Chapter Text
Wednesday Addams
Uncle Fester had invited them to an improvised camping trip somewhere within the Pine Barrens.
His enthusiasm was so great that they couldn’t doubt him, so they agreed. After all, he always had something to surprise them with, so they didn’t question him beyond the basics.
"Where exactly?" the seer asked, raising an eyebrow. She wanted to know how much of an arsenal they would need for the trip, she couldn’t risk missing the opportunity to hunt down some interesting creature they might find along the way.
“Pine Barrens!” he announced excitedly.
So there she was, in her room, packing everything she deemed necessary. Nothing out of the ordinary: some black clothes, metal and silver knives, a bear trap, holy water, and some recently sharpened wooden stakes. All of it fit perfectly in her backpack, and although she could include a few torture instruments, she knew she probably wouldn’t get the chance to use them, not when the trip would only last three days.
Her brother appeared, carrying his military backpack, excitement lighting up his face, along with a cloth bag full of homemade grenades and a small powder box with a skull drawn in black ink.
“Do you think there’ll be vampires there?” he asked hopefully.
The seer didn’t look up, carefully pouring holy water into a canteen.
“It would be disappointing if there weren’t,” she said, tucking the bottle into her backpack and zipping it shut, slinging it over her shoulder. Pugsley nodded and turned away, disappearing down the hall. The seer scanned the room, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything essential, and once confident she had everything, headed for the door. The sound of fingers tapping against the old wood made her stop in her tracks and look down.
«Can I come?» the hand signed.
She hesitated for a few seconds. Having an extra hand wouldn’t hurt, but there was also the fact that the house would be left solely in the care of her parents… and her mother had the annoying habit of entering rooms to “make sure everything was in order.” Wednesday knew perfectly well that was a poor excuse and far from the truth. But she had no proof—the elder seer was so agile and silent it was impossible to determine whether she had been there or not. She always managed to slip in at the right moment.
So she’d need Thing to confirm her hypothesis. The hand obviously couldn’t stop her mother, but she just needed it to be alert to any movement made in her absence. Especially now that the woman seemed to have a newfound interest in the letter that had arrived a few days ago, Wednesday had noticed her subtle change in behavior. She couldn’t lose sight of her.
“You’re staying this time. I have a job for you,” she whispered. The hand, if it had eyes, would’ve looked shocked, but since it didn’t, it simply tapped its index finger on the floor in protest.
«I thought vacations were for everyone» it wrote with hard taps, frustrated.
The girl rolled her eyes.
“You failed to give me information about Enid’s whereabouts, so consider this payment due.” A small smirk formed on her lips. “And if that doesn’t convince you, I can always tell my parents you won’t be coming back with me to the academy. Oh, Enid would be so heartbroken…”
The hand waved frantically, trying to stop her from finishing the sentence. "Fine! What do you want me to do?" it replied.
“You’ll stay in my room. You must inform me of any activity here, especially if it involves my parents,” she ordered with authority, stepping forward to stand right in front of it. “And if you dare betray me… believe me, you’ll learn every meaning of the word torture. Am I clear enough?”
Thing gave a sign of affirmation, fully understanding the threat. Wednesday nodded with a half-smile, proud of the outcome, and headed downstairs, where her family’s voices echoed through the house.
Though she would rather be hanged than admit it, she appreciated how helpful the hand could be. She’d have to find a subtle way to reward it later, but that would be for another time.
“All right, my children, remember: if you find any bones, make sure they’re human. We still need to finish decorating the library,” her father joked, hugging her mother from behind.
“And if they are, make sure they’re clean. No sticky remains in your uncle’s car,” her mother added, winking at her son. Pugsley gave a cheerful thumbs-up.
After a hug the dark-haired girl couldn’t escape, they finally said their goodbyes and climbed into the RV. Their parents stood at the entrance, watching them with smiles on their faces.
The vehicle was spacious enough to walk without bumping into the furniture inside: a small kitchen; that they likely wouldn’t use since a wood fire was more effective, a sink, a waist-high refrigerator; which could probably just fit the head of an adult human, and finally a small table ideal for two people. Their uncle had removed the bunk bed, arguing it wouldn’t be necessary since they’d be camping among the trees, “to enhance the experience,” he said.
“All right, kids! We’ll arrive in a few hours!” Fester announced, starting up the RV and pulling away from the property.
[…]
The journey to the forest was not that long. The speed limit had been completely ignored as the engine roared like an old, resilient beast. Everything inside vibrated, ready to crash against the walls if a turn was taken too sharply. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen, and they all stayed in place, firmly. The confined space smelled of gunpowder, questionable ointments, and a strange mix of dampness and old leather.
Wednesday watched the scenery pass through the old, grimy window, listening to her brother hum one of the melodies their grandmother used to play during dinner when she visited the mansion, setting the mood in some way.
She had her notebook on her lap, her fingers fiddling with the cover, trying to counteract the small feeling of unease that had taken over her chest. She felt anxious. Even if she tried to deny it, she couldn’t, not to herself, at least. That was the main reason she thought going to the camp was a good idea.
She loved spending time with her uncle, no doubt about it, but she could’ve said no. She had plenty to do: writing, playing her instrument, sharpening her knives, practicing fencing with one of her parents... she had a never-ending list of things. But she didn’t say no. She agreed.
She agreed because she knew that even if she followed her routine to the letter, none of it would help to ease the new emotions threatening to shatter the implacable control that had defined her for years.
She didn’t understand it yet. It was like trying to read an ancient scroll in the dark of night without knowing the language. It was a foreign language, and she wasn’t ready to learn it yet.
So she figured spending three nights in the wilderness, a potential prey to whatever creatures lived there, might help. At least, that’s what she hoped.
“Dad told me one of the biggest werewolf packs in the country lives around here,” her brother murmured after finishing his song. “Do you think we’ll see one?”
