Chapter 75 - Da Rocchi

Pat and Lori’s Glalie were the only ones out of their balls as Celeste hurried through the dimly lit streets. The Slowpoke lagged a few steps behind, acting as a lookout in case Nurse Joy decided to follow. Celeste tugged Glalie along with a scarf looped around his horn, her other hand steadying Lori, who slumped against Glalie’s back, mumbling incoherently. Lori was still too out of it to walk, and though Celeste had tried to find something for her feet, she’d come up empty. At least Silver, though not as affectionate as Lori’s Mamoswine, let her climb on without protest, allowing them to keep moving, if only just barely.

As they turned the corner and the Pokémon Centre disappeared from view, Celeste felt a brief flicker of relief. But it wouldn’t last. The danger was still there, lingering just out of the corner of her eyes.

They weren’t safe yet. Not until they were off this damn island.

The mansions lining the street loomed large, like haunted houses filled with killer nurses, and their numbers glinted under the bright moonlight—some of them in actual gold. “Eight… where are you, eight?” Celeste muttered, the address burning in her mind.

Obsidian Boulevard, 8.

She remembered this street from yesterday, though it felt like a lifetime ago. A little girl had been playing in one of the gardens. Amber? Was that her name? Celeste had been invited to a tea party with her Pokémon. It felt delightful right now, actually. A normal tea party. She glanced at the girl’s house as they passed by it—a grand place with wrought-iron gates and a perfect lawn. The gate was still locked, and the garden was empty now. Helix patterns twisted through the iron bars, and above them, the number thirteen was carved in cold metal. Celeste forced herself to keep moving. Eight had to be close.

She pulled on Glalie and urged the others—Delia and Pat—forward. Across the street, another gate came into view, modern and sleek, marked with the numbers one and two. The sound of waves crashing grew louder, and the air felt warmer as they continued.

It couldn’t be much further… she took a few more steps until…

“Here we are. Eight.”

Without hesitation, she pressed the buzzer by the entrance, her finger jabbing the button with more force than intended. As the gate remained silent, she tried peering through the gaps, hoping to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond. No iron bars here—just a high, black gate guarding a rather modern mansion. It wasn’t the haunted kind, at least. Not that it made Celeste feel any better.

After all, ghosts weren’t really her problem right now.

For a moment, Celeste’s eyes flicked to her shadow, half expecting it to detach and come to life. But it seemed there was nothing in there.

She went for the buzzer again.

Her fingers froze mid-air, though, hovering just over the button. Turns out Celeste still had some common sense left in her, and it kicked in with many, many doubts. It was early, and the sky was lightening, tinged with the first hints of dawn. So… five…ish in the morning? Maybe? They hadn’t slept all night and now the adrenaline was gone, her body was beginning to feel sluggish. Plus, even if someone answered the door, what was she even supposed to say?

Let’s watch the sunrise together. All of us!

You have a big house, mind if we crash at your place?

I offer you Delia in exchange for shelter.

With that last thought, she glanced over at Delia, who was fixing her bangs in a small pocket mirror, a goofy smile plastered on her face and completely oblivious to the situation. Celeste’s jaw clenched. This was the worst. If they were anywhere else, she’d be yelling at Delia for sneaking around with someone else before even settling things with Lu—.

Arceus, damn it. What was Celeste even going to tell Luan?

She was going to tell him absolutely nothing, that was what.

“Ari, is that you?” Giovanni’s voice crackled through the intercom, a yawn following his words.

Celeste nearly jumped out of her skin. She fumbled with the button. “N-Not Ari,” she stammered, and then an awkward silence followed.

“Look up,” the voice on the intercom instructed.

She glanced up and saw a tiny camera above the gate, its red light blinking to life. For a second, she thought of Amber again, playing in her garden, and how this street seemed to have very different notions of security.

Oh well.

Celeste grabbed Delia and pulled her into view. “Uh… she really wanted to take you up on that watching the sunrise offer.”

Was there a hole somewhere for Celeste to stick her head into?

A few unbearable seconds of silence followed, stretching on until a soft click broke it. The gates slowly creaked open.

“Come on in,” Giovanni finally said.

