Chapter Text
“Alright, I’ll bite,” Wednesday said, breaking the tense silence. “Why’d you drag me into the woods before dessert?”
She’d been looking forward to her mother’s Carob-Cricket Cookies even though Tyler and his mother had barely touched their food. That was how most of their joint family dinners went, so Wednesday often wondered how Morticia Addams and Francoise Galpin had remained best friends for decades.
“You’ll bite?” Tyler smirked. “I think that’s my line.”
Wednesday lifted a brow, unimpressed. She’d barely finished chewing when Tyler announced he needed to talk to her. Alone. The dining table had fallen silent as Wednesday glared at him, privy to his machinations. He could have simply asked after dinner or gotten Thing to pass her a note, but no…
He knew asking in front of mothers and at least one father who made it no secret they wanted to be in-laws would raise his chances of success.
Now they were standing in the woods behind the Addams family manor. The summer air was less oppressive under the green canopy of winding beech trees, but the filtered light, the fresh scent of living, growing things and the silence of nature made the atmosphere strangely intimate.
And intimacy had always felt like a prison to Wednesday.
“Unlike you, I can’t promise it won’t be literal.” He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her. “But you won’t even have to worry if you can’t find me.”
Wednesday immediately began walking away. She had no idea what he was talking about, and didn’t care. She shouldn’t have humored him by asking. Pugsley was going to eat all the cookies if she didn’t make it back to the manor quickly.
“Wait!”
She didn’t.
“Master—”
The word paralyzed her faster than snake venom.
“I’m…in the market for a new master.”
Wednesday turned around, suddenly very interested in what Tyler had to say. Galpin-Addams dinners were always a semi-formal affair so he looked stiff in brown dress pants and a pleated cream polo. A wary but challenging glint lit his eyes.
“I’ll let you enter the running to be my Hyde’s new master if you play a simple game of hide and seek,” he proposed. “All you have to do is track and find me.”
Wednesday leaned against a nearby tree. They both knew it was a tempting offer. Very few could say they’d mastered a Hyde; trained one, harnessed one’s raw power and rage. The fact that this particular Hyde happened to be the annoying son of her mother’s best friend sweetened the pot. Or made it deliciously bitter, Wednesday liked to think.
“Who else is in the running?” She wanted to know who she was up against, even though it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. She’d win Tyler’s leash no matter what—or who.
He bent down and picked up a smooth, oval stone, tossing it high in the air and catching it. His smugness had returned. “I’m afraid that’s classified, ma’am.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not! Safety first, right?”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “They’re signing up to be responsible for a Hyde. I don’t think safety is their primary concern.”
“Well, it’s definitely mine since they won’t expect the danger to come from other competitors,” Tyler said with a pointed look.
She almost smiled. Touché.
It wouldn’t be unlike Wednesday to take out her competition.
“So do we have a deal? I’ll give you two hours. If you manage to find me, we can move on to the next stage.”
There was only one way for Wednesday to respond to such a proposition.
“One hour will suffice.”
A slow grin ate away at Tyler’s face. He caught the stone and held it. They’d known each other their whole lives because of their mothers, so he had to know this was a tempting offer. In fact, he should’ve led with it instead of playing mindless word games.
Tyler Galpin, mediocre student, captain of Nevermore Academy’s football team and occasional bully appeared sweet and guileless in front of adults, but indulged his Hyde characteristics in the presence of his peers. He was undeservedly arrogant and irritating, and if Wednesday became his master she could humble him and put his abilities to good use. At the very least, she could make him stay out of her way when necessary.
“Time to run and hide, Hyde,” Wednesday taunted.
A banal taunt, but worth it to see Tyler roll his eyes.
“When you turn around and start counting, cheater.”
“If you think I’m going to turn my back or close my eyes around you, then your mother should stop bragging to mine about how smart you are.”
He glared, right fist tightening around the stone. As someone who could turn into a giant monster with sharp teeth, tremendous strength, and quick reflexes, Tyler didn’t have many weaknesses, but his mother was one, so naturally Wednesday exploited it.
“Enough about my mom,” he said through clenched teeth. “If you can’t even pretend to play fair, the deal’s off.”
