"Again?"

"Yes, Lou," he said, giving me a glance as if to say he was being very patient with me while giving a long suffering sigh inside his head. "You know I always go Trick or Treating on Halloween."

I made a sharp hiss under my breath, indicating my scorn before sitting on his desk, ignoring how he had to move his papers out of the way so I wouldn't sit on them.

"Nigel... you're seventeen now," I explained, keeping my tone gentle and doing my best to keep my frustration out of it. "You really shouldn't be out Trick or Treating, you know?" I drew in a breath, holding it, waiting for his argument, the same he gave me each year.

"I don't see a reason to stop," he answered, leaning back in his chair and looking up at me, absently wobbling his pencil between his fingers. "If the adults don't care, why should you?"

Sometimes, I swear, I loved Nigel closer than I might have any brother but he was so dense it was insufferable.

"How many teenagers do you see out in costume? Getting candy?" I waved my hand. "I mean, really, Nigel, have you thought about it?"

"Quite a few, actually," he countered, an easy grin sliding onto his face. "I think most of us just like the energy and excitement behind it."

My fingers curled, a tempting sensation of wanting to wrap around his throat fleeting but potent. Wiggling them, as if to shake it away, I slowly turned my head to the side, raising an eyebrow in what I knew to be a look of doubt. "You're dressed in a costume like all the other five to ten year olds getting candy." I tried to keep my voice as friendly as possible, not wanting him to grow angry with me but still wanting to get my point across. "The energy and excitement's probably from all the sugar you're ingesting."

He gave a half roll of his eyes, his right cheek puffing out a little before he released the breath of air and attempted to go back to work on the copying the math problems from his book to "show his work."

Stiffening my spine, not pleased with his evident dismissal of my arguments, I tried again.

"If you want to do something Halloweeny, you could at least go Ghost hunting with me."

"Got plans," he remarked, his voice sounding distant as he scratched something down on the paper.

"Trick or Treating is not 'having plans!'" I made little air quotes around the "having plans" part but he didn't even notice. Deciding to make one last attempt, I used my hands to gesture outward, as if offering a compromise... which I was. "Look, Nig, Trick or Treating starts at what, six? It goes about as late as eight, maybe nine?"

He looked up a moment and gave a nod, his head cocking as if interested in where I was going with this.

"Well, can't you join me after that?"

He grew thoughtful at that, leaning back in his chair, considering. The smile on my lips grew, though I worked on hiding it. Just as I thought he was going to accept, an odd look passed across his face, his forehead wrinkling for a moment as though he remembered something, then the wrinkle faded, as if he'd lost it just that quickly.

"What--?"

"Can't." He gave a quick shake of his head. "Sorry."

My right foot started bouncing irritably against my knee, my left foot twitching as I pursed my lips and pushed a tight breath through them. "Every year, Nigie!" His lips gave a small frown but I ignored it. "You could go with me once!"

"I don't see why you go every year," he countered, a small shard of glass in his voice as his pencil pushed harder to write his answers down on paper. "It's not like you catch anything!"

I was about to return and equally sharp comment when the teacher walked in. Rather than continue the argument and say something I knew I'd regret later, I twisted to sit properly in my seat rather than on Nigel's desk, smacking my ass so hard on the chair it made me wince. When he walked by, I asked Nigel something about the Pythagorean theorem, which earned me a tight-lipped frown from the teacher.

Made sense... as we'd learned it last year.

And this was Geometry.

...whoops.

=*=*=



"Hard-assed bastard," I grumbled, shooting Nigel a dark glare as his laugh quickly turned into a cough.

"What'd you expect? You were supposed to be studying." The grin he gave was wide, the earlier "fight" having been forgotten.

Before I could offer a dignified response, he gave a loud "Whoop!" noticing a pile of leaves in the walkway. Rushing forward, he gave them a great kick, sending them all spiraling into the air and twirling around in a rush of colors. While I appreciated his enthusiasm, I didn't share it. Really, Halloween falling on a Friday was nice, but the fact of it being a full moon was even better.

"He didn't need to give me extra work," I mumbled, shoving my hands into my pockets.

There was a hint of frost in the air, as if Articuno was somewhere nearby, ushering in the winter weather with the gentle flap of his wings. With that in mind, I should bring a sleeping bag and blanket tonight, least it get too cold. Speaking of...



"You're sureyou don't want to go?" All teasing and joking aside, I hoped he didn't notice the whine in my voice, wanting him to focus more on the straightforward way I was asking, hoping it might make him reconsider. "I found the best spot this year."

His head swayed as he walked, crunching leaves as he went, even going out of his way to step on the larger ones. "Yeah?" He didn't look up, but the interest in his voice was more of a response then I'd gotten all day. "Another abandoned house?"

"Nah, better."

I didn't say anything more, letting the silence swell, along with his interest. Finally, he turned his head.

"Alright, I give. Where?"

My fingers curled, my voice hushed so no one might overhear, even though I saw no one but us along the street. "A crypt."

That made his head jerk and his eyes met with mine. "Really?! Like... a graveyard?" His own voice was now a harsh whisper, as if the very leaves he'd kicked now scratched at his throat.

"Yeah." I lifted my head up a little, not hiding my pleasure at having finally gained his interest.

"Don't they lock those?"

I gave a leisurely shrug, deciding not to go into too many details with him. After all, if he really wanted to see, he'd come with me instead of his stupid candy run.

His lips puckered, displeasure as sour as a lemon on his face... but he didn't push. The expression slowly smoothed out, becoming thoughtful as he turned his attention upward. I followed his gaze, trying to see what he was looking for, but only noticing bared limbs of the trees we were passing by. Odd... it seemed like less than a week ago they were all wearing elegant green leaves... then changed into fall colors with a speed every woman should have envied, and discarded them like last years fashion statements.

"I..." His voice trailed off so I thought that I might be hearing things. "I might have something that can help you."

I turned my head so sharply my neck sent a flash of liquid fire along my neck in evident displeasure. Despite my hiss of pain, I managed to get out, "What?!"

He glanced away, scratching his cheek. "I'm not sure how effective it is, I've never used it before..." He looked back towards me. "But you should be able to use it, I think." He nodded towards the direction of his home. "Come on over, I'll let you borrow it. I was going to use it tonight, but I can find something else."

"You've never helped me before..." While I didn't want to sound suspicious, I found I couldn't help it. "Why now?"

"I just got it this summer, on our trip to Mt. Chimney," he explained, giving me a glance that meant he noticed my mistrust but wasn't going to call me on it. "Took a lot of effort, but it should help you find something. Can't guarantee it'll be a Ghost though."

"Something's better than nothing," I grudgingly admitted, not liking to acknowledge the truth in his earlier accusation. While I hadn't liked Nigel pointing it out, he was right. In all the years I'd gone hunting for Ghosts, I'd never found one. "What is it?"

He gave a quick shake of his head. "Not here, Lou. I'll give it to you when we get home. It's really special, not the kind of thing you just go around talking about."

