Masquerade ~ Part 1

       I think most Ghosts dream. Some about their past life, if they ever had one. They relive good memories as well as their nightmares. Others dream about what their future could hold, perhaps a sunny picnic with one they love or the moment they might finally beat their greatest rival at chess (Here’s looking at you, Dean). And since Ghosts don’t sleep all that often, our dreams are said to hold more meaning than those of the average ‘mon (Suck it) because some of us have lived more than once, and if you ask around you’ll find that a few have even been to the other side. Also because we’re just nifty like that.

       Me, I dream in music. It’s hilarious, with me being as musically ungifted as I am. A thousand melodies swirl around me in myriad colors each time my glowing eye grows weak from overuse and flickers out for a well-deserved rest.

       Sometimes I even see the musical notes themselves - big clunky things. I like to count them as they flit by. I’m willing to bet they paint songs that conscious ears have never heard, but even when I direct all my energy into absorbing the rhythms and trembles, they fade into fog when I sit up and yawn in the morning. A scratch I just can’t reach. Words on the tip of my tongue. The lost design of a precious thing.

       Hmm. I wonder if Rudy could’ve . . .

       I’m fortunate to remember almost everything about my past life in Iravia, and during the first (and last) night I spent at the Pudding house, my old memories scooped me up and plopped me down in the desert grasslands where I’d been born.

       I was back in my kitling days, chasing Turtwig and tormenting Sandshrew. Then exploring the Lost Forest for the first time with Cass and Bale. I caught sight of Eury for a heartbeat after that. The dream moved too fast for me to focus on properly, but one moment I was bursting over the tussocked crest of a hill and the next I was cuddled in my mother’s arms, my little ear picking up a sound I hadn’t heard since I died two hundred sixty years ago. A heartbeat.

       I remembered that. Mother never paid me much attention - unlucky thirteenth child with colors that suggested a devil’s work, and an ugly Slakoth on top of that - but when she did, it was always a happy time.

       “Toora, loora, loora,” she crooned, picking the burrs from my fur with expert claws. “Hush now Chris, don’t you cry.”

       I blinked and reached up to pat her cheek. The old Meowstic took my wrist and smiled back, her expression misty in that way of blurring memories.

       “Over in Chazeja, many years ago, my mother sang this song to me, so sweet and low. Just a simple little ditty in her old Chazejan way. And I’d give the world if she could sing that song to me today. Toora, loora, loora, toora, loora, li . . .”

       Her voice disappeared in the dream, leaving me alone.

       I stood on a beach where the sand kicked up in salty wind. Chilled water lapped against my claws. It pulsed pink with happy songs my ears couldn’t quite catch. I picked up a stone and looked for a place to skip it. The waves were rough, but in my dream that rock skipped all the way to the red horizon and disappeared into the sunset. Music twirled about my ankles.

       But the melody fizzled out before it really got started. I awoke to the feel of icy cold waterfalling down my spine.

       “Gah - Brr - What?”

       I jolted upright, pressing my left wrist up against my mask. Droplets patted down like even rain. A line of goosebumps on my arm raced up to bite my shoulder. Dishes shifted beneath my tail.

       “I see you’re awake. I hope you had a rotten night.”

       I slid my eye to my left socket to see Adrian facing backwards in his chair, his legs wrapped around its and his arms folded over his nose. The words were harsh, but he watched me with an anxious gaze. He’d spread a rainbow feast across the table behind him. Glistening green lums and juicy blue orans encircled a bowl of chocolate chip and berry-chunk cookies like the petals on a flower. Sandwiches coated in peanut butter and dripping kelpsy and cheri jelly. I counted four pinaps each as large as my head. Enough sitrus to heal a flock of Togetic. He’d even set out tamatos, even though everyone in the entire world was pretty much in agreement that they were disgusting. With winter upon us in a matter of days, it all must have cost him a fortune. Either that or he’d happened upon some sort of Zoroark army. Otherwise, aside from a row of brown cupboards and a small icebox that sat in the corner by the hallway entrance, the kitchen seemed to be empty.

       “Pfft. Pfft. Pah. Blech.” I spat soap bubbles onto the counter. “C’mon man, for real? Is that any way to treat one of your great, great, emphasis on super-great grandparents? Not this shiny Duskull, no sir.”

       The Chespin slit his eyes to amber gashes. He glared at me, and I regretted my scolding tone way fast.