—*——*—

Giovanni greeted them with a smile—arrogant, flirty, and just a bit dumbstruck. He barely registered Celeste’s attempt at conversation before turning his full attention to Delia, planting a kiss on her cheek that left her blushing furiously.

Urgh.

At least he had the decency to step aside, letting the rest of them through. His unbuttoned shirt fluttered slightly, revealing a glimpse of his chest that Delia’s eyes immediately locked onto. Celeste caught a whiff of his cologne as she walked by, and it made her stomach churn. Gio was still wearing the same clothes from the party, and from the look of him, he hadn’t been home long. Still, Celeste would bet her night had been far more eventful than his.

“Uh… sorry to bother you so late… or, er… early?” she mumbled, trying for polite but landing closer to awkward. He answered with a simple shrug, leaving Celeste rubbing the back of her neck, unsure of what to do next.

The hallway they entered was spacious and well-lit, the minimalist design accented by carefully chosen pieces of art that seemed strategically placed for maximum impact. Celeste had to admit, Giovanni—or more likely his family—had good taste.

“I don’t mind the Slowpoke, but can you recall your Glalie?” Giovanni finally addressed her, his tone as smooth as ever. Celeste noticed Delia had already latched onto his arm. Barf. “It’s big, and my mother gets upset when things get damaged,” he added with a grin, clearly pleased with himself.

“Mother?” Celeste asked, while gently helping Lori off Glalie’s back while unclipping Silver’s pokéball from her belt. “Is your mother… around?” Will she mind your guests? Will she get angry? Angry… would actually be a welcome change.

Giovanni shrugged again. “This is one of our summer homes,” he said, his focus drifting back to Delia. “I’ve got it all to myself. Want a tour?”

The offer clearly wasn’t meant for Celeste or Lori. But Celeste wasn’t about to let Delia wander off alone with Giovanni. She stepped right past the red beam of Glalie’s Pokéball and into Giovanni’s face, forcing a smile right back at him. “I’d love a tour,” she said. Normally, she’d stay out of Delia’s business (who was she kidding) but this island… Just because they needed a place to stay didn’t mean she’d let her friend be alone with… Gio.

Giovanni half-turned to her, his expression only mildly annoyed. But he shrugged it off and led them down the hallway.

Despite herself, Celeste couldn’t help but admire the house.

The hallway opened into a spacious living area, where enormous windows framed a breathtaking view of the ocean, the pre-dawn light casting a soft, blue glow over the room. The walls were filled with more works of art. Giovanni mentioned that they were all made by local artists, and that his mother was a patron of local artists or something like that. One painting illustrated a wild Pyroar mid-roar, its mane ablaze, another showed a peaceful pond with Lotad resting on lily pads.

The furniture was modern, like the building, all following the same minimalist aesthetic from the entrance hall. A deep blue sofa dominated the centre of the room, its cushions in shades of coral and sea-foam green, mimicking the ocean outside. The coffee table, carved from the volcanic rock that was common all over Cinnabar, stood solid and imposing in the middle, while a large painting of a Ninetales surrounded by flames hung above the mantelpiece.

The Ninetales caught Celeste’s eye immediately, drawing her in.

“It’s my mother’s favourite too,” Giovanni said, noticing her interest.

“It’s beautiful,” Celeste murmured.

“Yeah… My mother looks at Ninetales the same way you do. It’s her favourite Pokémon… I think.”

“She has good taste,” Celeste said, offering Giovanni a genuine smile for the first time. But before the conversation could go any deeper, Giovanni’s attention drifted back to Delia, and the two wandered off, giggling and making eyes at each other.

Again. Barf.

Back to being annoyed, she urged Pat to hurry up as she guided Lori towards wherever they were supposed to be going.

The next room smelled of sea breeze, the coos of distant Wingull awakening mingled with the air. The entire back wall was made of glass doors opening onto a terrace that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the horizon. Beyond some lounge chairs, an infinity pool blurred into the ocean and further ahead a narrow stone path led from the pool down to a private stretch of beach, where gentle waves lapped lazily at the shore.

Celeste quickened her pace to catch up to the love-Pidoves before they wandered onto the terrace. “Sooo… what is it your mother does again?” she asked, eager to steer the conversation away from Delia’s endless string of compliments to Gio. “I don’t remember ever hearing about the Rocchi family.”