The rest of the walk was continued in silence but I could have sworn there was a hum in the air. What was this object? A new Pokeball? No, that wouldn't attract anything. Maybe some Incense? I didn't think they had any that attracted Pokémon (I should know, I'd looked), nor did I think he'd have to go specifically to Mt. Chimney to get it... though perhaps I was wrong. Certain places had unique items depending on their location and the Pokémon that lived there, so it wasn't unheard of. Maybe a rare food item?

Nigel's house was easy to spot, making me wonder again if his Halloween obsession was hereditary. This year seemed even more elaborate than the last. I don't know how they did it but there was webbing EVERYWHERE. They must have borrowed someone's Spinarak or five, the whole yard filled with thick, white strands that you couldn't see through. Leaves had already gotten stuck to it and there were small, wiggling cocoons that I really, reallyhoped didn't have live Pokémon inside.

"They wanted to do a maze this year," Nigel spoke, apparently observing my reaction. "It's really nicely done... and the yard is big enough it takes a while to get through if you don't know the way. Even has a couple dead ends and booby traps."

"Booby traps?"

"Yeah, some rubber Zubats that flap out from a section of webbing, a couple of Spinarak dolls that drop from the trees and on your head, they're soft so it doesn't hurt," he assured me, as if my look of horror had anything to do with that. "Ah, a hidden panel that shrieks if you step on it, another one that spins you dizzy, and one that makes a projection of Ghastlies appear." The smile on his face seemed to indicate he was pleased by all these things though I couldn't fathom why. "Dad will hide there tonight in his Were-Arcanine costume while Mom waits at the end with candy."

"Do we haveto go through the maze to get inside?" I tried not to grimace at the thought.

"Nah, we can use the side door. I want to hurry and give it to you so I can get some food before getting changed."

"Lopunny?" I smirked, thinking of the costume his mother had made for him when he'd been younger, the fringes pink like the rare coloring of the species.

He frowned and muttered more to himself than me as we walked around the outskirts of the maze. "One year," he grumbled. "I let my mother pick the costume one year and I never get to live it down..."

He opened the side door of the house, the hinges giving a loud shriek of protest before his mother's voice called out.

"Nigel! Hurry up, will you? Your father needs some help, he wants to set up some Rattatta zombies from last year." Her face peeked around the corner of the entry way, blinking once in surprise as she saw me before grinning. "Louie! Are you going with Nigel this year?"

I smiled at her pet name for me rather than make a face at her question or the bright pink Blissey outfit she was wearing, complete with nurses' cap.

"Ah, no, Mrs. King. Got other plans for tonight."

"Oh." The smile on her face faded a little before she gave a wider grin. "Maybe next year, huh? We can always use an extra hand around the house." We were already heading up the stairs when she called out behind us, "And maybe you can convince him to wear something other than those spooky costumes of his!"

I turned, unable to resist. "Like the Lopunny?"

"Such a sweet costume," she sighed before turning to leave.

"Why am I helping you again?" Nigel muttered, but his voice was more amused than disgruntled.

"Cuz I'm your friend... and have been since we shared that bottle of paste back in Kindergarten."

I could have sworn he turned a shade of green, his hand reaching for his stomach before he pushed open the door to his room. "Don't remind me about that! I had a stomachache the rest of the day and I stillcan't use Elmer's without feeling nauseous!"

I gave a laugh, moving to sit in his computer chair while he went to his closet. I was just able to make out the shape and color of what looked to be a Furret costume. Before I could say anything about it, such as "How much better was that really compared to a Lopunny," when he shut the closet door and carried a case over.

"You have to be really careful with this," he warned. "I'm not sure what'll happen once you use it."

The case was black, a hard plastic, like the kind you would carry and instrument in.

Sitting closer at the edge of his chair, I leaned forward, watching as he kneeled down to open it.

The clasps on the side clicked open as he flipped them, opening the case carefully as if whatever was inside was more delicate than a Butterfree's wing. Resting on red velvet was what looked to be a white flute. It had to be the weirdest styled flute I'd ever seen, not made from metal but either a plastic or a glass. It wasn't a solid white color either, more like someone had poured milk into water and watched it slowly swirl to the bottom then mimicked the effects.

"You know how to play the guitar and things," Nigel said, running a finger to touch the flute. "I know it's not the same, but you should be able to figure it out."

"You got this from Mt. Chimney?" It looked too rare and special to have come from a volcanic ash land.

"Yeah. One of the people there will make it for you if you gather enough of the ash the volcano spews out." He laughed, moving to rub the back of his head. "I swear, I probably walked a half mile or more to get it and was blacker than a Murkrow's feathers by the time I was done but it was worth it!" His lips twisted. "I swear, I can still feel the soot inside my nose."

Imagining how long it must have taken him to gather, I was still trying to fathom the reason he'd done so.

"So... what's it do?"

He sat back, crossing his legs to get more comfortable. "Legend at Mt. Chimney is that, if you play it, you should be able to attract Wild Pokémon to you. I figured, since you're going to a graveyard and all, if you play it, maybe you'll have a better shot of finding your Ghost."

"Ifit's true." I couldn't help but let a little disappointment seep into my voice, this not quite the guarantee I'd been hoping for.

"If it's true," he agreed, closing the case before nudging it towards me. "Look, I gotta go help my dad before he gets stuck in the webbing again. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

Case in hand, I gave a nod, leaving the room before he did.

Would this reallyhelp me?

=*=*=

I backtracked to my house, wanted to empty out my school bag and fill it with the essentials. Candles, a lighter, flashlight, sleeping bag, blanket, crackers and peanut butter, and some bottled water. While getting the latter two from the kitchen, a note stuck to the fridge caught my eye.

Louis,

Will be getting home late tonight. Sandwiches in the fridge. See you tomorrow.

-Mom

It was nice of her. Grandpappy used to make meals for me when mom was going to work late...

I stopped the thought, hastily opening the fridge door to grab the sandwiches, shoving them into baggies, not wanting to think of it right now.

=*=*=

Leaving the house before dark, I took my bike with me. The cemetery was a good distance away, about eight miles, but thankfully I could take the bus for at least five of them. When I got off at the stop, the driver gave me an odd look, the stop so rarely used they no longer had a sign to mark it. He didn't say anything, however, and pulled away after I retrieved my bike from the front rack, the bus hissing as it drove off. By that time, the sky was starting to darken, stars slowly speckling the sky like snowflakes.

There was a path, what most would call a Stantler path, traveled so frequently by said Pokémon and others that the grass had been worn down into dirt. With the bike, I was able to travel the remaining distance along the path, though I had to travel more carefully the darker it became.

The path continued onward but I cut to the right, going off of it and through some bushes, having already gone this way several times before. Within a few feet was a fence, dividing the living from the dead, the forest from the graves. I stopped short of it, a feeling like a dark Curse hitting my stomach. I knew it wasn't real, but the impact was enough to make my breath come out short.

