Chapter 1

With a wary sigh and much head shaking, he hit the power button on the side of the computer once again. As the machine booted up the man rubbed his stubbly chin and pondered the problem. "It can't be a hardware problem," he muttered, glancing at the phone and wondering if he should call his sister-in-law, "I just got this thing upgraded. Unless..."

The computer interrupted the man's musings with a loud beep; although in his frustration he hardly noticed the way the normally friendly sound had something of a sarcastic tone to it. With a stern look, he watched as the login window popped up, overlapping the swirls of dark purple that made up his desktop image.

"Robert Kozlovski," he typed in the first box, before glancing guiltily over his shoulder and typing his password in the second. "There!" he commanded the machine, "Now let me in this time!"

"Sorry, invalid password!" flashed across the screen almost instantly afterwards, the small gray rectangular image that contained the words wavering slightly.

"What?! This isn't possible-!" he exclaimed, frustrated by the machine's unwillingness to comply, throwing his arms into the air in defeat, "Oh, I give up!"

"Vivian!" he called out, hoping his voice would carry down the hall, "What's Laurna's number?"

"It's number nine on the speed dial, Bob," replied an amused voice that made Bob lean his head back to see the approaching upside- down image of his stepdaughter holding a tray with a tea pot and a rather large mug, "But you'd probably only get her answering machine. She's going to busy for a while yet."

"Hey, Miri," said Bob in a wary tone, shuffling back down into a more comfortable position as the courier set the tray down on the desk beside the monitor, "Sorry, I forgot about your friend's Challenge today."

"No biggie. Oh, and Mom said you were having trouble with the new system," his stepdaughter replied in a curious tone, her stormy gray eyes narrowing as she spotted the error message, "She thought some tea might settle your nerves."

"Bless you both, Miranda," chuckled Bob, pouring the steaming liquid into his mug as the woman went around the other side and hit the "Enter" key, "Hey, what'cha doing?"

"Testing a theory," she muttered, waiting as the error message reluctantly vanished, replaced by the login window once again, "Hold on a sec."

Bob smiled, and tried not to laugh as Miranda quickly typed, "If that's YOU in there, you're in for some serious trouble!" before hitting "Enter" once more.

"That should do it," she said, standing up straight with her arms folded, a stern look crossing her face.

"That's the look your mother gives people she's angry with," chuckled Bob, amazed when the login message suddenly vanished, and words suddenly appeared floating in the ethereal background image.

"I'm sorry..." they read before dissolving inexplicably, only to be replaced by "I just wanted to play with the new toy."

"No excuse," said Miranda aloud, causing her stepfather to push his chair back from the desk and glance back and forth between his computer and stepdaughter, "You should always ask first. And besides, I don't want you screwing around with this system. If there's ONE bit of data out of place, I'll be 'returning' you until the festival's over. You got me?"

Bob felt an icy chill trace its way down his spine as he suddenly realized that his wife's daughter wasn't a crazy person talking to an inanimate computer and getting responses. A moment later, his suspicions were confirmed.

Once the words had vanished from the screen, dark, vile smoke rose from the back of the monitor and a sad, apologetic sound issued from the speakers as it began to congeal.

Bob glanced at Miranda again, feeling beads of sweat forming along his brow even as she stood confidently watching as a ghostly shape reflected off the lenses of her glasses.

"Haunt..." pouted an apologetic voice that made Bob jump in his seat even though he knew what to expect. Nervously, he turned towards the ghost, trying not to shiver at being so close to a haunter.

"I know, but it's no excuse," chastised Miranda, her tone maternally stern, but not unforgiving, "And look, you've scared poor Bob half to death!"

The haunter turned towards Bob, whose face had become deathly pale. "It- It's alright," the man stammered, smiling weakly and inwardly wishing that his stepdaughter would keep better tabs on her pet ghost, "Really. No harm done, I'm sure."

"Haunter, haunt!" the ghost assured, nodding enthusiastically by tilting his whole body forward and back while keeping his disembodied, three fingered hands clasped together apologetically.

Miranda raised an eyebrow as her stepfather nervously reached for the keyboard, quickly logged in and began sifting through company data. "How's it look?" she asked, giving her haunter a warning glance and making him shrink back a bit.