       “This is our home. Not an orphanage. You are not a guest, you are a stowaway. You lost my respect the moment you let yourself in uninvited like a common thief. I am entitled to treat you however I want.”

       I weighed the syntax of his words in my mind. “Right.” My gaze flickered down. I still had my bracelets on, but a familiar weight around my neck had gone missing. For half a moment I thought I’d dropped my scarf among dishes and soap. Then I noticed the looseness of my mask and the crack down the middle and I remembered.

       “Okay.” I smiled the sweetest smile, even though I knew full well that Adrian couldn’t see my expression. “Why am I in the sink?”

       “Woman put you there after you fell off the table.”

       His lie was obvious, but the idea of picking a fight didn’t much appeal to me. I arched my back in a stretch and crawled out from among the chinking dishes. Flick, it would take ages to wring out my tail. I hate getting wet.

       “You gonna eat all that?”

       Adrian turned back to the table. He blinked at all the food as if taking in the feast for the first time. “I guess I am.”

       “Good. I’d hate to see it just rot. You could keep Marissa fed all day with that goldmine.” I twitched my tail and sprang off the counter. I bobbed to the right and bumped into the wall, then used it to flip over backwards and float to the table. My fingers settled on the edge. “Hey, can I put this rawst jam on some toast? This stuff’s my favorite.”

       “No,” Adrian said, reaching for a thin fleshcap. Then he gave me a second look and a snort. “All right. Okay. Fine. But you’ll have to wait for Woman. Since her flare’s come back, I’d rather not start a fire by hand. I singed my fingers last time around.”

       “Cool beans, dude. I won’t mess with the rest of your stuff, I promise.” I twisted the lid off the jar and glanced towards the hallway. “Where’s the ‘Zaru anyway?”

       The Chespin gazed at me over a stack of sandwiches, and I saw the light of silent impatience flicker in his eyes.

       “Hikozaru? You know, the Chimchar? Aurora, your Guild partner? Never mind. That fad was on its way out when I was born. Mm.” I pushed up my mask and ran my tongue over the lid of the jar. I hadn’t had rawstberry for awhile, not since Atlas took out half the city’s crop and prices skyrocketed like mad. Blue goop dripped on my chest. Adrian made a gagging noise. I lowered the jar back to the table.

       “Oh. Sorry. I guess you’ll want this.”

       His shoulders were up to his ears. “Keep it. I can’t stand the stuff anyway.”

       “Sweet, thanks man. Can I have a cookie too?”

       He put one hand to his cheek and held the bowl out to me. I ate two of the berry-chunk kind (They were surprisingly spicy for a treat known for its sweetness) and slurped half a quart of milk from the jug. Adrian’s whiskers twitched, but instead of telling me off he scooted his chair a little farther down the table. That wasn’t good. I needed him open-minded, not withdrawn back into the fearful lump he’d made the night before.

       “These aren’t so great,” I said, brushing crumbs from my mouth. They fell in a heap on the floor, and Adrian’s eyes shot to them instantly. “I’m disappointed, Crest. I’d heard better things about your baking skills.”

       His gaze snapped back up. “Of course you wouldn’t like them, I made them with my own preferred tastes in mind. Those happen to be cheri and you’re an easygoing sort of temperament.”

       I shrank back, clinging to my jar of jam. Confrontation had never been my strong point. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

       “It means that when I include berries in my cookies-” Adrian stopped himself short, frozen half-rising from his chair. He sized me up, then must have decided I wasn’t worth the breath it took to say my name. He shook his head, long ears flapping, and settled himself back down. “Never mind.”

       A pause, which we both filled with the loudest crunching of food we could manage as if to say to the other, I don’t care Totodile spit what you think of me and to prove it I will beat you at the silence game.

       Five minutes must have passed in this manner, until at last I folded my arms on the table and turned away in a huff so it would be obvious that I knew about his little game and was conceding my defeat and his superiority. “I guess they weren’t so bad.”

       Adrian picked up a piece of fudge, looking down at the floor. “Who were you talking with about me and my cookies?”

       “Oh . . . No one important. Just this Gothita I accidentally befriended the other day.”

       He squished the fudge in his fist. “Rudyard. That figures. I should’ve known it the instant you said ‘heard’.”

       “You know him?” I asked, feigning disbelief.