The seer didn’t respond right away, letting a moment of silence settle between them. When she had her answer, she spoke.
“There’s a little more than twenty-four hours until the full moon. If there are wolves around, trust me, we’ll hear them.” Her brother seemed pleased with the answer, nodding with a half-smile and turning back to the window, starting to hum again.
After what felt like half an hour, the RV rolled through the last stretch of dirt road. Between the tall, dark trees, a clearing opened up in front of a lake with water as still as the sky dimmed by twilight. The place was calm, though not silent: forest sounds, rustling leaves, creaking branches, the distant howl of some nocturnal creature, surrounded them like an ancient symphony.
Neither sibling moved, both observing the place from inside, trying to sense something more than just trees. When they didn’t see anything interesting, they stepped out of the vehicle.
Fester turned off the engine with an exaggerated gesture, jumped out quickly, and turned to them with a grin wide enough to show all his teeth.
“Time to camp!”
And they split the tasks, with Pugsley the first to volunteer to gather wood and stones, dashing toward the trees and disappearing among them. The raven-haired girl pulled out the tents and began setting them up silently, while her uncle busied himself trying to make spears sharp enough to pierce flesh effortlessly.
By the time they finished and regrouped, the sun was already beginning to sink behind the treetops, casting an orange glow across the lake’s surface, rippling like liquid fire.
“Squirrel roast or fishing?” her brother asked, having already arranged the branches in position, waiting only for the fire to come alive.
“Fishing,” Wednesday declared, already holding an improvised spear, crafted from a sharpened branch with a metal tip. The years may have passed, but her uncle’s skills were still intact.
Fester snapped his fingers, pulling an absurdly large kitchen knife from his coat and placing it on a rock for when it was time to gut the fish.
The three of them approached the water barefoot, pant legs rolled up to their knees. The water was cold and clear enough to detect movement beneath their feet. They waited patiently, like a painter studying his canvas, until the moment came.
Wednesday was the first to strike, her spear whistling through the air before plunging into the water with a dull thud, pulling her catch out and dropping it into a bucket at the edge. Her first strike was quickly followed by more. Pugsley caught his with a clumsy, splashy move that left him soaked up to the knees, but with two fish on his spear. And Fester… simply reached in and pulled out two with one clean, precise motion.
“Animal magnetism!!” he shouted, raising the prize like a trophy, which, in fact, it was. Wednesday was sure it would become one of his next useless, yet vitally important, bragging anecdotes.
She didn’t comment, but raised an eyebrow with slight admiration.
With everything ready, they squatted to clean the fish in pleasant silence, interrupted only by the sound of knives slicing through flesh. Blood mixed with the dirt, and the metallic scent soon filled the air.
Pugsley started the fire, placing metal rods at a good height before setting the seven fish on them, one by one.
If anything characterized the Addams family, besides their well-known reputation, it was their huge appetite, which is why every meal was celebrated with a grand feast tailored to each member’s taste. Wednesday was almost an exception. She liked eating, of course, the family butler’s culinary skills were exceptional, but she kept it well under control. The digestion required for such a quantity of food meant her body had to use extra energy, energy she preferred to save for more interesting activities. While the phantom hunger that followed was mildly annoying, she knew her body was getting exactly what it needed, nothing that could affect her physical or mental performance.
The fire crackled at the center of the camp, lighting it up. The fish sizzled over a makeshift grill, and the smoke spiraled into the sky, which was now beginning to fill with stars.
The place was surprisingly peaceful, with a silence that could unsettle anyone, broken only by the crackling flames. The seer simply sat and observed, not wanting to break the atmosphere that had formed.
Her uncle, however, had other plans. He went into the RV, rummaging for something. After a few minutes, he came out with a gray bag, worn by age, and sat on one of the logs, clicking his tongue to catch the siblings' attention.
“Well, kids, while we wait for our dinner to cook…” He paused as he reached into his bag. “I have little gifts for you. Running from the police had its perks, I collected lots of things along the way. Maybe you’ll like some of them.”
Wednesday and Pugsley exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible glance, but it was full of curiosity. Whatever it was, he had already caught their attention. The man smiled mischievously, narrowing his eyes, adding more suspense than necessary, like a child about to reveal his mischief to his parents.
Then he pulled out a pair of binoculars and handed them over with an even bigger smile. Upon inspecting them, they realized they were night vision binoculars, and judging by the material, very high quality. They smiled in gratitude.
“I’ve always wanted some! My regular binoculars are only useful until sundown, it’s boring in the winter.” His brother spoke after a few more seconds of examining the object in his hands, his voice tinged with sadness at the end. The dark-haired girl nodded in agreement. During the darker times of the year, it was harder to find entertainment that didn’t require natural light, they were always short on time, and the most fun things happened under the stars.
“Now you can do it any time, Pugs! But that’s not all I have, there’s more!” Fester announced, rummaging once again.
He pulled out more items, which they quickly identified: a pristine-looking Swiss army knife, a bulletproof vest that looked like it had few uses left, a decently sized stun gun, and a small device, this last one was the only thing neither of the two teens could recognize. The man held the objects out to them, letting them choose what they wanted.
The siblings spoke at once.
“I want the gun,” said Wednesday, reaching for the object.
“I want the knife,” Pugsley mimicked her action.
Fester looked at them with pride, letting out a small chuckle. “That’s the spirit!”
They divided what was left; Pugsley picked the bulletproof vest, while the psychic went for the unknown device, something about it caught her attention. Maybe a disguised bomb? She wouldn’t mind that at all.
“Good choice, niece! It’s a GPS device, you can track your location without the risk of being traced.”
That completely sold her. No doubt it would come in handy. She didn’t know exactly in what kind of situation, but she was sure she’d find one soon enough.
“Thanks. I’ll put them to good use at the academy,” she said without looking at him.
