Chapter Text

Chapter One: Gertrude Hall

In which Wednesday Addams move into her new university accommodation

The eldest daughter of the eccentric Addams family, and recent alumnus of Nevermore Academy, would rather move into a morgue basement than acclimatise to a new roommate. Well, she would choose the chill metal of a coroner’s corpse storage over most beds, and the mingled atmosphere of formaldehyde and sanitiser and decay was particularly effective at lulling her to sleep. But the point still stood. Wednesday Addams did not want a new roommate.

Adjusting to one Enid Sinclair had almost been the death of her when Wednesday had first been transferred to Nevermore. Admittedly, Enid had then also been the reason (several times over) why Wednesday had ultimately avoided death. While conceptually this may have in some parts of Wednesday’s mind felt like an experience that Enid had stolen from her, she conceded that being alive to continue to experience the thrill of possible and impending but not actual death was preferable. Not to mention the fact that, over their several years rooming together, Wednesday thought that she had admirably grown as a person (not literally, but don’t point that out) and come to… tolerate Enid. Any more growth than that would’ve caused Wednesday to have said growth cut out from her flesh in an act of unanaesthetised vivisection. But allowing just one person into her cold, barely beating heart was acceptable, if only because it meant that Wednesday had the luxury of not just committing murder for herself, but choosing to do so for the sake of another worthy soul.

Of course, the torture of the American education system, even for outcasts, did not care that Wednesday had adjusted to a life with this particular roommate, when it spat her out the other end of high school and demanded that she find some new purpose and routine with which to fill the passage of time. Unlike physical torture at the hands of a skilled practitioner, perhaps in her family home’s ancient dungeon, the practical and administrative nature of this particular type of torture was not something that Wednesday enjoyed. Oh, she certainly appreciated just how efficiently and effectively educational institutes could tear a child apart and leave them in tears. Wednesday herself had simply experienced more than enough inconvenience from the teachers and other staff at Nevermore to ever wish to be weighed down by them again.

What was her alternative, though? Permanently return to her family home and live off their hoarded wealth and grow bored with every passing year? Find a partner and start a sickeningly mundane nuclear family of her own? Seek out immediate employment while she was only eighteen? Sure, some options presented themselves on that third option: Apprentice Serial Killer; Cemetery Night Guard; Mafia Thug. But all of those felt like settling for something beneath her, when Wednesday wanted to be the very best (that is, Master Serial Killer, Cemetery Mogul, or Mafia Boss). A classical education, including a course of study that included literature, chemistry, and an extracurricular in yet another martial art, seemed like the best way forward.

Unfortunately, there was no such thing as an outcast university. And, though each public or private university for normies provided its own uniquely torturous educational and social experience, Wednesday didn’t much care for the way in which American colleges vied for their status. If she’d been able to go to Oxford or Cambridge… Well, the graves there were much older, and the architecture legitimately gothic or even older, so Wednesday may have been willing to deal with the process of moving to England. But they hadn’t liked her application letters, responding with something along the lines of:

Dear Miss Addams,

Despite admiring your creativity and passion in assembling your application, the implication of potentially psychotic and violent tendencies that your anecdotes display, blah blah blah…

Therefore, we regret to inform you that Oxbridge will not be offering you a position this year. We wish you the best of luck with your applications elsewhere.

Signed with great snobbery and closed-mindedness,

The Committee of Stuffy Old White Men.

By comparison, at least the American universities were crooked enough to accept almost anything in an application letter if it smelled like old money. And Wednesday knew that, in addition to the sizeable donation that accompanied her application to her school of choice, the recipients would be drooling over the expensive, creamy paper and crisp, typewritten text of her letter. The university had a decent reputation, but not being one of the wealthiest in the country, the promise of a student like Wednesday—with perfect grades and even more perfect bank accounts—was not something that they would turn down even if she had chosen ‘the time that I let myself be kidnapped by a serial killer and turned the tables on him’ as her story of preparing for a challenging situation and overcoming adversity.

The main reason for settling on this particular college, however, was a lot simpler. Not that Wednesday would admit it to anyone, and therefore had not even informed her parents. (“I threw a sharpened fingerbone at a map and that’s just where it landed,” she had claimed.) No, it was simply that Enid had enrolled in this school, and Wednesday needed at least one non-stranger around to help her carry bodies or act as lookout when she inevitably grew bored with her tedious classes and needed to fill her nights with something more appealing. Maybe she would’ve settled for continuing to rope Pugsley into doing her dirty work, but he still had several more years before graduating from Nevermore, and unlike Wednesday did not have sufficient brainpower for her to trust that he’ll actually graduate on time, let alone early.

Lurch pulled the family hearse into the university grounds, right up to the front door of Wednesday’s new dormitory. Gertrude Hall. Luckily, the very closest parking spot had been reserved especially for them with several hideously orange road cones and a sign over a manhole that read ‘workers below, do not obstruct.’ As she had at Nevermore Academy, Wednesday’s belongings were limited. Two black suitcases, her cello, her typewriter, and little else besides. If the furniture in the room wasn’t sufficiently bleak and deteriorated, Wednesday could always enlist Enid and her werewolf strength to lug something back from an antique store or a condemned house.

The room that Wednesday had been allocated—after a persuasive phone call outlining her specific needs and just how much she didn’t care if those spaces had already been assigned to other students—was on the top floor of Gertude Hall. The balcony was smaller than the one in Ophelia Hall, but large enough for Wednesday to sit with her cello and practice late into the night. As with her room before, this too required Wednesday to tolerate the presence of another human being. (And maybe even an actual normie human this time.) But she was confident that, given a few weeks, the school administration would agree that it was best to just leave Wednesday to her own devices and not replace the roommate who she would inevitably cause to drop out and run home in terror.

As of yet, said temporary roommate appeared to have not moved in. No other suitcases or evidence of life was present in the room, other than some detritus that appeared to have been left from a previous occupant. Unless the sum total of her new roommate’s belongings were some candy wrappers and a dirty sock and half of a poster. At least that would be slightly less offensive to the eye than Enid’s nauseating display of colour. (Wednesday’s breath did not hitch slightly at the idea of never waking up to Enid’s fairy lights and plushies ever again.)

This had been the plan. Arrive early, claim her space, start her relationship with her new roommate on the right terms: A cold, threatening stare and a declaration of the fatal consequences of disturbing Wednesday’s personal space. Though things had worked out with Enid in the end, Wednesday still felt that they would’ve gotten off to a much more transparent and understanding start had Wednesday not been required to carve out space for herself in pink-hued enemy territory. Not being a transfer student this time, Wednesday was able to lay down the law and assert her authoritative intentions from day one.

The difficult part now, however, was that Wednesday had to sit and wait for her unknown opponent to show up. And that could take all day. Leaving and finding something else to do wasn’t an option, because she was not willing to risk an entitled and obnoxious individual arriving in her absence and messing with her things. Never leave your borders unprotected.

Lurch, not being much of a talker, nodded farewell shortly after depositing Wednesday’s things just inside the door. Just to make sure that he hadn’t been instructed by one of her parents to stick around, spy, and report back, Wednesday watched from the balcony until the black hearse pulled away from the curb and drove out of sight. A helmeted head pushed through the manhole below where Lurch had parked, belonging to a man who clawed his way out of the sewer and lay prostrate on the asphalt, panic in his eyes. A reasonable omen, Wednesday felt, though news of a corpse turning up in the sewers the following day would perhaps have been better.

“Alright, out you come,” Wednesday called, when she was sure that Lurch was not returning.

A severed hand with perfectly moisturised skin and clipped cuticles wriggled out from Wednesday’s backpack, signing, I’ve already been to college, please tell me why you’ve dragged me back?

“Thing, you proved yourself invaluable as an asset in my investigations at Nevermore,” said Wednesday. “I could not imagine going through the experience of college without you.”

Twisting the truth to flatter me will not work, Thing signed.

“I’ll buy you a new hand lotion,” Wednesday offered.

Bribery is good, but not enough. I’ve got an entire manicure setup back home…

Wednesday sighed, knowing that she had the ultimate card to play, but hadn’t entirely intended to use it straight away. But Lurch was gone now, and she knew that Thing would be loyal (or, loyal enough). So she said, “Well, Enid is going to be attending this school too.”

Thing’s signing was a flurry of excited gestures, most of which either weren’t real words or were too fast for even Wednesday to follow. But she got the gist.

You never told Gomez or Morticia, he pointed out.

“What reason had I? It’s none of their business.”

They might’ve insisted on coming along to drop you off, so that they could say hello to Enid.

“All the more reason to keep them in the dark. I do not need their coddling, nor do I wish to see them fawn over my acquaintance who, despite her atrocious colour preferences, they seem to appreciate more than they appreciate me.”

I wasn’t under the impression that you wanted to be appreciated, Thing signed. But I was under the impression that Enid was your ‘friend.’

“You’re being awfully frank and offensive for a hand with plenty of extraneous fingers, Thing,” said Wednesday.

And you’re being awfully rude to Enid after all you went through together, Thing responded. However, he made a point of shuffling further back from Wednesday.

Wednesday didn’t press the matter. Just because Enid had maybe earned the title of friend didn’t mean that she had therefore lost the title of acquaintance. Wednesday was still acquainted with Enid, was she not? It was all semantics, and she wasn’t going to argue semantics with a bundle of fingers, no matter how uniquely articulate.

Scurrying off to make himself busy, and therefore scarce, Thing left Wednesday to continue to wait for her impending (if impermanent) doom. Thing knew to be even more cautious here than at Nevermore, with how many normies were around, but Wednesday also expected that he wouldn’t go too far just yet. Finding his escape routes and secluded listening spots, no doubt.

For better or worse, Wednesday did not end up with only the company of her own thoughts for very long. She set up her typewriter, made her bed with her void-black sheets, and had barely made a start on unpacking her clothes before a knock came at the door.

“Enter,” Wednesday called. Better to get this over with.

A thin young woman with light brown hair cautiously opened the door, which creaked as it swung. She peered inside, eyes going wide as she met Wednesday’s gaze.

“You must be my new roommate,” Wednesday said, rising to her feet. She did not extend a hand in greeting. “Let me make myself clear before you take another step. You will respect my space and follow the instructions that I set for you, if you wish this experience to be painless. But my standards are high, so set your expectations now. The likelihood of you surviving long is minimal, so don’t get too comfortable.”

The girl merely continued to stare at Wednesday, frozen in shock. Wednesday held her eye contact, face impassive but knowing that her murderous intensity was shining through regardless.

Eventually, the girl managed to say, “Oh, umm… sorry, I’ll be gone soon. I’m so sorry, Miss…? You know what, never mind. I’m just here to bring…”

Trailing off, Wednesday heard a second voice whisper something, which the girl took as permission to duck back out of the doorway and flee down the stairs. The second voice spoke up a little louder, as its owner pushed the door all the way open. It said, “I’d know the sound of those threats of violence anywhere!”

Wednesday knew this voice. “Enid?”

“Surprise!” shouted Enid Sinclair, bursting into the room. She rushed right up to Wednesday, skidding slightly as she came to a stop just before entering the most dangerous inner circle of Wednesday’s personal bubble. The twitch in Enid’s wrists clearly betrayed her difficulty in holding back from hugging Wednesday.

“But how…” Wednesday began.

“The RA sent an email to me and one or two other outcasts starting this year, after receiving a phone call from a certain someone demanding the top room with the balcony. Honestly, Wends, he sounded scared for his life. Apparently, he didn’t feel safe only shunting one of the existing students out of here, and leaving the other to fend for herself. I didn’t even need him to confirm your name to know exactly who the new occupant would be. So I put my hand up for the spot before anyone else could reply. I mean, what are the chances? But, only if that’s okay… If rooming with me at Nevermore was too much… I guess I was just so excited that, maybe—” said Enid, then she cut herself off.

Though the spiel that had just vomited from Enid’s mouth left Wednesday a little dizzy, underneath all of that, she felt nothing but immense relief. The other half of her room would be distressingly pink again, but what if she’d had to adjust to someone who liked a different awful colour, or a different kind of awful music?

Taking half a step forward, Wednesday let her head fall forward until it landed with a thunk on Enid’s shoulder. Wednesday let out a long, exhausted sigh. It definitely wasn’t a hug, but it was an admission of welcome and gratitude, to the small extent that Wednesday could ever summon such emotions.

“Ow, Wends,” Enid protested at what was effectively a headbutt. Then she let out a squee, which instantly brought on a sharp pain in Wednesday’s skull. Luckily, Wednesday enjoyed a good headache every now and then. Enid continued, “But I’ll take that as a good sign. God, Wends, I’m so happy that we get to still be roomies!”

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Reacquaintance

In which Wednesday and Enid adjust to sharing a home... again

“Enid, I have to say, I am a bit annoyed at all of this,” Wednesday said, cutting into what had been an otherwise comfortable silence.

The two of them had been carrying Enid’s frankly obscene number of possessions up the five flights of stairs in Gertrude Hall, from her car that was parked a little way down the street. Despite Wednesday’s suggestion, Enid hadn’t been willing to move her car to the convenient spot right outside where Lurch had pulled up. Unfortunately, Enid had arrived on her own, her somewhat beat-up vehicle laden with boxes and suitcases and otherwise piles of stuff. No rowdy werewolf siblings to do the hard labour for them. Fortunately, that also meant no Esther Sinclair. Wednesday would have to ask how Enid managed that small miracle later, but for now, she was a little out of breath, and had another grievance to air.

“When are you not?” Enid shot back.

“My tolerance for you has apparently increased beyond my tolerance for all other humans, but even it has a limit,” said Wednesday.

“Wends, everything you’ve just been carrying is stuff that you put up with for years at Nevermore. Don’t start complaining about it now!”

“I never stopped complaining about it then,” Wednesday pointed out. But she sighed, and pushed any further comments on the topic of Enid’s material obsessions aside. “However, I am frustrated about something else. You see, I had a perfectly good speech prepared, and a roll of tape for the floor, and have pre-typed up a list of rules that I planned to plaster around the room.”

Enid broke out in an undignified laugh. “Of course you did.”

“What a waste,” said Wednesday, though there wasn’t really any fire in her retort.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, we can go through your rules anyway?” Enid offered, sitting down on the side of her bed and facing Wednesday with her full attention. There was a slightly smug, infuriating shine behind her eyes.

“Okay, you asked for it,” Wednesday said.

Sifting through the contents of her backpack, Wednesday pulled out a typewritten sheet of thick paper, and began to read:

“‘The Roommate must always respect the sanctity of sides, and not cross the border marked on the floor’.”

“Well, unless you want to put the tape back, I don’t see a border?”

“Fine, we can let that one slide. ‘The Roommate must maintain a neutral and unobtrusive colour palette in their choice of décor’.”

“Bit late for that…”

“‘The Roommate will not play music that has not previously been vetted and approved’.”

At that, Enid pulled out her phone and hit something on the screen. A moment later, a pinging sound echoed out from her portable speaker, and then a song that Wednesday understood to be something called ‘k-pop’ blared through the room.

“‘The Roommate…’” Wednesday began again.

“Is your whole list basically ‘the Roommate should not act like Enid’?” asked Enid, giving Wednesday an offended look but not managing to hide the amusement in her voice.

“I—no, of course not,” said Wednesday.

“Then let me see the list.”

“I think it would be better if you didn’t.”

“In that case,” said Enid. “I’m going to assume that you only wrote all of those things because you couldn’t bear having to be reminded of me by someone else, because you knew you’d miss me.”

“I find your companionship tolerable, and the familiarity of your presence is preferred to the uncertainty of an unknown interloper,” said Wednesday.

“Aww, I missed you too.”

“Enid, I’m going to say this once,” said Wednesday. “So listen closely, as you won’t hear it again”—a breath—“I tracked you for two weeks across the Canadian border, brought you back to New Jersey to my ancestral home, and conjured dark and ancient magic to return you to human form. One of the spells that I tried left me blind for three days. I have a black mark on one arm that smells like sulphur and will not disappear, whether by scrubbing or surgical removal. Some of my clothes still smell like wolf, despite being laundered daily for months. Not only that, but I continued to put up with you for another whole school year after that.”

“Yes,” said Enid. A self-satisfied smile threatened to break out on her face. “I was there. So…”

“So, do not presume for a moment that I did not miss you, but do not expect me to say it again. I shouldn’t have to.”

“You’re such a softie,” Enid giggled.

“I will turn you back into a wolf,” threatened Wednesday.

“You told me in those dark Canadian woods that you liked my wolf, and would stay my friend even if I could never change back.”

“That was between me and your wolf. How dare you have eavesdropped on our private conversation.”

Enid merely grinned back at Wednesday. She received a scowl in return.

They continued to potter for the next hour or so, Enid arranging her soft toys and installing her latest posters on the wall. Wednesday made sure that her things were perfectly parallel, but that only took a few minutes, before she spent the rest of the time supervising Enid and pointing out where her hanging lights were crooked or her clothes weren’t folded properly.

The dormitory room was simultaneously more and less drear than Ophelia Hall had been. It was slightly more modern, with clearer lighting and fewer cracks through which drafts could howl. But it therefore lacked some of the charm, and definitely the architectural novelty, of their old quarters. At least this space had a private bathroom, though the pressure of the water at Nevermore had been better, despite the antique plumbing. By the time that all of Wednesday’s furniture and possessions were squared away (literally), and Enid had spread her pink and rainbow disease across every surface on her side of the room, the underlying bones barely mattered. The strange sense of balance in their otherwise objective unbalanced décor put Wednesday’s mind at ease, the familiarity of the chaos infinitely preferable to change.

Once finished, or at least as much as they would bother that day, Enid asked, “So, spotted any good spots for food yet?”

“I only got here this morning, Enid,” Wednesday replied.

“Still, you love to explore.”

“I choose to spend my time ensuring that the room knew who was in charge, and ensuring that my new roommate wouldn’t turn up unannounced and attempt to overthrow my authority.”

“And yet she did anyway,” Enid said with a wink.

“It would seem so. I noticed a string of shops with some decidedly average and unhealthy looking food vendors when Lurch drove us through town, but I figured that we’d just use the cafeteria,” said Wednesday.

“Yeah, um, it doesn’t start serving students until classes start,” Enid replied.

“Then what are we supposed to eat for dinner?”

“That’s why I was asking. How about… a pizza picnic on the dorm floor? I’m sure the town will have a pizza joint.”

“Sounds awful,” said Wednesday. “We could drown ourselves internally with the quantity of grease and cheese we consume.”

“Coming from you, that sounds entirely complimentary to pizza,” said Enid.

“There is a certain horrific quality to the modern fast food industry,” Wednesday conceded. “I suppose I could indulge.”

“Yay! There was never any good pizza near Nevermore. This is so exciting.”

“It’s dreadful.”

“You’re dreadful.”

Wednesday sighed, but couldn’t help but feel the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “I’ve already said yes. Flattery won’t earn you anything.”

The closest pizza restaurant ended up being a twenty-five minute walk, which meant an hour there and back including the wait, but it was a good chance for Wednesday to scope the neighbourhood. Enid had been right about that, at least: exploration and mentally mapping her surroundings was an important activity for Wednesday whenever she arrived in a new place. And the night was dreadfully warm, but with a disgusting crispness to the slight breeze and a blindingly orange sunset over the nearby hills, so Wednesday supposed that walking for the better part of an hour with Enid through the drearily clear weather was acceptable.

Enid had ordered a large, double-cheese, deep-dish pizza with five different kinds of meat, spinach, pineapple, potato wedges, barbecue sauce swirl, mayonnaise swirl, and chilli sauce swirl, and had added rainbow sprinkles from the condiment section of the dessert bar. Wednesday bought a thin-crust margherita with black olives, anchovies, and capers, cooked for extra time until all of the toppings just started to go black. Somehow, despite the monstrosity that Enid had ordered, Wednesday got the stranger look from the teenager at the cash register out of the two of them.

They ate in comfortable silence on the floor of their room. Wednesday knew that, with time, Enid would itch for a greater degree of socialisation to go along with her meals, but it was pleasant for now to have their dinner without being interrupted or observed. Though Wednesday did admit that it was odd to be here with Enid like this, without Agnes or Eugene, or even Ajax or Bianca or Yoko or Divina. The former two she could manage in controlled doses, and the latter four were occasionally tolerable if only because Enid didn’t mind their company. The statistical likelihood of encountering another six people who didn’t immediately drive her to murder felt vanishingly small.

Oh well, that was a problem for future-Wednesday. The vetting and rejection of potential social candidates could wait, rather than eating into the time in which Wednesday still had Enid all to herself. (Not that Wednesday wanted Enid to herself, just… she knew her limits, and didn’t want to be burdened with additional acquaintances. Yes, that was it.

“So, Enid,” Wednesday said.

The girl across from her looked up with a wide grin, mouth still stuffed with pizza. “Yeph?”

“We have identified lodgings, and now nutrition. Scant as the actual nutritional value might be. Upon completion of this meal, would you accompany me to scout the further key locations of which one should always be aware?”

“It’s pretty dark by now, Wends,” Enid pointed out.

“Yes, but the moon is bright and the dead of night is the ideal time to explore the local graveyards,” said Wednesday.

“God, really? You couldn’t have meant, like, the campus common spaces or the student lounge or a late-night café?”

“The shudder that you express at my suggestion is reciprocated by myself at yours.”

“Look, I knew this is what I was signing up for. More murder and chaos. But I think our implicit deal from Nevermore still stands. We’ll do you things, if we can also do me things,” Enid said, giving Wednesday a firm stare.

“An implicit deal is not, by definition, a deal,” Wednesday argued.

“Oh, then I suppose our implicit deal to not borrow each other’s soap and hair products isn’t a deal?”

Wednesday felt a literal growl rise in her throat.

In response, Enid merely giggled. “Honestly, maybe you should be the wolf. But fair is fair. Let’s go find a graveyard, but only if we sniff out a diner or café on the way, to get me a warm drink to cradle.”

“Acceptable compromise. I do require strong caffeine on a regular basis, as straight arsenic does not on its own make the most appealing beverage. It requires a base, and I require supplementary energy sources.”

When, following her first year at Nevermore, Xavier Thorpe had tried to give Wednesday a cellphone, she had gone to the trouble of lugging it back home, but only so that she and Pugsley could throw it into a nearby lake while they went fishing. Unlike their impressive catch, the grenade explosion did not cause the device to rise to the surface along with a dozen or more fish corpses. But Wednesday supposed that dead and sunk was just as good of an outcome.

At the end of the following year, however, another cellphone found its way in the mail to the Addams’ residence. Wednesday had an immediate urge to go fishing again, but had at least done the polite thing of opening the card first:

Howdy, Roomie!

So, I know you ‘misplaced’ the last one, but I’d love to keep in touch over the summer. I mean, we all would. Everyone pitched in, so please take care of this one, yeah?

All of our numbers are loaded into your contacts.

XOXO

Enid

(And Agnes, Eugene, Bianca, Yoko, Divina)

Unfortunately, knowing that Enid was not in the greatest financial situation for Wednesday to reject such a gift, and discovering that a cellphone opened up a whole new world of ‘online stalking,’ Wednesday had kept this one. She did not know what the exes and ohs meant, but deduced that they represented something fond along the lines of ‘quartered’ and ‘hung,’ though usually the phrase went ‘hung’ and then ‘quartered.’

As they exited Gertrude Hall, Enid had already found several possible coffee spots nearby, while Wednesday was still hunting for the closest cemetery. Being in a slightly larger town, it turned out that there was more than one. Other than her family home, Wednesday had not lived within range of more than a single cemetery before. (Though, admittedly, Nevermore was the only other place that she had lived, and there was plenty of excitement at its one cemetery). It was a thrilling prospect. And, conveniently, one of the cafés was directly on their route.

The café itself was a little run down, staffed by a single middle-aged woman who gave all of her customers the same blank stare. Wednesday approved, and took note of this as a safe, emotion-free zone if she ever needed a mental break from all of the energetic students with whom she would no doubt soon be surrounded. That was another reason for arriving several days before class. A good portion of the student body wouldn’t arrive until the last minute, giving Wednesday further time to scout the area and stake her claims. Otherwise, she’d be staking hearts instead. Though classically a method for handling vampires, it worked on mortals just as well.

Armed with coffee, despite the late hour—for Enid, a double-shot, salted-caramel, matcha latte with whipped cream; for Wednesday, a quad-shot over ice—Wednesday guided them toward the garden park that housed the local dead, following the green line and little blue dot on her screen. Next to Wednesday’s own dot was a second, this one yellow, that had over summer been miles away but now followed the blue dot’s every move. This was not something that Enid needed to know about anytime soon.

