Author's Notes: Thank you once again for reviewing! As for how long I've been writing, that's sort of a hard question to answer. I've been writing actual stories ever since third grade, which is when we got our first real writing assignments, but this is my third Pokemon story, and only the first that I've ever put up anywhere. I started writing the others about a year or so ago, I'd say.
I'm glad that you found the last chapter a little creepy, as that was the intent. I'm afraid that this chapter is (hopefully) more of the same. It's a bit short, but it is very important and I couldn't really think of anything else to tack on to it.
Chapter 11: The Meeting
The Ninetales was waiting by the water's edge as the moon climbed higher in the sky. She looked out over the rippling waves fixedly, as though by sitting and staring long enough she could catch some glimpse of the renegade Pokemon that was causing her so much grief. The dark horizon yielded nothing, however.
It was not long before a large grin faded into being near where the Ninetales was sitting. The row of gleaming teeth was soon followed by a pair of large, red eyes. They burned with an inner flame nearly as intense as that of the Ninetales herself, glowing a luminous red. The eyes roved for a minute before fixing on the Ninetales, seated nearby. A hazy black form drifted into being surrounding the disembodied eyes and mouth, slowly coalescing into a stocky, humanoid shape.
"Greetings, Grottlis," the Ninetales said to the Gengar. "I trust that you are well."
"There are few things that trouble the dead, Sasoliar," the Gengar replied. His mouth did not moved, fixed eternally in a wide grin, his voice seeming to drift on the wind, low, dark, and coming from all directions at once. "Indeed, I am well. Though I think that you must not be, if you have come to seek my council."
Grottlis was one of few who knew the Ninetales' true name. Those who spoke it did not do so lightly, but Sasoliar was not offended by the Gengar's conversational tone when he said it. They were old friends, and there are many actions that go unnoticed between such as they that would bring down terrible wrath under other circumstances.
"You are right, as always," Sasoliar agreed. "I have need of your aid, Grottlis."
"I am always willing to help another enlightened soul in need," Grottlis replied. "Please, tell me what it is that you want me to do for you."
"I need you to find a Pokemon, Grottlis," Sasoliar explained. "A Rattata, to be exact."
Though the Gengar's expression could not and did not change, his voice rang with slight consternation when it wafted into being once more. "A Rattata? Why a Rattata?"
"He is...a very special case, I am afraid," the Ninetales replied. "He is one of the Cursed, and he has escaped the island."
"Escaped?" The Gengar gasped in disbelief. His red eyes then narrowed in anger, the fire within them burning with more intensity. "When? How? Where did he go?"
Sasoliar had expected such questions, and smoothly told the tale of how, earlier that day, a certain Rattata had managed to stow away on a trainer's Pidgeot and leave the island. "So you see why I need your help, Grottlis," she concluded. "I am unable to track down the Pokemon. I cannot leave this isle for fear that it shall crumble into disorder without me. I need you to find Jeremy for me."
The Gengar was quiet for a moment, considering this. "What do you want me to do with the vermin when I find him?" he asked at length.
"Return him to me, of course," Sasoliar replied.
"Wouldn't it be more simple," the Gengar asked in a conspiratorial tone, "to ensure that he simply does not return at all?"
"Are you really asking me what I think you are?" Sasoliar asked in a shocked tone. "I'm no murderer, Grottlis. No matter what the wrongs done to me, I should never allow myself to sink to the level of humans."
"Now, now," Grottlis said silkily, "I'll promise that I won't harm a hair on his little head, if that's what pleases you. But you must understand that humans are slippery creatures. The only way to ensure that they do not escape is to put an end to their gallivanting once and for all."
"The answer is no, Grottlis," the Ninetales replied, her voice steely. "I ask only that you find Jeremy and return him to me. I shall deal with his punishment."
"As you wish," the Gengar said, though Sasoliar thought that she caught a slightly grudging tone in his voice."
"It is as I wish," Sasoliar pressed, voice firm.
The Gengar sighed wistfully, his red gaze wandering around the island and out over the ocean before suddenly snapping back to the Ninetales.
"And what of this human girl, the trainer?"
"I need not worry about her," Sasoliar said, a small smile gracing her muzzle. "Where Jeremy goes, she is sure to follow. Trust me."
The Gengar began to laugh then, an eerie, mocking noise that boomed out across the open water, rolling away into the night. His form began to shiver and drift away as though caught up by a fierce wind, his being blowing away like so much smoke. Last to depart was the glittering grin, the eternally fixed smile. The laughter did not fade away for several seconds after that.
Sasoliar continued to sit on the empty beach. Though she remained firm in the beliefs that she had expressed to the Gengar, he had planted an ever so tiny seed of doubt in her heart. All it would need was a little water, and it would sprout. At length, the Ninetales turned and returned to the dark, still forest, where none spoke her name. As she passed into the tangled underbrush, a dark shadow faded away into the deeper woods.
It was cold in the nighttime, eternally cold, as though Grottlis' restless soul had been plunged into ice-cold water and never grew numb to its chill. He did not travel over land but rather through it, skipping between the realm of the living and the realm of the dead much as a rock skips over water. Each time he bounced out into the realm of the living, he looked carefully about for some sign of a fiery aura, a lingering trace of magic that would lead him to the Rattata.
Long hours he searched, traversing the dark side of the world time and time again. He left only when the slow burning sensation of sunrise began, the beams of light cast by the great Sol himself piercing the gloom that was Grottlis' home.
He fled back to his own realm, to the dark and deserted tower inhabited only by memories. He took refuge in the darkness, and as he waited there for the light of day to dissipate once more so that he might begin his search over anew. Here he sat quietly and reflected on the past night's events, and as he thought, he would often break out into small fits of laughter, chuckling quietly to himself in the gloom.