Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dear friends!

We've barely returned from vacation, and I already have what might be the most shocking gossip of the year.

Our favorite gothic heroine has been spotted (by yours truly!) sweetly kissing none other than—insert drumroll here—Tyler Galpin!

It shouldn't surprise anyone that Wednesday Addams is drawn to bloodthirsty monsters, especially if said monster is Tyler, with whom she already seemed quite interested back when she, and us, thought he was just a normie. What will likely shock some of you, though, is that Tyler is once again strolling freely through the streets of Jericho.

If you want my advice, I'd say any comments about this particular pairing are best locked away in the darkest corners of your mind and never spoken aloud. That duo could be deadly... literally.

I hope this semester turns out to be as juicy as its start. Don't disappoint me.

XX
E.S.

Wednesday had refused to read Enid's gossip column, but when she returned to Nevermore after the humiliating episode at Tyler's house, all eyes were on her. Not like before, filled with fear and awe. Now, they looked at her with poorly hidden smiles and whispers—most of them. Others stared as though she'd grown a second head on her shoulder.

Wednesday knew exactly who was to blame. From the moment she heard her roommate's excited squeal, she had known this secret would be aired, and that she should have murdered Enid before it could happen. But fate, in the form of Sheriff Galpin, had conspired against her, keeping her detained just long enough for the disaster to unfold.

Wisely—and cowardly—Enid had fled to Yoko's room.

Tyler, on the other hand, had taken the matter with remarkable ease. The notification had arrived as he was saying goodbye to Wednesday. He hadn't said a word, granting her a few more minutes of peace. Once alone in his room, he read the column. He couldn't help but laugh and actually appreciated the disclosure, hoping it would make things easier for him and Wednesday.

The comments, however, slightly dampened his good humor.

Tyler set his phone aside, knowing reading more wouldn't do him any good. School started on Monday, and the thought made his stomach churn.

He sighed, shaking his head as if to clear it.

Then, with a mischievous smile, he picked up his phone again and quickly sent a message.

–Good night, kitten.

Chapter Text

The tensions between Nevermore Academy and Jericho had never been higher. Initially, the Hyde incident was handled discreetly, spawning a series of rumors that gradually solidified into truth in the hearts of the townspeople.

In the collective imagination, one of their own had been turned into an outcast and then discarded like trash. After all, they had watched Tyler grow up—a perfectly normal boy. Even if he had gone through a troubled phase, he was still a normie, one of them.

Now that boy was a murderous monster, and all fingers pointed to Nevermore as the culprit.

Paradoxically, Tyler was treated as a pariah.

Being the alleged failed experiment of some modern-day Dr. Frankenstein did nothing to earn him sympathy or soften the supposedly kind and compassionate hearts of Jericho's inhabitants. People avoided him as if he were carrying a highly contagious disease or might transform and rip off their heads at any moment. Not that he lacked the desire to.

They greeted him with all the cordiality fear allowed, then hurried as far from him as possible. At least some did... school was an entirely different matter.

Monday arrived faster than he would have liked. Parking his car, Tyler sat in the metal-and-glass fortress, surveying the scene. Students stopped and blatantly stared, some even pointing at him. Tyler sighed and grabbed his backpack. Facing the psychiatric institute had been easier than braving a mob of angry teenagers.

As he walked, people parted to let him pass, and silence seemed to engulf the area.

"Okay, this isn't weird at all," he muttered.

His stomach churned as he reached his locker.

Murderer.

The word was scrawled in vivid red paint, and when he opened it, photographs of each victim spilled out in front of him. Tyler sighed again, quickly adopting the habit. He cleared out the garbage, stuffed his books and notebooks inside, and turned to leave for class—only to find himself face-to-face with his former friends.

"How dare you?" Lucas shoved him, his eyes burning with rage and pain. Carter and Johan flanked him, their expressions full of contempt.

Tyler wasn't upset that the people who had once been his best friends now treated him like this. He had distanced himself from them a year ago, fully aware of how much it had upset them—though they had never resorted to physical confrontation until now. This was something entirely different.

Tyler understood: the anger, the resentment, the thirst for revenge. He'd harbored all those feelings himself for a long time.

"I had nothing to do with it," he murmured. "I swear."

"And you expect us to believe you, monster?" Johan spat the word as if it were poison.

"Get out of here while you still can."

The bell rang, and the students who had been watching dispersed.

Each step Tyler took felt like it weighed a ton. Jericho didn't care about the deaths of three unknown hikers or even Rowan, who had been dismissed as a disturbed outcast. They'd barely spared a thought for Eugene's attack, despite him being a child, and Dr. Kinbott's death had caused only mild unease. But the former mayor's death? That was an unforgivable sin.

To them, Tyler was, at best, an accomplice of Laurel Gates; at worst, the one directly responsible. To them, he and Laurel were the same. They couldn't grasp that he had been just another tool in her plan, much less understand the complex bond between a Hyde and its master.

Tyler knew trying to explain was futile. Even Wednesday had struggled to wrap her mind around it. But that didn't stop his blood from boiling when they blamed him for a crime he hadn't committed.

He knew what it was like to lose a father. Lucas had been his best friend not so long ago. The thought of hurting him was unthinkable. It was...

Tyler tried to focus on his classes, to ignore the whispers of his classmates, to drown out his thoughts. But when his phone vibrated near lunchtime, he couldn't recall a single thing from the morning lessons.

"How is the return?"

He couldn't help but smile at Wednesday's message. No emojis, of course.

"Pure torture. You'd love it."

"Sounds like high school magic."

"Are you worried about me?" He hesitated before sending the message, feeling a warm flutter in his chest. It was a risky move, but the feeling alone was worth it. He didn't expect an affectionate reply, just the chance to provoke her icy wit.

"Why would I be? You've got claws to handle any trouble." Before Tyler could respond, another message came through. "I'm just torturing Xavier. He complains that I don't reply to messages, and I show him that I do... but not to him."

The bell rang, and Tyler hurried out. The sea of students parted around him, but he barely noticed, lost in his own little bubble.

"That's my girl."

The goofy grin on his face wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. He didn't care. After everything he'd endured in the past year, it felt incredible to be just another teenage boy, thrilled by every little sign of affection from his girlfriend or soon-to-be-girlfriend.

Hope was making a place in his chest and he finally felt like he had found where he belonged.

Tyler grabbed his lunch, but one quick glance around the cafeteria was enough to know neither he nor the other students were ready to share that space. Lucas's glare bored into him from across the room, and to keep the peace, Tyler decided to leave.

He headed to his car, resigned to spending his lunches locked away in solitude—but determined to endure it.

Fate, however, had other plans.

As Tyler approached, he saw two boys he didn't recognize trying to spray-paint his car. They'd barely drawn a line with the black spray can before Tyler grabbed one of them by the arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The boy recoiled, but his companion, a tall, dark-haired kid, shouted back, "Don't you want everyone to know what you are?"

"Looks like you're the ones who don't know." Tyler yanked the boy closer by his jacket. "If I see another scratch on my car, I'll rip your heads off and drag what's left of your bodies through Jericho until there's no blood left."

He shoved the boy, who fell onto his partner, and let out what sounded like a growl. It was a bit dramatic for his taste, but it worked. Both boys took off running.

Tyler approached the driver's side door and noticed one of the tires was flat.

"Fantastic," he muttered, slamming the door shut.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

"You owe me a coffee for calling me that."

And just like that, his day seemed a little brighter.

Enid seemed to bounce with excitement beside her. Before the school day ended, Tyler had texted Wednesday again to let her know he had car trouble and suggested postponing the coffee.

"It's called a date," Enid said.

"It's not. It's his way of apologizing for insulting me."

"Calling you 'his girl' is not an insult."

"I don't recall belonging to anyone."

"Oh, c'mon! If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, Muhammad must go to the mountain," Enid had concluded, dragging Wednesday and Ajax along to Jericho. The werewolf was thrilled at the idea of visiting a normie high school, despite Wednesday warning her there was nothing special about them—except for the typical aura of pessimism and desolation that surrounded such places, and that Enid would not appreciate. 

Having attended enough schools, Wednesday felt qualified to make an objective statement, but Enid hadn't listened.

Finding Tyler was easy. He and his father were the only souls in sight. Tyler was under the car, arguing with his dad about whether he was doing things correctly.

"Tyler," Wednesday greeted him, her voice barely above a murmur.

Startled, Tyler bumped his head against the car, and Wednesday suppressed a smile. That never failed to amuse her.

"Addams," the sheriff acknowledged her with a nod and gave a brief glance to her companions.

"We didn't know you were here," Enid apologized, holding an extra drink meant for Tyler.

"I'm just waiting for my son to give me the names of the delinquents who did this so I can leave."

"I already told you I don't know them," Tyler replied, sliding out from under the car and starting to loosen the lug nuts. "I don't even know who they are. Besides, I'm not the kind of person who runs to his dad to tattle."

"Then you'll be the kind of person who ends up beaten and left in an alley," his father countered.

"I think he's right, Tyler," Enid chimed in.

"Yeah, it's not going to stop until you put your foot down," Ajax added, grimacing sympathetically.

"I can handle this myself. I don't even need the Hyde."

The reminder of his more destructive side didn't seem to amuse the sheriff.

"I'd rather prevent it from getting to that point. You're in no position to get into trouble."

"I know. God"

When Tyler finished changing the tire, he handed the tools back to his father.

"Come home early and stay out of trouble."

And though the words were meant for Tyler, the sheriff's gaze was locked on Wednesday. He hadn't even made it back to the car when a window in the building shattered.

"Stay here," Donovan ordered, rushing toward the sound, one hand ready to draw his weapon.

As expected, no one listened, with Wednesday following closer than the others. When they reached the main entrance, they all stopped dead in their tracks. The shock was written plainly on their faces.

Enid stifled a scream. Ajax clutched his cap, the snakes beneath it hissing furiously. Tyler furrowed his brows, stepping back in sheer disbelief. Sheriff Galpin pressed his lips into a thin, white line.

And Wednesday... Her curious eyes missed no detail: the way blood rapidly soaked the steps, the shards of glass scattered like a light drizzle, and the man's body sprawled among them, around fifty years old, his head split open, fully exposing its contents to the onlookers.

Chapter Text

Jacob Brown had taught history for the past twenty years at Jericho High School. He was a widower; his only son lived in California, and they hadn’t seen each other since his wife’s funeral three years prior. He drank occasionally, smoked since he was eighteen, and was surrounded by neighbors whose routines were as fascinating as his own.

His life had been anything but exciting, and Wednesday believed ending such a pathetic existence was probably the best thing that could have happened to him. On the other hand, Jacob Brown’s death opened the door to a new and morbid mystery.

The official report labeled it a suicide. Of course.

While it was a more believable cover story than a bear tearing through town, it was still just that—a pathetic attempt to hide Jericho’s dark secrets. She knew there was more to it...

And the Sheriff knew it too, which was why he kept her as far from the crime scene as possible. That didn’t stop her mind from working rapidly through the facts in front of her.

If it was a suicide, what kind of lunatic would choose their workplace of the last twenty years as the setting for such a grim act? Why break a window and fall backward to their death?

It was clearly a murder, which left an even bigger question: Why had someone killed Jacob Brown?

Tyler had been the last to give his testimony. Among the witnesses, he was the only one who had actually known the teacher. In fact, he’d attended his class that morning but couldn’t recall the topic, let alone had any notes to show for it. To his credit, he had a solid alibi—he had been with the Sheriff at the exact moment of the incident.

When he finally emerged from the office, he looked more dejected than ever. Wednesday stood up, and they left the station together. Neither spoke until they were well away from the building.

“You haven’t given me the names yet.”

Tyler stopped, visibly confused.

“Of the bullies,” she added, as if it were obvious.

Tyler let out a laugh before stepping closer and taking Wednesday’s hands.

“If I won’t let my dad handle it, what makes you think I’d let my girlfriend deal with my problems?”

“Because I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Ouch!” he exclaimed, feigning exaggerated pain. And although Wednesday thought Tyler was naïve to truly believe they had a relationship... their hands were still intertwined. “Hate to break it to you, but everyone thinks otherwise.”

“I don’t care what others think or what Enid writes in her stupid blog.”

“Then what are we, Wednesday?”

Tyler took a step closer, that foolish grin still plastered on his face. Wednesday hated the way her insides twisted, but she didn’t let any of it show on her expression.

“Rivals. Adversaries.”

Tyler nodded, seemingly in full agreement.

“I didn’t know you kissed your rivals. Are you some sort of femme fatale or something?”

Wednesday dug her nails into his palms, but it only seemed to amuse him further.

“It was a moment of weakness. We nearly died.”

“And in my room? Was that also a moment of weakness? Sussy is a terrible beast. Or...” His face moved closer to hers by mere inches, amusement flickering in his eyes. “...am I your weakness?”

“You’re deranged.”

She pulled her hands free sharply and turned away, but she hadn’t taken two steps toward the Weathervane before stopping again.

“What now?”

“If I’m going to be your enemy, I need to prepare an appropriate plan to bring you down.”

Without further ado, Tyler walked off in the opposite direction, leaving her slightly unsettled.

Xavier tried to clear his mind, but without much success.

His fingers tightened around the bowstring, his gaze fixed on the target. As he exhaled, he released the arrow, imagining part of his troubled thoughts flying away with it.

The shot landed nowhere near the center. It didn’t matter; today’s practice was just an attempt to distract himself. The dreams had been tormenting him again since he returned to school, but he was certain they weren’t visions this time. They felt different. Strange.

In those dreams, Xavier was being chased. He could feel his throat burning as he gasped for air, his heart pounding wildly, the muscles in his legs aching with exhaustion, and the chill of the night cutting through his thin pajamas. The sound of his bare feet was muffled by the carpeted hallway, and the moonlight was the only source of illumination in the deserted dorm corridors.

He ran and ran, but the rancid breath of the beast chasing him was on his neck. He could hear its salivating pants, the hungry growl rumbling from its chest, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see it.

He reached a balcony, and the cold wind hit his face. He heard the monster’s steps creaking on the wooden floor behind him, then the silence as it leaped at him. Xavier jumped. His body collapsed onto the courtyard...

And the arrow flew.

3 points, marked the zone where it landed.

Xavier’s phone vibrated in his pocket. A message from an unknown number. When he opened it, he saw a photograph of Tyler and Wednesday holding hands in downtown Jericho. The message had far better aim than any of his arrows that afternoon.

“Still in the game?”

Xavier didn’t bother replying. He pocketed his phone, feeling bile rise in his throat. He shot one last arrow, this time hitting the bullseye.

He blinked in surprise, but looking around, there was no one to celebrate with.

The news of Mr. Brown’s death spread like wildfire through the small town of Jericho. By the next morning, it was all anyone could talk about in the school hallways. The bloodstain on the concrete hadn’t even been removed yet, and students were already crowding around it with morbid fascination.

Tyler walked past the scene, and as he entered his classroom, silence fell. Somehow, they had managed to blame him for this too. Some said that the weak Mr. Brown hadn’t been able to handle the pressure of seeing him sitting in the corner of the classroom. Others claimed Tyler had given him an unusually intense look that day and, before heading to his next class, had whispered to him that he would be the next.

Faced with the horrors of the fearsome Hyde, the once-amiable Mr. Brown had supposedly chosen to die on his own terms.

The truth was that Mr. Brown was neither amiable nor weak. He was grumpy, boring, and never hesitated to snap at his students. He loved assigning punishments and homework whenever there was an event. Tyler didn’t hate him any more or less than the other students did, but that didn’t mean he would kill him—much less in that way.

When the police arrived at the school, things only got worse. The rumors multiplied, and the suicide theory started to be questioned. Tyler had to admit his father wasn’t the most subtle person, but the sheriff had assured him it was standard procedure given where the death had occurred.

Tyler didn’t believe him.

One by one, the teachers were questioned. Then came a line of students. It wasn’t until after lunch that an officer appeared in the classroom where Tyler was. Mrs. Miller nervously interrupted her lesson and stepped out to speak with Officer Turner. When she returned, her brown eyes locked onto him.

“Tyler, could you go to the principal’s office?”

Tyler felt his stomach drop. His classmates’ eyes were glued to him, and he simply nodded, perplexed. He grabbed his things and walked toward the officer.

“Monster,” someone muttered as he passed, making him stop dead in his tracks.

“Monster,” another chimed in.

“Monster, monster, monster…”

Suddenly, all his classmates had joined in, their voices rising in a chant. Some even pounded their fists on the desks. Tyler felt his face flush red, and Mrs. Miller hurried him out of the room.

“It’s nothing serious,” Officer Turner assured him, though he didn’t even look him in the eye.

When Tyler entered the office, the principal was waiting alongside his father.

“What’s going on?”

The principal gestured for him to sit, and from his father’s expression, it seemed like a headache was imminent.

“Given recent events, I’ve discussed with your father the possibility of granting you a special leave,” the principal began, clearly uncomfortable. His words did nothing to ease Tyler’s nerves.

“Special leave? For what?”

“To study from home,” Donovan said bluntly.

“You’re suspending me? I didn’t do anything.”

Well, nothing besides last year’s little massacre, obviously.

“This isn’t a suspension,” the principal clarified. “You’ll be able to submit your assignments. Your teachers have already sent me the list…”

“But if you kick me out, everyone will think it was me,” Tyler said, almost pleading as he looked at his father.

“We know it wasn’t you, Ty. But they won’t stop throwing false accusations your way. If we remove you from here, it might put an end to this.”

“Think of it this way, Sheriff,” the principal added. “Your classmates weren’t ready for your return. Introducing you gradually back into school activities might help curb the wave of bullying against you.”

“I saw your locker, Ty. We heard what your classmates are saying,” Donovan added.

“But, Dad…”

“It’s only for this week.”

There wasn’t much more he could do. Tyler grabbed the list of assignments and headed to his locker to stuff everything into his backpack.

“Leaving so soon?”

Lucas appeared beside him, his jaw tight. Tyler could see the promise of a threat in his eyes, and the beast within him stirred restlessly.

“Lucas,” the sheriff said, placing a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. His gruff greeting was enough of a warning for the other boy, who left immediately.

With no other option, Tyler followed his father out, all eyes on him as they exited the school.

Within days, routine had taken root again at Nevermore. The hallway chatter was more raucous than ever. Holiday stories were retold endlessly, and Enid’s blog was overflowing with new posts. The suicide of a normie wasn’t significant enough to warrant mention from the queen of gossip, but her supposed relationship with Tyler still dominated the headlines.

Wednesday hadn’t even bothered denying it. Not that she wanted to or felt she should explain why she’d kissed Tyler Galpin without being in a proper relationship. She had to admit, though, it had its perks—keeping Xavier at bay, for one.

When she returned from Jericho, it seemed Xavier wanted to stab her with his glare. Not that it intimidated her—the very idea amused her, knowing Xavier’s terrible aim—but she had to admit she’d never seen that violent streak in him before.

Apart from that, school carried on at its usual pace. Classes, extracurricular activities, little trips to Jericho…

That evening, dinner was served, and Enid had managed to drag Wednesday to the table in the yard where Ajax, Xavier, and a few sirens were discussing the need for a party soon.

“Your room is the biggest,” Divina said to Enid.

“Don’t even think about it,” Wednesday said, having remained aloof until now.

“Come on, Wednesday,” Ajax encouraged.

“We’ll even let Tyler come,” Divina teased.

“I don’t need your permission for that. And this is non-negotiable,” Wednesday said, looking directly at Enid.

As she stood to leave, a body collapsed onto the table in front of her.

A moment of stunned silence was followed by pandemonium. The courtyard, which had been relatively calm a moment ago, erupted with screams.

Wednesday leaned closer to the first-year boy’s face. He had jet-black hair and skin as pale as hers. When she was just inches away, Dennis, the boy, opened his blue eyes.

“You will all die,” he whispered before losing consciousness.

Chapter Text

The suspension hadn’t been so bad after all. Sussy woke him promptly at seven in the morning, snuggling with him for a few minutes before demanding food. Tyler took his time eating breakfast, then grabbed his backpack and headed into the woods.

On Monday at the park, he had noticed the way people looked at him—the way they recoiled from him. Although he had ignored it, engrossed in his conversation with Wednesday, he didn’t want to push his luck, so he had ventured into the woods to find a place of his own.

It was a solitary routine, but he was starting to get used to it.

That day, he had to sign in at the station, and he used the trip to drop off lunch for his father, who looked so surprised it almost made Tyler laugh. Afterward, he continued with his usual routine.

He walked to the river and dropped down beside a tree for support. Playing music on his phone, he pulled out his notebooks.

He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, but when he woke up, the sound of piano music was lulling him. Turning to get more comfortable, he saw Wednesday sitting next to him.

Tyler jumped up immediately, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I followed you.”

He watched as Wednesday crossed out and wrote over the essay he had been working on. When she finished, she handed it back to him.

“It’s a bit mediocre, but I think it’ll be enough for a good grade.”

“Thanks… I guess.”

They sat in silence for a while, though Tyler’s gaze kept drifting back to her.

“Is there a reason you followed me?”

“You said you’d plot something against me. It’s only natural to keep an eye on you.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason?” he asked again, with a half-smile.

“Actually, no. I spoke with your father.” That caught him off guard. “He agreed to let me see some closed cases, as long as I have a supervisor and don’t take the files out of your garage.”

“And I’d be that supervisor?”

“Your company is preferable to his—unless you’d like to be an orphan in the near future.”

“I didn’t think you’d go to so much trouble just to find a reason to be with me at my house. You only had to ask.”

Wednesday glared at him and shut the book she had been reading with a loud snap.

“Stop twisting my words. You’re becoming really annoying.”

Tyler let out a laugh.

“I’m just saying, if you want to spend time with me, I get it. You were okay with being more than friends before.”

