13: THEY THAT HAVE THE POWER TO HURT
Sovereign, thankfully, doesn't come with them. They don't want to be contained in their ball for any longer than necessary; they say they'll follow at a distance, in the wilderness.
That ball and I have history, they said, before Cass and Artemis left. I will feel the vibrations if you grip it and think of me. Do that, and we can speak to arrange a meeting.
Artemis didn't argue. The alternative, she was pretty sure, would be for Sovereign to stay in the ball but telepathically jack in to her brain, to see and hear through her eyes and ears, and that's probably not something she can do without her grip on reality dissolving entirely.
So: Sovereign's out there, somewhere, watching and waiting, and Emilia's out there too, coming north to Cerulean, and in the meantime Cass and Artemis are on the bus, flicking through the news on their phones, wide-eyed.
"Holy crap," says Cass, staring. "She actually did it. She pulled it off."
She did. It's all there: BREAKING NEWS: INDIGO LEAGUE BLACK OPS AGENCY GONE ROGUE, a stock photo of Giovanni Dioli in front of his Gym, a 56-page inset PDF of all the documents thus far released. A photograph of the Lavender breach entity, coruscating beneath the treeline on a darkened hillside. (How did they even get that?)
And Emilia's name front and centre, with a Q&A right alongside. Artemis' gaze lingers here, on her concise, informative answers. There's a lot of data here. She must have given the Cataphract editor everything she had. Which means … well, bad things, probably. Why didn't she just do this anonymously? Couldn't she have protected herself that way?
No, Artie, she thinks: Lorelei knew she was getting out of line; that's why she suspended her. Doesn't matter if her name's on the leak or not, the League will know who's behind it. She might as well throw her weight behind it and give it some extra credibility.
The callousness of this calculation disturbs her. She wishes that she couldn't see how this worked – that she was, somehow, naïve enough to not have to carry this knowledge. But she can, and she isn't, so she just keeps scrolling through the live updates and worrying.
It's okay. It isn't, Emilia is probably going to be arrested and Giovanni is still out there and the fate of the world rests more or less completely on her, Cass and a giant cat with an axe, but it's okay.
Brauron wakes up in her lap, hissing in disapproval, and Artemis realises she's accidentally begun to squeeze instead of stroking. She flinches and pulls her hand away sharply, feeling a million desperate apologies all getting stuck on one another in their haste to get out of her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to shift her mental image of a fistful of bloody mush; and Brauron starts and crouches, staring up as she stares down; and Artemis only realises she's crying when Cass asks if she's okay.
She shakes her head, still unable to speak, and Cass very slowly and awkwardly pats her shoulder, unable to really get her arm around her in her seat, or to tell if Artemis even really wants her to. For a moment Artemis is suspended between moments, a drop of oil slithering across the surface of an aqueous reality, and then Brauron insinuates herself into her cardigan, pressing close to her side, and Cass says it's gonna be okay, and Artemis slides back into herself with a thump that seems to shake her muscles loose on her bones.
She doesn't deserve this sympathy, from Brauron or from Cass. She can't even deal with this body, this overwrought baroque abomination, and she hurts Brauron just trying to touch her and she breaks things and she runs away and she breaks down in tears on public transport and she has the gall to suggest that the problem might not be her, that she deserves a partner, a journey, a choice.
Ground yourself, she orders, through the smoke of the garbage fire burning inside her. Things you can see, hear, feel. She counts shopfronts and ringtones, the smoothness of the window and the worn-out fuzz of the bus seat, and though the fire does not go out she does at least manage to suck in all the fumes so no one else gets poisoned.
It's not perfect. That's okay. These things never are.
"Thank you," she whispers, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Hey," says Cass. "It's fine. Really."
"I know," says Artemis, trying to work up the courage to touch Brauron, not succeeding. "But you know."
Cass sighs.
"Yeah," she says. "I know."
Cass is nice. Artemis has said it so many times, but it bears repeating. She sticks close to Artemis right the way back, is apparently aware of how much just being near someone can mean, and she insists Artemis come with her when she goes to take Ringo to the Centre doctors for a check-up. They say he just needs a potion and day or two of rest (and somewhere underneath everything part of Artemis is amazed that Brauron is that strong already, that she's capable of putting Ringo out of commission like that), and tell her to let him take it easy for a while.
"Sure," she says. "You'll like that, right birdbrain?"
He chirps weakly and bites her finger.
"Close enough," she says, wincing. "Okay. So like it's thing, water, milk, right, Artie?"
It takes a moment for Artemis to realise what it is she's offering, and then she smiles.
"Yeah," she says. "Thank you."
Back in the lounge, it seems like the news has broken. Some older kids, fifteen or so, are flipping the TV between various news channels, KNBC to TohjoView to Republic and back again, looking for further information on the story currently clogging up their phones' activity feeds.
"… massive leak from a high-level League source," Artemis hears the newscaster say, and looks helplessly at Cass.
"You go," she says. "I'll be up in a minute."
Artemis smiles her thanks and leaves Cass making the tea, the TV squawking in the background. She can't deal with this right now. She's going to have to, sooner or later, but right now? Right now, she needs a minute or two to herself. This afternoon, she allied with a legendary pokémon and saw ROCKETS torn out of its shell and thrown into the public eye. That is more than enough to warrant a little downtime.
Brauron has fallen asleep again, tired out after the fight against Sovereign, and Artemis transfers her carefully from her arms to a pillow, where she curls herself into an adorable little comma that makes Artemis smile without realising. She looks at her for a while, struck as she sometimes is by how beautiful the variegated blacks of her back are, and then when Cass knocks at the door with tea and coffee she lets her in.
They lie around for a bit quietly, not really talking, just listening to the breathing of their sleeping partners and drinking. It's quiet, and peaceful, and it's not much but it is, in its own way, healing. Artemis pulls the ragged scraps of herself back together, and breathes out.
"Okay," she says, after a while. "Okay, I think I'm all right."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I'm glad," says Cass. "I think I'm all right too."
Pause. Brauron yawns in her sleep and breathes hot air onto Artemis' ear.
"When d'you think Emilia will get here?"
"Dunno. Guess she'll call us when she does."
She could close her eyes right now and she'd probably fall asleep. She won't; there's stuff to do, and anyway she doesn't want to roll over and crush Brauron. But she could. Artemis holds this feeling in the palm of her hand, soft and warm and infinitely precious, and stifles a yawn of her own.