They arrived at the cemetery as the moon hung overhead, only partially full (but that was probably for the best with a werewolf in tow), but providing ample light. Wednesday was acclimated to dark dealings, and Enid had enhanced vision, while the night otherwise kept them obscured from any normies about.

“I mean, still spooky, but almost kind of sweet,” Enid said, as they walked out into the full clearing dotted with graves, having wound for the last few minutes along a concrete path through some sparse trees.

“All of the headstones are so… contemporary and clean,” Wednesday said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

“It’s a nice change from the vibe of Nevermore’s graveyard, which practically screamed at you that something ghoulish was bound to happen.”

“At least it was honest,” said Wednesday.

She strode forward, trusting that Enid would follow. Scanning the names on the graves, nothing in particular stood out. The majority were elderly people who had died in the last thirty years or less, and whether or not they had complications in the end, it was unlikely that any of them really died of anything other than old age and the various ailments that accompanied it. How boring.

Toward the centre of the main portion of the cemetery, however, Wednesday did spot something that, though she couldn’t yet tell why, caught her interest. Something akin to an electrical spark shot down her spine, starting at the back of her neck. The sensation could’ve just been random, but in a place like this, it was almost certainly connected to her psychic abilities. These had slowly returned over her final year at Nevermore, but never to the full power that Wednesday had wrung out of her visions after studying Goody’s book. Even with Aunt Ophelia’s diary to guide her, and Weems having helped her break down the first barriers to re-obtaining her powers, visions came few and far between. And they were rarely of anything of substance. Mere flashes of possibility that told Wednesday nothing.

“Enid,” Wednesday called over her shoulder with a harsh whisper.

“Sup?” came Enid’s reply.

“I don’t know what that means, and please keep your voice down. Do you see that grave, over there?” Wednesday gestured toward a headstone that looked almost brand new, the earth in front of it still to be reclaimed by the surrounding grass.

“Yeah?” said Enid, trying to whisper back.

“It calls to me.”

“Then it’s probably the last place we should go…” Enid replied. But then she sighed, and said, “Which means it’s exactly where we’re headed, right?”

Wednesday merely nodded at her, and continued forward.

“Great, exactly how I wanted my first night to go,” Enid whined.

They had to circle the gravestone to see the inscription. Wednesday approached slowly, letting the delicious anticipation build with every step. And then she saw it.

“‘Here lies—’” Enid began to read. She froze, then finished: “‘Master Adam Wednesday, who died too young, in his eighteenth year.’ What are the chanc…?”

Wednesday immediately felt another shock run through her spine, this one moving upward, and her head snapped backward the moment that the sensation hit the back of her skull. Then, all went black.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: A Vision Most Sinister

In which Wednesday comes to after her vision and juggles university life

When Wednesday finally awoke, the ceiling above was unfamiliar. Lower than the crossbeams of the Nevermore penthouse dorm, and insufficiently scattered with silken cobwebs and rusted chains compared to her childhood bedroom in the Addams manor. Wednesday blinked slowly, forcing her eyes to focus. Bright light invaded through a nearby window, which suggested that an alarming amount of time had passed since she blacked out.

“Hey, Wends. Careful. Just stay laying down for a bit. Take it slow.” Enid’s voice came from across the room, a worried cooing in her tone. It was cloying, almost suffocating, like being buried under the vocal equivalent of six feet of cotton candy. But it was also Enid, which had the strange effect of shifting Wednesday’s tolerance for coddling up ever so slightly.

“I’m fine. Where are we?” Wednesday asked.

“Um, our room?” Enid replied.

“But… oh,” was all that Wednesday managed. She turned her head slowly, taking in the space. Right, their new room. All of the same trappings, none of the same bones.

“You really spooked me there,” said Enid. The worry was still there, but now a little quieter. Echoes of all of the close calls that the pair had suffered through in the last three years lingered underneath her words.

“Spooky is kind of my thing, after all,” said Wednesday, but this reply felt a little hollow in return. There was a teasing quality, as always, but only perhaps in a weak attempt to break the tension that was building in the air.

“It had yesterday’s date, Wends. Which means it was fresh fresh. Not to mention that it was practically your name.”

“I remember.”

“You crashed out and had a vision.”

“Yes.”

“And I had to carry you all the way home. Again!”

“Oh. That I don’t remember.”

“Why does this keep happening, Wednesday?” Enid asked, voice still very small.

“It’s who I am…” said Wednesday. She paused, sighed, and then continued: “Well, maybe, it’s who we are. It’s never just me. We’re both always in the centre of the vortex of the madness.”

“I guess part of me hoped that this would be a fresh start,” said Enid.

“Did you really, if you had the option to room without me but chose this anyway?”

Enid laughed weakly. “I guess not.”

Several minutes of silence lingered between them. The quiet here sounded different to Wednesday’s familiar silences, too, just as the ceiling looked different. The draft was a faintly higher pitch, and the electrical hum of the various lights and utilities was more omnipresent.

“Wait,” said Wednesday, having fully woken and settled back into her corporeal body. “Enid…”

Enid hummed in response.

“Did you change my clothes?”

A brief, uncomfortable silence. Then, Enid said, “You literally fell face first into the grave dirt. When the vision ended and you went fully unconscious, you were basically a Wednesday-shaped cake with a full coating of chocolate icing all down your front.”

“I resent the unhealthy quantity of glucose in that metaphor, but it wouldn’t be the first time I came home caked in mud,” Wednesday replied.

“Sure, but presumably awake and able to shower. And I know your sheets are worth like a fortune, Wends. I did not want to be responsible for replacing them.”

“It’s—” Wednesday began. A breath. “No, it’s fine, Enid. I was just caught off guard.”

“For what it’s worth, I only swapped your outer layers.”

“Acceptable compromise given the circumstances. I will endeavour to not fall prone onto fresh graves without advanced warning in future.”

“Sure, because that’s totally in your control.” Then Enid asked, “Do you… remember what you saw?”

That was a point. One which Wednesday had somehow overlooked in the process of waking up. Typically, the content of Wednesday’s prophetic visions burned themselves into her mind, battling with her actual memories and the physical world in front of her eyes to the point where the moments after a vision blurred the line of reality. This was…

“Only the faintest edges,” Wednesday admitted. “Shadows and sensations, which fade as soon as I try to focus on them. It is maddening, and not in the pleasant way. My mind is not accustomed to being this permeable.”

For the remainder of the day, nothing resurfaced in Wednesday’s mind of whatever her vision at the cemetery had revealed. It was deeply frustrating, and itched in the back of her skull. The only solution was to seek information the old-fashioned way: research and interrogation.

Unfortunately, however, this was literally their second day on the university campus, and while classes hadn’t yet begun, other priorities reared their heads to compete with Wednesday’s desire to narrow in on this new case.

“But we have to go, Wends,” Enid pleaded.

“Why in any of the nine layers of hell would I wish to attend a social gathering, when there’s a mystery to be solved or, in the absence of any progress on that front, a perfectly good room to sit quietly in and work on my next novel?”

“Because I want to go, but I don’t want to go alone.”

This should’ve meant nothing to Wednesday. “Give me one practical reason, and I’ll reconsider.”

“It’s being hosted by the outcast student club, and it’s important in any new situation to identify the most useful allies and the most dangerous enemies. If a good portion of the other outcasts attending the university are going to be there, it puts most of both people in the same room all at once.”

Wednesday wanted to argue that the most sinister and nefarious individuals were likely to stay home, plotting their next moves. However, Enid’s point wasn’t entirely illogical. The lay of the land didn’t only mean knowing where the libraries, cemeteries, and sources of coffee were located. It also meant understanding the wickedly complex, headache-inducing social networks. Wednesday had tried to ignore this aspect of the world too often at Nevermore, and though it was still very high on her list of unpleasant tortures to endure, at least it was an area in which Enid’s talents could complement her own.

“Fine. But I will not drink, we will eat in advance, and we will leave the moment that I’ve hit my limit or decide that the soiree has exhausted its usefulness,” Wednesday conceded.

Giving an actual squee (Wednesday genuinely hadn’t believed that real people made such noises before meeting her roommate), Enid said, “It’ll be so much fun, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Like when you promise to disembowel me for my music taste, yet after all this time I still have all of my vital organs?” Enid teased.

“I vivisect you in my mind hourly to satiate the urge,” said Wednesday.

“Aww, you think about me every hour?”

“Shut it, Sinclair, or I will rescind my acceptance of your invite to this event.”

“Not when I’ve already decided what outfit you should wear to match mine!”

Wednesday sighed. “I will not be borrowing anything from your wardrobe. Even if I wanted to, it would send me into anaphylactic shock, which I only allow myself in controlled doses from specified substances.”

“You forget that I’ve had to put up with looking at your wardrobe choices in return, for three whole years. With that skirt that you wore on Outreach Day in our last year, and that stripped jumper that you always pull out when the weather is just starting to cool down, you can be my monochrome twin!” said Enid, already moving to rifle through the hangers on Wednesday’s side of the room.

“You’re lucky that your potential utility over time exceeds the level of displeasure that I feel toward you right now,” said Wednesday. “But I will hold this against you.”

“You’ll hold what against me? Your outfit? Only while you’re wearing it, babe.”

Wednesday felt her limited blood supply rush into her face, and she glared knives at her roommate. “Enid, I swear to god…”

“Good thing you don’t believe in god,” Enid pointed out.

“I’m beginning to suspect that Loki or Anansi or some other trickster god exists, solely because you have been put in my path.”

“Aww, Wednesday Addams is so thrilled to have me around that she’s become religious about it.”

“Please die.”

Instead of politely dying as asked, a few hours later, Enid was dragging Wednesday by the wrist toward one of the sorority houses on the other side of campus. Neither girl had bothered with this aspect of university life, with Wednesday uninspired by the interpersonal expectations of collegiate clubs, and Enid’s scholarship not covering the hefty donations required to access most societies. Still, this was an open-door party, other than requiring demonstration of or at least connection to outcast ancestry, and Enid insisted that being a sorority-hosted event would mean it had the good stuff. Whatever that meant.

The campus wasn’t enormous, but compared to the contained high school grounds, the various lecture theatres and hostels and other miscellaneous buildings spread across a significantly larger area than Wednesday was used to. More area to canvas, for better and worse. Gertrude Hall occupied a spot on a street with a mix of houses repurposed as academic offices and various utility buildings. By comparison, the stretch of society houses on the far side of campus had a street of their own, with a dozen or so colonial-looking houses playing dress up with pseudo-Greek architectural tropes. All of them an eyesore, born of the desire to show wealth without the sense of taste to back it up.

It was immediately obvious which house was hosting the party.

Lawn chairs and grimy couches and coolers filled with ice and beer covered the front lawn, where a flagstone path led up to wooden stairs and into a two-story building with multi-coloured lights pulsating through every window. It was tenfold worse than the most offensive fairy lights that Enid owned. Even from the sidewalk, Wednesday could smell the alcohol, the sweat, and something sweet underneath it all that was probably weed. It wasn’t even very far into the night yet.

“Outcasts party as disappointingly as normies, it would seem,” Wednesday said, mainly to herself.

“It looks so alive!” Enid replied, evidently having heard Wednesday’s muttering.

“That’s precisely the problem.”

Grabbing Wednesday by the wrist again, Enid tugged her toward the porch, and through the heavy wooden doors into the building. They were briefly stopped by a bored-looking student who was probably a year or two older than the pair, who wanted their ‘credentials.’ Enid gave him a flash of her claws and a wide, fanged smile. Wednesday merely glared, imagining needles slowly pressing into the boy’s eyes, which was apparently (along with Enid’s presence) sufficient that the would-be bouncer raised his hands in surrender and ushered them through without further comment. The inside was immediately much worse than the outside, for the sounds and lights and smells overlapped here, assaulting all of Wednesday’s senses at once. The air was thick and warm, the mass of human bodies producing enough heat to compete with the fires of hell.

“I can’t believe we’re at our first real party!” Enid exclaimed.

“Nor can I,” said Wednesday, deadpan, giving Enid a withering look.

“Oh, come on. Either you’re enjoying yourself, in which case you’re enjoying yourself. Or you’re miserable, in which case you’re enjoying yourself.”

“That logic is deeply flawed, and I resent it,” said Wednesday. “It reduces my masochism to a mere farce, when it is in fact a nuanced and curated personality.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re ‘deep’ with your sad goth girl vibes.”

They pressed further into the sorority house. In the low but ever-changing light, it was challenging to really make out the specifics of most of the other party goers. Wednesday did spot the pale eyes of several sirens, a rowdy group that were no doubt werewolves (or, at least, were-somethings), as well as the odd vampire or gorgon or selkie. But at least half of the crowd was externally unidentifiable, whether because they had a more hidden lineage (Pugsley was certainly living proof of just how mundane an outcast could look), or because they’d managed to sneak or talk their way into the party. Though, Wednesday didn’t expect that all that many normies would be particularly attracted to this kind of event, unless they were themselves somewhat deranged. All up, it was fractionally better than a purely normal gathering, but wildly inferior to solitude. Of course.

“Enid!” a voice called from within the crowd. Wednesday struggled to spot its source (curse her stature), until a pale woman with wire-framed sunglasses appeared and wrapped Enid in a tight squeeze. “Didn’t know if you even knew this was on, let alone would come. This is so exciting!”

“Why is Tanaka here?” Wednesday interrupted, not managing to hide the bitterness in her tone, and directing the question to Enid.

“You’re here?” Enid said only half a moment later.

“Yeah, well, um…”

“Are you stalking us?” asked Wednesday.

“I would say no, except you’ll probably hear my explanation and decide otherwise,” said Yoko.

“Do tell.”

“Well, Enid wasn’t exactly subtle about how excited she was when her acceptance letter came, but also”—Yoko looked back to Enid—“you didn’t hide your disappointment that we were all going our separate ways. I looked into it, and discovered that the Psi House had another permanent vampire resident. Look, I know that I talked about staying at Nevermore indefinitely, but I can basically do the same here, and Divina couldn’t stick around as a high schooler forever, so we made the jump. But wanted to surprise you.”

“That siren’s here too?” Wednesday asked.

At the exact same time, Enid said, “Divina is here too? O.M.G. This is incredible!”

“And here I thought I’d finally get some peace,” Wednesday muttered.

“Nice to see you too, Addams,” Yoko replied, letting the sarcasm drip from her words.

“Come on, Wends. Yoyo and Vinny have our backs, or at least mine, and while I know you get hives from colour, I also know that you’re not actually allergic to choosing to be polite, just personally adverse.”

“I suppose having a bloodsucker and a con-woman around could prove occasionally useful.”

“That’s the spirit, Addams,” Yoko said dryly. “Need a drink, Sinclair?”

“I promised Wends that we’d do this one dry, or she’d have stayed in the room,” said Enid, an over-exaggerated pout on her face.

“You’re rooming together, again?”

“I know, isn’t it the best?” said Enid.

At the same time, Wednesday replied, “Enid is tolerable compared to the presence of a stranger.”

“Get a room already,” Yoko said.

“That’s what we just said, Tanaka. We’ve got a room.” Wednesday didn’t understand why the vampire was being so thick.

“Yeah, you do,” was all that Yoko replied. Wednesday thought that Enid went red, but chalked it up to the changing lights.

“We’re looking for information on one Adam Wednesday, no relation,” said Wednesday.

“Um, Wends, we’re here to make friends,” Enid corrected.

“Convenient acquaintances may be a beneficial but secondary outcome, but I am here for information. Have you heard of this ‘Adam,’ Tanaka?”

“I—no, I haven’t,” Yoko admitted. “Is he your evil twin from another dimension, and you have to kill him to assert your dominance as the most gothy goth?”

“He’s already dead,” said Wednesday.

“Not undead? Then why would he be here?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I am asking.”

Yoko gave a bemused shake of her head. “I don’t know any Adam, but there’s a senior in Psi House. Regina Wednesday. She’s probably upstairs, smoking with her pals. Just watch yourself. They’re a bunch of bitches first, outcasts second. Fucking DaVincis.”

“Enid, we’re going upstairs. Tanaka, I accept that you will be attending this school, but I also expect you to keep your social calls to a minimum.”

“So, you two wanna grab coffee tomorrow?” Yoko asked.

“Yes, yes, yes!” squealed Enid. “The summer felt sooooo long. We have so much to catch up on!”

Wednesday let out a long sigh. “I will suffer your presence for the sake of caffeine, but I will be bringing my garlic and holy water to ensure that you fuck off once you start to bore me.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Coincidences and Convergences

In which Wednesday follows clues and attends classes

“It’s what he gets for following me around like a sad puppy. Never had an original thought. Couldn’t even leave me alone after I left home. Barely worth being called a DaVinci with how little control he had. Pathetic fucking child. I’m mainly just pissed about what it’s put dad through. Funerals are expensive as fuck, and dad’s wife will be having a meltdown over her precious baby’s murder.”

“Murder?” Wednesday asked. It turned out that Regina was Adam Wednesday’s sister (half-sister, she insisted), but didn’t care enough to know anything useful about his final hours. But the comment about ‘murder’ confirmed something that Wednesday hadn’t known for sure, bringing vague hints of her vision back. Strangulation by a pair of small but surprisingly strong hands, the boy unable to summon the will to resist as something pressed upon his mind, suppressing his consciousness well before the physical asphyxiation kicked in.

“No suspects, no leads. Just neck bruising on his dumped body. The killer didn’t even take his phone or wallet,” said Regina. Her tone was dismissive and apathetic. Though Wednesday delighted in a good murder, the callous way in which this girl treated a family member was detestable.

“Can you let us know if you hear anything more? My number is…” Enid began.

“Why do you care? I don’t want your number. Fuck off.”

“I believe his murder was meant to be a message for me,” said Wednesday. “My name is Wednesday Addams, and I…”

Regina interrupted again. “Good for you. Don’t care.”

Two of the girl’s friends stood, and Wednesday and Enid were pushed out of the door. Already looking away from them, Regina Wednesday waved a hand at the door, which slammed shut in their faces of its own accord.

Trudging back down the stairs, Wednesday stewed internally. Her mind ran through a dozen different options for carrying out a second, untraceable murder of a member of Adam and Regina’s family in the same week. But she just let Enid take her elbow, and drag her back out of the sorority house. It only been several minutes since they first arrived, but Wednesday was already entirely over the party, and wanted nothing more than to crash back in her room.

Outside, leaning against the porch railing, they ran into Yoko again, now with Divina. The couple were engaged in disgusting public displays of affection, their lips and hands on one another in a way that reminded Wednesday of her parents. Even without having drunk anything, Wednesday wanted to puke.

“Oi, Sinclair, Addams,” Davina said, breaking away. “Yoko said she spotted you. Good to recognise some faces, and see at least one”—Divina smirked at Enid—“friendly face around here.”

“We’re leaving,” said Wednesday.

“Nooo, Wends, we only just got here,” whined Enid, still tugging at her arm.

Wednesday had thought that she was leading them out of the party, and said as much.

Enid replied, “Just for some fresh air after dealing with that jerk. I figured you needed out for a few minutes. But if we leave now, this doesn’t count as having been to a party!”

“A bunch of fur jocks just turned up, and it stinks of sweat in there now,” Yoko said. “No offence, Enid.”

“Oh, no, I agree. Noticed that on the way down. Growing up with my brothers means I hate it more, not less,” said Enid with a shrug. “We could go have our own party – Wends and I have a decent amount of space. Acceptable compromise, Wednesday?”

“You want the snake and the charmer in our room?” Wednesday sneered. “We have a killer to find.”

“Classes haven’t even started, and you’re investigating a new murder already?” Yoko asked, ignoring the first part of Wednesday’s statement. Many of her former peers had built up an inoculation to her insults over the last three years, unfortunately. “Is that a personal record?”

“For investigating a murder at a new school? Perhaps. For committing one…? That’s a different matter,” Wednesday said with a dark stare. (The statement wasn’t a lie. Just the implication of it. Wednesday had never intentionally murdered a classmate. Yet.)

Inevitably, the snake and the charmer did end up following them back to Gertrude Hall, arm-in-arm with Enid on either side, while Wednesday stayed several steps ahead. It was more tolerable than the house party, and Yoko and Divina were content to talk with Enid on her side of the room, while Wednesday sat at her desk and tried to block out the conversation. Shortly before midnight, she tried aggressively using her typewriter (no reaction), replacing her cello strings (mild looks of annoyance), and then finally pulled out a partially complete taxidermy project. At this last passive-aggressive endeavour to bring the night to a close, Yoko actually seemed more interested in what Wednesday was doing, but Divina would have none of it, and dragged her girlfriend from the room before Wednesday could complete even one new stitch.

“Must you?” Enid asked, her face contorted and refusing to look at Wednesday’s setup, despite the fact that any blood had been long since drained. In response, Wednesday stayed silent but merely began packing up her tools and the pre-cleaned, road-killed mongoose hide that her Grandmama had gifted her for Yuletide, the flesh having served as dinner a few days prior.

“You know,” continued Enid. “They’re not the worst people that you could be friends with. Yoko shares lots of both style and interests with you, and Divina would be down for anything, if you ever needed extra hands for some less-than-legal activity. You just need to give them the time of day.”

“They should invest in watches,” Wednesday said dryly.

“You should invest in being nicer,” Enid retorted, though she said it without much sting.

Letting the subject otherwise drop, Wednesday just gave her roommate an eyeroll that was nevertheless something of an admission. Wednesday didn’t actively dislike either of their former classmates, just treated them with the same passive distaste as everyone else. The fact that, in addition to a standard practice of sarcasm and insult, she had actually allowed them into her room and to then leave alive should’ve spoken volumes about her level of tolerance. Besides, she even treated them better than Pugsley.

Nevertheless, Enid too seemed to have had a long enough day. Before long, the two of them climbed into their respective beds, Enid curling around a very spherical unicorn plush, and Wednesday settling into her comfortingly cadaverous position.

Over the weekend before classes began, Wednesday made absolutely no progress on investigating the murder of Adam Wednesday. As much as she had detested having to work with Sheriff Galpin before his gruesome murder in her second year at Nevermore, and then had never really managed to be in Sheriff Santiago’s good graces, small-town constabularies functioned very differently to those in a city. Security at the police headquarters was much higher here, the receptionist unwilling to disclose who was working on the case, and none of the detectives that she independently identified would entertain any of her questions. There was no such thing as a casefile left serendipitously in the backseat of an aging hatchback vehicle. The greater degree of procedure, as well as Wednesday’s knowledge that city law enforcement came with an even higher risk of systematic violence without real consequence, left her with little taste to push her luck.

But the killer was thorough. The little that Wednesday could glean between the lines of the non-statements from the police, some digital snooping with Enid’s help, and the few public statements so far, suggested that everyone involved was truly at a dead end, as Regina had claimed. Without a crime scene to personally investigate (apparently, the murder had taken place in a car, which had been scraped for evidence and then already gone to the wreckers), it wasn’t that Wednesday couldn’t follow the trail so much as the trail simply not existing.

Her only consolation, if one could call it that, was that a message like this wouldn’t be a one off, especially if the killer thought that it hadn’t been properly received. Despite darkness being her preference in a literal sense, being in the dark figuratively didn’t sit well with Wednesday. But she had a feeling that the killer would know if Wednesday didn’t take the right meaning from their actions, and only ensure that the next one was clearer. The next body would drop soon, and she’d be ready for it.

In the absence of progress, the remainder of the weekend wasn’t unpleasant. Enid disappeared once or twice to catch up with her other friends again, but otherwise she and Wednesday spent essentially two whole days together, exploring the best spots in the nearby town, identifying escape routes, locating where their classes would take place, stashing emergency supply caches, meeting a few unremarkable fellow members of Gertrude Hall, and setting traps on their door and windowsills. It was about as normal as Wednesday could expect for starting somewhere new. More and more students appeared as the weekend stretched on, with flocks arriving by the time it was Sunday afternoon. But Wednesday’s death glare was still just as effective, and no rooms existed past their own door, so she endured it in relative peace.

Then Monday struck.

Their respective schedules didn’t align well at all. Wednesday had all mornings, with a free day each Thursday. Enid had at least something every day, the majority of her lectures and workshops in the afternoons. And though Wednesday’s literature course was in the same building as Enid’s media and theatre courses, but often not on the same days. Chemistry classes and labs took place in a completely separate wing, which was another five minutes for Wednesday to walk from their dorm compared to where most of the arts were taught. It would have been a nightmare to coordinate on the fly, so Wednesday ended up writing out a shared calendar that showed when it was possible to grab lunch together, which Enid subsequently colour coded with neon highlighters, much to Wednesday’s displeasure.