"Looks fine," commented Bob, his confidence returning as he noticed how much faster the machine seemed to run, "Better than before, actually."

Miranda glanced up at the ghost suspiciously, only to find him with his hands behind himself, looking innocent and whistling tunelessly. "Hey, the new processor's running at 0.85% faster than before," commented Bob half rhetorically, glancing up at the ghost with a smile and trying not to laugh, "Hey, thanks pal!"

Miranda smiled in spite of herself. "Wraith?" she inquired coyly, trying to catch her haunter's eye as he looked everywhere but at his trainer, "Just what were you doing in there?"

"Haaanter..." Wraith replied innocently, spinning around and staring out the window at the seemingly perpetually overcast sky.

"You didn't mess with any of the accounts, did you?" the courier inquired a little more sternly in a warning tone.

"Haunt!" the ghost exclaimed in denial, his eyes spinning around his body to face his trainer as his hands came up defensively.

"You'd better not of," Miranda warned, taking out her wallet and digging out a plastic card.

"I- I'll just check out your courier card," stammered Bob, calling up the right window as he shook his head at Wraith. The haunter seeming cautious as he moved his body around in place so that his strange eyes would be attached to his face and not his back, "Thanks."

Bob glanced at Miranda's card, wiping dust off the magnetic strip against his pant leg before slotting it into the reader just below the D:\ drive. A moment later, Miranda's account came up in a special window and Bob handed the woman back her card.

"Wow," chuckled Bob, going through Miranda's virtual logbook, "I think we've been overworking you, Miri. These dates indicate that since you started, the only vacation time you've taken is when the Halloween Festival is on. And that's really only a few days out of a year."

"Hey, I took a couple of days off in Cerulean this August," his stepdaughter replied, leaning on the back of her stepfather's chair as she moved in close to read the scrawled text on the screen.

"Yes," corrected Bob, nodding thoughtfully as he highlighted a portion of the log, "But that's only because we didn't have anything for you except for that mail delivery you did. Goodness this thing is fast!"

Miranda smirked, glancing up at her still guilty looking haunter as Bob called up the courier's financial records. "Come here," she said, holding out her hand and giving the ghost a small smile, "I think I can forgive you."

Bob leaned back in his chair as Wraith floated past him and into his trainers arms. "I don't know how you crazy Lav' brats can do that," he commented, double-checking the records to make certain that they hadn't been altered.

"But I like ghosts," Miranda replied, unsuccessfully banishing the defensiveness from her tone as she walked a short distance and sat down on the couch that was at least four years her senior, "They're cute in their own way."

Bob found his commented choked off by his amazement as gave his stepdaughter a startled look. "C-Cute?!" he stammered, trying not to sound hysterical as Miranda sat with one leg over the other contentedly running her fingers along the top of her haunter's head.

"Yes," Miranda responded wistfully, her stern expression replaced by a look of maternal love as her long fingers vanished within the strange dark substance that comprised Wraith, only to come away a moment later, trailing dark ephemerae which she watched dissolve away soon after, "Besides, if it wasn't for Wraith, I'd still be having nightmares."

Bob nodded, as always trying to be the understanding fatherly type, but never quite succeeding. "Funny that," he said, before doing a double take as he glanced at the updated financial report, "If I had a ghost in my lap, I think I'd have more nightmares- Miranda! You won't believe this!"

The courier glanced up as Wraith smiled and closed his eyes. "What is it?" she inquired, pushing her glasses back up her nose, causing them to shimmer.

"Well, the good news is, is that you're very much in the red," replied Bob, glancing over at her and trying to sound serious, "The bad news is, is that I think we really need to take a look at how we pay you guys!"

"Why?" laughed Miranda, her tone indicating she wasn't really taking the man seriously as she continued to pet Wraith affectionately.

"Well, um..." stammered Bob, biting his lip and looking from the courier to the screen, "It seems that you're up 20,000 cred."

"Tenth credits, maybe," she chuckled, shaking her head, "Seriously, Bob, if you saw the places I've been staying lately, there's no way I could possibly have saved up that much money in my travels."

