Eevees are good against Ghost-types, though!” she defended.

“They’re immune to Ghost-type attacks, yes,” Blanche acquiesced stiffly, “I’m surprised you remembered that.”

She lifted her chin defiantly, trying to remind herself the barb hadn’t actually been meant to sting quite as badly as it did. They might’ve even meant it as a compliment for all she knew. “Fighting’s my thing, remember? It’s one of the reasons Professor Willow wanted me as his assistant!” That wasn’t completely true but, well, if her coworker was allowed to keep some secrets, then she was going to hold onto a few of her own.

“I know how often you fight, Candela,” they said, sounding like they would very much like to roll their eyes at her, “Fighting while keeping typing match-ups in mind, however, is a new skill you have not been shown to possess.”

“So? That’s never stopped me before,” Candela pointed out, “C’mon, Blanche. We both know I’m not going to let you skulk around the backstreets by yourself. If it’s as dangerous as it seems it’s going to be – don’t give me that look, it’s pretty damn obvious and you basically admitted it already! – then you’re gonna need someone to watch your back. Luckily for you, I just so happen to be available and willing to help.”

There was a pause.

“You want to help me?” Blanche asked slowly, brows furrowed, “Truly?” It seemed like they were genuinely surprised.

“Uh, duh?” she said, quirking a brow at their sudden mood shift, unable to stop herself from adding, “You obviously need protecting since you’re so noodly and all.” She could see the moment her supposed light-hearted teasing cut them a little too deeply because their face darkened faster than an incoming storm.

“I don’t need you!” they spat, hands curling into fists, “Go back to the facility, Candela. I can handle this on my own!” Their unexpected hostility made her want to take a step back, but, as usual, she stood her ground.

“You might not need me but you’re stuck with me all the same!” she shot back, glowering at them, “I am not going to let you go alone.”

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Go home!”

“No!”

“Yes!” Blanche hissed.

“No!” Candela growled, feeling a bit like a first grader on the playground.

Their argument was interrupted when Blanche’s pager beeped suddenly and the two of them jumped, both looking as the surface of the little accessory lit up.

Blanche brought it close to their face, frowning as they read whatever the screen showed. After a moment they looked over at her, expression torn between annoyance and consideration, then huffed dispassionately. “Ugh, I don’t have time to argue with you!” they proclaimed, turning away from her and stomping down the path in a way that was still far too elegant, “Come or don’t – I don’t care. I refuse to lose this opportunity to your insufferable stubbornness.”

“Yeah, that’s totally the way to make someone want to help you,” Candela grumbled, huffing out a gruff sigh before darting after them and falling in step with her grudging companion a moment later.

The two assistants walked together the rest of the way in a tense silence. Blanche occasionally checked their pager, the subtle shifts in their expression that she caught out of the corner of her eye both intriguing and confusing her. Candela kept herself busy by attempting to pick as many of the sticker burrs off her jacket as humanly possible. In the short time they’d been attached to her, it almost seemed like they had multiplied.

She considered trying to strike up a conversation to break the tedium, but ultimately decided against it. She also decided against bringing out Ares from her ball but that was mostly because Blanche still had their Eevee in his pokeball and she didn’t want to deal with the whining.

Before long the houses and buildings around them took on an older, less polished appearance, and Candela felt herself getting more and more anxious as time went on. The houses seemed to stoop and arch away from one another and the alleyways grew larger as a result, the shadows in them darkening to the point she couldn’t make out just what innumerable foes might be lurking in their depths. A few times she thought she caught a glimpse of a Pokemon’s gleaming eyes staring at her from the gloom, but didn’t get the chance to get a second look for how quickly her companion wanted their forced march to proceed.

Blanche stopped suddenly and Candela nearly tripped in her attempt to react at the same time. “Hey!” she snapped, glaring at them, “A little warning would have been… nice…” Her words got lodged in her throat as she started at the house they’d stopped in front of.

It was roughly the same era as the buildings around it, the dingy paint and period-appropriate architecture telling its age easier than anything else. There was a large iron-wrought giant that stood between them and the overgrown-yet-somehow-also-dying front lawn, the tall, thick metal bars rusting and chipping. She feared it would blow over if she breathed on it too hard, yet also got the feeling that if a terrible storm blew through and destroyed everything in a 5 mile radius, this house would still be standing – dignified and decrepit until the end of time.

Yes, there seemed to be an aura to the residence. A presence that demanded her attention and that she should feel compelled to respect the crumbling appearance and the overall feeling of decay and rot.

“What is this place?” she breathed, rubbing at her arms without thinking, suddenly aware of a chill, “It’s giving me the creeps!”

“Naturally,” Blanche said drily, giving her a dull look as they gestured pointedly to the various ‘Do Not Enter’ signs she’d overlooked. There were even a few roped off areas with demolition equipment parked off to the side. They scoffed when looking at the machines (while she stepped back upon recalling the accidents and the missing people) continuing drily, “Did you expect a Ghost-type Pokemon to linger in a carnival? Or perhaps a shopping mall?”

“I would’ve preferred those locations, yes,” she replied, frowning at them. They looked totally unflappable, as per usual. “Why aren’t you even a little bit spooked? Aren’t Ghost-types all AOE-y?”

Blanche stared at her blankly. “AOE-y?”

“‘Area of Effect’,” she said primly, smug in the fact she knew something they didn’t (for once). They didn’t need to know her knowledge came from playing an unfortunate amount of video games with her older brothers.

(There was another pang in her chest, and she ignored it just like the last one.)

“Ah, I see,” they said, and she could literally see them writing the term down in their mental journal, “Then, yes. Most Ghost-types tend to have that sort of ability. I’m not… as easily ‘spooked’ as most people, I suppose. I’m sure it’ll start to have some affect me once we truly enter its sphere of influence, but that is a given with most anyone.”

“Well then,” Candela said, gesturing to the gate, “Let’s hop to it! I wanna see you get all scared! I bet you’re a crier.”

“I am not!” Blanche snapped, glaring at her.

They totally were.

Candela just smirked at their glower, hands on her hips. Blanche looked away after a minute and the two went back to studying the gate once more.

There was a long pause.

“Well?” she asked finally, because patience had never been her greatest virtue, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Blanche’s expression twitched slightly, tongue flicking out to moisten their bottom lip. The motion was just distracting enough she almost missed them saying, “You open it.”

“What?”

“I got us here,” they said, crossing their arms as they turned to look at her, their chin lifting as their voice adopted that stupidly superior tone they’d been trying out lately, “So you get to open the gate. It’s only fair, right?”

“Oh heck no!” she exclaimed, mirroring their posture, “This is your crazy idea!”

“You wanted to help. What’s the matter?” they jeered, “Is the great and mighty Candela scared of a little gate?”

Logically, she knew they were baiting her and that it would be incredibly dumb to even consider giving the idea the time of day. Suicidal, even, if the reports Blanche had mentioned actually held any weight. Unfortunately, she rose to the bait faster than a starving Magikarp and shoved open the gate before she had even processed what she was doing. The doors swung open with a haunting ‘skeeeeeerrrrtttt’ that make her blood chill and skin crawl.

“There,” Blanche said calmly, stepping through the opening, “Was that so hard?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Candela growled under her breath, following them quickly.

“Death threats are just childish, Candela,” Blanche replied tonelessly. They paused, slinging one strap of the backpack on their back off their shoulder so they could rummage through it. A notepad and pen were retrieved, their owner quickly scrawling something on one of the pages as they glanced around the yard.

She suddenly got the feeling someone was watching her from the dark, but a quick look around found no one in the vicinity. “If this ghost doesn’t do us in first, I’m gonna kill you,” she repeated, continuing with more conviction when they merely snorted, “And I’m gonna make it look like an accident.”