“And then you tried to kill me. Three times.”

“Two of those, I had no choice. But, to be fair, you tortured me twice.”

“That was child’s play.”

Tyler’s brows furrowed, his amused expression vanishing instantly.

“Not for me.”

He held her gaze until Wednesday sighed, resigned.

"Do you want an apology?"

“No. What I really want to know is why you insist on making things so complicated. I thought we’d settled this in New Haven.”

Wednesday averted her gaze, focusing on the river. She stayed silent for so long that Tyler thought she might just walk away.

“You said it yourself. You don’t know which things you did under orders and which you did of your own will.”

His own words cut through him like swords. Wednesday was right.

It wasn’t that he thought he was in love with her. Just over a month ago, he had thought he hated her. But there was no denying that he was attracted to her… intensely so.

To him, Wednesday was danger. She was the feeling that settled in his chest before pouncing on prey, the tingle at the back of his neck when he felt watched, the sounds of the forest on a moonless night. And kissing her… kissing her was knowing he was doing something wrong and feeling no remorse.

She was addictive and dangerous.

“I like you,” he said, taking her chin to make her look at him. “That wasn’t a lie. And there’s no way you can convince me that you prefer the friendly barista over the bloodthirsty monster.”

Wednesday’s gaze seemed to burn. He wasn’t sure if she was furious or exhilarated, if she’d walk away or drive a dagger into his chest.

“Fine, but my warning remains the same.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to be any different.”

Tyler leaned back, resting against the tree again. He looked at her with a crooked smile and grabbed a blank sheet of paper, starting to rewrite the essay Wednesday had corrected.

"Stop smiling or I'll take it back."

When Tyler turned on the garage light, Wednesday could see boxes and files overflowing with police case records. A small smile tugged at her lips, and she felt her hands tingle with anticipation.

“They’re over here,” Tyler said, moving some boxes from the most tucked-away corner. “Though this is a mess, and there’s probably more scattered around.”

“Not to mention the ones covered up with false reports,” she muttered, not quietly enough for him not to hear.

He shot her a venomous look, and she smiled to herself.

“Any cases you’d recommend?”

“None come to mind.”

Tyler dropped a heavy box on the table and dusted off his hands before looking at her.

“Honestly, I don’t know what you think you’ll find here, but Jericho has been pretty boring for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s what I feared,” she said, pulling out the first file and inspecting the case of Linda Steward’s disappearance ten years ago.

Tyler glanced over her shoulder and laughed.

“She ran off with her boyfriend. Her parents made a scene because they didn’t approve of him. They used to call the station every day, and my dad wanted to strangle them—he had bigger problems than Linda back then.”

Wednesday closed the file forcefully, stirring up dust.

“What do you know about Mr. Brown’s murder?”

“Basically, everyone says I did it or threatened him… no idea why they think I’d want him dead. Anyway, we can move this to the living room; there’s more light there. I’ll order pizza.”

Each grabbed a random pile of files and dropped them onto the old dining table. Wednesday watched Tyler argue over the phone with the delivery guy, catching the tail end of a curse as he hung up. Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang.

They set the files aside, and Tyler placed a plate in front of her. Her eyes lingered on the slices of pizza, but her mind was elsewhere.

“A boy jumped off one of the balconies at school. He landed on my table.”

Tyler’s eyes widened, his bite of pizza frozen halfway to his mouth.

“I hadn’t heard anything about that.”

“The new principal is even more hypocritical than Weems. Besides, the boy’s fine. He’s a vampire. If he wanted to end it, he should’ve made sure there was a stake or something involved.”

“Why do you think he did it?”

“I don’t think he did. When I approached him, he said: ‘You will all die’”

“Let’s hope that was just some bizarre coincidence. What are the odds of another psycho deciding to wipe everyone out here?”

Wednesday kept her thoughts to herself, along with her theory that Tyler and Laurel Gates had only been pawns in someone else’s game. Her stalker? Maybe. But one thing was clear: whoever wanted to destroy Nevermore wouldn’t stop until they succeeded.

As Ian Fleming said: once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, and three times… it’s enemy action.

Donovan Galpin ran a hand over his face. In all his years on the job, Jericho had only dealt with minor acts of vandalism—it was a small town, after all. Yet in recent years, it seemed to have become a magnet for murderers. As he feared, Professor Brown had been killed minutes before being thrown out the window.

The forensic report indicated a stab wound to the neck with a shard of glass, which had been sent to him as evidence. It was thick and frosted, entirely different from the school’s windowpanes. The surveillance footage showed nothing, but there was a twenty-minute gap unaccounted for.

He couldn’t make sense of the motive. Could it be that Jacob Brown had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why would anyone pass through the high school when it should have been empty? There were no reports of theft or property damage.

Tyler.

A part of his mind couldn’t stop circling back to his son. Tyler was supposed to have been the only one left at the school, his car broken down. What if the attack had been aimed at his son, thwarted only by the presence of the professor—and himself?

He leaned back in his chair and took a long sip of his beer, feeling a headache begin to form.

For so many years, he had hidden the truth from Tyler and everyone else. It wasn’t just because of what the Hyde could do, nor solely the stigma of being an outcast. It was also because of what a power like the Hyde could attract.

His obsession with protecting Tyler, with keeping his true nature hidden, had blinded him to the glaring signs of the monster’s awakening. He had been so confident that the truth would never come out that he had failed to see his son slipping through his fingers.

He pulled out his phone and double-checked Tyler’s location. At home, as he should be. He closed the forensic report and picked up a new file, this one bearing the name of the new history teacher.

He didn’t want to be the cop who saw suspects in every outsider, but the recent events left him with no choice.

The snakes were restless, urging him to get out of there as fast as possible, and if it were up to Ajax alone, he wouldn’t have thought twice.

Not that he was a coward—far from it. He was there to protect his friends.

The spirits moved past him, as tangible as Bianca herself. A howl echoed in the distance, and his heart leapt in his chest.

What the hell was he doing here? He should be with Enid, watching over her, protecting her.

She’s already wolfed out, idiot.

A part of his mind wouldn’t let him forget that detail. The girl wouldn’t have any trouble defending herself. He’d only get in the way of the battle. Since Crackstone’s resurrection, a part of his ego had been irreparably bruised. He hadn’t done anything to help, and Enid had nearly died. Even a normie had been more useful.

And now he was here… hiding in the grass, shivering at the whispers of the ghosts.

A gunshot rang out, shattering the night, and he ducked behind a large rock.

“Ajax, now!” Bianca’s voice made him flinch. With hesitation, he pulled off his beanie.

The snakes went wild as Ajax stepped out of hiding.

“No!” he yelled.

Enid was walking toward him, her trembling body stained with blood. A shiver ran through her, and her eyes locked onto his. The look of horror etched on her face froze her in place, and Ajax felt his heart freeze as well.

Not just his heart. When he tried to move, he realized his legs were rooted to the ground.

Heavy hands gripped his shoulders, and when he turned, he saw him. The psychic. His wavy black hair framed sharp features and storm-gray eyes that seemed to pierce through him.

“Give me Addams, or this is what will happen.”

The man raised his weapon and fired again.

Enid’s statue exploded into millions of fragments, leaving nothing but a heap of dust.

Ajax woke up with a strangled gasp. His body was drenched in a cold sweat. He looked around, finding his roommate still peacefully asleep.

His phone buzzed against the nightstand. When he opened the message, he saw a picture of Enid sitting in the courtyard, smiling and chatting.

Chapter Text

Where is our Queen B?

Bianca Barclay has vanished from the scene. The only thing we know about this siren is that she’s enjoying the Italian beaches while the rest of us huddle together to escape the freezing cold of Jericho.

Envious?

Could it be more obvious?

We miss her, of course, but a hive can’t function without its queen Bee, and the throne remains vacant.

Who will take over the reins of Nevermore?

W ill another siren carry on her legacy, or will they let the vampires reclaim the power they once held?

But while we’re speculating, let’s get creative. The furry ones could shake things up by turning this hive into a pack and I'm all for it.

Could a gorgon follow the path to stardom like Medusa? Or will we crown a psychic to foresee the future of the Nevermorians?

All candidates are welcome, and I hope that by Valentine’s Day, our new queen bee will be crowned.

“You’re improving,” said Wednesday from behind Enid. The girl grinned, nearly bouncing in her seat. “An open war. Sadistic.”

“I know!”

“I hope there’s bloodshed.”

Enid’s smile faltered for just a moment before she hit publish and shut her laptop.

“You know, it could be you,” she said.

“I’m not interested. I’ve already told you that.”

“Don’t you want an army at your command?”

“I prefer to work alone.”

“Alone? Or with a Hyde?” Enid teased, raising a playful eyebrow. “You still haven’t told me how you two made up. Does it have something to do with that farm?”

Wednesday clenched her teeth and walked to her wardrobe.

“More like several days of torture and a common enemy.”

“I don’t buy it. Something happened there—I can smell it.”

Wednesday put on her jacket brusquely and turned to glare at Enid with disdain.

“Clearly, your nose is defective.”

Enid pouted briefly but recovered quickly. When she saw Wednesday grab her backpack, she jumped up from her chair.

“Are you going to Jericho? I’ll come with you,” she said hurriedly, grabbing her jacket and bag. “We’re meeting the others at the weather vane.”

“Lucky me,” Wednesday muttered as she left the room.

Enid quickly caught up to her. The rest of the group was already heading toward the gates. Xavier greeted Wednesday with a strained smile, and Ajax seemed to pale at the sight of her. He grabbed Enid by the shoulders and hastened his pace.

The twenty-five-minute walk felt endless. Wednesday stayed at the back of the group, listening to the lively chatter about the party they were planning and how they had finally found a venue. She noticed how Xavier kept glancing back at her as if wanting to say something but then thought better of it and looked ahead instead.

Pathetic, she thought.

Chapter Text

The whistle blew, and the basketballs stopped bouncing. One by one, they were placed into a large basket, and to mask his nervousness, Tyler walked over to where his towel and water bottle were.

The basketball team gathered separately with the coach, casting glances at the boys who had participated in the tryouts. Some nodded, while others seemed to laugh... Tyler couldn’t help but wonder which of those reactions reflected their thoughts about him.

He knew he wasn’t bad—he’d been invited to join the team a year ago. He hadn’t even had a chance to ask his father before finding himself with a full pass to boot camp in his hands, and the rest of his life spiraling downhill. But it wasn’t just his athletic ability being evaluated this time—it was also the fear he might incite in others.

The coach called everyone over, and the hopefuls lined up in front of the school team. Three were chosen: Josh, Andrew, and him.

A genuine smile crossed Tyler’s face as the team members approached to welcome them.

“Well done,” Colin said. “We finally have you here.”

The other boys patted him on the back as they led the new recruits to the locker room.

“There’s something I want to know,” Percy said. He was the team captain, and while they’d known each other since childhood, Percy had never gotten along with Lucas’s temperament, so Tyler and he had barely exchanged words in their lives. “And I promise it’ll stay between us, right, guys?”

“Yeah!” some said, while others nodded. The group closed in around Tyler, and he couldn’t help feeling threatened. The small confidence he’d gained from being chosen seemed to evaporate along with his smile.

“Now that you’ve become…” Percy gestured broadly at him. “That. Do you have super strength or speed? I don’t know, like Cap.”

Some of the boys laughed, and Tyler felt his stress dissipate suddenly. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at their curious expressions.

“No, I’m more like… Hulk, I guess” he said, shrugging. “I don’t have anything special unless I transform.”

“Bummer!” Percy said, visibly disappointed. “I thought your superpowers would help us beat Burlington’s team.”

“He could always be the mascot,” Colin joked from behind. “I’m sure that’d scare them, and we’d win by default.”

“Always so aggressive.”

The boys laughed and joked as they changed, and although Tyler barely participated in the banter, he started to feel more like a regular high school kid and less like a failed experiment. Apparently, his father was right. Who would have thought!

When he opened the door to his house, two pairs of eyes immediately fixed on him. Wednesday was seated at the dining table, looking over some files. Sussy lay sprawled on the floor in front of her, meowing as if in complaint when he walked in.

“You’re late,” Wednesday declared.

“Hello to you, too.”

Tyler dropped his backpack to the side and picked up Sussy, cradling her and speaking to her like a baby, which made Wednesday roll her eyes. He poured food into Sussy’s dish and grabbed drinks for both himself and Wednesday.

“Enid showed me the video,” she said, not taking her eyes off the bruise adorning his face. “You should remind Lucas and his pathetic entourage that they’re already on my blacklist.”

“Thanks,” Tyler said, taking her hand and giving her a half-smile. “But I’ve already taken care of it. At least he won’t bother me while he recovers.”

“Just remind them. My torture equipment’s getting a bit rusty.”

Tyler laughed. He glanced at the documents on the table, then at the open folder in front of Wednesday.

“Did you find anything?”

Wednesday handed him the papers, and the more he read, the more his brow furrowed.

“This is…?”

“The murder of the normie boy that got the hydes expelled.”

“Laurel told me it was her brother—that your father killed him. They needed someone to blame, and, well... ‘hydes are temperamental beast,’” he recited, mimicking the tone of the book Wednesday had shown him.

“In any case, it would’ve been my mother who stabbed Garrett Gates, but he was already dying. I suppose you know the truth.”

“A little. Laurel was furious they got away with it, and I overheard my father ranting about corruption and how the Gates family were genocidal maniacs.”

“For once, your father was right.”

“I thought they just managed to cover everything up.”

Wednesday shot him a sharp look.

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but I don’t think my parents are capable of killing anyone. For that, they’d have to take their hands off each other for a few minutes, and they seem incapable of such a feat.”

Tyler chuckled.

“Well, if you’d let me put my hands on you, I think you’d understand them.”

Wednesday blinked as she looked at him, and Tyler silently celebrated finally leaving her speechless.

"Stop acting like a hormonal teenager," she said, lowering her gaze. She seemed more nervous than annoyed as she pulled the folder from his hands.

"Fine, I’ll be the psychopath serial killer  you like so much."

The venomous look Wednesday shot him might have made anyone else break into a cold sweat, but all it did to him was provoke a deep laugh from his chest.

Xavier had undergone extensive training since his abilities first manifested. Of course, his father wouldn’t allow paternal negligence to tarnish the Thorpe family’s reputation as expert psychics. So, he knew a few things about his powers.

First, he could clearly distinguish between a real dream and a vision. In dreams, he was present, while visions felt like watching something on a television screen—he was just an invisible spectator. Moreover, visions seemed to arise from deep within his core; they were not purely mental but entirely emotional. When he was anxious, visions bombarded him relentlessly. Armed with that knowledge, he had started experimenting with ways to induce them.

So, if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that what he experienced in his dreams weren’t visions—at least not his own.

Could it be possible to send visions from one psychic to another?

He doubted it, but then again... he wasn’t the expert.

Since the incident with Dennis, he’d started documenting his dreams. They were like disjointed scenes—a dinner at a restaurant, the forest, the sound of water against metal. While none seemed connected, something about them unsettled him: the constant sensation of being watched. Someone was always observing him, yet he couldn’t pinpoint who.

Before calling his father, he decided to check the Dark Society library himself. For a couple of nights, he’d been sneaking out after curfew. He had just lit a few candles when he heard footsteps descending the stairs. He wasn’t even surprised to see Wednesday, and if she was startled by his presence, she didn’t show it.

She greeted him with a slight nod and headed straight to the journals of former members.

'You know you’re not supposed to be here.'

'I don’t see how you plan to stop me,' she said, without pausing her reading.

'Why don’t you just accept and join The Nightshades?'

'I’m not interested in being part of a social club. This pseudo-secret society has lost its purpose.'

'And yet, you keep sneaking in.'

Wednesday raised her gaze, and Xavier offered her an open smile.

'And your point is?'

'You need us. Whether you want to admit it or not.'

Wednesday slammed the book shut and began walking toward the stairs.

'I don’t need you. Perhaps the former Dark Society members, but not you.'

'What are you looking for? I could help you. I’m actually researching something similar—about dreams.'

Wednesday studied him for a few moments. Xavier knew she was evaluating him, deciding how much she could trust him, so he waited patiently. When Wednesday’s posture shifted slightly, he knew he’d won.

'I’m looking for information about the events that led to the Society’s dissolution.'

'The normie boy’s murder?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'That death not only caused the Society’s dissolution but also the hydes’ expulsion. I think that...'

The scoff Xavier let out cut her off, and she didn’t seem pleased by the interruption.

'Seriously, Wednesday? Now your entire life revolves around that idiot?'

'What you’re saying makes no sense.'

'Doesn’t it? Don’t you sneak off every day to see him?'

'Are you stalking me?'

'No! The entire school talks about it—you’re not exactly subtle.'

'I have nothing to hide.'

'Oh, sure. I suppose dating a murderer is something to be proud of,' he said with disdain.

'If you think I’m doing this out of some ridiculous sense of romance, you’re mistaken. I have my reasons, and I don’t need to share them with you. Nor do I need your help.'

Despite her usual stoic expression, Wednesday looked furious. Her steps were heavy, and Xavier could feel his blood boiling too.

'You can’t take that book,' he said, his voice cold enough to surprise even himself, though it didn’t seem to intimidate her.

Wednesday paused on the first step, barely glancing over her shoulder at him.

'Try to stop me.'

She walked away swiftly. Xavier let out a growl of frustration. Every time he got even an inch closer to her, Galpin appeared with his smug smile.

He remembered his dream, and while he shouldn’t feel relief, the most selfish part of him was glad that things wouldn’t end well for Tyler.

While the night air mercilessly lashed her face, Wednesday couldn’t help but think about how much of a hypocrite she’d become.

That afternoon, Tyler had dropped her off in front of the school gates, as he did almost every day, and leaned in to kiss her. It seemed to be a new habit developing between them. One she had done nothing to prevent.

The goodbye had stretched into nearly thirty minutes of kissing and touching. 

How could she demand composure from him when she herself couldn’t keep her hands off him the moment Tyler invaded her personal space? 

She didn’t need much imagination to feel the warm brush of Tyler’s lips against hers, the tickling sensation of his fingers tracing the line of her jaw and slowly descending to her neck, massaging it in rhythm with the movement of their lips. She remembered how his heartbeat thudded against her palm when she placed it on his chest. When Tyler gripped her waist firmly, she responded by clenching her fists and pulling him closer to her. Tyler left her lips and swiftly caught her earlobe between his teeth. In that moment, a jolt of electricity coursed through her body, as if a vision was about to seize her or someone had just shocked her with two hundred volts out of nowhere.

She jumped in her seat, and Tyler’s startled expression matched her own.

‘I’m sorry,’ she heard him mumble before she hurried out of the car, her heart pounding and her body burning from the contact.

It was pathetic.

And even more pathetic was feeling her stomach twist at the memory of what she’d been doing just a some hours earlier.

She could almost picture Tyler’s half-smile mocking her. “I told you so,” the gleam in his eyes would seem to say.

And then, there was the conversation with Xavier...

The sound of the cello cut through the air, furious. The irritation was eating away at her, against Xavier, against Tyler, against herself, and the stupid emotions she’d allowed to surface.

She would definitely need to start taking stricter measures.

The final note stretched like a battle cry, and Wednesday lowered her arms unsatisfied.

The following days, she didn’t go near Jericho or the woods. She focused entirely on regaining her routine: writing, Hummers’ activities, fencing practice, nocturnal serenades... She kept herself so busy that there was no room in her mind to think about Tyler, his lips or his hands. And most of the time, it worked...

However, there were those small moments when she found something interesting in the Nightshades Society’s library, and she couldn’t stop the thought of wanting to show it to him; or when she deflected Xavier’s advances with cutting remarks, and an image of Tyler’s smug smile formed in her mind; or when intrusive thoughts attacked her at the most unexpected times. Thoughts that included Tyler’s eyes fixed on her—or worse, a memory of the many kisses they’d shared.

She felt like she was becoming a version of her parents, and she hated it. She had to remind herself that she was in this kind of relationship because Tyler was her equal, her nemesis, not because she had any genuine romantic feelings for him.

After all, she was a raven, and her destiny was solitude. 

Sooner or later, this little distraction would end, and she would move on without looking back.

Despite all her denial and the internal conflict she was suffering, on the first Friday of February, she walked toward Jericho as planned. She passed through the town square and stopped in front of the cemetery. Temperatures had started to rise, but the afternoon was still cold and windy. People seemed very excited as local businesses began setting up Cupid decorations. If the activities involved shooting arrows at hearts, she might feel more inclined to celebrate the absurd holiday.

She watched as Colin came out of The Weathervane, serving one of the tables on the sidewalk.

Excitement began to pull at her stomach, and her lips stretched into a smile.

‘Wednesday?’

Her skin prickled, and she had to put in a great effort to maintain her impassive posture. She glanced at him in greeting, and Tyler approached her with a frown.

‘Is everything okay? You haven’t come home or to the woods.’

‘I’ve been very busy,’ she said curtly.

‘Okay, I get it. But you also haven’t answered my messages.’

‘I haven’t checked my phone.’

Tyler placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

‘Hey, if you’re upset about what happened the other night, I’m really sorry. I... I got carried away. I don’t want to pressure you or...’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she cut him off, turning her gaze toward the café.

‘Are you sure? Because it’s obvious you’re avoiding me.’

‘On the contrary, I was looking for you. There will be a bonfire at the lake tomorrow night. Enid asked me to invite you.’

‘Sounds great, but I didn’t think you were the party type.’

‘I have my own concept of parties. Anyway, once you’re there, we’ll head to the library. I want to show you something.’

‘The library?’ From the way he pressed his lips together, Wednesday could bet she wouldn’t get an intelligent response. ‘I don’t know what people do in the Nevermore library, but I can assure you that phrase means something very different in mine.’

‘Don’t even mention it. I saw two vampires getting fangy there last year, and it still haunts my nightmares.’

