Chapter Text
Birdie Bradshaw loved her students. It was her favorite part of the job along with all the wide open space around the school for her birds. Galileo was resting on his perch in her office, the darkroom being too small and too dark for his comfort.
She loved teaching. All of her kids were so creative and so excited about what she had to teach them. It helped that she taught art classes. The kids taking such courses would have to be interested in order to be there, but all the same.
She glanced up from her prints at one such student, August Addams, who stood across the dimly red lit room from her, dunking her developed photo paper in water to rinse the excess chemicals off. They had just met to discuss the club fair and once that business was concluded, they both had some printing to do.
“So,” she said, “Rusty’s your new roommate, correct?”
“That’s right,” Auggie answered, moving another film strip into printing position in the enlarger. The accordion box like device and the glass pane beneath it would both magnify and shine a light through the photo negative, creating the positive image on the light sensitive paper after processed through the proper chemicals.
Faux distractedly, Birdie said, “he seems sweet.”
“Ms. Bradshaw, if there’s a point you’re trying to make, please make it,” Auggie said without any irritation.
“Did you spend any time over break thinking about what we talked about? About Conner?”
Auggie sighed.
“I don’t mean to pry, honey, but do your parents know?”
“No, and I’ve taken great pains to keep it that way. Conner didn’t do anything untoward, and I don’t want there to be any assumption of the opposite.”
“Auggie,” Birdie said kindly, “just because he didn’t use his song to influence you that way, isn’t the point. The point is that he broke your trust enough to make you think he could have. I wish you would talk to Larissa about it.”
Auggie sighed again, tired sounding. “And tell her what? That known scamp August Addams got siren songed into breaking curfew a few extra times than he already had? That he was worried that his questioning of his sexuality was made worse by thinking it was only brought on by a siren’s influence? Especially when he’s already determined that it wasn’t? Not to mention, said former roommate no longer attends the school?”
“Alright, alright. If you don’t want to you don’t have to. I’ll always be here for you to confide in if you need me,” Birdie said, the secret keeping part of it implied.
“To your credit, you are right. Rusty has helped, actually.”
Trying not to smile too wide, Birdie asked, “how so?”
“Having someone else, in his place, has helped.”
Birdie nodded.
“He doesn’t seem to mind… me.”
Birdie nodded again. “I think the two of you are good for each other,” she quickly added, “I met with him yesterday, you’ve really helped him settle in. He wasn’t sure about being new here.”
Auggie smiled. “Everyone’s welcome.”
“Of course. He did mention though, that something seemed to be bothering you though?”
Auggie then entered what Birdie often referred to as his ‘investigative mode.’ He often got fixated on one spirit’s problem or another, attempting to figure out how to help them when often the spirits themselves didn’t know.
“Some of the ghosts are missing,” he said, almost speaking to himself, puzzling it out.
“Like moved on? Or you just couldn’t find them?”
“I’m not sure. Weems busted Rusty and I before the others could say.”
“Are your prints done?”
“Yes, why?”
Birdie winked at him. “Get outta here. I’ll cover for you.”
Auggie grinned and was off.
She really would do just about anything her students needed. And she was proud of it, she thought to herself.
Traipsing through a graveyard is not nearly as fun in daylight.
As Auggie understood it, most people felt uncomfortable in graveyards at any hour of the day. The notion didn’t make sense to him at all.
Ghosts were harder to see in the daytime simply due to their translucence. This is where Doves and Ravens differed from Mediums. Psychics usually only ever interacted with one ghost, the departed spirit of a family member bound to guide them and their powers. Mediums had to contend with more than that. If a ghost was near, a Medium could see it. There were all kinds of factors that could affect how a ghost appeared to a Medium. Familial relation usually led to a more solid visage. Time since departing would affect solidity as well. The longer one had been dead, the more translucent they became. Several other factors manifested as well. The means of death alone held many variables for spirits.
It was a large field of study and Auggie had spent a considerable time last year conducting a research paper for his Outcast Sciences class. That, along with his Outcast History classes, were some of Auggie’s favorite non-art exploits during his time at Nevermore. In both fields there was so much to still uncover, as Outcasts, unfortunately, still faced several civil injustices.
For example, the missing ghosts in his care.
“Ms. Foxglove? Mr. Whispers?” Auggie called, then sighed, “Doctor?”
To Auggie’s dismay, the good Dr. Moore was the one who answered his call.
His ghost was large, portraying the muscular frame he must have held in life. He was fuzzy around the edges, something Auggie attributed to his having been a hairy man while he was alive, the ghosts of other werewolves sometimes appeared the same way. He had some of the bushiest sideburns Auggie had ever seen on either a living or dead person.