“Is that so?” was the only reply she got as Blanche zipped up their bag once more and returned it to its intended position. They moved further into the yard, following what appeared to have once been the front walkway. The bricks had been cracked and rearranged, some having obviously been filled in with incorrect replacements, leaving no clues as to what its original pattern may have once been.

Candela grumbled under her breath and stomped after them. “‘Oh no! Poor Blanche! That stupid ghost took them, Professor. I barely escaped with my life!’”

“As amusing as it is to peer into the kiddie pool that is your imagination,” they replied, “We still have to actually get into the house for your attempts at homicide to have any chance of holding up in court.”

 “And how exactly do you plan on getting inside?” Candela wondered, waving an arm around, “Look at this place. I seriously doubt they’ll have left the door wide open for a bunch of punks or squatters to hang around. So, unless you somehow have the key in that bag of yours, I suggest we just-”

“You’re trembling, Candela.” Blanche said it so calmly, but when she caught their gaze, she saw concern there.

“N-No I’m not!” she protested. But, when she looked down at herself, she saw a tremor in her hands even she couldn’t deny. Candela tried curling them into fists, squashing her uneasy at how fast her heart seemed to be racing. The burned scar along her leg positively itched. “What the hell…”

“It has to be the Pokemon,” Blanche said decisively, “For it to be affecting you so strongly this far out, its area of effect is much larger than previously anticipated. Given your unique status as a Bonded, I’d thought you would be more protected from- Ah, it doesn’t matter.” They paused to check their pager again, frowning at what they saw. “We should get moving. Once the entity notices us, I’m sure things will far worse.”

“I’m not scared!” Candela burst out, face flaming when they simply looked at her.

“No?” they replied, tilting their head, “I never said you were.”

“You thought it!”

“Funny, Candela, I wasn’t aware Moltres had given you psychic abilities.”

“So you admit it!” she said, lifting her chin, “I’m really not. I don’t know why I’m shaking like this but I’m seriously- seriously not, okay? Scared, that is.”

“As I said, you are experiencing a Ghost-type Pokemon’s influence. Nothing more,” Blanche replied, turning away from her and heading further onto the property, Candela hot on their heels as they wrote a few more notes in their journal with one hand before returning it to their backpack and bringing out their flashlight once more.

The pair paused at the first step of the front porch, Blanche swinging their flashlight in a wide arc.

The house was not particularly inviting – less, now that they were closer. The windows had a dark tint to them that even their flashlight’s beam couldn’t seem to penetrate. Anything could be lurking the in the gloom. The porch itself seemed to droop from the years it had seen, a few of the floor boards splintering and all of it covered in a layer of grime. There were footprints that has scraped away at the filth to replace it with some far more recent dirt and grass clippings and mud.

“The demolition crew had access to the property,” Blanche murmured, “Protocol dictates that the lead foreman would have sole responsibility of and access to the keys. They would likely not leave them unattended outside of the corporate office.”

“So they’re not here,” Candela surmised, frowning, “How are we gonna get in, then?”

Instead answering, Blanche simply reached into their pocket and pulled out a small, slim box. They put a foot on the porch, grimacing with it creaked loudly, then rallied and carefully strode toward the door. It was an old, ugly thing with peeling paint and an archaic knocker set in the gaping maw of a roaring Arcanine. The other teen dropped to a knee in front of it then opened the box in their hand, revealing a set of pins and hooks.

“Lock picks?!” Candela laughed, disbelieving, “Holy Miltank, you really were raised by Rockets!”

Blanche tensed and turned their head to glare back at her viciously. “Keep it down,” they hissed, frowning, “And my upbringing is none of your concern.”

“Woah, sorry, didn’t realize it was a touchy subject,” she replied, raising both hands placatingly, “I just- You’re all prim and proper! You don’t seem to be the type to have a set of lock picks in the first place.”

“I didn’t realize you knew me well enough to make such a comment.”

Ouch. Could their voice get any colder? “Who even taught you to do that, anyway?”

Blanche didn’t answer, focusing instead on getting the door open. Candela could see the stiffness in their shoulders and the way their jaw was clenched hard enough that their teeth were probably creaking from the stress. There was a pang of regret in her chest. Should she try apologizing again? No, no, they’d told her to keep quiet – which had been a little rude, now that she thought about it. Could they really blame her from being surprised?

They’d known each other a couple of years now and they were still little more than strangers.

There was a sudden ‘click’ that shattered her train of thought, followed by a pleased noise from her companion. “That was easier than expected,” they said, putting away their set and slipping the box back into their pocket. They even brushed off their pants as they stood, grimacing fiercely at the dark splotches on their knees.

Candela had to force herself not to laugh.

“How’d you know it didn’t have an alarm system?” she asked instead, eyeing them as they put a hand on the door knob.

“Police reports are public information,” they said simply, twisting the knob and pushing at the door. The hinges let out the screams of the damned as the door slowly, painfully creaked open. Both of them winced at the noise and let out matching sighs of relief when it finally stopped.

But, afterwards, it seems like the whole world had turned off the sound – no humming of street lamps, no rustling of wild Pokemon. Nothing.

If the windows had been dark, then the inside of the house was like a void. A shiver crawled up Candela’s spine as a small breeze seemed to emanate from the house – like it was exhaling – a cool, clammy thing that made her immediately break out in a cold sweat. Her anxiety made Moltres come the fore: a pinching, prickling of flame licking along her consciousness and gazing through her eyes to inspect whatever was going on before receding without so much as a comment.

If the Titan was only merely curious, then it couldn’t be that bad, right?

Blanche didn’t wait for her to collect herself decide to move forward, taking a brave step into the darkened foyer. The darkness swallowed them instantly, a phenomenon Candela was sure was as disconcerting to experience as it was to watch. She didn’t have the luxury of pondering that fact, though, and quickly followed them inside.

Well, it was certainly dark.

“Blanche?” Candela asked, feeling like the walls were watching them, a dark, heavy presence all around her. Not even the open door behind her could shed much light. She held out a hand, searching through the gloom for her companion. Her fingers found nothing but air, and her heart rate spiked. “Blanche?!”

“I’m right here,” came a calm voice to her right, and if she let out a little squeal, no she didn’t.

Whirling to face a beam of light, once again shining right in her face, Candela reached out and found Blanche’s arm. “Don’t go running off on your own!” she said, trying for a scolding tone and likely only sounding shaken, “Can your flashlight get any weaker? How can I protect your scrawny butt if I can’t see it?”

“Don’t blame my flashlight for your poor eyesight,” Blanche replied, scoffing. Still, they found her hand and pressed a metal cylinder into it.

After a moment of fumbling she found it had an on switch and promptly blasted her eyes again with a beam of light. “Oh, fuck, ow! Again? Seriously?! Where’d you even get this one, anyway?”

 “I brought a spare,” Blanche said by way of explanation, shrugging when she turned the weak beam on them.

“And you didn’t think to give it to me before because?”

“I wasn’t planning on having company in the first place.”

“Well,” Candela said, sniffing indignantly, “Is there anything else in that magic bag of yours I should know about? Some Repels might handy if we’re not ready for a fight right out of the gate.”

Blanche looked at her in surprise, blinking in the light of her flashlight. “You might have a point there. I…” They paused to swallow, ducking their head so she couldn’t see their expression. “I hadn’t considered the possibility of using Repels to mitigate the Ghost-type Pokemon’s influence sphere.”

“Hey, it’s okay!” Candela said quickly, trying to keep her voice light, her mood somewhere between disappointment at the lack of gear and delight at having her stoic coworker admit they weren’t as perfectly prepared as they’d claimed. “I’ve been doing a lot of field stuff lately while the Professor’s had you staying in the labs, right? It’s just it was at the forefront of my mind. They might not have even worked, anyway.”

