The bet up station wagon sped through the mountain pass. It was not the car they’d left in – James had picked this one up from a dealer in Ceruleon, using money borrowed from Kameron.

In the backseat, Cassandra lay curled up with Buttons, both of them asleep. In the front seat, Brooke watched what the driver and his technique with an unfaltering, unerring gaze.

"So you make it faster by pushing on that foot pedal," she stated, "and you slow it down by slamming the other foot down real hard on that one. I don’t see what’s so hard about that." She was wearing a long shirt with a couple of Nidorans drawn on it. She’d chosen it from Kataryna’s wardrobe when the four of them had stopped by CAIP. James had been much relieved to see that they were unhurt, although shaken and they were likewise amazed to see him in more or less one piece.

"Don’t you think it was odd how she said, ‘you’re alive!’ to you?" Brooke asked, "I mean, what happens if you weren’t alive, what happens if you were dead and just thought you were alive. Isn’t that a bit, you know, stating the obvious?"

"I think she was just surprised to see me, that’s all," James replied, figetting in his borrowed clothing. It appeared that Kameron was somewhat skinnier then he and to Brooke he looked as though he were trying to dance a jig in his clothing.

"I was surprised to see them too," she said, "I never expected they’d be where I left them."

James let that one lie, it was easier that way.

Snow spiralled down and bounced against the window, little flakes like the dandruff of the gods. That thought amused Brooke, as though gods would have dandruff. She idly stroked her tail. "Every little snowflake looks different from the others," she informed James, "or that’s what they say, but, I mean, how do they know? I think there’s a little pixie sitting up there in the clouds, busily taking pieces of cloud and making it into shapes. And every once in a while he, you know, gets a little bit clumsy and knocks his tray and they all fall down to the ground. They’re pretty. I’d like to keep one." She grinned, then looked sad, "I had a pet snowflake once, but I forgot to feed it and when I came back it had run away, leaving nothing behind but a puddle. I guess I should have house trained it. Say, are we nearly there yet?"

The question startled the blue-haired man, he’d become drawn into Brooke’s bizarre tale and to hear something so common place (And common sense) as "are we there yet" threw him.

"Nearly," he replied, pointing to a sign. "See, that tells us how far we’ve got to go."

Brooke peered at the sign. "It’s not saying anything," she replied.

"Oh, I forgot you can’t read," he replied, "its about ten more minutes okay?"

"Yay, we’re nearly there, and I can go and count the snowflakes and see if I can find one that looks like another one!"

"If you really want to," James replied, doubting she would have the patience, "but we’re not going to be here long, just long enough to visit the Gym, grab some supplies, fill up the car and move on into the next town."

"Why do we want to fill up the car, and with what?"

"Petrol," he replied, half-expecting the question. "Cars get thirsty too you know!"

"I knew that!" She scolded him. "And why are we going to the gym? Are you going to win a badge, with us as your Pokemon?"

He laughed at the sheer thought. "No, the Sereniti Gym specialises in flying Pokemon, and none of you three would do very well there! I have to visit the Gym Leader."

"I’m good against birds," Brooke pouted, "I just spray a fountain and the bird becomes a wet chicken and plummets, wheeee!" She mimed with her hand.

"Are we there yet?" Came a weary mumble from the back seat.

"Where yet?" Brooke replied, then laughed at the rhyme. "We’re nearly at Sereniti, and then we’ll be serene."

Cassandra sat up and leaned on the back of the seat. Beside her Buttons mumbled and rolled over, dozing off again. "Do you think this assassin’s there?" She asked.

"I wouldn’t doubt it," James replied softly, "but he may have got bored and continued on to the next stage. I hope he hasn’t hurt anyone…"

"Who is the Gym Leader at Sereniti?" Cassandra asked.

"A bird man!" Brooke replied.

"His name’s Corvid," James informed her. "He’s a strange man, rather," he paused, searching for the right word, "distant, you might say."

* * *

The hunter was bored. He had been waiting here a week already and was beginning to get decidedly worried. What happened if she did not turn up? What could possibly have delayed her so long? He moved around the small quarters, almost a hovel, really, his black cape dancing around him like it was alive. The little punk had told him that she had not been this way, that perhaps the snow had slowed her down. Could he be lying? Azrael did not think so. He was not an easy person to lie to, not at all. Even now the Gym Leader, what was his name? Raven, Crow? Something like that, lay bound and gagged in the basement. The Burakki did not want to hurt him, but it was all in his job, after all. He did not like causing unnecessary pain. Not to mention that the brat bugged him incessantly. All this black clothing and "oh my life is so terrible, how could death be worse" crap. What did he know? He was human, pure and simple, not some type of hybrid that was hated and feared.

If she did not come soon, he would have to return to CAIP, searching the entire way for her, and he would find her.

He always found what he sought.

He worried about Cat, not that he needed to, really, she was an alley cat when he found her, she knew how to look after herself.

