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“Ow, dang it. But are you sure? I know Lurch could pick you up if a flight ticket is the problem. Vermont’s not that far from here.”
Enid tried for the millionth time, the timbre of her voice comically resemblant of a whining puppy as she spoke on the only rotary phone’s in the Addams Manor. Her cellphone had mysteriously disappeared the night before right after the family’s toddler, Pubert, had intently stared at her while she was playing Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage! in it. And she didn’t even get to save her progress!
From the other end of the line, Agnes sighed again, poorly disguised disappointment coating her voice. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry, this was so last minute I even had to unpack my suitcase and everything.”
Today wasn’t just any ordinary day. This specific December night was an extra special occasion for the Addamses’ since the hibernal solstice was to take place, and in honor for it being the longest night of the year that was the date they would always set their winter ball in, where every family member, distant relative, creature, lusus naturae and Cousin Itt, was invited.
To say Enid had been beyond thrilled would be an understatement. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d been invited, but it would be the first she was able to attend since high school and its endless club activities and extracurriculars were finally over, and college was still a couple of months away. She’d looked for the right dress to buy, the perfect shoes to match, the most spectacular makeup to wear and scrolled through Pinterest for the prettiest hairdo inspiration she could find, all so she could dance the night away accompanied by her two favorite people on earth: her marvelous girlfriend and their somewhat friend –more like adopted offspring from hell– Agnes.
This was supposed to be the night of their lives, and until a few hours ago the young werewolf had been convinced of it. That was, of course, until well into the early morning when, trembling from anticipation and unable to sleep, from her temporary side of the goth’s room she noticed Wednesday’s phone flashing on her bedside table, and after getting up to turn it off she realized it was a message notification from their group chat –named Powerpuff girls, courtesy of her own self, though she still argued with Agnes over who would get to be Blossom in that scenario–. She really, truly tried not to peek, but out of the corner of her eye she saw a thing that could only come out of her cruelest nightmares: the vanisher was apologizing, stating there was a major change of plans and she would have to miss the event.
So that’s how they had found themselves having this call at freaking 4:36 a.m. “Okay, but are you a hundred percent positive that there’s no chance? Like, you absolutely can't, maybe, I don’t know… sneak out or something? Just for a few hours?” Enid twirled the phone’s cord around her finger, anxiously.
She leaned back against the wall, remembering to be careful not to activate any trapdoors or booby traps awaiting for their next unsuspecting victim. It had happened to her before, more than once. Still in her pajamas, the baby blue of her shirt clashed disturbingly with the decaying greenish-grey paint, dark mahogany moldings and mostly black decor.
“A thousand percent positive. My mom woke me up in a frenzy, babbling about the original hosts of this month’s group meeting getting food poisoned and that we were next in line for it; so it has to be today or else who knows when we will get the chance again. These people really fight for that honor.”
The group Agnes’ mom was obsessed with was somewhat of a re-brand of the former Some of your parts self-help group her daughter had attended before Professor Orloff was gruesomely removed as their leader. This time, they accepted outcasts and normies alike, and it seemed that the original purpose had been watered down from you’re whole as you are to tantric energy studies –whatever the hell that was–, life coaching crap laced with weirdly religious undertones and most importantly, member fees and voluntary contributions/donations to achieve maximum levels of… enlightenment? Something along those lines.
Agnes, albeit cautious, was really touched by her mother’s efforts to finally try and understand her– in her own way, that is. Enid, however, couldn’t help but frown every time the subject was brought up. So a cult, she’d whispered to Wednesday that first time the redhead was explaining it to them, to which she’d only nodded, discreetly. Both herself and her girlfriend saw through the pretty, glittery trash and into its fraudulent nature, but unlike the goth who had just shrugged after Agnes’ had dismissed their criticism, the werewolf took every opportunity she could get to voice her concerns.
“Mhm, I see. But do you want to be a part of that? It’s okay if you just ditch, it’s not like it’s actually important.”
“It is important to my mom, and so it is important to me.”