Blanche grit their teeth again and nodded once. Visibly rallying themselves, they straightened and looked forward into the dark of the house, eyes narrowed and probing. “We need to explore as much as possible. The Pokemon could be anywhere and we need to verify that-”

They were cut off by what had to be one of the most terrifying noises in the world: the door slamming shut behind them followed by what sounded eerily like a little girl’s giggle.

“Oh goodie,” Candela said, licking her lips, “It’s gonna play with us.”

“Well, that rules out some of the species, then,” Blanche said, casting their flashlight’s beam around them before taking a few steps further out of the entryway, “While most Ghost-types are dangerous, a select few enjoy playing with their prey before truly hunting them. Good. This means we’ll have more time to study it.”

“Great, I love being toyed with by something I can’t see or punch,” Candela muttered drily, validated when she saw the corner of Blanche’s lips twitch up briefly. She didn’t, however, enjoy the feeling of something’s eyes on her, sizing her up from the supernatural gloom. “Hey, Spooky! Mind letting us see a little better? It’ll be more fun if we’re not stumbling over ourselves!”

“Candela,” Blanche said, exasperated, “I sincerely doubt that-”

And for the second time in as many minutes, they were cut off by the Ghost-type Pokemon’s flair for dramatic. Lights flickered on around the room, maybe even around the house, letting off an eerie glow from their dusty bulbs. It wasn’t much, but at least it helped them get a guesstimate of where the walls were.

“Thanks, Spooky!” Candela called, grinning boldly at her scowling companion. Her cheer was immediately soured when she felt an icy cold finger stroke the back of her neck, more girlish giggles emanating from all around the room when she whirled around with a surprised yelp. She clapped a hand on the back of her neck, breath coming out in a jittery, almost hysterical half-laugh.

“You shouldn’t have encouraged it,” Blanche noted, an air of superiority entering their tone as they stepped cautiously further into the main room and inspected the lone grand hallway that took up a significant portion.

“Hey, I got us more light!” Candela argued, her indignation tempered by her new found anxiety as she swung her flashlight around the room and followed closely in Blanche’s footsteps. “Those giggles could be a clue. Do you think it’s really the ghost of a kid… or is it just messing with us?”

Blanche hummed quietly, reaching out to run a finger along the railing of the stairs and wrinkling their nose at the streak that was left behind. “It’s possible. Ghost-types can come to be in a myriad of ways and from an equally ambiguous amount of sources. As such, I believe it’s still too early for us to be making any assumptions.”

That last part felt a bit pointed but Candela held her tongue.

The unlikely pair made their way through the lower floor slowly. It was honestly a little boring if one ignored the constant feeling of being watched. And the occasional breathing on the back of their necks. And the sound of footsteps one room over, muffled and distant yet somehow always getting closer.

The main room had a few pieces of furniture covered in protective cloths, the thick layer of dust on the floor having been disturbed by the workers at some point in the recent past. The walls began bleeding while they were inspecting the couch, the blood pooling on the ground and spelling out ‘TOO LATE TO RUN’ followed by small, bloody footprints running directly at them before heading off into the gloom.

That at least got a small gasp out of Blanche and scream out of her. She also unintentionally tried to climb her partner in her panic to get away from the unseen force storming around the room.

“S-Scared yet?” Candela asked, breathless and trying not to be.

“Not at all,” Blanche replied, scowling at her fiercely as they tugged on the straps of their backpack. “Please refrain from molesting my person in the future.”

“I didn’t-” Candela began to protest, cutting herself off with a bite to her lip. “Fine.”

Blanche turned their flashlight on her again, studying her face with their cold, calculating green eyes. “You are free to leave at any point, you know. As I’ve said numerous times, I don’t require assistance in this.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, frowning at them, “I’m not leaving you here to face Spooky alone and you know it. So quit trying to insult me and let’s get a move on!”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you, but very well,” Blanche said after a moment, turning their flashlight back on the floor and the blood that was no longer there. “Going forward, I cannot guarantee your safety in this house. This Pokemon has proven to be quite proficient in illusions and trickery thus far. It is most certainly a powerful creature.”

“Any ideas on what we’re dealing with yet?” she asked hopefully.

“I always had some inkling based on my research,” they replied, moving away from the couch and toward the direction the footprints had disappeared to, “But it would be foolish to speculate until we have more evidence.”

Next up was apparently the dining room. It had no table but had 13 chairs all arranged as if the missing centerpiece was still there. There were cobwebs on the chandelier, the bulbs flickering at random intervals, the whole thing swinging in an unseen wind. The sense of being watched was stronger in here for some reason.

Creepy, but not enough to send them running for the hills.

Last of all was the kitchen. It was the cleanest of all the rooms so far - only a little dust here and there and the floor somewhat swept. The workers had apparently come through and used the sink in their off time as there were a few mugs and cups scattered along the countertops. It also stank to the high heavens.

“Oh, Arceus,” Candela groaned, covering her nose as they entered, “Who left their lunch here to rot? What is that smell, anyway? A ‘karp and moldy cheese sandwich?”

“A dead body, most likely,” Blanche informed her from behind their own sleeve, eyes crinkled with disgust, “Possibly from watching its own corpse decay over a span of months or years. Still, this is good data. It proves that not only can this Pokemon conjure audio and visual effects, but olfactory ones as well. Truly remarkable.”

“That’s disturbing as hell, Blanche,” Candela said with a horrified shudder.

“Ghost-types are hardly a type for the weak-willed or weak-stomached, Candela. Their very existence goes against what most would consider the natural order of things,” they said, sounding very sincere and solemn despite the fact they were still hiding behind their sleeve and, if her eyes weren’t deceiving her, turning a bit green from the stench.

She scoffed then (carefully) inhaled and bellowed, “Hey, Spooky? Knock it off or we’re gonna barf on your floor!”

A great gust rushed through the room immediately, howling like a maelstrom had been unleashed within the house. She reached out and grabbed one of Blanche’s hands, tugging them closer to her and attempting to put herself between them and wherever the origin of the ominous wind was. Moltres rose to the fore of her mind once again and made her aware of a set of eyes peering at the two of them from the doorway.

“There you are!” she snarled, letting go of Blanche and starting toward the specter, her own eyes glowing a telling scarlet in her annoyance turned blind rage. She chased it back through the other two rooms, ignoring Blanche’s calls for her to stop.

At some point she gotten close enough to just barely make out the fact the Pokemon had taken on the form of a tall person, its footstep not making any sound even as it stayed ever so slightly out of her reach. She considered reaching down and calling Ares from her Pokeball to tackle the Ghost-type Pokemon but immediately recalled that physical moves would do nothing against an incorporeal being.

Professor Willow would be so proud of her using her head for once.

She jumped over the side of the couch once they made it to the living room, shoes leaving sizzling scorch marks on the protective cloth. The Ghost-type Pokemon looked over its chosen form’s shoulder, eyes wide as she gained a significant amount of ground on it for that act alone.

“Get back here!” she yelled, frustrated as it dodged one of her burning fists. “What are you afraid of?!”

The ghost suddenly turned around in the main room, catching her off guard as she fully took in what it looked like for the first time.

Dark skin, darker curly hair, golden eyes dulled by death.

A smile like the sun splitting a little too wide.

“Lucifel?” she gasped, feet skidding on the dirty floor as she was suddenly thrust into the past.

The scent of flesh burning.

Fire everywhere, smoke choking the air.

Everyone is screaming.

Brilliant blue eyes stare into her soul and find her worthy.

Then the ghost of her brother was gone and all that remained was an open doorway and a set of stairs heading down into an increasing dark that she was already tipping forward into, too fast to do anything but brace herself for the inevitable painful fall. Her flashlight went flying out of her hand and fell down the stairs, bouncing on a few before its light shattered and went dark for good.