"I guess it depends what we decide we're gonna do," she says. "But I mean if you wanted to see your girlfriend while we're in town …"
"I'll call her later," says Cass. "After Emilia. I think she has work today anyway." Another pause. "Then I'd really like it if we could get out of Cerulean and like not come back for ages."
"Sure," says Artemis. "I think we can swing that."
The pause stretches out into a silence, and then Artemis' phone buzzes and it all vanishes into the past.
"Emilia?" It's the same number as last time; maybe she's got a new phone.
"Artemis," she says. Her voice makes Artemis' guts clench: trust, or not? So hard to tell, with someone who can plan all this out so meticulously, who can smile and comfort and lie all in the same breath. "I'm in the lobby. The clerk told me you're back?"
"Yeah." Artemis' voice sounds stronger than she expects, almost like she isn't worried at all. "Yeah, I went up here so I didn't have to – well, they've got the news on in the lounge."
"Yes, I can hear it from here. Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Just … tired."
"I can't even imagine," says Emilia. "What you've done … you know what, we should talk in person. Shall I come up?"
"Okay. Room 22."
"Got it. See you in a minute."
They sit up, shedding the quiet, and by the time the knock at the door comes a few moments later Artemis feels more or less ready for it.
"Hi," says Emilia, when she lets her in. "God. Are you two okay? And Brauron and Ringo?"
She sounds different – that's her other voice, the non-professional one, and there's an intensity to her voice that seems out of place for her. She looks different, too: jeans and a hoodie quite frankly look wrong on her, and her hair, normally straightened or bound back in a tight ponytail or both, is loose in a huge shock of tight black curls. For a moment, Artemis doesn't even recognise her, but sure enough, that's Nadia on her shoulder, peeping through the hair.
Is this honesty? Impossible to be sure. Maybe it's just a disguise, to throw the League off her trail. Artemis feels the void of not-knowing yawning at her feet, calling her to jump, and she takes a deliberate step back.
"Yeah," she says, like it's nothing. "Yeah, we're okay. Brauron's tired. Ringo got … Ringo got hurt, but he's, um, I think he's okay."
"He's fine," says Cass assertively. "Just needs some rest."
Emilia looks from her to Artemis and back again. She looks, if anything, even more tired than when they last met.
"Okay," she says. "Okay." She sighs, shakes her head. "I don't know what I was expecting. Broken bones, maybe. But you – you spoke to it? And …" She breaks off. "Let me try that one again: why don't you talk me through what happened?"
It's quite a story, Emilia has to admit. She has no idea how they managed it, but apparently two teenagers have done in a couple of days what the entirety of the Indigo League couldn't in ten years. They found Mew-2, and they made friends with it.
With them, even. With Sovereign. Because apparently Mew-2 isn't a monster, it's a person, a very badly hurt person who happened to have the supernatural powers requisite to take revenge on the people who hurt them, and that's the real revelation here. And Emilia coordinated part of an offensive that drove them to hide in a hole in the ground for ten years.
Forget the guilt: it means nothing, does nothing, except act as a spur to greater action. Focus on what should be done.
"What you've done is incredible," she says. "You should know that. I know things have been weird, and maybe your sense of what's normal has got sort of skewed – but this is incredible. I hope you appreciate that."
"Thanks," replies Cass. "Like seriously. But you know, we still have to … do whatever it is we have to do."
Artemis smiles awkwardly but says nothing. It seems fair, after everything that's happened today.
"That's true. It doesn't mean that what you've already done is meaningless, though." Enough? Probably enough. "But. Back to next steps." Think. What should you do? What can you do, at this point? The only asset they have is Sovereign. And Sovereign's strength is, well, their strength. "The question is where ROCKETS is based," she says. "If we can figure that out, Sovereign can probably destroy it by themself. It took the Elite Four and Champion combined to even drive them back last time, and I don't think Giovanni is going to be able to muster that sort of strength."
"We can't make that decision," says Artemis immediately. "We need to talk to Sovereign."
"Yes. Of course." Emilia pauses. Again: forget the guilt, press on. "We also have to work out where they're based. They've changed locations since the project was officially terminated. We can't come up with a plan of attack without knowing where to strike. And – I don't want to be pessimistic, but we need to know that soon. If Giovanni's people have really worked out how to control breach already, it's just a matter of time before they've won."
"Uh, well," says Cass. "How are we gonna do that, exactly? I mean, not to speak for you or anything, Artie, but I don't think either of us have access to that kind of information. Not really something I can just ask my aunt about, y'know?"
Artie, Emilia notes, with some satisfaction. That's good. Artemis could use a friend. And, well, considering that Cass went with her to face Sovereign and back, she's inclined to think that she fits the bill.
"Yeah," says Artemis. "I mean I guess we could ask Sovereign, but they only knew ROCKETS ten years ago, so …"
"No, I see that." Emilia thinks about it for a moment. "Nadia?" she asks. "Got anything?"
Nadia considers, then summons up a fragment of Lorelei's last phone call, so vivid that it feels for an instant like Emilia really is back out there in the city heat, listening to her speak:
Internal review didn't find anything. They went to the ROCKETS site and it was completely empty.
Emilia frowns slightly, puzzled.
"Nadia?"
NOT SITE, says Nadia. ROCKET.
"What is it?" asks Cass. "Does she have an idea?"
"Hang on." Emilia repeats the words over in her head, running through potential interpretations. Not site rocket. Not at the ROCKETS site? But that would just be restating what Lorelei said; no point in saying that. And she said rocket, singular. So … wait. Not site, comma, Rocket.
Not the ROCKETS site, but the Rocket.
It is one of those realisations that strikes like a stone falling into a still, clear pool of deep water. Emilia sits completely motionless for at least five seconds, mind racing. Where else? Where could Giovanni set up shop without anyone noticing? Where do his employees frequently drive windowless bulletproof vans, ostensibly full of money but, perhaps, actually full of equipment? Where could he set up the necessary security measures without anyone thinking it strange? And, most importantly – where does he spend all his time when he isn't at the Viridian Gym?
It's so simple, so elegant, that Emilia can't help but admire it. The place is already built like a fortress: no windows, armed guards, CCTV like nobody's business. And why wouldn't it be? Vast sums of money flow through the place every day, surfing on a toxic wave of alcohol, avarice and frustration. Anyone can tell it needs security just by looking at it.
"Damn," she breathes. "How long have you known that, Nadia?"
A lazy curl of nonchalance wafts through her mind.
"You just worked it out, huh." Emilia shakes her head. "All right. This is … going to be tricky, actually."