Dr. Moore’s broad arms were crossed as he tapped a finger impatiently. “Took you long enough, boy.”
“I came as soon as I was allowed, Doctor. Could you arrange a meeting. I’d like to see all of you, if you don’t mind?”
A stream of spectral air escaped Dr. Moore’s flared nose. He nodded and set to work.
Auggie cocked his head, a little like a barn owl.
Confusing.
Anger with Dr. Moore was nothing new, especially in the wake of Auggie’s apparent flippancy and disrespect. This was different. Auggie had never seen the doctor nervous before. And, he had never abided by one of Auggie’s requests without complaining first.
Dr. Moore led him to the mausoleum from the previous night, stepping right through the blocked door.
Used to this, Auggie sighed and procured his illegally copied key from his pocket.
“Thank you, Uncle Fester,” he whispered as he turned his unsanctioned key in the lock and stepped inside.
Lit only by a small window the back of the small building, it was much darker inside. The trees behind the building shading what little light was entering the structure anyway.
He found them all seated and waiting for him. Ghosts of all kinds rested on casket shelves as if they were benches, and all of them were looking at him.
Dr. Moore took his leader-like position at the back, impatiently waiting. Auggie had never asked the other spirits of Nevermore if they appreciated his self-appointed leadership. He did not think it a good idea to ask it now.
He counted off in his head, as he had done the night before. To Auggie’s memory, he was still missing a handful of them.
Now, not every ghost that called Nevermore - or even Jericho - home was housed in the school’s graveyard. Some of them, through nature of their deaths or connection to the area, were more confined to specific places. Some of them wanted to move on, some of them preferred to stay. Some had larger ranges of wondering, others weren’t so lucky.
But, every ghost that Auggie associated with the Graveyard was not entirely accounted for.
“Before we start,” he said. “Mr. Whispers, are you here?”
“Yes, Auggie, right here,” the Vanisher’s voice said from beside the amorphous form of Lilith Foxglove.
Auggie nodded in the voice’s direction. “Glad to hear that. Now, what seems to be the problem, and why are some of us missing?”
Dr. Moore began to growl his frustration when Lilith raised her hand.
“The truth is, August, we aren’t sure.”
Auggie cocked his head.
“Our neighbors have been going missing, and none of are sure why.”
“Must be frightening,” Auggie said, receiving a handful of nods around the cold stone room.
When a ghost moves on, a Medium knows it. There’s a feeling to it, a lightness in their awareness of reality’s fabric where that spirit had been clinging. Auggie had sensed some absences, but it was merely that, an absence. The ghosts that were here just weren’t anymore, but it was clear they had not left.
“Has anyone seen anything strange lately?”
“Other than your haircut, son?”
Auggie cut his eyes over to Dr. Moore and, with a shark-like grin, ruffled his black waves.
“Don’t antagonize him, Lyall! We need his help!” Mr. Whispers shouted.
“No worries, William. I would never withhold my help from you all for such a simple insult from your illustrious doctor. I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”
“I told you,” Lilith said sweetly to the space beside her - presumably where Will was seated - before turning to Auggie. “Thank you, August.”
“Of course, Ms. Foxglove. It’s a honor to help you all.” Auggie said earnestly, ignoring the grumbling of the werewolf in the back.
Auggie turned back from the mausoleum door, glancing at the spirits over his shoulder. “You all know where to find me. Stick together. Keep an eye on each other. Let me know if anything changes or if you see anything that might help us. I’ll keep you safe, and do the best I can to bring the others back home.”
The series of ghostly ‘thank you’s brought a soft smile to Auggie’s face as he left the mausoleum behind. Strolling lazily, turning the information over in his head, he still slunk into his next class on time.
If the ghosts were disappearing, they had to be going somewhere, hadn’t they? If so, where?
No word from the ghosts in the following days. Antsy disquiet plagued the eldest Addams child as he sat and stewed over it. With no new information, there was very little he could do. How to investigate when there is nowhere to start?
Planning a booth at a club fair, however, offered plenty of distraction.
With some of his favorite prints tucked safely under his arm, Auggie made his way to the courtyard. The massive werewolf statue and other Outcast busts loomed over him as he descended the stairs, smiling faintly up at them. He’d overheard a gaggle of freshman point at them with fear and trepidation earlier this week, claiming the old statues were ‘creepy.’
Auggie thrived on creepy.
True to Birdie’s word, the Photo Club and Queer Alliance booths were already mostly set up next to each other.