The man shook his head in patient disagreement. "Courier Miranda Lilcamp," he read tapping a pencil against the screen for effect, "Current credit balance +20,000 credits."

"That has to be a mistake," commented Miranda, her tone becoming mildly suspicious as she leaned over to see the monitor, "I could understand maybe 2000, but 20K? That's just not possible."

Bob sighed warily, holding up his hands in defeat. "The system says 20,000, kiddo. But I'll do a complete system check just to be sure," he replied, reaching for his mug and sipping at the finally cool enough to drink Earl Gray tea, "Would you like some while we're waiting?"

Miranda smiled. "Thanks," she said with a nod, "But I'll have to get my tea cup, hold on."

Bob gave her a curious look as his stepdaughter poked the ghost in her lap playfully. "Wraith, dear," she said playfully, sounding like a damsel in distress, "Would you be a sweetie and fetch me my cup?"

Wraith opened one eye and muttered an affirmative response before one of his disembodied hands flew up and grabbed the eye. To Bob's abject horror, and Miranda's infinite amusement, the eye came loose with a loud, wet popping sound before being carried off by the hand. A second later, the haunter's other hand followed, and the trio of ghostly, ephemerate body parts floated out through the wall.

"Three, two..." whispered Miranda with amusement as she stared up at the faded wallpaper of the far wall, "One!"

"Ahh-! Miranda Lydia Lilcamp!!!" came the angry scream of her mother, making the room's three occupant's laugh, "If you want something, get it yourself!"

"Oooh," commented Bob, keeping his amused tone low, "'Power Word Middle Name'!"

"Now I'm in trouble," the woman replied, giggling as the sound of a quiet electric motor drew close.

"Yes you are!" replied her mother, gliding into the room upon her electric wheelchair, clutching a handless teacup in her free hand and being pursued by Wraith's missing pieces.

"Sorry, Mom," the two human's intoned with amused expressions on their faces as Vivian glared at them with both with her mysterious magenta coloured eyes.

"Take care of this thing," the wheelchair bound woman said in a more neutral tone, tossing the cup in her daughter's direction, "It was his."

Miranda leaped up and caught the spinning teacup in both hands, nearly dying of a heart attack in the process. "Yes, Mom, I will," she promised, sitting back down and not really noticing that Wraith seemed unperturbed by her suddenly moving through him twice.

"You'd better," she commented, glancing back at Bob with an apologetic look.

He returned her glance with a reassuring smile that made Vivian close her eyes and nod happily. "Sorry," she whispered to her husband, who shrugged like it was nothing.

"I know you loved him," he said, glancing at Miranda who had suddenly taken an interest in the portrait of sunset on the wall, "I know you both did. And that's alright."

Vivian nodded. "I just don't want you to think I love you any less," she replied, looking over at her daughter worriedly, "And don't you go thinking I don't care about your father just because he's gone. He was a good man, and I'll always love him in my own way."

"I know," whispered Miranda, her voice barely audible as her mother backed up out of the room.

"So, Miri," said Bob rather quickly as the sound of Vivian's wheelchair faded down the hall and Wraith finally got around to reconstituting himself, "it'll take a while to scan disk and defrag, so while we're waiting, why don't you tell me about Wraith? I don't recall you ever really mentioning when and where you picked him up."

Miranda chuckled as she got up once again and poured herself a cup of tea. "It's a long story," she replied with an amused smile, sitting back down and going back to idly spinning her fingers in Wraith's ephemera as though she were winding spaghetti onto a fork, "But if you really want to hear it..."

"Definitely," assured Bob, trying not to twitch as the courier lifted her fingers out of the dozing haunter's body and watched the spirit stuff slide back down to it's owner as though it were a living thing, "It might help me to understand Wraith a bit better, and make him less disquieting to me. Heck, it might make all you crazy people here in Lavender make more sense to me."

Miranda smiled, chuckling quietly as she looked down at Wraith lovingly. "You knew what you were getting in to when you married Mom," she teased, "And I think you've lived here long enough to understand us Lav' brats. There's two kinds of people who live in a place like Lavender Town, those who embrace the creepiness, and those who ignore it. Everyone else left ages ago. And besides, Mom came here when she was younger as opposed to being born here, so she's not really a Lav' brat."