Tyler’s laughter caught her off guard, but before her mind could wander, a startled scream reminded her of her mission for the day.

Both teenagers, along with the other passersby, turned toward The Weathervane, only to see all the customers running out in fright. Then a small swarm of animals followed behind them. They were just forest rats, squirrels, and frogs, quickly scattering through the streets.

Wednesday and Tyler stepped back as a group of squirrels darted between their legs and disappeared among the graves.

Wednesday’s amusement was evident, and Tyler couldn’t help but laugh too.

‘So, you were looking for me, right?’ he asked with feigned annoyance.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Seriously? Do you really think you can lie to me?’

Before she could respond, Colin called out to them from across the square. He glared at them furiously, his red apron looking wet, and his bare arms showed splashes of hot water. Every muscle in Wednesday’s body tensed, ready for imminent action and eager to humiliate him.

‘It was you,’ he accused upon reaching them.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about...’

‘Don’t play dumb, Galpin.’

Tyler’s nonchalant expression dissolved, and he took his hands out of his jacket.

‘Only you two could be sick enough to do that,’ Colin snapped, pointing toward the café.

‘Do you have proof?’ Wednesday asked.

"As if I need it, freak."

Wednesday took a step forward, venom pulsing in her veins. However, Tyler was faster, stepping toward Colin and giving him a slight push, moving him away from her.

"If you don’t have proof, I suggest you shut up."

"Or what? You’ll kill me?"

The confused smirk Tyler gave him sent a chill down Wednesday’s spine. She knew that look all too well, that feigned innocence.

"Kill you? Of course not. But I might start by taking your tongue, and after that... What part of your body do you appreciate the most?"

Fear crossed Colin’s face for a moment, but he quickly recovered and took a step forward.

"I don’t believe you."

He grabbed Tyler by the lapels of his jacket, and Tyler swiftly pushed him against one of the cars.

"Do you really want to play?"

The shove seemed to have triggered Colin’s survival instincts, and his face turned pale. Wednesday could see exactly why. Tyler’s dark side was on full display, emanating a threatening and lethal aura.

Colin retreated in the most pathetic way possible. He had been humiliated; that much was clear, but it didn’t satisfy her thirst for vengeance.

When Tyler turned to her, his expression shifted in an instant. The Hyde retreated into its lair, and Wednesday’s blood felt like it was about to boil.

"Don’t do that again," she told him, rage coloring her words.

"Wedne—"

"My battles, I fight them myself."

She walked away with firm steps, though inside, she was nothing but a tumult of conflicting emotions.

Chapter Text

Tyler parked his car next to the gates of Nevermore Academy. He jumped the wall and slowly made his way down the cobbled path. It was past eight in the evening, the wind was merciless, and the leafless trees shook under the weight of winter. He hugged himself tightly to ease the cold.

As he walked, the gargoyles’ eyes seemed to follow him. Maybe it was just his paranoia, but he felt watched. The last time he’d set foot on these grounds had been to carry Wednesday’s unconscious body to the crypt where she would be used as a sacrifice. Before that, he’d unknowingly been the scapegoat for the attack on Thing, on Eugene… he himself had been tortured in a cave hidden in this woods. The thought made his skin crawl.. 

In short, his presence there usually ended with someone hurt or dead, so he felt entirely justified in starting to panic.

Slowly, the castle’s highest towers began to peek through the trees, and just before reaching the main entrance, Tyler took a side path that led toward the lake.

The vegetation thickened, and the path became nothing more than a strip of dirt cleared of weeds. He heard an owl hooting, and suddenly a branch snapped to his left. Tyler jumped, but in the darkness, he couldn’t see anything. He heard hurried footsteps and pulled out his phone, but when he managed to shine a light in that direction, there was nothing there.

The party, he reminded himself. Maybe it was just some students. Besides, what could be more dangerous than him?

Still, he quickened his pace until the music began to cut through the silence. The bonfire was large and stood in front of a small dock with several canoes. They’d turned the dock into a kind of bar, and behind the drink table he recognized one of Enid’s friends. There weren’t more than twenty people, and with a quick glance, he realized Wednesday wasn’t there.

A sinking feeling tugged at his stomach, one he chose to ignore, and he walked awkwardly toward the fire.

“Tyler!”

Ajax threw an arm around his shoulders and dragged him to the center of the bonfire circle. Tyler’s stomach twisted—he knew that even if Enid, Ajax, and Wednesday (on occasion) held no grudge against him, that didn’t mean the rest of the kids accepted him. He’d seen the way some of them looked at him, but the gorgon didn’t seem to care.

Before he knew it, there was a drink in his hand.

“Yoko’s mojitos are deadly.”

“No exaggeration,” Enid said, hugging her boyfriend.

“And Wednesday?”

Enid rolled her eyes.

“She’s above all this… what did she call it? Oh! Pathetic attempts at validation. But don’t worry. You and I are going to go get her and drag her back here. So start gathering courage.”

And as if courage were somehow mixed into the mojito, he downed half the glass in one go.

“Relax, babe. You’ve got all night.”

Ajax took the glass from his hands, and Enid launched into a full rant.

Minutes later, Tyler was behind the makeshift bar while Yoko taught him how to make some drinks. He had to admit, the girl did it with a hypnotic elegance that was hard to replicate. He only hoped he wasn’t being a terrible student. By the time he reached his third drink, Enid pulled him away and dragged him toward the dorms.

“We can’t go through the stairs,” she said in what was meant to be a whisper but absolutely wasn’t. “So you’re going to have to climb.”

Tyler looked up at the wall and the faint glow coming from the highest balcony.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“It’s easy,” she said, and to prove her point, started scaling the wall.

Tyler followed. The lower part was the easiest. Once they reached the first rooftop, Enid started jumping from room to room until she’d made it halfway. Tyler followed, his fingers going numb from the cold, a growing unease building in his stomach the higher he climbed.

“You go up from here,” Enid said, glancing at her phone. “I have to head back.”

“What?”

“Ajax says they need me.”

“What happened to dragging Wednesday together?”

“I trust you can handle it solo. Unleash your inner Hyde!”

“I don’t think you want me to do that,” he muttered.

“No, really, I don’t. Anyway, don’t take too long,” She warned him before disappearing behind the bedroom door. Tyler tried to follow her, but he heard the voices of the occupants and froze in place. He cursed, and with no other choice, he continued.

Wednesday’s two snaps echoed through the lonely halls of the school, and the Poe statue shifted to reveal a hidden staircase.

“Whoa! This is like Hogwarts,” Tyler murmured as he followed her down into the Nightshade library.

“Another school for outcasts? I suppose they’ve started to multiply.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, just in time to catch his genuinely puzzled expression.

“Something like that, I guess… it’s from a book.”

“I didn’t think you liked reading.”

“There’s a movie. I doubt it’s your style: dark magic, betrayal, teachers trying to kill their students, that kind of thing.” He shrugged.

“Sounds a lot like this school.”

Tyler let out a soft laugh, and as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Wednesday began lighting the candles that lined a small room.

“What is this place?”

“The secret library of the Nightshades. After Joseph Crackstone tried to wipe out the outcasts who lived in Jericho, for the first time, a group of people stood up to fight back. Goody Addams was one of them.”

Wednesday turned to look at Tyler, trying to hide the faint unease that merely mentioning her ancestor stirred in her. She had saved her from certain death—and Wednesday knew one day she would have to pay the price.

Only a life can pay for a life.

“Eventually, it became a secret society, founded right here at this academy. Their mission: to protect all outcasts.”

“Considering what happened last year, they don’t seem very good at it.”

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes, recalling her own disappointment.

“The society disbanded thirty years ago. It reformed, but now it’s just a social club that throws bonfires by the lake.”

Tyler raised his eyebrows, amused, pointing toward where he assumed the lake was—clearly proving his terrible sense of direction.

“Them?”

“Even Kent,” she said slowly, shaking her head. “Anyway, the former Nightshades seemed to take things a bit more seriously, and they documented every meeting.”

“Why did it fall apart? Does it have something to do with Garrett Gates’ death…?”

“I thought the same until we found the file. The real reason the Hydes were banned must be in here.”

“Besides being extremely aggressive and useful for carrying out creepy plans? Can’t imagine why they’d want them gone,” he said sarcastically.

“There are journals explaining how they helped them control their powers…”

“You’re not planning on testing them tonight, are you?”

“That’s why I asked you to come.”

“That’s a shame, because I had other plans.”

Tyler pulled her by the waist until all personal space between them disappeared. Wednesday caught the faint scent of alcohol on him, mixed with bonfire smoke. She knew he wasn’t actually drunk—but he had just enough alcohol in his system to lower his inhibitions.

“I thought you were still mad at me,” he whispered, caressing her hip.

“I’m not. But don’t ever do it again.”

Tyler nodded, though it didn’t seem like he was really listening. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

If there was one thing Wednesday could be proud of, it was not being naive. Life had stripped that from her early on, and when it came to matters of the heart, her parents had taken care of the rest—enthusiastically.

She had also done her research. Curious about what caused such obsession with romantic relationships, she’d read extensively. She knew the literary clichés and the things her classmates confessed in bathrooms as if they were confessional. She never understood any of it—it never sounded pleasant. And yet, Tyler had changed that.

That first kiss at the Weathervane had twisted her insides in a torturously delightful way. She had smiled, surprised. She never imagined that the sensations described in such syrupy terms were real, that they truly existed in the exact space between pain and pleasure.

Tyler made her feel all that, and it was as satisfying as an afternoon in an electric chair. So now she believed she understood—though she still didn’t get the need to describe romance in such a sweet way.

But as her back slammed against the books and Tyler’s body pressed against hers, leaving her no room to escape, she realized that there were kisses… and then there were kisses.

Whatever was happening that night was nothing like what they’d been doing for the past month. Tyler’s hands gripped her so tightly she was sure bruises would form. The books dug into her back, and his body seemed determined to fuse with hers. But the best part was the delicious sensation of suffocation that came with that long, desperate kiss. Her body was in chaos—self-preservation urged her to push him away, but the torturous pleasure begged for more. Wednesday tangled her fingers in Tyler’s hair, clenching tightly. A muffled groan escaped his throat and vibrated in her own. In that moment, she felt closer to madness than she ever had before.

Tyler pulled back abruptly, and one look at the predator-like gleam in his eyes made her grab his shirt and pull him back. This time, he attacked her neck like a vampire, and she felt once again as if a lightning bolt were about to split her in two. She inhaled sharply and let her head fall back. Tyler’s hands slid down to her legs, lifting her off the ground. Instinctively, Wednesday wrapped her arms around him when—

“What are you doing here?”

Xavier stood there, furious, crossing the room with long strides.

“You’re supposed to be at the party.”

“I noticed you weren’t at the bonfire. Figured you’d come back in here. Looks like I was right.”

“And why would you come here if you thought she’d be alone?”

“Tyler.”

His angered gaze locked on her, but even so, he backed off.

“Well, looks like you’ve been tamed,” Xavier sneered. “Just making sure you don’t walk out with another book. You’re not a Nightshade—and you,” he said, looking at Tyler with contempt, “even less.”

“As if anyone would want to be part of that pathetic excuse for a secret society.”

She grabbed Tyler’s hand and dragged him out of there.

They moved through the halls of Nevermore as if they had no fear of being caught. Tyler could feel the anger radiating off Wednesday like waves of heat. He was angry too—not just because of the interruption, but because it had been Xavier.

As if either of them needed more reasons to despise each other.

The moment they reached the bonfire, Enid spotted them and practically bounced with excitement.

"Bestie, you're here! I knew you’d make it,Ty!" she said, handing each of them a drink.

"What’s wrong with you two?" Ajax asked. "You look like you just walked out of Weems’ office."

"Xavier," Wednesday said with disdain. She took a sip of the drink they offered and scrunched her face in amusement.

"Oh! I saw him leave just now," Enid commented. "He still—"

The look Enid shot Tyler was anything but subtle. It’s not like he didn’t know Thorpe had been into her, but he hadn’t expected it to still be a thing. Wednesday simply rolled her eyes and refused to answer.

"I saved this for you guys," Ajax said, handing them what looked like slices of chocolate cake. His mischievous grin was suspicious, but Tyler took a small bite.

The first thing he noticed was that it was half-raw in the center, and the crust was totally burnt. There was no way it came from a decent bakery. Then he caught a bitter aftertaste that definitely didn’t belong—and the barely-contained grins on Ajax and Enid’s faces told him everything he needed to know.

"What’s in this?" Wednesday asked, watching it as if the brownie were about to explode. "Poison?"

"Something like that," Tyler said, laughing.

And before he could say anything else, Wednesday took a bite of hers.

"No!" Enid tried to stop her. "I didn’t think you’d actually do it."

When Wednesday realized it wasn’t poison at all, she just rolled her eyes and went to sit down.

The frustration both she and Tyler had been carrying slowly evaporated, thanks to Enid and Ajax—who seemed determined to make sure they had fun. Not even Xavier’s return, with his glowering stares, managed to ruin the mood. Tyler watched him approach Divina and Kent, speaking angrily, but whatever he was saying didn’t seem to concern the twins in the slightest.

To annoy him even more, Tyler suggested dancing. Enid made sure no one stayed seated. Between the laughter and trying to keep up with Wednesday’s rhythm, Tyler forgot to even check if his plan had worked—but he figured that any moment they spent enjoying themselves was torture enough for the psychic.

He couldn’t tell exactly when his head entered a haze—maybe it was the drinks, or maybe the weed—but everything suddenly felt far away. Like he couldn’t hold onto a thought for more than a second, and didn’t really care to. It was clear Wednesday wasn’t much better off.

She pulled away and hesitated before lying down on the ground beside him, watching the stars spin above. He felt her fingers searching for his and turned to look at her. Her cold palm against his warm one, her dark eyes reflecting the firelight.

“Wen… thanks,” he whispered.

And she smiled. He didn’t know if it lasted less than a second or an eternity, but whatever it was, his brain completely forgot how to breathe. With his free hand, he gently brushed her cheek, and she closed her eyes, both of them caught up in the quiet thrill of soft touches.

The party seemed to kick up a notch when Divina jumped onto the dock, shrugged off her coat, and dove into the lake to wild cheers. Other sirens followed suit, and the wolf pack wasn’t far behind. Soon everyone seemed to be in a full-on diving contest.

“We’re missing Tyler!” Enid shouted from the dock, and her brothers charged at him with a war cry.

“I can go on my own!” he protested, standing up and stripping off his coat and two shirts.

He glanced at Wednesday and smiled, then—quickly and without warning—scooped her up into his arms and ran toward the lake.

The cold water burst his mental bubble in an instant. Wednesday shoved him, pushing herself to the surface, and Tyler lost what little air he had left in his lungs, laughing.

“You’ll pay dearly for that,” Wednesday warned the moment she surfaced.

Tyler grabbed her tightly and whispered in her ear:

“I’m dying to suffer the wrath of your vengeance.”

He let her go ahead, so she could walk away with what dignity she had left, and when he climbed out, Enid was waiting for him—pointing her phone directly at his face.

“Oh em gee! Do you realize you just signed your own death sentence?”

Tyler just laughed and shook his head like a wet dog, splashing Enid in the process.

“I hope so.”

He ran to grab his clothes, then returned to the fire and offered his jacket. Wednesday gave him an unreadable look before accepting it. He had barely finished slipping the shirt on when she felt a tug and the girl motioned for him to follow her back to Nevermore.

Ajax smiled when he saw Wednesday and Tyler sneaking back into the school. If anyone still had doubts about their relationship, the way they’d been looking at each other all night should’ve cleared them up completely.

A part of him couldn’t help but feel bad for Xavier—he was his best friend, after all. But on the other hand, he felt relieved. Whatever the reason Xavier had for being so fixated on her, Ajax didn’t think it would end well for him. Saying Wednesday would break his heart was an understatement.

Besides, Enid seemed to be enjoying her favorite romantic movie come to life. He found her excitedly tapping away on her phone, and he couldn’t help but think about the photos she kept getting.

"Keep her safe," the last message had said.

He didn’t really think they were anything more than empty threats. Though he couldn’t imagine who they were from—and he didn’t want to worry anyone. After everything they’d been through last year, they deserved to just enjoy themselves.

Ajax adjusted his beanie—his snakes were wriggling restlessly, likely irritated by the blaring music. He sat down next to Xavier, and before the boy could even speak, a scream from the lake caught everyone’s attention.

The kids swimming rushed out of the water, and phone flashlights lit up. When they reached the edge of the dock, they saw the body of a woman slowly drifting toward them.

Someone called the police, and another ran to inform the new principal. The alcohol and drugs vanished before Mr. Shelly stepped out of the building—and so did some of the guests. It wasn’t until the police cars drove onto campus that they remembered the minor issue waiting in Ophelia Hall. Enid fired off a thousand texts to warn Wednesday.

Mr. Shelly didn’t seem nearly as lenient as Weems, and Wednesday had a knack for landing on every authority figure’s blacklist. A few minutes later, Wednesday slipped through the crowd, seizing the moment while the principal greeted Sheriff Galpin.

“Tyler wasn’t here,” she warned them all, her gaze promising a slow and painful demise to anyone who dared say otherwise.

Chapter Text

What should’ve been just a fifteen-minute drive turned into several hours as Tyler tried to make his way through the forest without getting lost. The fogginess in his head had vanished somewhere during his walk, when he found himself alone in the dark with no clue where he was. One thing was certain—walking had been a better idea than driving. Especially considering his car was still parked at the main gate… surrounded by cops.

Damn it. He was starting to realize that bolting from the school hadn't been the smartest decision. That was going to look bad... very bad.

He stumbled out of the woods abruptly, and the dawn light felt like two massive floodlights in his face. He ran the rest of the way home, and just as he turned the corner onto his street, he collided with someone as solid as a brick wall.

“Galpin, watch it.”

With quick reflexes, Professor Barnes caught him by the arm. Tyler stared at him, startled, the shoe in his hand falling to the ground as he stumbled, trying to pick it back up.

The impact gave him a brief flash of clarity—just enough to become painfully aware of his current state: barefoot, pants still soaked and caked with mud, hair a complete mess, shivering from the cold, his shirt filthy… not to mention the faint scent of alcohol radiating off him. He prayed that was the only scent he was giving off.

Barnes took one look and quickly pieced things together, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Good party, huh?”

A hysterical laugh escaped Tyler’s throat. Considering there’d been a dead body and a fugitive involved, that definition seemed a little too generous.

“Can you make it home?”

“I just have to cross the street,” Tyler replied, pointing at his house across the road.

“I’ll walk you.”

Tyler took a single step toward the house before suddenly stopping.

“What are you doing here?”

Barnes looked confused.

“I was out running,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—which, to be fair, it was, judging by his workout clothes and sweaty face. “I live over there. This is the route I always take.”

Tyler glanced at the house he was pointing to. He didn’t remember anyone moving into the neighborhood recently, but now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. Even holding onto a thought felt like a monumental effort—not to say remembering anything. It all slipped away like water through his fingers.

“Relax, I get your suspicion.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Tyler pushed past him and stumbled forward.

The house was completely silent. He dragged himself upstairs and collapsed on his bed.

Saying that Donovan Galpin was furious would’ve been a wild understatement.

The night before, he’d just been closing up his office when a hysterical call from Nevermore students lit up the station.

“A midnight body recovery?” he muttered to Santiago. “Just what we needed.”

He took four officers and the forensics team, ready to get it over with as quickly as possible. He had no idea the corpse would be the least of his worries that night.

The secret party didn’t surprise him. What did surprise him was finding Wednesday Addams among the students—and if she was there...

“Tyler,” he growled under his breath.

He looked for his son and came up empty.

The new principal gave them access to one of the classrooms to gather the students, which made the interviews and site investigation much easier. They found alcohol and several weed joints.

Everything pointed to the fact that he’d need to keep a close eye on those students. He scanned each of their faces, trying to commit them to memory.

The victim’s body was ghostly pale, her skin wrinkled like she’d spent far too long in a tub. He stared at the woman’s impassive face—she looked to be in her early thirties. Her lips were full but dry and completely colorless. Her long brown hair spread out across her back like a dark halo threatening to devour her. She looked like a white specter—drained of all life and color.

The coroner’s preliminary opinion was that it was a drowning, but even he could’ve figured that out.

He was handed a note found in the woman’s pocket, now sealed in an evidence bag, and the body was sent to the morgue. They’d notify him when more information came in.

When he rejoined Santiago, he knew something was wrong. The lieutenant handed him a phone, and his blood ran cold the moment he saw Tyler in the video—emerging from the lake, soaked from head to toe.

“Find him,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “He can’t be far.”

He shot Wednesday a furious glare before pulling out his phone and checking the tracking app he used to monitor Tyler. His signal was moving through the forest—not far from campus. He took Agent Turner with him, and just before they entered the woods, Santiago informed him that Tyler’s car had been found hidden near the main gate.

He gave them the coordinates of the possible location, and every officer launched into the search.

Chapter Text

Wednesday's hands trembled as she clutched the bed sheets tightly.

A whirlwind of emotions battled within her: rage, vengeance, despair, disbelief—but above all, pain.

And not the kind of pain she liked.

This was the kind of pain that crushed her chest, blurred her vision, and would only end when she plunged a knife into the chest of the one responsible, letting their blood spill across her face.

Wednesday demanded murder. Slow and excruciating.

She had just stepped out of the suspension hall when Enid’s phone began to ring wildly, as if possessed. She watched her friend turn pale as tears welled up in her eyes. Wednesday didn’t think much of it—Enid always got emotional over kitten rescue videos.

“What the fuck...?” Ajax muttered, peering over his girlfriend’s shoulder.

They both turned to look at her, faces stricken with horror, before showing her the phone.