The fence, which I'd noticed during one of my visits, had been cut. I didn't do it... but that wasn't going to stop me from taking advantage of it.

Leaving my bike chained against a tree, sheltered from view from those who might happen by, I moved to pry the chain back, nicking my thumb as I did so. Rubbing it tightly against my index finger, I ignored the pulse of pain and moved onward, watchful of anyone who might be lingering after hours.

Seeing no one, I followed the fence West, trying to appear casual rather than sneaky. I'd found many times that if you acted like you belonged, people were less likely to trouble you.

The slight chill from earlier had grown slender fangs, the wind running along the tops of the graves and stirring the grass in ways that were almost eerie. Other than the shuffle of dancing leaves, there was a stillness in the air that made my stride lengthen, wishing to hurry without making it appear so.

Darkness was coming faster now, the moon starting to crest above the trees. I could feel moisture seeping through my tennis shoes, the groundskeeper having to have watered earlier as there was no rain. A mist rose upward, only a few inches tall but enough that it stirred as I walked past, circling behind me and rising up as if to strike before falling back.

There! Made it!

The small outline of the crypt was one I'd become familiar with the last few weeks. Two columns rose on either side of the door, plain in design but all the better as it would draw less attention from anyone, a fact that was testified by the rusted chain and useless lock that held the gate in front of it shut.

I'd found this out during my last visit.

Twisting the lock to the side, ignoring the metallic scent of rust now clinging to my hand, I took the chain in one hand and slipped it off the bars. Letting myself in, I closed the doors behind me and loosely left the chain around it, the lock back in place and unlocked, though you couldn't tell that from a distance.

The door to the crypt was just beyond the fenced entryway, made of wood that had recently been replaced but still sported a doorknob from a century or two ago. A quick jiggle was all it took to cause the door to rattle right open.

Ducking inside, shutting the door behind me, I took a look around, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darker quarters. Last time, I'd only tested to see if I could get in. This was my first time actually inside the crypt. With my back to the door, I blinked my eyes a few times as the faint light from the slender windows illuminated just enough for me to see. There was what looked to be a small altar near one of the windows, the outline of small doors along the wall (presumably for where to shove the coffins into), and a few small statues whose shapes I couldn't make out more clearly. The scent in the air reminded me of our basement, a mix of moisture and stones, with what could be mold. Setting my bag on the ground, I worked on unzipping it, pulling out my supplies and preparing for the night.

=*=*=

I hadn't seen anything by the time my wristwatch showed 23:30, which was fine. I really hadn't expected anything before midnight, the proclaimed "Witching Hour," anyway. Given that I heard no one approach, I decided now would be ideal for lighting the candles I had.

In the dark, I couldn't make out the colors. The scents, however, were easy enough to identify. The first, with a crisp scent like a broken off branch of a Christmas tree, that was Evergreen, my green candle for Earth. This candle I put at the back corner of the crypt, not lighting it for the moment. The next one that I pulled out was spicy, like when Pappy had used actually cinnamon sticks for his cookies. This one, my red candle, was for Fire. It took its spot across from the Earth candle in the opposite corner.

The next one smelled like lemons, my yellow candle, to represent Air. Personally, I thought white would have been better for it, but in the course of my research the last several years, yellow appeared more often than white on the pentagrams so yellow it was. This candle was placed in the upper left corner, across from the Earth candle.

The forth one was one of mom's that I'd borrowed, a sweet smelling thing that was suppose to be "Ocean Spray" but really didn't smell like the ocean. Considering the scents of the others, I really couldn't complain, but I'd have liked it better if the scent was less fabricated or actually had something to do with the name. Either way, what it represented was more important than its smell, and the blue Water candle was put in the right corner of the crypt, leaving one candle in each corner.

However, I still had one candle left.

The last candle was white, odorless. This one I placed on the windowsill, directly in the middle between Air and Water but pushed further outward. Ideally, the candle for Spirit would have been further out still, as the point of the pentacle, but I had only so much room to do this in and having the other four in the corners was equally important.

With them all in their proper spots, I grabbed the lighter from my bag. Starting with Earth, I asked for a blessing of endurance as well as stability as the night went on. From there, I moved to Water, asking for my intuition to be heightened and my emotions to be balanced. Next came Air and the wish for intelligence while seeking my desires. Then to Fire, for courage to see this night out. Last, up to Spirit, with a prayer to the Divine, asking for guidance.

With all five lit, I stood in the center, watching.

Nothing happened.

It was a little disappointing, I was hoping the invoking ceremony might have intrigued some Ghost, being in a graveyard and all, but as it hadn't worked previous years, it wasn't as crushing as it might have been.

Besides, I had other measures.

Reaching into my backpack again, I pulled out a smaller cloth bag, listening as the objects within clinked lightly against each other.

Back in the day, my Pappy had been a miner. He'd dug tunnels with Paul and Big George, as well as Firecracker Pete (named as such since he handled the dynamite and had far too much of a good time with it), back in the early 1900s. During that time, he'd collected several gemstones, pieces that were too small or fragmented to be crafted, and started his own collection...

I closed my eyes, unable to stop the thought.

Which he'd left to me.

Those words hung in my head, ringing loudly like a wind chime caught in a storm. Shutting my eyes so tightly that when I opened them I saw spots, I battered the thought to the side, shoving my focus into my work.

Breathing out, I unlaced the back and let the tassels fall back, widening the lip of the bag to reach in.

Tiger Eye... that was the first stone that came out. Golden stripes weaved with darker brown ones, looking more the like the hide of the beast they were named after rather than the actual eye.

"To help solve difficulties," I whispered to myself, stroking the smoothed surface of the stone.

I wasn't sure if it might help in the "finding Ghosts" category, but I could hope. This stone was the very first one Pappy had started his collection with, making it beyond the worth of gold. I put it next to the Earth candle, after a little consideration.

Reaching into my cloth bag again, the familiar texture of Pappy's favorite stone grazed my fingers. Pulling it out, the black parts of the stone gleamed in the candlelight while the red portions darkened. A smile came to my lips, remembering Pappy's telling of how Big George had almost beaned him with the stone, his helmet the only thing that saved him. He told the story with fondness, though, as Pappy'd been the one teasing him about being sweet on a gal and too shy to do anything.

This one, ironically enough, had to do with protection.

After putting the Hematite next to the Fire candle, I drew out the uneven feeling Quartz. It was shorter than my index finger, tipped at the top into a point with small chips along the surface. Pappy said Firecracker Pete gave him this particular chunk in commemoration of their first demolition job together, having found his collecting of stones amusing when he could have been blowing more things up. As an amplifier, I was hoping the Quartz might make my wishes of seeing a Ghost more defined, and rested it against the Air candle.

A gray piece of stone, the Moonstone, I put by the candle for Spirit. It couldn't help a Pokémon evolve, too small and cracked for that, but the hum of energy could be felt when handling the stone, like a faint, continuous stream of static electricity. This one was said to provide luck... and with all the failures over the years, it was apparent I needed it.