“Normies get tricked so easily, though. Why don’t you just talk to her so she–”
“Enid, not this again. We’re in a really good spot now, I even managed to convince her not to donate as much and she still wants to do this with me, and most importantly I want to be part of it with her. So just drop it.”
“Okay, okay. Jeez, I thought one of their teachings was the practice of mindfulness, is that one also a scam?” The wolf let out a wicked chuckle when she caught Agnes’ annoyed huff. Bullseye.
“Mock me as much as you like, at least I can say my mom and I are patching things up.”
Enid could have choked with her own shocked gasp. That had been the lowest of low blows that damned Chucky doll could come back with, and she didn’t even hesitate to use it! Wednesday was really rubbing off on her after all. A couple tense seconds passed until the blonde managed to compose herself, deciding not to poke at the redhead any further to not ruin the vibe. Not because her own mom was still a sore spot for her, not at all.
“You always need to shoot to kill, huh?”
“Well, if your house is made of glass…”
“But it’s such a bummer, though.” Enid pivoted abruptly, although in her head it sounded like a smoother transition. “I really wanted the three of us to have a real dance for once without all the normie nonsense.” There was yet another pause from the other side, and she wondered if she had really crossed a line this time.
“Albeit, it wouldn’t be Wednesday’s first real dance. Right?” The twinge of malice within the vanisher’s fake mellow tone didn’t escape Enid’s ears.
“Hmm? What do you mean?” She raised an eyebrow, straightening her posture.
“Well, Wednesday’s first dance was on prom night, wasn’t it? In her first year at Nevermore.”
Enid scoffed, “you mean Stephen King’s Carrie palooza? That was a total mess, the normie’s–”
“Flooded the dance floor with red paint? I know. I know every detail of Wednesday’s school life.”
“You little creep,” Enid reprimanded, softer than in previous years. “You said you stopped stalking her!”
“And I did, I did! It's not like I can erase what I already know about her, you know?”
“Yeah sure, you psycho.”
“Nevertheless,” she continued, and Enid could perfectly picture her rolling her eyes. “That was Wednesday’s first dance, and if I remember correctly– which we know I do– a certain normie was the one to accompany her.”
Ah, there it was, Tyler Fucking Galpin. Just the mention of his name could still trigger Enid’s fight or flight response. An unpleasant shiver ran down her spine as she had to make a conscious effort not to let her claws unsheath like they so desperately wanted to. Even to this day, she sometimes fantasized about whether it was possible for Pugsley to accidentally bring another person back to life, and she’d beg the gods for that person to also accidentally be dear ol’ Tyler Galpin so she could tear him apart limb by limb all over again.
“Are you still there, pup?”
Snapped out of her gory daydream, the werewolf nodded before remembering the redhead couldn’t see her. She didn’t even register the term of endearment. “Yes, yes. I’m still here.”
She silently thanked the Addamses’ vintage gothic aesthetic, as the only reason she hadn’t split the phone’s handset in half was that the device was one of the last ones made entirely out of metal. Still, it now sported some pretty noticeable indentations where her fingers were viciously gripping it.
“Are you nervous about it?”
“About what? The dance? Come on, you know I’m a great dancer.” Enid tried coming off as confident, but it ended up sounding more as self-reassurance than anything.
Agnes giggled with such mischief Enid narrowed her eyes even before hearing her next words. “Oh, yes. And from what I heard, Tyler did not. Not even a little bit, with his two left feet and the flexibility of a dried-out tree trunk.”
“Exactly, so–”
“But then again, he didn’t have to, right?” A pause, before the final nail in the coffin, “Wednesday had them both covered in that department. Rumor has it, she danced like it was the Épidémie dansante all night. No one had seen her dance like that before– or after, for that matter.”
“I… I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember it that well.” Enid knew not even one of her dumbass brothers would buy that.