In the photo, Tyler was tied up and beaten, looking like a grotesque animal someone had run over on the road. Wednesday felt her blood boil, and from that moment on, the emotions inside her only continued to rise.

“Cover me,” was all she can said before walking away.

And now here she was, standing stupidly beside Tyler’s bed, unable to do anything for him. Rage eating her alive from the inside.

How could this happen? He was a Hyde, a magnificent, lethal creature. How had he let this happen?

He had a concussion, two broken ribs, and several fractured fingers. Not to mention the scratches and bruises that covered every inch of his skin. The blood had been cleaned off, but the paint hadn’t come off completely. It looked like the M.O. of some Pilgrims who had long since earned their spot on her blacklist.

She gently took Tyler’s hand. His warmth wrapped around her, and when she saw his bruised, unconscious face, something inside her—something she didn’t even know she had—shattered. The tears she had fought so fiercely began to fall, heavy with guilt and regret.

If only she’d been there. If only she hadn’t gone to that pointless bonfire. If only they hadn’t argued about Xavier…

The door opened, and Sheriff Galpin appeared in the doorway. Wednesday wiped her tears quickly, refusing to look at him.

“Who did this?”

The sheriff collapsed onto the nearby couch, completely drained.

“The beating? No idea yet. The paint? Pretty much the whole school.”

“What have the doctors said?”

“They’ll run more tests tomorrow. Right now, the most important thing is that he wakes up.”

She nodded and turned her eyes back to Tyler.

Her gaze traced his face—from the gash on his right cheek to his split, swollen lip, and the bandage across his head that held down his unruly hair. For every wound she saw, she imagined a new way to make the culprit pay.

All she needed were names…

“I’m not leaving until he wakes up,” she said, never taking her eyes off him.

Sheriff Galpin let out a weary sigh and stood slowly, walking to the other side of the bed.

“I guess we can take shifts, then.” He held out Tyler’s phone. Wednesday eyed it suspiciously. “I’m going to check if they’ve caught the ones responsible. Call me if anything changes.”

She nodded, and the sheriff left, still slightly stunned at how quickly they’d come to an agreement.

“You’re humiliating yourself,” she told Tyler, teeth clenched in fury. “You can’t let them do this to you.”

And she missed it—the apologetic smile, the confused look, the quick-witted remark. She gripped his hand tighter.

She missed him.

Sheriff Galpin had always kept his reservations about Wednesday.

And honestly, who could blame him?

For over thirty years, he'd held the misguided belief that the Addams family were nothing more than criminals with enough money to buy their way out of justice. Sure, he was at peace with them now—or rather, indebted. An unpayable debt, after being given a second chance for his son and a reminder that the world wasn’t black and white. Ironic, coming from them.

Still, that didn’t mean he entirely approved of the relationship between their children. He still believed Wednesday was exactly the kind of girl who would break Tyler’s heart without a second thought—metaphorically and literally.

Probably both.

Or at least, that’s what he thought before that night. He would bet—confidently—that could count on one hand the number of times the Addams girl had shed a tear for another living soul. That Tyler was one of them... well, he didn’t love the circumstances, but at least it meant she wasn’t just using him as some science experiment.

That fact didn’t erase the other concerns either—like how Wednesday was a walking catastrophe who actively encouraged Tyler’s most violent and delinquent tendencies.

But still—something was something. And he had to cling to whatever little shards of hope life handed him. Otherwise, he’d drown deeper than he already was.

When he got back to the station, six teenagers were lined up against the wall. He grunted and barely gave them a glance before locking himself in his office. There were a lot of calls to make.

Wednesday had kept her word, and the sheriff seemed inclined to honor their unspoken truce. He had brought her a bland dinner as a peace offering and sat quietly in the chair across the room.

Doing nothing was stretching her nerves thin, so she focused on writing in her notebook, sticking to her scheduled writing hour. It wasn’t until nearly midnight that staff from Willowhill showed up, ready to take Tyler.

The sheriff was on his feet in an instant, and the shouting match echoed down the hall. The doctors quickly stepped in, preventing them from removing Tyler in exchange for leaving behind two nurses who looked like they’d trained in combat rather than first aid.

They were out of their minds if they thought she’d let them drag him away to that institution without knowing if he was truly okay.

Finally, Tyler’s eyelids fluttered like the heavy wings of a bat. When his green eyes locked onto hers, she let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. His lips pulled into what looked like a teasing smile, and the monitors began screeching like mad.

The nurses burst into the room like a tornado, pushing her aside and injecting a dose of sedative that could have knocked out a horse.

The attending doctors were furious with the intervention, but the Willowhill staff looked far too pleased with themselves.

If it were up to Wednesday, Tyler could transform and slaughter half the hospital—as long as it meant he was going to be okay.

She returned to Nevermore just after sunrise and collapsed into bed, ignoring Enid’s persistent questions. When she came back to the hospital, she found Tyler sitting up, eating something that looked absolutely disgusting.

If she had a heart, it would’ve skipped a beat so violently it would knock the air from her lungs. If she had a heart, it would’ve stopped at the sight of his painful smile—and a delicate warmth would’ve melted one more wall guarding that absurdly overvalued organ.

But she didn’t have a heart.

So the slight hitch in her breath was due to the fast walk from the school, and the fire burning in her chest was nothing but a fierce thirst for vengeance and pain.

“I want names. Now.”

“Wedn…”

Tyler set the tray aside and held out his hand.

“Don’t you dare suggest I let this go. It’s time they learned a lesson they’ll never forget.”

Tyler sighed and reached for her hand again. She stepped closer, just enough for him to touch her if he wanted. He didn’t waste time—he took her hand in both of his and traced small circles with his thumb, never looking up from their intertwined fingers.

Wednesday silently studied the healing of his wounds.

“My dad already caught them. I just confirmed it was all of them.”

She pulled her hand away sharply, deeply insulted. Tyler grabbed it again—this time much more firmly. The gentle warmth was gone. Now, his eyes burned with the promise of payback, bloodshot and vengeful. The darkness on his face was as deep and magnetic as the pull of a black hole.

“They’re mine,” he said.

“They deserve more than a month of community service.”

His crooked grin turned her stomach—and she wasn’t sure when she’d stopped trying to pull away.

“Don’t think for a second this is enough for me. I’ve got a plan, and this is just the beginning.”

Wednesday felt her chest swell with pride. For a while, she’d feared Tyler had lost his darker edge—buried beneath Willowhill’s pills and therapy. That they’d broken him so much, he couldn’t even face his wildest self.

But he was still there. Cruel, whole… and completely hers.

“I can help.”

“I’m counting on it.”

If she'd ever been possessed by the pathetic, overwhelming desire to lean in and kiss him, it was right then. Wednesday’s gaze dropped to his swollen lips—she could almost taste the metallic tang of his blood between them. Her mouth watered, and when her eyes met his again, she saw that same want clouding Tyler’s stare.

The door opened, and the boy's expression shifted in the blink of an eye.

"Sorry! I thought you were alone."

Wednesday studied the unfamiliar man. He was strong—she could tell by the way his light shirt clung to his muscles. But it didn’t look like the kind of strength built solely at the gym with supplements. He moved gracefully and held himself with near-perfect posture, contrasting with the casual way he slouched into the armchair.

Maybe she’d stared a bit longer than was socially acceptable, because Tyler cleared his throat beside her.

"This is my history teacher, Mr. Barnes. And this is Wednesday, my girlfriend."

Mr. Barnes raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees—far too interested for her liking.

"You're from Nevermore."

"You say that because I don't look like a clueless cheerleader and I probably fit into you imagined stereotype of Outcasts."

"I say that because I haven’t seen you in my classes," Barnes chuckled, throwing Tyler a glance she couldn’t quite interpret.

"Oh."

"Besides, who hasn’t heard of Wednesday Addams? You’re something of a heroine around here."

Rather than flattered, Wednesday pressed her lips together in deep offense.

"Anti-heroine would be more accurate."

Mr. Barnes laughed heartily, and she looked at Tyler, puzzled.

"Mr. Barnes just moved here. He’s replacing Professor Brown."

"You can call me Elijah, at least outside of school. 'Mister' makes me feel older than I want to."

The way Tyler subtly flinched beside her set off every internal alarm. She crossed her arms under her chest and scrutinized the teacher more closely.

"You don’t look like someone from Vermont, Elijah."

"No, I’m from San Diego."

"The uneven tan gave you away."

"You know the place?"

"I prefer San Francisco. Better weather."

"Sure."

He looked her over in a way that could only be described as evaluative. He was sizing her up, and she lifted her chin and straightened her spine even more.

Tyler cleared his throat again.

"Excuse me, sir, but what are you doing here?"

"Well, I’m here on behalf of your teachers. We've decided to leave you some assignments you can work on from home, considering everything that’s happened. We’ve been told you'll spend one week in the hospital and another at home before you’re ready to return."

"Wow. You’d think a near-death experience would excuse me from homework."

"Come on, Tyler. We both know you're stronger than that."

Wednesday arched one eyebrow ever so slightly, clearly unimpressed with the teacher's familiarity.

"I don’t think they pay you for this" she said. 

"Doesn’t cost me anything either, Wednesday. It’s called kindness."

Elijah Barnes stood and placed a large envelope on the desk.

"When you're feeling better, take a look. If you have any questions, my number's inside."

He gave a small nod and walked out. Wednesday didn't take her eyes off his back until he disappeared behind the door.

Xavier couldn’t shake the dream from his mind.

His hands trembled, and the page in front of him had been blank for over half an hour. He thought sketching it might help—but just like with Dennis, he didn’t know how to begin.

This wasn’t a vision—he was sure of that—because the murder had already happened before the dream. He had seen the body floating in the water a week prior. But then, how? No, better yet—who was sending him these messages? What was he supposed to do?

The dream had been hazy, inconsistent.

First, he was tied up in a basement with red brick walls, and it was cold—bitterly cold. He didn’t have the strength to lift a finger. Not that he could. His hands were wrapped in heavy chains that kept him completely restrained. Then he was in the forest, his feet dragging across the dirt path, carried easily in the arms of his captor.

Next, he was lying on the ground, staring up at the stars before the shadow of a man loomed above him. The man slipped a note into Xavier’s clothes, and for a second, his face caught the light. Dark hair spilling from beneath a cap, a square jaw dusted with the start of a beard. Xavier would recognize him anywhere.

"My deepest regards," the man said before pushing him into the lake.

Xavier felt the crash against the rocks, the sting of the cold water, the air leaving his lungs, and the last shred of life sinking with him.

He drew the first line in his sketchpad, beginning the outline of that man. It was the same guy they had stopped during winter break—the one who had followed them back to Jericho.

He tore out the page and grabbed the mask he kept hidden behind his desk. Moving cautiously through the hallways, he arrived at the old Poe statue. Two snaps revealed the hidden passage, and he quickly slipped into the shadows.

The other members were already there, each seated in their usual place. He glanced for a moment at Bianca’s empty seat and wondered where she might be now.

He needed her there. At his side.

The room quieted as soon as he sat down, but Divina was the first to speak.

"The bonfire was an absolute success, despite the ending."

"Or rather, thanks to the ending," Kent added, earning a disapproving glare.

"What? It's all anyone's talking about. Isn’t that what we wanted?"

"Not like that," Yoko snapped.

"I propose we pick someone to fill Bianca’s seat before Enid takes this popularity contest any further."

"Anyone know who she plans to back?"

"That’s obvious," Ajax laughed from his seat beside Xavier.

"She’s been talking about crowning Wednesday since last term ended."

The room filled with murmurs—mostly disapproving.

"Can’t you do something?"

"Enough." Xavier stood, fists clenched. "We have more important things to discuss."

"Enlighten us," Divina said, frowning at Yoko.

Xavier held up the sketch. No one reacted—except Ajax.

"He’s the one who killed the woman in the lake. I saw it in a dream."

"And what’s that got to do with us?" Kent asked."Go tell the sheriff."

"He caused Dennis’s fall," Xavier added, pointing at Yoko. The vampire crossed her arms. "And we’ve seen him before," he said, turning to Ajax. "He was after Wednesday and Tyler a few months ago."

"And what do you want us to do? Stop him?" Divina asked, incredulous.

"Exactly."

"Dude, you seriously need to stay away from Addams."

The laughter came instantly, and Xavier shot a deadly glare at Ethan—one of Enid’s brothers.

"We ignored Rowan last year. Are you going to ignore me too?"

Ajax slowly stood.

"Maybe we should take it seriously. I’ve been getting threats from an unknown number, and I think it’s the same guy."

He pointed at the sketch, and Xavier felt as if his soul had left his body.

How far had they already let their enemy get?

Sometimes the best way to rest was by switching activities—it cleared the mind, brought fresh ideas, and improved existing ones. Wednesday knew this well; it was something she practiced whenever a block kept her from finishing a chapter. It didn’t happen often, but she could recognize the symptoms: repetitive ideas, mediocre paragraphs, blank pages, zero flow.

This time, it wasn’t a writing problem, but she still felt the suffocating need for change. So that night, knowing the sheriff would be at the hospital, she decided to sneak into the morgue.

The fact that Tyler had excluded her from his revenge plans had annoyed her. Ever since hearing the news, her mind had done nothing but imagine and fantasize about tortures specially designed for each of the attackers—and just like that, those brilliant ideas had been thrown in the trash. But on the other hand, she was intrigued. She wanted to see what he was capable of, and a spark of excitement had begun to ignite in her dark soul.

She truly hoped he wouldn’t disappoint her.

So she had no choice but to put her mind to work on other matters, which led her to slip into the morgue office.

Something she might not admit out loud was that she missed the conveniences of having Thing as an accomplice. Maybe she should ask her parents to send him over—though the vain hand never stopped complaining about how it had been treated.

Wednesday closed the window she had entered through and quickly disabled the cameras in the procedure room. Without wasting any more time, she went for the body.

Marina Harborwind was a twenty-eight-year-old woman, single. Her skin was pale and showed no visible signs of bruising or trauma. Wednesday examined every inch of her skin—it was strange that there were no signs of struggle on her arms, nothing to prove the woman had tried to stay afloat. However, there were bruises and scratches on her feet. Curious.

Something that caught her attention were the obvious needle marks on both arms—fresh ones. Medical tests? Drugs?

She didn’t look like the usual meta-heads that used to gather at Jericho’s old meeting house.

Wednesday took her own notes before returning to the office and looking up the forensic report. The cause of death was listed as drowning, evidenced by generalized edema and water in her lungs. Yet the notes were more than intriguing.

Marina Harborwind had been doomed to die that night. The ridiculous amount of blood in her veins wasn’t even enough to keep her conscious. So... why the suicide note? How had she reached the lake in that condition?

Was this the way a rookie handled a body... or was it something else?

Chapter Text

Tyler was cold. His body trembled, and it felt as though his arms would be torn from him in any moment. He opened his eyes, and the whole world spun around him. He tried to stand, but his feet slipped over the muddy ground.

“Darling. I’m right here.”

The sickly-sweet voice made his stomach churn; he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing this were all just a nightmare.

“What do you want?” he asked, almost pleading.

“I want you, Tyler. Open your eyes.”

He refused, and the punishment for his disobedience came swiftly. A sharp knife slid quickly along the skin of his abdomen—first came the burning, then the warmth, just before his blood began to flow. He clenched his eyes tighter and ground his teeth until they creaked. Another cut came—longer, deeper.

“Stop, please.”

At last, he opened his eyes, only to focus on the detestable woman.

“See?” she said, stroking his cheek. “You just need to be obedient, Tyler. I’m here to help you.”

“My father will come…”

“Oh, darling! Didn’t I tell you? The sheriff wrote—he’ll be in Burlington for a couple of days. It’ll be just you and me…”

Tyler’s tears slid down his cheeks, and Marilyn Thornhill wiped them away with her gloved hands.

“No, Tyler. This doesn’t have to be something bad. You need discipline, and I will help you.”

“I just want to leave. Please—”

“And what about what I want, darling? What about what I want?!”

Marilyn Thornhill screamed and plunged the knife into his flesh—but instead of the tearing agony of the wound, Tyler screamed from the electric shock coursing through his body.

“You’re the monster,” said Wednesday, her eyes burning with vengeance. “You only understand the language of pain.”

His joints were numb, his breathing ragged, but he was lucid enough to notice the smile on the girl’s face.

“No, I’m not. Don’t do this, please. Help me.”

Marilyn drove the knife into his leg—yet suddenly it was Wednesday laughing, gripping a hammer. His screams echoed off the cave walls, but the laughter was louder—more chaotic.

“Submit to me, and this will end,” said Wednesday—or was it Marilyn? “Accept me, monster.”

Wednesday plunged a knife into his chest again and again, her frenzied face spattered with blood.

Tyler awoke, gasping for breath, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he fought to steady himself. Just a nightmare… a horribly real nightmare.

Someone moved in front of his bed, and Tyler recoiled.

“Jeez!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Sophie apologized, raising her hands from the edge of his bed.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, catching his breath. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… what are you doing here?”

“We’re still partners for the Biology project.”

Tyler grimaced, and Sophie shrugged.

“Sorry. I know it’s the last thing you want to think about.”

“It’s fine. I don’t exactly have a lot of distractions while I’m stuck here.”

Sophie gave him a timid smile, sitting beside him, setting her backpack down, and adjusting her pale pink sweater.

“In case you’re interested, the basketball team got punished. They won’t be in the championship.”

“And here I thought justice didn’t exist.”

Tyler smiled at her, and her smile widened even more.

The adrenaline that only a good mystery could bring surged through her veins—she even felt on the verge of smiling. Inspiration had her so deeply gripped that she hadn’t stopped writing until she’d finished a chapter. She was certain she could turn in the new manuscript ahead of schedule.

Now, the real mystery called her, and Wednesday strode quickly through the hospital corridors. When she pushed open Tyler’s room door, she collided directly with a pink surface.

She didn’t have time to pull her face away from that detestable texture before her body was wracked by a convulsion, her head jerking sharply.

Wednesday saw a room of red brick and dim light, heard water dripping onto metal, and in front of her was a girl tied to a chair, brown hair falling over her face, wearing that hideous sweater.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and her stomach twisted with unease—but as quickly as the vision began, it ended. She stepped back, regaining her balance, and looked in surprise at the girl in front of her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Wednesday blinked twice before glancing at Tyler, who looked ready to jump out of bed, then back at the girl. She wore that same forced-friendly smile Wednesday had seen on countless therapists. One glance was enough for Wednesday to know how easy it would be to break it. Not even worth the effort.

“My name’s Sophie, we’re class—”

“I need to speak to Tyler. Privately.”

Sophie looked at Tyler in confusion, but he simply bid her goodbye.

“I was just leaving,” she murmured, but Wednesday brushed past her without another thought.

“Was that… a vision?” Tyler asked hesitantly once they were alone.

“Yes. I suppose she’s going to be kidnapped.”

Tyler raised his brows.

“Are you sure?”

“Unless some other lunatic wears that hideous sweater, yes. Probably, is something Enid would like.”

“Shouldn’t we warn her or something?”. Tyler said, looking from her to the door.

“Warning about visions doesn’t stop them from happening. If anything, they happen faster. Remember Rowan.”

“What’s the point of having visions if you can’t do anything to change them?”

“I didn’t choose to have them, Tyler. I suggest you find a replacement for whatever project you need to do." She said it with the same lightness of someone talking about the weather. "Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Show me the note from the victim in the lake.”

Tyler took a few seconds to find the photo on his phone, and Wednesday’s eyes devoured every word.

“I suppose it’s not a suicide note?”

“It’s a riddle. Look at the capital letters and all the unnecessary talk about water. The next victim will be a siren.”

“At least we know they’re all at Nevermore—it won’t be hard to keep an eye on them.”

“She won’t die. There’s a pattern. Your normie teacher—dead. The vampire boy—not dead. The woman in the lake—dead. So whoever the next victim is, they won’t die.”

“Which means the one who will die will be another normie. I don’t know if I should be relieved that I’m not one anymore. What else do you know?”

“She was thrown into the lake alive, though most of her blood had been drained. She had small puncture marks on her arms.”

Tyler frowned as he reread the letter.

“So… the next death will be by a siren’s power?”

Wednesday said nothing, but her steady gaze pressed him to continue.

“First attack—a normie,” he said, holding up one finger for emphasis. “Second—a vampire trying to kill himself like a normie. Third—no blood, as if done by a vampire.”

“That would be very primitive. Vampires no longer usually take directly from their victims.”

“Come on! Don’t tell me you hadn’t thought of that?” Tyler grinned.

Wednesday seemed to study him for a moment before crossing her arms.

“Each attack would be connected to the previous and the next,” she murmured, considering the possibility. “It’s an acceptable theory.”

“Admit it—I’ve surprised you,” he replied with a goofy smile.

“Don’t get too smug. You’ve only proven yourself competent enough to replace Thing.”

“Wow, Wednesday. I’m truly flattered to know my whole body can do something better than just one hand.”

“You should be. Thing has been involved in multiple international crimes, and unlike you, he’s never been caught.”

“Ouch?” Tyler wasn’t sure whether to take it as an insult.

“If you’re going to start feeling sorry for yourself, I’d better go.”

“No! Stay. Please.”

Wednesday sighed, feigning a weariness she didn’t truly feel. She glanced at the door, then at Tyler, before sitting beside him on the bed. She tried to ignore the boy’s foolish grin as he draped an arm over her shoulders.

Donovan confirmed the address on his phone with the one he had written down in a small notebook. He turned off Tyler’s car and slowly circled the old building.

According to a report, the piece of glass found in Brown’s neck came from an antique stained-glass window that no longer existed. However, there were still a few buildings with windows made from that kind of glass, and that’s why he had traveled to Burlington on his day off. He walked around the old building that housed an employment agency, carefully inspecting each window before going inside. The place was nothing more than a large box filled with chairs for waiting and a handful of cubicles in the back. The sheriff walked up to one of the empty ones.

