"What do you mean she’s gone!" Kataryna cringed back at the rage of the Burakki Assassin. "I couldn’t trust you to keep Brooke under your watch and it seems I can’t trust you to watch a child either! I pray you two decide to never have offspring!"

Kameron stepped forward, his dark eyes blazing at Azrael. "Do not frighten my wife," he said calmly, his voice holding only the faintest edge of a quiver. "We looked after her well, fed her, set her in bed, in, might I add, a closed up house, and when we awoke in the morning, she was gone."

Azrael stalked across the floor, mumbling as Kataryna and Kameron both stepped back from him. He frightened them, he could smell it, and he needed their help. But they had failed him – he had entrusted them for a mere five days with the charge of the child, and they had lost her! The incompetence. He sighed. A part of him wanted to punish them then and there for their stupidity, but the other part reminded him that Mystik was no normal child.

"Well, we shall just have to find her then," he replied tiredly.

"You think we haven’t looked?" The normally mild-tempered young man seemed on the verge of rage himself, "we searched the entire area, as far as Cerulean and all the fields. No one has so much as seen her. And," he added, "we do have some good trackers amongst us." A Herugaa stepped from the shadows and yawned at Azarel, its canines flashing in the light as though such a thing were planned. It probably was.

Kataryna nodded. "Lucifer here can track a Pidgey," she explained, "and even he lost her trail. It’s as if she vanished off the face of the earth."

Azrael scratched his chin. "she is a dark-type," he replied thoughtfully, "we have ways of doing things beyond your recognition."

"Um, Mr Burakki," Kameron added tentatively, "Lucifer here is also a Dark Type. Dark types should know how to track there own, shouldn’t they?"

Azrael shrugged. "We are a mysterious kin," he replied, "and Mystik is more mysterious then most. I doubt even a trained psychic could track her." He paused for a moment and stared at Kameron. "And my name is Azrael," he said softly, "it would do you well to remember that, boy!"

"And my name is Kameron," Kameron returned the look.

Violet eyes gazed into dark brown ones as both men held the stare. Finally, faced with the power of the Dark Pookamon, Kameron broke his gaze. It was not good to stare into Azrael’s eyes for too long. You might trip and fall.

"We must find her," he stated. "Come with me." He turned away, his cloak swishing soundlessly around with him. He hesitated by the door, "well, are you joining me?"

"I will," Kameron replied quietly.

James was waiting outside, Buttons in his lap. He was playing with a Burakki youngster, throwing a stick which it was catching in mid air. He turned and frowned at Azrael.

"You know," Kataryna suddenly appeared to remember something, "it wasn’t just Mystik that was gone, but something else too. My notebook."

All eyes turned on her and she blushed. "My notebook, where I kept a record of all the Pookamon that came through and the route they took…"

"She has gone to the Isle," Azrael stated flatly. "There can be no other place. We must find her."

"If she has gone to the Isle," James replied, "then surely she will be safe. They will help her there. And if we continue that way, we can warn them of the impending doom."

Azrael nodded. "My thoughts entirely."

"Only, I think I would rather do the warning by myself," James mentioned, "for I feel it would be best if we were to part company."

A sly smile crossed the assassin’s face. "You would rather I was behind you?" He asked, "where you could not see me?"

This had apparently not occurred to the young man, a look of fright graced his features and he stammered. "Um, well, err, I hadn’t thought like that…"

"Are you with me?" Azrael asked.

"I guess…"

*

Some time later, the two males sped down the country road. In the back seat, Buttons and Cat glared at each other. It was not that they didn’t get along, it was more that they could sense their companions ill concealed dislike of one another and it put them on edge. Azrael had picked up the Meowth, he didn’t like leaving her alone too long, and besides, he felt he could use an ally.

"Now," James cautioned, "this time allow me to do the talking, please?"

Azrael, lounging in the passenger seat, one arm resting on the window ledge, sighed deeply. "But you are such a wimp, James," he stated. "And you will never get anything done that way."

For a moment, James tore his attention away from the road and glared at Azrael. His green eyes seemed hard, cold, and the Burakki assassin, as hardened as he was, could not suppress a shudder. He gulped.

James turned away. "Maybe that was true once," he said, "but things have changed, you know."

"Tell me about it," Azrael muttered. "Not that many years ago, I was a normal everyday Burakki and suddenly I had fingers and a thumb. Talk about a shock to the system." He fell silent, aware that he was opening up to the man without intending to.

Cat began grooming herself in the back seat, pointedly ignoring the Eevee.

Outside, the countryside gave way to a rocky beach.