“She owns a big business.” Giovanni and Delia eventually stopped at the pool’s edge, and with a look that was somewhere between amusement and mild disinterest, he gave Celeste a slow once-over. “You’re not really impressed by the mansion, are you?”

“S-should I be?” Celeste shot back.

“Most people are.”

Celeste managed a smirk of her own. “Hard to be impressed by this sort of thing after you’ve visited one of Mr Stone’s villas.” She leaned in slightly, as if letting him in on a secret. “Joseph’s a friend of my parents.”

That’s right, rich boy, I can flex too.

Giovanni’s laugh echoed across the terrace. “Is that so?”

Celeste just raised an eyebrow back at him

But Giovanni shifted his attention to Lori, who was swaying like a Spinda, clearly struggling to stay upright. “Your friend’s in no condition to take a stroll on the beach,” he said. “Head back into the hallway, then take a left. You’ll find the kitchen there. There are some frozen Tamato berries in the freezer—you can make her some juice. Good for hangovers.”

Delia contorted her face into a playful pout, her eyes narrowing slightly. “We’re going to miss the sunrise if we don’t hurry.”

Oh, how Celeste hated this place.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

He nodded at his date, but made no move to rush. “Feel free to use anything in the kitchen. And take your time. Really.”

Celeste crossed her arms, locking eyes with Giovanni in a challenge. “What, no butler or maid to make it for us?”

His smirk widened. “If my humble home doesn’t meet Mr Stone’s standards, you’re welcome to leave.”

Touché.

Still, despite not having a witty comeback, Celeste held her ground, her gaze flicking between Delia, who was practically dragging Giovanni toward the beach already, and Lori, who was unsteadily collapsing onto one of the loungers by the pool. It was only when Pat finally caught up and shot a very worried glance at Lori that Celeste set her priorities straight. She turned her back on the couple heading for the beach, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.

Giovanni wasn’t a threat—just a guy too eager to show off. And even here, Celeste liked to believe Delia wasn’t helpless. Watching the sunrise was harmless enough.

It… would be fine.

All part of the lovely experience that was life in Cinnabar.

She knelt beside Lori, who was now reclining awkwardly on the lounger. “Put your feet up. How are you feeling?” Celeste asked gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lori’s forehead. Lori managed a weak smile, the colour slowly returning to her cheeks as the cool sea breeze washed over her. Celeste sighed, relieved. “Pat, could you keep an eye on her for a bit? I’ll go make that berry smoothie.”

—*——*—

Celeste moved slowly through the empty corridors of the mansion, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. The place wasn’t exactly creepy, but the silence and vastness nagged at her nerves until caution gave way to boredom. Her thoughts drifted, first back to the Pokémon Centre, and to Nurse Joy, and the others: Jenny, Jude, even the Dhelmise. Everything that had happened in Cinnabar… it was all too much. She knew she should face it all head-on, but the thought alone was enough to make her crumble before even reaching the kitchen. With a deep breath, Celeste forced herself to focus on the paintings lining the walls instead.

Giovanni’s mother had a very particular taste, it seemed.

There were no landscapes or still-life paintings here—no bowls of fruit or fields of sunflowers. Only Pokémon. And the further Celeste ventured into the mansion, the rarer and more fantastical they became. Gone were the Lotad by the pond and in their place were the magical and the legendary. She paused to admire a painting of a Volcarona mid-transformation from a Larvesta, its wings ablaze with too many colours. Then, she turned a corner and found herself in a hallway dominated by dragons—a Dragonair coiled elegantly around a single rose on one wall, while opposite, a black Charizard-like creature spat blue flames with terrifying intensity. Just outside the kitchen, a metallic Pokémon was painted. Its form vaguely resembled some kind of bridge and Celeste thought it had a Galarian air about it, even though she couldn’t quite place it.

She shook her head. Art could wait a little. Lori needed her smoothie.

Celeste’d seen Olga make the juice once—Tamato berries blended with tomatoes. She grimaced at the thought. It was going to taste awful. After finding the berries, she rummaged through the fridge for anything that might help mask the taste. But surprise, surprise—rich boy living alone had next to nothing in there. She guessed the staff didn’t bother much, and Giovanni was too indifferent to care about his own fridge.

Because you know… Cinnabar.