"Fill out this form and then…"

"I’m not here for that."

The young man attending him couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, and until Donovan interrupted him, he hadn’t even bothered to lift his eyes from his phone.

"Then why are you here?"

"I need information about the people you’ve sent to Jericho."

Donovan flashed his badge, and the young man immediately paled.

"I’ll… I’ll go call my boss".

As soon as the young man stood up, the sheriff took note of his name: Josh Davis.

A woman of about fifty took the young man’s place, apparently the one in charge of running the agency.

"It will be my pleasure to help you, Sheriff. But as you know, we’ll need a formal request from the Burlington police department".

"That’s why I came in person."

The woman gave him an awkward smile.

"It’s protocol. Once we receive it, we’ll review the files and send them to you by mail. I can’t provide that information any other way".

Donovan muttered something under his breath and stood up.

"Is there a restroom I can use?"

"At the end of the hall, to the right."

The hallway was narrow and windowless. Above one old, stained door was the sign for the restroom, and next to it another door marked “Storage.” Donovan went into the restroom first and pulled from his jacket the shard of glass used as the murder weapon. He compared it with the windows—it was a match.

He then stepped into the storage room, a small space crammed with shelves. The only window had a newer, cleaner frame; light came in easily, and the glass was noticeably thicker and lacked the intricate decorative pattern.

Donovan left before anyone found him and headed to the Burlington police station. He knew most of the people there and greeted them with a simple nod as his eyes quickly scanned each window and door.

"Sheriff Galpin, what brings you here?"

"Amelia" he greeted the middle-aged woman who had worked as a secretary all her life— "Is Travis here?"

"He’s on a call, but I’ll let him know you’re here as soon as he’s done."

The Burlington station was much larger than Jericho’s and seemed to be buzzing with activity. Donovan knew most of the cases involved teenagers, drunks, and vagrants. He almost missed those times back in Jericho—his office was starting to look like a gallery of all the possible ways to kill someone.

Travis McCoy, the sheriff of Burlington, waved at him from his office window with the same forced cheer that hadn’t faded over the years. Donovan smiled back, the expression feeling strange on his face. Travis called him in almost immediately and quickly launched into talk about the good old days at the academy.

"And little Tyler? Doesn’t he follow you everywhere anymore?"

"He’s more entertained following his girlfriend around these days".

Travis let out a hearty laugh.

"Like father, like son. So, what brings you here, Don?"

"I wanted to ask you a favor. I need the information on the people the employment agency has placed in Jericho".

Travis furrowed his brow and leaned forward.

"You’re not going to tell me more than that?"

"Just a hunch. I’d like to check my theory before I start sounding paranoid."

"They’re very professional, though a bit old-fashioned—still all paperwork with them", he complained. "At the end of last year, they sent me a technician to check all the security cameras. Great guy."

"Maybe he should take a trip to Jericho, then. Our cameras record everything… except what I actually need."

"You know you could’ve just emailed me about this, right? No need to come all the way here on your day off."

Donovan shifted uncomfortably. He had always thought of Travis as someone he could trust completely, and it didn’t feel right to keep things from him. But as long as the Burlington station was on his list of suspicious places, he had to. He hoped he was wrong.

He looked at Travis’s round, rosy, jovial face, and an idea clicked in his mind.

"I’m thinking of having a barbecue at my place this weekend. Tyler’s been in the hospital, and I wanted to surprise him".

And he sure would be surprised, Donovan thought. Even he didn’t believe the words that had just come out of his own mouth.

Travis’s smile widened, and he promised he’d be there.

"Bring someone along if you’d like."

Donovan didn’t breathe easy again until he was back in his car. He took out the notebook and crossed the station off his list—only two more buildings left to check.

Chapter Text

Bianca vaulted over a wall and slipped into an unfinished building. The place had only a few columns and half-built walls, with construction materials scattered across the floor. She ducked behind a large cement mixer and tried to steady her breathing.

The night was eerily quiet; only the faint hum of traffic a few blocks away reached her ears. Her hand instinctively went to where her amulet used to hang—a nervous tic rather than an attempt to check for it. She already knew it wasn't there. Gabrielle had gotten rid of it the moment she'd returned from New Haven.

The screech of the gate opening froze her blood. Bianca peeked out and spotted her pursuer. Heavy boots crunched over the gravel, and a dark trench coat rippled in the wind. She darted toward the next piece of machinery, keeping to the shadows, but hadn't counted on the motion-sensor lights. A harsh white spotlight flared to life over her head, bathing her in light and washing away all hope.

"Damn it," she hissed, before bolting toward the building's columns.

Her pursuer let out a low chuckle and gestured with his hand; three people immediately rushed after her.

Bianca grabbed a long metal rod. The three figures surrounded her.

"Stay away from me," she commanded, using all the power of her siren's voice. "You'll catch that man and you'll let me go."

The three men stood rooted in place, their faces contorting in strange grimaces—a visible internal battle as they tried to obey two opposing orders. Her siren song was fighting against something else for control.

"Now," Bianca ordered, fully expecting to be obeyed.

One of them hesitated, taking a small step back, but before he could do more, a bullet pierced the center of his forehead.

Bianca screamed, clutching the metal rod tighter.

"Little siren," the man called, his voice chilling, "we only want to play."

She spun on her heel to face him, and there under the harsh white light she recognized him—the same masked man from New Haven. Jet-black hair, a square jaw, and ice-blue eyes.

The two remaining men used her moment of shock to grab her. She fought with everything she had—kicking, thrashing, screaming until her throat burned raw.

"Let me go! Stay away from me!"

But her siren spell had no effect on those minds.

Controlled minds, was her last thought before the man with the blue eyes pressed a cloth to her nose and the world went black.

Tyler took the stairs two at a time until he reached his room. The moment he opened the door, he nearly jumped back in fright. Wednesday stood by the window, cloaked in shadows, barely sparing him a fleeting glance as he entered. Though her posture hadn't shifted and her expression remained neutral, Tyler could swear she was mocking him with the wicked glint in her eyes.

Once the initial shock passed, he approached her and looked out at the gathering happening in his front yard.

"It's unsettling to see him so cheerful," Wednesday murmured, her eyes locked on her father, who was animatedly greeting the Sheriff of Burlington.

"Wait until you see him up close—it'll give you nightmares."

Tyler wrapped an arm around Wednesday's waist, pulling her toward him and letting his chin rest atop her head. In the window's reflection, he caught her shooting him a murderous glare, but she didn't pull away.

"Interesting choice of guests."

"I know. He said something about thanking everyone who helped me, but I have no idea what the police department has to do with it."

"For that matter, Enid and Ajax shouldn't be here either."

Wednesday tilted her head up to look at him without stepping out of his embrace.

"They're my friends," he replied matter-of-factly.

"You said the same thing about the basketball team—and they did contribute. Will they be here?"

"'Contribute' isn't the word I'd use," Tyler said with a doubtful look.

Wednesday scoffed and turned her gaze away from him.

"Revenge is a dish best served cold, Wednesday. You, of all people, should know that."

With deliberate gentleness, Tyler caressed her cheek. His casual tone and soft gestures belied the fact that he was talking about the potential torment of six teenagers.

"I prefer to enjoy my meal while I'm still hungry."

"If you're that desperate, we can always start with dessert."

Wednesday turned her gaze back to him, curiosity glinting in her eyes, only to be met with a devouring stare. His hands slid slowly beneath her blouse, fingertips brushing the smooth skin of her back, and he smirked when an involuntary shiver ran through her body.

"This would only be an appetizer," she teased. "You'll have to try harder if you want to distract me."

"An appetizer, huh?"

The words sparked a challenge in Tyler's eyes. In one swift motion, he pinned her between his body and the wall, capturing her earlobe between his lips. He felt Wednesday's body tremble and couldn't help but grin.

The first time it had happened, they'd both given in to the moment, but Tyler had quickly discovered just how much he enjoyed teasing her this way—how her body tensed and her control slipped, how she reacted on instinct. Somehow, he could always coax a look of pure bewilderment from her, as if it were always the first time. And he loved it. It made him feel like he commanded the situation, even if, in truth, he barely managed to control himself.

Wednesday clutched his jacket, leaning her body into his as he trailed the curve of her neck with the tip of his nose. A sigh began to escape her chest as she tilted her lips toward his—but he pulled away.

The confused, slightly wounded look on her face almost tempted him to surrender to his own game. But Tyler wasn't a rookie. He flashed his most smug grin and said:

"Wouldn't want to spoil you and ruin your appetite for the main course."

Anger and embarrassment rose quickly in Wednesday, showing in a faint blush and accusing glare. She took a step back.

"Fine."

"It was just a joke."

Tyler reached for her hand, but she snatched it away.

"A proper Hyde eats his veggies before dessert."

With quick strides, Wednesday left the room. It took Tyler a few seconds to snap out of his daze before bursting into laughter. He followed after her; by then, Wednesday was halfway down the stairs.

"But when I'm done with them," he called after her, "I'll expect my reward."

Wednesday barely turned her head, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"You'll have it—if you earn it."

Tyler stepped out of the house a couple of seconds after Wednesday. Enid and Ajax had already arrived, but before he could join them, his father called him over.

The boy felt incredibly uncomfortable standing next to his father, pretending they had a great relationship in front of strangers. He didn't understand the act; every cop in Jericho's department could attest to the Galpins' agonizing family life. If his father had never cared about keeping up appearances with his own colleagues, why bother with the Burlington officers?

Every so often, Tyler glanced toward the porch where his friends were, and each time he caught Wednesday's gaze on him, it felt like something tugged hard at his gut. He couldn't believe they'd actually talked about what he thought they'd talked about. Not that he hadn't imagined it more than once—she haunted his dreams and nightmares more often than he'd admit without shame—but he'd never thought she...

"Donovan, let the kid go. He's exactly as you described," Travis McCoy chuckled.

"Anyone would rather be with their friends than interrogated by two cops," said Peter, the communications tech Sheriff McCoy had brought along.

"It's in his genes—his father was even worse when he met his mother."

"Oh yeah?"

Tyler looked at his father with curiosity, who now seemed slightly uncomfortable. Tyler thought it was the perfect moment to make up for the forty minutes of family torture he'd just endured.

"You've never told me that."

Travis McCoy seemed eager to reminisce about the old days. Tyler ignored the silent warning in his father's eyes; after so many years, that trick didn't have the same effect anymore.

"Donovan was obsessed with the kids from that school," he said, waving a hand vaguely toward the woods. "Especially with one who had barely escaped spending his entire life in prison." Tyler shot his father a meaningful look. "I remember Noble telling him to let it go, but of course he didn't. And through all the back-and-forth, he met Fran."

"So she went to Nevermore?" Peter asked.

"No," Donovan answered quickly. "She lived near the academy."

"Yeah," Travis confirmed. "A year later her family was moving, and Donovan asked her to marry him to stop her from leaving."

"It wasn't as rushed as you make it sound."

"Wasn't it? You'd only been dating for a few months."

Tyler forced an awkward smile. The pleasant feeling of learning something about his mother had turned into a cold bucket of water with how his father denied his true nature. Not just his mother's.

"It's ironic that the man you were so obsessed with is Wednesday's father," he said with more venom than he intended.

By the time the entire charade was over, Tyler's mood had soured considerably. Shortly after he rejoined his friends, Sophie arrived. She had barely been there a few minutes before Wednesday's not-so-subtle threats started flying.

"Why do they have to dissect animals?" Enid asked with a look of absolute disgust.

Sophie shrugged, but before she could answer, Wednesday cut in.

"Luckily, Tyler has experience with the process," she said, eyeing her up and down as if assessing how her organs might look in a jar of formaldehyde. "Though he prefers doing it on humans."

With her eyes wide open, Sophie turned to him. If Wednesday had intended to scare off the only person who neither feared nor hated her yet, it seemed she'd succeeded.

"I've heard something about that."

"And you're not scared?" Wednesday added with her trademark sarcastic tone. "I can't decide if that's bravery or stupidity."

"Wednesday!" Enid and Tyler exclaimed in unison.

"Don't take it personally," Enid said, placing a hand on Sophie's arm. "She's like that with everyone."

But Sophie wasn't intimidated. The sweet smile that was usually ever-present on her face vanished, and her eyes swept over Wednesday as if truly seeing her for the first time, as if only then she noticed all her eerie quirks.

"Bravery, I hope," she said with a self-deprecating laugh, though there was a spark of caution in her eyes. "I try not to end up on Tyler's blacklist."

"So far, you're doing fine," he added, ending the subject.

When he finally got a chance to speak with Wednesday privately, Tyler didn't let it slide.

"You didn't have to be like that."

"I don't trust her."

Tyler turned to look at Sophie with her fluffy curls, petite frame, and the way she swayed on her feet. Not intimidating at all.

"She hasn't done anything, Wednesday. She's only been here a few months."

Wednesday also scrutinized her as if she were one of Nevermore's carnivorous plants. Tyler couldn't help but wonder if, where he saw an ordinary girl, Wednesday saw a potential enemy.

An idea crossed his mind, and he couldn't help but chuckle at himself.

"Don't tell me you're jealous?" he teased, tilting his head to emphasize the jab.

Wednesday spun toward him so fast she might have snapped her neck.

"If I were jealous of anything," she stressed, stepping closer to him, "it'd be knowing she'll have a decent kidnapping. The last attempt was disappointing."

"I'll keep that in mind for future ideas."

Wednesday averted her gaze, and if Tyler didn't know her better, he would've sworn she was embarrassed.

"What's he doing here?" she asked when Mr. Barnes approached his father.

"What? You don't trust him either?"

"Maybe I'm just being jealous," she spat, dripping with venom.

Wednesday walked off, and Tyler watched Mr. Barnes looking at them. With a slight tilt of her head, Wednesday greeted him from afar, and the teacher did the same. Tyler furrowed his brow, and the amused smile vanished from his face.

Ever since she'd decoded the message on the suicide note, Wednesday had spent several nights inspecting every crack in the balcony stone, the grass in the yard, and even the path Dennis had taken before leaping from one of Nevermore's towers.

She hadn't found the note yet—if it even existed—and thus hadn't been able to prove the connection between the series of attacks.

There was only one place she hadn't searched, and she was sure it held the definitive clue.

She waited hidden for hours until the boy's room was empty. Fortunately, a garlic problem at dinner would keep him in the infirmary long enough for her to search every nook and cranny of that room.

The first place she checked was the backpack, rummaging through every notebook and pocket she could find. Then she looked in the desk drawers. She found nothing but scissors, pencils, pages full of doodles, and cards he'd received during his time at the hospital. For a moment she feared the evidence was gone. Maybe it had been on the balcony and blown away by the wind; or shredded when the lawn was mowed. However, when she reached the messy table by his bed, Wednesday found a crumpled piece of yellowed paper. As soon as she unfolded it and her eyes landed on the neat handwriting, her body froze and she collapsed to the ground with a loud thud.

In her vision, she was back in Nevermore's hallways. She felt the icy air of that night, darkness surrounding her. Dennis passed by her, his steps rigid, unwavering, and when Wednesday looked at his face, his expression was blank. His eyes were wide open but didn't look or blink. He moved like an automaton. She searched for the person who could be controlling him but found no one. Around her, the darkness rose, suffocating, pushing them toward the balcony with each second.

It wasn't just the absence of light; it was something physical, hemming them in. Wednesday felt the hair on her arms stand on end and her heart start pounding frantically.

She looked for Dennis, now climbing onto the railing, and saw him leap into the void without the slightest hesitation. When Wednesday leaned over, all she could see was the fog swirling below.

She heard a sharp step behind her and quickly spun on her heels. There stood the psychic, with his tweed jacket, wavy dark hair, and stormy eyes, staring at her with a kind of triumph.

"You!"

He reached out a hand and grabbed her by the neck, lifting her into the air. Wednesday felt her lungs painfully expand in their search for oxygen and her throat burn from his grip. She gasped like a fish, kicking to break free, but no blow lessened the man's iron hold, and soon the dizziness from lack of air began to set in.

It was an overwhelming sensation.

The psychic hoisted her over the void as if she weighed no more than a ragdoll. The fog rose in tendrils that licked her heels.

"You'll be the last to die," he promised before letting her go.

The fog had turned into fire, and Wednesday felt the searing heat of the flames consume her before she jolted awake, gasping for air.

Chapter Text

Tyler froze when he saw his father still sitting at the dining table. The morning news had just started on the TV, and normally Donovan would already be at the sheriff’s station by now.

“Don’t you have work today?” Tyler asked, dropping his backpack hesitantly by the chair. He could count on one hand the times his dad had ever skipped work.

Though “skipping work” wasn’t exactly what Donovan was doing.

“Yeah,” his father muttered distractedly. “I don’t want to be bothered by neighbors whining on the phone all day.”

Donovan didn’t even look up from the stack of documents in his hands. Great, Tyler thought grimly. The dining room was about to become the town’s second sheriff’s station. He wondered how long it would take before officers started barging into the house, and if he could escape to university before that happened.

He poured himself a quick breakfast and sat at the far end of the table, while the newscaster reported the disappearance of Brandy Jane in New Jersey.

Tyler noticed that the files Wednesday had been studying were stacked neatly on one of the empty chairs. He couldn’t help picturing his dad and his girlfriend working together in here—like keeping a live bomb right in the middle of the room.

“Why do you have a file on my history teacher?”

Tyler tried to grab the folder closest to him, but Donovan yanked it away with a low growl.

“Wow. Nice talk, Dad. Communication’s really improving between us.”

The elder Galpin pressed his lips into a thin line and began shuffling papers, pushing them out of reach.

“So, Addams is digging into that murder,” Donovan finally said, almost forced, nodding toward Wednesday’s notes with a very obvious attempt to change the subject.

“Yeah. Thanks for respecting other people’s privacy.”

Donovan shot him the usual disapproving look. Nothing new.

“She should be grateful I even let her read them. Either way, she won’t get far. I doubt she’ll find any files—or anyone willing to talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was a shameful incident between Jericho and Nevermore. Both sides agreed to bury every trace.”

“Sounds like an old tradition,” Tyler muttered. “So it really was a Hyde? That’s why they were expelled?”

He pushed his cereal aside. Donovan slowly closed the folder in his hands and set it on the pile. His face settled into that tight, locked expression he always wore whenever Tyler’s mother came up. Tyler figured the conversation would end there. But when Donovan spoke, he chewed his words like they cost him.

“I suppose it was. I’d only been on the force a year and I’d never seen anything like it. It was brutal, and I assumed it had to be worse than a werewolf. I never saw the… Hyde,”—he glanced at Tyler then, hands making a vague gesture as though trying to encompass him—“they didn’t call it that at the time. We only knew it was a boy from Nevermore. But I couldn’t imagine what kind of monster could tear someone apart like that.”

“Funny. You got real familiar with those kinds of monsters.” Tyler’s voice came out sharper than he meant. After the gym attack, that word—Hyde—had become practically taboo to him. “If you hated them so much, I don’t get how you ever married Mom.”

“I never said I hated them. But I’m not going to ignore the danger they are—you are,” he added, digging the knife deeper. “I know very well what you’re capable of. What I don’t know is what people will do when they’re afraid.”

“Like blame them for every crime in town?”

“Ty—”

“What? You’re always looking for scapegoats at Nevermore.”

“If one person’s holding a weapon and the other isn’t, my first suspect is the one with the weapon.”

“Thanks for clarifying I’ll always be number one on your suspect list. Everyone at school seems to agree with you.”

Tyler shoved back his chair and headed for the kitchen, his father following.

“The Hyde was just a kid—barely thirteen.” Donovan’s voice followed him as Tyler rinsed his bowl. “The school tried to protect him.”

“Of course they did,” Tyler muttered under his breath.

“…And nobody liked that. The boy was hiding in one of the towers when townspeople stormed Nevermore with whatever weapons they had. The principal tried to stop them, but they were furious. Garrett Gates had died just months earlier, and the one we thought was guilty was still walking free in Jericho. They weren’t going to let another injustice stand.”

Tyler turned, listening now. He knew firsthand Jericho’s hatred for outcasts, especially from the older families. If all this had happened, then plenty of people must remember—and maybe even been part of it. His dad had his prejudices, sure, but he wasn’t nearly as extreme as some of the town’s old blood.

If people had no problem spreading horror stories about Nevermore students, then why had he never heard this one?

A chill ran down his spine.

The answer had to be bad enough to silence even the deepest prejudice.

“If he was a Hyde,” Tyler said, trying to picture it, “then he must’ve massacred them.”

Donovan’s lips tightened. He shook his head.

Tyler crossed his arms, and it wasn’t hard to picture himself in that terrified boy’s place, cornered in some ancient stone tower. Donovan’s gaze drifted past him, eyes far away, as if replaying that night in vivid detail.

“He had no master, and he’d only transformed once—your mother explained that to me. He was just thirteen. And still, an angry mob of adults impaled him and dragged him back to Jericho like a war trophy. People were out of their minds. Ansel Gates stirred them up, but in the end… they realized what they’d done.”

Tyler felt the blood drain from his body.

If anyone had seen him during his first transformation—covered in blood, a corpse at his feet—he might’ve ended the same way.

“Do you understand now? Do you see why I’ve never told anyone what you or your mother are? Noble liked to pretend Jericho and that Academy patched things up with shallow stunts like Outreach Day. For him, it was just good PR, never personal.” Donovan took a step closer. “I know what a Hyde can do. But I don’t know how people will react.”

“Well,” Tyler whispered, shaken by his father’s sudden intensity—his protectiveness. It wasn’t something he was used to.

He’d never thought of it that way before. The lies, the neglect, the years of being left unguarded—it was still impossible to forgive. It didn’t excuse the loneliness. But if he’d ever felt truly protected, maybe Laurel wouldn’t have gotten so far.