Bob nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I remember the story," he replied, sipping his tea and glancing at the progress meter, "Your Father brought Vivian and her sister here from Neon Town. But your mother is loath to talk about the reasons why. Only that it has to do with your grandparents on her side. But that's not really what I wanted to talk about, now is it?"

Miranda smiled, nodding in agreement. "You wanted me to tell you about Wraith," she agreed, holding her teacup aloft and reminiscently examining the ring of dragonairs that encircled its outer surface near the rim, "Very well then, Bob. If you really wanna know, I shall tell you. It all started back three, going on four years ago now when I was on my first assignment alone after my rather short apprenticeship with Joshua had ended..."

The early morning sun glinted off the sea of windows that made up the business section of Vermillion City, making the courier squint against the glare as she rode her mountain bike down the still quiet, pre-rush hour main street. Ahead of her rose the tall, rectangular shape of the Sylph Co office tower.

Although it was less than a tenth of the size of the main Sylph Co Arcology in Saffron, which took up an entire four city blocks, the building was impressive in its own way. The strange apparatus upon its roof, for instance, marked it as the only building in the district with a functional transposition array. Although the technology wasn't uncommon, it was still overly expensive, and only large corporations like Sylph and a few of the better known poke prof's could really afford them. Although the later was often through city council sponsored grants.

The girl squeezed the breaks, dropping her feet off the pedals, the soles of her shoes scraping along the ground as the bike skidded to a halt not far from the main door. Shivering against the chill morning air, the courier glanced towards the double glass doors and checked her hair in the reflection that faced her.

"I hope they're open," she commented to herself, walking her bike towards the empty bike rack and locking it securely before heading towards the entrance.

As she approached, the twin reflective doors slid open into the walls giving her a clear path into the lobby and a clear view of the yawning receptionist who doubled as a security guard.

"Excuse me, miss," the courier called, bits of dirt and gravel falling off her shoes and collecting in a path across the gleaming clean floor tiles, "I have a package for professor Iago."

The woman looked up from her coffee and smiled. "I'm afraid he's in a meeting just now, miss... ?"

"Lilcamp," the courier replied with an ingratiating grin, "Miranda Lilcamp."

The woman nodded, looking down at the small stack of papers before her. "Hm, seems he's been expecting you, actually," she said with a bit of a curious scowl, "He said the package was important."

Miranda nodded. "Can't say what it is, though," she commented, dragging her backpack off her shoulders and opening it quickly before yanking out a large manila envelope with a large rubber stamped 'Private And Confidential' stenciled across it.

"I have a few ideas," the receptionist chuckled, taking a card key from a desk drawer "But hey, you can just head up now if you'd like."

"That important, eh?" the courier inquired, taking the card and holding it up the overly bright full-spectrum fluorescent lights that all but covered the white tiled ceiling.

The woman nodded in agreement. "Yes," she explained, "but I'm not one to spread rumors about my boss."

Miranda chuckled at the thought and said, "And it's against our policy to ask personal questions about our clients, so long as it's nothing illegal."

The woman shook her head dismissively. "No," she assured as Miranda walked around her circular desk to the bank of elevators and slotted the security passcard, "It's nothing bad."

A few moments later, the courier leaned back against the wall of the elevator, letting out a held breath and shaking her head at the quiet, almost subliminal elevator music.

As the elevator ascended, Miranda watched the numbers on the LED display change, marking her passage up the building until it stopped inexplicably at the half way point. "What the-?!" she began, feeling the metal box she stood in suddenly jerk to a halt, making Miranda horribly aware of the fact that the lift was only being supported more than ten stories off the ground by two thin metal cables.

For a moment, Miranda held her breath, listening to the strange grinding noises just above her head. The awful elevator music, however continued, not quite loud enough to block out the sounds the elevator was making as the lights went out and the reddish tinted emergency lighting kicked in.

"This is not good," she breathed, her voice unconsciously kept low as the music suddenly changed, the annoying little tune twisting into a strange cacophony of half garbled sounds.