Moltres was screeching in her head but she couldn’t pick out a single coherent thought or emotion from it.

A fist clenching the back of her sweater and tugging back, hard, is the only thing that saved her from a broken neck. She still fell to the ground, her right ankle twisting in a way that it probably shouldn’t, but her savior remained standing above her, panting heavily with a flashlight aimed directly at her face.

“It appears,” Blanche said slowly, trying to steady their breathing, “That this Pokemon has been studying us as much as we’ve been studying it.”

“Did you see it?” Candela asked, choking on too many emotions to name.

“See what? The Pokemon?” Blanche replied, shaking their head when she nodded, “No, I was too far away. Whatever it showed you, don’t concern yourself too much over it. It’s just doing what it seems to do best – sowing fear and chaos into the hearts and minds of its victims.” They held out a hand to her after a moment, fingers wavering in the gloom from the beat of a too-fast heart.

“Why isn’t it scaring you?” she complained, still breathless and trembling, taking their offered hand with no small amount of desperation. It was warm. They were alive - they both were. She hoped they wouldn’t comment on how sweaty her palms had become, and was beyond relieved when they didn’t even seem to notice.

“I was raised by a woman that had an untrained Haunter as a companion,” they explained tonelessly, pulling her back up with surprising ease, even going as far as to pluck a bit of dust out of her hair, “Tricks and illusions lost their effects on me long ago. Besides, there’s not much it can do here to… to…” They trailed off, staring past her, their shock only noticeable by the slight parting of their lips and the way their eyes widened.

“Blanche? You okay?” she asked, biting her lip as they paled right before her very eyes.

‘Don’t turn around, Candela,’ the logical part of her brain said, ‘Whatever they’re seeing, whatever’s freaking them out, you don’t want to know!’ But she’d never been one to listen to the logical part of ANYTHING and took a deep breath before whirling around, wincing when her ankle protested to motion. Moltres hadn’t settled down from its hissy fit to fix that for her yet it seemed.

Standing there, in the middle of the beam from Blanche’s flashlight, was-

“Holy shit!” Candela exclaimed, her head whipping back to her companion, “It’s mimicking you now? How is that supposed to scare us?” She couldn’t help the choked, almost hysterical bark of laughter that rose from her throat.

Her disbelief was enough to shake Blanche out of their stupor. “That’s not me, you idiot,” they snapped, looking away, “Honestly, Candela, you should know better than that.”

“What? Then who…” She trailed off, blinking once the answer had become clear. “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” Blanche said, lips pressing into a thin line as they shifted the straps to their pack into a more comfortable position on their shoulders. “It’s nothing to worry about. Things just got more interesting is all. We can continue on - if you’re not too injured?” They peered over at her, green eyes dark and flat once more.

“I’m fine,” she assured them hastily, glancing between them and the specter’s latest form, “Are… are you?”

“Of course.” Their reply was short, clipped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Blanche,” Candela said, throwing out an arm emphatically toward the specter’s latest form, “Maybe because this thing has decided it wants to parade around as your twin? I saw you get all pale and stiff so don’t try to deny it. That asshole has already done enough damage to you and I refuse to let some second-rate copy hurt you more because of it!”

“You don’t get to call them that!” Blanche snapped, scowling at her, “Furthermore that form will not be able to rattle me and- and the fact you have such little faith in my abilities is extremely insul-”

“Blanche?” said a voice, so very similar to their own, and the two assistants flinched. They turned as one and saw the specter had moved closer, an odd expression on its face. “My little Blanche?” it tried again, a sly smile spreading on its mouth when Blanche shivered and took a small step back.

“It can mimick audio,” they murmured, licking their lips nervously, “Or is it advanced enough to form its own sentences?”

“I’m very smart!” the Ghost-type Pokemon replied unprompted, tilting Noire’s head, green eyes glowing in the gloom, “Is that so strange?”

“Oh hell,” Candela cursed, lips pulled back into a snarl as she got between the two, her spine positively tingling at the delighted expression on the doppelganger’s face, “This can’t be good.”

 “It’s nothing,” Blanche said through gritted teeth, spine stiffer than a Sudowoodo as they addressed the specter directly for the first time, “You cannot use that form against me, I’m afraid. I know for a fact they are not dead. Anything beyond that is just folly and will not deceive me.”

“A challenge,” the Pokemon said, gleeful laughter in its echoing voice, “I like those. They’re fun!”

The false image of Noire rose up from the ground, all pretense of being among the living – or, at least, still bound by gravity – completely thrown away. It flew towards them, giggling as they dove away from each other to avoid its path. It phased through the wall just above the open door, its maniacal laughter fading as it went completely through, the door slamming shut almost immediately.

“The hell?” Candela growled, wincing as her ankle protested her remaining standing, ‘Is it running away?”

“I should think not,” Blanche replied, their flashlight scanning the wall here the Pokemon had disappeared.

There was a beat of calm, the house and all its inhabitants holding their breath.

And then-

The whole house seemed to pulse, the wall in front of them bulging and rippling, the ancient wallpaper warping from the strain. Wooden beams along the floor and ceiling creaked, the air in the room dipping from uncomfortably cool to downright freezing. Candela glanced to her left and saw Blanche staring at the wall, transfixed, both of their breaths puffing out in sudden steam.

Then she turned back to the wall and immediately wished she hadn’t.

A pair of hands reached back through the peeling paint, fingers growing blackened talons as they seemed to claw their owner out of the wall, a head with long white- short curly brown- some grotesque combination of the two pulling through followed by a set of shoulders and a decimated torso. It looked down at them, eyes pale and glassy with death, a long tongue flopping out of its broken-jawed mouth as its teeth grew long and sharp. Its paper-thin skin began peeling and flaking off in real time as it opened its maw wider and let out an unholy screech.

“Candela!” Blanche yelled, looking at her with wide eyes as the specter dug itself further from the wall, “RUN!”

They didn’t have to tell her twice - Moltres was already screaming itself hoarse in her head about having fixed her ankle, you’re welcome, now get the lead out you foolish little girl-! She immediately turned tail and ran away from the new monstrosity, finding the grand staircase in the gloom and taking the stairs two at a time.

Her only solace was that she heard Blanche right on her heels.

The second floor of the house turned out to be a hallway of living quarters. At least, that’s what she assumed because when she opened the first door she came across, it was to a dusty, cramped room filled with various bit and bobs. Some of the main attractions were a mattress against the wall, a piano with half its keys missing, antique chest of drawers halfway disassembled and leaning perilously close to a table covered in cracked fine china.

Candela didn’t have the luxury of wondering if she’d be safe from the Pokemon here. She ran inside – barely remembering to close the door behind her as she did so. It was only after she’d wedged herself between the sagging mattress and the broken piano that she realized that Blanche hadn’t followed her into the room.

“Shit,” she hissed, blood thundering in her ears and making it difficult to hear. She wasn’t even certain the ghost would give them the common courtesy of footsteps as it moved around. To make matters worse, she no longer had the flashlight Blanche had loaned her so it was her normal eyesight against the supernatural gloom. A thought occurred that honestly should’ve been the first thing she considered when she entered this Arceus-forsaken place.

‘Moltres?’ she asked, concentrating hard enough that her head throbbed, ‘Mind helping me out here? If you can, of course. No pressure.’

‘Of course,’ came the reply, slithering through her thoughts like campfire smoke, ‘All you had to do was ask.’

Candela’s eyes stung briefly and she winced as she blinked, but her vision cleared enough for her to make out a bookcase on the far wall next to a shattered mirror, a few of the broken pieces scattered on the floor and reflecting the tiniest amount of moonlight that managed to creep in through the grimy windows. There was a thumping on the door that made her flinch, the mattress shifting on the wall and falling further on top of her head. Wonderful.

