Claire fell to her knees, clutching her chest. Her head was spinning, and her mind felt like it had just been stretched across a thousand miles and then shoved back into her body. Beside her, Rasmus was staring up at the High Dzong—the home of the Pokemon League in the remote Tubon Plateau.
"I'll fly back," said Claire, still breathing heavily.
Rasmus laughed.
"You'll... get used to it," he said softly.
Claire doubted it. Teleporting with Rasmus felt like being tossed in a washing machine with a hungry Darkrai. It wasn't just that it made her sick to her stomach. Being so close to Rasmus—with no barrier between his mind and hers—filled her with a primal terror. She shook herself, and crawled slowly to her feet.
The High Dzong was hundreds of years old—and perhaps even older than that—harkening back to an ancient kingdom dedicated to the teachings of the School of Balance. While Claire regarded the present Team Balance as pathetic, lacking in both ambition and achievement, she knew enough about the history of the Four Regions to respect the Pokemon masters that had ruled from the High Dzong. They had been powerful, and ruled the Tubon Plateau with an iron fist up until the Second Pokemon War. Now, it was a retreat—a hideaway for the weak and discredited Pokemon League. Eventually, she and her father would rule all the Four Regions from its halls.
For now, however, it was a simple matter of getting in and out without being seen or heard.
"What is it?" asked Liam.
Taylor shrugged.
"I dunno. Can't see. Liz said it was something about Team Power."
"Oh. great."
Liam tried to push his way to the front of the crowd of students, but with limited success. Miss Snyder, Professor Wort, and Professor Shrike were fruitlessly attempting to disperse the onlookers. They were guarding what seemed to be graffiti on the inner wall of the schoolyard, written in vibrant white and gold. Liam could just make out the top of the letters "T-E-A-M."
"I promise it'll still be here to stare at later," Miss Snyder was saying. "Now get to class. The bell is going to ring in—."
A shadow passed over the students, and everyone looked up to see Silas' black Charizard whirling overhead.
"Oh, way to make a low-key entrance, Silas," said Miss Snyder, rolling her eyes.
The Pokemon League champion, wearing his usual trench coat and sunglasses, dismounted his Charizard and pushed his way through the crowd of students. They all fell silent as Silas reached the front of the group, eager to hear what he would say.
"This happened this morning?" said Silas.
Miss Snyder nodded. Silas took off his aviator sunglasses and hung them on the collar of his shirt.
"They put the gate guard's Mightyena to sleep," said Professor Wort. "I found traces of Spore on its fur."
Silas crossed his arms.
"This is weird," said Silas, lowering his voice.
The students crowded closer, and the hush became absolute.
"I thought you said Team Power didn't have a presence in Everspring anymore," said Professor Shrike—rather sharply, Liam thought.
"No," said Silas again. "They shouldn't. Something's off about this whole thing. Either we're getting played for— ."
Someone's phone was ringing. Miss Snyder fumbled with her jacket and picked up the call.
"Yes? Yeah, he's here."
She passed the phone to Silas.
"It's Fei."
The students crowded even closer, hoping to hear the voice on the other end.
"Fei?" said Silas. "Yeah, I just got here. What's—?"
There was dead silence. In the distance, Liam heard the school bell ring, but nobody moved.
"What?" said Silas, sounding genuinely alarmed. "He's there? Yes, I'll be—no don't try to… I'm on my way."
He handed the phone back to Miss Snyder with a single word.
"Rasmus."
The students immediately began whispering and muttering to each other. Silas grabbed the first Pokeball on his belt, released his Charizard, and flew away into a gray morning sky.
"Alright, excitement's over," said Miss Snyder, trying to herd the students in the direction of the main school building. "Gawping at the League Champion isn't grounds for an excused tardy. Get moving."
As the crowd of students dispersed, Liam finally got a clear look at the message:
"TEAM POWER IS COMING."
"Vaguely ominous," he said lightly.
"Yeah," said Vasilio, who was standing next to him. "Also Claire-level theatrical."