“So will I! This knife will definitely cut through a Hyde’s skin without hesitation,” Pugsley boasted, skillfully waving the blade in the air, pretending to stab someone.
Fester clapped joyfully.
“Hell yeah! I knew sneaking into that police station at dawn was a good idea, everything was brand new, so clearly they didn’t need it. Normies are so boring!” he complained loudly, raising his hands in frustration. “Alright, family, let’s see if those delicious fish are ready to be devoured.”
The fish were more than ready, so they served themselves on disposable plates, the origin of which the psychic preferred not to ask about, and sat down to enjoy their meal in pleasant silence.
The moon shone high in the night sky, surrounded by hundreds of twinkling stars. Wednesday appreciated the night much more this way, without the annoying light pollution of the cities. She could spend hours watching the little clouds move. Only twenty-four hours remained until the full moon, and it was starting to show, as the natural satellite glowed even more brightly, almost like a lighthouse.
I wonder how Enid is doing, she thought.
As she'd mentioned in her letter, she should be getting ready for her full moon trial, maybe nervous about what that implied. Was her inner wolf restless? She knew that happened to werewolves days before, as if their lupine side were desperate to break free from their human body.
She then thought about the letter, specifically, the one that might arrive at the mansion during her absence. Her roommate had said that if the first letter came, others surely would too, so it wouldn’t be surprising if, while she was at camp, an envelope showed up in the mansion’s mailbox.
What would the letters say? Gossip? That definitely suited the wolf.
But she doesn’t have a phone, she reflected. So it might be a long text about her boring activities at the farm, or perhaps a detailed description of her hockey training. Neither option seemed particularly interesting, but for some strange reason, she found herself willing to read whatever the blonde had to say.
Even though the seer hadn't suggested it, nor encouraged her to do it, she still appreciated the gesture, and the least she could do was take a moment to see what all those words on paper were about. She didn’t know why, but a small feeling of impatience settled in her chest at the thought.
She could already feel the consequences of allowing herself to get used to the blue-eyed wolf: her wild thoughts about anything that crossed her mind, able to spend hours retelling the same thing from different perspectives without getting tired in the slightest; her tone of voice when something excited her, or when something creeped her out and her tone trembled like that of a wounded pup.
Wednesday had even imagined her voice reading the letter, as if the girl were right beside her chattering away.
Alright, maybe she had reread the letter more times than she’d like to admit.
“I think I’m going to bed,” Pugsley yawned, stretching his arms once his plate was empty.
The dark-haired girl didn’t even know how much time had passed, completely absorbed in her thoughts. She looked up at the night sky, noticing the moon was already high, beautifully reflected on the lake’s waters, which remained in an enviable calm.
When was the last time she had felt this calm? she couldn’t help but wonder, already knowing the answer: before she enrolled at Nevermore.
That damn academy that only served to remind her how little control she truly had. She hated it, hated with every fiber of her being losing control. But she had. She lost it and nearly died.
Stop drifting, she reminded herself. Getting lost in her thoughts was becoming a habit, and an unacceptable one.
She brought herself back to the present. Her brother was already asleep in his tent, leaving her and Fester sitting there. The man stared at the fire, still chewing on what seemed to be the last grilled fish.
They remained there in silence, watching the flames slowly fade. The night was warmer than she would’ve liked, typical for the time of year, but to her surprise, it didn’t bother her. Though she preferred the kind of cold that seeped into the bones, she didn’t mind the soft heat on her skin just then.
“I don’t get why people are afraid of fire,” her uncle said, not taking his eyes off the flames.
The seer glanced at him sideways, not understanding the reason for his sudden comment. After a few seconds, he continued, his voice deep, almost thoughtful.
“Fire is beautiful. It can give you so much and take so much away. It's all about knowing how to handle it… the rest of the magic happens by itself.” His words came out in a low murmur, almost to himself.
She reflected before speaking, choosing her words carefully.
“Not everyone is ready to handle it. Sometimes… uncertainty works as a kind of comfort.” She spoke slowly, just loud enough for him to hear.
He looked at her with a faint glimmer of surprise, as if he hadn’t expected her to reply to his musings. Then he smiled slightly, with that mix of wisdom and mischief that was so uniquely his.
“No one learns to handle a knife without cutting their fingers along the way,” he added, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Wednesday looked down at the fire. The crackling of the wood filled the silence that followed.
“Sometimes, a good cut teaches more than a thousand warnings,” Fester murmured after a while, letting the words fall like a stone into a lake, not bothering to watch the ripples. “If you're afraid of getting your hands dirty, don't expect much in return. It’s the risks that really teach you. And improvisation…” he smirked, “is an art only a few know how to appreciate.”
Wednesday didn’t respond right away. She replayed his words in her mind, like a riddle she hoped to decipher. She didn’t entirely understand why, but something in what her uncle had said resonated within her, touching a chord she hadn’t even known was tight. She doubted his last words were really about fire, something told her he meant something else.
Without realizing it, she let out a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. She finally turned away from the dying flames and looked at her uncle, finding in his eyes a very familiar expression that made her shiver slightly.
She knew that look.
It was the same one her mother used when she saw through her, reading between the lines, as if the seer were an open book. But Fester wasn’t her mother. He couldn’t possibly know what was on her mind, or the effect his words had had.
Wednesday forced herself to calm her racing heart—a detail imperceptible to anyone… except maybe a vampire or werewolf nearby. She kept her face expressionless, and after a few seconds, Fester let out a long, defeated sigh before returning to his usual smile, that familiar mix of tenderness and madness.
“It’s late,” he said, rising with slow but sure movements. “Tomorrow awaits with fun activities.” He stretched noisily and looked at her with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about Nevermore. Tomorrow I want to hear everything, niece.”
She nodded, resigned. She knew her uncle wouldn’t rest until he got the details. Following his lead, she stood up, picked up her disposable plate, and left it in a bag beside the RV. Then, with mechanical precision, she brushed her teeth in the tiny indoor sink before heading to her tent.