The last one, a blue Opal, was attached to the ring Pappy had given Mammy when he'd been younger. It was one of the few stones he'd owned that hadn't been fragmented or broken. He'd saved his money and taken it to a jeweler, made sure it was shaped and set into a silver ring, with the inscription of "Dearest Margaret," on the inside. I often wondered if Pappy had known the meaning for the stone to be "Fulfillment of Desires" or if he'd chosen it on a whim... but it was too late to ask him that.

At least... for now.

Touching the surface of the ring, I set it gently next to the candle for Water. Moving back to the center, I could see the stones reflecting their colors as the candles burned, the shadows on the wall moving as the flames danced. Every year I tried this, it failed. Each new year, I came up with different ideas for why the last hadn't worked. The failures didn't stop me from trying, but each one made it a little harder to try again.

This year... it might be the last time I try.

Glancing at my watch again, the clock now showed 00:01, just after midnight. Grabbing one of the sandwiches mom had made, I sat in the center again, breathing in the mixed scents of the candles and fighting against the irritating feelings along the corners of my eyes.

=*=*=

02:43, still nothing.

The assuredness of my success I'd felt earlier on the walk home with Nigel seemed like a lifetime ago. The scent of the candles had grown nauseating, the fragrances all mixing and mingling into one obnoxious smell. The wax dripping along their sides had long since bored me, leaving my mind to drift in and out as I waited for something more.

"Looks like another letdown," I finally admitted, flopping backwards to lie on the sleeping bag.

My head struck something hard and I rolled away, swearing at myself as I clutched my head. Turning sharply, I saw I'd hit my head on the case Nigel had given me.

True... I hadn't used that yet, more because I hadn't wanted to get caught than anything. However, if the candlelight hadn't attracted anyone's attention, it was doubtful the playing of the flute would.

Besides, better to try everything and fail then to be left wondering.

Turning over, I flicked the latches open. Lifting the case lid, the flute looked back up at me, an air of expectancy around it. I frowned at the idea, thinking I'd been up too long if I was imagining stationary objects to be capable of expecting anything, but I could admit the subtle glow of it in candle light made me hope again.

Looking closer at it, it seemed more like a recorder than the modern day flute, though it was a flute all the same. Simple, very simple, with six holes for the fingers, one for the thumb, and the one square one to let air out by the mouthpiece.

Slipping my fingers under it, I drew it from the case, the sleek sides of it cool to the touch. Wetting my lips, I placed the mouthpiece against them and drew a breath through my nose before giving a soft blow.

While there wasn't much force behind it, the note rang out clearly. I couldn't tell which note it was, more skilled in strings than wind instruments, so I tried a few other combinations to give me a better idea.

Again, I was reminded of the recorder from my middle school days as I tried out each note. With a snort, I gave into the ridiculous urge to play "Hot Crossed Buns," the tune off key the first time but finally steady the second time. The third time, I was playing more confidently till the unmistakable sound of a chain clinking made me cut off in mid "one-a-penny."

Still, I listened, the flute still poised against my lips.

There was another clang, as if someone had opened the gate only to shut it.

Bolting upright, I tried to think of how to hide. At this point, I had no way to gather everything up and attempt to keep myself from being discovered. Leaving the candles would have been fine, but Pappy's stones weren't going to be left for some guard to finger and throw aside!

Still standing, flute in hand, I couldn't make up my mind to do anything as the handle rattled.

As easily caught as a Magikarp, I cringed, watching the door open.

Rather than the burly security guard I was expecting to see, the form was slender and small, wearing what looked to be a costume. A cloak wrapped around their shoulders, rich blue with what looked to be two white hooks locking it into place and keeping it from falling off. I couldn't make out their eyes, the thick mix of purple and blue bangs obscuring them from view. The longer I looked, the more I was certain it was a girl, but the black outfit they wore clung so closely to their frame that without more lighting I couldn't tell.

Then again, I couldn't imagine any guy but Nigel wearing the pair of large blue ears she had atop her head.

She shut the door behind her, moving gradually further into the crypt. A pressure at the back of my mind still insisted on running, though I was certain she wasn't security, just on the off chance she decided to get me arrested anyway.

"Look, I don't want any trouble. I'll leave."

Her head lifted slowly, tilting as if looking at me before turning with a sluggishness I'd seen only in a Slowpoke. Her gaze, though I couldn't see it, seemed to hover on the candles and stones, her head turning to observe each of the five spots. Suddenly, I wanted to throw my blanket over all of it, not wanting her to see it, but I surpassed the urge.

"I'll pack up right now," I continued, bending down to put the flute away.

This time, her head moved with such speed it caught me unaware. Tensed, I held utterly still, feeling like I'd been pinned under the gaze of a Staraptor. Gradually, her head lifted and the sensation with it.

"So," the word came out quickly, with an exaggerated "oh" at the end of it. "I did 'ear musicah."

The accent was one I was unfamiliar with, making her words sound more drawn out, like how "music" came out more like "mews-ickah" to my ears.

"Yeaaaah," I said slowly, making sure the flute was secured before closing the case.

Her head moved again to my candles and stones. "What-ah..." she trailed off, before continuing. "R you doing 'ear?"

"What are youdoing here?" I countered, certain by now she wasn't a worker at the cemetery, not with that costume anyway.

She waved her hand dismissively, allowing me to see the dark purple gloves she wore with their realistically sharp looking white claws. "I was following de sound of dah musicah." She paused, apparently waiting for my answer.

When I didn't give one right away, the air in the crypt seemed to grow taunt so I finally spat out, "Nothing."

"Ah, kno-ting." The word came with a sigh, clearly expressing her disbelief. "Dis 'kno-ting' you be doing... has kno-ting to do with attracting something, kak vy govorite?" She nibbled on her lower lip, one of her fake fangs showing. "Otherworldly?"

It was one thing for Nigel to know, it was another thing completely for this weird-ass girl in a costume to know.

Reaching for the bag to gather my Pappy's stones, a warm hand stopped me. Trying to pull my hand away, I found her kneeling beside me, so close I could almost make out her eyes from behind her hair. How she moved that fast I wasn't sure, but I was more than ready to get going.

"Now, now... no rush," she said, a pleased sound in her throat as if she realized I was using my full strength to pull away and couldn't. "Whut were you trying to attract, anyway?"

Snapping, unsure how she was able to keep my wrist in her lax grip, I gave her the answer, hoping it would prompt her into letting me go.

"Ghosts, okay?! Just Ghosts!"

Her head listed, looking past me to the Spirit candle and the Moonstone that lay there, giving a shake of her head so gently that her hair barely stirred.

"Dis wrong... kak vy govorite? En-ur-gy? Force." Her "r" and "c" sound in "force" curled. "For Ghosts, need temno, like night." She moved her free hand in a gradual sweep of the room. "You have sveta, like sun," there was a sneer in her voice, but one that didn't sound directed to me. "Use temno, will bring many, many Ghosts."