Luckily, both had kept their evenings relatively free. Wednesday had Eskrima (a Filipino, knife-based martial art) once a week, but at least that was on the same night the dance group that Enid had signed up for. Yes, Enid was determined to ingratiate them into campus social life, but otherwise, the two girls could at least return home to one another’s company at the end of each day. After so long together, Enid remained a constant noise in Wednesday’s space, but her mind now saw it as more of a background white noise than an invasive cacophony. Without Enid, the room felt altogether too quiet.

However, the lunches that they could grab together became something of a staple in Wednesday’s weeks pretty quickly. Especially the longer break right in the middle of the week, when they were able to wander off campus and find somewhere that simultaneously was quieter and served better food than any of the university shops. They weren’t officially working lunches (not for study, of course, but for investigative business), but it became pretty common for the main topic of discussion to be Wednesday’s latest line of inquiry.

Adam’s murder continued to gnaw at Wednesday, but while she waited for the killer’s next move, they busied themselves with other ‘cases.’ More often than not, this was simply an anomaly or suspicious-looking individual that one of them had noticed on campus. Enid freely admitted that she much preferred this kind of small-time sleuthing, over the terrifying intersection of extreme violence and the supernatural that they had experienced several times at Nevermore, and that Wednesday seemed to be itching to find again. But Wednesday made a point of not complaining. The little mysteries didn’t risk Enid’s physical safety, and seemed to scratch the same itch as gossip-mongering, which meant that Enid was remarkably invested. So Wednesday continued to keep an eye out for the strange and the conspicuous, and would share her observations in a conspiratorial tone over their meals at a little Mexican restaurant that they found. Each time, Enid would lean in with a sparkle in her eyes, eager for their next case.

For the most part, classes were a non-event. Despite actively advertising that it accepted and wanted to support Outcasts, this was predominantly a Normie-run institution. Between her high aptitude for absorbing new material, and little chance of any physical harm occurring even in the chemistry labs (let alone the literature lectures), Wednesday found that her study was more of a time filler than a challenge. At least the material was new, so she was learning, but it didn’t take a lot of concerted effort.

Enid too was largely thriving in her courses. At least, the practical elements of her theatre papers were the perfect match for Enid’s talents and personality, and she had significantly more and more informed views on the media content than on any courses at Nevermore. The theoretical components of both disciplines were a little more of a challenge for Enid, who didn’t necessarily lack the understanding, but merely the rigour and the inclination toward research and essay writing. Over the first few weeks, however, Wednesday also built into their shared schedule various study sessions, to body double with Enid to help her focus on her assignments, and to work through the structure and arguments of her writing.

Overall, Wednesday quickly decided that tertiary education suited her personality significantly more than high school had, while leaving her with more time for her independent pursuits. She just found herself sometimes wishing for something unexpected to occur, before catching herself and admitting that, no matter how exciting, it was probably preferable that not every year of her education was defined by a life-threatening event that shook her entire world and sense of self.

Three smaller occurrences crossed their path before the first month was out, none of which Wednesday could be certain were related to Adam’s murder. She filed away the details of each, waiting for a pattern to emerge.

In the second week, as Wednesday and Enid headed out one evening to work on their first assignments together at their new go-to café, a pest control trap just off to the side of the path had something large and dark crushed in its jaws. Being familiar with both mechanisms of death and practices of conservation, Wednesday was at first more surprised to see it so close to a public throughfare, especially where people could walk their pets. Upon closer inspection, however, she discovered that it was a raven. Such birds weren’t common in the area, but not entire unheard of. However, they tended to be too smart for this kind of trap, and uninterested in the kind of bait usually on offer.

Then, that weekend, when Enid ordered takeout for the two of them plus Yoko and Divina on the Saturday night, all of their meals arrived with any piece of red meat still entirely raw and bloody. The delivery driver, who Wednesday chased down and cornered just off campus, had seemed almost dazed, and had no recollection of any problem with the order. By the time that she arrived back at their room, Enid had already called the restaurant, and a replacement order was on the way, but the staff member on the other end of the line was convinced that they’d sent out a perfectly normal set of meals.

Finally, almost two more weeks after the takeout debacle, when Wednesday was starting to get fidgety about no other developments, a scream filled the air right outside her Friday morning chemistry lecture. The whole class immediately distracted, Wednesday hurried for the door. In the courtyard outside, surrounded by several onlookers, one already on the phone to emergency services, an olive-skinned girl with long black hair was curled up on the concrete. The side of her head was bruised and bloody, the wound dripping down onto her almost entirely greyscale outfit.

The injured girl locked eyes with Wednesday, despite the size of the crowd quickly forming. Scenes of her vision in the cemetery came rushing back into Wednesday’s memory, as they had done the night that she had spoken with Regina. Something old and mechanical—a typewriter, she thought, but maybe she was just projecting an item from her own life—being used to bludgeon the girl’s skull, but leaving her alive and awake enough to stumble out into the open air. The scream echoed through Wednesday’s mind again, the same that she had just heard, realising that it had also appeared in her vision the month before.

Whatever these seemingly random events were, the pattern still indiscernible to Wednesday despite her best efforts, each one felt personal.

And now, finally, in ramping up their dramatics, the killer had finally given Wednesday a victim to interrogate.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Hidden Presences

In which Wednesday continues to run into dead ends, but also gains allies

With a quick command, Wednesday sent Thing to sneak into the ambulance with her phone, ready to report back with its final destination. Unlike Nevermore, which preferred to keep most matters in house, and otherwise there was only the one small hospital in Jericho, Wednesday couldn’t be certain where the killer’s latest victim would end up. The larger city was simultaneously a blessing and a curse for sending Thing, as he would definitely be more out of place than at a specialist school for Outcasts, and had to navigate greater crowds and more dangerous roads than in Jericho. However, one could duck around a corner and immediately disappear more easily in the chaos of a city, and the denizens of this place were more often disaffected and distracted by their own business. Still, Wednesday felt an unfamiliar pang of apprehension as he scuttled beneath the ambulance and leapt up to hold onto the undercarriage, while also trying to maintain a proper grip on her device.

Her impromptu tracking mechanism established, Wednesday didn’t bother to head back into her lecture. It was unlikely that it would properly resume anyway, as law enforcement had also arrived and begun to talk to witnesses, and any focus or momentum that the class had was now inevitably lost to the chaos. Instead, ensuring that she herself didn’t get cornered by the cops and the campus security, Wednesday beelined back to her dormitory. Without her phone, she was hoping that Enid would be home and not out somewhere being social. Today was one that they often found a little time to grab lunch together, but Enid wouldn’t be expecting her roommate for almost another half hour.

“…Are you here? I need your phone,” Wednesday was already asking as she pushed open the door to their room.

“Hello to you too,” Enid replied. She was sitting on her bed, with a textbook propped up on her lap.

“Oh good. And you’re not using it. Even better,” said Wednesday.

A little sheepishly, Enid lowered her textbook to show Wednesday where her phone was sitting between the pages.

“Ah, I stand corrected. No one was even here—who were you hiding it from?”

“I guess it’s, um, habit,” Enid said, avoiding eye contact with Wednesday in embarrassment.

“Right, well, never mind. I’m expecting a text from Thing any minute.”

“You’re out of breath, talking super quickly, and have sent thing away? Tell me what happened,” Enid said.

“A clue,” was all that Wednesday responded.

“Go on.”

“Well, a girl ran past my chem lecture, screaming, with blood pouring from her head.”

“Shit, Wednesday, that’s intense. Like, yes, okay, maybe it’s related, but is she okay? The poor thing! Were there lots of people around?” asked Enid.

“She’ll be fine. It clearly wasn’t meant to be fatal. The quantity of blood was impressive, but not more than I’ve survived before. The killer wanted me to see it. I’m certain. Thing’s with the ambulance.”

“So, we’re going to whichever hospital she ends up at?”

“She might not be awake for a day or two, but yes. That gives us time to figure out a way in.”

As Wednesday was speaking, Enid’s phone went off. Wednesday went to grab it, but Enid held the device up out of the way. “Chill, Sherlock.”

“I need to know where Thing is.”

“I know. Which is why you don’t need to snatch my phone to answer a phone call from Agnes,” said Enid, punctuating her words as if Wednesday had been the one to just sustain a head injury. But Wednesday relented, dropping to sit on her own bed across from Enid, who answered the call with an affectionate, “Hey, psycho, sup?”

Whether simply not thinking of it, or intentionally trying to annoy Wednesday, Enid hadn’t put her phone on speaker. Wednesday could only vaguely hear the pitch and cadence of Agnes DeMille’s voice, as the younger Nevermore student explained something at length.

Enid’s side of the conversation didn’t exactly reveal much more: “Oh yup … Really? Damn … Sure, of course! … But that definitely sucks … Yeah, she’d love to have you, haha … When? … That works!”

“Care to share with the class?” Wednesday asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice.

“Our favourite little freak is coming to stay,” Enid explained.

“First, I’d have assumed that was at least half my decision. Second, why? Third, when? Fourth, why?” Wednesday asked.

Over the course of their final year at Nevermore, her and Enid had continued to grow closer with the young Vanisher. Their other friends variously joked about Agnes being their apprentice, their pet, and (to Wednesday’s greatest chagrin) their daughter. But, ultimately, the uncanny younger girl had genuinely become a friend. Sure, the friendship was defined by its sarcasm and passive aggression, but neither Enid nor Wednesday would’ve allowed someone that deep inside of their bubble to allow such back-and-forth to occur if they didn’t care for them. When Agnes had first revealed herself on Prank Day two years ago, Wednesday had been convinced that, despite the fact that she may have otherwise admired whatever was wrong with Agnes, the Vanisher had gone too far, tried too hard, and put the wrong person in danger by targeting Enid. However, since having come into her own and becoming, as Wednesday and Enid had encouraged, her own freak, Wednesday looked back and figured that it wasn’t so out of character that one of her close friends had once been her opponent and stalker.

Upon graduating Nevermore, Enid had cried saying goodbye to Agnes, and Agnes had stared at the pair of them with such wide eyes (even more so than usual) as if desperate to burn their image in her memory. Agnes wouldn’t graduate for several more years, and was essentially trapped at the boarding school just as they had been until she was eighteen. But they also were at significantly different points in their lives, and there wasn’t really a practical way or logical reason to try to maintain anything more than a digital presence in each other’s lives. Wednesday had not expected to see her in person anytime soon.

“She’s… god, Wednesday, it’s pretty awful,” Enid began. She sighed, took a breath, and continued, “Her dad doesn’t want her home. Sounds like summer didn’t go well. Because their school terms are different, and started earlier, Nevermore has a week’s break even though we don’t. She, um, didn’t really want to be on her own at Nevermore, and one of the teachers with family out this way offered to give her a ride if we’d have her.”

“I—right, okay,” said Wednesday. “I’m going to need some time to prepare for that mentally, but… good, I suppose. If that’s what she needs. Where will she stay?”

“Um, here?”

“This room is often too small for even two, Enid.”

“It’s only a week, and she can bunk on my side if she needs to. It’ll be fun!”

“Fine. How long do I have?”

Enid winced slightly, as she explained, “Um, she will get here late tonight.”

Her eyes going wide, spine stiff, Wednesday didn’t respond. Staying sitting on her bed for a full minute of silence, she eventually stood and swiped Enid’s phone from her hand (in response to which she received a pout and an indignant “Hey!”), and marched out of the room.

“What about lunch?” Enid called after her.

“If you happen to turn up at our usual spot in twenty minutes, you might find me there if you’re lucky. But don’t follow me right now, unless you wish to be hamstrung,” muttered Wednesday.

“See you soon, then!” Enid said, with exaggerated brightness.

***

Of course, Wednesday did go right to their favourite on-campus lunch location. They only really made it off campus over lunch to a better café on Wednesdays. But she did need the time alone, and several other students wandered near and then promptly excused themselves at Wednesday’s intense glare. She pulled out Enid’s phone, still not having heard from Thing, and navigated to their group chat with Agnes.

The previous interaction had been an argument between Enid and Agnes over the name of the chat:

[Little Psycho changed the name of the group to ‘The Three Musketeers 💀👻🐺’]

Big Bad Wolfie: nuh uh thats not happening 😡😡😡

[Big Bad Wolfie changed the name of the group to ‘Addams & Sinclair Detective Co 🔎 (+ Agnes)’]

Little Psycho: If we’re detectives, you’re the mascot at best or maybe the potted plant 😂

[Little Psycho changed the name of the group to ‘The Two Musketeers coz one of them died 👻💀’]

Big Bad Wolfie: oh stuff u your obvs 3rd wheel

Big Bad Wolfie: (oops pls dont kill me wends! *youre)

Wednesday Addams (do not change my name!): Hello, Enid and Agnes. You are acting like children. Please grow up. In addition, I am once again bemused that you corrected one error, but decided that the remaining two errors and lack of punctuation were permissible, Enid. Insincerely, W.A.

Big Bad Wolfie: see?? its ENID and agnes not agnes and ENID

[Big Bad Wolfie changed the name of the group to ‘💀🐺👻’]

Wednesday Addams (do not change my name!): Hello. Enid, I will tolerate the emoticons this time. Agnes, please do not change the group name again. Worst wishes, W.A.

[Little Psycho changed the name of the group to ‘💀👻🐶’]

Little Psycho: Oh I’d already done it 😅

Little Psycho: Soz

Little Psycho: I’ll fix it!

[Little Psycho changed the name of the group to ‘💀👻🐺’]

Big Bad Wolfie: …

Big Bad Wolfie: 😠😤👿

Little Psycho: jk jk chill

[Little Psycho changed the name of the group to ‘💀🐺👻’]

Wednesday Addams (do not change my name!): Hello. I better not get more notifications on this subject, or the next people notified will be your next of kin. Yours terribly, W.A.

Big Bad Wolfie: yes maam 😭

Little Psycho: 🫡

As unnatural as such a response was, rereading their messages almost brought a smile to Wednesday’s face. Almost. They didn’t actually use the group chat very often, as Wednesday would be the first to admit that she was not the most responsive. In fact, it was a point of pride. She also knew that, despite their bickering, Enid and Agnes messaged each other directly most days, in a chat called ‘Mortal Enemies (👻 vs 🐺)’. They primarily communicated not only with the little emoticon pictures, but also the bigger ‘meme’ pictures, though Wednesday still didn’t know what the connection was between the latter kind of image and the use of theories of genetic transmission to explain the evolution of cultural practices.

She was about to digitally accost Agnes and demand more warning next time, but then realised that having the younger girl around for the week could be very useful for her investigations, and decided to bottle up any further frustration.

Then, a ping came through, from Wednesday’s own number (which, unlike the group chat, she’d allowed Enid to slightly modify, though not quite into a nickname, appreciating that Enid recognised that she had a heart as black as midnight):

🖤Wednesday🖤: Thing Addams reporting with intel. At Central Hospital, Accident and Emergency Ward. But listened in, wound is dramatic but superficial, girl to be discharged to university infirmary tomorrow morning. Awaiting orders. Thing over.

In his typical dramatic fashion, it was obvious that Thing was enjoying being back to investigative antics. Wednesday typed out her reply:

Enid: Hello, Thing. This is Wednesday using Enid’s cellphone. Please keep watch overnight, and return with the ambulance in the morning. New intel on our end: codename “Thin Air” will be arriving in the evening, and can assist in our further investigations. Over and out, W.A.

In response to which she immediately received:

🖤Wednesday🖤: ???

Since Enid had used the same double or triple question marks before to signal a query without asking an explicit question, Wednesday interpreted the implication without too much trouble. Sighing, especially at having to reopen the conversation after her very definitive farewell, Wednesday explained:

Enid: Hello, Thing. I am referring, of course, to Agnes DeMille, and am offended that my clever moniker for her was unappreciated. Given her talent for going unseen, it felt appropriate to use part of the idiom “to disappear into thin air,” which I had presumed all people of minimal intelligence or higher would recognise. I am disappointed to have to explain it to you. Please carry out your assigned mission as discretely as possible. You do not have possession of my cellphone for the sake of ‘chit-chat.’ Stay vigilant. Over and OUT, W.A.

Thing reacted to the message with a ‘thumbs up’ emoticon, which Wednesday let slide, as it felt uniquely appropriate coming from the disembodied hand.

Having finally received an update, and pleased that she wouldn’t be required to trek into the city proper and infiltrate a hospital, Wednesday let out a breath and sat up straight to keep an eye out for Enid. There was literally no chance that her roommate didn’t follow, even if Enid did take the hint and give Wednesday a few minutes to sort through her own thoughts. If Wednesday stormed out, the solution was never to risk her ire by chasing after her. Unless you were the enigma known as Enid Sinclair, who had proven time and time again that, while she’d give Wednesday a little space to breathe when asked for, short-term reconciliation was important and inevitable.

She wasn’t at all surprised, then, to see a head of wavy blonde hair appear across the courtyard in which Wednesday sat, eighteen minutes after Wednesday had walked out of the dorm. Adding the thirty seconds that it would yet take to close the distance, Wednesday accepted that Enid had mostly waited for as long as she’d requested.

“Yo. Got your fumes out, yeah? Ready for the poor, strange, abandoned child to join us for a bit?” Enid asked by way of greeting.

“I don’t fume. I seethe, and I glower. And,” said Wednesday with a very firm glare at Enid. “She is not our child.”

“No, but she is a child, which is how I described her,” Enid pointed out. “The idea that she is ours is on you.”

“She will have to grow accustomed to a single, widowed caregiver without a single maternal instinct in her body, if you speak a further word about this inane and inaccurate topic,” threatened Wednesday.

“‘Widowed’ implies that we’re m-a-r-r-i-e-d,” Enid said, spelling the word out in a sing-song voice.

“I was ironically entertaining your delusions by way of a conclusory statement to the subject.”

“So you don’t think I’m wife material?”

“I—” Wednesday began. She frowned, slightly. “I do not believe that wives should be reduced to their material value. It’s perhaps one thing that I can agree on with my father and his attitude toward my mother, despite all of their other despicably intimate behaviour.”

“Aww, my little grumpy feminist. Don’t be too hard on your parents. It’s nice, seeing a couple who show how much they still love each other. I’d like to experience that, some day. My parents certainly don’t provide a good blueprint,” said Enid.

“Note that I will likely grow to resent your presence if I have to endure seeing you act like my parents with your future partner,” Wednesday said, receiving a raised eyebrow from Enid that she wasn’t sure how to interpret. “But your parents, or at least your mother, are perhaps at best blueprints for the contemporary devolution of humanity into swine, and even then they provide less utility as at least a farmed animal can be turned into a decent meal. I bet Esther would taste foul, much as she deserves to go on the butcher’s block.”

Enid shook her head, eyebrow no longer raised, as she visibly dropped whatever she had been thinking. “I appreciate your enthusiasm for my… emancipation? Is that the right word? But please don’t murder my mother. I know you wouldn’t get caught, but I’m not sure if interrogated that I wouldn’t crack under the pressure, and you’d end up in jail anyway.”

“So, just to be clear, it’s not actually the murder of your mother with which you take issue?” Wednesday asked. “Just the risk of the consequences returning to haunt me?”

“Wednesday Friday Addams, I will be disappointed in you if you kill my mother, but I will admit that I appreciate where the sentiment comes from, and have felt it myself sometimes. I’m my own adult now, though, and half the country away. Even if she’s not dead, she’s dead to me, and that’s enough.”

“I will refrain for now,” Wednesday promised.

“Good. Anyway, Agnes? Got any ideas?”

“Well, she can help me access the infirmary once the girl who got her skull bashed is back on campus, and then, next week, she could sneak into…” Wednesday began.

Enid sighed, and cut her off. “I meant… any thoughts on what we might need while she stays? Or fun places that we could take her? Do you think she’ll want to sit in on any of our classes?”

“Enid, you’ve met Agnes. If I tell her that I’m being goaded and threatened by an unknown killer, and have a witness to interrogate, and want her help… Or, you suggest going to the mall or dragging her along to your lectures… Which do you think she’ll decide is the most fun?”

“Damn. No, you’re right. But can we at least find some time to hang out together? In a normal way.”

“I would remind you that our ‘normal’ is not exactly, well, normative. But, fine. We can show her the best coffee, and the nearby cemeteries, and that Mexican restaurant, and that abandoned basement underneath the Politics and History building. And, if you can persuade the RA to let us borrow it, we can watch a film on a sheet with the projector, so long as you promise that it is a genuine vote on which film, and not just ‘Enid gives puppy eyes until we watch a romantic comedy’,” said Wednesday.

“That’s… still a pretty weird agenda, but it sounds like about as good as I’m going to get. I am not going back into the basement, but the movie is a good idea. Just… please, can we draw the line at slashers that are basically torture porn?” Enid asked, definitely bringing out those very same puppy eyes.

“I will ensure that any of my horror recommendations use gore in narratively meaningful ways, and the tiebreaker will fall to Agnes. We both know whose film taste she will favour,” said Wednesday.

Enid sighed. “Fine. Fine! I recognise that this is you compromising. God, Wends, this is like a million miles from who you used to be, and yet I still end up watching things with you that give me nightmares for days!”

“If you’re not legitimately scared, what excuse will you use to sit knee-to-knee with me, and burrow your face in my shoulder when you think something is about to leap out?” Wednesday asked, giving Enid a teasing smirk.

“I—I—” Enid stammered, trying to defy Wednesday’s implications. Her shoulders dropped. “Yeah, okay, fine. You only let me hug you when there’s blood and gore, and since I really don’t want it to be my blood or your blood ever again if I can help it, your movies are the only other thing. It’s who I am, Wednesday! And you starve me of it.”

In response to her somehow-even-more-inflated puppy eyes, Wednesday simply rolled her own.

“Oh! We should go to Target or Ikea and get like an air mattress and a pillow and whatever other furniture we can fold and stash away for when she visits,” Enid said, dragging the conversation off in a completely different direction, her voice turning shrill with excitement.

“And whose money are you proposing we use to fund this foul excursion to the altar of capitalism?” Wednesday asked.

“Yours, of course!”

The day continued to tick by, Enid’s afternoon theatre class coming and going, and neither girl heard anything further from Agnes. They ordered takeout to their room (luckily, no raw steaks dripping with blood this time), including enough for a third person. Agnes had said that she would arrive later in the evening, but Wednesday still thought that was fairly ambiguous, and could’ve meant in time for dinner depending on when the younger girl drew the arbitrary line between ‘evening’ and ‘night.’ Though, Wednesday admitted to herself that she shouldn’t have been all that surprised. After their rocky start in Wednesday’s second year at Nevermore, with Agnes deciding to remain as strange as ever, but own it for herself and not just imitate Wednesday, it became quickly apparent that one of Agnes’ core traits around those with whom she felt comfortable was ensuring that no one expected her next move. Wednesday and Enid had become good at predicting the Vanisher, and also noticing when she was invisibly present, but that only pushed Agnes to up her game. Always wanting to get one over them.

As Enid had kindly labelled it once, Agnes’ number one hobby was ‘fuckery.’ Not the word that Wednesday would have used, but after looking up this particular variant of what was apparently the world’s most versatile curse, she decided it was entirely appropriate.

It was entirely unsurprising, therefore, when a voice suddenly manifested out of thin air, right as Wednesday was ready to give up and head to bed, and said as much to Enid. In Agnes’ snarky, higher-pitched tone, the voice said, “Aww, what a shame. I was sure she would’ve arrived by now!”

And, though ‘unsurprising’ in the general sense, the specific moment of reveal definitely got the better of Wednesday, who had to force herself and draw on every ounce of her control and reserve to not jump a little, or let Agnes see any reaction on her face. Enid, on the other hand, very much jumped. And squealed. And swore. And lunged for where Agnes had materialised, claws out.

As she was tackled to the ground, Agnes let out a laugh, which quickly turned into her breathlessly asking for mercy. Though still very much amused. “God, down puppy. Get off me. You win! But, ah, I got you so good.”

“The only thing you’ll be getting are these claws in your throat,” Enid growled. But, even as she said as much, Enid was pulling their guest to her feet, and pulled her into a tight hug. Tight enough, of course, to further crush the breath out of Agnes, but Agnes simply squeezed her back.

“When?” was all that Wednesday asked, by way of greeting.

“Good to see you too, little viper,” Agnes said, clearly intentionally goading Wednesday by mimicking one of the names that she must have heard Gomez use in the past. “Maybe I’ve just grown in my power, and can walk through walls?”