Miranda was certain she could make out bits of music from the local radio station, snippets of phone conversations, and pieces of several Sylph Co workers office answering machines in the mix. But before long, the chaotic garble slowly altered. The dozen or so voices all uniting to deliver a single message, each voice contributing but a single syllable to the simple, sinister sentence.

The courier shivered as she heard the words, her hand reaching for the handle of the wooden sword all couriers carried at their sides. "You're next!" the strange mixture of voices announced before the emergency lighting gave way to the standard illumination and the annoying elevator music returned as though it had never left. A heartbeat later, the elevator jostled roughly, and began to rise once more.

"That was not funny," muttered Miranda, feeling her pulse race as she ascended, watching the LED tick off the passing floors with apprehension until finally reaching the twenty-fifth floor.

As the doors slid open, and the lift let out a polite little chime, the courier released her grip on her sword hilt and stepped cautiously out onto the white-carpeted floor.

"Wow," she commented, glancing around at the dozen or so display cases containing prototypes of several of the mega corp.'s inventions, and the pictures of various pokemon that lined the wood paneled walls of the regional VP's office.

"You like it?" inquired a friendly, almost eccentric sounding voice from across the almost cavernous room.

Miranda turned her gaze to the far wall, where a huge desk comprised of dark wood sat before a wall that was one enormous window over looking the city's harbor below. Behind the cluttered desk was a high-backed chair, swiveled to face the window so the courier couldn't see the speaker at all.

"Y-yes, Professor," the girl stammered, holding up the envelope and wishing there was somewhere to wipe her feet as she padded quietly across the carpet that probably cost more than she'd make in her lifetime, "I have a package that your associates in Saffron told me to deliver to you personally-"

"Ah! Excellent!" the man exclaimed happily, cutting the courier off as he swiveled his chair around and jumped to his feet excitedly, "The divorce papers at last! Where do I sign?"

"I wouldn't know," laughed Miranda, placing the sealed envelope on the desk before respectively taking a step back and giving the corporate scientist the once over.

Professor Iago's wide, toothy grin never left his round, bespectacled face as he tore open the envelope, and his dark blue eyes widening with delight as he yanked the small pile of papers free of their confines.

"Good-bye you conniving, evil, two timing, manipulative- Oh, sorry!" he muttered before glancing up at the sound of Miranda's stifled chuckle, "Can I borrow your pen?"

Miranda smiled, reaching into her coat pocket and handing somewhat diminutive man a writing implement. "No problem," she assured to his word of thanks before taking off her backpack again to dig out her clipboard, "Oh, and before I forget, I need you to sign this as well."

The smiling, happy man looked up as he signed his name for the third time on the legal document. "Well, so long as I'm signing my wife away," he chuckled, accepting the clipboard, "I might as well sign my life away too!"

Miranda laughed and pointed to the ninth space on the sheet of paper. "Just sign and print your name," she requested, finding the man's open handed attitude and amusing manner a far and pleasant cry from what she'd been expecting.

"Hey," commented Iago, glancing at the sheet of paper after signing the requested signatures, "What's this part here at the bottom about the Lilcamp Trading Company owning my soul?"

"What?!" exclaimed Miranda, yanking back the clip board and blushing as the man laughed, "Oh you!"

"Sorry, miss!" he chuckled running his fingers through his short brown hair in an unconscious gesture, "Just yanking your chain. But seriously, once I'm done with this I'm going to need to send these documents back. Would you mind?"

"Not a problem," the courier assured, shaking her head and causing her glasses to slip down her nose a bit, "I'll just write you up a quick delivery contract. Won't take a minute."

"Take your time," replied Iago, waving his hand dismissively, "Just take a seat over there and relax. I'm going to need my assistant for this last part anyway."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm not very good at legalese, I'm afraid," he explained, sitting back down in his leather backed chair and shaking his head at the document before hitting a button on his desk, "Excuse me, but would Professor Kipp please report to my office when she gets the chance."

"Former lawyer?" inquired Miranda with a bit of a chuckle as she found the appropriate form and sat down in one of the smaller, but still comfortable cloth chairs in front of the man's desk.

"Naw, just a master of red tape," explained Professor Iago, "Among other things..."

