Chapter 1
Jack Chase ran through the streets as fast as he could, his trusty Umbreon, Belladonna, bounding by his side. Once, they might have played on the way home. Once, he might have tossed a stick or a ball for her to catch. Now, with the bad news he had just received hanging over his head like a Seedot about to drop on him, all he could do was rush home to be with his sister.
It still hadn't sunk in yet; he had been battling in the square in Pyrite Town, a completely normal day...and then his mother called his cell phone and begged him to come home. His sister, so strong, a budding Pokemon Coordinator who was seriously considering leaving for the Hoenn region to compete in the contests there, had been attacked. Thorn, her loyal Espeon, had been stolen.
He bit his lip; how could this have happened? "Bella, come on," he snapped. This wasn't how he normally treated his best friend, but the Umbreon didn't take it personally; she sensed his distress and was willing to put up with his attitude. She felt some worry of her own; while her trainer talked on the phone, her sharp ears had picked out the names "Coraline" and "Thorn," along with the speaker's distressed tone.
After all, Thorn was her twin, just as Cora was Jack's. The four of them had been raised together, standing up for each other and comforting each other when times were bad. And for the Chase family, who were reasonably wealthy from Mr. Chase's work overseas, times could be very bad indeed, as they attracted unwanted attention from Team Snagem.
She remembered how she and her brother had met their masters. Jack was remembering the same.
Jack and Cora were six years old. It was their birthday. Their mother had gotten them each a new bike. Their father was overseas working, like usual. To make up for his inopportune absence, he had sent them two very special gifts, along with a card.
The box had intrigued him, because it had holes drilled in the sides and top. He and Cora lifted the lid off together, neither strong enough on their own, but working together, like they always had when things got tough. In the box were two silver and white fox-like pups, curled up together. The two Pokemon looked up at them.
"Eevee," one squeaked.
"Oh, look," their mother said, smiling gently. "Your father sent you both an Eevee apiece! A twin gift for the twins. How clever!"
None of them had known then just how special the coloration was until the twins were older. By then, they worked so flawlessly together that no one doubted the two Pokemon would evolve at any moment.
Jack looked down at his friend. His best friend, and besides his sister, his only one. Too many people became jealous of his precious shiny Pokemon and tried to "borrow" her. With her silky shadow-within-a-shadow black fur broken only by the beautiful blue rings on her ears, forehead, legs, and tail, it wasn't any wonder; she was the envy of every trainer and coordinator in Pyrite, beautiful and strong.
Espeon had never been the target of that before, not really. He supposed the bright lime green was a bit much for some people, but Cora had also been careful to stay out of view of the general public while she readied for her contests.
The house came into view; he dashed up the stairs, barely winded even though he had run all the way from the town square.
"Mom! Cora! I'm home!" he shouted, climbing the stairs two at a time, Bella right behind him.
"We're in Cora's room," his mother's voice called back. He went straight there.
He couldn't help but stare at his sister as he walked in. She was wearing a nightgown very like the pure white dress she usually wore, minus the blue ribbon. Her hair was down, the soft white locks spread around her face like a halo. But what shocked him the most was the skin showing outside the nightgown.
Her arms, neck, and what could be seen of her collarbone and shoulders were bruised. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, a black eye, and a split lip. Never had he seen her so beat up. Hell, he had never seen her in a physical fight before, had never seen her injured! Even as kids, she was always careful, never getting more than a scrape or two. It was always him who earned the battle scars, for the both of them.
His horror consolidated into a furious rage. He swore, then and there, that he would get revenge on the bastard who did this.