Wednesday pushed off the tree she’d been leaning against and began circling him like the red-shouldered hawks that soared above the tips of the beeches. His stance became defensive and he made sure to keep her in his line of sight at all times.
It was telling when someone didn’t want to do the very thing they were asking of you.
“I imagine you’re the one who wouldn’t want the deal to fall through since you dragged me away from dinner to propose it,” she drawled. “Why do you want a new master all of a sudden?”
Tyler went from defensive to rigid in seconds, and she greedily drank in the discomfort.
“Is Lily not doing it for you anymore?”
Lily Goodheart was a freshman in college Tyler had been dating for the past year. She looked straight out of a Botticelli painting with her round face and long blond hair, and she was just as bland.
“I broke up with her.”
Wednesday stopped her prowling in front of him, choosing to adopt a simpering mask of faux sympathy. “Awww. She didn’t hurt you the way you like?”
Faster than a bullet, Tyler closed the distance between them. Wednesday expected it because his other weakness was his fascination with pain. She recognized it in him the way she recognized it in herself. But while Wednesday’s own fascination with pain lay in both causing and receiving, Tyler’s seemed to lay mostly in receiving. She didn’t know if all Hydes were like this or if he was just special, but she’d first noticed it when they were around eight years old. Francoise had brought him over to play (to Wednesday’s constant dismay) and went to go chat with Morticia in the garden.
Wednesday and Pugsley had been in the drawing room, completely enamored by their first sadhu board. The nails were a shiny silver protruding from black painted wood, but it wasn’t big enough to stand on. Their parents didn’t want them trying that until they were older. So when Tyler wandered over and sat next to Wednesday, she didn’t think anything of it. He watched her and Pugsley fiddle with individual nails and prick themselves, those blue-brown changeling eyes glazing over.
It happened so quickly.
One moment Wednesday was running her thumb over the last row of nails and the next Tyler’s entire hand was on the board, pressing down until drops of blood slid down the nails.
Wednesday frowned. Pugsley gaped. Tyler brought his bloody, hole-ridden hand up to his face, and stared at it for a long time. Then he burst into tears.
Thing, who had been watching them but was distracted by a catalogue selling vintage gloves, startled and scurried off to alert Morticia and Francoise.
Wednesday remembered being confused. Perforating a limb was something an Addams would do. Why had Tyler hurt himself on purpose? Especially if he was just going to cry afterward?
Francoise and Morticia arrived in a flurry of skirts, perfume, and motherly concern. After Pugsley revealed Tyler hurt himself, Morticia chalked it up to childlike curiosity and offered to get the first-aid kit, as well as call the family doctor to administer a tetanus shot. But Francoise wasn’t satisfied. It was the only time Wednesday had seen her upset with Morticia. Francoise cleaned and wrapped Tyler’s hand, and gathered their belongings.
It was red chaos and sharp words and blame, but that day Wednesday noticed something no one else did. Not even Tyler’s own mother. As Francoise carried him away, he peeked over her shoulder and took one last look at the sadhu board covered in his blood.
Tyler’s glassy, tearful eyes held more than childlike curiosity.
They held longing.
And that hidden longing was why Wednesday was currently pinned against a tree. Tyler thought no one saw him. He thought no one knew his secret.
But it had been laid bare before her many moons ago.
His forearm lay heavy across her neck, pressing down on her windpipe. She couldn’t breathe, but he could and he did angrily and laboriously, broad chest heaving in and out, nostrils flaring. He was only using a fraction of his strength, but Wednesday was thoroughly trapped between him and the tree. The burn of constricted airways and the knowledge she wouldn’t be able to push Tyler away no matter how hard she tried spread through Wednesday. She often found herself on the doorstep of physical harm, up against a more powerful opponent. The tension, the adrenaline, and the lick of fear were all familiar but not unwelcome.
“I don’t get hurt,” Tyler growled in her face. “I hurt others on the football field and then I walk off and do it again.”
Wednesday’s lip twitched in amusement. It was absurd that after all these years he hadn’t realized she didn’t react to intimidation like normies. But perhaps his subconscious knew, which was why he’d sought her out to be his master even though they’d disliked each other since they could walk.