“When?” Wednesday repeated.

“Right behind the delivery driver,” Agnes admitted, dropping heavily to sit on the side of Enid’s bed.

“That was hours ago!” said Enid, falling next to her and flopping backward onto the bed in a dramatic fashion. “You let the food go cold for the bit?”

“Anything for the bit.” Agnes beamed at each of them.

“Maybe not walk-through-walls good, but you have gotten good,” Enid said. “From the tiny little flicker in her eyes, not only did I not sense you, but Wednesday didn’t either!”

“Now, listen here. I—” Wednesday began. She paused, looked at Agnes and then away, and then crossed her arms. “Fine. Yes. I’m out of practice, and I didn’t notice you.”

“I’ll add that to my jar of compliments from you. Which is currently just an empty jar,” said Agnes, miming screwing open a lid and looking sadly inside the imaginary vessel.

“I thought you were past caring what I think about you?” Wednesday asked. Her tone was deadpan, but this was known to all of them as a common point of teasing.

“As an object of stalkerish worship? Sure,” Agnes said with a smirk. “But, and I don’t know if you’ve heard of this, but there’s such a thing as liking your friends and wanting them to like you back.”

“Inconceivable. Horrifying. Cruel and usual,” Wednesday replied, scrunching her face in mock disgust.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: Transparency

In which Wednesday balances emotions and infiltrations

“Hey, um, do you want to talk about it, Agnes?” Enid had asked, as the three girls were preparing for sleep the previous night. They’d finished the last of the (gone cold) pizza with Agnes, and otherwise kept the conversation fairly casual. How their respective classes were going, updates on others they knew who are still at Nevermore, what it feels like to be more independent here at the university compared to a boarding school life.

“I—” Agnes had paused, then shook her head. “Not tonight. The drive took a while, and the plans only changed yesterday, which is why I didn’t ask earlier. But, yeah, I guess it’d be good to get it off my chest sometime soon.”

The final moments of their time awake having turned solemn, Wednesday pulled her sheets up high to her chin, arms crossed stiffly over her chest, listening as Agnes rustled softly into her makeshift bed on the floor. The new air mattress squeaked slightly, but those physical noises were also punctuated by careful sighs and long breaths as the younger girl tried to calm herself into sleep. Emotional vulnerability was not Wednesday’s forte, unsurprisingly. But, as she struggled to drift at first, and then eventually fell asleep, the sighs and silences weighed on her mind, experiencing an uncomfortable echo of Agnes’ emotions for herself. Empathy (which is what this was, as far as she could tell) was not something with which Wednesday had much practice, but had been bubbling up in her chest periodically over the last three or so years. She blamed Enid.

Still, those same gnawing feelings persisted even as Wednesday awoke on Saturday morning, just as the sun began to rise. From their breathing, the other two girls were still fast asleep. Typically, on a weekend, Enid would likely sleep for at least another hour or two. Agnes was an early riser, if not quite as early as Wednesday, but was likely both physically and emotionally tired from the last few days. Wednesday’s first impulse was to get out of the room, and find some headspace somewhere else, letting them eventually wake to find her gone. Her second impulse was to make a racket and force the sleeping girls to wake and have to suffer through these emotions too.

Instead, she put aside her old habits, and simply sat in bed reading until the sun had risen a little higher and, its rays stretching into the room and across the other girls’ faces, the two of them began to stir. Ultimately, this still meant having her own space to think, and being semi-productive in her own room, without either being used to take out her discomfort on her friends, neither of whom deserved it. Still, it wasn’t the kind of discomfort that sat pleasantly within Wednesday, unlike say a mild poisoning, and by the time Enid gave a low grumble and Agnes pulled herself up to sit, Wednesday was dreading the morning.

Because, not only did Agnes need to speak her piece, but her relationship with her father was not dissimilar to Enid’s relationship with her own family, and such a conversation would inevitably unsettle both of them. Wednesday knew, objectively, that her connection with her parents was fundamentally positive, especially in comparison to her friends’ situations, but that only made her more nervous. Maybe even a little guilty. She knew that Enid would’ve wished for parents as accepting as Gomez and Morticia, and yet Wednesday had the privilege and the arrogance to reject the genuinely infinite affection and support that her family freely offered. It was genuinely something that, along with recognising the value of her friends, Wednesday was trying to actively process, in a way that she could still manage within (or, maybe, despite) her predilection toward independence and intensity.

Stretching while still groggy, Wednesday saw Agnes shift in her peripheral vision, before the girl destabilised the essentially weightless mattress, and landed heavily on the floor. It was fortunate that the bed wasn’t raised any higher.

Enid was immediately awake, though stumbled a little as she struggled with her own sheets to disentangle herself. Rushing over to Agnes, Enid knelt next to their guest, cooing over her with concern. The look on Agnes’ face was obviously one of embarrassment, but masked over with fury.

Instead of saying anything, Wednesday merely pivoted her head the slightest bit, and looked over the top of her book at the other two girls, raising an eyebrow.

“I know there’s a smirk behind those pages. Enjoying my misery?” Agnes asked.

Wednesday lowered her book further, placing it on her lap, to reveal an entirely impassive expression. However, she let her amusement shine in her eyes, feeling the anxiety of the morning flooded out by the ridiculous moment. Enid caught the look, and started softly laughing. Still seated on the wooden floor, Agnes pouted. Enid laughed harder. And then Agnes couldn’t hold out any longer, and joined in with a still-embarrassed giggle.

“I think we need coffee,” declared Wednesday. “Lick your wounds, then we’ll head into town. My shout—but when is it not?”

Given the limited offerings of Jericho for cafés or other such establishments, Agnes seemed to highly approve of the strange, grungy, and fairly quiet spot that Wednesday and Enid frequented. The younger girl’s style had continued to evolve (away from being a direct mimic of Wednesday, that is), and now the three of them made a very odd trio. Between Wednesday’s stark monochrome, with everything perfectly in place; Enid’s nauseating pastels and patterns, though these days punctuated here and there with one or two darker influences from her roommate; and, Agnes’ choice of still largely dark colours, but more rich tones than Wednesday, whether forest greens or deep reds, all wrapped up in a style that Agnes was attempting to label ‘vintage reporter chic’… They were definitely not a combination that the average onlooker would expect.

They found a booth in a moody corner, beneath a fading poster of what Wednesday assumed to be some niche British punk band, perhaps from the ‘90s. The staff shortly brought over their orders, as no one else had been in the cue for coffee. A quad espresso, the same but over ice in a glass, and a loaded butterscotch milkshake with rainbow sprinkles and a chocolate swirl and a double shot. Despite Wednesday having given the order for all three, the server didn’t miss a beat in handing over each drink to its correct owner. She wanted to be annoyed at being so easily typed, but seeing the way that Enid had at least a splash of every colour present in her drink’s sprinkles, and made a delighted sound at her first sip through the novelty straw, Wednesday admitted that it would’ve been more offensive if the server had needed to ask.

After waiting for Enid to finish a particularly long and loud slurp of her drink, Wednesday decided to break the ice, get to the point, and ask Agnes, “Do you want to tell us about what happened over the last few days, and over break, and who I need to make suffer to fix it?”

Agnes let out a long sigh, staring down into her glass. “There’s hardly anything to say. Not that you don’t already know. My father finds any excuse to make every problem and inconvenience my fault. Whether I’m there or not. He builds up a list of grievances in my absence, and invents new ones when I’m around. I guess, maybe… you two helped me to have a little more spine over our time together, and he didn’t much appreciate my attitude. He made a call to Nevermore, partially drunk one night, and insisted that he didn’t want to deal with me ever again, and either they could take me back or else I had the choice between a military school or living on the streets. At first, the school assumed, as did I, that he would relent with sobriety and time. But when my dorm mother called to confirm that he would actually take me home again, he refused. He’s legally obligated to pay for the completion of the school year, since he’d already signed the contracts before his drunken rant, but has cut me off after that. The administration is looking into scholarship options for me, or potential sponsors from the Outcast community, but otherwise I’ll legally fall under the care of the state if they aren’t able to both fully fund and take custody of me. I didn’t want to stay at school this week, with no one who understood, and…”

As she trailed off, Enid was already in tears. “That’s so shit, Agnes! Like, I know exactly what it feels like to not be wanted by your parents, but at least I was the one to make the decision to cut them off. And that was when I became an adult. This is, like, a thousand times more shitty and petty and messed up of your dad!”

“If we take a cab, we can make it to his place by evening. My parents will cover any costs, and probably be envious that they don’t get to take out the trash with us. I’ll hold him down, and you can pick any weapon you choose, and then I’ll help you make it look like an accident,” Wednesday said, her voice low and dangerous. Part of her knew that this was her old habits creeping out, using threats extremity and violence to demonstrate how much she cared without explicitly admitting it. But it was hard not to see red as she heard their younger friend speak.

Agnes gave a dark, humourless laugh. “I appreciate it, Wednesday. But he’s not worth the effort. I’d appreciate some help making sure that I don’t have to leave Nevermore, and maybe some legal action, if I don’t have to be personally involved too much, to make sure that I can get some of my most important stuff and documents back. He’s a miserable, lonely man, and letting him suffer that way without getting my hands dirty is good enough for me. Fuck him.”

“Yeah, fuck him!” Enid called out in agreement, a little too loud and getting a glare from the waitstaff. Not that there were any other customers to disturb.

“Well, in that case,” Wednesday said, then swiped Enid’s phone from the table (her own was still with Thing, who hadn’t yet provided an update again that morning), hitting one of the few contacts in Enid’s phone that she actually recognised. When it connected, she said, “Hello Lurch, can you please pass me to my father?”

Sharing a glance, unsure quite what scheme Wednesday was pursuing without explanation, the other two girls just listened. Enid didn’t even react to Wednesday helping herself to the phone, too curious and shocked that Wednesday was obviously calling home.

“Father, please. This is a business call, though one with a worthy cause. There is no need for such theatrics. It’s barely been a month since we last saw each other. Yes, yes, I know that your heart begins to slip into sentimentality long before mine does. May I make my request?”

Wednesday knew that she was being a little dramatic, keeping her friends in the dark for now by only letting them hear one half of the conversation. But, what was the point of life if not to be a bit of a thorn in the side of the people closest to you, especially when you were actually doing them a favour?

“Right, well, do you remember my junior acquaintance, the one with fiery hair and a knack for disappearing? Yes, Agnes. Agnes DeMille, to be specific. Do a little digging on the family, if you’re curious—bring them no harm, or, no physical harm—but you won’t have to dig very deep to figure out why this is necessary. She needs a sponsor for the rest of her time at Nevermore, as her pathetic excuse for a father has done what no Addams would dare and disowned her. Can you contact the school, and arrange something? Right, yes, excellent. No, we’re not looking for a name change at this point. She’s her own person, and it would go to her head but also distract her from being herself if we named her an Addams. But, yes, okay, I hear you. She’s invited back to the manor for any long breaks, so long as she behaves. Thank you, father. Yes, I will try to call again more often. Right, I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.”

Over the course of the conversation, Agnes’ already large eyes had grown impossibly larger. And, Enid had the gall to be staring at Wednesday with a proud and amused smirk. Wednesday didn’t know what else the two of them should’ve expected—even for the stoic and independent Wednesday, loyalty to family was the very highest principle by which every Addams lived. That meant both condemnation of anyone who treated their family in the way that Agnes’ father did, but it also meant knowing when a lost and unusual individual needed a family with whom to belong.

“Wednesday…” Agnes said, but was otherwise at a loss for words.

In response, Wednesday merely shrugged.

“That’s, like, the most wholesome thing you’ve ever done!” said Enid. “Though, won’t pretend I’m not a little bit upset that the little psycho got invited into the Addams family before I did…”

With a dramatic eye roll, Wednesday said, “Firstly, was almost getting killed to protect the school two years in a row not more selfless, if we must tally my contemptable virtues? And secondly, I just explicitly forbade my father from anything remotely resembling a formal adoption. Why would you want to be part of the family of horrors and nightmares, anyway?”

“Your sacrifices at Nevermore were noble and momentous, yeah, but I specifically said this was wholesome, Wends,” Enid argued. “And, as far as the other point goes, I—” (a sudden, awkward pause) “—you know what? Never mind, if it’s not obvious to you.”

Choosing to ignore whatever it was that Enid was implying, Wednesday turned back to Agnes. “As an expression of your gratitude to me, though I do not expect repayment, I would ask you to consider lending your aid to my latest investigation.”

With something more concrete to grasp onto and respond to, Agnes said, “Oh, right, um… I mean, yes! Duh? Did you think I wanted to visit because I like going shopping and painting my nails with you? What is it? A murderer, or a stalker, or someone criminally insane?”

“Hey!” Enid protested, in response to the pointed comments at her less-unhinged hobbies.

“All of the above,” Wednesday said. “A stalker, who has committed murder and several other insane acts to get my attention. It’s been maddening for weeks, but we finally have a lead.”

Enid groaned, but Wednesday could hear beneath the sound that her annoyance wasn’t fully genuine. If Wednesday and Agnes were scheming about a case, Enid would want to be right in the thick of it with them. In fact, Wednesday reminded herself that she would need to navigate the other two girls’ participation carefully, so that it didn’t become a game of one-upping each other for their contributions. That would inevitably distract from solving the actual puzzle at hand, in addition to generally being frustrating to exist in the middle.

“How can I help?” Agnes asked, eyes shining with eagerness.

“The killer’s latest victim survived—was intentionally allowed to by the killer, I believe—and is being transferred back to the campus infirmary sometime this morning. There will doubtless be security, but less than at the public hospital. Of course, since when was security a problem when you are around?”

“Oh!” said Agnes. She hesitated for a moment, though, looking a strange mix of excited and guilty.

“Spill it, whatever it is,” Wednesday insisted.

“Well, um, we haven’t had a lot of time to catch up about, well, most things, yet. I’ve been working with one of the senior Vanishers. I don’t know if you know her, and you’d probably find her annoying, but she tolerates me and seems genuinely willing to help me, um, grow in my abilities.”

“Just to be clear, because we did ask last night—you can’t walk through walls, right?” Enid asked.

Agnes shook her head. “It’s still just invisibility, but…”

“But?” Wednesday prompted.

“Wednesday, please take my hand,” Agnes said.

“I don’t do touch,” said Wednesday.

Not verbally replying, Agnes merely extended her hand across the table, palm up. As she did so, she pointed looked at where Enid sat next to Wednesday, their shoulders very clearly touching, even if Enid was the one leaning in.

“Fine,” said Wednesday, and placed her stiff hand on top of Agnes’ palm.

A moment later, the world swam around Wednesday. It felt almost like being in one of her visions, where edges blurred and colours faded. But the café and Enid were still exactly where they had been, only she seemed to be perceiving them through some kind of faint distortion. Agnes also still sat across from her, but unlike Enid, was still crisp and in full colour. The younger girl was grinning at her, waiting for a response.

Still processing whatever was happening, Enid’s surprised exclamation came first. As she spoke, clearly seeing what had happened from an outside perspective, it clicked in Wednesday’s mind at the same moment. “You’re invisible, Wednesday!”

At the realisation, even as Agnes withdrew her hand and Wednesday’s sight settled back to normal, she felt the corners of her lips twitch. Wednesday didn’t even want to resist the smile, as it spread across her face, terrifying glee shining in her eyes. Agnes all but flinched at seeing so many of Wednesday’s teeth.

“Oh no,” said Enid, staring between Wednesday and Agnes with horror. “I don’t know if you can even imagine what you’ve just unleashed, Little Psycho.”

A little after ten o’clock, after they had finished their drinks and were meandering back to campus, Enid’s phone finally chimed with a message from Thing.

🖤Wednesday🖤: Thing Addams reporting with an update. Hospital transfer vehicle has departed for the university, yours truly on board. ETA is 1030 hours. Awaiting orders. Thing over.

Enid managed to not let Wednesday snatch the phone away this time, and insisted on replying herself:

Enid: thingie! hope ur safe! 🥰🥰🥰

Enid: will meet u outside student admin building

Enid: regroup first 🥸 have plan 2 get in

It did feel like a cruel trick that the universe was playing on Wednesday, that she had an accomplice who could turn her truly and completely invisible, but that it required skin-to-skin contact at all times to activate and maintain. She had joked with Agnes that, maybe, Wednesday would be able to go invisible on her own if she carried one of Agnes’ severed fingers with her. The hypothetical victim of said amputation did not find it amusing. Luckily for both of them, it was Agnes’ intention not just her flesh that controlled the power, so it was out of the question.

Right about as they were arriving back at the edge of campus, a van with hospital branding drove past the trio, heading in the direction of the infirmary. Hurrying the other two girls a little, Enid in particular protesting that she couldn’t go back to their room first to prepare, they made it to the student administration building just as the doors were swinging shut behind a paramedic pushing a wheelchair.

The sound of fingers snapping twice came from behind Wednesday, who simply gestured for Thing at her waist, without taking her eyes off where the wheelchair had disappeared. She felt him climb up and into her bag, at which point she held it open to watch as he signed an update. Paramedic will stay until midday to monitor handover. Patient fully cleared and discharged, but expected to remain supervised as she rests until Monday morning. University security has promised to be stationed outside her dorm building and classes for at least the next few weeks while police investigation is underway. Aside from your inevitable impatience, she will probably be least watched over the weekend as no one expects her to be targeted again while directly in the care of the administration.

“Thanks Thing,” Wednesday said quietly. “You remain effective, and may keep all of your fingers.”

The disembodied hand showed her exactly what he thought about that with a very specific finger, but there was amusement in the action.

“Should we wait for night?” Enid asked. “It’s not like you can talk to her while invisible, if the paramedic is still in the room.”

“He’ll be gone by noon. Only minimal staff in the building over the weekend. I suspect, given the only access to the quiet rooms in the infirmary is past the main desk, that they won’t permanently station someone in the room. We can get past reception and security easily, and then we just have to convince her to talk to us without calling for help,” Wednesday said.

“There’s a good chance that she’ll scream if three people suddenly appear in her room, and it wouldn’t exactly inspire her to feel safe if you did something to physically stop her from calling out,” said Enid.

“Well, for one, I can only bring one person invisible with me at a time,” Agnes explained.

“Wednesday, don’t tell me…”

Wednesday looked at Enid with a genuine apology in her eyes, though her expression otherwise remained resolute. “Can you be lookout, and create a distraction if necessary?”

Groaning melodramatically, Enid said, “But I’m always lookout. You say you want my help, but then leave me outside.”

“Enid, I know it’s boring, but it’s important. You’re also the last line of defence for if things turn dangerous. Agnes and I are sneakier, but you’re the one secretly packing werewolf muscles,” said Wednesday.

“I won’t accept your flattery, but I guess that you’re not going to let anyone else do the talking, and I’m not the one with the literal genetics for being a freaking stalker. Just don’t have too much fun without me!”

“Put your theatre courses to use, and entertain the guards?” Wednesday suggested.

“Won’t that be suspicious?” asked Enid.

“Only if you’re not any good.”

They vacated the area for the next while, though Thing stayed to confirm upon their return that the paramedic had indeed left, that no insurmountable, additional security had arrived, and that the killer’s victim hadn’t been moved again. Fortunately, at least on that front, everything was going to plan.

With a few more tiny details squared away as they returned, Enid found a seat within sight of the entryway, and Wednesday and Agnes disappeared from view, talking at a moderate volume about Wednesday’s chemistry class. Once around the corner, confirming that no one else was watching, Wednesday forced herself to reach out a hand and place it high on Agnes’ shoulder, where the neckline of her top allowed Wednesday just enough space to directly touch skin. She resisted the shiver of discomfort, her force of will to stay connected greater than her dislike of physical touch. As Agnes concentrated, the same sensation of the world shifting and fading just ever so slightly washed over Wednesday once more, signifying that they had become invisible. Though Wednesday was not typically jealous of the abilities of other outcasts, not feeling like she needed anything flashy to hold her own, she would freely admit that she would pay a very high price (in cash or blood) to be able to literally disappear. Especially if there was a way for it to be possible without having to basically snuggle up to someone else. It would’ve been marginally easier if it was Enid, though Wednesday did trust Agnes. Not that Enid would’ve been quiet enough for the invisibility to not be immediately given away.

There was one security guard posted outside the main doors, but said doors continued to be latched open in their usual fashion, even for the weekend. Both being slight of frame and used to keeping their footsteps quiet, Agnes and then Wednesday behind her carefully made their way up the low concrete stairs and into the building. Then, both a receptionist and another guard were talking intermittently in the foyer. The door behind them to the hall of which the infirmary rooms branched was also open, but if the guard moved so much as an inch, say if he stopped leaning on the reception counter to stretch, would not leave the girls enough space to squeeze past. Communicating as best she could with subtle pressure on Agnes’ shoulder, Wednesday signalled for them to wait, and they both all but held their breaths.

After a few minutes, the guard took a long moment to stretch, and made to pace the room as he asked the receptionist another inane question about family or something. Not wanting to get trapped again, if he returned to his previous position when the receptionist inevitably struggled to keep the conversation up again, Wednesday pressed Agnes forward, and they slipped past the counter and into the hall beyond. There was a nurse on duty, or perhaps having been called in to be close to the transferred patient, but seemed sufficiently preoccupied in one of the rooms, working through some sort of paperwork.

Working their way down the hall with utmost caution, Wednesday had Agnes peer around each of the door frames, as most of the doors were not fully closed but closed enough to obscure a full view into the rooms. As luck would have it, the only occupied room was the second-to-last at the far end of the corridor. Inside, as Agnes very carefully and slowly pushed the door open, Wednesday noted that the figure inside was asleep. The room was otherwise vacant. And, the sleep seemed natural, as the patient had no notable monitoring equipment attached.

The more shocking part of it all was the girl herself. Wednesday had observed, the day before, how the killer’s victim appeared to share a number of generic traits with Wednesday. Similar skin tone, maybe suggesting Central or South American heritage, with glossy black hair tied back. It was deeply uncomfortable to notice, however, just how similar the two girls were. Clearly still not wanting to say anything aloud, Agnes nevertheless stiffened noticeably next to Wednesday, and took in an audible breath. Though Wednesday had been confident that the string of occurrences were not random, practically seeing herself laid out on the bed, face drained of blood and with a slight sheen of perspiration, there was no longer any doubt.

Whoever the killer was, they wanted Wednesday shaking in her boots.

Unfortunately for them, Wednesday showed fear for no one. All they’d done was given her a lead.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: Enemies of My Enemy

In which Wednesday learns some information about the killer (and maybe begins to learn some things about herself)

“So, how are we going to wake her?” Agnes whispered at Wednesday.

Naturally, Wednesday had figured that the quickest route possible—whether a good shaking or a cup of water or a sharp jab—would be sufficient. That was unlikely to keep their presence here undetected, however, and she scowled as she contemplated a more… cautious approach.

“Well, most people waking up to my face scream and think they’re seeing a serial killer,” Wednesday admitted, keeping her voice as low as possible.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have a much better effect,” said Agnes.

“If Enid were here, even if the victim was jolted rudely out of her sleep, she’d probably wake up smiling and thanking Enid for her kindness and enthusiasm.” Wednesday overlaid her tone with an attempt at sarcasm, but it also wasn’t far from the truth.

“Is that from experience?”

Wednesday glared at Agnes. “Focus. I’m not sure what you’re implying, but keep it down. Never mind, I’ll just do it.”

Stepping forward to the bed, and pulling free from Agnes’ grasp, the now-visible Wednesday channelled Enid’s openness, and her mother’s gentleness, and her father’s authenticity as much as she could. The expression on her face was possibly no better than her usual cold stare, but when it came to comforting people, it surely couldn’t be worse. Laying a hand on the girl’s shoulder, she gave a slight squeeze, and whispered softly for her to wake up.

“Wha—” the girl sat up with a start, fear in her eyes. Her voice threatened to rise, but as she caught sight of Wednesday over her, instead of growing more vocal, the girl strangely deflated. Letting out a breath, as if to steady herself, the girl simply said, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Woken by a stranger after being attacked by a murderer, I would’ve expected a more dramatic response,” said Wednesday. “Convenient, since I would like to stay undetected, but perhaps also disappointing.”

“I—fuck. There’s no world in which I’m happy to see you, but if I scream, things will be much worse.”

“Explain,” Wednesday commanded, though still attempting to keep her volume low.

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Gabriella Reyes. And thanks to you, I got stalked and kidnapped and bashed in the head,” the girl—Gabriella—replied.

“You’re being remarkably calm about this. Impressive,” said Wednesday in a deadpan.