       “Know him? We’ve bumped into one another more often than I would care to. He’s only been sticking his nose around here for the past three days. Yesterday I warned him that if he showed up again, he’d leave sick to his stomach and going prematurely bald.”

       “Are we talkin’ ‘bout Rudy? Geez, did he show up here this early? I swear that kid lives off five minutes a’ sleep a night.”

       I turned to my right to see the Chimchar step into the kitchen, rubbing her right eye. Her left hand hung near the ground, clutching the arm of a singed and tattered . . . I don’t even know what it was. Some sort of stuffed blue creature that she’d gotten her money’s worth out of, that was sure. She was off-limits for my potential possessing and if it were a week ago I wouldn’t have paid a lick of attention to her because of it, but Rudy had mentioned her specifically just before we’d exchanged our good-byes.

       “There’s a target on her back. It’s meant for someone else.”

       “Looking good, morning glory,” I said. I waved my tail, my hands folded in front of my mouth. Aurora stared back at me through heavy-lidded emerald eyes, then fixed her attention on the cookie bowl in front of Adrian.

       “Huh. I was hoping you were a bad dream.”

       I wrinkled my nose. “That’s not very nice.”

       “S’not my job to be nice to slippery Ghosts who dance inna my home uninvited.”

       Flicking a cookie her way I said, “You two are way more alike than either one of you wants to admit.”

       Aurora glanced at Adrian as if waiting for him to say something, but he was up to his nose in fruit salad and had yet to acknowledge her presence. “Neither one of us likes you, if that’s what ya mean.”

       “I don’t get it, Aurora. What’s so bad about Ghosts? We’re just Pokémon. We’re just like you.”

       “Yeah, but you’re creepy. You float and you’re cold and you go through walls and possess people and you got tons of memories and you can’t ever be killed again. I like dead people to stay dead.” Her shoulders shifted, and she looked away. “Can ya call me Rory? I like that better too.”

       I sighed inside my mask. Related or not, we certainly weren’t family.

       Rory must have noticed. She tilted her head, still scowling. “I’m sorry, but I can’t change how I feel just at a snap. I’ve met way too many bad Ghosts in my lifetime. Rip your guts out as soon as look’t ya. You see this? Me talkin’ to you civil-like ‘stead of screamin’ my head off? Where I come from, we’d call that a miracle.”

       “It certainly is an improvement over last night.” I slipped another berry chunk beneath the sharp teeth of my mask. It was kasib, and the pink juice dribbled down my chin. “I suppose it’s a start. You’ll see. When I leave at the end of winter, you’ll be glad you had me here. We’ll split on good terms.”

       Adrian snorted. “You and Woman can party all season for all I care, so long as you don’t invite any of your friends. The number of dead ‘mon in this household is not going to exceed one, and that’s a generous amount. I’d just love to hand over my body to the first Ghost who comes along asking if they can possess me.” He buried his face in his hands. “Wake me up when the pinaps start budding out front.”

       I narrowed my eye.

       Rory nibbled on the leaf of a leppa berry, staring at him again. “Hey Plum, were you sayin’ Rudy came back this mornin’? That’d be great, ‘cuz I gotta whole lotta fire I need ta let out somewhere.”

       “Don’t get too excited. There’s been no sign of him yet.” Adrian twitched his ears in my direction. “Kit says he . . . she . . . Er, Kit claims to have talked with him not long ago.”

       Rory’s gaze shifted to me in silent, irritated question.

       “Dude, everyone knows Rudy. Even if you don’t remember talking to Rudy, you’ve probably talked to Rudy. And if you haven’t, you shouldn’t expect to live in bliss that much longer.”

       “Uh-huh . . .”

       I rested my chin on interlaced fingers. “Hey man, when there’s a Wailord around that flies like a dragon and is prone to crushing various parts of the city, you’d kind of have to be deaf not to hear that Gothita’s name every once in awhile. I actually sought him out intending to talk to Marissa, but she was . . . occupied.”

       Rory shrugged and slid out a chair. It squeaked against the hard wood floor. “I was just teasin’ anyway. I don’t punch babies. Aw man, is it snowin’ again?”

       Adrian leaned back in his seat to stare out the kitchen window. I craned my head to follow his eyes. When I’d arrived last night, yellow-green grass had sprouted all across the thin patch between the house and dirt road. Now a thin layer of white coated all but the very tips of the blades, and the stuff was still coming down in light twirling flakes that glistened with plant-killing malice.