I relaxed my struggles, squinting at her, as if that would provide me more insight about her.

"How do you know?" I asked, not willing to trust the word of a stranger, much less a costumed one.

"De Ghosts, dey like tings like 'ear, scaruhing people, yah know?" Clearly, she found me to be clueless for she gave a little lunge, waiving her free hand. "BOOH!" At my attempt to jump back and away from her, she laughed. "Jah, like dat. Temno, not sveta. Darkuh, nought dis," she waved her hand again. "Light."

"I have to scare someone to make Ghosts come?"

She gave a graceful lift of her shoulders before letting them fall, the cape moving with the gesture. "Best way, jah. Get, ah, 'ostage." She made a motion like wrapping string around something. "Scaruh dem. Will bring deh Ghosts, least one."

I could only stare at her in amazement.

"I'm not going to get a hostage and scare them!" I hissed, trying to decide if she had escaped from a mental hospital. "I don't want a Ghost like that!"

"Eto slishkom ploho," she answered, giving another slender shrug. "Es too bad." She gave a laugh, lifting her head so that her slender white throat showed. "Nohtuh likely to get..." she snickered, having to pause before continuing, "Jasper deh Friendly Gengar, jah? Doh..." Her mirth dwindled as she became more thoughtful and stroked the bottom of her chin with one of the oversized fingers on her glove. "I did 'ear about a friendly 'aunter a few years ago..."

"I don't want a Ghost! I just want--!"

I shut my mouth so hard my teeth clinked, not wanting the words to come out. That wasn't what I meant to say, not at all! But those were the words screaming from within me. And, even though I cut short of finishing it, I knew what the rest was.

I wanted my Pappy back.

"Ah." That word held more insight to it then I wanted it to. "Better to focus on dah living instead of dah dead, malen?kaya ved?ma." Her hand finally released my wrist. "Not dat you should forget dah dead, but dere's a difference, jah, between honoring a mem-or-y and being unable to move on." Her lips twisted into something of a frown. "Would jor..." she seemed to have to think of the phrasing, "loved ones wish you to suffer like dis?"

"I'm not suffering!" I just managed to hiss the words out of my clenched teeth.

"Ahhh, but you are," she whispered, a slender smile forming as she reached her hand to lightly trace my cheek, grazing it with one of her clawed fingers. "Jor in pain, so evident that even I can feel it."

I wanted to deny it again, more adamantly so she wouldn't continue, but I couldn't yell at her when she was speaking so softly like that.

"It's none of your business," I finally got out, pushing her hand away from my face. Rather than growing upset, she moved to touch her finger to her lips, as if in thought.

"I suppose," she returned, "yet I remember a time when I wished for someone to 'ave come to soothe may troubles."

"There's nothing to soothe," I shook my head, my hands clenched tightly at my sides. I wanted her to leave! There was no point in her being here! "You can't bring him back!" I finally flung out, hoping to drive her away.

Only... it didn't.

"Jah," she whispered, her voice coaxing me, making me want to look towards her even as I purposefully looked away. "Dat is true, malen?kaya ved?ma." She gave a light hum. "But I can take away jor pain."

"You can't--!" I turned, intending to look her right in the face and tell her why she couldn't, but the thought suddenly died off.

She had parted her bangs, one eye shinning out from under them. It was red, as red and dark as Tourmaline, my mother's birthstone. The words I'd had seemed to fall like pebbles and vanish before reaching the ground, leaving me with nothing.

"I can 'elp you," she offered quietly, moving her hair further out of the way, making it so I could now see her full face instead of the lower half. "I can take it away from you..."

I wanted to ridicule her, tell her exactly why it wasn't possible, but the words wouldn't form. Her lips curled into a smile, like a pleased Persian, her hand moving to touch from my ear to my jaw.

"I will take it from you," her voice continued as she leaned closer, both of her eyes staring right into mine. "Let me 'elp you, jah? For jor loved ones sake?"

The resistance I wanted eluded me like the mist I'd seen arriving here today. If she could help, why not let her?

"Just say yes," she whispered, her words soft but an eagerness there that I couldn't understand. Her breath tickled against my face, one hand spreading to cup my face while the other rested lightly against my knee. "Dat's all, just yes... I'll take it all away, give you something more pleasant to think of..."

I wanted to call her crazy but how could I when her face was so close to mine, our noses almost touching? What would she do, if I said 'yes'? I didn't think she could really help me, but thinking of that was so hard when those deep red eyes were looking at me, waiting, and her body was so close I could reach out and touch it.

"...yes."

The smile she gave was wide, both of her fangs showing before she closed the distance with a kiss.

Her arms moved around my neck, her chest pushing close to mine. I could feel the small mounds I hadn't noticed before, feeling hot even with the fabric dividing it. She pushed, or I fell, and we were suddenly lying back on the sleeping bag with her straddling me. Struggling was the furthest thing from my mind as I felt her lips growing more insistent atop mine, her tongue flicking out and her little fangs nipping till I granted her access.

Her tongue slipped in, touching mine, before exploring my mouth with such ease that I wondered if she'd done it before. My own tongue moved past hers, seeking the same liberation, but she pulled back, leaving me panting.

"Good," she said, her accent becoming thicker. "Don't tink, just relax."

Her words played inside my head, repeating, weaving. Don't think. Just relax. Good. Just relax, don't think. Good. Good. Good... Those words filled my mind completely, drowning out any other thoughts as my body grew lax, the tension of my previous failures drifting away.

"Very good." Her words barely registered. Was I falling asleep? It felt like it, the same warm and fuzzy mindedness... but I couldn't bring myself to fight it or care, the comfort it offered so much better.

She leaned over me, her hair touching her face as she smiled. It was a soft one, making me want to reach and pull her closer, but lifting my arms seemed like too much effort.

"I hope you don't likuh dis shirt too much," she whispered, her white claw pausing at the collar of the shirt, catching it and holding it, as if waiting for my answer.

Did I like it? I don't think I hated or loved it...

Swallowing, my tongue feeling swollen like when the dentist had used Novocain before getting ready to drill. Struggling to form words with the uncomfortable mass in my mouth, I felt the fabric suddenly give as her finger traveled from my collar down to my waist. The cool air along my chest made me suck in a gulp of air, my mind finally getting a jump-start, trying to figure out what had happened.

"Shh," she whispered, spreading the shirt open and planting soft kisses along my chest. "Don't tink about it... relax."

The repetition of the words she'd spoken earlier sunk me back into that peaceful stupor. My eyes felt like they wanted to shut, dipping closed then springing open, dipping closed then springing open. Her breath made me shiver, the warmth of it washing along my stomach before the skin became chilled again by the surrounding air.

"You don't 'ave a partner yet, do you?" She sounded strangely pleased by that, sliding off my body. Before I could even miss her warmth, she was rubbing her head lightly against my belly. "I can't smell one on you..."

Partner? Like a Pokémon? No... I didn't have one.