“So are you going to hurt me now? Oh, please don’t. I couldn’t bear it,” she deadpanned.
It hurt to talk, but that just made Wednesday savor each word.
Tyler pressed against her throat harder. “Shut up.”
“I see you. I see you so clearly.”
“What’re you talking about? What do you see? You’re not making any sense!”
“I’m not?” Wednesday lifted both hands up to his arm and dug her nails into the flesh of his wrist. His breath hitched and his eyes glazed over. “Then why do you look like you’re enjoying yourself?”
Stating the obvious seemed to bring Tyler’s anger right back. He raised his other arm and punched the tree right next to Wednesday’s face. Tiny pieces splintered and kissed her cheek. His eyes bulged, a bit of the Hyde peeking through. She didn’t even flinch. Her stomach swarmed with excitement like she’d swallowed all of Eugene’s bees.
“Don’t put that on me.” His voice was ragged, low and dangerous. “You and your family have always gotten off to weird crap. You think I fit in just because our moms forced us to play when we were kids and get together for these stupid dinners once a month?”
Wednesday slipped a hand in her pocket. There was a reason all her clothing had them. “What I know is I grew up around a Hyde, so I made sure to pay attention.”
Tyler simply glowered, so she continued even though she barely had air left in her lungs. “I’ve seen you with Goodheart. Everything about her is soft. The way she speaks, the way she touches you and the way she loves you. But ‘soft’ doesn’t make you feel. You want her to leave marks—you want her to bruise you. Your Hyde is bored with safe.”
“Stop it,” he commanded, flushed with anger and truth and shame.
“With pleasure. Look down, you idiot.”
He did, flinching at the small knife pressed against the top of his leg.
“If your hippocampus has been active at any point during school, you know if I nick your femoral artery you’ll bleed out in two minutes,” Wednesday said.
Tyler clenched his jaw, Sapphire Blue granite eyes filled with rage, irritation, and…was that a little admiration? It didn’t matter. He leaned into the arm crushing Wednesday’s windpipe and blanketed her body with his own, causing her neck and hair to catch on the rough tree bark. The back of her feet banged against the roots, compromising her balance. She wished she hadn’t let her mother browbeat her into a black dress with a white lace collar and cuffs, but at least she’d be casket ready.
The irony of Morticia and Francoise most likely drinking tea, not knowing Tyler was cutting off Wednesday’s air supply and betting his freedom on a children’s game was comical. But enough was enough. She was getting light-headed, and Tyler was obviously itching for a preview of what she’d do if given the chance to be his master, so she showed him.
Without warning, Wednesday sliced through his slacks, cutting just below his femoral artery. He gasped and stumbled back, looking down to see a small, red spot blooming across his dress pants. He glanced up at her, mouth agape.
“I didn’t actually hit an artery so close your mouth,” she drawled. “But if you try that again, I’ll make sure I do, then call your mother so she can be the first to find your body.”
And Wednesday was serious. It wasn’t the first time she’d hurt him to see how he’d react. After the sadhu board, she looked for opportunities to test her theory. She wouldn’t call it bullying exactly—no, her mother and Francoise couldn’t catch on—but if Wednesday put little pointy rocks in Tyler’s shoes when they were younger to see how quickly he removed them, it was all part of a bigger plan. And if she pretended to give him an elastic “friendship” bracelet just to see what his face looked like when she snapped it against his wrist, that was reasonable. Because she was on to something and needed confirmation. She got it when Tyler didn’t take the rocks out for hours, and after yelling at Wednesday and calling her mean, she caught him pressing against the red skin around his wrist.
Wednesday was further bolstered by the fact their mothers remained clueless, although she had to get more creative when Pugsley and Thing grew suspicious.
The experiments lasted a while, but when Tyler got taller and stronger, and started tapping into his Hyde side, he became more alert; more defensive and eager to hide his interest in pain, so Wednesday didn’t have as many opportunities.
Until now.
Tyler closed his mouth, applying pressure on his leg to curb the light flow of blood. After a charged silence, his surprise morphed into the smugness she hated so very much. “You’re scared. You’re bringing up Lily because you’re scared.”