The night wrapped around her, warm and vibrant, as if the forest itself were breathing. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.
[…]
The dawn found the campsite wrapped in a light mist, which slowly dissipated as the sun began to slip through the tall trees and reflect off the water, illuminating everything without being harsh on the eyes.
Wednesday opened her eyes slowly, giving her body time before stretching her sleepy muscles. She sat up with slow but firm movements, put on her boots, then unzipped the tent and stepped outside. Instantly, the unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached her nose.
Her uncle was by the campfire, stirring a small pot with a spoon as he prepared the drink. Her brother was sitting beside him on a log, holding a yellowed paper in his hands, completely focused on whatever he was looking at.
She walked over with a strong and confident step, catching the attention of the bald man, who looked up and gave her a friendly smile in greeting.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," he exclaimed, returning his gaze to the coffee after several seconds of eye contact. The brunette fought the urge to roll her eyes at the annoying nickname, nodding her head in greeting instead.
She walked over to her brother, who was still looking at the yellowed sheet. As she got closer, she realized it was a large map of the Pine Barrens, with several areas marked in red; some were irregular circles, and others more precise and recent. There were also handwritten notes in the margins, written in a shaky but legible script.
“Dad gave it to me, said there are interesting places around here, some abandoned and others occasionally visited by explorers,” the boy finally said, handing the paper to the seer. “There are swampy areas, caves, and abandoned houses. I think the abandoned houses are the most interesting, if there are spirits there, they’d be more than happy to haunt anyone who dares to enter, don’t you think?”
Wednesday didn’t reply, but she agreed. Abandoned houses were usually more fun than caves or swamps since there was a higher chance of finding cursed objects or bones from someone who had sought shelter there in their final moments.
“Coffee first, then we can decide our next destination,” Fester called out from his spot, motioning for the two youths to come closer.
When they did, the man handed each of them a cup. The seer accepted hers with a brief nod, blowing on the steaming surface before taking a sip. The drink was bitter and strong, perfect for starting the morning.
As her uncle had announced the night before, Wednesday had no choice but to recount what had happened at Nevermore, from the boring beginning to the inevitable and annoying end. She told it without embellishment, without exaggeration, but every word that left her lips left an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, as if simply reliving the events further poisoned her thoughts.
She narrated the events methodically: the discovery of the monster, the false leads, the suspicions, the revelation. She spoke of Tyler… and how she had fallen into his trap like a complete novice. Just the mention of his name made her fingers twitch. She still struggled to accept her own stupidity.
How was it possible? How could she have allowed even a part of her mind to think she might feel something for him?
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
The mere idea made her boil with rage, a cold, controlled fury that simmered beneath the surface, waiting. She wished she could go back in time, watch herself in those moments of weakness, and beat the naivety out of herself if necessary.
And if she ever crossed paths with him again... well, death would be an act of mercy he didn’t deserve. True justice would be seeing him suffer, slowly, with the same intensity he had condemned his innocent victims to. Those students who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and who now lived on only in the silent halls of the academy.
As she spoke, she stayed true to her habit: she only gave the details she deemed relevant, nothing more. There was no need to delve into emotions, or into wounds that had yet to fully heal—or at least, no need for anyone other than herself to know them. Her own mind was already a daily traitor.
When she finally finished, she fell silent, letting her last words hang in the air.
“Wow… Nevermore never disappoints,” Fester joked, shaking his head with amusement. “You certainly have more than one reason to want to go back, don’t you?”
“That’s right,” she replied dryly. He, however, seemed unfazed.
“And what about the wolf girl? Her corner of the room was horrifically colorful, I still have nightmares about those teddy bears,” he asked, looking at her with genuine interest in her roommate.
Wednesday sighed, thinking of what to say.
“Her name is Enid Sinclair, and she’s the one who fought the Hyde, but their battle was interrupted by the sheriff, Tyler’s father. Both of them were injured. Enid returned to her human form, and the Hyde got the chance to escape. His whereabouts are still unknown,” she finally said, taking another sip of her now-cold coffee.
“I’ve heard about Hydes, they’re resilient beasts that tear through everything in their path… Who do you think would’ve won?” the man asked, unaware of the weight that question carried.
The seer froze at the thought. What would’ve happened if the sheriff hadn’t intervened? Who would have come out victorious?
Would anyone have even made it out alive?
She already knew the answer to the first question. She would have searched every corner not only of Jericho but of the damn country for revenge if Enid hadn’t come out victorious. She wouldn’t have rested until she found him, until her thirst for blood was fully satisfied. She would’ve buried his remains in separate pits, spaced far enough apart that no one could ever find them. His suffering while alive wouldn’t have been enough.
If she had to die to haunt his worthless soul in the afterlife, she would’ve done it.
Because if there was someone who didn’t deserve to be involved the way she was, it was Enid. Her roommate had tried to avoid all possible danger, but was still dragged into the battlefield, and fought tooth and claw.
It had been her first transformation, her wolf likely felt clumsy with the new ability, and still she didn’t back down.
She had saved her, even though she didn’t deserve it.
She was the one who had put her in danger in the first place, tricking her into going to an abandoned place looking for stupid clues. And to make it worse, they had been right next to the Hyde the whole time.
So, even if she didn’t want to say it, she owed the wolf a huge debt. A debt she didn’t know how to repay, but she was fully determined to do so.
An Addams never breaks a promise, and that was one she would keep.
"Werewolves are tougher than pop culture gives them credit for," The brunette simply said after long minutes of silence. Fester smiled.
"They sure are. I’ve met a lot of werewolves in my many years of life, and they definitely have tough bones," he joked smoothly, earning a laugh from Pugsley, who had been listening attentively. Wednesday nodded, unwilling to add anything else, ending that exchange.
They continued talking after that, wandering through different topics with no apparent order, carrying on with breakfast.