“I’m scared shitless, Wednesday Addams,” Gabriella said, a tremble in her voice betraying her. “But I’ve been given instructions. If I fuck this up, she won’t let me go next time…”

“She?”

“Feminine voice, not very tall. Maybe young, like us. But that’s honestly all I know.”

“This is the killer?” Wednesday asked.

“Well, since I’m not dead…”

“Not you I’m referring to,” Wednesday cut her off, causing Gabriella to turn very pale. Or, more pale than she had been.

“She grabbed me on the way out of my dorm two nights ago. I was gone for less than a day, so I guess no one yet thought to look for me. I don’t know where she kept me, but she showed me photos. Of you. Really did a number on my skull, and then pushed me out into the courtyard where you supposedly had class.”

“I knew it was a message.”

“What the fuck is happening that some freak is using me, attacking me, to get to some random?”

“I…” Wednesday began. She sighed. “I don’t know. You’re the first clue where not all of the evidence has been fully scrubbed.”

“Right, I’m a clue. Listen, Wednesday—like, what kind of name is that, anyway?—I don’t know what messed up game this is, but I have something that I’m meant to tell you. If I don’t get it right, or if any staff or authorities find out… She’ll know, and she’ll be back for me,” Gabriella said, her words stuttered and threatening to rise as her eyes pricked with tears. But the fear that the killer had instilled in the girl was clearly stronger than anything else that she was feeling, and she kept her voice down.

“I will listen,” Wednesday said. Putting on her most genuine expression (despite that sounding like a contradiction), Wednesday lowered herself to be crouched next to Gabriella. Comparable verticality ought to marginally reduce a perceived power imbalance, and Wednesday needed this girl to calm down.

“‘Child of Woe, you have stolen the future from me. I will have it returned. You need not concern herself with finding me. I shall make myself known when the time is right. I will make it more painful than you can possibly imagine’,” Gabriella quoted to Wednesday, clearly pouring all of her will into keeping her voice level and getting the words right. “Now, that was everything, so get the hell out of here, and keep your fucked up shit out of my life.”

“Look, Gabriella,” Wednesday said. This only earned her a hard stare from the girl, who then gestured weakly toward the door. But more needed to be said. Wednesday continued, “I am genuinely impressed with how in control you have been in this interaction. I apologise, which is not something that I do often, for the harm that has come to you because of someone else trying to get to me. If you—” (she took a breath, summoning the courage to be considerate) “—if you need to, find me at the top room of Gertrude Hall. It is protected. I would speak with you again, if you are willing, but the offer is genuine regardless. I will not have a murderer on the loose befouling my name.”

“Something tells me that I’m just as likely to get murdered in your dorm,” snapped Gabriella. Her eyes shot to the door again.

“Normally, I’d take that as a compliment. However, you should take it as an indication that I can handle whatever this is.”

“Sure. Now fuck off.”

Wednesday felt Agnes’ narrow fingers meet her exposed wrist, and the world tilted around her again. Suddenly able to see right through where Wednesday was standing, Gabriella let out a panicked noise, clamping her own hand to her mouth before it got too loud. Before they could risk anyone coming to investigate, or otherwise wanting to check on Gabriella, Wednesday and Agnes quickly left the room and made their way from the building and out of sight before turning visible again.

“That was… both effective, and kind of you, Wednesday,” Agnes said.

“It was more effective than I anticipated, though I still wish for more information,” Wednesday admitted. “And my offer was proportionate. I will not have whoever this freak is keep the upper hand, and I will not have guilt hanging over me because of her victims.”

Agnes shrugged. “Don’t worry, you’ve still got the coldest heart I’ve ever met. But you’re rational and reasonable, despite what everyone else might think, and sometimes it’s rational to show kindness. You weren’t going to get her to open up again if you threatened her back.”

“I doubt she’ll show,” Wednesday replied.

“I don’t know. She’s spooked and desperate, and you extended an olive branch. Lonely and scared people will go to extremes, sometimes.”

“Is that from experience?” said Wednesday, parroting Agnes’ earlier jab.

“Yes and no. I’ve done as much, but I think so have you.”

“Stop trying to be wise or empathetic. It doesn’t suit.”

“Hardly. It’s not wisdom. It’s the result of obsessive stalker behaviour, collected and curated over time and aggregated into a facsimile of emotional intelligence,” said Agnes, looking far too proud of herself.

“At least that’s more in character. We should find Enid.”

“Right, well—”

Wednesday didn’t hear the remainder of Agnes’ reply as she felt her body become heavy, and her sight fade to black. It seemed that her mind had been working overtime in the last few minutes, refusing to let her succumb to a vision while in danger of being caught. (Convenient, for once.) But, now that they were out and her thoughts had shifted to the next step, the images came all at once.

This was not a new vision. It felt more like remembering, only Wednesday did not typically experience memories with such tangibility. This was echoes of the vision from the cemetery, a month before. The silhouette that Gabriella had described—a young-looking woman, likely no taller than Wednesday—flashed through her mind, but with no further details than she already knew. Gabriella’s muffled pleading. The words that the terrified girl had repeated to her carried on the wind. You have stolen the future…

Then she was back. Only moments had passed. Agnes was kneeling next to where Wednesday lay on the ground, apparently having rolled her onto her side to stop Wednesday from biting or swallowing her tongue. They were lucky that it had been lawn, not concrete, beneath where Wednesday had gone down. Another figure was there, but Wednesday couldn’t make out anything clearly more than a little way in front of her face. A familiar, comforting voice reached her, however. Wednesday was so tired, the vision having drained all of her energy. But Enid was here now, and could get her home.

So Wednesday let unconsciousness take her, even as she began to feel warm arms slip under her arms, pull her from the ground, and cradle her close.

The sky outside seemed to already be getting dark by the time that Wednesday awoke. It took her a moment to fully come to her senses, at which point she inwardly groaned at how much of the day that she had lost. However, another sensation was distracting, and so novel that it wasn’t immediately obvious what was happening. Some kind of strange, sharp-but-pleasant tingle was moving in waves over her skull. Not like any headache, enjoyable or otherwise, that Wednesday had experienced before.

Rolling slightly, Wednesday then suddenly sat up straight, causing Enid (who had been sitting on the edge of Wednesday’s bed) to jump a little in shock.

“Yikes, Wends, take it slow. You were out for ages,” Enid said, trying to guide Wednesday to lay back down again.

“What were you doing?” Wednesday asked, unable to stop an accusatory tone entering her voice.

“We were staying with you, to make sure you were okay,” said Enid. She gestured to the other side of the room, where Agnes sat, clearly having been doing something on her phone but was now looking over at the pair of them.

“Specifically, Enid Sinclair, what were you doing to my head?”

Noticing an amused look in Agnes’ eyes across the room, then hearing a giggle from Enid, Wednesday shot her a glance of even more intense accusation. Enid stifled the laugh, and said, “Sorry, but I checked your temperature at one point, and you nuzzled into my hand. Seemed to find it comforting. So I kept at it, mostly just stroking your hair with my nails, and it calmed you down.”

“Physical touch elicits in me the very opposite of calm,” Wednesday insisted.

“Okay, yeah, sorry for touching you while you were out to it. It just seemed to be helping…”

Relenting, Wednesday let herself fall back onto the bed, and sighed. “I—thank you, I guess.”

“You looked like you were about to start purring at any moment,” Agnes chimed in. She sounded far too amused.

“Though humans lack the anatomical requirements to replicate a feline’s purr, I would be more than willing to prove that to you with a live demonstration. Care to lay yourself down for a vivisection?” Wednesday threatened.

Such threats were, disappointingly, long since effective on Agnes, who simply laughed again.

“Moving on,” said Wednesday. “We have lost almost a whole day thanks to my vision. Did the little psycho at least relay what occurred, so that I do not have to repeat it?”

“Yeah, creepy threats that the killer terrified the poor girl into relaying to you,” Enid summarised.

“Which is definitive proof that the killer—she—is actively targeting me and committing these acts as a way of communicating. We need to anticipate before she can make her next move.”

“That… makes sense,” said Enid. “How do we track her down?”

Wednesday paused for a long moment. Her brow furrowed, imperceptible to most but obviously noticed by the other two girls in the room. “Historically, if there was a monster in the woods, that’s where I’d stake out to spot them. If they were at school, there were only so many people and so many places to hide, that it didn’t ever take too long for a lead to appear. If I was opening a cold case, there were police files that I could swipe and pick up where the official investigators were too stupid or narrow-minded to see all of the clues. But…”

Making her way from Enid’s bed to the chair at Wednesday’s desk, Agnes replied, “Unlike the woods or school, this is not a closed environment, and the killer could be any one of many thousands of people. And, as far as we know, there’s no official record of the various crimes. We don’t even know exactly where any of the crime scenes are.”

“Correct. Our adversary knows what she is doing, and is using chaos to achieve her anonymity. I was convinced that speaking to the vict… to Gabriella, would give us enough of a lead. I know more now than I did before, but none of it is useful. I don’t even know what I did to supposedly ‘steal the future’.”

“How do we anticipate her, then?” Enid asked.

All Wednesday could do in response was sigh. It took her a long minute, staring into her hands, to vocalise the only realistic answer. “We can’t. The only consolation is that she will get desperate, or at least eager, as her game plays out. She’s gloating. She will make a mistake.”

“I don’t like the idea of, you know, just waiting for another dead body. I thought that’s what we were doing all this time, and then—not that she died—Gabriella got hurt and we’re still just stuck,” Enid said.

“Trust me, Enid. I am finding this all very frustrating.”

“Hey, um,” Agnes said. The other two girls turned to look at her. “I know I said I was excited to help out and catch the killer. And I am. Genuinely, if we could be chasing them down now, I’d be thrilled. But…”

“Yes?” Enid asked.

While at the same time, Wednesday said, “Out with it.”

“Being here is a million times better than back at Nevermore, let alone with my dad, but… can we do some things? Not just wait around? I’ve only got a week.”

Wednesday wanted to rile against this, but held her tongue and forced herself to admit that, especially as they were actually at yet another dead end, Agnes wasn’t wrong.

In not responding immediately, Enid spoke up, saying, “Oh! Of course. We’ve got classes still, but one of us is almost always free. And we’ve got all of tomorrow to hang out. We could…”

“Go to the mall?” Agnes asked, cutting Enid off.

Uncharacteristically lost for words, Enid beamed and her shoulders shook excitedly.

“I thought you were better, more interesting, than that, Agnes,” said Wednesday. “Why would you want to subject yourself to that cesspit?”

“Well, for one, I’ve never been to a mall. Father wouldn’t take me, and it’s not like there’s one near Nevermore. But, that’s not really why,” Agnes admitted. “I liked what we started doing in the quad together last year. Sitting and watching people, and coming up with horrible backstories for them. I kind of know who everyone of interest is at Nevermore now, and it’s boring without someone to do it with anyway. I’m losing my stalker’s touch.”

“Eww, only our little psycho would turn a mall trip into something creepy. She definitely gets that from you, not me,” Enid said, pouting.

“We are not her—” Wednesday began, but didn’t give Enid the satisfaction of finishing the retort. “Fine. We can go worship at the capitalist altar and entertain ourselves with plebeian miseries. However, I decide when my tolerance has expired, and we will leave without further questions.”

Apparently that was a sufficient compromise, and the other two girls readily agreed.

Later that evening, after they’d had yet another takeout dinner, and Agnes was showering before bed, Enid came over to where Wednesday sat at her typewriter, and perched on the end of the black-covered bed.

“Yes?” Wednesday asked, not looking up from her keys. Not that she had typed anything meaningful in the last few minutes, still stewing in frustration over the killer’s identity.

“Oh, um, I just wanted to—” Enid began. There was obvious uncertainty in her voice, maybe even nervousness.

Wednesday collected herself for a moment, and then swivelled in her seat to face her roommate. “Your tone and word choice indicate that you are processing something emotionally, and would like to work through it aloud. While retaining my right to end the conversation if it strays into a topic on which I am uncomfortable advising you, I would rather you speak your piece than let it fester inside you. I quite like the sensation of something rotten eating away at my insides, but I know it is not to your tastes.”

“That’s, um, very kind?” Enid said, a little taken aback. “It might be about an uncomfortable topic, though.”

“Being?”

“You.”

Herself now caught off guard, all that Wednesday could respond with was, “I see.”

“So, can I…?”

“I suppose. You have piqued my curiosity, despite my likely distaste of being… vulnerable about this particular subject matter,” said Wednesday.

Looking her directly in the eyes (Wednesday did not let herself flinch), Enid said, “I know I saw you have visions before. Back at school. But, that was Nevermore. Weird things were always happening. And others knew about psychic powers, and even how to handle them. When it got worse two years ago, with the black tears and everything—and I know you didn’t appreciate this at the time—but at least your mother was there. But, here on our own, in public… I don’t know how to look after you. It’s like watching someone have a seizure. And then you end up unconscious for hours, sleeping it off. And… I don’t know. I’m struggling to process it after this morning.”

“I’m fine, Enid,” Wednesday replied.

But she knew that wasn’t the right answer, and Enid’s deflated expression confirmed as much. Enid had repeatedly put herself at risk for Wednesday, in response to Wednesday putting herself at risk for little reason other than her ego. Yes, that had resulted ultimately in succeeding several years in a row against forces of evil, but this wasn’t even Enid calling her out on her recklessness. Merely Wednesday’s automatic, uncontrolled response to her abilities.

“I appreciated being turned to not swallow my tongue,” Wednesday said after a pause. She forced herself to speak slowly, to ensure that the words came out correctly. “And I accept that you needed to physically move me to a safer space, and therefore excuse such physical contact and give you permission to do so again in the future. I would trust the judgement of few other people, if any, if and when I am unconscious. You are the rare exception, despite your lack of judgement on other aspects of life”—Wednesday glanced meaningfully at the pastels that decorated Enid’s side of the room—“And, as much as I loathe the lost time, sleep is particularly effective at restoring me following psychic activity. My mind needs to rest, which I admit I am not good at allowing it to do while I am awake.”

Faint tears threatened in the corners of Enid’s eyes, though they didn’t fall. She said, “Thank you, Wednesday.”

“What for?”

“Your honesty. I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Swallowing hard, Wednesday forced out her response. Not because it was unnatural to feel, but because she had no practice in speaking with such vulnerability. “The feeling is incredibly mutual.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: Mall-evolent Forces

In which Wednesday is forced to go... shopping

Over the course of her young life, Wednesday Addams has survived the fires of destruction brought on by the hatred of a resurrected puritan, has been hunted relentlessly by a shape-changing monster in the guise of a friend, and has brought low the secret leader of a malicious and greedy cult. She has also, slightly more mundane but still traumatising, endured the public schooling system as an Outcast (and simply as an outcast), been raised by a very strange family, and learned to tolerate a roommate who was her complete antithesis.

Yet, nothing in those eighteen-and-a-bit years prepared her for the hellscape of the local shopping mall. The crowds, the consumerism, and the cacophony. Even with all of her personal growth and having faced very real threats to her life, Wednesday genuinely wished to call down death upon herself and everyone else the moment that they entered this Gehenna, this Tartarus, this place of brainwashed and corrupted souls. Enid’s pure glee, and even Agnes’ surprising eagerness, only made things worse. Was she wrong to allow these people into her life, if they could not see through the illusion before them? They were a liability to her safety and sense of self, to her intellect, to her wallet, to every moral and immoral standard to which she adhered. Wednesday wanted to be sick.

Unfortunately, death was not an option available to her this day.

Their first stop was coffee, which Wednesday could at least get behind conceptually. Though, the idea of a café in kiosk form right in the path of the thoroughfare through the centre of the mall was utterly irrational and infuriating. Wednesday received a stranger look for her quad espresso than Enid did for her order than was essentially a dessert. It ended up being vitally important that Wednesday could nurse her beverage as a way of keeping herself sane in this place, grounding herself with the rich and bitter experience when all else threatened to tear asunder her body, mind, and soul from one another. Earplugs might be necessary if they were here too long.

Then, the ‘retail therapy’ began. Though the supposedly therapeutic outcomes in this instance were the fundamental inverse of improving her mental and emotional wellbeing. What might have helped was another, more amusing objective to occupy Wednesday’s mind while enduring the excursion. However, on their walk into the city centre, Enid had also already shut down traumatising other shoppers, making a game out of shoplifting, and destabilising the corporate governance behind the mall. Wednesday was determined to make at least one child cry, and hiding it from Enid would just have to be part of the fun.

Over the course of the morning, they visited eight clothing stores (indistinguishable fashion so ‘fast’ that it was supersonic), four beauty stores (over-scented), three shoe stores (definitely contributing to the spread of foot fungi), one toy store (emblematic of the deteriorating standards of child rearing), one videogames and collectables store (even the geeks and nerds engaged in capitalist idolatry), and one piercing parlour (though unsightly and unsanitary, at least shoppers could get stabbed with needles). Agnes managed to find one or two things to buy, mostly clothing, and Wednesday merely handed her an Addams’ family credit card, refusing to interact with the store clerks herself. Of course, Enid’s haul was excessive. Her werewolf strength was put to ‘good’ use as she continued to accumulate paper bags with stringy little handles and adorned with insipid brand iconography.

Not to mention that, before she would decide to purchase anything worn, Enid insisted on garnering Wednesday and Agnes’ opinions with impromptu fashion shows in the little changing cubicles that each store provided. However, when asked for her views, Wednesday did make a point of being forthright. If she was going to have to look at Enid in these clothes, or hear her pace around in new shoes, then Wednesday figured that she ought to be candid, to prevent at least the most egregious acquisitions. The only problem was that, once Wednesday compartmentalised and pushed aside the fact that everything that Enid wore was nauseating, objectively distinguishing between the various outfits and accessories was genuinely challenging. Enid’s confidence and joyfulness each time she stepped from behind the little curtains had a greater impact on her overall aesthetic than the specific qualities of any one item of clothing. The most ridiculously flared or ripped jeans? Well, Wednesday universally despised all non-black denim, so clearly whichever pair made Enid smile the brightest was the pair that looked best. Pink-and-lime platform shoes? An insult to all things holy and unholy, but as long as they didn’t clack too loudly, Enid’s enthusiasm to wear them to this party or that event was more than enough to placate any offended god or devil.

Three moments would continue to weigh on Wednesday’s mind for the days to come, among the monotony of the rest of the experience. Two of those moments were related to Enid, while (unfortunately) one specifically related to herself.

In the store that sold jewellery-like accessories and offered piercing services (Wednesday would not call it a true ‘jeweller,’ as it sold nothing of any real metallurgic value), Enid and Agnes were teasing one another in front of a selection of—and this was truly one of the greatest horrors of Wednesday’s existence—belly button piercings. Wednesday was doing everything that she could to tune the other two girls out, while also feeling the need to stick close to them to avoid being accosted by one of the store’s retail workers. They circled as falcons, looking for the weak ones separated from their groups to corner as prey. It took Wednesday a moment, therefore, to realise that another voice had joined her friends’ conversation.

“O.M.G., it’s been too long!” Enid was saying.

Agnes added, “Oh yeah, you were in that all-years literature seminar with me, right?”

A young man, who’d clearly spotted them while walking past the shop, was politely smiling in recognition at Agnes, seeming to have just disengaged from a much more familiar hug with Enid. His eyes still flickered back to Enid, even as he addressed Agnes. “Yup, though I guess we didn’t talk much. It’s good to see both of you! Are you studying near here, Enid? Also, hi Addams!”

Despite her friends’ acknowledgement of this random male youth, Wednesday found that she had no recognition of ever seeing him, let alone remembering his name. She didn’t respond to his greeting, and instead Enid replied, “Yes! Wends and I are at the university nearby. Are you there too? Agnes is just visiting us for the break.”

“I got a bit of a gig in Jericho,” the boy said. “Might study next year, but wasn’t ready yet. I’m just here ‘cause it’s break at Nevermore too—not for me, but drove my little brother here to visit our grandparents.”

The weird mix of familiarity yet completely inane small talk began to make Wednesday feel physically ill, as well as generally getting on her nerves. There was nothing remotely memorable about this person, or she would have mentally catalogued his existence at least once, and yet he felt like he had the right to barge in on their day and claim Enid’s—well, Enid and Agnes’—attention.

Cutting Agnes off as she was asking after the supposed brother, who was apparently in her year and they at least didn’t actively hate one another, Wednesday glared at the interloper. She asked, “Who are you?”

“Wednesday!” Enid protested.

“No, it’s alright. I’m Thomas. I don’t think we had any classes together, but, well, it’s hard not to know who Wednesday Addams is.”

“Right. Well, if it wasn’t clear, we’re busy and not looking for additional company,” said Wednesday.

“I—” Thomas began. “Right. Sorry. I’ll go.”

Enid didn’t say anything further to stop him from leaving, but rounded on Wednesday as soon as he was out of sight. “What the heck was that, Wends? Rude!”

“I don’t like people,” was all she said in explanation.

“No, it’s more than that. I can read you, despite what you think.”

“Fine. I didn’t like him, and how he invaded. We’re spending time together, and it’s already challenging enough for me to be here as it is, and then you want to throw small talk into the mix?”

“I understand that you are… let’s say, socially adverse, but learn to be polite, Wednesday! Also, you’ve still got your secretive tell on your face. Spill.”

“I do not have a tell,” Wednesday objected.

“You do,” said Agnes, physically moving to side with Enid.

“Great, now you’re ganging up on me. Fine. Fine!” said Wednesday. She breathed out, and then added, “I didn’t like him because he was looking at you like he wanted to, I don’t know, eat you or something.”

“Oh, now that you say that, she’s not wrong,” said Agnes. “Wednesday and I don’t get that much, I don’t think—serial killer vibes and all that—but guys at school did tend to be a bit gross and obvious around you.”

“I—” Enid started, then paused, frowning. “I guess?”

“Of course Wednesday needs to learn some manners, but I can’t see you being cut up too much about her acting jealous,” Agnes said. She jabbed an elbow into Enid’s side, making the other girl flush and glare back.

“You mistake protection for envy. Whether he meant physical harm or not, it was an aggressive act, and that is not acceptable toward you,” Wednesday argued.

Fortunately, the other two girls dropped whatever they were thinking, and Wednesday forced herself to mentally move on. She still had several hours to endure.

The second moment was in one of the shoe stores. Not the same one at which Enid had found the ham-and-peas-coloured platforms. (Wednesday would never describe them as such to Enid’s face, knowing that would be the last thing she ever said, and Enid would end up imprisoned for her brutal murder.) This particular shop was a little more mature, its décor still very much a façade, but one that attempted to evoke old money with leather and stained wood, rather than the pastel and bubble-gum aesthetic that a lot of the other brands followed. They were ostensibly looking for new, practical boots for Agnes, who had ruined several cheap pairs that she’d been able to afford with her limited funds on various stalking and investigative outings into the woods around Nevermore.

What Wednesday did not expect, however, was to find something that she liked. Many of her clothes were either vintage, occasionally modified, having been in the family for generations; or, if new, they had been bought via catalogue, with Wednesday’s mother simply ordering in a range of black items periodically, and sending back any that Wednesday rejected. Any clothes that Wednesday had ever bought on her own and in-person had been second-hand items, though she could count as such on her hands, including the gothic dress that she had worn to the Rave’n in her first year at Nevermore.

Standing next to her, so close as to almost be touching shoulders, Enid practically vibrated with excitement. Somehow, Enid had caught on right away that Wednesday had spotted something of interest, before she’d had a chance to even process that fact for herself and ensure that it didn’t show on her face.

“They’re so you!” Enid exclaimed. “You have to get them!”

The pair of boots set before them were—of course—completely black. Unlike so many items of fashion, they genuinely seemed to simultaneously make a visual statement that Wednesday appreciated, while still being practical enough to run across all sorts of difficult terrain. The heel was robust enough that she wouldn’t have issues with balance or grip, but tall enough that she might even be able to be at eye level with Enid for once. The leather was genuine, not over-shined, and supposedly from a reclaimed source. Other than that, Wednesday wasn’t entirely certain what drew her to the shoes. These were all things that suited her, but weren’t objectively impossible to find. However, upon spotting them, something in the shape or the presentation or the surprise of actually finding something tolerable… Wednesday had a sensation of need that she rarely, if ever, felt in the context of material possessions.

“I… I don’t need new shoes right now,” Wednesday said, forcing the words out a little.

“God, Wends. We’re not here for essentials. We’re here for the fun little extras that make life worth living!” Enid protested.

“Plus, you’re not that far off needing something,” Agnes said. “You’ve had the same combat boots since I first met you, and they’ve seen some shit in that time.”