“This island…” Celeste muttered, slamming a cupboard open in search of a blender. “Paradise my—”

Her words trailed off as she spotted a set of knives in the corner, their blades catching the light in the same unsettling way as the scalpel from the night before. Her breath hitched, and she clenched her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the memories of Nurse Joy’s attacks at bay. It was a sudden and violent reaction, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. If she let herself cry now—No! This was still a stranger’s house, still Cinnabar. She had to keep it together. To stay alert.

She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Why’s everything so hard here?” she whispered, turning away from the knives and opening another cupboard. The blender was there. She plugged it in and tossed the berries inside. As the machine whirred, reducing the fruit to mush, she noticed a fancy coffee maker in the corner. Coffee seemed like a good idea after the sleepless night she’d had. Without much thought, Celeste began pressing buttons, hoping to get the machine going. But her eyes kept drifting back to the knives.

“…No need to worry…” The words slipped from her mouth, tasting bitter and hollow. She punched another button, and the machine began to hum. Maybe she shouldn’t ignore everything? Maybe—

“Is this place safe?” she finally asked, not to herself, but to her shadow.

Yep, she had completely lost it.

“Hell no.”

Celeste froze, staring at the shadow, half expecting it to sprout eyes or move. But the voice hadn’t come from there. Her gaze snapped to the doorway, where a girl was leaning casually against the frame. Arms folded, eyebrows raised, with a Murkrow perched on her shoulder. The bird cawed, a snickering sound, its wings fluttering just enough to send a small gust of wind through the room.

The girl clicked her tongue, irritated. Her short, spiky red hair, complete with an undercut on one side, swayed into her eyes. “Rebel, I told you not to do that,” she scolded, holding the Murkrow’s wings down. She turned her attention back to Celeste, rolling her eyes. “He’s fidgety. So… how much coffee are you making?”

Celeste just stared, taking in the girl’s appearance. Rebel, the fidgety Murkrow, didn’t stop shifting as the girl walked over to the coffee machine. There was something off about the whole situation, but the most striking thing was how tightly the Murkrow clung to its trainer’s shoulders, almost like it was afraid to let go.

Bug, dark, ghost…

Sooner or later Celeste kept coming back to that, didn’t she?

Still unsure, Celeste stepped aside, letting the girl inspect the coffee machine. The girl wasn’t smiling, nor was she relaxed like everyone else on this strange island. Her leather vest was studded with spikes, as sharp as her features, and her fishnet stockings seemed out of place in the warm Cinnabar weather, adding some kind of edge to her look. She had the vibe Celeste associated with Spikemuth—yeah, stereotypes are bad, but sometimes they are spot on. Which begged the question: was she somehow unaffected by the island’s strange influence, or was this her version of happy?

Dark. Bug. Ghost. Celeste’s thoughts returned to the Murkrow. It… was dark, wasn’t it?

“You’re lucky Gio’s in a good mood. Normally, he’d eat you alive for messing with the settings,” the girl said, her fingers deftly pressing buttons on the coffee machine. After a few beeps, a dark liquid began to drip into the jug below. Murkrow cawed happily, but the girl’s expression remained annoyed. “So… let me guess—you’re Gio’s date or something?” She turned to Celeste, who felt her face flush.

“Not really my type… uh… you… Are you Ari?”

The girl squinted back at her. “If you’re not Gio’s date, then…?”

“My friend is.” Blergh, still horrible to say that out loud.

Awkwardly, Celeste turned back to the blender, which was churning away, reducing the berries into a thick, unappetising red paste. Lori wouldn’t care about the taste, not here on Cinnabar. Celeste switched off the blender and glanced back at the girl, who was still staring intently. “I’m Celeste… H-How are you doing?”

“Ariana Connors. Or just Ari, like you said. Whatever.” The girl replied without moving a muscle. Unlike Giovanni, her gaze wasn’t judgmental, but it was sharp, as if she was searching for something specific. “You got a Pokémon out with you, Celeste?” she asked.

“Uh… yeah. A Slowpoke. He’s watching over my friend on the terrace,” Celeste replied, gesturing to the unappealing concoction in the blender. “I’m, um… making her breakfast.”

Ariana looked at the Tamato-tomato sludge and wrinkled her nose. “Mmhm…” She paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Any other Pokémon?”