[...]
"I say we go look for an abandoned house. I know there must be a few nearby," Pugsley suggested, spreading the map out on the ground and pointing at several marks on it.
Wednesday crouched down to take another look. The marked places weren’t too far, just a couple of kilometers west, a reasonable walk. The ruined places tempted her like poisoned candy.
"It’s a good option," she said simply, catching the satisfied smile of her brother from the corner of her eye upon hearing that she agreed with him.
"Then there's nothing more to discuss! Pack what you think is necessary and we’ll store the rest in the RV," their uncle announced, already dismantling the tents.
The siblings grabbed their things without much rush. They didn’t need to carry much anyway: flashlights, the new binoculars, knives, and in Pugsley’s case, a couple of smoke bombs he proudly made himself, “just in case we need to make a grand escape,” he said.
The seer also packed her new GPS, wanting to test it that same day, though she still doubted the capabilities of such technology. The stun gun, on the other hand, didn’t seem necessary for this occasion. Maybe one day she’d get the chance.
With everything ready, they entered the forest.
The air in Pine Barrens was dense, the humidity from the night hadn’t fully lifted, softening their steps with vegetation. Everything was silent, as if they were the only ones there. In such a vast forest, that was unsettling.
"And remember," said Fester after a while, "if you see a deer staring at you… don’t follow it."
"Why not?", asked Pugsley curiously, not slowing his pace.
"Because it’s probably not a deer," he answered simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
The brunette barely smiled, holding it back. Without a doubt, she’d be one of the first people to chase a deer through the woods. Not because she thought it wanted to show her something, but out of morbid curiosity — she wanted to see with her own eyes what creature it really was, and whether it was worth the chase.
A few minutes passed as they walked, until they found a narrow path, barely visible through the undergrowth. It didn’t seem like it had been used in a long time, which was a good sign. Without a word, they followed it.
Wednesday pulled out the GPS device, ready to test if it worked. She inspected it for a few seconds before turning it on. It let out a soft beep, and a green light blinked in one corner. The screen, though small, showed a black background and at the center, an arrow that, she assumed, marked her location. It moved as she did. There were also small numbers at the bottom, but she paid them no mind, unsure of their purpose.
She tilted her head, intrigued.
"Simple but effective" she murmured to herself.
She pressed one of the three buttons on the sides. The device switched views, now showing the estimated distance to the last fixed point registered: their campsite.
Wednesday nodded in satisfaction. It was useful.
Carefully, she stored the device in one of the inner pockets of her jacket, where it would be protected from whatever awaited them once they arrived.
"You already know how to use it?" Pugsley asked, having watched her curiously.
"Enough," she replied without taking her eyes off the path. "I’ll have time to discover its full capacity later."
Her brother smiled, convinced.
The path was simple, but not without its challenges. Protruding roots and steep areas seemed designed to trip the unwary, but they, used to hostile terrain, moved without trouble.
Finally, between two twisted trees, the silhouette of a rundown cabin appeared, hidden among the bushes as if trying not to be seen. Its windows were broken, the walls covered in moss, and the door hung from a rusted hinge that creaked miserably when pushed.
Bingo.
It had potential. It looked like it hadn’t been visited in a long time, ideal for exploring. So they went in.
Outside, the air smelled of dampness, wet earth, and something more subtle, more metallic… Wednesday wrinkled her nose slightly, recognizing the familiar scent: old blood and… fluids. She preferred not to dwell on it.
The inside wasn’t much better: old furniture covered in cobwebs, yellowed papers scattered across the floor, and an unnatural cold clinging to everything. They entered with steady steps, inspecting each detail with patience.
Walking in silence, each inspected in their own way: Fester checked drawers, maybe looking for a book or photograph. Pugsley focused more on the details, touching the walls and the texture of the furniture, as if trying to learn their story.
Wednesday, on the other hand, only observed.
She didn’t want to trigger a vision, at least not there, where she had no idea what kind of information it might reveal. She still wasn’t used to the stiffness it caused in her body, how it twisted her into unhealthy angles against her will.
And the pain. That damn headache that could drive her insane if it weren’t for her self-control. She still had much to learn, but that would come later, not in a house on the verge of collapsing.
She looked up at the ceiling, noticing the cobwebs decorating it, and it was then that her brother accidentally knocked over a small ceramic figurine that had been sitting on one of the wall shelves. As it hit the ground, a hollow sound echoed through the place. Definitely a metallic sound.
The three of them exchanged glances, they had all noticed the same thing. Without hesitation, Pugsley crouched down and gave a firm knock right where the figurine had landed.
Again, the same sound.
“I think there’s something down here. The wood is hollow and there’s something underneath,” he said, hitting it again to prove his point.
“Here.” Fester handed him a sharp dagger. Without thinking twice, he stabbed it into the floor, into a small gap between two wooden planks.
He did the same on both ends, applying enough pressure to pry it loose. After a few tries, he succeeded, carefully removing the wood and revealing what lay beneath.
A metal hatch.
“Do you always find useful things whenever you drop something?” Wednesday asked with a hint of amusement and wonder.
“Sometimes,” Pugsley replied with a shrug.
“Good job,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. He smiled, pleased with the compliment, but before he could say anything, their uncle interrupted. Fester quickly stepped in, inspecting the hatch. He crouched and, with a sharp knock, removed the other wooden piece, fully revealing the hatch.
“Well, looks like the fun continues,” he said simply, trying to open it with Pugsley’s help, who had also crouched down. When they finally got it open, they looked inside: an old metal ladder leading down into darkness.
“Who’s going down first?” Fester asked enthusiastically, as if choosing who’d try a poisoned cake first.
Wednesday stepped forward without hesitation, turning on her flashlight.
“I’ll go,” she said, making her way down.