"Could be," said Liam evasively.
"Hold them off," said Rasmus.
He was sweating, and his skin was unusually pale. Prying open the door to the High Dzong's vault was clearly taking everything he had.
"Easy for you to say," said Claire irritably. "Bisharp, Iron Head! Zebstrika, Thunderbolt on that Mienshao!"
Fei, the young Flying-type gym leader from Jadetower City, hadn't been too hard to deal with. Claire's Zebstrika made short work of Fei's airborne team, while Rasmus had overpowered the other guards without a struggle. The lavishly-decorated interiors of the Dzong would have been a maze to Claire, but Rasmus had known exactly where they were going. Within a few minutes, they had found the vault, and Rasmus had gone to work attempting to force it open. Time wasn't on their side. By now, Silas knew they were here, and he was rushing back to the Tuban Plateau. And the rest of the Blackwing Crew—Nanzo's Elite Four—could be even closer.
"Braviary, Tailwind!" shouted Claire. "Bisharp, use Night Slash! Zebstrika—."
"Hey, Raz," said a drawling voice. "Fancy seein' you here."
Rasmus whirled around. On the far end of the corridor, a lanky, slouching trainer with thick glasses and a beatnik goatee was looking at the intruders with a bemused expression.
"That's Dennis," said Rasmus to Claire. "The Elite Four's Electric-type master."
"Great," said Claire. "That's just great. Now get that door open before—."
"Who's the girl, Raz?" said Dennis, taking a Pokeball out of his pocket. "Seems a little young for you. Anyways, Silas would be a little upset if I let you break into the vault and get your Pokemon back, so—."
"Shut him up," said Rasmus through clenched teeth. "I need to... focus."
Dennis spun his Pokeball on the tip of his finger like a basketball.
"Send 'em packin,' Shadow," said Dennis.
A black Manectric sprang from the Pokeball. With a loud bark, it lunged at Bisharp, clamping its electrified jaws on its metal armor.
"Crap," said Claire. "Bisharp, shake him off! Zebstrika, Flame Charge on that Manectric. Rasmus, if you don't have that thing open in—."
"Quiet!" said Rasmus. "It's… almost…"
KRAAAANG.
There was an ear-splitting noise of metal bending under intense force. The huge door of the vault lurched open as its hinges crumbled. Rasmus sprang into the opening, leaving Claire alone in the corridor to face Dennis and the league guards. As he disappeared, Claire heard another sound—a sound that turned her rising anxiety into real panic.
CHAAAR!
"Rasmus!" she called. "He's here! We need to leave."
Dennis chuckled.
"You shouldn't let Raz drag you into things," he said to Claire, with the air of someone giving obvious advice to a young friend. "It never works out."
Claire gritted her teeth. She had no intention of getting captured. She wondered whether Braviary could outrun Silas' Charizard. She'd done it before. If she could recall her other Pokemon and jump onto her Braviary, she might be able to escape before Silas could catch up with her—assuming she could even find her way out of the High Dzong's interconnected halls and winding passages.
CHAARR!
Silas and his Charizard were in the corridor. There was no escape now. Claire thought about how disappointed her father would be. She had messed up again.
"Get your Pokemon."
It was Rasmus. He was clutching a belt of dusty Pokeballs in his hand. Claire quickly scanned the corridor. Her Zebstrika lay fainted against the wall. Her Bisharp was still struggling with Dennis' shiny Manectric, unable to wrench itself free from the Pokemon's jaws. Her Braviary, its feathers singed and ruffled, was whirling overhead. Claire rushed to recall her Pokemon as she felt Rasmus' hand on her shoulder.
"Let's go," he said.
"Wait!" said Claire. "I haven't—."
But she could already feel her mind being jerked upwards—her body dissolving into energy as she left the High Dzong behind.
Chelsea was rummaging frantically through her locker, pulling out textbooks, crumpled papers, empty Potions, and unused notebooks and scattering them on the floor. Marsha was watching her with obvious concern.