The sluggish thought ground to a halt when I felt her fingers tickle along my sides, moving to skim the edges of my jeans.

"Virgin's are dah best," she said, her finger slipping under the waistline. "But dey're so very, very rare..." She gave a giggle, her eagerness bubbling as I felt her finger move towards the button on my jeans. "Relax," she repeated, my jeans suddenly giving as if the button had been cut free rather than undone. "I'll take care of you..."

I thought to protest but by the time I got my mouth open enough to form a strangled sound, my pants were already pulled off, my briefs swiftly following.

"Jah, rare," she went on, seeming to be talking more to herself now than me. "Dah last virgin I recall..." She paused, placing a claw against her lip, the nail pricking her lip so deeply I thought it might draw blood. I mean, if it could cut through my shirt so easily, why couldn't it puncture her skin? Finally, she gave one quick turn of her head, enough to be called a shake before a giving a laugh that sounded like a row of high pitched clicks from her tongue. "I can't recall," she admitted, this time grinning at me.

I wasn't sure I was glad she was paying attention to me again. Not when those fake fangs seemed to gleam brighter than any plastic I'd ever seen, anyway.

Her eyes moved along my skin, so intent that I could have sworn I felt heat from them. She started at my neck, trailing down my sternum, circling and dipping into my bellybutton, then finally moved to hover over my cock. Thankfully, the coolness of the crypt kept me from embarrassing myself but the way her eyes narrowed into thin, red slits made me reconsider my luck.

"Dat's not good, malen?kaya ved?ma," she muttered, a low hum coming from her throat, so deep it might even be called a growl. "You'll 'urt a girl's feelings dat way, jah?" Her lips gave a twist on one side, the little turn of her mouth with the glare of her eyes making my skin suddenly break out with goose bumps.

Leaning closer, her knees pressed close but not quite touching my side, I watched as she bent her head over, her eyes looking towards me as I strained to see what she was doing. Seconds past, then minutes. She did nothing, just kept her head barely over my midsection. Her hair didn't even touch me, though the soft breaths she exhaled danced along my skin more playful and mischievous than any Mew. Those little wisps of air made me wonder, made me think. What would the touch of her hand be like along the same trail? Her lips? What if she moved them elsewhere?

From the look in her eyes and the teasing smile on her lips, she knew exactly what I was thinking.

"Better."

She gave a tilt of her head, a half of a nod, making me suck in a sharp gasp of air when her hair finally brushed against my skin. I had wanted the contact but had not expected the fineness of her hair, softer than the muzzle of a baby Ponyta. The multitude of deep clicks from her tongue made me want to look away, to avoid seeing her laughing, but another brush of her hair had me closing my eyes, fighting to keep from making a sound mingled between weakness and begging. A sharpness, like a thorn, made my eyes open. Breathing through my mouth, the air drawn through my nose not nearly enough to sustain me, I saw her staring directly at my eyes as she pressed one of her claws against my shoulder and dragged it downward.

The promise behind it, like a razor or knife, should have been enough to make me walk away. Still, within my head, her words played and I could feel the haze hovering around my mind, making the actions I was thinking of so much harder to gain the energy to do. Besides, while she'd easily torn my shirt apart her claw didn't dig deep enough to draw blood. The harsh draw of it made me hiss with more than pain as she drew it further down, her voice thickening with her accent as she spoke.

"Jah," she whispered, a quiver in her voice that I just knew hadn't been there before. "You like dat, yes?"

Another claw joined the first, mapping my chest and stomach in patterns I didn't recognize or understand but had me clenching my teeth together, still trying not to make a sound. Concentrated fire and burning ice, that was what her claws felt like. The areas she didn't touch, didn't mark, felt lacking. No, not lacking. Lacking wasn't enough of a word, enough of a sensation. Hunger, even, didn't explain it. A dark, bottomless chasm that reached out with tendrils of shadows, shrieking worse than any swarm of Zubats, reaching, reaching, and finding nothing till that flash of fire and ice raked along my skin and silenced the noise, the need, that was the closest I could come to describing it.

"Muh-more." The fragmented word tripped somewhere between my tongue and my teeth and I strained to get it out again. "More."

"Jah." Her own word sounded like she'd had to swallow first before speaking, the whole of it containing the awe of a child getting a present more spectacular than they'd originally asked for.

Her first hand was joined by her other, all of her fingers splayed to allow her nails to run against my sides. Normally ticklish, her talons provided enough pressure to override the annoying sensation, instead making me tense for another reason entirely. I knew beyond the shadow of a Sneasel that there would be red marks there tomorrow, probably even the day after, from the pressure... but who cared? As her nails raked down my skin, sensations ran from the tracks like rain, rippling down my skin and spreading to heat all of me, that dark chasm deepening. Each sensation seemed to fuel it, subsiding it but making it larger at the same time. When her claws lifted, I wanted to whimper at the loss. The trails she left made my skin ache, acknowledging the faint ghost of pain before my mind slipped into the deeper feeling of pleasure.

"Gospodin moi, jah..."

A fierce pressure claimed my mouth, so harsh and sudden that I didn't realize it was the girl at first. She was kissing me with a frenzy matching the dark pit within me and I let it consume me, reaching to slide my hands into her hair, pulling her closer as her hands wrapped around my wrists with a bruising force. This wasn't like any kissing I'd seen before, my saliva and hers mixing as easily as our breath did, almost sharing the same air as we all but tried to meld with the other. It was only when a sharp pinch to my lip made me taste copper that I pulled back, touching a finger to my lip before my tongue confirmed it.

She'd bit me.

"Sorry," she whispered, licking my blood from her lips, her eyes so dark they almost glowed as they remained focus on me. "I... I 'ave never lost control like dat." Her tongue moved along her lips once more, as if seeking out any drops she may have missed.

"Don't worry about it," I answered, once I could get my tongue to move. That bite had helped to focus my mind, some of my thoughts striking through the misty barrier. I moved to wipe the blood off on my wrist when her hand grabbed it, stopping me. She leaned in again, this time moving to kiss my torn lip. It was a feather light touch that moved into a suckling that had my lower half throbbing.

"Gooooood," she whispered against my mouth, her tongue darting to touch my lip once more before she pulled back. I didn't let her get very far, twisting my hand that she still held so I could keep her to close. She gave a small jerk, as if startled, before her movements stilled. Her scarlet eyes watched me, a small squint making it appear as if she were inspecting me like a curious Pidgey, wavering between flying and staying.

...I wanted her to stay.

"It's okay." I wasn't sure if these were the right words, but they were the only ones my sluggish mind could reach. "I... want to keep going."

She took a quick breath that made her small chest swell under the cloak she wore, as though my words caught her off guard. Without thinking, I reached to brush a hand against her breast, wanting to feel more of her. Her cloak didn't feel like the soft silk I'd thought it would. Instead, it was warm from her body and reminded me of leather soaked in the summer sun. My fingers spread over her right breast, getting the general shape from over the cloak. They were small, barely able to fill my hand, but I liked it better than I thought I would. I mean, I'd always seen the Miltank Girl posters with the girl claiming to have the "best jugs of milk" with tits so large they'd rival your head... but this small handful just fit so much better than those ones would have.