Wednesday cleared her throat, resisting the urge to massage it because she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “In what galaxy would I be scared? You don’t even want to name the other people you’ve propositioned because you’re afraid of what I’d do.”
“‘Cause you’re starting to really want this, and you and I both know how you get when you really want something. The possibility of losing in any way drives you crazy, so you use all the manipulation tactics in your arsenal to prevent it.”
He was accurate, and that had been amusing before, but not now. The downside of growing up with someone and knowing them was them knowing you in return.
“Then you must be learning from me—although asking me to come out here in front of our parents is quite entry level when it comes to manipulation. But trying to tell me I’m feeling something I’m not to deflect from your guilty pleasure is more advanced, so good job,” Wednesday praised. “The facts are you dumped Lily as your girlfriend and master because she’s too nice, and you’re not okay with that. You tried to be because it makes you a little more normal like your dad. But you’re an outcast twice over. You’re a Hyde that wants someone to hurt you so good, your eyes will pop out of their sockets without even having to transform.”
In that moment, Tyler’s eyes bulged as he struggled to stay in control.
He wanted to kill her. She could smell it. But if he did, he wouldn’t get what he wanted.
“Tell me I’m wrong—that it’s not the reason you’re doing this,” Wednesday taunted, adjusting the collar he’d wrinkled with his forearm.
“Your novel.” He seemed to grasp the new thought like a lifeline. “If you can’t find me, not only are you unworthy—I get your novel.”
“Out of the question.”
“Is it that bad?”
Wednesday bristled. The last literary agent she’d sent her novel to hadn’t exactly called it bad, but the changes they wanted her to make hacked away at her brain like a rusty axe when she lay in bed at night.
Did her writing hold such little appeal? While her Viper de la Muerte series wasn’t a romance, Enid once mentioned something called “dark romance”. It was a sub-genre of romance and it was currently “trending”. Some of the books featured murder, dismemberment, kidnapping, knife play, bondage, assassination, the mafia, and guns getting shoved in one of the few places Wednesday wasn’t willing to explore. So if agents, publishers, and audiences alike were finding value in some of the very things Wednesday wrote about (sans the gun in private places) why wouldn’t anyone take a chance on Viper de la Muerte? Did she need to shoehorn a shoddy romantic subplot into the book? Or take Enid up on her offer to advertise it on something called BookTok?
What if Wednesday was simply a bad writer?
Tyler smiled at her silence. She knew his weaknesses and he knew hers.
“Come on, it’s not like I’d burn it. I’d just read it. Finally. And hey, I might even have some helpful feedback so you don’t keep scaring off publishers.”
Wednesday’s nails dug into her palms as her fists curled tighter. She was obviously being goaded like she’d goaded him earlier. But she didn’t like being on the receiving end of her own practices. She wanted to wipe that smile off his face.
More importantly, she wanted to know if he’d keep it the next time she drew blood.
“I won’t turn around, but I’ll close my eyes.” Hydes were not known for their grace, so she’d be able to hear if he got close or tried anything. “I’ll give you thirty minutes to find a hiding spot.”
Tyler paused in thought before conceding. “I suppose that’ll do.”
“Are you still bleeding? I don’t want you to accuse me of cheating a second time if a trail of blood leads me to you,” she pointed out.
He looked at his leg like he’d forgotten she’d cut him. It wasn’t a lot of blood, but Wednesday wanted to make sure nothing interfered with their game. She grabbed the hem of her dress, Tyler looking on curiously, and ripped it.
His eyes widened, and he looked away at the sight of her exposed thigh. Her mother was going to kill her for ruining this dress, but she’d worry about that later. She walked up to Tyler and threw the scrap of fabric at his face. He caught it and tied it around his leg.
“It’s a shallow cut, but it will still need to be disinfected later.”
He put a hand over his heart, brow furrowing, “Aww. Are you worried about me?”
“I try not to be ableist, but handling a one-legged Hyde doesn’t hold the same appeal. Because mark my words: I will become your master, Tyler. I’ve been researching Hydes since I could read.”
Surprise flashed across his face, but it was quickly masked by humor. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. The only one who can endanger my family is me.”
“Ohhh…so scary.”
“Yes, that’s why you want me, isn’t it? Get moving.”