"It's got to be here," said Chelsea irritably. "Why wouldn't they—?"
Marsha glanced at Liam, silently begging him to intervene.
"You alright, Chez?" said Liam cautiously.
Chelsea peeked around the door of her locker.
"I'm looking for something," she said mysteriously.
"Yeah, I gathered," said Liam. "Do you need help?"
She gave a defeated sigh.
"No," she said. "It's just that I don't… get it."
She squatted down and began to listlessly collect her scattered belongs and stuff them back in her locker. Liam leaned over to help her.
"You don't get what?" said Liam.
Chelsea looked at him as though the answer was obvious.
"Why wasn't there a message?"
"What?"
Chelsea frowned, as if Liam were being intentionally dense.
"Remember the notes, bro?" she elaborated. "Everything else that's happened… there's been a note in my locker. Did they not..?"
Chelsea noticed the uncomfortable expression on Liam's face.
"What?"
"Come on," said Liam as he collected and smoothed out Chelsea's crumpled papers. "You like a good conspiracy. Who do you think has been sending these notes? Who has—."
"It's not Claire," said Chelsea quickly.
Liam blinked. Chelsea snatched the paper from him and shoved them into her locker, slamming it shut.
"I just… know it," said Chelsea. "Trust me, it's…"
She bit her lip.
"Okay," said Liam. "I'll… trust you. But we still have a mystery, then. If this isn't Claire sending you messages for her own reasons, then who is? And why didn't they tell us about—?"
"Perhaps they were… oblivious of the vandalism," suggested Marsha, clearly reaching deep into her mental catalogue of SAT words.
Liam shrugged.
"I guess that's… possible," said Liam. "Either way, there's something off about this."
Chelsea nodded. Liam was thinking back to Hempshear Town, to his rooftop conversation with Claire. He must have said something. Something he shouldn't have. Maybe that was why she was there in the first place. It wasn't about him. She was just using him.
"It's not your fault," said Chelsea.
Liam raised an eyebrow. He couldn't believe he had given away that much without even opening his mouth, but Chelsea was unusually astute—at least when it came to other people's secrets.
"I think it probably is," said Liam. "But… nothing I can do about it now."
As soon as they rematerialized on the roof of the Team Power hideout, Claire began a frantic search of her belongings. She found her Pokeballs on her belt. Braviary was there—so was Zebstrika. But her last Pokeball was empty.
They had left her Bisharp behind.
Claire tried to control herself—tried to suppress the welling of panic that was already making her hands tremble. If Rasmus saw her like this—but he already knew. He knew everything. And the tears were already flowing down her face.
"We have to go back!" she said wildly. "My Bisharp, he—."
"We can't go back," said Rasmus. "Get another Pokemon. Your Bisharp is—."
"I went there for you!" spat Claire. "I went their so you could get your stupid Pokemon back, and now you're telling me that—."
"My Pokemon are strong," said Rasmus. "Yours are replaceable. But you don't really believe that, do you? You thought you proved it when you threw away your Bouf—."
"Shut up!" shouted Claire. "You're… I wish I had left you in that cocoon to rot!"
Rasmus' expression was blank, but Claire thought she saw a cruel flicker in his deep blue eyes.
"You should have," he said simply.
Claire stared at him in disbelief. His cruelty and indifference went beyond anything taught in the texts of the School of Power. This was someone who took pleasure in the suffering of others—someone that didn't have normal human feelings of affection or mercy or love.
At the moment, it all became clear: there was a reason the Elite Four had hidden Rasmus away. It wasn't just that they were afraid of him. They were his friends. They knew what he was.
"Screw you!" Claire spat. "I'm gonna tell the Grandmaster. I'm gonna tell him what you did, and what you are, and I don't care what happens to me!"
Claire ran. She didn't care where she was going—she didn't really want to find the Grandmaster, Sh just wanted to get away from him. She wanted to cry for her Bisharp. Because he was right.
She was weak.