She hated to admit the vanisher was absolutely right. She could vividly remember her girlfriend’s –bestie back then– black, frilly dress flowing hypnotically round and around with her whimsical movements; her hair up, braided in a breathtaking fashion, makeup impeccably sharp. Everything that night had made her look as otherworldly as a centuries old haunted doll. And beside her, Tyler’s idiotic face and hideous tuxedo ruined the otherwise fascinating view.
“It’s funny actually,” Agnes didn’t bother on entertaining her obvious bull, “how you seem to be in a very similar position as that hyde was years ago.”
“We are nothing alike.” Enid’s voice dropped dangerously low.
“They were also dating after all.”
“Have fun with your mom, Agnes.”
As quick as lighting, Enid hung up the phone, finally cracking it before knocking it off the round coffee table it sat on. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breathing as ragged as when she’d chase down other creatures of the night during a full moon. Her boiling rage, however, was way more dizzying than all that. For a minute, she worried she might transform on the spot, her muscles achingly tight inside her human skin as her inner wolf growled.
“Up before the sun, I see.”
Startled out of her body, Enid jumped in front of the table trying to cover the obliterated phone by her feet. “B-baby! Sorry. Did I wake you?”
Wednesday was wearing her black silken night gown over her also black pajamas, arms crossed across her chest as pristine braids already in place cascaded down her shoulders. With only the dim light from the few lit candles here and there, she looked just like an apparition eager to drag her soul down to hell. What a charming scenario.
“Precisely, however your bestial snores did not, and I’ll have you know that is an unwelcome change. Do not repeat it.”
Without another word she got closer to her and practically wrapped the werewolf’s arms around herself, leaning in for her morning kiss, one of their many rituals which the goth refused to skip even once. Enid grinned despite her still racing heart as her companion rested her cheek against her collarbone, a cold hand flat on her chest.
“Mhm, cross my heart.” Enid giggled, placing a peck on Wednesday's forehead. “You’re in a better mood than most days, though. Clingier. It suits you and I like it.” She grabbed the goth’s chin and showered her face with more loud kisses.
“So,” Wednesday cleared her throat after the relentless attack, face returning to its previous position leaning on Enid’s chest. Despite the pokerface, the werewolf could feel slight heat radiating from her cheeks through the fabric of her shirt, “what was all that commotion about? There has to be a reason why the poor, unsuspecting house phone has been massacred.”
“Oh, yeah. That…” Enid nuzzled her nose into the crown of Wednesday’s head, inhaling deeply to ground herself. “Um, I couldn’t convince Agnes to come for the night so I guess I got carried away with my disappointment. That's all.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Wednesday observed the subtle shift in the blonde’s features, not anywhere near convinced. “Ah, yes. I read her message before coming to find you. Such a shame, isn’t it?”
“Yeah… I guess it was.”
-
Enid had gone through a lot of stuff in her life that normal teenagers and even most outcasts could only imagine, but she would have never guessed this was going to be what finally broke her sanity. The entropy of her mind, always manageable, had felt like an endless labyrinth from which she could not find an exit, returning to the same dead end every time, filled with horrid images of Tyler and Wednesday dancing as a soon-to-be couple.
Through breakfast she had barely mumbled a word; she didn’t even notice the smiley face they arranged on her piece of roadkill pie. She’d showered, got her hair ready with the help of Thing and ate lunch with the Addams in pretty much the same state, grinning politely or simply nodding along when alluded in conversation. Everyone was too busy anyway, so that helped her pass almost unnoticed, except for a certain dark seer, that is.
From her spot in front of the mirror, Wednesday’s glance focused on Enid, the lightest raise of an eyebrow thrown her way as she was still looking at the floor apparently deep in contemplation. Her wonderfully pointy nails absentmindedly scratched the base of her neck as her right leg bounced up and down anxiously.
“Is there a problem, mon chien?”
“Stop calling me that, I’ve told you.” Enid replied her usual complaint without any real annoyance, as if on auto-pilot. Just like she’d been doing the entire day.