She descended slowly down the ladder, which seemed ready to collapse but somehow held her weight. The descent wasn’t long, but the deeper she went, the colder and denser the air became. Without her flashlight, she doubted she could even see her own hands.
When she reached the bottom, her flashlight illuminated the place: a narrow corridor full of cockroaches and cobwebs covering almost every inch of the stone walls, damp and lined with cells on each side. She moved forward slowly, not wanting to miss a single detail.
“Anything interesting down there?” her uncle’s voice echoed from the stairs.
“You better hurry,” she responded firmly, not patient enough to wait. They obeyed, quickly descending and positioning themselves behind her, their flashlights lighting up even more of the dark space.
As they ventured further, she could better see what this strange basement was about. It was full of rusted cages, aged and decaying, some still had shackles hanging, others had twisted doors, as if whatever had been trapped there had tried to escape with ferocity.
Scratches marked the walls in various sizes and depths, clear signs they were unlikely to have been made by humans. They were claw marks—multiple lines, some overlapping. She also noticed dark stains splattered on the floor, and by their color, the seer deduced it was old blood.
Pugsley and Fester walked beside her in total silence, and their flashlights revealed more details: bones and chains.
Bones were scattered everywhere, and it was hard to tell whether they belonged to animals that had gotten trapped or something else entirely. Either way, whatever it was, it hadn’t had a good time.
“Look over there.” Her brother whispered, breaking the silence. His dust-covered finger pointed to a corner of the basement. Wednesday approached, slow but steady, shining her flashlight on the object lying there.
“I think it’s a journal,” Pugsley said, stopping next to her and crouching to pick it up carelessly, shaking off the dust in a small gray cloud. He flipped through the pages with curious fingers, inspecting it carefully. The notebook had damp, dirty pages, yet the content was strangely intact. “It belonged to someone who was here. How did they even have a journal?”
“When you’re locked up with no escape, your captors don’t care what you have in your hands,” Fester replied from afar, examining the pile of bones in one of the cages. “It’s not like a notebook could save you from your fate.”
His words, though spoken lightly, sank heavily into the atmosphere.
Wednesday looked away from the journal and toward the basement walls. Everything there seemed to whisper forgotten stories, an invitation.
She felt it then, very subtly, that familiar tingle at her fingertips: the prelude to a vision. A silent promise that the past was still there, trapped, waiting to be heard.
She pressed her lips together. She knew forcing a vision was risky, especially in a place like this, where the memories might be nothing but a chain of endless pain. But curiosity, her old companion, was already circling her thoughts, trying to convince her.
Should she take the risk?
The flashlight trembled slightly in her grip as she made a decision.
And with an impulse she could neither stop nor wanted to, Wednesday reached out toward the wall and brushed her fingertips against one of the deep scratches etched into the stone. The moment she did, her neck snapped backward, every muscle in her body tensed, and everything around her vanished.
Darkness was the first thing to envelop her, dense and oppressive, followed by a sharp ringing in her ears, as if all the air had been ripped from the basement. Then came the vision, harrowing and brutal.
Before her eyes, the basement came to life. Not as the abandoned place she had seen, but as a living hell. Cells filled with people screaming in unison, their cries echoing off the stones like an endless tide of pain.
She saw men and women, some with animal traits; claws, pronounced fangs, eyes shining with feral terror. They were naked or barely covered by filthy rags, their bodies marked with open wounds, burns, fresh scars.
Agents in bloodstained coats injected something into their veins, indifferent to the screams. Some prisoners thrashed about, pounding desperately on the bars until they bled, breaking their nails, knuckles, and teeth. Others barely moved, curled in corners like frightened children, their eyes glassy, their gazes lost.
The vision jumped from scene to scene like a broken film: a woman clawing at her own face in a frenzy of madness; a young man tearing at his chains with bloodied hands; an old wolf-man, more beast than human, letting out a final, desperate howl before collapsing lifeless.
The smell of blood, sweat, and fear was so vivid that Wednesday could taste it on her tongue. The walls, those same walls now reduced to ruins, vibrated with the echoes of suffering.
And then, everything collapsed.
The vision crumbled in a swirl of shadows, and Wednesday felt herself violently expelled from that memory.
She opened her eyes with a gasp, cold sweat running down the back of her neck. The flashlight was still in her hand, dimly lighting the empty cell. Her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as she withdrew her hand from the wall, as if she could still feel the screams vibrating against her skin.
Pugsley and Fester, who had been watching her silently, approached without saying a word. They both knew when it was best not to ask questions. Her brother pulled a water bottle from his backpack and handed it to her with a friendly smile.
Wednesday took a deep breath, forcing herself to regain her composure, to bury the nausea rising in her throat. This was not the time to give in. Not while those memories still breathed through the walls around her.
She accepted the bottle, sipping slowly.
“This place speaks for itself. The images only confirm it,” she said with a sigh, her breathing gradually evening out.
“Do you think we should take the journal?” Pugsley asked, looking at their uncle.
“I don’t see why not, but wrap it in something before putting it away,” Fester replied with a grin. “That’s enough exploring for now, how about we head back?”
Both siblings nodded. Pugsley pulled out a cloth bag and carefully wrapped the notebook to avoid damaging it, placing it in his backpack with the other items and making space. Once everything was packed, they walked back toward the stairs, not without casting one last beam of light over the place, as if trying to preserve the memory.
They climbed one by one, the steps creaking underfoot, threatening to give way. When they reached the surface inside the house, they were momentarily blinded by the light streaming through the broken windows.
Wednesday squinted, letting her eyes slowly adjust to the brightness. Her uncle replaced the hatch cover with the wooden panel, making it look as if nothing was there, and once everything was ready, they walked toward the large front door.
They walked more slowly this time, taking in the path that would lead them back to the camp. The seer pulled out the GPS device and handed it to her brother, saying nothing, but making it clear he would be guiding them this time.