With both hands now, I felt the outline of her breasts and squeezed, trying to gauge what she was wearing under the cloak. I didn't think she had on a bra, at least, I couldn't feel a wire or strap, but I didn't know for certain.

Looking up from my hands, I saw that she was equally as fascinated by my hands on her as I was. For a time, I kept kneading with my fingers, watching her face as a light flush crept onto her cheeks. Her eyes remained fixated on my fingers, her hips shifting from time to time before she looked up, meeting my gaze with the same intensity I knew mine were showing back to her.

"Take it off," I whispered, the words more of a plea than a command. I wanted to feel her skin without the cloak, a shirt, or bra. I wanted to feel her body the way she'd felt mine, with my fingertips and nails.

The slow shake of her head hurt more than I thought.

"I... I can't," she mumbled, her hands moving to twist each other as she spoke. "Not... all dah way, anyway..."

From her talk before, I thought she'd been with a lot of different guys... but maybe she was just as new to this as I was.

"Whatever I can have." I moved to cup her cheek, trying to fight back against the protesting pulses my cock was sending to me. "Or you'll hurt a guy's feelings that way," I added, keeping my voice light.

The soft lift of her shoulders in the silent laugh reassured me as she moved her fingers to the clasp of her cloak. She pulled the hooks in opposite directions from each other, lifting the material so that I could see the whole of her for the briefest moment.

She was completely nude under the cloak.

With a hard swallow, I felt my cock jump against my belly. She either didn't notice or comment because she moved her cloak back around her but lower down, under the junction of her breasts so that she could hook it but have her breasts over it. The way she had it draped, it hid very little. I could make out a thatch of purple hair where her legs joined, the candlelight playing along it, as well as the dusty brown shade of her perky little nipples. She had the silver markings of old scars along parts of her body, perhaps from the past that she mentioned wishing having someone, but before I could ask, she just gave a slender smile and a slow shake that made me swallow the questions.

Now was not the time.

Moving closer to her, I moved my hand to bury it in her hair, pulling her lips close to mine as my other hand reached to tug her onto my lap, reaching to clutch her ass and squeeze. She chuckled against my mouth but complied, moving to straddle me again, leaving my cock between our bellies rather than between her thighs where it wanted.

Her own hands had moved behind my back, her wonderful claws lightly grazing against my skin. She wiggled them and they dug in and out, making me thrust up, my cock dripping wantonly against her belly. Rather than taking pity on me, she just sank her claws in harder, following along the path of my shoulder blades. In response, I dug my hand harder into her hair and deepened the kiss till she had to let me in. My loose hand sank into her ass, tugging it and listening to the soft little clicks she made, spaced with such intervals that it appeared more of an encouragement than the laugh she'd had before. Her tiny breasts rubbed against my chest as she moved on my lap, grinding me, attempting to ease her frustrations without me. It was really hot, how she was licking at my throat, nipping with her fake fangs, like a Houndour in heat.

"Malen?kaya ved?ma!" The words sounded scolding though she had a hint of mirth in her voice as she pulled her head back, smiling at me. "I am supposed tah be taken care of you, notah deh other way around."

"Maybe this is taking care of me..." I mumbled, only thinking of how quickly my lips missed the feel of hers. Leaning to claim them again, this time doing so as slowly as a Slugma in March, I closed my eyes and savored it.

I felt no resistance to the kiss, but once it ended she gave a laugh that held an edge of something I couldn't identify. Guilt? Reluctance? Uncertainty? Trying to figure it out, I didn't have any forewarning before she pushed me down again for the second time that evening.

"Be daht as it may," she said, leaning to cover my chest with hers as her ass lifted, allowing my cock to feel the tormenting bliss of her entrance. "It twasn't whut I'd meant."

"What did you- fuck!"

Everything shattered and sank into the back corners of my mind. Nothing, not even the question I'd been about to ask, was more important than the feeling of wet and warmth that was enveloping my cock at that very moment. Hell, it wasn't till I realized my chest hurt that I remembered that I should breathe.

By the time I dragged in the cold air of the crypt, she'd started moving. Her insides were squeezing my cock, then relaxing, then squeezing again at the same time she was moving her body up and down. Her breasts where jutting outward as her hands rested on my chest, the tips of her nails digging in with each thrust downward. I wanted to reach and drag her down, closer to me, so that I could feel her breasts against my skin as she moved, but I didn't want to interrupt what she was doing. Instead, I reached to touch her sides, watching how she gasped and flexed around my cock suddenly. Grinning now, I let my fingers move against her skin, dragging my nails much like she'd done her claws. I almost lost my concentration right then, as her bucking suddenly became erratic. Stopping, pulling my hands away, she gave a soft sobbing sound of loss that made me instantly reach for her.

She reacted to my touches in ways I couldn't understand. I mean, hell, yes... she felt amazing around my cock, but hadn't anyone else touched her like this? From the way she acted, it didn't seem so.

Dragging my nails from her armpits, I left an angry red trail that raked against her breasts and only made her coo in response, pressing them closer for more as the sloshing sound of her riding me sounded louder in my ears. Pinching and twisting her nipples made her body twist and turn in response, her hips gripping me tighter as she went even faster. I wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer if I kept going, but I just couldn't stop seeing her responses to me, her need for me. Getting a good grip of her nipples between my index and thumb, rubbing them gently, I gave a sudden tug that pulled her towards me, her balance completely thrown off. I heard a snapping sound, like a kite caught in the wind and flung upward into the air, but I didn't get a chance to see what it was. Suddenly, her mouth was against my neck, that burning ice sensation like her nails had given flashing.

That was all it took as I reached for her ass, spreading her cheeks and thrusting, holding her against me as I just kept pushing into her, pumping her, closing my eyes as the pleasure thrummed, her teeth sinking deeper into my skin, causing it flash all over again. With one last shove, I felt myself let go. The pressure within me eased, my cum spilling into her as her mouth loosened. I felt her lips against my skin, her body tensed as if she was screaming but not a sound came out. While I vaguely heard the howls of dogs in the distance, she shuddered against me, warmth trickling down my legs as her body tightened its claim around me, milking my cock for any remaining cum.

For a time, we just lay there panting. It was she who moved first, lifting her head to lick at my neck. It hurt more than I thought, now that the original endorphins had died down. It... ached. I felt really tired too, though I supposed that was to be expected... but... she'd done all the work...

Shouldn't she be the tired one?

It seemed unimportant as she kissed and licked along my neck, my hands moving to stroke along her back, basking in the feel of her with me. At least, I basked until the last of the haze that had been hovering my mind faded and I felt something odd along her back.

...that wasn't a cloak.

The snapping sound I'd heard, I realized now, was the sound of the "clasp" coming undone, of her wings coming undone when I'd pulled her down. Now, they were lying around us, lax, and my fingers were touching the junction where her back and wings joined.