       “Hmm.” I tapped my fingers against the table. “And here I was thinking it’d be a good day to lie about in the sun.”

       “Lie about in the sun.” Amusement glittered all across Rory’s tone. I slid my eye to my right socket to give her a wary look.

       “Why is this funny?”

       Adrian turned around, his face absolutely expressionless (Instead of all grumpy, I mean). “Woman and I were talking last night about the arrangements we would be making now that you’ll be here four months.”

       “I sleep in the room filled with junk and eat cookies and you act like I’m not here, right?”

       “Aha. Ha. Ha.” He pronounced each word individually, not even blinking. “It isn’t junk, it’s my collection-”

       “Horde.”

       “-but we’ve decided that if you’re going to stay with us, you’re going to work with us and earn your keep.”

       I twisted my tail first one way, then the other. “Yeah . . . that’s a cool idea and all, but unless you have precious plants lying around dying in the winter cold, work isn’t really my thing.”

       Rory said, “Well, maybe ya should’ve thought about that when ya wriggled your way into this house.”

       Geez, who raised such sassy kids?

       Adrian was standing now, his hands loosely clasped in front of him and his eyes twitching at the corners. “You should know as well as anyone how Guild life alone pays.”

       “Hm. Too bad you Researchers don’t get free room and board like the rest of the Guilds. I guess that’s what happens when they spend tax money on classrooms instead of beds. That free-for-use chemistry room and library bonus really sucks now, doesn’t it? Maybe you should have invested in an apartment instead of buying a freaking house in a city no one in their right mind stays in for longer than five years. Don’t say my sibs never taught their descendants how to manage personal finance.”

       The Chespin flicked a whisker. “May I continue?”

       “Hey moron, shut up while he’s tryin’ a’ talk.”

       I turned to Rory, glaring my ghostiest glare, and she shrank behind the bread loaves with a soft whimper.

       “It’s not about a lack of money so much as it is a matter of you making yourself useful while you feed off our resources. Especially when you are a Duskull that is not required to eat in order to sustain life.” He scowled at me. Hard. I took my fingers out of the rawst jam jar and lightly set the lid on top.

       “Yeah. Yeah, I get the picture. I go out, I get a job, and everything I earn goes straight to you until I leave. Whatever, it’s cool. What are you doing while all this is going on?”

       Adrian’s ears went flat against his head. “I’m going off duty for the season.”

       “Oh you are, are ya?” Rory rolled her eyes and stuffed a handful of tortilla chips in her mouth. “Let me know how you’re plannin’ to follow through with that.”

       He shot her a sharp look (Those seem to run thick in this family), brows raised. Then he shook his head and looked back to me. “I’ll help you find a job to apply for this afternoon. For now I’m going to the Researchers’ Guild to get ready for a very important project of mine, and you get to come with me.”

       I pressed my brows together, my soft flesh scraping the inside of my half-broken mask. “You serious?”

       “Why should I lie?”

       “Dude, have you looked at me? I’m a Hunter. I set finger in the Researchers’ headquarters and they’ll flay me dead.” My arms crossed almost of their own accord. “I got a better idea. I stay here with Rory - I’ll clean up this mess or something - and you come back and pick me up when you’re done with whatever nerdy crud you stuck-up dweebs do.”

       Adrian’s long tail puffed up like a pinecone, but aside from a slight quiver his voice remained calm. “Or you could show how thankful you are that two little Iravians known for their shared fear of Ghost-Types offered to take you in even without proof that you are actually as related to us as you claim to be, and do as I have asked.”

       “S’not a fear,” muttered Rory, “just scaven dislike.”

       “Scathing.”

       “That’s what I said.”

       I flexed out my red fingers, then curled them up again. My tail was halfway through the floor, flicking through the dust of the Underside. I took my mind away for a brief instant, stretching my senses far, far out as I tracked down Roland’s shadow. There was a fuzzy feeling to the south, but the sensation was so faint I almost wasn’t sure if it was him at all. Almost.

       Roland would have gone, no doubt, unless someone tried to tell him he should. He’d spin things around so he was undertaking a super-secret mission to sneak into the Researchers’ Guild and check out hot babes. I mean spy on enemy forces.