"What is it?" asks Artemis. "Did she get it?"
"Yes, she did." Emilia reaches up and scratches Nadia's head. "The Rocket. ROCKETS is based at Giovanni's flagship casino."
Cass and Artemis stare.
"Are you serious?" asks Cass. "Like … in a casino?"
"It's already fortified," Emilia replies. "So that works out. And honestly, I'm not sure where else Giovanni would be able to set up without being seen unless he actually left Kanto. Nor where he could afford to set up. I know he's rich, but he's not that rich. He owns a few casinos in a small city in a nation that half the world can't find on a map; that's not enough to build a fortified installation from scratch in complete secrecy."
Neither of them have anything to say in response to that. And what is there to say, anyway? They've been running round Kanto, sneaking and trying not to get caught, and now suddenly they're supposed to turn around and fight? It feels strange – feels wrong, even; it's not just that Cass and Artemis are kids, that they have no business getting caught up in this mess, it's that there is something deeply unsettling about all of this, about supervillainy breaking free from comic strips and into reality. Dark experiments on the fabric of the universe being done from some secret lab in the heart of a casino: that's unreal, and that's bad. Worse is the fact that they're going to have to attack it, just because no one else will.
Emilia supposes she could take this information to the press, could work that angle further. But what's the point? Giovanni is as good a politician as she is, probably better, and he'll be able to play for time, deliver counter-arguments, tie up investigations, even if only for a day or two. Which might be all he needs; frankly, if he's already giving orders to breach entities, if he's testing the limits of his control, then it may already be too late. What they need is a way to take his operation down now, before things escalate any further, and they have one, in Sovereign. A way to force an ending.
It's going to be dangerous. But if the alternative is some jumped-up Kantan exceptionalist gaining mastery over the fundamental forces of the universe …
She waits for someone else to speak, not wanting to force this on them. After some time, Artemis nods.
"Okay," she says, rolling the master ball between her fingers. "I guess we need to talk to Sovereign."
Sovereign will only leave their cave for the outskirts of town after dark, when they can more easily keep hidden. This is fair enough, but it also leaves an uncomfortable amount of time for everyone to fill before the meeting takes place. Emilia tells Cass and Artemis that she'll be monitoring the news situation, and heads out into Cerulean to make her preparations.
She's not lying. She is monitoring the news situation; every few minutes, another slew of updates pings onto her phone, and she sees the ROCKETS story unfold across every news site in Kanto and a few beyond it. But there's something else she has to do, something she doesn't particularly want to share. If you're going to do something potentially life-threatening, and she is, then you need to square it with your loved ones. Emilia doesn't have any of those any more, but she does have an old friend in Bluefield Cemetery.
So. Out of town again, along the same route she took a few days ago. She passes the same row of shops where she bought the flowers last time, and stops in to buy some matches. Not that she's planning to set anything on fire right now, but if she gets into the Rocket, there might be some documents that need destroying.
She buys more lilies, too, with a twenty-florin note she found in her wallet, and the florist smiles at her in recognition.
"How did it go last time?" she asks, as she rings up her purchase.
"Okay," replies Emilia. "I figured if it worked once …"
"Fair enough," says the florist. "Are you local? I haven't seen you round here except that one time."
"Ah," she says. "No, I live in Saffron. Just visiting a friend."
"Sure. That's thirteen florins, then."
SAM? asks Nadia, as the door shuts behind them.
"Sam," confirms Emilia. "I mean, we might die."
Nadia considers this.
ATTEMPT, she says.
"Try not to die? Yeah, well, I'll do my best."
ENOUGH, pronounces Nadia, meaning that this is good enough for her, and settles back down on her shoulder.
Emilia almost laughs. Some quirks of natu psychology you get used to, but some stay weird forever. Nadia's blasé approach to being murdered is one of them.
She pushes open the gate and makes her way down the path between the headstones. There she is: SAMANTHA VILLIERS. No trace of the lilies from earlier. Someone must have cleaned up the mess, if the rain didn't do it before they got a chance.
"Hey, Sam." It feels weird to talk to her in the sunshine. Somehow Emilia feels like talking to the dead makes more sense in the rain. "I brought some more flowers." She puts them down in front of the stone. "I know I said I'd come more often, but I'm about to do something that might mean this is the last time. You know I said I was stuck? Well, I figured out what to do. And what I should do, as it turns out, is break into the Rocket Casino in search of a rogue government agency hiding out behind the slots."
She pauses, considering her next words. Somewhere, birds are singing, although Emilia can't see any of them.
"So on the one hand, I'm doing what you always said I should. I'm making a stand. On the other, I guess I'm doing exactly what you always tried to stop me doing: I'm risking my neck. I think it's for a good cause, but you know." She sighs. "I don't think I'm asking for your blessing. I don't actually think you're still around to give it; I think I'm doing this for my benefit, not yours. Actually, I think I should have figured out to grieve eight years ago and moved on by now instead of bottling it until … until Effie, but, well, I guess I'm not saying anything new there."
She shakes her head. You're starting to ramble, she tells herself. Keep it together. What are the salient details here?
"Speaking of Effie," she says, fighting the reluctance in her throat, "she … well, it happened. She's gone. So, just me and Nadia now." A long pause, while she wrestles her voice back under control. "I just thought you should know," she says, in the end. "You two always got on so well. And … and."
She waits a long time, trying to think of the words she could put after that and, and then in the end she just sighs again.
"You know," she says. "You always knew better than me, anyway."
Emilia rests her hand on the gravestone, the way she did the last time she was here.
"I'll see you soon, Sam," she promises. "One way or another. But for now … for now, there's something I wanted to say last time and didn't." She takes a breath, tells herself that if she chickens out now she might never get another chance. "I love you," she says. "You were my best friend. I think you knew that, even if I didn't. I'm sorry it took me so long."
For a long moment she can't move, pinned beneath the weight of finally saying it, and then she straightens up, says goodbye, and turns to leave. Out through the gates, back down the street.
?, asks Nadia.
"Yeah," agrees Emilia. "Pretty much."
After Emilia leaves, Cass calls up her girlfriend and then makes her own exit with Ringo, promising to be back soon. Artemis tells her to take her time, as long as she's back before the meeting, and she smiles gratefully in a way that makes both of them feel a little better.