Wednesday closed her eyes and waited until Tyler’s footsteps faded in a gentle chorus of crushed leaves and broken twigs. She opened her eyes and retrieved her pocket watch to take note of the time. Twenty-six minutes was long enough to strategize. As she put together a plan, she made peace with the fact she wouldn’t be getting any of her mother’s Carob-Cricket Cookies. It wasn’t too difficult. She’d still be eating well.
Because if intimacy was a prison, then hunting was a decadent dessert, and she was determined to get her fill.
Twenty-six minutes later, Wednesday began to walk in what she calculated was the same direction as Tyler. She’d go to the middle of the woods and start searching in a circular formation until she reached the edges of the property. The woods had been a constant backdrop during her childhood; from games of hide and seek and tag with Pugsley to camping with the entire family. There was also a map of it in the Addams family library that Wednesday had spent one summer poring over.
Tyler had a decent knowledge of the woods too. He’d played some of those games of hide and seek and tag with Wednesday and Pugsley. But Wednesday still had the upper hand. She knew the landscape like the back of Thing.
She’d sufficiently hydrated during dinner, and it was the middle of summer so it wouldn’t be getting dark for a while. The conditions were acceptable. She was ready to claim her Hyde.
On her journey to the heart of the woods, Wednesday kept her eyes open for both human and Hyde tracks, and disturbed foliage. She peered up into tall trees and examined any hollow trunks or deep ditches. When she reached the middle, she began expanding her search outward. There were forty minutes left.
Where would she hide if she were a Hyde that clearly wanted a certain master, but didn’t want that master to get the title too easily? Where had he hidden when they were kids?
Small caves? She searched any she came across. The big, strange formation of rocks located on the west side of the woods? There was no trace of Tyler behind them. She even climbed a tree for a better vantage point, but didn’t see anything.
The air cooled, humming with lazy insects and the distant sound of a river she’d swam in so many times. Red-shouldered hawks completed aerials around the beech trees as she mirrored their formation on the ground. They had something in common: they were both searching for prey. In the hawks’ case, that was other birds, squirrels, rabbits and reptiles. In Wednesday’s case that was Tyler. She walked and walked, imagining all the things she could do once she controlled a Hyde. Lifting heavy things would definitely be the first order of business. She’d been meaning to rearrange the dungeon. It’d also be helpful to have one around the next time she decided to go after another Chet LaTroy. She and Thing had handled LaTroy just fine, of course, but a Hyde would’ve saved time. Then there was all the research Wednesday wanted to do. Not much was known about Hydes, so maybe she could make a few breakthroughs.
Wednesday was so lost in thought about what she’d do when she won, she didn’t notice the bear until it was right in front of her.
She stopped in her tracks and blinked at it. She usually never let anything sneak up on her like this.
The first thing Wednesday noticed was that it was a black bear. She was fortunate. They didn’t get too big, but she’d begrudgingly accepted the fact that she was petite, so the bear was still bigger than her.
It tilted its head and stared before trotting closer.
She wasn’t afraid because of what her father had taught her and Pugsley when they got old enough to start exploring the woods:
“If it's black, fight back. If it's brown, lie down. If it’s white, good night.”
Wednesday had never seen any brown or grizzly bears in these woods, but she’d come across a few black bears. Most were simply curious, so sometimes she took advantage of that to study and interact with them. But she didn’t have time today, so she’d put the rhyme into practice. She held out her arms despite feeling silly, and shouted. The bear jerked back, stumbled over its own paws and raced into a thicket of bushes.
She huffed out a laugh. In a way, the bear reminded her of Tyler. His Hyde form wouldn’t be considered “cute” like the furry mammal, but both were amusing. She frowned. Unless she lost the game. That wouldn’t be amusing at all. Wednesday had twenty minutes of her hour left according to her pocket watch. It was time to move on. She covered significant ground, but started getting antsy. She couldn’t give Tyler access to the novel she’d been working on for most of her life. It was an extension of herself; her heart in black ink on the page. She wanted to control him, but refused to give pieces of herself in return no matter how hypocritical it was.