“Three years isn’t really very long for a good pair of boots,” Wednesday insisted.

“Counterpoint—they’d look cute on you,” Enid said.

“How is that relevant?” asked Wednesday. However, relevant or not, Enid couldn’t know how much that comment affected her… or, maybe she did, and that was exactly the point.

“How are you relevant?” (What an insult, on Enid’s part.)

So, of course, Wednesday walked out with a new pair of boots.

Finally, the very last clothing store of the day was worse than being dragged over the coals. Well, even coal-based torture was occasionally a pleasant sensation, whereas Wednesday had never felt so out of place as this.

The store had something of a sporty or surfy bent, and the only black items in sight were wetsuits, in which Wednesday had little interest. Every other piece of clothing was bright or heavily patterned or both. And so many of them were shockingly revealing. Despite the comparative lack of fabric, nothing cost less than the much fuller items in other stores. At least with the wetsuits, unlike the casual swimwear, you were getting in quantity what you paid for.

“Is there even anywhere for you to swim?” Agnes asked as Enid browsed the selection.

“I’m sure there’s a pool we can get a pass for. This isn’t Jericho. But that’s not even the point! How can I pass up something this adorable? Besides, we could plan a holiday…”

“Enid, it is getting close to time to leave and find lunch. Given, as our little psycho has pointed out, there is no practical reason to acquire a new swimsuit, let’s not spend too long here?” Wednesday pleaded.

“But…” Enid said, giving each of them a devastated pout. “Can I just try one? They’re all cute, but this one is definitely so on brand for me. It would be criminal to not at least see what it looks like!”

It had been a long time since Wednesday had found a way to deny Enid when she made such a pathetic face, and apparently this instance was no exception.

They wandered toward the back of the store, where there was a line of changing rooms modelled after brightly coloured, miniature boatsheds. Enid darted into the furthest one, possibly recognising that she didn’t really want to be visible to the majority of the store when she showed off the outfit that she’d selected. Posting themselves outside to wait for the reveal, Agnes seemed to have reached the point that Wednesday had much earlier, no longer having the tolerance for remaining in this chaotic and crowded place.

After a minute or two, Enid hissed her name through the bright orange door. “Wends. It’s unlocked. Can you look in here?”

“Why can’t you come out?” Wednesday asked.

“Because… it’s cute, but we’re not at the beach, so,” Enid said. “So! I’m feeling awkward about it.”

“You don’t have to show us, then,” Wednesday pointed out.

“Please just get in here? I want to know what you think, but only you, not anyone random,” said Enid.

“Do you want…?” Agnes began, trailing off as her question was obvious.

“It’s a bit cramped in here,” said Enid.

“Oh, yes, right, of course,” Agnes replied, something in her voice making it sound as if Enid’s mundane explanation had a depth of meaning that Wednesday couldn’t place.

Acquiescing with a dramatic sigh, Wednesday pushed into the changing space. Enid was still facing away from her, but with the floor-to-ceiling mirror, Wednesday could see the whole outfit at once, front and back.

“Enid, you are barely wearing anything at all.”

Wednesday didn’t know how to make a subjective comment on the style of the swimwear, so kept to the simple facts of what she was witnessing. In all honesty, the two-piece outfit was not nearly as scandalous as half of what the store had to offer. Many of the options were little more than three small triangles held together by string. Enid’s choice, however, was simply a pair of (still very short) shorts, in a subtly striped pattern of peach and pink, with a cropped tank that matched in colour but was divided vertically down the middle instead of the narrower stripes.

It was still more of Enid’s skin than Wednesday had ever seen.

“It’s just a body, Wends. And it’s hardly that skimpy! There are probably girls wandering around this mall right now in non-beach outfits that are basically the same,” said Enid. “Putting aside that this is just what swimwear is like, what do you think?”

“The colour palette is garish, though that’s no surprise. Your stomach is exposed, which isn’t ideal for such a vulnerable part of your body. And you still don’t have anywhere to wear it,” Wednesday replied.

“Most of that still wasn’t an opinion. Casual clothes for around home are one thing. But if I wear this, it’ll not only be in public, but in the kind of place that lots of cool and attractive people hang out, and everyone is taking photos. I need to know whether you think it looks good.”

“It’s… tolerable given the kind of clothing in question, and certainly less unflattering on your figure than on anyone else.” That was perhaps the most embarrassing thing that Wednesday had ever needed to admit, despite primarily couching her vague compliment as a double negative, not a truly positive comment.

Clearly knowing Wednesday well enough to hear what was being said underneath the words, Enid didn’t appear remotely offended. Instead, she absolutely beamed at Wednesday, and gave a little twirl. “I’m so glad you like it! I saw it and just knew. Now we just need to find you something for when we next go on vacation.”

“There is no universe in which I will give into that demand,” Wednesday said with as much finality as she could manage.

Luckily, Enid chose not to deploy her pleading eyes, merely muttering about Wednesday being ‘no fun,’ and turning again to start changing back into her original outfit. Not being ready to see even more than she just had, Wednesday made her escape. Agnes was still waiting just outside, with an expression of deep amusement, which Wednesday was tempted to wipe off her face with the knife hidden in her boot. Instead, she elected to ignore the younger girl. She folded her arms, and stared into the middle distance until Enid emerged, properly clothed once more.

Despite physically surviving, and even leaving with a purchase of her own, Wednesday concluded that her time at the mall had been more harrowing than even she had imagined. They would not be returning to repeat the experience anytime soon.

They had walked a full forty minutes from campus to reach the shopping complex that morning, but agreed to take public transport back to the university after grabbing their midday meal. The bus would be its own kind of torture, but anything was a reprieve after being psychologically suffocated in the mall. Wednesday had been hoping that they could pick up food that was comforting to her, preferably Mexican, but all of the places on offer at the mall or nearby that claimed any connection to Central American cuisine deserved to be cursed and burned. In particular, Taco Bell was so far from her family’s authentic cooking that Wednesday would’ve been more likely to forgive a pasta or curry restaurant claiming to be Mexican than subject herself to the insult that was Taco Bell. Instead, she consented to a generic chicken-and-salad wrap that shared many ingredients with but at least wasn’t claiming to be a dish from her heritage, and took the occasional uninspired bite as the bus made its way back toward their home.

A few blocks out from the university, Wednesday’s lunch still only half finished, something akin to the sound of an explosion reached her ears. As the bus wobbled and limped to a halt, it became clear that a tyre had blown. The general din of the vehicle grew as the other passengers grumbled and shouted and pulled out their phones.

“Alright, apologies, but everyone will need to disembark,” the driver called back to them. As the energy in the bus stepped up yet again, he instructed, “Slowly! Row by row, please, starting at the front. Another bus will be coming past in twenty minutes, but you may otherwise need to arrange private transportation to your destination.”

Having managed to claim a seat toward the front of the bus, Wednesday and her companions were out before too long. Most of the other passengers who had exited before them had already wandered off, with only one or two bothering to wait for the replacement. They were close enough that it was simply easiest to walk back to their room. But Wednesday needed to check something first. Stepping around to the front of the bus, which no one had paid any attention to yet as the driver was still busy ensuring that the stream of people leaving his vehicle didn’t turn into a stampede, the cause of the ruptured tyre was immediately obvious.

Unless you included the Addams family’s driveway, very few roads were commonly littered with wicked-looking caltrops. Before Enid and Agnes had caught up, Wednesday was already moving away from the bus to sweep the area, convinced that her stalker had to be the cause. Of course, she could have set this up just early enough for the bus to be the next victim without remaining personally in the area, but Wednesday would be a failure of a detective if she didn’t at least check.

However, it was Agnes that spotted the message first, rushing to reach Wednesday and yanking her back by the elbow.

“What the hell?” Wednesday asked.

“Look up.”

Only a few metres from where the bus had been forced to stop, hanging from a high awning in front of some kind of office building, was a particularly gruesome sight. Wednesday made a lot of dark comments about the kinds of things that she found fun, but if forced to be honest, had never truly been one to torture random animals. She hunted, and enjoyed dissection and taxidermy. But the sight above her immediately brought to mind the vile murder of her pet scorpion, Nero.

A large dog, well-enough groomed aside from its wounds to have surely been someone’s pet, had been strung up like a carcass in a meat works. Wednesday didn’t know breeds well enough to identify its exact type, but it was broadly wolfish in the face, with predominantly sandy-blonde fur. Not at all unnerved at the sight of blood or gore, it was the sheer disrespect, gall, and pointlessness of the action that lit a roaring blaze of rage inside her chest.

That anger, however, was drowned out moments later by something much more akin to fear. All three girls seemed to notice the specific nature of this horrific message at the same time. Each of the creature’s ears had been painted with unmistakable colours.

One blue.

One pink.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Toil, Trouble, and Bubble

In which Wednesday catches the killer's first real mistake (and Enid catches something else...)

Asking Enid to, somewhat uncharacteristically, call the authorities, Wednesday made the most of the time until their arrival, scaling a downpipe on the building from which the message-in-canine-corpse-form was suspended. It was imperative that Wednesday had the opportunity to inspect the killer’s work personally before anyone else swooped in to deal with it, which would of course result in her being pushed out of the way. However, she also didn’t want to deal with the practical clean-up work right now. Cops could at least be put to good use disposing of the body and ensuring that the sidewalk was scrubbed of blood splatters.

The awning of the office building, the reception of which was thankfully closed given that it was Sunday, rose several metres above the sidewalk, and stretched not quite two metres out over it. Having to put her limited, amateur-bouldering skills to use, Wednesday climbed like some squirrel or opossum along the underside, thankful for her lightweight form. Finally able to grab onto the protrusion from which the rope holding the dog was suspended gave Wednesday a moment to breathe and solidify her grip. Heights did not bother her, but she’d hoped that if her demise was to be in the form of falling from a building, it would’ve been a much taller one and more a much more interesting reason. As it was, the direct threat to Enid in the form of the dog’s stained ears didn’t give her the option of the plummeting death right now. Wednesday was needed alive.

It was a delicate balance—literally—reaching out past any final handholds with a small switchblade that had been hidden up Wednesday’s sleeve. Emergency protection for any of the horrors that may have befallen them at the mall, and all that. Wednesday Addams was always prepared. The rope was thick enough that she had to saw a few times, especially without being able to put much pressure on it at arm’s length. Eventually struggling enough to need to try something else, Wednesday wrapped her legs around the girder as tight as she could, and swung her upper torso out to grab hold of the rope with her other hand, above where she was cutting.

The rope finally gave. But, as it did, Wednesday felt her vision grow foggy, and a shiver shot through her spine. Fighting the vision as best she could (though, that was always a futile thing), Wednesday could not maintain her grip with her legs.

Turns out that it was her time to plummet, after all. Battling with the psychic pull on her mind, Wednesday couldn’t even call out. Before she could even fully register what was happening, Wednesday landed with a forceful impact. But, surely concrete would’ve been less forgiving than…

Wednesday’s mind was suddenly overtaken with the vision itself, any resistance to its insistence knocked out of her as she collided with… whatever had been below. From a low-down perspective, filtered through a more limited range of colours than Wednesday was used to as a human, she watched the silhouette of a small woman approach. Presumably viewing the world as the now-deceased canine, Wednesday felt a growl rumble in her chest and throat, before being cut off as the dog noticed the smell of raw meat. The woman held out a chunk of flesh, red and bloody, and Wednesday cocked her head in interest, carefully creeping forward out of a classic pitched-roof-and-weatherboard dog house. It was dark, including in the home of which she was in the yard, the dog’s owners absent or asleep. Eyes back on the meat, mouth beginning to salivate, Wednesday barely caught the lower half of the killer’s face as she stepped close enough for the dog to be able to make out any details in the dark. She had a wide, pristine smile that was likely more unsettling to Wednesday than she knew her own toothy grins could be to others. Many of the other details that were fleetingly presented in the dog’s peripheral vision would allow Wednesday to rule out specific subjects, but also didn’t narrow her search down all that much. Skin that, especially seen in the dark, could’ve indicated someone anywhere from Caucasian to Hispanic to East-Asian. Shoulder-length hair that was likely not as black as her own, but perhaps dusty brown or even dark blonde.

Then a glint of something, and a sensation of… not pain, it was too quick for that. But pressure, and sharpness, in the back of her neck.

As Wednesday experienced the canine’s cruel and wasteful, but at least quick, last breaths, the vision pulled at her. Only, not to bring her out, but sucking whatever sense of self she maintained—not a physical body, but still some kind of awareness of where she was situated within the vision—toward the killer.

Without any further sense of transition or time passing, Wednesday was seeing out of the killer’s own eyes. But the scenes that she viewed, flashing in rapid succession before those foreign eyes, were themselves familiar. Wednesday didn’t know how she knew that this was the killer’s perspective, other than that there were small tells that this wasn’t her own. Subtle shifts in how light and colour were processed by the foreign eyes.

But the scenes themselves, Wednesday knew all of from her own life. At first, she considered that maybe this killer had been stalking her for much longer than she realised. Right back to the events that had her expelled from her last public school, and right the way through her time at Nevermore, up until a series of images from her time at the Addams family’s manor before moving out to come here to study. The perspective wasn’t from outside, however. It was even more familiar than that. Wednesday was… seeing her own experiences, her own memories, played back at her.

That seemed impossible, when she knew within the throes of the vision, that these were the killer’s eyes, not her own. And, not only were they her memories, but also her previous visions. Snippets of Crackstone and the Hyde, from before she knew Tyler’s hidden Outcast identity. The gravestone that had threatened Enid’s death, which Wednesday had almost given her own life to prevent. Enid’s wolf form running through the Canadian wilderness, as Wednesday and her Uncle Fester tracked down the transformed Alpha.

There was a shift in the vision again. So disoriented from seeing her life and visions as if she had been someone else, Wednesday didn’t realise at first that she was coming to. The awning from which she had fallen stretched above her, out of focus, partially blocked by a shadow of a face. She blinked. Enid.

But Enid was not looking at her. Did not see Wednesday flicker back in and out of consciousness. Wednesday could hear her friend—had Enid managed to catch her?—arguing furiously with someone outside of Wednesday’s limited area of view. She was practically berating them.

“I know you’d just love for it to be that easy. A bunch of Outcast girls to blame. But ask the bus driver. Check security cameras. We arrived here after. I called you! And I just know that, with all of the media attention on state mistreatment of Outcasts recently, and joint Normie-Outcast advocacy groups in front of the Senate, that your career would end right now if you make the wrong call. The ambulance is almost here. The paramedics can check her, but then you will let us go home. It was a psychic episode—don’t give me that look, I know that you know, however uncomfortable it makes you, that psychic abilities are real—not a psychotic one. Stop crowding her. Now!”

With a sense of pride blooming in her chest, despite still being pretty out of it, Wednesday felt unconsciousness crowd her mind again. Unable to keep her eyes open, Enid’s voice faded, and Wednesday’s world went black once more.

When Wednesday next awoke, she was back in their dorm again. Apparently, having to be carried back by her Werewolf friend, tucked into bed, and mothered (smothered, maybe?) until she regained consciousness was becoming a pattern, not just an isolated incident. Enid’s slightly extended claws raked carefully through her hair, and Wednesday let herself feign continued sleep for another few minutes, as once she admitted to herself and Enid that she was awake, such activity could not be allowed to continue.

“Hey, your heartrate and breathing shifted. Are you waking up?” Enid eventually asked. The voice wasn’t accusatory, calling Wednesday out on her tiny deception—besides, she genuinely was still dragging her way out of sleep—but merely gentle and considerate.

“Mmmm,” Wednesday mumbled, forcing her eyes open. Time had passed, as it had with her last vision. She had lost the entire afternoon.

“Stay horizontal, Wends. But now that you’re awake, you should drink and eat something. I’m sure being catatonic takes it out of you,” Enid said.

Ever thoughtful, a glass of water and a granola bar were already on hand. Not necessarily the most exciting meal, but one that Wednesday could stomach without much thinking, and would hopefully restore some of her energy before they could have a proper meal. Wednesday leveraged herself up ever so slightly, while still staying low to comply with Enid’s insistence that she didn’t stress her body by sitting, downing the water. The bar she ate more slowly, nibbling at the corner as her mind settled into the world of the living once more.

“What happened?” Wednesday managed to ask after another few minutes.

“You fell, when trying to get the… um, the dog down,” Enid explained.

“I remember falling. Did you catch me? What happened after?”

“She moved so fucking fast,” came Agnes’ voice. “Werewolf instincts are famous, but it was downright impressive even considering that.”

“Oh,” said Wednesday. “Thank you.”

“Well, of course! I wasn’t going to like, not rush over and catch you,” said Enid, as if her actions hadn’t literally prevented Wednesday’s brain matter from being spread all over the concrete downtown. “It was chaos, but I guess not all that much happened. I sent Agnes off a ways, invisible, in case there was major trouble and we needed her to go get backup. The cops arrived, and it was a bit tense, but I, well… Without going fully physically Wednesday, I channelled you a little and got them to back off.”

“I… I remember some of that,” said Wednesday. “You did good.”

It was such minor, vague praise, but apparently enough to make Enid blush. Wednesday supposed that she rarely gave active compliments, no matter how vague, often instead settling for double negatives. I don’t hate you. I don’t not not tolerate you. And so forth.

Pushing on, Enid continued, “The ambulance and someone from the city turned up not long after. You were cleared by the paramedics. You’ve got, like, two stitches, but they said it was just to be safe, and they’ll dissolve out on their own. Maybe a slight concussion, though since you didn’t actually hit anything other than, well, me—or, my arms, I guess—they said it could just be shock, or something to do with your visions that looks like concussion or shock. It wouldn’t be possible to tell until you woke up, but I assured them we’d take you straight to the infirmary here if anything seemed amiss.”

“I’m fine,” Wednesday protested. She briefly realised that a trip to the infirmary could get her close to Gabriella once more, if she wasn’t already discharged, but ultimately that wasn’t worth being trapped herself and fussed over by strangers.

“I know, I know,” said Enid. “That’s why you’re here, not there right now. The man from the city, not sure if he was like pound or waste or whatever, but got the… the body out of sight pretty quick, to reduce any panic. I don’t think we’ll be seeing it again.”

“That’s… probably fine,” said Wednesday.

“But isn’t it our best clue, and our only new lead?” Agnes asked.

“Lucky for me, I do not need my witnesses to be living nor human,” said Wednesday.

“That’s both creepy and cryptic,” Enid pointed out. By this point in their friendship, Wednesday knew that all that Enid meant by the statement was to use a little sarcasm to call her out on holding back information—to ‘share with the class,’ as Enid sometimes said—not anything more judgemental.

“I had a vision. Well, I guess that’s obvious. But, I saw the dog get attacked, and then… I really don’t know what to make of the rest,” said Wednesday. She did her best to explain, sticking to the direct facts of what she’d witnessed in her vision, not yet ready to offer an interpretation. However, Wednesday did make it clear that it wasn’t just memory or trauma, which she’d experienced in a vision-like way before, but felt very strongly that the repetition from her past visions and history was intentional. And that she knew, somehow, that it wasn’t her own eyes that been showing her these things.

Enid frowned, and Agnes merely watched on, unblinking as usual. Both were evidently confused and concerned. Enid said, after a long moment of silence, “Yeah, I’m not sure what to make of it, either. But, the message, if you can call it that. It wasn’t just me overthinking it, right? The dog was—” (she swallowed audibly) “—me, wasn’t it?”

Nodding slowly, Wednesday said, “Yes, I believe it was the killer extending the threat to include you. Apparently, I’ve either missed something that she’s trying to tell us, or simply not given her a satisfactorily dramatic reaction to her previous… ‘messages’.”

“Wends, we need to get some more food into you, help you clean up, and put you back to bed. However…” Enid trailed off.

“Out with it,” said Wednesday, a little snappishly. As per usual, she had little tolerance for hedging and hesitancy in conversation, though with Enid, that was often less in line with her general frustration toward everyone else, and more about needing or wanting to know Enid’s view on the matter—and that Enid was okay—before Wednesday’s own thoughts could settle.

“Well, last time I was threatened this seriously. You know, your premonition of my grave. You, well, you ultimately acted in what you thought was my best interest, and you did spend months of your life hunting me down and bringing me back to, um, to myself, I guess.”

“That is what I did, yes. And I would not do any less, faced with the same situation again,” Wednesday said.

“That’s the problem, though,” said Enid. “I… I need you to do different, this time. You can’t keep me in the dark. For one, I know about this threat this time. But, even if I didn’t, you need to trust me to handle myself in the face of danger. Like, not leave me in danger, obviously. But we’re better, safer, stronger together, Wends. Don’t rush off and try to fix this without me, or for me. Okay?”

“Enid, I—” Wednesday began. Embodying some of her own pet peeve for a moment, she hesitated. Sighing, Wednesday continued, “If faced with the exact same circumstances, acting on only the experience and knowledge I had at that point, I doubt that I could have made a different choice. It was how my brain was capable of processing and acting on my need to protect you. However, this is not that situation. Because I have the knowledge, now, of what happens when I push you away, supposedly for your own safety. It is never a better outcome. You’ve saved my sorry skin as many times, if not more, than I have yours. Not that it’s about paying you back. I simply cannot envisage succeeding against the forces of evil without your assistance. Sure, a regular, Normie serial killer is a walk in the park. Happy to take on one of those if you’re away for the weekend. But I have yet to survive supernatural evil without you, and I am confident now that I shouldn’t try.”

“That’s—well, it’s a pretty long-winded way of saying that you’re sorry and you’ve grown as a person, but I accept,” Enid said, grinning down at Wednesday with a mocking glint in her eyes.

Wednesday simply rolled her own eyes in return.

“If you two are done,” Agnes interrupted.

“It is important to debrief after major incidents in a case, and to ensure that all members of the investigation are on the same page so that they can trust one another going forward,” Wednesday said.

“Yeah, Agnes. We’re partners in this investigation, and we trust one another,” Enid said. The tease in her voice was back, which Wednesday had been noticing more and more recently, but still didn’t know what it was between Enid and Agnes that caused such comments, sounding like they dripped with meaning but holding none that Wednesday could uncover.

Reminding them, which Wednesday realised she did often forget, that she was still a much younger teenager, Agnes stuck her tongue out at Enid. After getting a sneer back from the older girl, Agnes said, “Well, come on, then. You mentioned dinner, and I’m starving. If your partner can stand, then get your partner up, and bring your partner to dinner.”

“We could order in?” Enid suggested, ignoring whatever implications that Agnes was trying to make. A detective’s work was never done, sure, even over dinner, but Wednesday thought that the emphasis on the professional aspects of their friendship was overkill.

“We did that the last two nights, and it sounds like it’s almost all you ever eat,” Agnes countered. “I’m here to hang out and pretend I’m a college student for the week. Surely it’s faster, easier, cheaper to go to the cafeteria?”

“Money is no barrier,” Wednesday said.

At the same time, Enid replied, “I think you’ll regret your choice, but there’s only one way for us to prove that.”

After a decidedly lacklustre dinner served by the university’s limited weekend staff, which Agnes admitted was inferior even to Nevermore’s more bougie fare, Wednesday did find herself needing to crash again. Ever since regaining some degree of control—or, at least, managing to not be completely out of control—with her psychic abilities again, the stress of them on her energy was still high. Whether she’d damaged something permanently, or if she still had some kind of block to fully accessing her visions, Wednesday wasn’t sure. Her mother thought that things were largely better, but Morticia Addams had a very different experience with her psychic senses despite mother and daughter both technically being vision-oriented Outcasts. And Wednesday, though her relationship with her mother had significantly improved during and since her second year at Nevermore, was still not always the most forthcoming to Morticia’s invasion of her personal space, physically or psychically.

Monday mornings typically came with both Literature and Chemistry lectures, essentially back to back. However, Enid had the foresight (even if Wednesday initially grumbled about this) to obtain a note from the paramedics explaining Wednesday’s situation, and need for continued rest. Though they were relatively confident after Wednesday having been fine, other than tired, at dinner the night before, because concussion was a risk, Enid and Agnes had teamed up against Wednesday to convince her to stay in bed. Agnes was to be watchdog while Enid sourced breakfast—refusing to provide coffee, which was the very worst part of the experience—then they both ‘supervised’ all morning until Enid had to go to her early afternoon Media course.