Which leaves Artemis alone in the Centre for a few hours. Not ideal, but she survives; she's got Brauron, who is awake again and very insistent that she be both fed and entertained right now, and she's got her phone, so in a sense she's got Chelle too. Messages go back and forth, updates on Brauron and on Cinnabar Island, where Chelle still thinks she is, and by the time her phone alarm goes off to tell her to go meet Cass and Emilia downstairs she feels more or less level.
"Hey," says Cass, when she sees her. She looks much better than she did, Artemis notes. There's a brightness in her eyes that has been missing since they first decided to go after Sovereign. "How are you doing?"
"I'm okay. Brauron too." She hisses at the sound of her name and Artemis pats her head absently. "You?"
"Me? Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." Cass smiles. "Kaylee says hi."
"Hi, Kaylee," says Artemis, and smiles back.
A moment later, Emilia turns up, poking at her phone.
"Hi," she says. "Have you seen? Giovanni's made a statement."
"What's he saying?"
"Denying everything. Talking about the League investigation and my suspension." She shakes her head. "It doesn't hold together, but I'm not sure it has to. Depends what he's trying to do. I suspect he's playing for time until his plan comes through, but I can't be sure."
"What plan?" asks Cass, and Emilia shrugs.
"He wants control of breach to do something," she says. "Given ROCKETS' politics, I don't think it's universal basic income." She sighs and gestures at the doors. "Come on. I have a cab waiting outside."
It's a quick ride out to Leeside, where the bus dropped them earlier that day; when they get out, Emilia tells the driver to wait, and Artemis feels vaguely embarrassed in that way you do at the evidence of other people's wealth. Left to herself, she wouldn't have taken a cab at all. From here, they make their way down the darkened trail by the light of Cass' torch, and soon enough they hear that unmistakeable voice.
Put out your light.
Emilia starts; Cass obliges. A moment later, staring intently through the sudden blackness, Artemis makes out a tall, dim figure.
Santangelo, says Sovereign. Their eyes catch some light that Artemis doesn't see, or perhaps they cast their own inner light, and they flash for a moment with that distinctive silvery sheen. You are brave to come seeking me.
"I made my mistakes," she replies. Her voice is steady and unwavering. "I'll answer for them eventually."
You certainly will. Something moves: Sovereign's tail, maybe, switching back and forth like a cat's. Quiet, little bird. I am not here to harm you.
Artemis can't feel anything, but then, she supposes she isn't as sensitive to these things as Sovereign. At any rate, Nadia seems to calm herself readily enough.
Better, says Sovereign. Well? You wanted to meet me. I have answered.
They have. They have, despite everything – despite the fact that they arrived with their ball and Emilia. It takes a special sort of bravery to face a meeting like that, for someone with Sovereign's history.
"Yeah," says Artemis. "We have … well, we've kind of got a plan."
With which you need my help.
"Yeah." She glances at where Emilia is, somewhere off to her right. "It's, um, well. We think we know where Giovanni's operation is based."
You want me to assault it. Sovereign's eyes flash again; Brauron grips Artemis harder, flares her fins defiantly. I believe we have discussed my disinterest in being used as an instrument before.
"Uh, um, yeah, but―"
But I appreciate that you lack the capacity to attack Giovanni yourself. And … and I have to admit, I relish the thought of getting my hands on the bastard. A low growl, some of that base feline aggression breaking loose in their throat. Where is his base of operations?
"Celadon. Giovanni owns a few casinos, but like, the big one's in Celadon, and it's where he spends all his time …"
I see. And your plan for attacking it is what, exactly?
"With you on our side," says Emilia, "more or less brute force."
Sovereign snorts. It sounds almost like laughter.
You know my tastes, they reply. And what? You would have me destroy it all?
"Not just that. I'd like you to get me in there." Artemis looks at her sharply: this isn't anything they've discussed previously. "Giovanni has to be stopped, but more than that, all his data has to be destroyed, all his people incapacitated. Everything needs to be photographed. I don't want anyone getting away with this, or it's just going to happen again."
My, how times have changed, says Sovereign archly. You? Ripping the heart from the League's darling?
"I'm not League," says Emilia simply. "I'm Kantan."
"Hmph," says Sovereign. That might be the first sensible thing those equivocating lips of yours ever spoke.
They sound like they want to push her, like they're trying to make her snap, but Emilia holds.
"Yes," she says. "Probably."
For a moment, Sovereign doesn't answer. Then:
You are going to want my ball, aren't you?
"Yes." Emilia hesitates. "I'd understand if you don't trust me with it, but … if it's you and me going in there, then that's how it has to be. I can get you through the city that way."
"Wait a minute," says Cass. "Just you two? What about us?"
Emilia sighs.
"I can deal with the evidence," she says. "And you, Sovereign, you can deal with the security."
With absolute certainty.
"So that's it," says Emilia. "That's all we need."
"But …" It's too dark to see Cass without the torch, but Artemis knows what she must look like: glaring, feet planted firmly as if she anticipates being dragged bodily away. That's Cass, all right. "But we – Artie, you know what I mean, right? We can't just back out now, after – after everything we've done …"
Artemis wishes Cass hadn't asked. She sees where Emilia's coming from, she really does; this is her solving a problem, just like when she made the spire disappear. (Just like when she lied about Cinnabar.) Why let two kids and their pokémon risk their lives when the professionals are here to take their place? Especially since they've already risked so much, and made such narrow escapes.
But – well, Cass has a point. It is their fight now. Even if it's not a fight they can win. She just isn't sure whether that's more important than their safety. What's an idea even worth, anyway, when you compare it to a life?
"I know," she says, in the end. "I know, I … I know."
The night wells up into the silence, wind and bird calls and the distant croak of a golduck on the prowl, and then at last Emilia speaks.
"I stood by while you went to the single most dangerous place in Kanto," she says. "You shouldn't have had to do that. Not if the system had worked. And you shouldn't have to do something like that again. And, well, all that aside – I don't want you to get shot. Does that sound fair?"
It does. Artemis can see where she's coming from, and she's probably not lying about this, she probably really does care enough to want them to be safe. And yet …
"I mean, I guess." Cass sighs. "I just don't really want to sit around in the Centre while you two go off to smash Giovanni, is all."
"Artemis?"
It's a wrench. It is. But Emilia is right, no matter how much Artemis wants to see this through to the end. She's not strong enough. Brauron's not strong enough, Cass is not strong enough, Ringo's not strong enough. Maybe Nadia isn't either, but Emilia's definitely got experience on them and they need her in there to make sure things go down right. Cass and Artemis are only going to be a drain on Sovereign's attention.