“And now we know people haven’t changed.”

Donovan crossed the kitchen and set his hands on his son’s shoulders. For a moment, Tyler felt transported back ten years—remembering his father kneeling in front of him, eyes cold as ice, promising they’d be fine.

All lies.

“You’re a smart kid, Ty. You understand there could be more Laurels out there.”

Tyler glanced back toward the dining room, at the file on his teacher.

“Is that why you dig into everyone who comes into my life?”

His brows knitted.

“If you don’t trust him, then why did you invite him into our house?”

Donovan let his arms drop, stepping back.

“I needed to confirm something without raising suspicion.”

The sheriff walked out of the kitchen. Tyler followed quickly.

“Wait—” he said, not wanting to believe it. “That’s what this sudden fatherly concern was about? It was all just an interrogation?”

“I’m protecting you,” Donovan growled.

“No! You used me as bait.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?”

“Yes,” he cut him off. “Your mother and I did everything we could to keep your secret, and you insist on dragging it into the light.”

“Right. It’s always my fault, isn’t it?”

“If you’d just listened—stopped asking questions—” Donovan spun around, his fists tight, face pale.

“What? That wouldn’t have stopped Laurel from torturing me!”

“It wouldn’t have been so easy for her to get close to you.”

“You left me vulnerable.” Tyler’s voice rose above his father’s, his anger boiling over. He stepped closer, and Donovan finally saw—this wasn’t the angry teenager anymore. “You might as well hang a sign outside the house: ‘Hyde  master wanted.’”

When Donovan spoke, he didn’t yell. He didn’t threaten. He didn’t even sound angry. What filled the air instead was disappointment so raw it stole Tyler’s breath.

“Your friends already did that. That girl’s been posting everywhere about what you are.”

Tyler clenched his jaw until it ached. And the worst part? His father was right.

Fury rising, he grabbed his backpack. Before storming out, he shot Donovan the most venomous look he had.

“Xavier, wait.”

Wednesday hurried after him as he stormed out of fencing class.

“You still have that book on seers,” she said once she caught up, falling into step beside him. They walked toward their next class, just far enough from the other students to avoid curious ears.

Xavier gave her a long look, up and down. Inside, his weakness for her wrestled against the bitter feelings that grew with every anonymous photo he received. He was starting to think it might even be Wednesday herself—or Galpin. Who else could be enjoying his suffering this much?

“Well, you finally have time,” he answered with a hint of scorn. “Or did you get bored of playing nurse to your boyfriend?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“And I don’t owe you the book.”

Wednesday stopped dead in the hallway, forcing Xavier to halt as well. Her voice turned sharp.

“You were the one who insisted on helping me in the first place.”

“I don’t see you doing much investigating. Clearly you don’t care, so I don’t see why I should share my progress.”

He started walking again, but Wednesday stepped in front of him.

“You make it sound like this is some pointless homework assignment.”

“The only one not taking it seriously is you, Wednesday. All because you’re too busy running around with Galpin.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“The only one making herself ridiculous is you.” His voice rose, sharper than he intended. A few heads turned. Xavier dragged a hand down his face, trying to reel himself back in. “The Wednesday I knew last semester—”

“Things have changed.” Her fists tightened at her sides.

“That’s obvious.”

He tried to brush past her again, but she grabbed his arm with unexpected force.

“I’ll find the information one way or another. But if you know what’s good for you—”

“You’ll tell me, or I’ll be tortured in some unimaginable way?” he finished for her, his voice dripping with mockery. “You know what I think, Wednesday? I think you’re a fraud.”

Her eyebrow arched, but Xavier yanked himself free and walked away as fast as he could without breaking into a run. The moment he rounded a corner, he pressed his back against the wall. His hands were shaking.

What had he just done?

Wednesday was going to kill him.

Xavier’s words only fueled her determination. She could already picture the look on his face when she solved the murders and shredded whatever pitiful theories he had. That humiliation would be its own reward.

That afternoon, while plotting how to pry the book from him, Wednesday organized the information she already had before sitting down for her daily writing hour.

The clacking of her typewriter filled the room, underscored by the faint strains of a funeral march from her record player.

On the page, her heroine Viper had captured a spy who dared to sabotage her investigation. Every scream as she tore out the traitor’s fingernails was the sweetest soundtrack Wednesday could imagine. She wondered if Xavier would cry like that—and how many nails it would take before he broke.

Probably not even one.

The window creaked open. Wednesday didn’t look up until she’d finished the page she was on and fed a fresh sheet into the machine. She didn’t need to look behind; the familiar weight that settled in her stomach belonged to one person only.

Tyler.

He knew better than to interrupt. Instead, he sprawled on her bed, shoving in his earbuds. The tension radiating off him was so heavy she actually paused.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice carried no trace of curiosity or concern.

Tyler grunted something that sounded like “Dad”. Wednesday rolled her eyes and turned back to her typewriter.

A few minutes later the door burst open, Enid’s giggles and Ajax’s laugh instantly shattering the bleak atmosphere. Wednesday shot them a withering glare.

“Sorry,” Ajax muttered before Enid dragged him back toward their side of the room.

When Wednesday finally tucked away the day’s finished pages, she sat on the edge of the bed. Tyler slid over to sit beside her. Across the room, Enid and Ajax’s cuddling was impossible to ignore.

can you control yourselves?” Wednesday snapped.

Enid, resting her chin on Ajax’s chest, pouted. “Not our fault you two are in a mood.”

“We’re not,” Tyler said quickly, though his voice betrayed him.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Ajax teased, throwing an arm around Enid. “With those faces, anyone would think you were planning a murder.”

“If that were the case, we’d be thrilled,” Wednesday deadpanned. “I still have a few names on my kill list.”

Tyler forced a weak half-smile, more grimace than grin.

“So what’s going on?” Enid pressed. “Is it those normies from the high school again? You went back today, didn’t you?”

Wednesday’s gaze slid to Tyler. If the pilgrim wannabes had dared touch him, she wouldn’t wait for elaborate plans this time.

“It’s not them,” he said. “I found out something.”

Tyler told them about the fight with his dad—the fake celebration, the manipulation, all of it just to sniff out possible Hyde kidnappers.

Enid looked horrified. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry, Tyler. But you know we were there because we really care that you’re better.”

“Thanks,” he said with the faintest smile.

Enid looked to Wednesday, waiting for some comforting words. After a beat, Ajax and Tyler’s eyes joined hers.

Wednesday finally spoke. “It’s… unsettling that your father would do that. I may have underestimated him.”

“Thanks for the support. You’re a wonderful girlfriend,” Tyler muttered, flopping back on the mattress. Ajax chuckled.

“So,” Ajax said, “the sheriff thinks your teacher’s behind the killings?”

“At least one of them. My old history teacher, yeah. But I can’t figure out the motive. If it’s about me, why kill those people?”

“Maybe he realized you’d already tried the fake-friendship card,” Wednesday said smoothly, savoring the flash of hurt in Tyler’s eyes. “Obviously you aren’t dumb enough to fall in your same trick.”

Tyler blinked, stunned. “Did I do something to you lately?”

Wednesday ignored him, standing. “Your teacher isn’t the killer. I’ve had visions. It’s the same man from New Haven.”

“But we don’t know anything else about him,” Enid said. “We could pass him on the street and never know. No one’s seen his face.”

“I have,” Wednesday corrected. “And he looks nothing like your professor.”

“But they could still be working together, right?” Ajax added. “There’s gotta be a reason the sheriff doesn’t trust him.”

“Possibly.”

Wednesday crossed her arms, eyeing Tyler from head to toe.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” he said, shifting uneasily, “but I’m pretty sure I won’t like it.”

“You should finish what your father started.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Get closer to Mr. Barnes,” she said, her tone more command than suggestion.

“What?”

“You’re insane,” Enid and Tyler blurted in unison. “What if they are working together?”

“Then Tyler distracts him. Makes him believe he trusts him. It’s nothing you don’t already have experience with,” she added, her eyes locking on Tyler.

“Wow. Must be insult-Tyler day,” he muttered, but she ignored him. Again. 

“That’d make him the next body we find,” Ajax said, staring at them both in disbelief.

Wednesday’s raised her eyebrows in utter astonishment, worrying Ajax.

“You’re right.”

“He is?” Enid squeaked, almost as shocked as Wednesday.

She swept to her closet and pulled out the evidence board she’d been working on. The others crowded around.

“He leaves the bodies near us.” She slapped a sticky note onto the board. “And now we’ve uncovered his pattern.” Her eyes gleamed. “His next victim won’t be a Hyde.”

“Ugh, Ted Bundy vibes again,” Enid shuddered.

“Control yourself. You’re embarrassing our pack,” Wednesday said.

Enid ducked behind Ajax, only for him to step forward, fascinated by the board.

“Wow. Xavier’s gonna lose it if he sees this.”

“What do you mean? He’s not involved, is he?” Tyler asked sharply, his eyes boring into Wednesday’s until she glanced away.

“He’s not,” she said.

“Not with you,” Ajax clarified. “But he wants the Nightshades to handle it.”

Wednesday blinked once, quickly. That morning’s conversation with Xavier took on new meaning. Beating him wouldn’t just remind him of his pathetic place in the world—it would expose the Nightshades as frauds.

She stepped close to Ajax, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Not. One. Word. To the Nightshades,” she ordered. He stumbled back, looking desperately to Enid for rescue, but Wednesday grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. “From now on, you’re on our team. You’ll report any progress they make directly to me.”

“Our team? Team for what?” Enid asked, her voice trembling.

“To catch the killer, of course.”

Chapter Text

Wednesday and Tyler walked toward the school’s main gates. Curfew was still an hour away, and students were wringing every last drop of freedom out of the warm evening, wandering through the gardens.

Once they stepped beyond Nevermore’s gates, Tyler hopped onto the hood of his car.

“There’s something I didn’t mention.” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, and Wednesday mirrored him. “I think I know what happened to the Hyde child.”

Saying it out loud made him just as uneasy as hearing it. Wednesday’s face darkened with every word.

“They banished the Hydes as a peace offering to Jericho? How could the Nightshades allow that?” She began pacing in front of him like a prosecutor on trial.

“Well, someone had to pay.”

“Someone who wasn’t an Addams or a Gates, apparently.”

Tyler forced an awkward smile and caught her hands, pulling her to a stop.

“I don’t blame you,” he whispered. “Not you, not your family. Not anymore.”

“It wasn’t my family’s fault,” Wednesday corrected flatly. “But there has to be someone to blame. Someone woke the Hyde.”

“Not necessarily. It could’ve been a traumatic event.”

“After Ansel Gates’ failed attack? Doubtful. He knew exactly who was who in this school.”

“You think it was his first attempt to control a Hyde?”

“That’s my theory. And it’s no coincidence Laurel knew how to handle you without Nathaniel Faulkner’s diary. Hyde lore is almost nonexistent. We need to go back to that house.”

“Wednesday…” Tyler’s face lost its color. “That place was already stripped clean by the cops.”

“Even the secret rooms?” His silence was all the answer she needed.

“I don’t think you’ll find anything.”

“Your reluctance is suspicious. If you’re hiding something—”

“I just don’t want to go!” he snapped, exasperated. “That place isn’t exactly a happy memory for me.”

“Fine. I’ll do it alone. And when you’re done wallowing in sentimentality, you can join me.”

She spun on her heel, ignoring his sharp exhale behind her. Wednesday didn’t glance back when the door slammed shut, or when the car disappeared down the road.

When Wednesday pulled Enid into her new crime-investigation group, Enid had expected more gore, more horror, and maybe ten years’ worth of nightmares. Instead, her role turned out to be surprisingly fun.

Diverting the Nightshades’ attention with trivial tasks and keeping them away from any fresh corpses was practically her specialty.

Updating her blog filled her with a delicious sense of revenge. Each word felt like a poisoned dart aimed at the group that had kept her out for so long.

Okay, sure, Divina and Yoko were her friends. But it still stung to realize they’d hidden an entire secret society from her. All those parties she’d missed, all the gossip that must have started in those rooms. The worst part? They hadn’t even considered inviting her.

“Babe, how’s it supposed to stay a secret society if we let in the queen of gossip?” Ajax had said, trying to calm her down. He’d only fanned the flames.

“I can keep secrets, too.”

Now her boyfriend was eyeing her like she’d grown fangs as her fingers flew across the keyboard, a wild grin spreading across her face.

“What do you think?”

Ajax leaned over her shoulder. One of his snakes brushed her hair, making her shiver.

“A… vote?”

“Of course. The next queen will be chosen by each of us.”

“Sweetheart, queens aren’t elected. They’re inherited—or they take the crown by force.”

“Maybe it’s time for a democracy.”

“I don’t think they’ll like that.”

“That’s the point, babe.”

Ajax gave her a look that might have been deadly if not for the smile tugging at his lips.

“And you’re going to pit Divina against Yoko?”

“You know what they say.” Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Divide and conquer.”

“Wow. Didn’t know my girlfriend was so lethal.”

Ajax wrapped her in a hug and planted a dramatic kiss on her cheek.

“I only use my claws when necessary.”

Enid added the finishing touches, updated her blog, and cast the first vote for her best friend. She knew Wednesday would hate it, but technically she hadn’t forbidden it.

The candidates satisfied her—some suggested in comments, others so infamous around campus that their nomination was inevitable. Each photo was paired with a little description above the vote button.

“Where did you get that one?” Ajax asked, pointing at a photo of Wednesday perched in a tree, Tyler lying in her lap. The caption read: The Dark Queen: If she tamed a Hyde, ruling the school should be easy.

“Oh, one of my followers sent it.”

“Don’t you think she’ll be mad?”

“She owes me,” Enid smirked. “Done!”

Triumphant, she hopped onto the bed beside Ajax.

“I don’t like keeping things from Xavier. He’s my best friend.”

“Babe.” Enid laced her fingers with his. “It’s for his own good. He’d only get hurt if he got involved.”

“I know, but you know how competitive he is. I don’t know what he’s trying to prove.”

“I think we both know exactly what he’s trying to prove.”

Ajax sighed and flopped backward, dragging Enid with him.

“I guarantee they’ll ask me to distract you tonight.”

“Oh? And how do you plan to do that, Nightshade?”

Ajax grinned wickedly, rolling over her and pinning her wrists to the mattress.

“I can think of a couple ways to keep you very busy.”

He kissed her, and Enid wrapped her legs tight around him until not even a breath could slip between their bodies. Ajax pressed into her, holding her wrists with one hand while the other slid under her blouse.

“Is this distraction enough?” he asked, grinning wickedly.

Enid held her breath, her eyes sparkling with mischief as his fingers moved slowly across her stomach. She shook her head, teasing. Ajax pushed her bra aside, playing with her nipples while keeping his gaze locked on hers.

“Not yet?”

“I know you can do better.”

He kissed her again, let go of her wrists, and grabbed her waist instead. Enid clung to him—arms around his shoulders, legs trapping him close. Then Ajax’s phone buzzed. They ignored it. A minute later, it buzzed again, louder this time.

With a groan, Ajax pulled away.

Emergency meeting, Xavier’s text read.

When history class ended, Tyler lingered near Mr. Barnes’s desk. He’d spent most of the night wrestling with Wednesday’s plan. He wasn’t convinced it would work—but either way, cozying up to Barnes might help cover his tracks once his showdown with Collin began.

“Sir?” His voice came out almost timid. Tyler shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched.

Barnes turned, surprised, then went back to erasing the board.

“Tyler. Trouble with the homework?”

“No, none. I just…” Tyler swallowed, dragging the pause long enough to make Barnes look at him again. When the teacher finally faced him, Tyler dropped his gaze, feigning nervousness. “I just…”

Barnes set down the eraser and walked closer. He placed a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler looked up, his expression painted with shame.

“Everything okay?”

Tyler let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he finally blurted, as if the words scraped their way out. “I’ve been a total jerk to you and, well…”

Surprise flickered across Barnes’s face, then melted into something warmer. He gave Tyler’s shoulder a couple of gentle pats.

“At your age, we’re all a little bit jerks.”

“Yeah, but—” Tyler searched for the right words, watching carefully for what his teacher wanted to hear. If Barnes had known him better, maybe he’d have noticed the sly glint in his eyes, or how his carefully measured pauses were more dramatic flair than hesitation. “—you’re the only one who’s actually been decent to me. And you don’t even know me.”

Elijah’s smile faltered. He exhaled softly, his features sharpening into something far harder.

“Maybe we’re more alike than you realize.”

“What, you turn into a bloodthirsty monster too?”

Barnes chuckled under his breath. When he looked back up, his eyes scanned every inch of Tyler’s face in a way that was hard to read.

“Not all monsters look like monsters. I… I know what it’s like to kill someone.”

Tyler didn’t have to fake his shock. His stomach twisted. This was a terrible idea.

“W-what?”

“I was in the army,” Barnes explained. “They ordered me to kill. And I did. I know what it feels like—to not have a choice.”

“Oh.”

This time Tyler’s lowered eyes weren’t part of an act. He was genuinely ashamed for doubting him.

“Never thought it’d be the same thing.”

“Yeah. War looks a lot more heroic in books than in real life. But for a soldier? I don’t think it’s so different from what happened to you.”

The silence between them was heavy, uncomfortable. Tyler stepped back, ready to leave—until Barnes caught his arm, forcing eye contact.

“If I can give you one piece of advice: channel it into something. Whatever works for you.”

“Like what?”

Barnes shrugged, letting him go.

“Different things work for different people. For me, training helps.”

Tyler nodded, started for the door—then paused, brows knitting as though his own words confused him.

“Sir? Could you… help me with that?”

Barnes’s smile was the picture of quiet triumph.

“Tomorrow. Five a.m.”

That hadn’t gone half bad. Hardly difficult, either. Tyler smirked, imagining his dad’s aneurysm if he found out. But Barnes wasn’t the only item on today’s list.

He moved quickly through the crowded halls until he spotted his target. A crooked grin spread across his face as he watched the other students instinctively step out of his way. Maybe their survival instincts weren’t so terrible after all—they’d realized the friendly Tyler was long gone.

“Jonah,” he greeted, slinging an arm around his former friend’s shoulders, mimicking Jonah’s old habit. The boy’s expression—half terror, half disgust—only spurred him on.

“What do you want?”

“You sound pretty hostile, considering all the fun I’ve given you.”

“And you sound pretty stupid for coming back here.”

“If I were you, I’d watch my words.” Tyler steered him down the hall, arm clamped tight around him. “Remember, I’ve known you my whole life. I know what you do, where you go, when you’re alone… I just wondered if you’d have the same guts without your little crowd backing you up. What do you think?”

Jonah froze. Tyler could practically taste the fear rolling off him. Inside, the Hyde stirred awake, savoring the scent of panic.

Tyler patted Jonah’s back, his smile stretching wider.

“Guess you’re not so mouthy anymore.”

He left Jonah rooted to the spot, paralyzed by a handful of words. Tyler knew he was easy prey—he’d pass the warning along to the rest soon enough.

That’s what Tyler wanted: not jokes, not humiliation, not even blood. He wanted them rattled, trembling. He wanted their spirits broken, their reputations shredded. He wanted them exiled in Jericho, forced to live with the terror that somewhere, in the shadows of the woods, he was watching. Waiting.

The moon was nothing more than a thin silver line that night. The Gates mansion looked the same as always, its windows dark, trees around it bare and lifeless. The lock on the gate was broken, and Wednesday noticed the fresh footprints pressed into the dirt. She walked in no hurry, inspecting every shifting shadow looming over her.

Inside, Tyler’s words proved true. The place was completely empty. A few papers lay scattered on the floor, but everything else had vanished—paintings, lamps, furniture. Knowing this couldn’t be the work of the police, Wednesday drew one of her knives with her free hand.

She pressed the button that opened the secret altar, and to her satisfaction, everything was still there: the pilgrim’s portrait, the cold dusty candles, and a few faded photographs of the dead Gates family.

Carefully, Wednesday inspected every inch of the altar. The thick layer of dust made it easy to spot if anything had been moved recently. Only when she was sure nothing had been touched did she slip on gloves and begin tapping her knuckles along the walls, searching for a false panel or hidden drawer. Behind Crackstone’s portrait, nothing. But at the base of the altar, her fingers caught a faint groove. She pulled hard, and the drawer opened with a pitiful groan.

The petals of a nightshade gleamed faintly under her flashlight. She let out the barest sigh, pleased.

Of course the Gates would know about the secret society. After all, they were sworn enemies.

The moment she lifted the book, a surge of energy shot through her body. She froze, then collapsed heavily to the floor.

When she opened her eyes, she was in the same room—but daylight now streamed through the mansion’s windows, warm and golden. The Gates family portrait hung proudly above a vase of white flowers placed in memory of their lost son.

Ansel Gates stood there, tall, gaunt, almost corpse-like. Fury twisted his features as he glared at the boy in front of him, who held out the Nightshade’s journal.

The boy couldn’t have been more than seventeen. Tall, dark hair falling carelessly across storm-gray eyes, with shadows beneath them that deepened his icy stare.

“Why should I believe you, kid?” Ansel crossed his arms. “You’re one of them. A liar. A freak…”

“Because we want the same thing,” the boy cut in, his deep voice hard with anger. “Revenge. You for your son. Me for my brother. If we bring down the Nightshades, Nevermore will fall soon after.”

Ansel dropped his arms, stepped closer.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Good. I don’t trust you either.”

He snatched the book, and as he flipped through its pages, his expression shifted. The boy’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles—gone as quickly as it appeared. He turned, storm-gray eyes locking directly on Wednesday. She froze, blood running cold.

“Is there someone else here?”

“Mmm? Probably my daughter.”