Her blood, burning from the Titan’s power coursing through her to improve her sight, seemed to turn to ice when she heard the click of the doorknob turning in its socket, the hinges protesting as they were forced to move once again. She saw a figure in one of the mirror shards standing in the doorway, eyes gleaming in the gloom from the hallway. Then, the figure stepped into the room then leapt up off the floor, hands and feet contorting as they clawed at the wall and ceiling as it crawled around there instead on the floor.

The specter sniffed the air loudly, tongue flicking and dripping dark saliva on the ground, its mismatched hair hanging from its scalp as it moved closer to her hiding spot.

“Candela,” crooned the monstrosity, its voice somewhere between Noire and Luifel’s, “Come out, little sister.”

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, to taste the smoke that came after as Moltres immediately healed her. Her entire body was quaking, shivering in fear that was only partially her own, and she hated herself for feeling even the smallest amount of it. She clenched her hands into fists and pressed them over her mouth, trying desperately to slow her racing heart and panicked breaths.

“I can smell you,” the Ghost-type Pokemon informed her casually, claws raking paint off the ceiling as it moved around, “Your fear - it smells different. Warm. Powerful. I want it in my belly!” Yet for its words it didn’t seem to be getting closer to her anymore, hovering over the chest of drawers with an odd look of misery on its grotesque face.

There was a loud noise out in the hall and the creature span around, scrabbling to remain clinging to the ceiling as it lunged for the doorway, mouth stretched once again into an unholy shriek. There were more noises – someone shouting something that sounded like ‘scald’, maybe? – followed by several thumps down what she could only guess was the stairs.

There was only one person that would bring Water-types to a Ghost fight.

“Blanche!” Candela gasped, worming her way out of her hiding space frantically. She staggered out, shoes crunching the glass shards even further as she ran for the doorway, heart hammering in her chest for a different reason. “Blanche, where are you? Are you okay?”

A hand caught her shoulder as she passed through the doorframe and she turned on her would-be attacker, fist burning a burning red as she slammed it into the wall, missing the other person by millimeters thanks to catching the glint of green in their eyes. And the beam of a flashlight shining directly in her face for the umpteenth time that night.

“Well,” Blanche said coolly, swallowing harshly as they eyed the burning hole in the decrepit wallpaper, “I’m fine, I suppose, thanks to your poor aim.”

“My aim is fine!” she spat, relief pouring through her sass, “You’re just lucky I can pull my punches!” Without another word, she caught them in a fierce hug, releasing them just as quickly when she realized what she’d done. They’d been stiff in her arms, anyway.  “You attacked the creepy Ghost, right? Where’s your Pokemon? I need to give them all the praise in the world.”

“Marshtomp has returned to his ball,” they replied, dusting off their arms where she’d grabbed them, scowling at the ash they found there, “He’s not fond of the dark.”

“After tonight I can’t really say I blame him.”

“Nor can I.”

Candela blinked at that and stared at her stoic companion. They ignored her, instead adjusting the straps on their backpack again with strange fervor. She wanted to ask, but the set of their mouth told her that would be a bad idea.

“So,” she said slowly, tilting her head when they glanced at her, “Is Spooky down for the count now?”

The answer came in the form of a screech from the bottom of the stairs. Blanche gave her a withering glare for her apparent bad timing and she cursed under her breath. They snagged her wrist and dragged her down the second floor hallway, passed several doors that had seen better days until they arrived at one that seemed no different than any of the others. Candela nearly smacked into them regardless.

“Here,” Blanche said, glancing back down the hall as the sound of angry thumping up the stairs had begun to sound, “Look at the floor. Nothing has disturbed the dust here.”

“So?” Candela asked, her heart racing once more. “What’s that got to do with-”

“Think, Candela,” they snapped, scowling at her as they rummaged through their backpack for something, “Whatever the Pokemon is protecting is beyond this door – hence why nothing living has been allowed to enter.”

“What makes you think it’s protecting anything?”

“Instincts are a powerful motivator. It’s the only explanation for its behavior and the viciousness of its attacks,” they replied, fumbling with the slim box of their lock picking set in the gloom. They let out an aggrieved ‘No!’ when it fell out of their grasp and clattered on the ground, breaking open and scattering the various hooks and picks all across the filthy ground.

“Here, let me,” Candela said, shoving them away from the door as she brought a fist down on the doorknob. It wobbled viciously, the wood cracking around it. She did it twice more against Blanche’s protests until the entire doorknob came flying out of the door.

It bounced and rolled down the hall form the force of her strike, soaring passed the specter just as it crested the stairs. It shrieked at them, dead eyes widening in rage as it started for them, its form shifting wildly and becoming too monstrous to describe.

“In in in!” she squealed, kicking in the door and shoving Blanche in before her. They grunted but went willingly – not like they had much of a choice. She followed immediately and used her shoulder to slam the door shut behind them but had little hope it would offer them a few milliseconds of safety.

What they found in the room stopped them both in their tracks.

It was a dark room with a large, unlit fireplace against the far wall. An ancient Pokemon sat in an old rocking chair by one of the cleaner windows, its chest rattling with each breath. The Alakazam, male based on the length of mustache, opened one eye to stare at them with a dark, intelligent eyes dulled by severe cataracts. His hand twitched on the arm of the chair, spoons laying listlessly in his blanket-covered lap.

“What-” Candela began, and the nearly jumped out of her own skin when she heard the Ghost slam against the door behind her.

“No!” screamed the specter, clawing at the wood but somehow unable to open the door on its own despite the very large hole left by the doorknob no longer being in place. “You awful people! Leave Benji alone!”

“Benji?” Blanche breathed, looking from the door back to the Pokemon who now stared at them with both eyes wide open. It gestured for them to approach wordlessly, the other hand clenching one of its spoons with a tell-tale glow that now matched the glow all around the room – door included.

“You’re protecting us?” asked Candela, swallowing when the Pokemon nodded once then gestured for them to come closer once more, this time far weaker than before. Its eyes fluttered and the room dimmed briefly, the protective psychic force field flickering ever so slightly and making her hair stand on end.

Blanche was the first to move, walking cautiously toward their protector and occasionally glancing back to the door as the Ghost-type continued to rage and howl just outside.

Candela shook herself out her stupor just in time to catch their arm, glaring at the Alakazam. “Wait,” she said, “What if it’s a trap? They could be working together!”

“If he was going to let us die,” Blanche replied, snatching their wrist out of her grasp, “He wouldn’t have gone through the effort of shielding us from his comrade in the first place. Look at him – this is obviously taking a great deal of energy.” With that, they stalked off toward the Pokemon once more, their short ponytail bouncing with every step.

She just cursed under her breath, looking suspiciously at the Psychic-type Pokemon as she cautiously approached. Moltres simmered close to the surface, drawn in by her distress and her need to see. It didn’t offer any comment or advice, and she didn’t bother asking for any.

The two of them arrived to stand by the chair at roughly the same time and stared down at the Pokemon sitting in it with very different expressions. He truly was ancient – there was way more white in his mustache than the standard gold and, in general, he just seemed to be fragile in the way that only the very old seemed to be. His spoons, something that most of his kind prided themselves in, were old and a bit dull.

“Benji?” Blanche asked, bending closer to it, “Why are you helping us?”

He held out his hand in answer, palm up, to both of them. The pair shared a glance, then they both reached out and the world went white. Time seemed to have stopped, or at least been severely slowed down. The world around them was bright but hazy – no longer dark and gloomy, but filled with the light of several memories of sunny mornings overlapping.

“I apologize,” Benji said, young again in a way he wasn’t in actuality, “But this is the only way I can converse these days.”