"Yeah," she says. "Yeah, I mean I get it. Not wanting to sit around, I mean. And I don't want to get shot either." She shrugs. "I don't like it, same as you, Cass, but I get it. I think we've probably done everything we can."
There is strength in wisdom, says Sovereign. Everything sounds so portentous in that voice, Artemis thinks. They probably don't mean it, but it does. Can we return to the matter at hand?
"Sure," says Artemis. "Sorry. Um. Go ahead."
Good. The eyes flash again. Santangelo. You will want my ball, to take me to this casino. You must also know that I am not going to surrender it to you, of all people, lightly.
"That's fair," replies Emilia. "What do you need from me to convince you that I won't betray your trust?"
Nothing more than I already have. Cass and Artemis think you are trustworthy; I believe them. I simply want you to know the significance of what I am about to do. And, of course, that I will cut you in half with an axe if you do anything with that ball that I have not agreed to.
"Oh." Even Emilia is a little thrown by that, it seems. Artemis isn't sure how effective an axe made out of a stop sign is, exactly, but in Sovereign's hand pretty much anything is probably a deadly weapon. "I … see. You have my word, for what it's worth."
Not much. Sovereign sniffs. But it will do. I will need access to your eyes and ears while I am imprisoned.
"Done," says Emilia. "I have experience with telepathy; I'll give you full access."
You couldn't stop me taking it if you tried. The shadow moves a little. Are we done here? Because if we are, I will need to start moving. I can be outside Celadon by dawn, if I leave now.
"I think so," replies Emilia. "Do you know Clayfields?"
The easternmost suburb.
"Yeah. I'll meet you there. I assume you can trace me?"
Of course. Artemis senses Sovereign's attention shifting from Emilia to her. You may give her the ball, they say. I will see you in Celadon.
She sees no movement, but after a few moments, she becomes aware that the shape she thought was Sovereign is no longer present. Cass notices at about the same time, and turns the torch back in with some relief.
The three of them look at each other, at worried faces made pale and weird by the flat glare of the artificial light.
"We're still coming to Celadon," insists Artemis, when nobody else speaks.
"Yeah," says Cass. "Definitely."
"I wasn't going to stop you," says Emilia. "Come on. Let's get back to the cab. You can pack up at the Centre and we'll get straight down to Celadon."
They go. Nobody says anything else.
At this point, Artemis supposes, there really isn't a lot left to talk about.
Night train: yellow light, black windows populated by washed-out reflections. Commuter in one corner, watching Netflix on his tablet. A couple of teenage kids splitting a set of earbuds between them, a nidorina sprawled lazily across their laps. Guy with a recent-looking head injury, talking unsubtly with his girlfriend about selling a stolen bike. A cross-section of late night Kanto, cut loose from reality to barrel on through the dark.
It's been a long time since Artemis rode a train at night. She doesn't do a lot of train journeys at all, really; she's more of a bus-goer, staying mainly within Pewter as she does. She stays quiet, watches Cass and Emilia as they relax into the space with the assuredness of seasoned travellers. How many journeys have they made, she wonders. Emilia – probably more than she can count, back and forth and round and round all across Greater Tohjo. And Cass: Cerulean to Silverleaf and back, three times a year for the past eight years. She imagines Cass at eleven with a trunk and a parent in tow, and then again at fifteen, travelling alone. What colour would her hair have been? She glances at her and sees dark roots beneath the pink.
Cass sees her looking and smiles at her.
"You okay?" she asks.
"Yeah," says Artemis. She seems to be standing upside down on the ceiling, watching her body respond by rote. Something about this light makes the world seem weird. "Yeah, I'm good."
The train rattles on. She could check her phone, see how the ROCKETS scandal's unfolding. She could message Chelle again. It's late but she's probably still up, unless she has work tomorrow. Maybe even if she does.
It feels like she should do something, should mark the fact that everything is now rushing headlong towards a conclusion, but she doesn't do anything at all.
When they arrive at the Pokémon Centre, they split up. Emilia will be staying elsewhere at whatever cheap hotel she can find; Cass and Artemis are to stay put right here until she comes back. Nobody is particularly happy with this arrangement, but everybody agrees that this is how it has to be.
"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow," says Emilia, in the pool of lamplight outside the Centre doors. "By then, breach should be all over."
Breach, over. God, if only. No more monsters, no spires or blurred men, no broken scyther or League spooks or conspiracy theorists. Just – one summer, two kids, two pokémon. Time for a trainer journey again. And if everything goes right, that might happen tomorrow.
Maybe, anyway. Things could still go wrong; Giovanni might have a way to beat Sovereign, impossible as it seems. And even if he doesn't, Artemis will probably be called on to testify, when the investigation happens. God only knows how that will work out with her parents, but that's a problem for another day.
"Yeah," says Artemis, trying to stay positive. "All over."
The three of them stand there for a while in the warm summer night, looking for words that refuse to be found. Then Emilia sighs and reaches into her bag.
"My partner," she says, taking out something wrapped in tissue paper. "She … my partner is a – was a vileplume. She … she's dead. It was very recent. And I know this is sudden, but … when a vileplume dies, it leaves behind fruit. That's where oddish come from. I don't want to take the fruit with me in case it … what I'm trying to say is – would you …?"
"Of course," says Artemis, not wanting to prolong this any further. It's painful to see anyone in that state, but it feels worse when it's someone normally so collected. "Sure. You can, um, you can just pick it up when you get back."
She doesn't say if. She gets that right, at least.
"Thank you." Emilia hesitates, then hands over the fruit. For some reason Artemis is expecting it to be heavy, but it isn't; it's more or less just a small mango. "Thank you," Emilia says again. "I know I don't need to tell you, but please be careful with it."
"Sure." Brauron leans out from her chest to sniff at it, and Artemis takes it out of her reach. "We'll be careful," she says. "I promise. And I'm – I'm really sorry for your loss."
"Yeah," says Cass. "Sorry."
Emilia smiles. It isn't a very happy smile, but it is at least a smile.
"Thank you," she says. "Now. I should probably find somewhere to get some sleep." She keeps looking at the fruit. "So. Yes. I'll see you … on the other side, I suppose."
Her face closes up again, and Artemis realises that she has been looking at something normally hidden away deep inside her. Something incontrovertibly real.
It feels mean to even think it, but she's kind of glad. She can trust in this, if nothing else.
"See you on the other side," says Cass. "And good luck. I mean I think you'll be fine with Sovereign, but … good luck."
"Thank you," says Emilia. "Goodnight."
