Chapter Text
The moving van disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving behind five girls and a growing sense of unease.
Enid dropped her duffel bag onto the porch with a heavy thunk, then stared up at the house like it might blink. “Okay... um- this place is definitely a vibe.”
The house loomed at the end of a winding hill road, far from town. It was big - no, massive - three stories tall, with crooked gables, gray stone walls wrapped in dormant vines, and stained glass windows that looked perpetually rain-streaked. A crooked iron gate still stood open from when they'd arrived, creaking in protest with every breath of wind.
“It looks like it eats people,” Divina said flatly.
Bianca gave a skeptical glance at the cracked gargoyle perched above the front door. “Are we sure this isn’t condemned?”
“Legally? It passed inspection,” Wednesday said, her voice calm as ever, a suitcase in one hand, an ominously long cello case in the other.
Enid beamed. “The listing said gothic charm with modern upgrades! I bet the inside is gorgeous. Like, dusty… but gorgeous.”
“No one finds a six-bedroom house with no neighbors, a private forest, and rent this low unless there's a catch,” Yoko muttered, adjusting her sunglasses. “I'm calling it. One of us is getting possessed.”
“Dibs,” Enid chirped.
Bianca was still suspicious. “Wait, and who even owns this place? The landlord’s name was just... not there?”
Wednesday blinked slowly. “Sounds reputable.”
No one questioned it.
Inside, the house was dark, cold, and smelled faintly of incense and old wood. A grandfather clock ticked in the foyer. An oil painting of a pale woman with six fingers and a hawk perched on her shoulder stared down at them from above the staircase.
“I swear her eyes just moved,” Divina whispered.
“They do that,” Wednesday murmured.
Enid spun around, squinting at her. “Wait, what?”
“I said they don’t do that,” Wednesday corrected smoothly.
As the girls scattered to claim rooms, dragging their things up winding staircases and opening creaky doors, Wednesday lingered in the main hall. Her eyes flicked once to the painting, then to the chandelier with the scorched chain, then down to the faint scratch marks in the hardwood floors.
The house remembered her.
She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a small brass key with the initials A.F. engraved on it, and slipped it into a hidden panel behind the stair rail. A click. The wall shifted open a sliver, revealing a hallway that didn’t exist on the floor plan.
She shut it again just as Enid bounced down the stairs.
"Wens! You have to see this room I found - there’s a fireplace in the bathroom and the tub is, like, claw-footed and big enough to fight in.”
Wednesday gave her a cool glance. “That does sound practical.”
Enid grinned. “Still think this place is too much?”
Wednesday looked around at the house - hers, technically - as it creaked softly like it was listening in.
“Not at all,” she said. “It’s exactly enough.”