Celeste hesitated, her eyes flicking to her shadow. It wasn’t exactly an answer, but it caught the attention of Murkrow, who narrowed its eyes at the dark shape on the floor. Ariana seemed satisfied enough, her posture relaxing slightly as she grabbed the coffee jug. She moved with an ease that suggested familiarity with the kitchen, opening a cupboard and pulling out two mugs with practised precision. She poured the coffee, yawning as if the entire process bored her to tears.

“I’m having a shitty day,” Ariana said bluntly, handing Celeste a mug. “It’s wet, it’s hot, and instead of partying all night, I’m stuck playing Girl Scout. Worse, I had to wake up early to sneak past some idiots just to check on Gio.” She took a long sip of coffee, leaning on the counter with a nonchalance that didn’t match the tension in the air. “So… Celeste, was it? Are you having the time of your life in this paradise?”

The sarcasm in her voice was way too clear for Celeste to have any doubt. She also leaned back, forcing a grin. “Between the freaky stuff happening, my hungover friend with an injured foot, and my other friend who’s off doing who-knows-what with a rich, mysterious stranger? Yeah, ‘time of my life’ sums it up.”

Ariana snorted, her expression softening just a touch. She grabbed a cup, poured the juice from the blender, and added some water and sugar, mixing it until the consistency seemed drinkable. “This for your hungover friend?” she asked, handing the cup over. “Didn’t know people could even get hungover here.”

Celeste blinked in surprise. “T-thanks.”

“And don’t worry about the rich stranger. Gio’s got this thing where he thinks he has to be a gentleman and protect the girls he’s with. Annoying and stupid, but at least he cares, even now. All he’s gonna do is try to impress your friend.” Ariana raised an eyebrow, watching as Celeste processed her words.

It took a moment. Celeste opened and closed her mouth a few times, but the words wouldn’t come. Ariana… she seemed more annoyed than anything. Probably a little bored. Whatever she was feeling, it sure as hell wasn’t mindless happy or complacent like everyone else…

“So… ghost in your shadow?” Ariana asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Uh… who are you again?” Celeste finally managed to ask, still thrown off balance.

Ariana sighed. “Dark-type,” she said, gesturing to the Murkrow on her shoulder. “Rebel here can use his darkness to protect me from whatever’s taken over the island. As long as he’s close, I’m not a zombie like everyone else.” She turned toward the door, already moving on. “I thought they’d rounded up all the trainers…”

Celeste hesitated to follow, watching Ariana vanish. “R-rounded up as in…”

“Relax.” Ariana waved a dismissive hand. “The leading theory is that a psychic is behind whatever this is. So trainers with Bug, Ghost, and Dark Pokémon didn’t get affected like everyone else. Some folks took charge, rounded us up, and now we’re all hiding out together. Good for safety, I guess, but a pain in the ass with all the rules. I keep telling them I need to check on Gio, but they won’t let me go anywhere alone, and they won’t let me bring him to the hideout because ‘security.’”

“T-trainers?” Celeste’s heart pounded in her chest as she rushed to follow Ariana into the living room. “As in… more than just us?”

“Bugs are pretty common, y’know?” Ariana replied, sounding all bored again. “Yeah, there’re a few of us. And enough Pokémon to actually hide half—” She cut herself off, her gaze flicking around the room warily. “Better not say it aloud. The… the eyes. You never know when they’re watching, or what they can actually understand.” For a moment, she paused. “Anyways, rules are a drag, but it’s better than losing your mind here. It’s been, what? Two weeks now? How’d you manage on your own?”

Celeste tightened her grip on the cup, her knuckles whitening as she caught sight of Pat peeking at her through the glass doors leading to the pool area. Lori had dozed off, oblivious to all that was going on. “We actually only got here a few days ago,” she said, noticing Ariana’s frown deepen. “It’s been… tough. We had to fight a Dhelmise just to get in, and then there’s this guy… Jude? He’s everywhere and…”

“No one notices or cares,” Ariana cut in. “And yeah, it’ll drive you crazy. We’ve all been through it. He’s not real. I think? Caleb—one of the guys in charge—he’s got an Orbeetle trying to figure it all out. Says ghosts and Dark-types can see through them, but it’s trickier for bugs.”