She turns and walks away, turning her head to listen to something Nadia is saying. Cass and Artemis watch her go until she disappears into the night, and then look at one another.
"I guess that's it," says Cass. "We did it. Like everything we could."
"Yeah," says Artemis. "I guess we did."
They stand there for a few moments longer, unable to break free from the strangeness of the moment, and then Ringo nips at Cass' ear and it's just a summer night again.
"C'mon, then, buster," says Cass, pushing Ringo's beak away. "Let's go in and get you fed." She glances at Artemis. "Coming?"
"Sure," says Artemis, although part of her feels like she won't, like she might just stay out here all night and evaporate with the dawn. "Sure, let's go."
The Rocket is open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Step inside, and time ceases to exist; the only light is from the chandeliers and the lamps, and the only concession to the existence of the natural world are the tall potted plants against the walls. Marble floors, ornate vases, a long and incredibly well-stocked bar. Dealers with calm faces and clever fingers. If you've been to a casino, you've seen it before.
Emilia hasn't been to a casino, as it happens, but there isn't time to take in the details. About half an hour after dawn, she has a cab drop her off outside, in the shadow of its overwrought façade, and then as she walks up to the bouncers she throws the ball and unleashes Sovereign.
At this point, things start to happen rather quickly.
The bouncers immediately step in with their own pokémon, two machamp that fling themselves at Sovereign with the usual reckless abandon; Sovereign catches the first as easily as if it were a child and Emilia sees the sudden panic in its eyes as they smash it bodily into the second and send both into the wall.
Stay back, Santangelo, they say, leaping forward, whacking the two bouncers' heads together and bounding over them as they fall. This will be rough.
They do not wait for the automatic doors to open, bursting straight through instead in a shower of reinforced glass; alarms go off, patrons look up, and Sovereign draws themself up to their full height as every pair of eyes in the house turns to them.
Where is Giovanni? they ask. More people are hurrying towards them from the corners of the room, reaching into jackets for poké balls or pistols. Hanging back in the doorway, Emilia sees kangaskhan, scizor, rhydon, popping into existence in between the tables. Men and women in black yell into radios over the screeching of the alarms; patrons rush for the emergency exits; the pokémon surge forward, not recognising what it is they face, and Emilia watches as Sovereign gets to work.
There's a beauty to their movements, even brutal as they are. One impossible leap forwards, twenty or thirty feet, and Sovereign collides with the scizor hard enough to arrest its momentum and knock it to the ground; they stamp once, twice, metal shell squealing and deforming underneath them, then turn to deliver a swinging punch to the kangaskhan's jaw. Ripples of psychic energy radiate from the point of impact and the huge pokémon drops like a brick, turning a roulette table into matchsticks. The rhydon slows, alarmed, and its hesitation is its undoing; Sovereign turns again, leans back on their tail like a kangaroo and kicks with both legs, paws hitting it in the chest and smashing through its stone armour like pile drivers. The rhydon wheezes, Sovereign extricates themself, and with three sharp blows to the sides of their opponent's head leaves it motionless on the floor.
Where is Giovanni? Sovereign repeats, looking out over the wreckage at the guards, taking cover behind whatever they can find. Someone reaches up and fires at it and Emilia shouts something wordless in her alarm – guns aren't legal in Kanto, although she knows well enough that anyone can get anything with enough money – but the bullet hits an invisible wall halfway across the room and sticks there. They have a barrier up, Emilia realises. They were doing all that and they still had a barrier up.
She did know how tough they were. She's seen it before, even, on video. But it's something else to see them in full flow.
Thank god she told them not to bring their axe.
Where is Giovanni? asks Sovereign, and when nobody answers they pounce.
The guards' cover is useless: Sovereign hits the roulette table behind which the gunman is crouching and ploughs straight through it as if it were made of china. They stamp on his gun hand with a crunch that makes Emilia's stomach turn and cut off his scream with another blow to the head that she hopes to God was a knockout and not a kill.
WHERE IS GIOVANNI? roars Sovereign, so loud that Emilia can see it, can see the tremor in the air as the thoughts leave their head, and when again nobody answers they pounce again, and again, and then before Emilia can even see how it happened the last two guards are running for a door in the back wall; they fall suddenly, and only once they're on the ground does Emilia realise that Sovereign has thrown something at them.
The alarm keeps ringing over the sudden stillness. The patrons and the dealers are long gone, hidden in the bathrooms or fled out through the side exits. At least it's a weekday morning. Not many people around to get hurt, although Sovereign has contained the violence quite well.
They turn to face her over the broken tables and fallen pokémon.
With me, they command. There will be more to follow, and I expect the League and the police will respond soon.
Emilia can already hear sirens in the distance. She nods, unable for the moment to find her voice, and hurries after them as they stalk towards the door the guards were aiming for.
BIGBIGBIG, chatters Nadia nervously, jittering on her shoulder, and Emilia thinks back:
Yeah, sweetie, I know. I kno―
"Now!" someone yells, and the door bursts off its hinges in a billowing cloud of dust and sand; Sovereign raises a hand and the door flies harmlessly overhead, but there's something else there, something big that barrels through the door and part of the surrounding wall and comes at them with a roar―
―and cuts straight through their barrier in a flash of black light, hand meeting chest and batting Sovereign halfway across the room.
The pokémon stamps and roars, its thick tail crushing the end of bar with a misdirected swing. Emilia stares. It's a tyranitar. Giovanni has a bloody tyranitar here, a tonne of stone and fury in one convenient saurian package, and probably the only thing in Kanto short of a legendary that has a shot at taking down Sovereign. She stands there, still staring, as the big dinosaur lowers its head―
MOVE! shrieks Nadia, plucking at her nerves, making her feet twitch, and Emilia dives out of the way towards the wreckage of the casino floor as the tyranitar charges past towards Sovereign. They have recovered by now, leap forward to meet it in a burst of psychic energy, but the tyranitar doesn't stop, blows sand glowing black with dark-type energy from the vents in its flanks and fills the room with a biting fog that stops Sovereign in their tracks. They fall out of the air, psionics useless, and scramble to their feet as the tyranitar advances, claws held back and ready to slash.
"Oh fuck," breathes Emilia, picking herself up, backing off towards the slot machines. "Was he expecting―? I mean how the hell does he have―?"
More guards are coming through the door now, taking up positions behind the bar. They have guns, Emilia sees. Guns, and in the darkstorm Sovereign's barriers won't stop the bullets.
FURRET FURRET FURRET, cries Nadia. BACK!