“You can talk too? What-” Candela began, blinking and scowling when her vision wouldn’t clear beyond a few feet in front of her. She also realized that she couldn’t move her body at all beyond blinking and breathing, her hand frozen in the palm of the Pokemon before her.

“I understand,” Blanche replied, glancing around the white space with obvious interest, “But, surely this takes a toll on you.” It wasn’t even a question.

“It does,” he said, his expression somber, “But I fear I will not get another chance. You two are the first to ever make it this far. Tara usually lures the visitors to the basement to keep them from finding me and, well, I’m sure you’re aware of a Ghost-type’s prerogative when it successfully captures its prey.”

“Tara? That thing has a name?” Candela sneered, annoyed by her inability to emote properly. Among other  things, of course.

“Candela!” Blanche scolded, sending her a fierce side eye.

“No, no, I understand,” Benji said softly, closing his eyes briefly, “Tara hasn’t been herself since the house was assigned for demolition. This is all she knows, in both life and death. She’s scared what will happen to us once the house is no more and thus has gotten it in her head that she must prevent progress – no matter what the cost.”

“People have died because of her!” Candela exploded, scowling, “Good people! Don’t you get that?”

“I do.”

“And you’re just okay with it?”

“The morals of people and Pokemon are often different,” Benji said, looking at her with such compassion that she felt a bit cowed, “I believe the great Titan that has chosen you would agree that protecting those you care about, no matter what the cost, is something that both groups can actually agree on.”

“You- That’s not-” she sputtered, indignant, but bit her lip when she felt Moltres’ somber agreement.

“You refer to your companion as ‘Tara’ when most wild Pokemon do not care to name themselves,” Blanche said, ignoring Candela completely as they stared with extreme intensity into the Pokemon’s eyes, “Can you explain that?”

Benji nodded, closing his eyes one more. The world around them span, colors and light merging until a cloudy series of scenes took shape.

The first was of a young girl, bright and happy with long black hair, laughing as she chased a young Abra around her room. The Pokemon would teleport just as she was about to catch him, appearing once more on the other side. He seemed to be smiling just as widely as the young girl, eyes open just a sliver so he could make sure to let her close enough to hug him at least once.

Next was of the young girl and the Abra sitting on the porch, and unhappy scowl on the girl’s face as she watched a group of other kids pay in the snow. Her complexion was paler than the world around her, dark circles hanging low under her eyes like a deep bruise. The Abra drifted closer to her, pointing into the snow as he carefully spelled out his message: Tara & Benji BFFs. That got a smile out of the young girl.

Then, back in the bedroom, the girl coughing weakly as she lay in bed, the two shadowy figures of her parents standing in the background. An old Hex Maniac sat next to her, her long hair streaked with grey and white yet still containing slivers of black strands. She murmured softly as she held onto the girl’s hands, fingers trembling as she shed silent tears when the little girl’s eyes slid closed for the final time. Benji, now a Kadabra, stared at the dark orb of power that hovered, unseen or unacknowledged, just above the little girl’s headboard.

The memories flew by faster, less individual and more sliding from one instance to the next.

As the parents grew older and passed away, other relatives came to live in the house. They were not happy to learn the dwelling still had a young mistress and her ever-loyal attendant, but, well, it was their house and the pair wasn’t likely to share with greedy people. Still, some brave souls manage to be allowed to stay and the house is filled with light once more.

The pair served as great caretakers for the children of the house. Tara kept intruders from overstaying their welcome and Benji helped take care of the littlest ones. They provided entertainment, gentle discipline, and constant surveillance.

Years passed in a blink of an eye and Tara, now a Haunter, noticed that her companion’s health was fading. Benji was an Alakazam, yet more and more often he slept in endless dreams like an Abra, sometimes without warning. After a particularly bad collapse, she locked him up in her old play room on the second floor, scaring everyone out of the house for several weeks as her anguished wails echoed through the halls.

And yet, he still slumbered on, aware only distantly about the world that continued to spin beyond his ageing mind.

The house turned cold and empty. Tara brought Benji food that he could no longer stomach eating, managed to keep him alive by siphoning some of the energy she got from hunting other Pokemon in the dead of night. This went on for years as the house fell apart around them.

People came, then, with axes and trucks and instruments of destruction. Tara flew off the handle, beyond incensed as she learned their house, their home, was destined to be destroyed out from under them. Benji could no longer walk, was barely still living the first time she killed a human. It was an accident – she’d only meant to scare him away from the second floor when he fell down the stairs, his neck twisting in a way it shouldn’t.

Benji woke up for the first time in decades that night when she fed him some of the worker’s energy.

And thus began the horrible cycle. Tara would taunt her prey throughout the house, careful to keep them from the second floor, stealing all their energy as they succumbed to their fear in the depths of the basement. She never killed them directly, couldn’t bear the thought of causing actual harm, but a human heart could only take so much fear and anxiety before it quit working. Benji would be fed their energy, slowly becoming more aware of the horrors of reality but being powerless to stop his young mistress- his best friend’s rampage.

The memories faded as Benji let out a tired sigh.

“Arceus,” Candela muttered, “That was trippy a hell.”

“Thank you, Benji,” Blanche said softly, their eyes shining in the bright memory space, “I understand the situation much better now.”

“Can you help her?” he asked, voice exhausted beyond normal means, “Can you take her from this place safely? I know it is a lot to ask of you, considering what she’s put you and everyone else through, but I-”

Benji stopped to clear his throat with a wince, the world around them flickering wildly for a moment.

“We can try,” Blanche said, worrying at their bottom lip with their teeth, “Though, I cannot promise she will be happy. She has blood in her ledger and many trainers will not want to deal with the legal ramifications of owning such a dangerous Pokemon. It is likely she will never be set free again – especially once we report our findings to the Professor.”

“Probably for the best,” Candela added, wishing she could cross her arms. Her heart hurt for the pair of Pokemon, probably more than was normal, but she couldn’t just brush off the horrible deaths of the inspectors and demolition crewmen who had just been trying to do their jobs. “Those memories only proved to me that she needs to be watched over. Constantly. So she can’t hurt more people.”

“Tara is a victim of circumstances beyond our control,” Benji replied, his eyes sad, “But I understand. If she is allowed to live and smile freely, that’s all I have ever wanted.”

Blanche seemed stunned for a moment. “You truly care for her.”

“Of course,” the Pokemon replied, smiling forlornly, “We’re best friends forever.” He then curled forward with a pained groan, the bright world around them flickering wildly. It revealed the state of the real room, paused for the moment as they were speaking and existing at the speed of thought, but it seemed the door wouldn’t last much longer even with the psychic shield.

“What’s wrong?” Candela asked, worry choking her throat.

“He’s using too much energy speaking to us. Keeping Tara out of here is making things worse,” Blanche surmised, frowning at the languishing Pokemon, “Benji, you need to let us go. We can handle ourselves now that we know what we’re up against.”

“Let us help you,” Candela said, gritting her teeth for a moment before adding, “Both of you.”

With labored breaths, Benji looked up at them. He studied both of their faces, expression twisted with pain and regret, then nodded once. Then the world around them shattered and the three of them were harshly cast back into the stark gloom of reality. Blanche stumbled and Candela immediately reached out to steady them, but their hands were already dropping their flashlight and reaching for the Pokeballs on their belt and she realized, belatedly, she should’ve probably done the same.

The door to the room crashed in on itself, little more than splinters now, and Tara entered with a wild cry.

She’d shed the monstrous form she’d used prior, instead revealing her true state as surprisingly small Haunter, her eyes and mouth wide with rage and fear. Her shifting, gaseous form rippled in agitation, her disembodied hands with three clawed fingers floating, outstretched, in front of her body as if to carve Candela and Blanche out of existence.