She could have done it herself, but her body felt drained after the intense vision. Her neck was stiff as stone, denying her any range of motion, and her back was threatening to hunch in search of support. That was the reason she hated visions, but this time, she had no right to complain, she had touched what she knew she shouldn’t, purely on impulse.
So all that was left was to walk and wait until they reached the camp, where she would eat enough to silence her stomach and finally lie down until she regained some flexibility.
It felt humiliating to give in, to yield to her own body, but she also knew ignoring it would only make things worse, and she didn’t have the patience to deal with that. She was supposed to do her favorite activities at camp, so there was no good reason to spend most of her time there with her muscles turned to stone. So, she would give in, grudgingly.
The way back was silent at first. The singing birds and the crunch of dry leaves beneath their boots filled the air. She walked one step behind the other two, allowing her mind to slowly drift back to the present. Every sound, every detail of the forest vibrated with an intensity that starkly contrasted with the basement they had explored.
Minutes later, Pugsley announced they were close, quickening his pace until he spotted the RV through the trees.
“Nothing works up an appetite like a good expedition,” Fester joked, giving his stomach an exaggerated pat.
Pugsley laughed out loud, running behind the vehicle and pulling out extra firewood he had gathered the day before. He placed it skillfully where the fire pit was, arranging it for easy lighting.
Wednesday said nothing, sitting on one of the logs they used as chairs, her gaze settling on the lake, which rippled calmly under the bright sun high in the sky.
"Before we leave, I set some traps in the water. I'll go see how many fish I managed to catch," said the bald man, pointing to the lake. "In the meantime, you can prepare your stomachs."
Fester uncovered an improvised cooler they had and pulled out some provisions: thick bread, dried meat, some strangely intact fruits, and a wheel of cheese.
The siblings sat around the fire, letting the forest's calmness envelop them. Pugsley was absentmindedly chewing a piece of bread with cheese in one hand and strips of dried meat in the other. The seer, on the other hand, had chosen some fruit: a disgustingly sweet peach, but at that moment, it was the only thing that appealed to her.
A while later, Uncle Fester returned with several gutted fish in a bucket, ready to be cooked over the fire. Wednesday thanked him silently, not really in the mood to get up.
Her mind kept going back to the memory of the basement, replaying the screams and wails that had taken place in some unknown time. She could feel the despair of those people, the fear in their eyes.
She then thought about the men in white coats who appeared in the vision, injecting a thick liquid into the prisoners’ veins without any care.
Some sort of experiment, maybe? She knew that in the past, such practices were common. Hundreds of people would disappear each year, and they were most likely held captive for that kind of activity.
She remembered the physical features of those present: fangs, claws… excessive body hair. Everything pointed to one particular species.
Wolves. The captives were werewolves.
But why? Or for what exactly?
She wondered what kind of practice would require the use of wolves. She had no idea, it didn’t make much sense. Werewolves were highly tolerant to most existing drugs; their physiology made them almost immune, even in high doses. And even if there were any effect, it would last only minutes, as their fast metabolism eliminated it without trouble.
But her head was too tired to keep thinking about all that, so she decided to leave it for when she returned to the mansion. There, she could dedicate the necessary time to her hypotheses.
"Tonight's a full moon, and I know the perfect place to see it," Fester announced, breaking the silence that had settled among them as they finished lunch. They had eaten calmly, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Will we see werewolves?" asked Pugsley, with a gleam of childish excitement in his eyes. He had always wanted to see one in its animal form, but there weren’t many opportunities for that near the Addams mansion.
"Exactly!" Fester let out a short laugh. "The Pine Barrens are full of small packs, but there's one in particular, quite large, that always uses this forest during full moons. It'll be quite a show."
Wednesday said nothing, but a slight arch of her eyebrow was enough to show she didn’t dislike the idea. Still, there were several hours left until nightfall.
"Until then, we’ve got time to spare." Fester stretched, letting a crack escape from his joints. "What do you say? Shall we relax a bit?"
Without waiting for an answer, he took off his shirt and jumped into the nearby lake, splashing water in all directions. The man seemed to have no idea how to swim, but that didn’t stop him, the sound of frantic splashing filled the air.
Pugsley was quick to follow, letting out a laugh and running to the shore to dive in as well. The summer afternoon was warm, almost stifling, so it made perfect sense… to them.
Wednesday, however, stayed in place, watching them with an impassive expression. The water didn’t tempt her, not when her body was still recovering from the strain of the vision. Her muscles were still tense, rigid as if she had spent hours holding a heavy weight. A dull ache ran through her back and arms, leaving her more exhausted than she was willing to admit out loud.
So she took advantage of the distraction and lay down on a blanket spread near the fire. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but she didn’t care—she just needed a few moments to steady herself. She closed her eyes, listening to the echo of her uncle’s and brother’s laughter mixed with the splashing of water.
She didn’t know when it happened, but she drifted into deep sleep, taking with her every trace of stress and tension her body had held.
[...]
She opened her eyes slowly, not knowing exactly how much time had passed.
The only thing she knew was that, upon moving her limbs a little, they had already regained their usual flexibility. Sitting up slowly, she looked around and noticed that the sun was still out, but with a softer, more tolerable glow.
She saw her brother in the distance, among the tall trees, apparently focused on his task, as he didn’t notice the intense stare the dark-haired girl had given him. Behind him was their uncle, helping with whatever it was they were doing. If it took two of them, it had to be interesting.
Letting out a sigh, she stood up and stretched her muscles. She walked over to the camper, specifically to the makeshift cooler inside. She opened it and pulled out a piece of dried meat along with some cheese that had already been cut into cubes.
With her energy back, her appetite had also returned, and without giving it much thought, she brought the food to her mouth, chewing lazily.
Sitting on one of the logs, an idea lit up in her mind: her notebook.