After a while, Wednesday came across the burbling river near the edge of the woods. She stared into the clear water. Was Tyler hiding behind a giant rock or down the river bend somewhere? Taking off her boots and socks, she waded into the river, letting it soothe her aching feet.
The memories came with the water.
Tyler swam in this river with her and Pugsley when they were kids. She couldn’t count how many summers they’d spent in it. One particular summer flitted through Wednesday’s mind from time to time. She was thirteen, and starting to “bloom” according to her mother. Blooming aka puberty was frustrating, constricting, and hairy. And she didn’t miss the way Tyler’s eyes lingered over her body in a bathing suit.
When they were even younger, Wednesday liked to force Tyler and Pugsley to play “Siren”, which was a game she made up where she pulled the boys into the water and tried to drown them. It was way better than Marco Polo, but she hadn’t played in years. At thirteen, she was happy not to play Siren because she hadn’t wanted to feel the toned muscles developing on Tyler’s arms, chest, and legs.
It didn’t mean Wednesday couldn’t have fun, though.
That summer she remembered floating further down stream than usual. Her feet couldn’t touch the bottom, so when she drifted past a huge rock she decided to jump off it. She just hadn’t anticipated slipping, and banging her head against it. Water rushed up Wednesday’s nose, breaching her lungs as her head throbbed. Disoriented, she twisted and turned, but couldn’t tell up from down. An unfamiliar sensation started building in her gut—panic—until someone grabbed her around the waist, pulled her close, and propelled them to the surface. Wednesday gasped for air, wheezing and coughing in an undignified manner as she was dragged to shore.
She collapsed in the dirt on her back, Tyler hovering over her and blotting out the sun. He didn’t ask if she was okay; he just stared, blond bangs dripping water onto her face. Wednesday wiped it away, then touched her forehead, relieved when her hand came away with no blood. Tyler continued to hover, biceps straining as his arms bracketed her.
It was a moment that had always confused Wednesday because they ignored each other at school and antagonized each other when their mothers weren’t looking. But in that moment, on the riverbank, Tyler had been frozen in fear…for her.
In the present, Wednesday stopped wading through the river. She was covered in a thin layer of sweat because of all the walking, one of her braids was unraveling, and she was holding up her dress so she wouldn’t have to continue the game soaking wet. She must have looked ridiculous—she was certainly starting to feel it. What if Tyler’s goal for the day was antagonizing her? No matter how masochistic Tyler was, would he truly hand over the reigns to his Hyde to a childhood adversary? He could be lying about breaking up with Lily and looking for a new master just to get his hands on Viper de la Muerte. Just to humiliate her. He’d been trying to get a peek for years.
Wednesday trudged back to the riverbank and slipped on her socks and shoes. She checked her pocket watch, and her pulse quickened.
Eleven minutes left.
She couldn’t lose to Tyler. She’d never hear the end of it. And if the loss didn’t cause her to implode, he’d be the first person to read her novel. It sounded silly to worry about since Wednesday’s main goal was to have many eventually read about Viper’s adventures. But it was the principle of the matter. The intent. The fact that it would be Tyler reading it before anyone else.
And if he wasn’t lying about needing a new master, she’d have to watch him be led around by someone inept when it could’ve been her. Wednesday shoved the watch back into her pocket, and started sprinting. She had to find him.
The river was already located near the edge of the woods, so it only took her around three minutes to hit the property line. She didn’t generally come out this far because there was nothing to do. The dead trees were beautiful, but sparse in the dry, cracked dirt. If she ventured out a little further, she’d be on the neighbor’s property.
Wednesday’s heart thudded in her chest, head on a swivel. She spotted something in the ground in the distance, and walked toward it. Something was off. Was that…a hole? Could Tyler be hiding in it. She crept closer, but it didn’t matter how careful she was. A few feet away from the large hole, the ground crumbled underneath her feet and she plunged into darkness.
She’d always liked what falling did to the pit of her stomach, but not necessarily the landing.
Wednesday was going to break something, and more importantly she was going to lose this game of hide and seek. She was going to lose the chance to become Tyler’s master and he was going to devour Viper de la Muerte, and spit out its bones.
But the landing never came. The pain never came. She fell into the Hyde’s arms she’d been looking for.