And, from the sudden tenseness of her body, she knew I knew.



"You really should be careful, malen?kaya ved?ma," she whispered, pulling back so that she was straddling me again. My cock was still buried inside her but I wasn't thinking about how great she felt any more. I was just thinking of the red streaks against her mouth that looked so very, very much like my blood. "When you make a call with all this," she waved her hand around the room, "sveta, light," Her lips twisted to a smile that made something in me hurt like broken glass. "You might actually call something darkuh."

She moved to stand, my cock slipping out even as I reached for her and missed. My head spun at the sudden movement and I felt nausea tickle the back of my throat, forcing me to be still.

"You'll be fine in an hour or so." Her voice had a coolness to it that hadn't been there before and I couldn't figure on why. She tossed her hair and her wings spread to their full length, blocking the light from the Earth candle. God, I didn't even know what she was and she was still incredible... more so since I knew her claws, fangs, ears, and wings to be a part of her and not some stupid costume.

Also... the shine between her legs from her juice and my seed made me desperately aware that I didn't want this to be a onetime fuck.

She caught my glance and her eyes narrowed, her frown so tight it almost made her lips vanish on her face. Then, I caught a swift motion of uncertainty, so quick I might have missed it if I hadn't been so focused on her.

"Don't..." I shook, finding speaking to be more of an effort than when the haze had been on my mind. The lightheadedness was making the room ripple along the corners of my vision and I felt for sure if I didn't focus I was going to pass out. "Go."

Her lip curled, showing off a fang. Her eyes glanced to the door, as if considering the distance it would take to get there.

"I don't want you... to go."

I could feel my heart working faster, racing at the knowledge that she could just leave and I might never see her again. She wasn't a Ghost... she wasn't a Pokémon, at least, not a Pokémon in the true sense of the word... but that didn't matter. I felt like her leaving would take a part of me I'd never get back, a part I just found with her tonight.

I wasn't ready to lose it yet.

She continued to stare at the door but her body was tensed, not making a step towards it. Her wings flexed outward with a quick flap before wrapping around her, the hooks on the "thumb" of the wing latching so that she was covered.

"Jor gonna bleed tah death if I dunnot stay," I heard her mutter, finally moving towards me. "Gettin' yourself all worked up likah dat." She made a soft little "tsk" sound. "Jah, I'll stay... for a little while." Her voice was gradually warming again as she sat behind me, adjusting my head so that it rested against her wings and on her lap. "Till justa beforah deh sun comes up. Den, I go."

My hand reached for her face but fell short of reaching her.

"Stay." I swallowed, feeling my head spin and my tongue struggle to speak. Spots of red, green, and blue were speckling her face, flashing and fading, frustrating me to no end.

Her hand took mine, her face leaning down enough that with her help I could feel her skin under my fingers as she rubbed her face against my palm, chuckling.

"Ah... malen?kaya ved?ma, truly you are a gifted human."

"Mah-len kai-ya...?"

She laughed, the clicking sound bouncing off the crypt walls.

"Malen?kaya ved?ma," she repeated, speaking it slowly before brushing the pulse point at my wrist with her lips. "Kak vy govorite... lee-tell v'itch."

"Little... witch?"

"Jah," she whispered, kissing my wrist again just before the darkness along the edges of my eyes began to swoop forward, blanketing my mind with warmth, completely covering my indignity that I couldn't at least have been called a warlock instead.

=*=*=

I woke when I felt her moving. Remembering her words, I scrambled to reach for her, aware of nothing else. I felt better than I had, the quick movement doing nothing to unsettle me, though I did fail to grab her in time.

"Malen?kaya ved?ma, I 'ave to go." She was moving to the door as I was getting up to my feet. "I 'ave overstayed as it is."

"Why?" Then I realized that the question wasn't even important. "When will I see you again?"

For the first time, I saw a pain on her face that reminded me so closely of the feelings I'd had of Pappy, the feeling of losing someone one.

"I will see you again, won't I?" I asked the question quietly while taking a step forward but she moved back, pushing the door open, and I stopped.

"I 'ave to go, dah sun be comin' up soon." She twisted her head to look out the door, a clawed hand resting against the stone, then back to me. The look on her face reassured me, even if she was forced to go, she was torn by her choice which meant she didn't really want to go. "As fer seein' you... I..." She licked her lips and I could feel the wound of my neck ache in response, thinking again of her teeth against my neck. My response must have been evident for she glanced down then back up at me, a light flush on her cheeks. "I cannot promise, Malen?kaya ved?ma but..." She tensed suddenly, looking out the door and giving a hiss that sounded on the edge of pain.

There was no puff of smoke, no slow transformation. One moment she was there, the next, a Golbat hovered, flapping in her place. It shot me a quick look, so similar to the torn look she'd given me before that I knew her to be the same even in this form. I lunged for her but she was gone.

"Come back!"

There was no answering voice, only what sounded to be a shriek and a multitude of flapping wings. Suddenly, there was not just one Golbat in the sky, but a flock of Zubats, Golbats, and Crobats. The stars, faded as they were with the approaching sun, were covered by the living river of bat Pokémon.

Then... they were gone.

=*=*=

"Man, Lou, you look like shit."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Nigel shook his head, saying nothing more than letting me in and leading me to the kitchen where breakfast was already cooking. I'd packed my things and left the graveyard shortly after she'd gone, having no reason to stay. A sharp inhale of breath told me Nigel'd spotted the most telling gift she'd left me.

"Damn, Lou! Did you trip over a tombstone or something?"

I gave a snort to let him know what I thought of the comment but didn't say anything else.

"You know..." This came from Nigel's father, sitting at the table with a thoughtful look on his face as he stirred his coffee. "That mark... kind of looks like a Golpire bite."

I froze, having just about to drop my bag and the flute case on the floor. "A what?"

"Golpire," Nigel took over, giving a hidden role of his eyes then a fond smile in his father's direction. "You know the Were-Arcanine legends? Humanoid, fangie beasts? Golpires are kinda like that, but a human and a Golbat instead of an Arcanine." He slapped my back a few times. "Geeze, Lou, with all the commercials on television for Dusk and the girls going on and on about that sparkling fairy, I'd have thought you'd heard of them by now."

"He's not a fairy." Mrs. King turned from the stove to waive a spatula at Nigel. "And don't think I didn't catch those two swears. You know better, Nigel."

He seemed ready to roll his eyes again but stopped half way and just glanced at the ceiling as his mother's frown deepened.

"Yes, mom."

Even though his voice held the age old sign of boredom with parental commands, only a small tick above her eye showed before she smiled and shook her head, turning back to the stove.

"So..." I moved to the table, knowing that Mrs. King wouldn't mind the extra person. "What else can you tell me about Golpires?"



~*~*~*~*~

Thanks to Matt, Resolute, and Justing for the beta reads! Sorry for any errors, was in a rush to get it up in time. ^^;;;