The ball gown she had picked up with so much care, sublimely pink with a sweetheart cleavage and embellished with lilac and pale blue flowers had been donned and adjusted without much thought a couple hours ago, the ruffled skirt now scrunched up as she sat on the bed. She had finished her makeup around half an hour ago, so to avoid biting her nails idly and ruining the manicure that took Thing more than two and a half hours the day before, she had been chewing at the inside of her lips, and she was starting to taste the faint, coppery tang of her blood. Awesome, there goes her expensive lipgloss.
“Enid, look at me.”
Shit. Her girlfriend was now right in front of her –when did she even leave her spot?–, black eyes and the tiniest downturn on her brow intently trying to pry open her skull, reach her scrambled brain and dig out the worries occupying it since that morning. Enid aligned an already in place strand of hair behind her ear, silently making sure her head was still in one piece.
“What’s up, baby?”
“You have been rather inattentive the entire day, and don’t bother to contradict me. It is evident something has been preoccupying that air-filled head of yours.”
“Sweet like cyanide as always, my love.”
“That is a common misconception, I assure you its taste is–”
“I know, I know. I’m just messing with you.” Enid giggled, tension lifting off her shoulders ever so slightly. At Wednesday’s narrowing eyes, she rolled her own. “It’s really nothing.”
A black-void eye twitched with exasperation, “I will tie you up to this bed and scorch the information out of you if necessary.” At this, Enid smiled suggestively.
“Baby, you don’t need to threaten me with a good time. Besides, for you, that’s any Sunday.”
The werewolf got up, towering over the tiny goth as one of her strong arms snaked its way around her slim waist, pulling her close. She smirked when she was met with only a tad of resistance, her girlfriend’s arms folding over her chest but not pushing her away, as Enid pressed a kiss to her unwilling temple.
“This is not over.”
“Are you girls ready?”
Luckily, outside of Wednesday’s room stood a visibly excited Gomez, on his arm a more composed but still merrier than usual Morticia. She was wearing one of her signature black mermaid silhouette dresses, this one more lacey but still long-sleeved with a tight corset accentuating her already perfect hourglass figure. Her husband, on the other hand, had put on a flamboyant, burgundy button up with big frilly cuffs and collar under a black velvet vest and silky pants that also matched his wife’s attire.
Enid cut Wednesday off as she was about to, presumably, dismiss her parents. “Yes, we’re all set up, Mr. A. I’m obsessed with your outfits, by the way!”
“Thank you, dear. You look absolutely dreadful, both of you.” Morticia said with a subtly tight smile on her crimson tinted lips.
Her girlfriend’s mom, since even before they started dating, had always been nothing but amazingly kind and attentive to her; a true intake of earthy, fresh air to contrast the stale, humid breath that was her own mother. However, it would have been impossible to miss that ever present twinge of discomfort Morticia seemed unable to hide in its entirety when looking at Enid’s pastel colored clothing and hair, even after years. The lycanthrope couldn’t help her amusement off her face at this point, instead choosing to bow her head as if in a light reverence.
“Well then, queridas, allow me the honor to escort these three divinely nightmarish women to the salon. The guests have already started to arrive.” Gomez offered his free arm to his daughter who stared at it without moving a single muscle, and Enid just rolled her eyes while reaching for it herself, dragging Wednesday along by her waist.
“This is yet to conclude, fleabag.” She whispered as they made their way down the massive hall.
“Anything and everything you say, my love.” This earned her a nudge to the ribs. She just laughed it off.
-
As they arrived at the main salon –because of course these filthy rich people had several–, Wednesday’s parents left the two girls behind as Enid, even amongst her troubled state, took a moment to gawk at the display of utter extravagance and luxurious gothic ornamentation before her. A lot of attendees were already scattered around eating and or chatting with one another, all dressed in opulent robes and attires made with the finest fabrics, some on top of fur and/or extra limbs; there were at least two dozen large tables draped with delicate, embroidered black mantles surrounding the huge dancefloor. At the far end, an ample dais stood proud with a group of musicians playing a classical piece, the tempo slow but dramatic as the cool moonlight filtering through the floor to ceiling window and the warm light coming from the behemoth of a chandelier on the ceiling combined together beautifully.