James appeared to be pondering something. "Was it strange to be morphed?" He asked.

"What does it matter to you?" Azrael snapped, "you are just trying to be friendly, you do not really care. Human kin are all the same. You hate us, admit it."

"Hate you!" James almost choked. "I have devoted the last three years off my life to saving your kin!" He slammed down his foot and pulled over to a screeching halt that almost sent Azrael through the wind shield. Cat fell off the backseat with a yowl.

Azrael regained him composure quickly. "Sorry," he said quietly, startled by the fact that he felt a little afraid of this man. It was unusual for Azrael to feel afraid of anything. Something had changed in James since the two of them had last met. He seemed harder, less easily frightened or daunted. The Burakki was not sure he liked it.

"So you should be," James muttered darkly. "Ingrate."

He started the engine again and they continued down the road.

A half hour later the car began jolting violently and James was forced to pull over once more. As he opened the bonnet, billows of grey-white smoke poured out. Coughing, he waved the smoke from his face, as his eyes streamed from the acrid fumes. Azrael sprang nimbly from the car.

"Looks like she is having some difficulty," he stated, pacing back and forth. It was night time now, his time, but also the Nyura’s time and he wondered how far the child would have gone by now. It had only been a few days, and she was on foot. Surely she could not have made it to the Isle yet?

And what did it matter if she had? If she made it there, would she not be safe with her own kin? A safety that was hardly guaranteed if she stayed with the assassin.

James slammed the bonnet down with a grumble of dismay. "We won’t be going any further tonight." He stated. "Not until we find someone to fix this car."

"We’ve got to keep moving!" Azrael scowled, pacing back and forth, for some reason feeling extremely anxious, the worry seething inside him like an inner thunderstorm. He could feel the turmoil increasing, threatening to break lose in a moment. Something was going to happen, he could sense it, with all his dark powers he could feel it, sense it in the air, the ground, the whole of his being.

Something was going to happen on the Isle within the next few days and it involved not only the refugees, but Mystik, and Brooke, and even he himself. He had to be there for it.

"This baby isn’t going anywhere," James stated.

The Burakki sighed. "Then we walk," he said.

"Walk? It’s miles to the island! Are you crazy?"

"Maybe I am," Azrael stated, "maybe I am."

With Buttons and Cat in tow (and scowling at each other), the human and the Pookamon abandoned the smoking car and walked down the darkling road.

Above them the moon hung, almost full.

They had not gone far, when the road entered into trees and suddenly Azrael paused, all senses on the alert. He reached out and grabbed James by the arm.

"Something lurks here," he hissed, "waiting for us."

"Like what?" James asked. A moment too soon.

Red eyes suddenly shone at them from all angles, red eyes that glowed like tiny torches in the dark light. Instantly the two humanoids drew together, back to back. Azrael carefully and quickly drew his knife from his belt. Chittering suddenly sounded, a high pitched, shrill sound.

"Zubats!" James hissed, identifying them.

Azrael shuddered. Zubats were bad news, in any respect, but it was their ability to drain life that scared the assassin. The other thing that disturbed him was the fact that they were here, and they were attacking. Certainly wild Pokemon were frightened of Pookamon, and did attack them occasionally, but not like this… At least not in his experience. Several of the Zubats, or whatever they were, zoomed in, the shrill shrieking reaching a pitch that overloaded the Burakki’s sensitive ears. Cat, ever on the alert, sprang into the air, swiping at one with her sharp claws and batting it to the ground where it flapped and fought. The sound of her closing her jaws about its slender neck, complete with the crunching of bone, sent shivers down Azrael’s spine.

A Zubat struck him in the face, claws scratching him even through his fur. He snapped at it, almost catching it in his teeth, but missing by a hairsbreadth. He felt a shudder pass through James’s body as several of the bat’s attacked him too.

Closing his eyes, Azrael drew together as much energy as he could muster – not a lot given he was quite tired from walking such a distance, and sent it out in a circuit about him, striking as many of the beast’s down as he could. Also, due to the exertion and the adrenaline, a thin sheen of sweat was covering his fur and like his non-morphic counterparts, Azrael sweated poison. Unfortunately, this did not deter the Zubats.

He felt them latch onto him, and felt his head swimming as they began draining his energy. Behind him he could feel James collapse, the man lacking the strength of the morphic beings.

Azrael fell to his knees, the sound of the Zubat’s shrieking echoing in his ears, but there was something else too, something he had not noticed sooner.

These creatures were as unnatural as he.

As this thought sparked in his mind, it was quickly pushed away by darkness, as bright light, golden-white, shot from the creatures’ eyes and forced the last of his awareness away.