However, the morning wasn’t all that painful in the end. Lack of caffeine aside. The three of them thoroughly documented Wednesday’s visions about the killer to date, and compiled the best description of her that they could from the limited glimpses and descriptions. They spent a significant amount of time theorising what ‘stealing the future,’ from Gabriella’s message, might mean, as well as whether the threat aimed at Enid had further significance beyond riling Wednesday up, and what the vision-within-a-vision experience through the killer’s eyes could possibly be trying to tell them. That first task, putting as much as they could in writing, felt like a productive step forward. Though it wasn’t as much progress as Wednesday would’ve liked, especially since it had now been over a month since she first saw Adam Wednesday’s grave, it nevertheless demonstrated that some real progress had been made, and gave them a relatively clear outline of the nature of the case and the kind of foe they were up against. The remainder of their discussions, however, felt purely speculative, and Wednesday was no closer to being confident what the messages and visions meant than she had the day before.

After Enid had left for class, giving it a good few minutes for Agnes to get a little bored without the chattier of the two roommates to distract her, Wednesday stood and stretched. Though Agnes might have, in many ways, possessed more in common with Wednesday, the two of them alone said little unless they were actively plotting something, and the conversation had petered out with Enid’s departure. That meant, one, that Agnes would start looking for a distraction soon, and two, that she would be naturally predisposed to expect her time alone with Wednesday to involve mischief.

“Can we go for a bit of a walk?” Wednesday asked, keeping her tone purely neutral.

Unfortunately, Agnes had been around her too long, and wasn’t buying it. “WWET, Wednesday? What Would Enid Think. We are not going to chase this investigation any further until she is back.”

“You used to be fun,” Wednesday replied.

“No, you thought I was infuriating but had utility, and then tolerable still with utility, and now back to infuriating, if only for this moment, but manipulatable. You’re probably right about most of that, except for the very last point. I’m standing firm.”

“What if I promise on my brother’s grave that we won’t leave campus, and won’t do anything directly related to the case?” Wednesday asked.

“What, as if Pugsley’s grave holds any weight in such a promise,” said Agnes. “You will allow me to vet a full itinerary, which I will text to Enid, and we will not deviate from it. You will put your promise in writing, in our group chat, in response, and it will be on the grave of your latest manuscript. I will bury it where you cannot find it again, and I know you only have the one copy, if you defy me.”

“You’re, what, eight year’s old, little psycho? Since when did you give orders?”

“Since they were actually Enid’s orders, which I know you won’t ignore. Admit it, you’re whipped,” Agnes replied.

“Whipped? I guess that’s an appropriate metaphor for her discipline style,” Wednesday admitted. “Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

“Yes, a very appropriate metaphor,” Agnes said, rolling her eyes.

In the end, the ‘itinerary’ wasn’t particularly long. It had one item, and when Wednesday explained to Agnes what she wanted to do, Agnes actually relented and didn’t send it to Enid. However, Wednesday was still required to write out her oath that they would not get up to any trouble on their casual walk, or else forfeit all documentation on Viper’s latest escapades.

A few minutes later, Wednesday and Agnes stood outside of Psi House. The offensively Greek-inspired sorority accommodation at which Yoko and Divina resided.

“Addams. And the little… sorry, and DeMille,” Yoko greeted after another Fang that had answered the door yelled up at her. “Aren’t you still meant to be at Nevermore, Agnes? To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“I have a favour to ask,” Wednesday said.

“Of course,” came Divina’s voice from behind Yoko, who then wriggled under her girlfriend’s arm to give Wednesday and Agnes an equally harsh stare to Yoko.

“Look, Wednesday. You often mean, um, if not well, then at least not the worst. I know you wouldn’t ask if you didn’t think it mattered. But, would it kill you to start with small talk, for once? Pretend you’re happy to see us?” Yoko asked.

“Yes. It would be a most unpleasant death,” said Wednesday with a deadpan.

“Fiiine,” Yoko said, drawing the word out with an eyeroll. “What insane activity are you asking of us this time?”

“Well, it’s Enid,” Wednesday began.

“Is she okay?” Divina all but shouted, pushing forward from Yoko to grab Wednesday’s shoulders.

Ignoring the breach of her personal space, for now, Wednesday nodded. “The only torture that she is currently experiencing is Media. But there’s a chance that she won’t stay safe. I need your help.”

“Wednesday Addams asking for help?” Yoko said.

“You literally just accused me of only ever talking to you when I needed help,” Wednesday pointed out.

Yoko sighed. “Yeah, okay, fine. I’ll cool it. You could’ve texted, but I guess I appreciate that you showed face? Anyway, if it’s Enid, of course we’ll be there. But, um, Addams… have you at least told her about this first?”

It was Wednesday’s turn to give a loud sigh in return. She pushed Divina off, and said, “Yes, mother. Enid is entirely aware of the danger and its context. The only thing that she is not aware of is that I’m asking you to… urgh, join our investigation.”

“Any reason for this particular secrecy?” Divina asked.

“Because I’m still me?” Wednesday suggested.

“That tracks,” said Yoko. “Does it have to be now now?”

“Her lecture ends at three, so if you have, I don’t know, noses to powder or amphetamines to take. You’ve got time. But I insist that you come with us today. The killer is making moves more and more frequently.”

“Killer, right, of course,” said Divina. “I guess you can come in while we powder our noses and dose up on our study drugs.”

The group of four began walking back to Gertrude Hall shortly before Enid’s class was scheduled to finish. In fact, as they made their way up the stairs to the top-floor dorm room, the sound of quick and eager footsteps appeared behind them, and Enid had caught up by the time they had reached the top. Her reaction upon seeing her friends was loud and obnoxious, but Wednesday took that as a good sign. For all that Enid continued to insist that it was Wednesday who was her best friend, and had stuck by Wednesday’s side through many dangerous situations, Wednesday knew that she didn’t exactly inspire the greatest sense of calm. Her obsessive approach to her investigations, and frequent lack of sense of self-preservation, often only made Enid more anxious. Having backup would help.

Besides, Yoko and Divina could be backup in more than one sense. A near-immortal undead and a mind controller could come in handy. The small crowd of (mostly ex-) Nevermore students in the hall leading to Wednesday and Enid’s door was not, however, the most surprising thing, even if Wednesday couldn’t imagine having actively sought any of her present company out when she had first arrived at the Outcast school.

Rather, it was the sixth figure, who she spotted crying silently, curled into her knees right outside the dorm room door. From a few paces away, with her face hidden, it once again felt like Wednesday was essentially looking at her doppelganger. She looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching, fear in her eyes.

“Wednesday?” Gabriella asked, still looking terrified but her immediate nervous reaction fading when she recognised who was approaching.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: The Six Musketeers

In which Wednesday considers the effectiveness of actually having... friends?

Having pushed Agnes’ air mattress to one side, and generally rearranging their desk chairs and other mismatched furniture, after a few minutes a makeshift circle of seats was created, and each of the girls—occupants and guests—took a place. This was more people than Wednesday had allowed into her personal spaces in a long time. In her tower at home, though she had a reasonable total floor area, it was spread over multiple levels of small floors, with narrow staircases between (and even a ladder to the very top space). Besides, her family knew that crowding her in her own rooms would put their very lives at risk. At Nevermore, since she and Enid had… talked some things through, Wednesday hadn’t been required to put up with more than one or two other guests at any given time. Their agreement, which Wednesday presumed still applied here: Wednesday would tolerate invitees, but would be given advanced warning where possible; Enid would limit who she invited so that there were never over five people total in the room.

Given that Wednesday was the one to ask most of their current visitors—Yoko and Divina directly, and she guessed that Gabriella counted as an indirect invitation from the other day—she swallowed her discomfort as best she could.

Enid had been softly (for her) chattering with Yoko and Divina since spotting them on the stairwell, but otherwise conversation between the full group stayed uninitiated. Unfortunately, that implied that they were all waiting for Wednesday. Being the one to summon them, unusual in and of itself, there was clearly some anticipation—whether curiosity or fear or both—that created a tension in the room.

“I suspect you are all wondering why I have gathered you here today,” Wednesday began, looking to each of the other five girls in turn, making an acceptable amount of eye contact before moving on.

Yoko snorted, and Enid grinned. The former asked, “Is that a pop-culture reference, Addams?”

“I concede that it is a line lifted from Agatha Christie, not an original phrase, but I was not under the impression that she was still considered culturally popular,” Wednesday replied.

“You know that she doesn’t know memes or anything else chronically online,” Enid pointed out.

“The social evolutionary concept or the images… you know what? Never mind,” said Wednesday. “Dramatic moment ruined, I shall be candid instead. As Enid, Agnes, and Gabriella know… this is Gabriella, by the way. There is a stalker, killer, et cetera on campus. Targeting me, specifically, but has attacked Gabriella. The most recent development—which in addition to Yoko and Divina, you are not aware of, Gabriella—is a direct threat to Enid. The bus that the three of us were on yesterday had its tires shredded, and pulled to a stop beneath the corpse of a large, golden dog, hanging from a building, with parts of its fur painted in pink and blue. So, while not in so many words, I think you can all see why this leaves no ambiguity as to the intention of the threat.”

“You don’t seem stoked. Wouldn’t you usually be thrilled at this kind of thing?” Divina asked.

“In some circumstances, or perhaps another version of me, yes. But this killer has been toying with me and my enjoyment has been slowly eroded into pure frustration. To explicitly promise harm toward Enid, on top of this, makes it unacceptable.”

“Figures. Poking the bear via you probs assured this killer’s doom, huh, Enid?” Yoko smiled with what Enid would probably describe as a ‘shit-eating’ grin.

“It was pretty awful, Yokes,” said Enid, more somber than her usual in responding to her friend. “If Wends hadn’t collapsed in a vision, almost cracking open her skull—which, you know, traumatising in its own right—I think I wouldn’t have managed to not fall apart. Like, not just the threat itself, but it was someone’s pet, I’m sure. Wends is right. She’s mocking us.”

“She?” Yoko asked.

For the first time, other than quietly thanking Wednesday as she’d pulled her to her feet and into the room a few minutes ago, Gabriella spoke up. “Some psychopath with a vendetta against your goth friend. Thinks Wednesday ‘stole her future’ or some shit.”

“And we have reason to believe that she’s one of us. Well, not just an Outcast. Another psychic,” Wednesday explained, and gave some brief details about her latest vision, and how they seemed to be filtered through the killer’s eyes.

“Wait,” Gabriella said. “You’re all Outcasts?”

“Well, we’re all friends from high school, mainly,” said Divina, with a dry tone. “Just happened to be an all-Outcast school.”

“I—sorry, I’m not, like, you know… I don’t have a problem with Outcasts!” Gabriella spluttered a bit as she tried to explain herself. “I’ve just never really met any. So I was a little surprised.”

“Turning invisible in your room didn’t tip you off?” Wednesday asked.

“I was, admittedly, a little out of it. Also, that was only you… wait, but you said psychic…” said Gabriella.

“That’d be me,” Agnes explained. She almost seemed playful as she popped in and out of sight.

“Between the fact that it was super normal at Nevermore, and that a lot of Normies find it uncomfortable, and that it can be a bit insensitive to go around asking, we don’t tend to actually stop and explain what each of our unique deal is when meeting people. Some Outcasts aren’t so fortunate to be able to blend in, such as Gorgons, but most of us just find it easier to take advantage of being ‘Normie-passing,’ as it were,” Enid explained. “There’s like a whole debate between ‘Outcast pride’ versus keeping a low profile. If pushed, I think we’d all be proud. And no one here is actively hiding anything. But I guess that most Normies don’t expect you to be an Outcast, and it’s easier not to correct them. Like with any other hidden minority, I guess.”

“And does this—the whole, well, serial killer business—is it something that you have to deal with often?” Gabriella asked.

“Yes,” Wednesday said, stating it as a pretty simple fact given her experiences.

However, she got some kind of intense or confused or amused look from the four other Outcast girls. Yoko was the one to give voice to the reaction, and said, “It’s really not an Outcast thing. Just a Wednesday thing. Danger of being her… friend? If you can call us that.”

“I’m content with acquaintance for you and your girlfriend. You are officially upgraded from ‘not intolerable stranger’,” Wednesday conceded.

“That’s… good?” said Yoko.

“What are we going to do about the stalker?” Enid asked, switching them back to the original topic of conversation. “I presume you either have a plan that requires Yokes and Divi, or you don’t and therefore came to the surprisingly rational conclusion that we need backup?”

“Rude,” was all that Wednesday replied, though she somewhat remarkably didn’t really feel much sting when that kind of comment came from Enid. Several of the other girls quietly chuckled. She resented that, however. “Unfortunately, I do not have a plan for catching the killer. She seems to know me remarkably well, for someone I don’t even recognise. Half a face doesn’t mean much when it comes to a stranger, but I’d like to think I’d recognise the mouth and chin of someone in my life. Anyway. What we do need to plan for, and is the purpose of this gathering, is security arrangements. For Enid, was my initial intention, but potentially Gabriella now too. And, more broadly, likely for everyone with a connection to me who attends this university. So, Yoko and Divina, I was planning to ask you to support me in ensuring that Enid—and Gabriella—are never entirely alone or unaccounted for, and it also might be in your best interests also. I do not know who she might come after next.”

This immediately turned the entire room tense. Not that it had been particularly jovial before, but it certainly hadn’t been heavy with this stark sense of what was at stake.

“Right. I’m… hardly happy to hear that it’s this serious,” Yoko said. “But, if it is, then I agree. No person in this room should be without a ‘buddy’ for the foreseeable future. No idea what kind of Outcast this killer might be, though signs point to a seer, but if a vampire knows anything, it’s that a lone target is an easy target.”

“A… a vampire?” Gabriella asked in a quiet voice, eyes going wide.

Yoko gave her a fang-filled grin and a sardonic wink. “Better to have one on your team, though, babe.”

“I have taken the liberty of pulling your timetables. Well, Agnes and I have. I am still torn on avoiding becoming a complete slave to technology versus expanding into the new and exciting world of cyber-crime and online stalking,” explained Wednesday. “Though, I’ll have to find a copy of yours, Gabriella. But adding another person should only make arranging things simpler. As it currently stands, there should be no time at which all of us are expected to be in completely different locations with no flexibility. Except for Gabriella at night.”

The newest acquaintance in the group did not look pleased at that, but didn’t immediately speak up with concern or a solution. Wednesday didn’t entirely know how to solve that particular concern, since she wasn’t about to invite a near-stranger into the room with her and Enid. It was already pushing her comfort enough to have Agnes sleeping here, who she actually admitted that she could probably call a friend.

With Agnes’ situation on Wednesday’s mind, the youngest girl spoke up, asking, “What about me, after my break?”

Wednesday had thought of this too. “Depending on your preference, you have two choices: You can return to Nevermore with a trusted adult, and I will contact administration about the threat, but I suspect that the killer will maintain her focus here. Alternatively, if we cannot resolve these matters within the week and you do not feel safe travelling back or staying at Nevermore, I will inform the administration that you will need to stay here for your own protection, and you will continue to be part of our rotation of… ‘buddies,’ as Tanaka so sickeningly put it.”

The only response from Agnes was a small, serious nod.

“Right, well. Please exchange contact details. And, as much as it pains me to say this, if everyone could allow location services to be accessed by the others in this room. That makes my skin crawl, personally, and may also create risk should one of us become compromised. However, I think that the benefit of being able to find anyone else in this room on short notice outweighs the danger and my discomfort. I will distribute a revised plan for how we will manage to prevent anyone from being alone, as well as the best descriptions that we have so far about the nature of this threat and how it might be possible to identify our enemy. Be careful about how outwardly suspicious you act, as we do not want to force her hand too strongly—as much as I would love to force her out into the open—but also be cautious. I am open to suggestions about other proactive avenues that we could take, and if there is anything that you require to carry out keeping yourselves and one another safe, consider money no object. We will continue to discuss this and adapt our plans as needed over the coming week.”

With that, Wednesday essentially dismissed the group. The other three girls visiting this room stuck around for a while, however, which she decided to tolerate for Enid’s sake. Where Wednesday found solace in solitude, and knew that she could survive if isolated, it was just as important for Enid to feel psychologically supported as physically protected. Personally, Wednesday had not assigned herself a ‘buddy’ (they really needed a better word for that… ‘partner’ or ‘companion’?) that wasn’t either Enid or Agnes at either point, and primarily bothered to include herself for their sakes. Bringing Yoko and Divina in was necessary to fill the gaps when Wednesday needed to attend class, after Agnes had potentially departed depending on her choice, so that someone could look out for Enid.

The image of the painted dog swaying slightly as it hung from the awning continued to surface in Wednesday’s mind. Only, her memory was already warping the canine form into something larger. A blonde wolf, which had come to her defence so many times in the past. Wednesday could not let that future come to pass.

After all, in Wednesday’s mind, it simply wasn’t possible for the future to exist without Enid in it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: ‘Behind you, a distraction!’

In which Wednesday works to distract Enid from recent events

Wednesday Addams, who spent her summer vacations getting caught by serial killers—only to turn the tables, traumatise them in return, and then bring them in, closing cases so cold that they were Antarctic—found herself genuinely daunted by the prospect of the upcoming week.

The plan to ensure that everyone (or rather, Enid, and the others merely by extension) remained safe from the stalker/killer/dog-murderer’s schemes did not involve Wednesday subjecting Enid to her Chemistry and Literature classes. Despite her persona’s inclination toward cruelty, Wednesday was not that cruel. Apparently, however, she might have been masochistic, as Wednesday had assigned herself the responsibility of accompanying Enid to all of her Media and Theatre lectures and workshops. Though, at least those Wednesday could hopefully deceive herself into tolerating as they were technically ‘learning environments,’ even if not her preferred subject matter. On top of Enid’s classes, however, there was downtime to fill.

Only weeks ago, Wednesday had bemoaned the incompatibility of their schedules, which had complicated their options for eating lunch together or leaving at the same time in the morning. She genuinely preferred significant periods of solitude, but at those ritualistic touch points during her day, Wednesday had grown used to Enid’s presence over their time together at Nevermore, and the moment that Enid was back in her life here at university, her brain’s obsession with routine kicked back in and struggled to accept when their old cadence was broken by their new commitments. Now, despite their schedules being unchanged, Wednesday was concerned that they’d have entirely too much time together. Enid didn’t do ‘comfortable silences.’ She filled the space with her train of thought, every observation and emotion. This applied whether they were in public or in their room, sitting still or on the move, actively engaged in an activity or passively killing time.

And, apparently, Wednesday’s brilliant intellect and razor-sharp instincts, when presented with the need to provide Enid with around-the-clock protection, had concluded that the best solution was to be personally present for the rainbow Werewolf’s every move. Enid was by far the strangest hyperfixation that Wednesday had ever experienced, and given her proclivity for stalking serial killers, that was saying something. Still, at least Wednesday could claim that, beneath all of the nauseating pastel, Enid Sinclair was a terrifying beast. If pressed, she was fairly certain that she could make a compelling argument that Enid was not that different from her other obsessions: innocent to the world, twisted underneath. Of course, even in thinking such things to herself, Wednesday could feel her own self-awareness that this wasn’t why Enid occupied so much of her mind. Did normal people actually go through life thinking this much about their friends, and not about escape routes and ambush locations and the telegraphed tells and weaknesses of strangers?

At least Wednesday was still thinking about all of those things. She just found herself caring about them not for herself, but ensuring that Enid had somewhere to flee if necessary, that Enid wasn’t about to get jumped, that Enid wasn’t being tailed by strangers.

Which brought her to the Tuesday afternoon handover.

Tuesday mornings were comparatively slow for Wednesday, with only Chemistry late morning rather than back-to-back lectures. Since Agnes was still around this week, she tagged along and sat invisibly on her phone to ensure that she didn’t get called on by Dr. Balinski. They’d taken the time before Chemistry to meet Yoko, Divina, and Gabriella (who had tagged along with the Fang and Siren at the end of the previous evening) for coffee, and Enid had gone with Divina to a Music seminar while Yoko and Gabriella had discovered—only thanks to Wednesday’s plan—that they shared a very similar degree programme, and therefore both had Human Geography on Tuesday mornings. Despite sounding like a lot of logistics to manage, it had honestly ended up as a pretty normal social interaction. Which means, for Wednesday, it was its own unique torture, but not significantly more horrifying than regularly being dragged along for coffee with Enid’s other friends, which had been happening about once each week so far. It was strange to have the addition of Gabriella, but though she didn’t have an Outcast connection with the other five girls, she was still at the same stage of life as they were and, if only because everyone else on the planet was more capable socially than Wednesday, the others seamlessly welcomed her into their time and spaces.

Chemistry completed, Wednesday stood directly outside of the open door to Divina’s Music seminar, arms crossed impatiently as, despite the hour having ticked over, she could still hear the obnoxious prattle of the students inside discussing how classical orchestral and piano music had become such a significant influence in the composition of Japanese Anime soundtracks. And, apparently, Enid had found herself right at home in the class that she wasn’t even taking, her energetic voice piping up several times to add her opinion. At least the ‘distraction’ part of the plan seemed to be working…

Once Enid and Divina finally strolled out of the room, acting like they hadn’t just wasted a full seven minutes of Wednesday’s time, the Siren gave Enid an enthusiastic hug and then nodded at Wednesday. It was a gesture of understanding and gratitude, entirely more familiar than most of Wednesday’s previous interactions with the girl.

Apparently filled with enough energy that she couldn’t contain herself, Enid bounded over to Wednesday and stopped just shy of hugging her. But very much standing in her personal space. Wednesday gave her roommate a harsh stare, which wasn’t that different from her glares of dismissal or rejection, but Enid had learned to read the nuance in Wednesday’s otherwise dead eyes, and clearly decided that she read tolerance there. Throwing her arms around Wednesday’s shoulders, Enid was allowed an extended ten seconds of contact before Wednesday disentangled herself and began to direct them out of the building.

“How was class?” Wednesday asked.

“Divi’s music degree seems so cool! And, like, she hardly even needs it, with how good she already is, but I guess that’s like you and your classes. Here for the formal recognition, though she’s also here for the social life, unlike others,” Enid replied, ending on a teasing tone.

“And the tutor tolerated your presence?”

“Tolerated? He thought it was the sweetest thing ever that our friend group were all looking out for each other while some ‘difficult personal stuff’ was happening in our lives. And also started spit balling about encouraging more students to do interdisciplinary drop ins to increase their interest and well-roundedness. I’m invited back for all future classes, and could even earn an audit certificate out of it!”

“When I sneak into lectures, it’s always: Why are you here, Ms. Addams? It’s inappropriate to take part in coroner sciences without being enrolled in this course, Ms. Addams…” Wednesday responded.

“You’ve just got to show them how enthusiastic you are about their topic! But, in like a friendly way, not in an arrogant or scary way,” said Enid.

“Maybe that works for music, but I feel less certain about forensics.”

“Have you tried smiling? Like, actual smiling?”

“Take a wild guess…”

The pair wandered to one of the campus’ more tolerable food vendors, a caravan that served Turkish and Greek meals (which mainly just meant kebabs), but seemed to disappear to greener pastures on weekends. Enid got on famously with the owner, ingratiating herself with the small amount of Greek that she knew from an interest into her heritage when young. Though, upon first seeing this, when Wednesday gave her complete order in fluent, albeit classical, Greek, she got more of a blank stare than an enthusiastic welcome. But coming here about once per week had become something of a habit, and the vendor politely greeted Wednesday so long as Enid was in attendance. Which, to be honest, was about the right level of social interaction for Wednesday to appreciate, with anything additional being far too intimate.

“We have almost two hours until your Theatre lecture, then enough time for a quick dinner, before Agnes rejoins me for knife-throwing and Gabriella has agreed to tag along with you for dance. I have an itinerary for how we can spend our otherwise unstructured time, which you’ll be pleased to know that I compiled digitally…” Wednesday trailed off, pulling out her phone.

Looking over her shoulder, Enid gave out an amused huff, and then began reading from Wednesday’s list. “‘Curricular library research. Psychic meditation. Bolt-hole scouting. Extracurricular library research.’ Not that that doesn’t sound super fun, but I’d hoped to maybe wander around the public gardens just over the road behind campus? They sometimes have little stalls and street performers and improv theatre and stuff. The weather is nice enough today that there’s surely something to see!”

“The weather is awful, Enid,” Wednesday corrected, gesturing to the piercingly blue sky and dismal absence of clouds. “And that hardly sounds like an intellectually productive use of our time.”

“Completely honest, Wends. You won’t hurt my feelings. If one of the two of us needed a little more academic support than the other, who would it be?”

Wednesday frowned, sensing a trap, but decided to play along for now. “You…”

“Correct. So, in the event that we decided to spend some time studying together, would we end up both working on your topics, or mine?”

“Yours…”

“And what am I studying?”