In front of the brighter one, Rusty stood, squinting, as he moved his hands over the trellised wooden frame. Ivy crept along, coaxed by his movements and once it covered the surface of the station, flowers of all colors of the rainbow grew and opened. A gorgeous brown falcon, who had been perched on the black top of the booth next to it, leaned forward to inspect.
Birdie dusted her hands from the box she’d been carrying and rounded the corner. “Oh, Rusty! That’s beautiful!”
“‘S nothing, ma’am,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Modesty,” Auggie said, coming up behind him and snapping a picture of the flowers. Waiting momentarily for Rusty to recover from his startling, Auggie finally added, “Trying color film this time. I’m sure the image will be just as catching as they are. You have quite the talent, Mr. Bellerose.”
Rusty coughed.
“Well, ugh, thank you, I’m looking forward to seeing them developed, I guess.”
Auggie set to hanging his prints as Birdie smiled to herself looking briefly between the boys.
“Signs are put up,” Callida said, crossing her arms as she sat on the corner of the Queer Alliance stand.
“Just in time, Callida, thank you.” The art department head placed a handful of colorful striped buttons on the counter, picking one of the orange and pink ones up for herself and pinning it to her jacket. The lesbian flag emblazoned on her lapel. “The three of you are welcome to any of these if you want them.”
“I am running the Photo Club stand,” Auggie said.
“I know,” Birdie said. “Anyone is welcome to these. Cal, Rusty, you do not have to take them just because you’re helping me, just know they’re here if you want them, I’m going to take a walk around, see if any of the other clubs need any assistance. Thank you three, for your help.”
“Of course.”
“‘S nothing, really.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Birdie smiled and looked up at the falcon. “Galileo, sweetie, why don’t you fly off for a little while?”
The falcon, Galileo, seemed to nod, in a bird-like way, before unfurling his wings and flapping up and out of the courtyard.
“She doesn’t have to talk to them,” Callida said, “I thought Avians could control them like, psychically.”
“She can,” Rusty said, “but it seems like she just likes it. I don’t have to use my hands with my plants, not for the small stuff, but it helps me feel more connected to them. I like that.”
Rusty perused the pride flag buttons arranged at the booth and picked up the one for gay pride. The mints, blues and purples going nicely with the deep green shade of his shirt. This being after class hours, school uniforms were not required.
Callida hummed. She reached out for the buttons once, then twice, hesitating. Before she huffed, smoke emitting from her fingertips momentarily, before she grabbed a bi flag button and hastily attached it to her black suspenders.
Auggie, wordlessly picked up a gay button of his own. He pondered it thoughtfully. Then after a breath, pinned it to his own lapel.
“So all three of us are a couple of queerdos then?” Callida asked.
Rusty snorted a laugh, “what?”
“Queerdos? Weirdos?”
Auggie, who had finished his preparations, fully joined the conversation, leaning against the black photo club booth. “Where on earth would you come up with a phrase like that?”
“Bully from my old school. Name he had to further ostracize gay Outcasts. He wasn’t that creative. Thought I’d reclaim it.”
“Hmm. I like it!” Auggie said, enthusiastically.
“What happened with the bully?” Rusty asked.
“It’s why I came here, actually. I got expelled,” Callida said, laughing a little bit.
“Doing what?”
“Burning his britches off, my dear southern friend.”
Auggie burst out laughing, Callida soon to follow, with Rusty shaking his head and chuckling.
Attention drawn by the noise, Birdie glanced over from where she’d been talking to another faculty member. The club fair wouldn’t start for another few minutes, but a smile worked its way on to her face seeing those three laughing together. She’d said that if even one student made a new friend in the wake of this event it would be a success.
Good. Now the rest would just be extra. What a wonderful thing that was.
The club fair had been a rousing success. Birdie had told all three of her helpers that they could head to bed. Curfew and all that, the faculty would do the tear down part, run along now.
She’d given Auggie his prints and assisted Rusty in the collection of his flowers, which he’d put in a vase as soon as he and Auggie arrived back in their room. They made a sweet addition to Rusty’s half of the bay windowsill. The two shared friendly conversation with Callida until she had to split off from them at the entrance of Ophelia Hall, then just the two of them to their room in Thisbe.
They were just about to turn in for the night when the lights flickered and the vines crawling by the window shivered. Rusty looked around confused, but stopped when he saw Auggie staring in front of him. His eyes were focused, someone was here.
“August, please! Something’s happened!”
“Lilith,” August said, taking her panic in stride, trying to remain calm for her. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
“Will’s gone! And I think I know why!”