The boy stepped forward, hand outstretched. His fingers almost brushed Wednesday’s face, and she staggered back, feeling the heat of his skin and the faint trace of his scent.

The vision shattered. Wednesday gasped for air, her knife already at the throat of the shadow leaning over her.

“It’s me,” Tyler said quickly, raising his hands.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. You do realize this place is crawling with drunks and junkies, right?”

Wednesday sheathed her blade and sat up. Tyler still looked annoyed.

“I can defend myself.”

“Oh, yeah. I noticed,” he said, sarcasm lacing his tone.

“You said you didn’t want to come. Why change your mind?”

Tyler sighed, pushing to his feet. “I still don’t want to be here. But you were taking too long.”

“I hope you don’t think your attempt at a knight-in-shining-armor act means I owe you.”

“Sure, Wednesday. That was my whole evil plan,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I can’t just want to make sure you’re okay?”

“Don’t insult me like that.”

Wednesday dusted herself off and clutched the Nightshade journal to her chest, leading the way out.

“Wait,” Tyler said. “There’s something I remembered. I want to show you. Could be useful.”

He held out his hand and guided her upstairs. They moved quietly until they reached Laurel’s old room.

Unlike the rest of the stripped mansion, this space still held traces of life: the bed unmade, wallpaper half-ripped, walls painted in blotches. Nothing else remained.

“How convenient you only remembered this now.”

“Well, forgive me for not spending my free time thinking about her. Give me some light.”

Tyler slid beneath the bed, pried up a few loose boards, and pulled out a stack of files stamped with Nevermore’s insignia. Wednesday flipped through them until she found her parents’ records.

The creak of the front door froze them. Tyler peered into the hallway. Two men’s voices slurred up the staircase. Drunk. Heavy steps grew closer, and Tyler eased the bedroom door shut.

Not a threat, but witnesses were unnecessary.

“Look,” one of the men said, right outside.

“He doesn’t learn easy,” the other replied, voice low and rough.

The door crashed open. Tyler leapt back. Wednesday didn’t even flinch—she slid the files into her bag and palmed her knife.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?” one demanded. His sweatshirt was ragged, his beard long and filthy.

“None of your concern.”

“Nothing,” Tyler cut in, shooting her a sharp look.

“I know you,” the second man said, stepping forward. His knit cap was pulled low, gloves frayed at the seams. “You’re the sheriff’s kid, aren’t you?”

“Problem with that?”

“Yeah. Got a few debts to settle with your daddy.”

He swung at Tyler and nearly tripped over his own feet. Tyler barely needed to move, shoving him straight into his partner.

“Then take it up with him.”

The drunks tumbled into each other, bottles clattering to the floor. One shattered, reeking of cheap liquor.

“Look what you did, punk!” the man roared, hurling the jagged remains at them. It smashed against the wall, shards flying.

A sting cut across Wednesday’s cheek. She touched her face, her fingers coming away red. Blood. Her blood. From him.

Insulting.

She lifted her gaze. Tyler had shielded his face, but when he saw the streak of crimson across her pale skin, something snapped. His jaw tightened, fury blazing in his green eyes. His right arm swelled grotesquely, fingers twisting into claws.

In a blink, he had the man by the throat, lifting him high. A thin line of blood welled where Tyler’s claws pressed in. A little more pressure, and he’d shred his neck.

The man kicked and gasped, eyes wide with animal panic, darting between Tyler’s monstrous arm and his savage face.

And in that raw terror, Wednesday understood.

The beauty of fear. The way it stripped a man bare. Control over life and death—art in its purest form. Delicious.

One second more, and Tyler’s claws would be soaked in hot blood.

“Stop,” she said, her voice barely raised.

“Why?” His voice was deep, dangerous.

“Because killing him would be no challenge at all.”

She crossed the room, ignoring the second man as he scrambled backward in pathetic whimpers. Behind her, a body thudded to the floor. Tyler’s footsteps followed.

“Since when?” Wednesday asked once they reached the car. Tyler pulled off his ruined shirt, replacing it with one from the trunk.

His eyes softened in a blink, and the transformation fascinated her all over again.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe after the attack. Until now it was just… weird dreams.”

“Dreams about any of the deaths?” she asked sharply.

“No. More like… dreams about Laurel.” He shifted uncomfortably. “The tortures. I didn’t even remember them clearly.”

“Lucky you,” Wednesday said flatly, climbing into the car.

“Wait—you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be angry that your mind processes trauma? After brainwashing, it’s normal for the subject to block memories. It creates a bond with the abuser while ensuring obedience. After deprogramming, the memories resurface slowly.” She turned to face him, tone clinical.

“Oh.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to come? She hurt you here?”

Tyler nodded, eyes fixed on the mansion. “Only after I changed. To remind me I had to obey.”

“She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

The words tasted strange in Wednesday’s mouth. Comforting wasn’t something she liked, but the sensation vanished when Tyler caught her hands.

“And is it normal,” he asked softly, almost shy, “that you take her place in those dreams?”

The confession hit her like a train. Her heartbeat stumbled. Heat flooded her face.

“Oh.” She ducked her head, staring at their intertwined hands. Her cheeks burned. “That… can be fixed.”

Tyler’s low laugh rumbled in his chest, and her eyes snapped up to glare at him.

“I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing,” he murmured.

She frowned, not understanding why else would Tyler dream of her in that kind of pleasure. Then he leaned closer, voice dropping to a husky whisper.

“But if it’s something you’d like,” he said, “we could try.”

Wednesday’s breath hitched. Her grip tightened around his hands. She couldn’t summon words that wouldn’t sound like begging. She nodded instead, sharply.

A dangerous light flared in his eyes before his lips crashed against hers.

Tyler’s kisses always had range, but this one—hungry, consuming—might have been her favorite. He stole her breath, overpowered her completely, left her no choice but to cling to him as though drowning in an ocean of want.

His teeth caught her lip, and a broken moan escaped her throat. He smiled against her mouth, and she tried to seize control—but he didn’t yield. Half his body pressed over the console, trapping her against the door. His hands moved her like she wasn’t even hers anymore, and she liked it in ways she didn’t dare explain.

His grip tightened on her chest, pain sparking through her and forcing her eyes wide. She glanced down at his hand, buried in her curves, and wondered what it would feel like under her clothes.

She didn’t wait long. Wednesday dragged his free hand beneath her blouse, pressing him firmly against her skin. Heat surged through her as his rough touch grew bolder, her head falling back against the window. Tyler took the opening, his mouth devouring her throat, nipping at her collarbone.

Her breath came in harsh gasps, his hands lifting her shirt, cold night air mixing with his fevered touch. Then one hand left her body, and before she could protest, his mouth replaced it, lips closing around her.

A cry slipped from her lips. His mouth, his teeth, his tongue—the sensations were sharper, deeper, better than anything his hands had given her.

She tangled her fingers in his curls, dragging him closer, as if she’d rather smother him against her chest than let him stop.

The car jolted suddenly. Tyler tore away, startled.

Wednesday yanked her shirt down, glaring out the window. One of the drunks had stumbled to his feet outside. When his eyes landed on them, his face drained of color. He bolted back into the house.

“Knew I should’ve killed him,” Tyler growled.

“I won’t stop you next time,” Wednesday promised, taking his hand in hers.

Chapter Text

Lou-Anne had started a new tradition in Jericho for Valentine’s Eve. Instead of confessing her feelings to Noble Walker outright, she threw a party in the woods and invited him—along with everyone else from Jericho High. The celebration not only sparked her own romance with Noble, but it also ignited a wave of new couples among the normie teens. Over time, the party became an annual event—one meant for both couples and singles alike.

Legend said that if, at midnight, you confessed your feelings to your crush by the bonfire at the Heart Fair, and that person accepted, your love story was guaranteed.

Sophie sat with a cup of soda in hand, the bass from a nearby speaker pounding against her right ear. Around her, the same classmates who ignored her during the day continued to ignore her that night.

She didn’t even know why she’d bothered to come. Her only friend was Tyler—and, as he had warned her, that friendship had branded her as a social outcast. Not that she expected him to show up anyway. He was probably planning some disgustingly romantic date with his infamous girlfriend, Wednesday Addams.

Sophie set down her drink and left. She crossed the bridge and walked through a dirt clearing where several cars were parked. Voices rose behind her. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Colin and Lucas. Her heart skipped. She quickened her pace, slipping into the shadows of the trees. Being friends with Tyler—and being the one who warned everyone about the attack—had made her a prime target for the guys’ harassment. Judging by their unsteady movements and the beer bottles in their hands, hiding seemed like the smart move.

She watched Colin climb into his car while Lucas stumbled back toward the woods. Taking her chance, Sophie darted from her hiding place and hurried toward town.

What she never knew was that Colin never started his car that night—and Lucas never made it back to the party.

“Bestie, I know it’s not your vibe, but you have to go.”

Enid had spent the entire day gushing about Jericho’s legendary Heart Festival—a Valentine’s Day celebration where couples wandered through a fair packed with games, restaurants, and romantic music blasting from the speakers. To Wednesday, it sounded like a genuine, nauseating nightmare—one she had absolutely no interest in attending.

“I haven’t lost my mind yet, Enid.”

“Do it for Tyler! He grew up here—I’m sure he wants to go.”

“Did he say that?”

“Nope. But… has he told you what he’s planning?”

“He wouldn’t dare—if he knows what’s good for him.”

When they got back to their dorm, Wednesday found a black envelope on her bed. Enid squealed with excitement beside her, while Wednesday immediately felt queasy. Her roommate bounced toward her closet, already digging for something to wear to what she assumed would be a double date. But when Wednesday opened the letter, she found a simple, direct message.

Woods. Five p.m.

Don’t be late.

P.S. Destroy this note.

“Don’t get too excited, Enid. Looks like Tyler’s plans are… different.”

She grabbed her jacket and slipped out before Enid could start complaining. There wasn’t much time to reach their spot in the woods—the one that had quietly become theirs. Wednesday was certain that was where Tyler meant to meet.

She couldn’t deny the faint thrill stirring in her chest. It wasn’t that she wanted to celebrate such a ridiculous holiday as Valentine’s Day, but so far, Tyler’s surprises had never disappointed her.

When she arrived at their spot, it was empty.

Wednesday stopped, frowning. She scanned the area—no sign of him. Had she arrived too early? Too late? She walked toward the tree she usually leaned against, and that’s when she noticed a small folded note tucked into a crack in the bark.

When she unfolded it, a small map fell into her hand.

What was Tyler playing at? she wondered, before orienting herself and following the directions. She walked upstream until she reached the narrowest part of the river, where she could cross easily. Then she ventured deeper into a section of the forest she hadn’t explored before.

If she remembered correctly, this was part of the authorized hunting grounds—and the idea that Tyler’s “surprise” might involve weapons and blood started to raise her expectations.

She reached the lake—and with it, the row of old cabins scattered along the shore. Tyler waved from Cabin Eight, a half-smile on his lips and that warm look in his eyes—the same one he used to have back when he worked at the Weathervane, before she knew he was the monster everyone was hunting.

“What is this?” she demanded, climbing the steps toward him. “This better not be some ridiculous celebration.”

“You wound me,” Tyler said, feigning offense as he pressed a hand to his chest. “I put a lot of effort into this.”

“How horrifying,” Wednesday muttered under her breath, earning a soft laugh from him.

“Wait—close your eyes,” he said.

She glared at him, but Tyler simply stepped behind her and covered her eyes with one hand, guiding her through the creaking doorway.

They took a few steps before she heard the door shut behind them. The air smelled of dust and disuse, the cold kind that only existed in abandoned places. When Tyler uncovered her eyes, she found herself staring at a small table—her torture kit laid open on top of it.

She blinked, surprised. Not because he had somehow sneaked into her room and stolen the case—though that was impressive enough—but because he’d done it all without her noticing. Clearly, Tyler hadn’t missed a single detail.

He dragged a chair to the middle of the room, then moved toward the closet. The muffled sound of a struggle broke the silence, and Wednesday watched, almost in awe, as Tyler hauled Colin inside—bound and terrified—and forced him into the chair.

She approached slowly, inspecting his work. The knots were complex, though not perfect for the purpose. They would hold, assuming Colin lacked the brainpower to free himself. She noticed the way Tyler had pulled the sweatshirt sleeves over his wrists, protecting the skin from rope burns. Colin’s wide eyes followed her every move, terror carved into his expression like a masterpiece.

When she looked back at Tyler, his smug smile made her decide to hold her tongue. After all, no one had ever kidnapped someone for her before. She could critique his technique later.

“You’ve got an hour,” Tyler said. “No permanent damage. Make sure he can still run. I’ll be outside.”

Wednesday ripped the gag from Colin’s mouth, and his screams for help bounced off the walls like one of her favorite melodies. She turned back to the table, a wide grin forming as she picked her first instrument.

“What are you doing? Get away from me, freak!”

Wednesday lifted a pair of pliers. Tyler had said no permanent damage—and nails grew back, didn’t they?

Colin writhed in the chair, his voice shredding into raw sound. By the time Wednesday finished with the first nail, he was drenched in sweat and barely able to speak. The arrogance and sneer had vanished, replaced with pathetic, stammering pleas.

“I won’t do it again. Please… I get it now.”

But Wednesday wasn’t done yet.

Exactly an hour later, a soft knock echoed on the door. She set her tools aside and opened it to find Tyler’s backpack sitting just outside.

She glanced toward the woods, now swallowed by darkness. The cold wind whipped across her face, raising goosebumps. Grabbing Colin by the ropes, she untied him and dragged him to the doorway.

“Run,” she ordered, shoving him outside.

Colin hesitated. Then, from somewhere in the trees, came the guttural growl of the Hyde. He froze—right before the electric crack of Wednesday’s stun gun lit up his back. Horror flashed across his face. He understood then that there was no other choice.

“They’ll catch you,” he spat, the arrogance crawling back into his tone. “They’ll lock you up forever.”

“Go now,” she warned, raising her weapon again, “or I’ll make sure you can’t talk.”

Colin swallowed hard. When she raised the gun, his nerve broke completely. He bolted into the woods, branches thrashing as the Hyde gave chase.

Wednesday grabbed Tyler’s backpack, followed the instructions to the letter—packed the weapons, coiled the rope, and burned the note—before heading toward his house.

February 14th was usually a quiet day. The chaos tended to start closer to midnight, when drivers, drunk on either champagne or heartbreak, made poor decisions. But that evening, just after nightfall, Colin burst into the Jericho sheriff’s station like a storm.

Sheriff Donovan Galpin looked up from his desk just in time to see the boy crash into his secretary. Colin had more than enough reasons to be on the sheriff’s bad side, but the panic on his face made Donovan rise from his chair and step out to meet him.

“Who attacked you?” Janice asked from behind the desk.

Colin was drenched in sweat, pupils blown wide, hands trembling. Donovan’s eyes flicked to the dirt on his jeans—and the dried blood crusted over one hand.

“The monster,” Colin gasped. “Tyler Galpin!”

Janice’s gaze shot to the sheriff, visibly uncomfortable.

“You’re saying my son attacked you?” Donovan’s voice was calm, but every syllable cut deep. The room fell silent. “He transformed?”

“Yes! Him and his psycho girlfriend—they kidnapped me, tortured me!”

He raised his hand as if swearing it. Donovan felt his blood pounding in his temples. He wanted not to believe it—but he knew, painfully well, that it was something both of them were capable of. Still, he pulled out his phone and checked his son’s location.

“Where did this happen?”

“The cabins—by the lake.”

Donovan frowned. According to the GPS, Tyler was home. Right where he was supposed to be.

“What’s wrong? You’re not gonna do anything—just because the monster’s your son?”

The fury in the sheriff’s eyes made Colin pale. He turned toward Janice, searching for backup.

“And you’re one of the boys who put him in the hospital, aren’t you?”

“I’m telling the truth!”

“We’ll see about that.” Donovan turned to one of his deputies. “Santiago, take his statement. We’re going to check it out.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lieutenant Santiago walked in with the paperwork. Colin’s story was simple: Tyler had kidnapped him after the bonfire, locked him in a cabin, and then Wednesday had tortured him. Afterward, he’d been chased through the woods by the Hyde.

“And what did it look like?” Donovan asked. “Describe the Hyde.”

“Uh—it’s big. And… monstrous,” Colin stammered. The sheriff arched an eyebrow. “You know how it looks.”

“I want you to tell me.”

“I didn’t see it! I was too busy running for my life!”

“Then how do you know the Hyde was chasing you?” Santiago asked.

“I heard it! Growling—ripping up trees!”

“We’ll have to verify your story,” Donovan began.

“I’m coming with you,” Colin interrupted. “I don’t want any special treatment just because he’s your son.”

Donovan exhaled sharply. That was strike three for the boy.

“Fine. But if you’re lying, you’re in serious trouble, kiddo.”

Turner, Santiago, Colin, and the sheriff piled into a patrol car and headed toward the Galpin house. It wasn’t how Donovan wanted to handle it—he’d hoped to keep things quiet—but Colin had made a public scene at the station, and there wasn’t enough real crime that night to justify ignoring it.

Lieutenant Johnson led another team toward the cabins to search for evidence of the Hyde.

If Tyler had done it… Donovan didn’t yet know how he would handle it.

Tyler had barely finished putting on a pair of pants when Wednesday opened the bedroom door wide. The boy's eyes fell on her immediately, devouring her from head to toe, and she didn't seem any less affected.

Tyler moved forward with confident steps, his bare feet making no sound, almost as if he were a panther on the prowl, and Wednesday felt the urge to take a hesitant step back. She had never felt this way before: a helpless prey, and instead of being disgusted by it, her insides decided to twist with painful pleasure.

Without waiting another second, Tyler grabbed her jacket tightly and crashed his mouth onto hers. Wednesday responded with the same desperation. She buried her hands in his soft brown hair, and the way those curls slipped through her fingers was even more delicious than she had imagined. Lost in the frenzy of kisses and touches, Wednesday caught Tyler's lip between her teeth, imitating what she had learned from him and stealing a soft growl, almost a purr, that vibrated through her body and settled with a wave of heat in her belly.

Tyler pushed her against the bed and immediately fell on top of her. His bare torso was a formidable wall that, despite its firmness, molded itself to her body. It imprisoned her and she melted between the erratic caresses of his hands. It was an addictive sensation, and Wednesday felt she couldn't stop touching that skin that seemed red-hot. Meanwhile, Tyler devoured her neck with kisses and bites that stole her breath.

Wednesday couldn't help thinking that if this was ever going to happen, it couldn't be any other way. The culmination of triumph over her enemies, with the blood still dried between her nails and the echo of screams in her head. The euphoria of torture sublimated with the sweet anguish of need and desperation that Tyler's every caress wrung from her.

She didn't know at the time that they had undone her black jacket, but she was barely aware of her condition when Tyler pulled away and was sitting on her hip. His breathing was ragged, his lips red, and the path her nails had followed on his bulging abdomen was visible. His dilated green eyes took in the way she lay beneath him. He closed both hands over each of her breasts, and Wednesday closed her eyes as she felt that sensation again. Tyler's hands massaged her in a way she couldn't; she had tried that morning in front of the bathroom mirror and felt nothing remotely like what she felt now.

The cramps in her belly increased, and as she twisted, her hips rose, brushing against him. Tyler closed his eyes with a grimace of pain and pleasure.

That gave her a shred of the power she'd so easily surrendered, and an almost imperceptible smile spread across Wednesday's lips. But before she could repeat her move, he gripped her hips tightly, holding her immobile on the bed.

She wanted to complain at the neglect of her breasts, but as soon as she saw Tyler lean over her while his other hand went to the buttons of her shirt, she felt her heart race. She was truly aware that this was happening, this was going to happen. No innocent discovery, no games, no empty threats...

He fixed his eyes on hers, and the danger reflected in them made her feel like something liquid was seeping between her legs. With his free hand, Tyler began to unbutton the buttons of her shirt one by one with astonishing slowness. His breath met her face, and Wednesday didn't take her eyes off him, perhaps out of stubbornness or because she was in complete panic. But all she knew was that those green eyes, ironically, were her safe place.

A part of her mind, the one not yet consumed by raging teenage hormones, made her hyperaware of herself. From the way she didn't know where to place her hands, to her parted lips seeking to kiss him, to the white blouse she'd worn that day. Especially that blouse. She looked like an innocent virgin ready to be sacrificed to the beast.

To her beast.

With each button Tyler undid, Wednesday's chest rose higher and higher, almost as if she were hyperventilating. When he finally finished, Tyler's once-green eyes were fixed on her breast, squeezed by her bra. He ran his fingers over the exposed skin and leaned in to kiss them, playing with them like he had in his car.

Wednesday let out a sigh. With his free hand, Tyler slid his hand down her leg until he reached her crotch, and she held him tightly by the shoulders. He began to touch her in a way even she hadn't done before, in a way she thought she would hate, and yet, it was driving her to the precipice of a madness she didn't know she craved.

Wednesday wrapped her legs around Tyler's hips, pushing him toward her, and he began to move. His hand was trapped between their bodies, touching her and himself at the same time. Tyler dropped his head next to Wednesday's, his moans whispered in her ear, and she was grateful he didn't watch as her mask of stoicism cracked and her eyes closed so tightly that her entire world shrank between them.

She began to move too, meeting him halfway. She felt him tremble above her, and the movement shook her belly like an earthquake.

Unable to hold it in any longer, a moan escaped her lips, followed by all the others she'd kept quiet. She hugged Tyler with all her strength, arms and legs, and she couldn't tell if it was him or her who was trembling.

They heard the front door open and the sheriff's voice calling Tyler.

The boy barely moved away from her. He brought a finger to his lips, but he never stopped. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his scent filled Wednesday even more strongly, certain that she, too, smelled of the woods and coffee.

"Tyler, are you here?"

He just sped up, desperate. Wednesday bit her lip to keep from making a sound.