Celeste blinked. “N-not real? So… the Nurse Joy…?”

“And the Jenny. Yeah, they are a… construct of some kind?” Ariana waved her hand dismissively. “Hey, don’t ask me how it works. I just know enough to stay out of trouble. But there’s an actual Nurse Joy hiding with us. She was treating a Venonat when this all started. Gets pretty pissy if anyone mentions the look-alike roaming around. Kind a funny when you think about it. She’s a Nurse Joy after all. Anyway, as long as they don’t see you as a threat, they won’t follow you. Keep a low profile, act like everything’s fine, and you’re golden. I mean, if you’ve made it this far on your own, you’ve figured that out already.”

“Low…. profile?” Celeste murmured, walking slowly toward Lori and setting the juice by her side. Pat trotted over, nuzzling her leg with concern, and Celeste noticed Ariana watching them closely. “He’s… also not affected, somehow,” she added.

Ariana’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before she changed the subject. “Tell me about this Dhelmise you saw. That’s a rare Pokémon, isn’t it?”

Celeste let out a nervous laugh.

“This place really did a number on you, huh?” Ariana added, though her tone lacked any real concern. “Look, I want to help, but I’ve gotta look out for myself first. If you tell me about it, I can make sure there’s nothing weird going on and maybe get the others to let you into the hideout. So just… chill.”

“Chill?” Celeste’s eyes twitched as she turned to face Ariana. The girl tightened her grip on Murkrow’s wings but didn’t say anything, just waited. “There’s a murderous Nurse Joy next door, and those eyes you mentioned? They’re like everywhere! Plus Dhelmise? It’s a giant ghost anchor that will try to drown you with kelp. But sure… I can chill.”

“Murderous Nurse…? But they’re only…” Ariana’s confident facade faltered for the first time, and she took a step back. “You… kept a low profile, didn’t you? Tell me you weren’t stupid enough to provoke them?”

Celeste waved her hands defensively. “I just asked her for help! She attacked me with a scalpel!”

“Fuuuck.” Ariana took another step back, her face paling. “And you came here? To put Gio in danger? His mom’s gonna kill me if—”

“I—” Celeste glanced desperately at Lori, who was still asleep. “Wait, I just—”

“You gotta go.”

“What?”

Ariana shook her head, her voice growing colder. “You gotta go before the fake Nurse Joy thing shows up here.”

“Go...? To your safe place with the other trainers?” Celeste’s voice wavered, desperation creeping in.

“Hell no. Those things are probably hunting you. I’m not risking my safe spot.”

Celeste tried to step closer, but Ariana immediately backed away. “You can’t just leave me—”

“I don’t fucking know you,” Ariana snapped, her hand hovering over her Pokéball belt. Celeste, panicking, lunged forward, trying to grab Ariana’s hand before she could start a fight. But Ariana was quicker than she looked, sidestepping Celeste’s move while holding onto her Murkrow. Pat, sensing the tension, wobbled forward, ready to defend his trainer.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ariana hissed.

“I don’t want you to attack me,” Celeste panted, regaining her balance. “I just… I just want to get off this island… To leave—”

Ariana’s grip on Murkrow tightened, her eyes turning colder. “Then leave. Rebel...” The Dark-type’s beak filled with darkness, and Celeste’s pulse quickened when she noticed her Slowpoke also getting ready to attack. But before Pat could launch a Water Gun and get into a battle where he was slower and had the disadvantage, she stepped between the two Pokémon.

“Just… is Nurse Joy—I mean, that thing… is it really going to be after me?” Celeste asked, her voice trembling. “If… if I leave my friends here, will they…?”

“I don’t fucking know, but you’re not sticking around and putting Giovanni in danger.” Ariana stopped her Pokémon from attacking, but stepped aside, pointing toward the exit. “If you leave now, I can get something for your friend’s feet. How about that? They can all stay here in blissful ignorance. You won’t get a better deal.”

Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a bit of an asshole, you know?”

“Because I’m looking out for my own skin?” Ariana scoffed. “Yeah, real bad guy over here. But if you don’t leave now, I’ll have no problem kicking your friends out, too.”

This was the worst. Celeste clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. With a final, bitter glance at Ariana, she turned to her Slowpoke. “Let’s get out of here, Pat.”