       Iravian sands and Chazejan stars, I didn’t want to go. Chances were that Robin wasn’t on the lookout for me, not when he had a kazillion other things to do with the Hunters, but . . . What if? I’d broken his no-possessing rule one too many times now. Maybe he’d sent word to the Researchers to be on the lookout for a red Duskull with three sharp spikes on its mask. Flecked feathers, I really needed to make a new one. One without a crack down its center would be preferable.

       “What about her?” I asked, cocking my head towards Rory. “At the party, you told me she eats and sleeps and that’s about it. What’s she doing today? Does she have a job?”

       “I am fixin’ sandwiches and nonperishable foods for our trip right through the Subseed Dungeon any day now.” She announced this with a great deal of personal pride, as if she thought she were announcing the discovery of a new continent.

       “The Dungeon! Shady Shiftry, in all the chaos I nearly forgot.” I glanced towards Adrian with a flutter of hope. “New plan: How’s about I tag along with you guys to Geoda, and job-hunting waits until after we come back.”

       Adrian snapped his fingers, speaking not to me but to Rory. “That reminds me. Yesterday I spoke with Chantelle, asking if she would take you on as her apprentice. She rejected that offer even after I told her you were Iravian born and Iravian bred, but I think she may have wavered. She did tell me you were welcome to visit her shop any time you were in the mood for reorganizing her stock. And she said wants to teach you how to sew a proper darning stitch.”

       “Great.” She shoved a fist across her mouth. “Thanks.”

       “So, Dungeon?” I asked, hugging my rawst jam.

       Adrian looked my way again, but ignored my question completely. “My things are in the Guild library. I’ll help you get settled, but then I need to . . . meet with someone. How do you feel about dictation?”

       “What, you mean like, writing down all the crap people spout at me? That sounds incredibly boring. There is nothing in this world I hate more than science and technology, and . . .” I played with the blue bracelet on my wrist. “Look dude, I’m sorry, but if I have to listen to you ramble on about it all day, I think I’ll go insane.”

       “That would almost make two of us, then. But I don’t want you transcribing for me - I’d rather take my own notes. Actually, I was hoping that today you could assist Miriam, Ridlay, Ezekiel, and whoever else is there in making copies of older texts or schoolwork packets. It will keep you occupied for a little while until we can search for jobs around town. You know. Possibly for the rest of the day. In the snow. With half the city leaving for Geoda, finding work shouldn’t be too difficult.”

       When had I started following Adrian towards the door?

       “Good-bye!” Rory called, waving after us with considerable mirth. She had three loaves of berrybread in her arms. “I’ll catch up with ya ‘bout noon! Save me a seat!”

       Adrian flicked his tail in silent reply, hugging a small notebook to his chest as he ducked out into the cold. I hesitated, taking in the warmth of the house before following. Truth be told, I owed the Puddings more than they knew, and if I had to secure work in order to stay with them, well . . . Work would take my mind off Roland’s disappearance anyway. Besides, I’d rather stick with Adrian than Rory and her territorial friend.

       I flicked snow from my hood and hurried up the street to catch up with Adrian. “All right. So. How exactly are we planning to sneak me inside another Guild’s headquarters without them trying to kill us both?”

       The Chespin scratched his cheek. “We could go in through one of the conference rooms. They have doors straight to the outside specifically to allow members from other Guilds in and out. But there are three rooms and I’m not sure which ones are in use today, or even unlocked.” He added something in a mutter under his breath, then more loudly went on with, “And they’re all across the building from each other so we might have to circle around a few times and I’m cold.”

       I set aside a mental note of his words. “What about windows?”

       “There aren’t many. Chelle likes it that way in order to eliminate as many distractions or variables as possible, like cold wind or someone making faces outside. In this weather especially, they won’t be open.”

       The Pudding house crouched on the outskirts of the city limits, just close enough to the Fog that the sky shimmered when the light was right and near enough to some of the taller buildings that at night the windows twinkled like stars from a distance.

       I spotted a Cinccino and a Quilava out and about in the snow as we turned on to a few more residential streets, but that was all and I wasn’t surprised. Few people planned to stay in Andalusst long enough to use up funds on permanent (but admittedly pretty) houses of their own, and of them they were the kind who were retired and old. I knew the type - They stayed cooped up in their warm little houses while the younger Guild members ran about doing dirty work, but never seemed to miss a party or forget to reap their Guild discounts. Most all of them had defected to the Researchers after their quote-unquote “amassed vacation days”. I didn’t plan to be one of them. Of course, I had an infinite amount of years left in me.