Miranda glanced up from her clipboard and was about to inquire when a concealed door to her right clicked open and swung inwards. From within the concealed room, the sounds a dozen or so people working at computer terminals could be heard over the gentle hum of spinning hard disks and noises of video games being played on company time.

Through the door, however, stepped a woman who made Miranda want to take a step back. 'Yikes!' thought Miranda, trying not to draw attention to herself a woman who was easily over six feet in height stepped gracefully into the room and casually flipped the door shut behind her.

"What's up this time, boss?" she inquired in a bored tone, running her fingers idly through her rather androgynous looking, shoulder length brown hair before crossing her arms across her chest.

"The papers came in today, Jo," Iago explained, handing the stack of stapled documents to the imposing woman and making no effort to hide the fact that he was staring blatantly at her legs, "I just need you to go over this last part. Looks a little suspicious to me."

Professor Kipp nodded as she turned several pages over, her light blue eyes going over the words of the document with calculating precision. "Yes," she said at last, her tone becoming business- like, "Basically, it says here that your ex-wife will receive ninety-five percent of your shares in Sylph Co if you sign here, but by signing back on page three, and NOT on page five, you've vetoed that. Unfortunately, though, by signing twice on page three, you've made it possible for her to take control of the South Bay research laboratory."

"There are worse fates," replied Iago with a shrug, prying his eyes off the woman's anatomy for a moment as he looked thoughtfully out into nothing, "There's not much she can do down there anyway. Besides play with fish I guess... And if she causes any real problems, she becomes President Mordeaux's problem, not mine."

"So who's her lawyer for the divorce anyway?" inquired Kipp, tossing the papers back on the desk and glancing over at Miranda for the first time.

"Dupont," her boss responded dryly.

"Hm, thought so," the woman smirked dismissively, "Looks like his work. Freaking amateur. Oh, and who's your new friend, by the way?"

Iago looked a little startled before glancing over the rims of his wide rimmed glasses in the courier's direction. "Lilcamp, right?" he inquired with a smile she now recognized as a lecherous grin.

"Miranda, actually," corrected the girl a little nervously, getting to her feet and placing the completed document on the desk, "Oh, and all that's needed is your signature here, at the bottom."

"Hold on. Let me see that!" replied Kipp suspiciously, snatching away the paper before her employer could get his stubby fingered hand on it.

"It- it's just a standard contract," stammered Miranda, chastising herself for feeling unreasoningly intimidated by the older woman's presence.

Professor Kipp nodded, her eyes scanning the document suspiciously before handing it to Iago. "Looks good," she said in a lighter tone, a thin smile crossing her lips as she turned to Miranda and held out her hand, "Hi, I'm Professor Joanne Kipp. Sorry about that, but I have to look out for my employer."

"No problem," the courier assured her, trying not to be annoyed at the thought of being so mistrusted as she took the woman's hand and shook it, "But I do have something I'd like to ask, if it's okay."

"Sure!" laughed Professor Iago, carefully putting the signed documents into a new envelope, "Ask away!"

"Well," Miranda explained a touch pensively as she glanced back at the elevator, "I had a bit of a bit of a problem with your lift on the way up here."

Kipp and Iago exchanged a quick, surreptitious glance that Miranda didn't catch. "Oh, we've been having problems with the elevators all week," the woman assured as the man nodded, "It's nothing to worry about, though. We have a repair crew working on it."

"But I think that there was a problem with the intercom as well," the courier continued, giving them both a suspicious look.

"The intercom?" inquired Joanne, glancing at Iago questioningly, "Why wasn't I informed, boss?"

Professor Iago shrugged and smiled defeatedly. "That's news to me," he assured, "but this building is old. There's bound to be problems."

Just then, a polite beep issued from a hidden speaker on his desk. "Professor, there's someone here to see you," came the paid to be pleasant tone of the receptionist downstairs.

"But I said I was in a meeting, Joyce," the man replied, pushing a button on the desk as he spoke, "Can't it wait? I'd like to gloat for a while longer."

"But you don't understand, Professor Balthaza'ar Iago," answered the woman's voice, her tone suddenly changing, becoming more shrill as a strange background noise akin to the sounds of a thousand shrieking voices filled the speaker before the receptionist's voice became far more dark and sinister, "You see, sir, it's just that you're next!"