Pacing around the room, he noticed that a few more people had entered the Gym complex, you’d think the snow would keep them away, I mean, really, coming all this way through biting snow just for a piece of metal. He peered closer and recognised them. Well, if it wasn’t the walking dead himself and not one, but two, female companions of a distinctly bestial nature.

Finally, they had come to him. He had to prepare.

Hurrying from the room and down the stairs he entered the basement. The bird man leaned against the wall, hands bound securely behind him, dark hair hanging across his pale, almost feminine, face.

"Looks like you’ve got visitors, Crow-boy," he said softly. "Now I have a request for you. I want you to be really good, and I mean behave just like you normally would when you have visitors. If you, say for example, alert them to my presence, then I shall be forced to take extreme measures.

Remember your brother, Raven?"

The pale-skinned boy nodded.

"Very good, and if you do not want to remember him again, in horrendous, glorious detail, it would be much better if you were to behave yourself. Comprehende?"

He nodded again.

"Very well." Azrael bent down and untied his hands, removing the gag. "Now remember, don’t alert them or you will remember!"

"Yes sir," he glanced at his feet.

"Very good, now hurry along, they’re waiting for you!"

For Azrael, victory was within grasp and the end was in sight. All he had to do now was to get her alone, and once again, he would be true to his trade.

* * *

"Wow, check it out!" Brooke gaped open mouthed at the arena. Having parked outside, the four of them had marched through the double doors and entered what, to Brooke, was a wonderland.

The stadium resembled a scooped out basin, from which pinnacles of rock protruded, spiralling up into the heavens, well, maybe not quite that high, but due to the altitude, their tops were lost in mist. Snow dusted the arena floor – it was completely open-air.

"Not the kind of Gym I would like to fight in," Cassandra muttered, for she being a ground type would have difficulty with the snow and the aerial requirements.

"Luckily we don’t have to fight then," James said, trying to sound cheerful, taking both of the girls by their hands. Buttons trailed along behind, looking left out a little.

"Look!" Brooke exclaimed, almost girlishly – "it’s a ladder!" She pointed to the ladder set in the side of the rock, "I could climb it and put my head in the clouds."

"Perhaps you’d see your cloud Pixie," James remarked.

Brooke stared at him as if he were mad. "Don’t be silly," she said, "Pixies don’t live in the clouds!" She dropped his hand and skipped over to investigate, her voice ringing clearly back at them, "it’s the imps what live up there!"

She reached the ladder and put her hands on the rungs. They were cold, the chill biting into her hands, searing her flesh.

"Hail!" Came a voice and she turned around, startled to find herself staring at a young man. He looked half dead – his skin was a pallid white, like the snow itself and his hair so black it only added to the sickly appearance. His eyes were green, as green as James’s, only there was something more in them, a sort of weary fear. About his shoulders hung a cape, limp and lifeless, like his appearance.

"You don’t look none to healthy," Brooke said, smiling at him cautiously. "You need some sunlight and maybe some good red meat."

"You are Brooke, yes?" He asked, his voice as dull and lifeless as he.

"How did you know that? Who told you?" Brooke was startled, unusually so. It was almost as though she could sense something was wrong with him.

"Kataryna called me earlier this week, said you would be in, but she did not mention your companions. I am Corvid Martenez, Leader of the Flying Gym."

"Hello then, Mr Corvid," Brooke said, sounding formal for her.

"I believe we’ve met before," James added, stepping forward to take Brooke’s hand in his. Brooke noticed that he seemed ill at ease around this pale and strange individual.

"Well, if you come with me, I shall show you your quarters." Corvid’s voice seemed to tremble ever so slightly, so that it was barely noticeable.

James however, was somewhat more observant then made out to be. "Is something wrong?" He asked. "We don’t come to stay, merely to find out if you are well."

"I am fine," he said, sounding slightly stilted. "But if you do not come to stay, please, at least enjoy a cup of coffee with me." His voice wavered as though he were afraid.

But what could he be afraid of? Was he afraid they would not stay and accept his hospitality?

Brooke did not like displeasing people.

"Certainly we shall drink with you sir!" She replied brightly, without giving James the chance to disagree.

The relief on the pale man’s face was evident. "I shall realish your company."

"Corvid?" James queried, "is something wrong?"

"No, no," he relied, a little too quickly. "Everything is fine, just fine, I just so rarely get visitors at this time of year."

"Very well then."

Across the mountains, the sun began to set.

* * *

"You really shouldn’t drive through the night," Corvid cautioned them. The kitchen was spotless, everything neatly put away, which surprised Brooke. Given the house itself, she had expected it to look as though someone had released a whirlwind in there and let it do its business. Brooke was more observant then she made out to be.

She sipped the coffee and immediately pulled a face. "This stuff tastes urgh!" She muttered and then glanced apologetically at Corvid, "sorry sir, but it does!"

"I agree," he replied, "it is coffee, after all. So why were you checking to see if I was fine?" He leaned on the table and stared at James. Brooke found her eyes drawn to her wrists, which seemed to be braceleted in dark bruises, purple against his white skin. He saw her attention and immediately drew his sleeve over them, smiling at her innocently.