       “I could play Santa,” I offered, flicking back to Adrian’s side. For someone with such huge feet he could shuffle along pretty fast when he wanted to. “Does Chelle like chimneys? Hazel likes chimneys. You should see the fireplace in the lobby. Someone - Rowanhardt, I think - makes sure each Hunter has a stocking from Chantelle’s every year, whether they want it or not.” I fell silent then, wondering if Robin would lift my probation in time for the annual party. Maybe I would sneak back in anyway.

       Adrian peered at me with narrow eyes, but whether it was out of annoyance or because of the falling snow I couldn’t be sure. “‘Playing Santa’? I’m not familiar with that term.”

       “Yeah, you know, Santa Claus. The legendary Delibird that travels with a herd of Stantler and slides down chimneys to give presents to all the good little kids. You’ve never heard of Santa? Or Christmas, haven’t you ever celebrated Christmas?”

       Adrian blew snowflakes from his notebook. “That sounds like a ridiculous holiday. Is it even real?”

       I paused, letting Adrian lope on ahead. We had reached the crest of a slight rise, and where I stood (Er, floated) I could see over half the city. There were people down there, some bundled in scarves and coats and others dragging carts on icy roads. The merchants hunkered beneath their tents, not in the best mood for auctioning off their wares. A few trees, mostly bushes with yellowing leaves that made me cringe.

       High on its hill, accepting its place of honor with pride, blazed the Beacon. Its white beam shot upwards in a constant stream, piercing the gray underbelly of soft clouds and reaching on forever all the way into the sun, or so they said. I’d never bothered to check it out. Even before the Puddings had arrived in Andalusst I’d come up to this place several times. I hadn’t gotten tired of the view yet. Of course, there were better ones.

       “Are you coming?” Adrian asked, swiveling back to stare up at me.

       “Say what, man? Oh. Yeah. Christmas.” I dove down the hill after him and circled him once before settling into an easier pace shoulder to shoulder. He winced at my closeness. I took pleasure in it. “Some people celebrate it. Go out and decorate the trees in the park with popcorn garlands and shiny balls, stars and things. Twinkling lights. They’ll be doing it soon, probably after the adventurers get back from Geoda. Keep your eyes out. Get a date and go for a walk at night. It’s really a beautiful thing.” I looked away, swerving around a Shinx who came bounding towards us up the path. “Roland was way sick last year, and Santa didn’t come to see him. I did it instead. He still believes it.”

       “Why?”

       “Because I’m awesome. I had help. I remember it like it was yester-”

       “No, not that.” Adrian paused at the bottom of the hill. Puddles had gathered from melted snow and trampled slush, and he hesitated before jumping into the stuff. The grimace that flashed across his face told me that the ground was even colder and wetter down here in the open than it had been up between the sheltered houses and trees. “I mean, why do they celebrate this holiday? We have the Festival of Lights - Did they have that when you lived in Iravia? Anyway.” He shrugged and shook his head, flinging droplets from his ears. “I was wondering.”

       I hesitated before I answered, feeling at my neck for a rust-colored scarf that wasn’t there. “Nikki said it’s meant as a memory. They’re honoring a ‘mon who doesn’t live anymore. I don’t know who.”

       Adrian shrugged. “Maybe I’ll ask Chelle. She would know.”

       “Maybe you should. It could be interesting.” I swooped down to gather snow in my hands. It burned my fingertips as I rolled it into a ball. “But seriously, I’m way more interested in the presents. It’s the one part about this holiday that makes sense to me - Everyone’s supposed to give gifts and stuff. Last year I got like ten scarves. I brought them back to Chantelle and struck it rich. Best day ever.”

       I thought Adrian wasn’t going to say it, and he didn’t for a long time. But as the city buildings grew taller and more clustered around us, he did. “What sort of thing did you give to your partner?”

       “How old are you?”

       “In common-year? Seventeen.”

       “Then I’ll tell you when you get older.” I chucked my snowball at the nearest lamppost and slipped my hands beneath my mask so I could suck them warm again. “It’s not much farther.”

       “I know.”

       “So we should go back to figuring out how to get me in. I can’t exactly waltz through the front door. I don’t have feet. What’s the state on chimneys?”

       Adrian shook his head again. “I’ve never seen one. Unless you count the fume hoods in the chemistry rooms, but Solistice shut down all but one when the snow came, so the last room is bound to be full of curious people running their last tests before they leave for the salt halls.”