Not the one they had found in the grim basement a few miles away, no. Her own notebook, where she used to write down all kinds of observations, from completed experiments to those still pending, or sometimes just fleeting thoughts and theories that occurred to her in moments of idleness.
She thought about writing down her vision, considering the memories were still fresh in her mind. She could get it all on paper and analyze the details later.
She didn’t question it much, so she got up and went to her backpack inside the vehicle. She returned to her spot by the fire and, with methodical movements, began to write.
Her handwriting was firm, angular, as if the words were tiny daggers carving into the paper. She recorded every fragment she remembered from the vision: the screams, the rusted cages, the scratch marks on the walls, the faces twisted in pain and fear. She tried to capture everything in great detail, knowing that attempting to illustrate it would be useless due to her clumsy artistic skills.
She left nothing out, wanting to capture the memories while they were still vivid, before the mind could dull or distort them to make them bearable. She wanted to preserve the rawness of the experience, to study it later, to understand it… or maybe just to ensure she wouldn't forget what she had felt down there.
When she finished, she closed the notebook and put it away carefully. The act left her with a strange sense of relief, as if part of the burden had been transferred to the paper. She definitely considered doing it again if she ever had another vision, so she wouldn’t have to doubt her own judgment after time passed and she was forced to relive the memories of her older visions.
She got up and walked toward the source of the voices, looking for some kind of distraction, no matter how useless.
Hours passed like this until it was time for dinner. Pugsley appeared triumphantly, carrying a small cloth bag containing the squirrels he had caught using improvised traps.
“We’re having roasted squirrel tonight,” he announced proudly.
Wednesday didn’t show much enthusiasm but accepted her portion without comment. The fire crackled as the squirrels cooked, releasing a toasted scent that, despite everything, was pleasant. They ate between nonsensical anecdotes and bursts of laughter, setting the mood for the real activity that was still to come.
As Fester had said, they would go to a lookout at the highest point of the forest, where they could clearly see the full moon and the beasts it called.
They got ready quickly, storing everything inside the camper to avoid accidents or unwanted theft. Lycans in their animal form were very curious creatures, often sticking their snouts where they didn’t belong. So they had to be cautious.
With everything ready, the siblings followed their uncle through the forest, while the last rays of sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees around them.
Wednesday walked in the back, with a confident stride and a face like a serene mask. But inside, a small spark of excitement throbbed in her chest, eager for the new experience.
After about thirty minutes of hiking uphill, they reached a small clearing: a natural cliff overlooking a vast stretch of dark forest, dimly lit by the final moments of daylight.
“This is the best lookout there is,” Fester whispered, kneeling behind some rocks to remain out of sight. “In a few hours, we’ll see them.”
Wednesday positioned herself beside her uncle, with Pugsley on her other side. The air was heavy with moisture and the faint scent of fresh earth. They sat there, waiting patiently.
And just as her uncle had predicted, a couple of hours passed, and their eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, managed to distinguish movement among the distant trees. The seer adjusted her posture, gripping her binoculars firmly, turning her gaze back to the vegetation.
First came a flash: a swift figure darting through the shadows. Then, more appeared, a group of large, muscular silhouettes with varied fur, moving in perfect sync under the silvery light.
The werewolves had finally made their appearance on that starry night.
No one spoke, as if any sound from their mouths might scare off the beasts that had taken control of the forest, claiming their dominion.
Wednesday watched intently, missing no detail, her eyes almost glowing with an emotion she would never allow to show on her face. A part of her, buried deep within, felt a pang of something resembling admiration.
And it was impossible not to think of Enid.
How was her roommate doing? Had she managed to transform this time? Had she felt afraid, or perhaps euphoric, when letting her wolf out?
What animal had she set out to hunt?
A deer, maybe, or perhaps a wild boar, one of those elusive ones that made the hunt more fun. And if her siblings had confirmed their suspicions, she would have to kill a bear. A big one, worthy of being mounted as a trophy in their shared room at Nevermore, Wednesday thought with a half-smile she quickly hid behind her usual serious expression.
The wind shifted, bringing with it a chorus of howls that shook the entire forest. The sound echoed through her bones, so raw and real that even she, with all her emotional resistance, felt a faint shiver on her skin.
The wolves, dozens of them, began running among the trees. From above, they were a breathtaking sight: a pack in perfect harmony, like a force of nature impossible to stop.
"And the night is still young," her uncle whispered, his voice thick with emotion, handing the binoculars back to Pugsley, who was smiling beside him.
The wolves spread out again with a kind of solemn purpose. The larger ones moved calmly, sniffing the ground, marking invisible territories, leaving signs for their kin. Some approached one another, rubbing their bodies in a gesture of recognition, their tails raised and vibrant, swaying in slow arcs of authority or affection.
The younger ones, in contrast, couldn’t hold back their wild energy. They chased each other in circles, growling playfully, tangling in short, playful skirmishes. They exchanged controlled bites to the neck or legs, rolling on the ground in a blend of mock aggression and sheer fun. Each time one fell on its back, another would leap on top, nibbling ears or paws in a dance as ancient as the moon itself.
One of the wolves, dark-furred with silvery highlights, sat in the center of the clearing and let out a long, resonant howl toward the star-filled sky. Slowly, one by one, the others joined in the call, and the night filled with an ancestral symphony.
And so the hours slipped away into the vastness of the night, as the sky, very slowly, began to turn a pale blue with the arrival of dawn. The wolves had retreated some time ago, slipping once more between the trees until they vanished like ghosts, leaving behind a forest cloaked in an almost reverent silence, broken only by the distant murmurs of crickets hidden in the underbrush.
It was then, breaking the enchantment of the early morning, that Fester spoke for the first time in hours, his voice rough yet warm, floating in the still air.
“What did you think of the show?” he asked, turning to them with a spark of satisfaction in his eyes.
Wednesday didn’t need time to form a response. After witnessing something so raw, so pure, so savagely, only one word came to her mind.
“Perfect.”