Emilia keeps backing off, past the first row of slots, and the tyranitar closes to engage with Sovereign. Its hands are almost as big as their head; she watches it swing and Sovereign stagger backwards, blood matting their fur.
Yes, they crow, exultant. Yes, you are worthy. Face me, then! I am Sovereign!
They roar, long and loud as a lion, and fling themself back at the tyranitar, hammering its face and neck with fists that split again at the knuckles with every blow; it growls and thrusts them away with one shoulder, slamming them against one of the columns that flank the entrance. The Rocket guards see their opening and fire, a fusillade of bullets whirring across the room, but the tyranitar rushes forward at its opponent and most of the shots impact harmlessly on its armoured back. It crushes Sovereign against the wall with one stony arm and Emilia winces, looking away―
A crash: she looks back and sees that somehow Sovereign has coiled themself against the wall and leaped at the tyranitar's head hard enough to knock it over. The tyranitar thrashes in the rising dust, trying to roll into a position where it can push itself back up, but it is too heavy and spiny to easily turn and now that they have the advantage Sovereign is relentless, crouched on its chest and laying into its head with bloody fists.
I am Sovereign! they howl. In name and deed!
The tyranitar shakes its head beneath the blows and fires a dark pulse from its vents that bleaches Sovereign's fur where it touches, but they refuse to be dislodged, and now one of the tyranitar's spines is broken, Emilia sees, and its eyes are rolling madly and maybe, maybe they've got this but the guards are leaning over the counter for another volley―
"Sovereign!" she yells. "The guards!"
They look up just as they fire, and leap away as the bullets whine through the space where they were crouching. Three tear into their leg, splashing red across their fur, and Sovereign falls heavily behind a blackjack table.
You are in getting in the way of my fight, they growl, seizing the table's edge and dragging themself back up onto their feet. Wait your turn.
They clench their fist and suddenly freeze; a ripple runs through them the way it did through the Cinnabar breach entity, and then for a second time seems to reverse around them, bullets flying back out of their wounds and the splits in their knuckles closing up. Then, as quickly as it begun, the moment passes, and Sovereign is, impossibly, whole again.
I may not like it, but I am breach, they snarl. And that dark dust is settling.
The tyranitar struggles to its feet, but it's too late: Sovereign jumps across the room again in another of those telekinetic leaps, and smashes clean through the bar in a shower of splinters and broken glass. From behind the slots, Emilia can't see what they do, exactly, but she hears the thumps and cries, and imagines that probably the gunmen aren't an issue any more.
Now for you, bastard lizard, hisses Sovereign, and shoots back into view, directly into the tyranitar's midriff. Its plates crack and it bellows in pain, sand spurting uncontrollably from its vents; Sovereign snarls and wraps their arms around it, joints popping with blue flashes of psychic energy, and as Emilia stares they strain and heave and they're actually doing it, she realises, they are lifting the huge dinosaur clear off the floor as it roars and writhes in a panic―
Back to your masters, Sovereign snaps, and hurls it back in the direction of the door. It falls far short, slamming into the floor just a yard or so away in a shower of marble chips, but Emilia is staggered that they threw it at all. She watches open-mouthed as the tyranitar blinks and waves its arms feebly, as astonished as she is, until Sovereign draws their foot up high and stamps one last time on its face.
It stops moving. Sovereign stands over it for a moment, breathing hard and staring at it as if daring it to get up again, and then they turn to Emilia.
I detect police outside, they say. Waiting for reinforcements, I think. We should go now, before they come in.
"Uh," says Emilia, still looking at the tyranitar. "Yes. Yes, of course. We should … do that."
Yes. Sovereign swishes their tail impatiently. Well? Are you coming?
"Yes. Yes, I'm – I'm definitely coming."
She gets up from behind the slot machine and picks her way through the wrecked tables and unconscious bodies towards Sovereign and the tyranitar. It's not the first time she's seen this kind of carnage; nor is it the worst she's seen. But normally she just arrives for the aftermath, and there is something very different, she is discovering, about watching it all take place.
A tyranitar. Sovereign beat down a tyranitar with nothing but their bare fists. They didn't even use moves. They got hit in the chest with a tonne of dark-type stone, smashed into a wall, shot, and they just got back up again and kicked the crap out of it. Of a tyranitar. Sovereign―
ROUND, says Nadia cautiously, warning her that her thoughts are starting to go in circles, and Emilia nods and tries to pull herself together.
"Right," she mutters, trying not to step on a fallen guard. "Right, right."
Come on, says Sovereign, looking past her, back towards the door. They're here.
Someone's yelling about this being the police. Emilia hurries on without looking back. She is surprised to realise that she isn't afraid of the cops at all now. She's much more afraid of what Sovereign will do to them if they catch up.
Artemis gives up on trying to sleep a little before dawn. It feels like she's spent most of the night awake anyway, tossing and turning and worrying about what happens next, and by then it seems clear that she isn't going to get any rest tonight. She fixes up her face and heads downstairs, as in Lavender, to watch the news.
Which, as it happens, is big. Emilia's leak is still being repeated, the newscaster running over the facts again and again; there's a clip they keep playing of someone thrusting a microphone into Lorelei's face as she hurries from the Indigo Palace to her car, asking her aggressively why the League was running this kind of operation in the first place. She says she has no comment at this time and slams the car door behind her.
Both police and League agents are after Emilia, it seems, but Artemis takes heart from the newscaster's assertion that her whereabouts are currently unknown. Even if they do find her, she thinks, she's probably picked up Sovereign by now. Good luck to anyone trying to arrest her then.
The news loops, once and then twice. Outside, light climbs over the rooftops and filters through the blinds. Little by little, morning comes, and with it comes Cass.
"Hey," she says, walking in with Ringo. "Couldn't sleep, huh?" Artemis shakes her head. "Me either." She sighs. "Tea?"
"Yes, please."
She goes off to the table in the corner and fills the kettle. There's something comforting about listening to it boil, Artemis thinks. Sounds like home.
BREAKING, flashes the TV screen, and she sits up sharply, kettle forgotten.
"Cass," she says. "Cass, look."
A shot of the Rocket, a huge, tasteless building with an overly ornate faux-classical façade; the front doors are broken and paramedics are carrying people away from the doors on stretches while cops with riot shields and arcanine mass in the street near the entrance. Celadon's Gym Leader, Erika, is standing a little way off with a jumpluff roosting on each shoulder, talking to her trainers and their grass-types.