The decorations were not only exquisite but also absolutely hazardous, from heavy marble statues adorned with very sharp-looking, very real weaponry, to animal skins that could and would bite your feet off if you dared step within a one-meter radius to them; lit candles that never seemed to melt completely on every candelabrum in the closest proximity possible to any flammable surface; half-alive, half-dead appetizers arranged in the most eccentric fashion one could think of –such as the blue lobster carpaccio in the shape of an actual giant blue lobster. Typical Addamses’ customs and traditions that Enid should have already gotten used to but… she would get there eventually.
“Woah, your parents really know how to throw a party.” The blonde chuckled, still in awe. One of the servers passed them by, offering age-appropriate beverages from their tray.
“The Addams are creatures of many talents.” Wednesday smirked, taking two glasses of sparkling punch and handing one to her companion.
“Flirting has become one of those now. What else are you hiding under that sleeve of yours?” The werewolf took a sip, pulling her girlfriend towards her with her free arm.
“Dancing is also part of my repertoire. Would you like to see for yourself?” Wednesday leaned into her ear, “I have had plenty of practice.”
Albeit, it wouldn’t be Wednesday’s first real dance. Right?
“I…” Enid’s pulse quickened. “I just remembered…” Quickly eyeing the room, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind while shoving her glass into her girlfriend’s hands. “I was supposed to give Margaret some of my new Korean conditioner!” She almost leaped backwards, freeing herself from the embrace as if it scorched her.
It took a few blinks through a blank stare for Wednesday to respond, “beg your pardon?”
“Yeah! You know how Cousin Itt is always complaining about those pesky knots in his hair. I thought he could use some.” Enid grinned a little too wide, showing all of her teeth.
“And why are you giving it to Margaret, again?” Crap.
“It’s an anniversary gift! She just wanted to surprise him.”
Wednesday raised an eyebrow, unamused. “We just attended their anniversary dinner three months ago.” Double-triple crap.
“And… that’s gonna surprise him even more, huh? Such a genius!” She laughed a little too audibly that a couple people, including Margaret who she’d randomly spotted, turned towards them. She had been sitting at a table a few meters from them alongside her husband and son.
“Enid, this is–”
“Maggie, my girl! Come with me, I got your stuff!”
Wednesday just stood there, perplexed and in all honesty getting irritated, while Enid dragged a visibly confused Margaret away from her family until they disappeared down the hall. Then, with a frown, she downed the two punch glasses in a single swig each.
-
The irony of her situation did not escape her; on the contrary, Enid was well aware of how ridiculous she’d been acting all night. First, she could not keep Margaret entertained for that long; of course she wanted to dance with her stupid family and eat the damn delicious food and have a good freaking time– and also, Enid had just run out of conditioner.
Then, after getting back to the party and making the straightest bee-line in the opposite direction to Wednesday, she had found herself in an impossible argument between the conjoined twins Flora and Fauna about who was wearing the best dress. Enid had to run for her life after an hour and a half of the increasingly furious back and forth, and did so by excusing herself to the poultry appetizers tables, in which she then made an inhumane effort to carry on a conversation with uncle Digit while he used his four arms to stuff as many white peacock meatballs as possible while still talking.
When her stomach could not handle it anymore, she’d tried hiding herself by sitting at an empty far-end table. Dropping her head unceremoniously on top of the black mantle, she glanced at the people now swarming the dance floor, and it was evident everyone was having the time of their lives. So joyful and carefree spending time with one another, laughing and chatting and dancing around; meanwhile, she was here, miserable and pathetic with a lone glass of now warm apple cider in front of her.
Just as she was debating whether to go to the kitchen and help the staff carry whatever heavy crap they needed just to have something to do, a presence came out of nowhere, grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her away from her seat in the span of half a second. Enid did not need to see their face to know who it was, and even though she could have resisted very easily, judging by her dead grip and almost tangible dark aura around her she knew it was wiser to accept her fate like a criminal about to die on the gallows.