       “Are you freakin’ serious, man? How hard is it to break into this place? I could name like six ways to sneak unnoticed into the Hunters’ Guild.” I paused, pursing my lips. “Or at least they were secret ways for about four years, but in a building chock-full of wannabe spies it didn’t take long for boastful kids to blab about them all.”

       “It’s not as though this is the sort of thing I do on a daily basis,” grunted Adrian, turning left at the next corner. We were nearly at the market, and even from here I could see the gleam of the dome that topped the Researchers’ headquarters. “Unlike some people, I don’t make a point of breaking the rules.”

       “Then that’s what’ll get you killed someday.”

       “You’re a Ghost, can’t you pass through walls?”

       I spotted a Banette in a hood padding up the street and ducked behind Adrian, only to realize a second later it wasn’t Robin, or anyone else I recognized. Still, this deep in the city I needed to tread more carefully.

       I sighed. “Not into any room I haven’t been explicitly invited into. That privilege disappeared as soon as I switched from bodiless spirit to Duskull.”

       “And possession?”

       I glanced away into a frozen puddle on my right. I could just barely see a ragged reflection of the top of my mask. “Same rules apply. No permission, no control.”

       Adrian stopped walking knee-deep in a snowdrift. “Is that true of all Ghost-Types? And to think I worried all those years for nothing.”

       “. . . Yeah. Yeah, guess you did.”

       He shook snow from his fur, suddenly perking up. “If that’s the case, my dream to catalog every species just got simpler. Oh, drat.” He scraped flakes from the pages of his notebook, hissing in disgust. The ink splatters on top caught my attention.

       “Hey, is that me? Did you draw me? While I was sleeping?”

       “Of course not. That would be rude. Look, it’s the door.”

       I dragged my gaze away from Adrian’s paper pad as he hopped up the three stone steps and pressed his nose to the glass doors.

       “There are ‘mon in the halls,” he reported, turning back to me with twitching whiskers, “but I doubt they’ll identify you as a Hunter. You can walk straight in. Float.”

       Still, I hovered to the side, my back pressed against the smooth, almost plastic surface of the walls.

       “If you have something to say then spit it out - I’m freezing my tail off.”

       “Fine. It’s cool.” I tapped on my mask, a lump jumping into my throat when it nearly fell off. “I’ll just shadow-lock onto you.”

       Adrian looked blank, his hands still flat against the glass.

       “I’ll use my Shadow Sneak. You know, take the form of your shadow. I’ll be shaped like a Duskull, so we’ll just have to be careful not to let anyone notice, but the floor in there is nice and flat so as long as you don’t go - I don’t know - throwing yourself into foam pits, I’ll be fine. Here, put on my bracelets.” I tugged the shiny jewelery from my wrist and handed them to Adrian. He regarded them both like he expected them to sprout wings and fly out of his palms.

       “What do they do?”

       “They don’t do anything. They’re just mine. I’ve had them ever since I last joined the Hunters, and I don’t want them getting lost.”

       Adrian twitched each ear in turn and slid the blue ring up to his elbow, then the purple. Once he was done he curled in his toes and screwed up his face. “All right. I’m ready.”

       “It’s not going to hurt,” I said, rolling my eye. I let myself dissolve. Flecks of red blurred at the edges of my vision, mixing with the falling snowflakes as I melded with the Chespin’s shadow. Though it shouldn’t have hurt him, I sensed Adrian flinch over my head.

       “You’re fine,” I told him, stretching up a hand to pat him on the foot. “It’s done. Although you’re not the prettiest sight from this angle, I don’t mind saying.”

       Adrian opened his eyes and examined his shadow, waving his arms and flicking his tail. “That is strange,” he decided at last. “Do all . . . ‘shadow-locking’ Ghosts manifest themselves in this way?”

       “Sometimes.”

       “Sometimes,” he repeated, but though he didn’t sound all that impressed he didn’t sound all that disheartened. He straightened up, hugging his notebook close with one hand. The other, with my bracelets dangling and clacking, pushed open the door. Down below, I mimicked his movement and grit my tiny teeth together.

       “All right. Let’s do this thing.”

       Again Adrian glanced down at me, brushing snow from his thick chest fur and letting it fall in a pattering of wet. “It’s not all that dramatic.”