"An unknown assailant has attacked the Rocket Casino," the newscaster is saying. "Witnesses describe a lone black woman working with an unidentified species of pokémon, who breached the front entrance half an hour ago and defeated the security contingent within seconds. Celadon Police are working with Gym trainers to coordinate an assault."
Erika seems to notice the camera and hurries on over, looking annoyed.
"Hey," she says. "You can't film this, we're in the middle of―"
The screen goes black for a second, then returns to the newsroom.
"Our apologies for the interruption," says the newscaster. "We have audio with Sonia Mallory, our reporter at the scene. Sonia, is there any possible connection between this and yesterday's claims about Dioli's actions?"
It's too early to tell, as it turns out; this is where things start getting repetitive again. Cass pours out the water and sits down next to Artemis.
"Hope she's doing okay," she says. "And, uh, Sovereign too, but I think they can probably handle themself."
"Yeah." Artemis bites her lip. "I mean, they said they took out all the guards."
"Yeah. That sounds good, and obviously it's got the cops scared, so I guess they've got a bit of time before they go in to stop them."
They sit there for a while, watching the newscaster repeat herself. Cass gets the tea and coffee, and they drink in silence. Ringo pecks at some mealworms from Cass' palm; Brauron licks ash pellets from Artemis'.
"I'm guessing you feel like shit too," says Cass.
"Yeah," replies Artemis. "I do."
She thinks she might have a headache. Maybe it's the not sleeping; maybe it's just that awful, crushing feeling of impotence pressing down on her.
"The police are currently pushing in," says the newscaster. "We're still unable to get you footage, but we'll keep you appraised of all future developments …"
"Ugh." Cass rests her head in one hand, leaning forward over her lap. "I hate this."
"Yeah."
"It wouldn't be so bad if we could just … I don't even know, actually." She inspects the inside of her mug. "You want any more?"
"No, I'm okay. Think I should have some water or something, really. Got a headache."
"Yeah, me too, actually. Guess it's the stress."
Cass takes both their mugs and fills them with water. They both drain them fast, but Artemis' head only gets worse, the vice of pain tightening around her temples. There's something ominous about that. Something like …
"Wait," says Cass suddenly. "Wait, I smell – if you have a headache and you smell burning, isn't that …?"
They stare at one another. Artemis can smell it too now, a coarse acrid tang like burning electronics.
"If I was Giovanni," says Cass. "And like Sovereign turned up on my doorstep …"
"Then you'd use everything you had." Artemis stands up, sharply enough to make Brauron dig her claws in and hiss in disapproval. She moves to the window and looks out through the dawn light, but there's nothing there, no blocks of static or spires of light. "But like I'm irradiated," she says. "He triggers breach, it spawns near me. Does he know I'm in town?"
"Maybe he's figured out you're working with Emilia?"
"Maybe." Artemis fidgets. Something is going on here, she's sure of it, but it's so hard to think through this headache. Does she even have all the pieces she needs to work it out right now? Difficult to say. "I think – I don't think he's trying to attack Sovereign."
"No?"
"No." Artemis keeps looking out at the street. It's quiet; this early, there isn't anyone around near the Centre. Definitely nothing out of the ordinary here. "I don't know. I just feel like – never mind. Dunno what I'm talking about."
She turns away from the window, and then freezes as the light streaming past her suddenly pulses green.
"Wait, what the―?" Cass leaps out of her seat, and the two of them press up against the window to see the houses across the street gone, a rippling wall of olive light filling the centre of the street. "What the hell is that?"
"I don't know!" cries Artemis, gripping the windowsill so hard she feels she might break her fingers. "I don't know, I – it's just a thing!"
The words are all nonsense, jumbled by her scrambled thoughts; there is blood coming from her eyes and she barely even notices, too caught up in the frenetic pounding of her heart. She stares and stares, bleeding as Brauron croaks and climbs up to press herself against her cheek, and then the big black car pulls up and Giovanni and crew climb out and she knows what's going to happen before they do it but she can't do a thing about it, just watches as the five of them hurry on into the light and disappear.
"Where are they going?" asks Cass. "Is that – are they escaping?"
"I don't know. I don't know!"
They were carrying something. What was it? Hard to say, but Giovanni had something in his arms, and at least some of the others had stuff too. Machinery, Artemis thinks. Machinery, being taken into – into wherever it is the light goes. Into breach.
She doesn't know what this means, exactly, but she doesn't need to. She knows it's bad, knows that it might be what he's looking for to complete his control over breach, knows, above all, that Sovereign is on the other side of town, completely incapable of stopping him.
"I … shit," she says. "I have to go in there."
"What? Are you serious? We don't even know what that is, let alone―"
"I have to," insists Artemis. "I can't let him do … whatever it is."
"How are you even going to stop him?" Cass demands to know. "He's a Gym Leader! And he has god only knows what horrible breach monsters with him. And – and – and hell, I guess I'm going with you."
"Oh, you don't have to," begins Artemis, automatic, hateful, but Cass will not let her finish.
"Artie. I'm coming. You too, right Ringo?" He screeches. "See?" Cass looks at her, defiant. "You can't ditch us that easily. And, uh … confession: one of the people who went in there with him was my aunt. I figure it's about time me and her had a serious discussion about some things, y'know?"
Artemis wants to say no, to forbid it. She wants to save her. Cass has already followed her further than anyone should have done; she shouldn't follow her here, to the point where her luck will probably run out and she will end up dead or captive or worse.
But she doesn't have that authority, and anyway Cass has as much claim to this as her; she's part of this too, irradiated enough by this point to get the headaches, if not the bleeding. And, well. Honestly, she could use all the help she can get.
"Okay," she says, wiping blood from her eyes. "What about you, kiddo?"
Brauron rears on her shoulder and flares her fins, ready to fight.
"All right then," she says. "Let's go, I guess."
"You said it."
They glance out through the window, at the light burning brightly in the street. Dawn seems to have vanished; the pavement is tinged with green now, as if the colours are seeping out of the wall and into the fabric of the world. Someone in the lobby is on the phone, gabbling about a weird light that just ate some people.
They go together out of the lounge, through the lobby and into the street. From here they can see people staring out of windows, phones up against their ears or held up to record the weirdness outside. For a long moment they stand there, staring, their pokémon silent and tense, the light blazing like a funeral pyre before them.
Cass' hand brushes Artemis' as if by accident, but it is not an accident, and Artemis takes hold of it in her own. They breathe in, and then hand in hand they walk into the light and out of the world.