-
This had to be psychological torture, the way Wednesday took the longest way outside using trapdoors under skin rugs, hidden passages activated by the most random mechanisms, entire flights of spiral stairs –both up and down– and secret doors to rooms Enid could absolutely not place in the house plan.
Finally, after the tortuous and silent path, they ended up outside of the manor’s west wing, right in front of the stone walkway leading to the Addam’s Family Cemetery, with the greatest mausoleums peeking through the fog and decaying tree trunks of the woods. Enid wondered if the corpses inside were mocking her and the predicament she was in.
The lycanthrope sat on a bench nearby, the metal’s coldness penetrating the fabric of her dress as Wednesday waited an additional couple of minutes before speaking, effectively making her squirm in anguish.
“After wasting the night– our night, as you called it, that you were supposedly so ecstatic about,” the goth looked directly into Enid's eyes for the first time, “would you at least grant me the leniency of knowing why, in the seven circles of hell, have you been avoiding me?”
“What? Baby, I would never–”
“Save it.” Wednesday cut her off, sharply, “I am not blind, and you are terrible at concealing your emotions, so I am going to ask one more time: why have you been avoiding me all night? And do not dare to lie to me.”
Wednesday stared at her yet again with such intensity it felt like she was successfully smothering, one by one, all of the layers of crap Enid had been trying to cover her worries with all day, and the deep frown staining her regal features as well as her martially straightened posture left no room for any more of her bull. She messed up bad this time, didn’t she?
Enid let out a breath, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay, I just… I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“I’m afraid I do not know who you are referring to.”
“Ugh, who else Wednesday? The scum of the earth, the poor excuse of an outcast of Tyler!”
It took a good ten to fifteen seconds for Wednesday’s eyes to flash in recognition, to which Enid couldn’t even bring herself to relish on. “Galpin? Enid, he’s–”
“Six feet under ground, I know. I put him there.” She grabbed her head, not caring about disheveling her hair, “I just– Fuck, I’m gonna sound so stupid.”
“Silence will not have the opposite effect.” A sardonic comment, yes, but also filled with sincerity. The lycanthrope took a deep breath, knowing this had already gotten too out of hand because of her own cowardice.
“The first time I saw you dancing, it was as if my whole world had started spinning around your pace. I couldn’t believe my eyes nor look away.” She raised her head to connect their glances once more, “you looked like an incantation, an entity brought into our realm floating all over the dancefloor amongst us simpletons.” Okay, she may have had some chivalry lessons with Mr. Addams, but in her defense, the pink hue now staining Wednesday’s otherwise pale cheeks proved they worked.
“You have no idea how much I wanted to be in that damn hyde’s place at that moment. Even myself, without knowing why, I… I just wished I could ask you to dance with me instead, to let your guard down with me the same way you seemed to do with him but I chickened out, and just stood there like a total idiot.” Enid let out a sound between a groan and a growl, sky blue eyes flashing electric indigo for a second.
“I guess I’m just jealous,” Enid scoffed. “Jealous of a dead guy, how pathetic is that?”
Wednesday uncharacteristically hesitated for a couple of moments. “Exceptionally, if you’d appreciate my honesty.”
Another slightly bitter chuckle from the blonde, “not today, baby. I really don’t.”
She’d never wanted to make this into an argument, but her one-track mind just couldn’t let it go and now she had ruined both of their nights whining about a fucking dance with a fucking moron that happened at fucking Nevermore fucking three years ago.
They stood in silence for a long while, the perpetual chill of the night within the Addams’ estate doing little to appease the heat still boiling from Enid’s chest, where her heart had left to start hammering inside her eardrums, all the way up her flushed face. Wednesday remained with her eyes fixed on the ground, not meeting her girlfriend’s after such a passionate declaration. Enid grinned lightly despite herself. Morbidly cute, like a newborn rattlesnake.
Sighing for the billionth time, she spoke slowly, as if any sudden movement could trigger her rage all over again. “Listen, baby. I need to cool down for a little while, if you’d like to–”
“I will return to the dance now. Once you’ve palliated your temper, you’re welcome to rejoin us.” Hah, colder than tundra herself.