"There was an attempt made on my life," James replied, "and on Kataryna’s. It seems someone is after Pookamon and therefore after us. I was hoping he had not become aware of your involvement in the Freedom Trail."

Corvid stretched back, "noone has come this way," he said loudly, and then leaned forward, whispering hoarsely. "Please, help me, get me out of here, he’s here and he’s watching us!"

"I told you not to say anything!" Came a voice from the shadows and out stepped a man, a tall, imposing man. His skin glowed ebony, aside from golden circlets on his forehead, about his fine plume of a tail and his long pointed ears. His muscles rippled.

A cape hung loosely about his shoulders, rippling as though it were alive and he wore close fitting black clothing, which would of blended in with his fur if it were not for the voluptuous sleeves.

"Well, Raven-boy, it seems you have failed me," he said, casually rising one hand. The golden halo between his eyes flared for a brief moment and dark shadows rippled out from his palm. They flowed towards Corvid and encircled him.

"NO!" Screamed the young man, clutching his head. He fell from his chair, his coffee mug clattering to the floor, staining it with coffee.

"Run girls!" James yelled, staggering to his feet. He had recovered somewhat from his accident, but not enough.

The assassin sprang onto the table, his swinging tail sending James tumbling over. Brooke’s heart twisted as she heard her Mr Green-eyes gasp in pain. And then she and Cassandra reacted. The Sandshrew morph leapt at him, swinging her tail about and Brooke sent a spray of water from her mouth.

And the Burakki vanished.

Cassandra screamed as the water hit her instead, bowling her off the table and onto the floor where she lay whimpering in pain and trying to get up.

And suddenly Brooke felt a heat in her ear and hands about her throat. There was a barely audible "schlink" as the assassin slid a dagger from a wrist brace and into his hand.

"Looks like I’m going to have to do this the old fashioned way," he said, and his voice was soft, almost lilting.

And as calm as time itself.

"Not if I can help it!" Brooke swung her tail about, slashing him across the back, although her blow caught mainly his cape. Then she ducked as Buttons came flying across the table, colliding with his forehead. He staggered back.

The Vaporeon-girl struggled free and ran to help James.

"No!" His voice was hoarse with pain. "It’s you he wants, run, run girl run!"

Brooke heeded the urgency in his voice. She bolted for the door.

Behind her, the assassin struggled to get the Eevee off him, as it bit and clawed.

Slamming the door behind her, Brooke stared frantically around the arena. There seemed to be only two places to go, and only one of them where he might not find her.

Up.

Approaching the nearest ladder, she braved the chill and began clambering up the rungs.

She was about half-way up, almost into the cloud layer, when she heard the door open.

She clambered faster, the chill stinging her hands but not as badly as the pain that stung her heart. Mr Green-eyes was hurt.

Cassandra was hurt.

Poor Mr Corvid and Buttons could be hurt.

And it was her fault. It was she he wanted. He he had hurt the others whilst they tried to help her.

It was all her fault.

Cloud enclosed her now, a comforting whiteness that bit through her thin clothing and into her dense fur. She did not feel the cold that badly.

Nothing but silence.

She reached the top, clambering through the cloud and stood atop a wide platform. She could see nothing around her but more cloud, at her feet like a floor that she could walk on.

And other platforms, perhaps ten feet away, further then she could jump.

For a moment she wondered if she would see any Pixies or imps, modelling snowflakes, but she was to be disappointed. And she had no escape. There was nowhere to run anymore.

She should have taken the gate.

Suddenly a movement caught her eye as the last rays of daylight reflected off the clouds.

A dark shape, standing astride a nearby platform, his hands on his shoulders.

His cloak flapping through the air like dark wings.

He smiled at her, or at least she fancied that he smiled.

"I never fail, Brooke," he said softly, yet the stillness, the chill, of the air carried it to her ears.

And he leapt into the air, and vanished.

Suddenly something barrelled into her with the speed of a freight train and she tumbled backwards, tumbling, careening through the clouds.

In a desperate, frightened attempt at survival, she closed her eyes tightly and used Hydropump.

Suddenly the clouds seemed to grow heavier, and plummeted earthwards, splashing so high that the tops of the platforms were doused.

The snow that topped the high walls like cream on a cake likewise suddenly remembered its alternative identity and sprayed inwards.

It was almost enough.

The ground met Brooke’s spine with a pain that jarred through her body and into the Burakki assassin that lay across her. Her body may have cushioned him, but it was exquisite pain never-the-less. Water sprayed around them, like a fountain and if any onlookers were to walk in now, it would look to them as if the two were lovers, surrounded by a fountain that reflected the dying sunlight in a spectrum of colours.

And to complete the appearance, Brooke’s teal hands clasped the back of the assassin’s head, threading their way into his thick mane of hair, drawing him closer to her.

And she kissed him.