“Get away from him!” she cried, voice echoing.

“Come, Marshtomp,” Blanche called, pointing their Pokeball into the distance between them and the Ghost-type, their Pokemon coming out immediately with a challenging roar. Marshtomp was large for his kind, feet landing with a heavy ‘thump’ as he stomped in place. He’d already knocked Tara back once this night –  but who knew if he’d get that same critical chance again.

“Ares, let’s kick some spooky butt!” Candela yelled, her own Pokemon jumping out of her ball the moment her hand touched it on her belt. Ares growled at the Ghost that had stopped short at the sight of other Pokemon, her fur bristling so much she almost looked like a Flareon for the extra bulk.

“Get away from him!” Tara repeated, trying for commanding but sounding more petulant that anything, her blind rage disengaged now that she’d processed she was outnumbered and that her prey had intentions of fighting back for real.

“No,” Blanche replied, their voice taking on that cool surety that made Candela grin viciously to hear, “We need you to get away from him. Marshtomp, use Scald.”

Marshtomp didn’t hesitate. A stream of steaming water burst from his mouth and while Tara tried to dodge, it still managed to splash her fully on one side. She let out a shriek of rage and pain, hands scrubbing the water off her form as much as possible. It hadn’t been a direct hit, but it still seemed to have done some damage if the dark splotch on her side and the pained wince on her face was anything to go by.

“Nice!” Candela cheered, “Great hit, Blanche!”

“Of course it was,” they replied, never taking their eyes off their opponent, “Scald has 100% accuracy.”

“Right,” she said, nodding her head, “I knew that!”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I did!” she insisted, scowling at them before throwing out a hand, flustered and trying not to be, “Ares, use Swif- uh, no, wait, use Shadow Ball!”

Ares glanced over her shoulder then followed the order. A dark orb of wraithlike energy formed in front of her, dancing around the Eevee briefly before shooting off and colliding with Tara in a roaring inferno of spectral fire. The Ghost-type Pokemon let out another howl in reply, tongue hanging out of her mouth as she thrashed around angrily.

Speaking of anger-

Blanche whirled on her, their nostrils flaring. “Did you almost try to use a Normal move on a Ghost-type?”

“Hey, I didn’t in the end!” she protested.

“Only because your Eevee is smarter than you,” they replied, eyes narrowed, “You’re extremely lucky she didn’t hurt herself in confusion!”

Their bickering was cut short when Tara decided it was finally her turn to attack. Shadowy power coalesced in a ring around her and she smirked as she released a horrible aura imbued with dark thoughts. The orbs of malice darted around the room, most dissipating on the walls and windows with a fizzling hiss. Unfortunately, both Marshtomp and Ares were hit directly, the poor Pokemon letting out noises of shock and pain.

“Dark Pulse,” Candela hissed, wincing in sympathy.

Blanche didn’t waste any time. “Marshtomp,” they said, eyeing their Pokemon with the subtlest hint of concern, “Use Scald.” But Marshtomp was too busy trembling from the last attack that when he went to use his move, he flinched and was unable to produce even so much as trickle. They clicked their tongue but offered a soft “It’s alright” when Marshtomp looked back at them with a guilty expression.

“C’mon, Ares, shake it off,” Candela cheered, nodding when the Eevee literally shook herself and peeked back at her, “That’s my girl! Use Shadow Ball again!” Ares preformed the move flawlessly, the ghostly fire swirling around Tara and making her shriek once more.

“Annoying! Annoying!” The Ghost-type Pokemon complained, almost whining, pointing at the little spitfire of an Eevee, “You’re so annoying!”

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” Candela taunted, smug at all the damage her and Blanche’s Pokemon had inflicted. She’d always loved battling – it got her blood pumping like nothing else and getting the upperhand over her opponents was one of her favorite activities. It was one of the reasons she was researching (with Professor Willow’s guidance) ways to enhance Pokemon's natural power in the pursuit of true strength.

“If I can’t win,” she seethed, a sphere of purple and black churning light and mist hovering in front of her, “Then neither can you!”

“Candela,” Blanche called out, their eyes wide, “That’s-”

“A Destiny Bond, I know!” she replied hurriedly, “Dammit!”

If Ares got affected with that, then the next move Marshtomp made against Tara would also hurt her as well – probably fainting the poor Eevee as a result since he was quite strong for a second-tier evolution. That’s why his home region used his species as starter Pokemon for young trainers, after all.

Tara cackled as she activated the move, the ghastly orb in front of her splitting into two and swirling around her, dark flames licking her stomach from the ground as the curse took effect. Then, ignoring the battling rotation the trio of them had fallen into, she summoned a very familiar ball of dark energy.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Candela protested, only to be ignored by the Pokemon as she flung the ball directly at Ares.

There was blur of motion then, a flash of gold and brown and white catching her eye before the orb exploded in spectacular fashion with whatever it hit. Wisps of dark, spectral energy filled the air and slowly dissipated, revealing Benji standing opposite his long-time, forever, best friend. He held his ancient spoons at the ready, his mustache quivering with the strain just to remain standing.

“Benji?” Tara asked, sounding all at once like the little girl she had once been, “What- What are doing?”

The other Pokemon didn’t seem to respond for a moment, frozen in place by indecision or pain from having taken the Shadow Ball directly. Then his eyes rolled back in his head as he slowly listed to the side and fell to the floor, his spoons clattering on the uneven floor boards.

“Benji!” Candela and Blanche cried as one, racing over to the fallen Pokemon, the battle for their lives forgotten out of concern for the elderly Pokemon.

“He’s still breathing,” Blanche said, putting a hand to his neck to feel for a pulse, “And his heart, it’s, well. Weak but fluttering. That’s not good.”

“You think?” Candela snapped, anxiety making her already short patience nonexistent, “You got anything in your backpack that could help? Potions maybe? Or, hell, a Revive might work best.”

“Those would only be temporary solutions,” Blanche countered, tugging off their backpack regardless. Their expression was stiff but cracking as they gently brushed a strand of Benji’s moustache off his face, “It’s his entire physical condition that’s the root of his suffering. A Pokemon of his advanced age should not have been in battle – it’s deemed inhumane to even try. As such, it… is unlikely he will wake from this faint.”

“So why did he-?” Candela began, voice trembling with disbelief and myriad of other emotions, only to pause when she heard sniffling. She turned her head to see Tara, floating nearby, large tears flowing down her face and dripping onto the floor with an ectoplasmic ‘plop’.

“Benji,” she sobbed, covering her face with her two disembodied hands, “Benji, you big meanie! You promised!”

“What? What did he promise?” Blanche asked, slowly rifling through their backpack in search of something. What they pulled out made Candela grit her teeth but she nodded to them resolutely when they glanced her way. It was now or never, no matter how she felt about it.

“That he wouldn’t leave me,” Tara cried piteously, “I-I don’t want to be a-alone!”

Just then, a gentle breeze swept through the room, sparkling and light and smelling of morning dew. A thought, so faint it could’ve been mistaken for something intrusive, pressed itself into all of their minds. ‘Live well,’ it said, resonating in Benji’s mellow tones, ‘Live well and be loved.’

And then, Benji was gone, his body following his soul into the land beyond and leaving nothing behind.

Unlike Tara, he would not be lingering it seemed.

Tara’s wailing grew louder, her sobs seeming to shake the rafters. Candela flinched when she felt a cold nose nudge her elbow and looked over to see Ares standing next to her, one of Benji’s spoons in her mouth, her dark eyes glittering sadly. She glanced over at a quiet “Oh” from Blanche to see their Marshtomp offering them the other spoon and their forgotten flashlight, his normally cheerful expression downcast with the quiet grief that all living things share when faced with another’s mortality. 