“Media Studies, including electives in Media Law and Journalism, along with Theatre (Performance) and Theatre (Theory), toward a double major in Arts,” Wednesday said.

“That’s… more detailed an answer than necessary, but yes. My current performance module is in improvisational practices within structured performances, and I’m planning to write my next essay on using dynamic environmental factors to bring life to static scripts. Does that sound like a sufficiently interesting and academic topic?”

“It does… given the discipline, at least…”

A mischievous grin spread right the way across Enid’s face. She became radiant, in the way that many religions described divine messengers as radiant in the sense that they were terrifying. She said, “Oh, unrelated thought. Wouldn’t it be useful for me, you know, academically, if there were examples of improvisational theatre using dynamic environments that I could visit, from which I could draw inspiration and practical case studies, especially if they happened to be taking place in nearby locations like, say, to pick somewhere random, local public gardens?”

“Enid Sinclair, it would appear that I have influenced you more than is good for my own wellbeing. That was utterly evil. I acquiesce, if only because I cannot deny that you have won… this time,” Wednesday conceded. “But, if anyone tries to draw me into their antics, they will lose limbs.”

“That sounds like a particularly dynamic environmental factor that they’ll have to learn to adjust to!” Enid said with a dark chuckle. She offered her elbow, saying, “Shall we?”

Not one to back down, from what was clearly still a competition of wits and resolve, Wednesday took Enid’s arm with a vice grip to demonstrate her displeasure, and allowed herself to be led across campus and into the gardens.

There were a grand total of three hawkers and/or performing vagrants to be discovered throughout the (actually quite impressively) large gardens. Wednesday noted that maintenance was a little subpar—the paths were clear of interesting roots, vines, or other obstacles and none of the flowers had been appropriately de-headed—but the space made up in quantity what it lacked in polish. Near the entrance, there was an elderly lady selling imitation animals represented in a disfigured manner using crochet (Wednesday tried to steer them right past, but Enid forced them to stop and ended up buying two—a dog and a blackbird, for some reason). Tucked within a semi-obscured glade surrounded by hedges, they found a mime (Wednesday at least appreciated the volume and colour scheme, but when the mime beckoned for Enid to participate in his next performance, and Enid tried to drag Wednesday in with her, and Wednesday took the opportunity to show the mime one of her hidden knives, both performer and crowd were suddenly eager for the entertainment to come to an end). Finally, there was something of a maze toward the middle of the gardens, where a scavenger hunt was being held. Children (and Enid) could take a list of items that could either be found naturally in the maze, or were hidden there, and could win a prize if they completed the hunt within forty-five minutes.

The list included the following:

Something round given by the earth. It wasn’t exactly spherical, but the squirrel skull that Wednesday spotted under a bush was fairly round, and came from the earth in the sense that all things came from dust and to dust they would return.

A message most mysterious. They found a bucket tied to a lamppost filled with slips of paper that bore various inane riddles, which Wednesday doubted was mysterious enough. In the end, she carved off a section of bark from a tree into which someone had scratched a phone number for unknown purposes.

Something green that provides its owner with a source of energy. Wednesday fortunately carried a piece of vintage uranium glass for luck, which glowed green when lit from behind, so she figured it was close enough.

The brightest colour you can find. Assuming that Enid herself didn’t count, Wednesday spotted a Cardinal, which she convinced Enid to use her enhanced Werewolf dexterity to snatch from a branch, and Wednesday decided to kill as humanely as possible given that this was a children’s event.

Five things of the same length. A box of discarded cigarettes, with six left so Wednesday tossed one, conveniently presented itself.

Something that represents change. Knowing that most of the world only ever changed when faced with fear or pain, finding a representative object proved more of a challenge than the rest of the list so far. But when a stray thorn made a gash in Wednesday’s arm as she pushed through some branches to cut their return trip out of the maze short, she decided that, even if she couldn’t hand it over, the mark represented a very minimal form of pain and danger, but one that others would likely fear more than Wednesday herself.

“Oh, that’s, um… You can keep those! We’re not, ah, collecting the items, just verifying that you have them,” the middle-aged woman waiting at the entrance to the maze explained. Which was odd, because she had a box of leaves and sticks and scraps of paper just behind her, but Wednesday figured that those must have been the unacceptable items. “Oh, and, right. Your prize… Your prize is the spoils of your curiosity!”

Thinking that such a prize was obtainable without such an easy list of items to gather, Wednesday was slightly annoyed, but hadn’t really expected anything more. Enid, however, growled deep in her throat, letting out a noise that originated more with her wolf side than her human voice, gesturing at another box tucked behind the woman.

“Of course, silly me! Forgive me. Discovering the fruits of your curiosity is only the main reward, but for such a… creative set of items, here, you can have…” the woman trailed off, rummaging in the box, and pulling out a little paper bag. She finished lamely, her smile to toothsome to be genuine, “This!”

This was apparently enough to delight Enid, and Wednesday was simply thankful that she hadn’t been required to give over her uranium glass for Enid’s acquisition (and had gained a new rodent skull as a bonus). Somehow, more than an hour had passed since they entered the gardens, so the pair decided to head back to campus. Wednesday admitted that tormenting mimes and collecting esoteric trinkets wasn’t a bad way to spend an afternoon with Enid, and that there was even something pleasant about strolling through such unbridled nature (though she still couldn’t get over how ridiculous it was that the flowers still had all of their heads).

Enid was humming softly to herself as she inspected her prize, which turned out to be mainly stickers, a few pieces of knock-off-brand candy, and a flyer for some religious or sporting or other social organisation—Wednesday didn’t bother to look hard enough to confirm—that the woman had been representing. The stickers immediately went on Enid’s water bottle, the candy in her mouth, and the flyer in a paper recycling bin once they were back on campus.

“Thanks for the cute little friend-date, Wends,” Enid said, cutting through what Wednesday had thought was a comfortable silence between them.

“Your safety is paramount, and your companionship is the least intolerable of all things living or undead,” replied Wednesday. “However, following that expenditure of time, social energy, and colour tolerance, would you mind if we sat quietly until it is time for us to attend your next class?”

Shuffling just slightly closer, until their knees were almost touching (but definitely not actually in contact), Enid nodded. The affirmative gesture seemed content, despite Enid’s preference for conversation, and Wednesday was pleased that they had this opportunity to now be engaging in one of Wednesday’s favourite pastimes together (that is, complete stillness and silence), having just filled Enid’s cup with pastimes that suited her.

Later than day, Wednesday and Agnes met up with Enid and Gabriella after their respective extracurriculars. Yoko and Divina would join them most evenings, but had some kind of event at their sorority today, but assured the others that they would stick together as a pair the whole time, until they would come to collect Gabriella for the night later. Ordering yet more takeout, the four girls headed back to Gertrude Hall.

Wednesday and Gabriella walked almost side-by-side, just incidentally, neither bothering to try to strike up conversation. Ahead of them, Enid and Agnes were chatting amicably, about nothing in particular, but, seeing as she didn’t have to actively participate, Wednesday decided that didn’t mind their voices as background noise to her walk.

As they reached the main entrance to Gertrude Hall, Agnes asked Enid, “How did today go?”

A little more quietly, perhaps to prevent Wednesday from hearing, but failing to do so if that was the intention, Enid replied, “Well, I think. The main thing we did was visit the gardens, other than class. She seemed sufficiently distracted from everything going on, I think, so I’d call that a success. Keeping Wends mentally occupied while there’s still almost nothing that we can do to catch her stalker is a good idea. Just unsure how we’ll keep it up all week, but one day at a time, right?”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: Enforced Bonding Time

In which Wednesday is subjected to spending time with Enid's friends

The following day was typically Wednesday and Enid’s best opportunity to get a proper lunch together, and their new routine had become taking the time to walk into town and going to a real establishment. Neither had class directly on either side of noon. Enid had compared it to a ‘mini-weekend’ right in the middle of the week when it was needed most.

Said routine would not be going ahead today. Was nothing sacred?

Instead, Enid had apparently become excited at the prospect of endless and constant socialisation, as she interpreted Wednesday’s security schedule. The day before had shown both of them that, perhaps, though there was still physical danger about, they could each be trusted to not spiral too far. Claiming interest in a ‘girl’s day’—which was surely meaningless when everyone on Wednesday’s carefully planned roster identified as female—Enid had absconded with Yoko. One of the few classes that Gabriella and Yoko didn’t share was booked in the middle of the day, and Agnes had agreed to shadow their new Normie acquaintance. Though the principle of the ‘buddy system’ was still in place, Wednesday’s careful preparations had been completely abandoned, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty and chaos.

Unfortunately for Wednesday, the remaining person to whom she found herself assigned was a naturally excellent swimmer. It would’ve been preferable to drown.

“So, Wends, wanna go kill some time off campus then grab some lunch?” Divina asked as Wednesday approached. The Siren had been leaning nonchalantly against a pillar near Wednesday’s morning Literature class, occupied with something on her phone until she spotted her day’s charge.

(That is, Wednesday definitely felt, despite her own self-assured nature, that everyone else was viewing Divina as Wednesday’s babysitter that day, not the other way around. Nothing had been said, but then again, it was fairly obvious without communication.)

“Please do not address me with such familiarity,” Wednesday insisted.

“Sorry, Miss Addams,” Divina said. “I thought maybe now we’re all, you know, inner circle to whatever coven you have going on, Enid’s nicknames for you were fair game.”

“I can hear the insincerity in your voice, and will not acknowledge your attempt to rile me up. But those privileges are for Enid only.”

“Acknowledge it or not, I think it’s working, Wends,” Divina said with a grin.

“Insufferable fish person,” Wednesday muttered to herself.

Nevertheless, knowing that each could only push so far without disappointing Enid, and that pairing up at all times had been Wednesday’s idea, she allowed Divina to fall in step next to her without further comment. Wanting to do anything other than head into town now that Divina had explicitly suggested it, Wednesday pushed her defiance down and began to lead them off campus, giving into her preference for routine over her proclivity for contrariness. (Since when had she become so reflective of her own traits, let alone viewing them as shortcomings to be squashed? Probably since Enid started using therapy-speak to describe Wednesday, pretending to diagnose her with this and that using her infuriating little smile.)

At Nevermore, Wednesday had little to do with most of the Siren cohort, with Bianca Barclay being the obvious exception. With Bianca, her relationship had been one of rivalry. That word, in many ways, transcended the concept of friend or foe, referring to something at once more dynamic and more ancient, which Wednesday had grown to appreciate. There was respect and trust, even while there was competition and caution. She hadn’t considered Bianca either nefarious or threatening enough to ascend to the status of nemesis, but had put in the work to classify as the next best thing. However, Wednesday’s disproportionate exposure to Bianca versus other Sirens had potentially given her a slightly skewed view of them. Bianca was snide and confident, outspoken and expected to take the lead or the stage as the moment required. Though, with her upbringing, Wednesday should’ve known better than to reduce any group of people to a uniform set of traits presented by one individual, Bianca’s personality had been so ubiquitous and seemed to resonance so well with her song-based abilities that Wednesday had given into the heuristic of stereotyping Bianca’s fellow Sirens in her image.

Despite Divina’s teasing comments upon meeting up, their light conversation as the pair walked to the nearest cluster of shops and other civic buildings was remarkably free of acerbic jabs. There was an easy way about Divina that, for one reason or another, didn’t entice quite as many insults and threats out of Wednesday as Bianca had. Not that her mind didn’t conjure them, as that was simply habit with all people, but Divina shrugged most of them off, and soon Wednesday stopped bothering. With Bianca, her shrugging off of comments felt like arrogance, and pushed Wednesday to either persist until she got a better reaction, or (if she backed off) Wednesday would give up on the endeavour if only because Bianca had wound her up enough that the two stopped being capable of existing in the same room. This dynamic, fledgling as it was, with Divina was so much less inflamed. It almost left Wednesday uncertain how to act, as aggressive sparing—whether literal or verbal—came much more naturally to her.

“Enid said something about you not knowing she’d be your roommate again. How’d she manage that?” Divina asked as they walked.

“Cunning and subterfuge,” Wednesday replied.

“You sound… proud? Impressed?”

Sighing, Wednesday admitted, “Something like that. It would’ve been a lot easier for her to just tell me, but I cannot fault her for executing her plan using the kind of underhanded means that I taught her.”

“Oh, Addams, she’s always been a bit of a sneak,” said Divina. “She’s just nicer than you about it, and doesn’t only use her powers for evil.”

“Her wholesomeness is indeed nauseating,” Wednesday agreed.

“But you like being nauseated, don’t you?”

“There is torture and then there is torture. Compare the soothing bed of nails to the torment of a child’s voice. To be nauseated is a state of being, but its potential for enjoyment lies in its context and origin.”

“God, your way of talking can be fucking weird sometimes, Wednesday,” said Divina. It wasn’t a barb, however. Merely an amused observation. “And which is Enid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does she make your stomach queasy in an enjoyable way, or not?” Divina asked.

“My tolerance for her particular brand of torture has evolved over time. It has shifted away from ‘not,’ despite all expectations.”

“That’s the stupidest way of saying you like her I could possibly imagine.”

“And what, is it better to say”—Wednesday steeled herself, already knowing that she would regret the impression that she was about to attempt—“O. M. G. She’s, like, totally wicked, or whatever drivel comes out of the mouths of internet-addled teenagers.”

Divina fully snorted. “That’s honestly amazing. Completely mixing up your slang eras, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard something so strange come out of your mouth since that day you danced through the quad to Blackpink.”

“This has been thoroughly established, that was not me.”

“At the time, experiencing it, we didn’t know that, so the impression I remember is still being baffled at Wednesday Addams, not amused at the antics of Enid Sinclair,” said Divina. “Still, don’t do it again. Go back to speaking like weird Old English poetry.”

“‘Hwæt. We Gardena in geardagum, þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon, hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon,’ is Old English,” Wednesday quoted. “You will find that my vernacular is remarkably modern, and would not pass as ordinary even as recently as the Victorian era, though I do maintain historical vocabulary where it is superior to its contemporary equivalents.”

“That had better not have been some curse,” Divina replied.

“It’s Beowulf. Learning it may even go some way to reduce the curse upon you that is the dismal modern literacy standard.”

“You would like old poems about wolves.”

“Though there are scholars who argue that the name Beowulf could include a lupine aspect, he is a man, and he faces trolls and dragons. Wolves barely feature,” said Wednesday.

“God you’re dense,” said Divina. She rolled her eyes with something that Wednesday almost thought could have been… affection?

“Says the fish person who doesn’t know Old English from Middle English from Early Modern English.”

“Listen, witch, you’re no more clued up on the important differences between current cultural moments and media.”

“Oh look, a bookstore. Maybe we can educate you.”

They had arrived at the township around which this part of the larger city orbited. This particular bookshop was one with which Wednesday was already quite familiar, having dragged Enid in often when they were nearby for lunch.

“Nah, sorry Wednesday, I’m not much of a reader. When it comes to books, I’d much rather shove a marshmallow on a stick while the books go up in sparking whirls.”

Wednesday froze in the bookstore entrance, and turned back to Divina. “That was not an exact quote, but I stand corrected. Please refrain from such violent means of censorship, however. I appreciate a good bonfire, and the dark, dystopian impulse of man, but I draw the line at burning books.”

“Since we’re being honest, I will admit that I had to memorise the first paragraphs of Fahrenheit 451 for a literature class several years ago. But, still, I picked the book and it’s still stuck with me. I don’t read as much as you might, but I’m hardly illiterate. Besides, though you may hate k-pop and all that Enid listens to, but I know you appreciate music, and lyrics and poetry aren’t so far removed, are they?”

“Hmm,” Wednesday mused aloud. “I accept.”

“What?”

“You make a compelling case, combined with the utility of your natural talents as an Outcast, so consider yourself accepted.”

“You make no sense, Addams. Despite what I said earlier, if you want to actually be able to hold a conversation, sometimes you have to speak like a normal person.”

Wednesday gave her best, unsettling smile, so that Divina would know exactly just how much she might come to regret this. “Oh, I thought it was obvious. Consider yourself accepted into the inner circle of my coven. Be warned. It comes with more sacrifices than privileges.”

“Do I get to call you ‘Wends’?”

“Sure, go ahead. Just know, it’ll cost you a finger or a fin every time.”

And then it was Thursday. The inexorable passage of time truly was tedious. The great temporal beast consuming her life moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day, never satiated. At this rate, Wednesday would wither and die before the ‘buddy system’ had served its purpose. Yet, at the same time, each minute crawled. Was this the experience of Sisyphus? Every minute seeming like an eternity, and yet weeks and months and years could pass and have felt like nothing upon reflection?

Perhaps it was just the present company, with her juxtaposition of near-immortality yet incessant immaturity that forced Wednesday’s mind into this dark place.

When Enid had suggested that morning that Divina might particularly enjoy her afternoon Theatre workshop, along with the offhanded idea that maybe Yoko could keep Wednesday company… Wednesday was certain that this was no longer simply the other girls inadvertently disrupting with her carefully planned schedule in their own excitement, but a premeditated attempt on Wednesday’s sanity. She understood that Enid might want her to get to know her friends, but why on earth Yoko and Divina would actually want to grow more familiar with Wednesday was beyond her. Weren’t her consciously curated antisocial tendencies effective enough anymore?

Yoko herself was also a bit of an enigma to Wednesday. Spending time with Divina had surprised her. Starting from a position of essentially no preconceptions, other than what she had inadvertently superimposed from Bianca, meant that Wednesday was only operating in the context of her generalised misanthropy. However, being comparatively more familiar with Yoko didn’t serve to inspire Wednesday’s confidence in their time together—quite the opposite. If the vampire spawn had been a more traditional bloodsucking parasite committed to the exsanguination of her enemies, perhaps then Wednesday and Yoko might’ve seen more eye to eye. But Yoko seemed more to possess an aesthetic that promised darkness and depth, only to find that her personality and taste was far more aligned with Enid than Wednesday.

Maybe that’s what Enid wanted in a friend. A gothic exterior, but without authentic cold and darkness beneath. Perhaps Enid still hoped to uncover as such somewhere deep within Wednesday’s soul, and upon discovering that it simply didn’t exist, would eventually decide to walk away…

“Oi, Addams, we’re meant to be bonding. Y’know, given our mutual bestie and all that. Don’t forget: you came to me this time,” Yoko said, interrupting Wednesday’s spiralling thoughts.

So it was premeditated and intentional. Wednesday would have to think of a suitable act of revenge to get back at Enid later.

“I tolerate your presence because of the positive effect that you inexplicably have on our ‘mutual bestie,’ as you so inanely put it, and the utility that you can provide in her protection. If it makes it easier to understand the limitations of our specific interactions, however, feel free to consider yourself professionally contracted to the cause, rather than acquainted with me in any more personal sense,” Wednesday replied.

“What’s my hourly rate, then?”

“Hmm, how about, every hour you serve is an hour that you still live?”

Yoko merely rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this. So long as you’re sweet on our wolf, I’m confident I’m safe. Come on, Addams. You can tolerate being social with me for the afternoon.”

“I hate all things sweet, except for sweet, sweet revenge, and have therefore never acted sweetly once in my life,” Wednesday corrected.

“Sure. Your date yesterday wasn’t sweet at all,” said Yoko.

“You know what else isn’t sweet? The atomiser in my pocket filled with garlic-infused water.”

 “God, you’re insufferable.”

“Good. Making people suffer without end is my preferred modus operandi.”

“You’ve got to put an end to Enid’s suffering eventually, though.”

“Are you suggesting that I murder her? That seems unlike you, and would not be my first preference despite the amusement that I generally find in death,” Wednesday said.

With a raised eyebrow, Yoko replied, “Quite the contrary. She’ll end up dying of longing at this rate.”

“You speak in riddles, Tanaka. And not particularly entertaining ones.”

“And you’re even thicker than I realised.”

Their afternoon continued as such. Pointless meandering to kill time, while the pair were both unable to put an end to their misery by one killing the other. Yoko made cryptic but meaningless comments, and Wednesday retorted with threats and insults. It should have been amusing, but instead she only grew more frustrated with every passing minute.

Eventually, Yoko dragged Wednesday along to one of her lectures. They ended up sitting as a four—Wednesday, Yoko, Agnes, and Gabriella—as this was one of the classes that the vampire and the Normie shared. At first, Wednesday attempted to take the opportunity to disappear with Agnes (literally, if necessary), but Agnes indicated that she was content and interested in sticking around, and Wednesday ended up imprisoned in a seat between Agnes and Yoko. A ninety-minute lecture on the efficacy of non-violent activism by oppressed minorities awaited them. Wednesday was unconvinced that she could survive the full time without committing some violent activism against the university institution.

What Wednesday didn’t expect was for this to be a topic in which Yoko was particularly invested. She didn’t know whether this was something specific to Yoko, or a point of tension for the vampire clans in Japan, or even a debate across vampiric society globally. Regardless, Yoko actively engaged in the class discussion in a way that Wednesday had never seen in the various courses that the two of them shared at Nevermore.

It was almost with awe that Wednesday listened each time that Yoko spoke up, largely in defence of necessary violence in affecting meaningful social change:

“All major change could be argued to be a form of violence, or at least entail violence in the process. Avoiding violence in activism is effectively just displacing where the violence occurs. If the minority in question avoids violent means, in many cases, they are merely prolonging the violence that is already being done to them.”

“Even Marx, who we so often laud conceptually in this class, argued that aggression was necessary, even if regrettable, in not only ensuring that transition was shortened, but in some cases that the transition could occur at all, didn’t he? And his philosophy can’t be meaningfully separated from the practicality of achieving it, not without minimising and ignoring the very real experiences of those he was advocating for.”

“Assuming that slow, iterative change will ever be enough is equivalent to believing in ‘trickle down economics’ or that not talking about sex with teenagers makes the problems there go away.”

“Democracy itself was only achieved through upheaval. And American Imperialism certainly hasn’t shied away from aggressively forcing democracy on others. While this is hardly something that I’d consider defensible, it is surely hypocritical to expect domestic advocacy and activism to have different standards.”

“Why should the state’s monopoly on tolerable violence be respected when the state barely upholds its own ends of the social contract?”

If Wednesday had instead come across her exact words but in writing, spelled out in some political tome within her family’s library, she would’ve considered it entirely Addamsian. Yoko argued for protecting outcasts (whether ‘Outcasts’ or just anyone rejected by society) with the dark and effective methods that Wednesday and her family favoured. She’d even heard similar statements, if a little less polite for an academic setting, from her father when discussing business that related to the tensions between the Addams or Outcasts and the government.

As Wednesday had said to Divina the previous day, for the Addams, actions required context to be evaluated. It was one thing for her and Pugsley to entertain themselves with her brother as a target for knife throwing, or subjecting him to the authentic torture devices in their basement. It was something else entirely to accept systemic violence against the powerless and marginalised, and not allow them the right and opportunity to defend themselves in turn.

“Tanaka,” Wednesday asked, pulling the vampire aside when the four girls made their way to a nearby social space to wait for Enid and Divina to be finished with former’s Theatre workshop.

“Yes, Addams?”

“That was… unexpectedly enlightened for a creature of the shadows. Your brain may not have decayed as much as I anticipated given your state of undeath.”

“Is that a compliment, unsolicited at that, Wednesday?”

“It is, at best, a concession that partially counteracts your many other aggravating personal qualities. Which is already very generous of me to offer,” said Wednesday.

“Wow, I’m flattered…” Yoko replied dryly. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose under her perpetual sunglasses. “But, well, thanks, I guess? Just because people have different tastes or social appetite to you doesn’t automatically mean that they’re less intelligent or aware. It’s nice to get the chance to prove that. Not that I should have to.”

Wednesday kept silent, as they caught back up to Agnes and Gabriella. Luckily, Enid and Divina weren’t long, and Wednesday gravitated back to her roommate to give herself space and time to avoid boiling over with irritation at herself Yoko from the uncomfortable degree of positive candour.

Honestly, the world would’ve been an easier place to navigate if other people didn’t possess rich interiorities. Not that anyone else could hope to match Wednesday, but being forced to encounter and acknowledge the fact that a non-negligible degree of sentience could, in fact, be found in people outside of Wednesday’s most immediate circle… It wasn’t like Wednesday rationally believed that she was the only sapient human in existence, but treating others as shallow, background characters in the story of her life simplified things immensely, and that tidy way of viewing the world had been explicitly challenged two days in a row.

Maybe the solution was to discover or invent some kind of spell or virus that could dumb everyone back down to a level that Wednesday would find acceptable. She’d have to ask her Grandmama if that was possible…