"Tyler!"

Wednesday wanted to speak, but he shook her head.

"He's going to leave," she said in a whisper.

Suddenly, the door flew open and three police officers rushed into the room. Tyler's father was among them, of course.

Donovan's expression was wild, and the officers accompanying him looked completely confused.

"Dad!" he said in a growl that could have been Hyde, and he threw the first pillow he could find at him.

Donovan immediately closed the door, but he didn't back away.

"What are you doing?" Wednesday couldn't see the sheriff's embarrassed face, but she could hear his voice. Embarrassed and furious.

"Are you really asking that?"

Tyler pulled away from her, and as he caught his breath, she looked down and noticed the dark stain the boy had on his pants. His erection was rapidly receding. She sighed in defeat and sat up in bed.

"Get dressed," her father ordered, "and I want you downstairs in five minutes, or she'll never set foot in this house again."

"She has a name!" Tyler shouted, but the whole entourage was already coming down the steps.

While Tyler changed his pants and looked for a shirt, Wednesday straightened her clothes.

"I think my father might want to gouge his eyes out," Tyler said, finishing.

"It will be a pleasure to help you," Wednesday replied, opening the door.

The two boys went downstairs to the living room, which remained deathly silent. Their father was pacing, his lips pursed so tightly they were white. Santiago and Turner watched them with ill-disguised smiles, and Colin remained seated, his bravado returning.

When they entered the living room, Donovan's withering gaze fell on them both.

"You and me, we'll talk later," he promised Tyler. "Now, I want to know why this boy claims he was kidnapped and tortured by you."

"I think that's a great question? I'd like to know why he says that too," Tyler replied.

"Because you did it." Colin stood up, livid, his voice slightly trembling.

"Oh, yeah?" Wednesday took a step forward, and Colin took a step back. "So how did we do it?"

"Yesterday, after the bonfire."

"You can ask anyone from high school. I didn't go to that stupid party. I was with Wednesday at Nevermore."

"You took me to a cabin and she tortured me," she repeated. "Then Tyler turned into the monster he is and attacked me and chased me through the woods until I made it to the station."

"Please," Tyler complained, looking at his dad. "You know if I had attacked him, I wouldn't be here."

"Tyler!"

"It's the truth, Dad. Besides, as you can tell, Wednesday and I had our own celebration."

With a gesture, Tyler indicated the table, and only then did Wednesday notice the already-opened dinners, the cold candles, and the dahlia that adorned the center of the dining room. He didn't let his surprise show on his face, but he focused his eyes more closely on Tyler.

The alibi was as elaborate as the crime.

"As tempting as it would be to teach the guy who left me in the hospital a lesson, I had better plans for today."

"Tyler, I'm warning you one last time."

"I'm telling the truth." Colin gathered his courage and approached. The officers were quick to detain him. "I can take you to the cabin."

"Of course you will, and we'll request the report from Tyler's tracker." The sheriff's eyes were a silent warning to his son. "And you better not lie, or you'll be charged with false reports."

"What?" Colin's voice was barely a whisper.

"You heard him, kid," Officer Turner said. "A report isn't a way to play along with your old jokes."

Lieutenant Santiago's phone rang, and the report from the cabin arrived just in time.

"I'll inform him immediately," the woman said before hanging up.

Colin smiled at them as if those words were a sentence for the couple.

"Sir, they found drugs in the cabin."

Tunner raised his eyebrows, almost amused, and the sheriff fixed his eyes on Colin.

"Come on," he informed his team. "You'll have to take a drug and alcohol test," he said, taking Colin with him. "And Addams, you'd better not be here when I get back."

It wasn't until they heard the patrol cars leaving that Wednesday spoke.

"They'll discover you. The tracker."

"Are you sure?" she replied mockingly. Tyler lifted his pants, revealing his free ankle.

He explained how he'd been showing Sussy the way from his house to the clearing where they used to meet for days. The only thing the report would show was how he'd wandered through the woods to get to his house during the entire time Colin claimed they were with him. And in the cabin, the only thing his father would find would be a stash of some drugs Ajax had provided him, which conveniently happened to be the same ones in Colin's system.

"Although I don't think he'd dig too deep, it would force him to think about how he found us in my room."

The words fell on her like a heavy bucket of cold water, and the satisfaction she'd begun to feel at hearing every detail of the story dissolved completely.

"That was part of your alibi, too."

Tyler's smile faded at the coldness in her tone.

"I was the alibi," she clarified, taking a couple of steps away from him.

"No!" he said quickly. Too quickly to be true.

Wednesday crossed her arms.

"You knew this would avoid their questions." Wednesday pressed her lips together, and Tyler seemed to understand that he was lost. "I never thought it would go this far."

Wednesday turned sharply, taking quick steps toward the exit.

"No, Wednesday. Stay, please. I can fix this."

He took her arm, and in a second she was free.

"Forget it."

"It's my reward," he replied, blocking the door.

"You need five more," she said, though her look said something closer to "fuck you."

"Three, really," he clarified with a stupid smile. Her silence was more than enough for him to realize his latest mistake. "I don't mean it. We'll only do it if you really want it, but believe me, I do..."

"I don't."

The wound she'd just opened should have served to ease some of his anger. Instead, it did the opposite; it only increased the fire inside him. How dare he look at her as if she'd broken his heart after what he'd deliberately done?

She left, angry at Tyler, at her, and at every soul in Jericho.

Chapter Text

The phone rang again. Donovan put his hands to his head in despair before answering.

"Sir," Janice said on the other end of the line, "Mrs. Lou-Ann wants to see you."

He let out a kind of weary roar.

"Fine, let her in," he replied against his will, and with a big sigh, he tried to gather all his patience.

Lou-Ann and he had been friends since the moment Donovan walked into the police station and met Noble. She had always been a woman with a strong yet friendly temperament, but since her husband's death, she had slowly built a shell around herself. Donovan knew that feeling. The walls his wife's death had left behind had been growing thicker for ten years. He didn't want Lou-Ann to end up like him, he didn't want anyone to; but after learning about Tyler's condition, the bond between them vanished.

"Well, Sheriff?" “How’s the investigation going?” Lou-Ann asked, taking a seat across from him. “Will they catch your son this time?”

“Tyler didn’t do anything.”

“That’s what he says.”

“The evidence shows that.” Donovan pulled a sheet of paper from a manila envelope and handed it to her. “It’s Tyler’s movement report. As you can see, his version matches. They were in the woods and walked directly toward the house. At no point was he near the cabins or the party.”

“There could be a mistake,” Lou-Ann said angrily. “Lucas could have died! That beast left him under the campfire to burn alive.”

“Watch your words!”

“Tyler killed my husband and now he wants to kill my son!” she emphasized, slamming her fist on the table.

“Noble’s death was entirely Thornhill’s doing. The boy was already tried and found innocent.”

“Sure, thanks to the Addams’ money, right?” he said sarcastically. "It's ironic that you were the one who wanted Gomez Addams caught for his crimes, and then you ask him for help covering up your son's."

"What's ironic is that your husband remained mayor after accepting bribes from Ansel Gates to cover up his attempted genocide."

Lou-Ann's face twisted with anger. She stood up immediately and leaned toward Donovan.

"I'll have your son locked up."

Donovan wasn't intimidated. He slowly stood up as well, and in a calmer but more dangerous tone, he replied:

"I'll give you some advice, for the sake of our old friendship. Worry about your son, not mine. Underage marijuana use is an offense. And we found a lot of it in your family cabin along with other drugs. If Colin and Lucas's tests match, you'll be in serious trouble."

"My son isn't like that."

"The tests will tell."

Lou-Ann slammed the door as she stormed out. Donovan sighed wearily; if she were anyone else, she'd be in a cell right now.

The lab results arrived that day, and just as he had suspected, the two boys had consumed so many substances that the whole thing was either a hallucination or a plot to frame Tyler. The weight that information lifted from his shoulders was immense, because despite defending his son, a part of him still doubted his innocence.

A few minutes later, the office phone rang again.

"Sir," the voice said, strange and almost apologetic, "they just called about another complaint against Tyler."

Donovan groaned and cursed inwardly.

"So what happened this time?"

"They say Tyler is haunting his dreams and that he hasn't slept for weeks because of it."

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm sorry, sir. What do we do?"

"I don't know, give them the card of a psychiatrist. This isn't our responsibility."

She hung up and lamented that it was still too early to have one of the beers he had hidden away. The day promised to be long and tedious.

If Wednesday was angry with Tyler before, now she was furious.

After what had started as one of the best experiences of her life and ended with yet another betrayal in Tyler Galpin's record, Wednesday's life seemed to be spiraling downward.

All her life she had kept her emotions at bay, managing to control her teenage nature and rise above the hormonal cocktail her body was enduring. However, Tyler had opened a door that seemed impossible to close again. Her subconscious tormented her with the most horrifying nightmares imaginable, reducing her to a version of her parents desperately needing contact and affection.

Every night she woke with a start, a moan struggling to escape her lips, and the sensation of Tyler's body on top of her. Every night she locked herself in the bathroom and tried to imitate the way he had touched her.

For the first time in her life, she wasn't enough.

And the memory of how he had used and deceived her, yet again, only fueled her inner fire.

She had distanced herself from him for days. She had heard her cell phone vibrate inside her desk drawer and also noticed the worried way Enid looked at her. She knew that sooner or later, Enid would decide it was her duty as a roommate and best friend to advise her on the difficult path of relationships. And that wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with Enid or anyone else, so Wednesday had started avoiding her too.

She spent her afternoons in the Buzzer cabin, reading the Nightshade journal she had found in the Gates mansion, and the worst part was that every time she read the word "hyde," she remembered Tyler, and the cycle of desire and anger would repeat itself.

Wednesday slammed the book shut and leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes and trying to focus on the practical things she had discovered.

First of all, Alexandre Dubois had become hyde for the first time after being attacked by normies in the woods surrounding the academy. In that first attack, there were no casualties, as the werewolves in the area managed to calm the boy. Alongside him was another Hyde who had been unlocked, and two more who had not yet. Françoise Sylvanne must be one of them, Wednesday deduced, although their names weren't mentioned in the diary.

Secondly, they mentioned the Hyde tower where these entities were housed once their other half had been awakened. According to the diary, the tower possessed some methods for containing them, although they didn't always work, especially with a Hyde without a master.

Alexandre was an imminent danger, according to the Nightshades. His timid and nervous nature hid within the Hyde whenever he felt threatened, and since the initial attack, the boy transformed every night. That monster was uncontrollable and increasingly aggressive.

The Nightshades had invited Françoise to join the society and help the boy in his transition, although she hadn't yet responded. Meanwhile, Silas Holmes would try to calm him using his psychic abilities. The diary didn't specify what those abilities were, and Wednesday thought that perhaps finding the tower might yield more answers.

The cabin door opened, and Eugene smiled at her.

"I won't give Enid any more honey," she clarified, looking at the jar in his hands.

"It's not for her. I was hoping you'd give it to Tyler." Wednesday didn't reply, waiting silently for the boy to explain his crazy idea. "Moms thinks I shouldn't hold a grudge against him; after all, he was being manipulated."

"You almost died, Eugene. He should reach out to you."

The boy shrugged.

"I know," Eugene sighed deeply, "but I'm supposed to be building bridges to make that happen."

Wednesday stared at the jar of honey for several long seconds before reaching out.

"I'll let him know," she concluded.

Even so, the honey sat by her typewriter for two more days until she found a reason to see him again.

Tyler sat in one of the corners of the cafeteria. Lucas and Collin glared at him from the other end. They had both created a huge scandal by exposing the torture Tyler had carried out and giving the most sordid details to anyone who had the stomach to listen, only to have their stories refuted by the police with evidence of the boys' drug use.

Not only were they kicked off their respective teams, losing the chance at a scholarship, but they had also turned Tyler from the fearsome monster of the hallway into the poor kid being bullied by outcasts and normies.

He couldn't say he liked this narrative, but it served his purposes. For the moment, he had more important matters to attend to than his sorry reputation.

He took out his phone. The messages he had sent to Wednesday hadn't even been opened, and Enid wasn't giving him any good news either. Wednesday had retreated to Neverland, completely out of his reach.

He put his hands to his face in frustration. How could he be so stupid as to ruin everything so easily?

He was angry with himself, and what was worse, this wasn't a completely unfamiliar feeling. He kept wondering if he should just end it all, and the mere thought gave him a horrible feeling in his stomach.

Would Wednesday even bother to formally end their relationship? Or should he just accept it?

He looked at his food with disgust and pushed his tray away.

Maybe it was for the best, he tried to convince himself. After all, he didn't think he loved Wednesday. He liked her a lot, that was true, but love was a very big word, one he wasn't sure about, and he didn't know what word could describe what he felt for her.

Wednesday looked like a cursed porcelain doll, and he'd have to be crazy not to like her. Besides, her whole aura of mystery attracted him with the same force as a black hole attracts matter. She had her crazy quirks that made him smile and a wit that never bored him. And she had that dark side so similar to his own, one she didn't bother to hide, and that fascinated him.

Perhaps that was what he liked most about her, and what made him want to kill her at other times.

Tyler leaned his head back against the cafeteria table, aware that his thoughts weren't helping him at all.

He heard the chair across from him move, and when he looked up, Chrissy was sitting across from him. Again.

"What are you doing here?"

"Relax, I come in peace."

"The last time you sat with me, I ended up tied to a post."

"I had nothing to do with that," she immediately defended herself.

"Lucas is your boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," she clarified, her friendly expression vanishing.

"And that should be enough for me to believe you?" Tyler said, leaning across the table in what he hoped was an intimidating glare.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Chrissy replied, shrugging. "And you don't need to thank me for pulling you out of the social hole you dug yourself into."

Suddenly, Percy sat down next to him. Tyler glanced from one to the other, confused, before things slowly began to fall into place.

"Didn't it occur to you that I'm not interested in being a part of this?"

"What?" "You're going to tell me you don't want revenge?" Crissy replied.

"I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself."

"Without going to prison?" Percy asked, raising his eyebrows. "Look, I'm tired of Lucas and Collin's reign of terror. If I can do something to stop this, I will."

"We read the werewolf girl's blog, and we know everything they're done to discredit you."

Tyler looked from one to the other in astonishment and then searched for Lucas on the other side of the cafeteria. He seemed furious and yet as surprised as he was. He felt like bursting out laughing, like congratulating himself. When he thought about taking away all their credibility, he limited himself to things the police could find; he never imagined that it would end up affecting his classmates' opinions.

"What were you thinking?" he finally said with a small, mischievous smile.

Percy and Crissy smiled, as if they were the ones planning to use him.

It was safe to say that Tyler had found something close to a new group of friends. Sophie had joined them, as bewildered as Tyler; and Beth, Percy's girlfriend, sat next to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And despite his new friends joining as the week went on, he couldn't stop checking his phone, waiting for Wednesday to reply.

"Is everything okay?" Percy asked as they left their last class on Friday.

"Uh, yeah," he said, quickly putting his phone away. It was obvious Percy didn't believe him, but the boy didn't press him either. He said goodbye and started walking toward his car.

"Wait!" Tyler suddenly called out, catching up to him. "You and Beth, how are you so sure you love her?"

Percy blushed immediately and let out a nervous laugh. Tyler knew he didn't even have to answer that question; the look of longing on his face was more than enough of a clear answer.

"Well... I can't imagine my life without her."

"Even if you two are always arguing?"

"I love arguing with Beth," he emphasized, his smile widening and his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Does this have anything to do with your Nevermore girl?"

"Something... like that," he replied, not wanting to elaborate.

Percy ran a hand through his messy hair and looked around as if he thought Beth was standing behind him.

"Wow, I don't think I'm the right person for this kind of advice."

"We just had an argument, and I don't know if it's best if we just leave it at that."

"Over an argument?"

"I was a jerk."

"Explain it to her. If Addams could understand whatever happened last semester, I think she can handle this too."

Tyler let out a nervous chuckle and said goodbye to Percy. The boy didn't need to know that it took a stalker, several dead bodies, a kidnapping, torture sessions, and saving an entire city for Wednesday to forgive him.

He sighed in defeat, and before getting into his car, the phone in his pocket vibrated.

"Usual spot in 30 minutes" -W.

Tyler's heart leaped so high he wouldn't have been surprised if it dropped right in front of him. He swallowed and quickly replied with an "OK."

Before he knew it, Tyler had already walked halfway to Never Again. A thousand and one scenarios played out in his mind, one after another, and he tried to come up with an answer for each one.

Wednesday's message offered no clue as to what she might find. It was as impersonal as all the others, and he knew she wouldn't say anything more until they were face to face.

If she broke up with him, she would take it in stride. She would ignore the horrible way her chest would clench with pain and try to make it work as friends or allies, whatever would work for her. He could do that; he would smile and tell her everything was okay.

He would be okay... right?

Tyler stopped. The knot in his chest tightened, settling in his stomach, heavy as lead.

What if he didn't go? What if he postponed the inevitable breakup? Maybe if he gave Wednesday more time for her anger to subside and for her to reconsider, they could still be saved.

No. If he didn't show up, Wednesday would be even angrier. It wasn't as if he could evade her forever and maintain a relationship based on running faster to avoid being caught. In any case, their relationship was based on who ran towards the other faster and more violently.

He took a hesitant step forward. He had no choice; he was lost, and it was his fault.

His gaze fixed on the ground, he kept walking. He thought about what Percy had told him. Imagining a life without Wednesday wasn't difficult; he'd be far away from troublemakers and would have to hide his status as an outcast. He would probably leave Jericho after graduation and start over somewhere similar, living a monotonous life much like the one he'd had before all that Laurel madness began. Maybe he'd meet someone else—no one like Wednesday, of course—and maybe that person would be terrified to discover the monster inside him.

He could imagine a quiet, solitary life... a life he would detest, but one he could certainly live.

And he didn't want any of that. He truly didn't want to lose her, didn't want them to become strangers, and that thought that had been nagging at him all week—the thought that they should separate—was the worst idea he'd ever had. It was even worse than trusting Laurel.

When he saw her in the distance, in her dark uniform, with her rigid posture and the small backpack on her shoulders, he knew he truly didn't want to lose her. He didn't want to return to the ordinary, didn't want to be part of her past. Tyler knew he'd been deceiving himself, believing it was just attraction, believing it was only part of that dark, macabre chemistry they shared. Tyler didn't just want her darkness; he wanted her light too. The moments when she absentmindedly stroked his hair as he lay down, or the way she smiled when they kissed, or her almost embarrassed look when they crossed a new boundary, when she let go of what she felt.

He let out a longing sigh, and his body came alive again. His heart doubled its beats, and his lungs drew in all the air around them.

"Wednesday," he called, ready to beg for forgiveness. She tore her gaze from the tree she'd been staring at, and he saw the fear in her brown eyes.

Tyler furrowed his brow and turned to see where she was looking.

His eyes widened, and his stomach felt like it was going to jump out of her throat. Before them, a dismembered corpse sat in the spot where they had shared most of the last few months.

"Was it you?"

Wednesday blinked at the question. The faint flicker of fear vanished into disbelief, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted that Tyler considered her capable of such a barbaric and utterly unserious act.

"No."

The stench was terrible and nauseating. The man's abdomen was ripped open, his entrails exposed. Flies swarmed around it. He was mutilated, his left arm completely severed and placed next to his left leg. His right foot dangled from his leg by a thin strand of tendons. And his face, spattered with blood, wore an expression of utter terror.

"Ugh, disgusting!" said Tyler, approaching and covering his nose with his hand.

Wednesday rolled her eyes at the hypocrisy.

"I'll call Dad."

"Why?"

"When they find him, it'll be on the record that I was here. They're not going to frame me for things I didn't do."

Wednesday approached. She smelled a faint scent of formalin emanating from the corpse. She touched the arm lying on the ground with her foot; it was completely stiff. She estimated it couldn't have been more than three days old. A light stain, the result of bacterial action, was beginning to spread across the neck. Above the elbow, where the arm had been severed, there was no blood, which meant the arm had been cut off after death. This was in contrast to the foot, where the red stain covered almost the entire length of the pants.

"Dad, something happened," she heard Tyler say. "Wednesday and I found a body in the woods." "No, Dad, of course it wasn't me!" "I know," he added after a short pause. "That's why I'm letting you know." "Okay, we'll wait for you. Have you found anything?" Tyler asked, putting his phone away.

"It's about two days old." "It was obviously planted here," she said, pointing to the ground. Not a drop of blood around. "I think it's a message."

"For us?"

"Do you know anyone else who frequents this place?"

They had both spent entire days under that tree without another human being crossing their path. It was a perfect spot, halfway between Nevermore and Jericho, separated from the usual trail.

Wednesday looked around, as if expecting to find the killer snooping among the trees.

She heard Tyler's footsteps approaching. She focused on the man's face; it was swollen, and his features were beginning to distort. Blood stained his graying, unkempt beard, and his eyes were such a blue they seemed made of ice, reminding her too much of the sheriff.

"That pose," he said instead, "reminds me of the body I found when I was going to your house."

Wednesday pressed her lips together. That body was sending too many messages at once, each one more threatening than the last. But what she couldn't understand was why it had broken the established pattern, or if she had been wrong.

"So, he still has those rabid werewolves. There must be a note. Help me find it."

When they felt around in the pockets, the swarm of flies buzzed in all directions, clearing the open wound. Before them, the man's body was a mass of ground flesh, clotted blood, and the necrotic skin of his abdomen where the shadow of an old tattoo peeked out. Finally, they found a folded piece of paper in his shirt pocket, and when Wednesday unfolded it, she felt her own blood freeze, confirming one of her suspicions.

"What does it say?"

She looked up at Tyler, her expression confused and her eyebrows drawn together, then back at the paper.

"Wolf or Hyde?"