“Thank you, Ares,” she murmured, taking the spoon from her partner. She held onto it, her throat tight as she looked over at Blanche. If she saw their eyes glittering with silent, unshed tears – no, she didn’t. Just like her own vision definitely was blurring around the edges.

“Tara, come with us,” Candela offered after a long moment of mourning, her voice softening at the inconsolable Pokemon, “And you’ll never be alone again.”

“What?” Tara asked, taking her hands offer her face and staring at them both, her expression twisting when she caught sight of the Pokeball in Blanche’s hand. “No,” she said petulantly, “I refuse to become a pet!”

“Is that what Benji was to you?” Candela snapped, “Did you see him as pet?”

“No!”

“Then what makes you believe the trainer you may come to be with will view you that way?” Blanche asked, their voice level and cool, “People and Pokemon form partnerships based on mutual trust and respect. That is how it is meant to be. The Go Program, an organization that we both work for and report to, doesn’t allow for anything less.”

“Benji asked us to help you,” Candela pressed on, “Like, he told us to take you from this place. I believe he wants more for you than to hide away in a decaying house that everyone is too afraid to visit.”

“It’s likely you’ll be put in the care of a Hex Maniac,” Blanche continued, nodding, “They are Ghost-type specialists that-”

“I know what they are!” Tara said, sniffling as she rubbed at her face, her gaseous form rippling in agitation, “My granny was one. She always said that Ghosts were misunderstood, that they had the biggest hearts of all the Pokemon and people were just afraid of things that could understand life and death better than them.”

“Do you think you could stand being with a Hex Maniac, then?” Candela asked, glancing at Blanche out of the corner of her eye and seeing them clenching their hand around the Pokeball in preparation for whatever her answer would be. Yes or no, they were getting her captured and taking her out of here for the Professor – she’d almost forgotten that was the whole point of this fraught adventure.

Tara’s face went through several emotions, grief stringing through all of them as common undercurrent, before settling on resigned but hopeful. “Will I really be okay?” she asked in a quiet voice, wringing her hands nervously.

Candela hesitated, offering an uncertain, “I’m sure you will find someone to get along with.”

The Ghost-type Pokemon frowned at the waffling answer but nodded slowly, tears slowed to a trickle from her eyes as she looked at both trainers below her.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll come with you. It’s what Benji really wanted, after all.” She floated closer to Blanche, inhaling a deep, quivering breath before she gently touched the Pokeball they held out with one clawed finger. She was immediately transformed into a beam of red light and sucked into the little device. It wiggled once, twice, three times before clicking shut properly – indicating a safe catch.

Both Blanche and Candela let out a breath neither had realized they’d been holding.

“We did it,” Candela said, laughing a little in disbelief, “Holy shit, we actually did it!”

“Yes,” was all Blanche said, staring at the Pokeball in their hand, the other holding onto Benji’s spoon. They sniffed once after a moment, carefully clicking the ball onto their belt before gesturing to their Pokemon. “Come, Marshtomp, I have a Potion for you,” they murmured, rifling through their backpack again.

“Oh, do you have a spare? I need to heal up Ares before I recall her, too,” Candela said, smiling when her counterpart held out the item to her wordlessly. It was no Max Potion based on the color, but anything was better than nothing after the night they’d all had. “Come here, pretty girl!” she cooed at her Eevee, shaking the canister at her, “I’ve got something for you.”

Ares tolerated the Potion with all the grace and humility of a prima donna, mouth pinched in displeasure as the healing balm was misted lightly over all her injuries. She seemed more than happy to be returned to her ball, likely planning on a nice nap after the events of the evening. Candela mentally reached out to Moltres, feeling its thoughts simmering in the back of her mind just as tendril of smoke belayed the danger of fire reignited.

‘You okay?’ she asked, standing and wiping off her knees as she watched Blanche recall Marshtomp and reformat the items in their backpack.

‘It always takes me by surprise,’ the legendary bird replied after a moment.

‘What does?’

‘How quickly and easily other Pokemon die.’

Candela scowled at that. ‘The same could be said for humans, you know.’

She felt more than heard the bird laugh. ‘Too true, little valorous one. Too true.’ There was a mix of emotions Candela sensed from that statement – wry amusment mixed with subtle grief and guilt. Then Moltres retreated fully from her mind, only the tiniest pinprick of awareness allowing Candela to reminded of their Bond.

She sighed heavily, crossing her arms as Blanche finally stood, their backpack firmly returned to its rightful place. They looked at her with a slight interest but she waved them off, picking her way through the dark toward the door. Even without Tara’s influence, it was still pretty dark from the grime on the windows – though now the supernatural lighting was also gone, leaving only the natural gloom.

The pair carefully skirted around the broken door and back down the hall in relative silence, following the weakening beam of Blanche’s returned flashlight. It lasted all the way until they reached the bottom of the stairs then finally sputtered out. Blanche and Candela shared a glance.

“Perfect timing,” Candela muttered, shaking her head, “At least we didn’t have to go down the stairs in the dark.”

“We were quite fortunate,” Blanche agreed, frowning slightly, “Though, surely the battery shouldn’t have been that low? We were only here for a few hours at most.”

“Paranormal stuff sucks the energy out a lot of stuff – batteries included,” she said, heading for the entryway, “Plus, I think I remember that dealing with Ghost-types can affect your view of time. Kind spooky if you ask me.”

“Where did you hear that?” Blanche wondered, brows furrowed as they followed close behind.

She paused, hand on the knob for the front door, and said softly, “My brother, Lucifel.” Her heart ached just to say his name, the image of his dead-self still fresh in her mind thanks to Tara’s abilities. How he had smiled at her even when he was burning alive, how he’d been burning for much long with their family’s expectations but he hadn’t let that stop him from loving her wholeheartedly.

Candela thought of families and siblings, then, and of the bonds of friendship that could last a lifetime and beyond. The ache in her chest grew worse when she recalled the desperate tears that sometimes fell from olive-green eyes, the hate she had grown to have for calls left unanswered and texts left unread. How awful it felt to be left truly and completely alone.

“Are you going to open the door or just stand there looking at it?”

She flinched badly at the sudden question and looked over her shoulder to get the beam of a flashlight in her face. Wincing as she shook herself out her reprieve, clenched her hand and fling open the front door.

Outside, not much had changed, with the exception of a much lighter sky – a medium blue growing lighter by the minute, pale gold and orange wisps of clouds striping along its celestial canvas and creating almost a candy-corn-like visage. A quiet mist hung low over the ground, unobtrusive and already fading from the rising sun’s still-weak light. A few early-rising Pidgeys were already singing the songs of their people somewhere in the distance.

Candela glanced at her companion to find them quickly shutting their mouth from what had been obvious gape of shock. Time and Ghost-types, right? A taunt rested on the tip of her tongue but she swallowed it down. Instead, she said simply, “Hey, Blanche? When’s your twin gonna visit next?”

“Why do you care?”

She shrugged. “Just curious.”

Blanche stared at her with a neutral expression for a moment, then they looked away before she could comment how their eyes seemed incredibly sad. “Noire,” they said stiffly, “Has said they don’t wish to visit me anymore outside of holidays and our birthday.” The words hung, suspended in the air between them, thin and vulnerable like a strand from a Spinarak’s web. Their meaning left no room to be misconstrued, however, and she felt her anger rise.

Candela blew out a breath, some of it steaming a little too much in the pre-dawn light, then threw an arm around the other teen’s neck. “Well!” she said brightly, “That just means I’ll have more time to train!”

Blanche scowled at her but surprisingly didn’t try to duck out from under her arm like she’d thought they might. “Train? For what?”

“Why,” she said, “To kick their ass for hurting my best friend forever!”