“Sheesh, don’t try to lift my spirits too high–”
“Upon your return, use the main entrance.” Squinting in confusion, Enid saw her make her way towards the same hidden door they had exited from.
“But I thought the main entrance was for guests.”
“It is, indeed.” She said while holding the door open with one hand, “you are our guest tonight, Enid Sinclair.” Then, she disappeared from her sight.
A few minutes went by, and though still baffled by her girlfriend’s sudden change in demeanor and cryptic words, Enid decided not to dwell too much on it and instead focus on her breathing and all the other not-so-reliable pacifying methods werewolves are taught to use in case of anger fits and abrupt emotional distress.
Count how many damn trees can you see surrounded by a literal fucking forest, Sinclair. Then, start over and repeat until you’ve forgotten all about your violent urges towards the Hyde you skinned a couple of years ago.
-
The live-on music was slowing down by the time Enid made it through the salon’s entrance, and she noticed not without disappointment that a pair of cackling Gomez and Fester were carelessly shoving into Lurch’s arms a myriad of knives, swords, sabers and even a katana while the poor giant struggled to balance all the sharp items with resignation. Oh fantastic, did I miss the Mamushka?
Enid was scanning her surroundings to find any trace of Wednesday when out of nowhere, all the lights changed to a cool, bluish tone. The candle lights. The live-in musicians abandoned the dais to join in on the celebration, and the atmosphere acquired a more modern quality as dark wave started playing from… somewhere? Surely there were speakers everywhere judging by how constant and clear the sound of Out of control by She Wants Revenge was, obviously they were just very well hidden. Surely.
“Oh, Mrs. Addams!” Finally spotting one of the hosts, she approached her with a weird feeling settling at the pit of her stomach, “have you–”
“Oh, hello there, Miss. Welcome to our humble place of rest, I’m Morticia Addams.” A warm, professional smile crept up her red lips. What the… “I apologize, I don’t think I recall your face.”
“Uh… Mrs. Addams? Is everything okay?” At Morticia’s quizzical glance, a few awkward seconds passed by before Enid concluded she could deal with whatever was happening later, “I’m looking for Wednesday, have you seen her? We had kind of an argument and I–”
“Oh, yes. Of course you’re looking for my little storm cloud, you must be an enemy of hers.” The Addams’ matriarch put a hand on the small of Enid’s back, leading her further into the vast throng, “you must forgive her. You see, she prefers to keep to herself in these events. With some luck we’ll find her lurking in the shadows somewhere…”
After maybe three or four right turns and perhaps five or six annoyed grunts from people they pushed aside, Morticia’s aristocratic features lit up as she signaled for a faraway corner, “unbelievable, over there! She’s chosen to torment us with her presence tonight. Why don’t you go to her, darling?” Before Enid could comment on her weirder-than-usual antics, she disappeared inside the crowd, no trace of her being previously right at her side whatsoever. Typical Addams departure.
The blonde turned towards the spot her girlfriend was said to be, and like a sudden cardiac arrest and just as fatal, Wednesday's image knocked the breath right out her lungs. In the short amount of time the werewolf had been outside she must have gotten changed, since her previous long, bodycon black dress and matching onyx jewelry had been replaced with a Victorian-style, also black, tightly corseted dress. All lace and embroidery along the proud chest and narrow shoulders, all delicate trims and waves down the endless ballgown skirt. Completely covered, from the high collar to the frilly cuffs, Enid thought she looked ready to pose for a portrait as a new widow whose husband had tragically died under mysterious circumstances.
Before she could even command her legs to move, they had already taken her halfway there. It was as though a magnetic force was pulling her towards that ethereal sight, and she had zero intentions to resist it. The music blasting through the walls, a crushing feeling inside her chest as every surface and her own frame vibrated along the tune. The seer had her hands elegantly placed on her front, face turned to the side until Enid was a few steps from her and their glances finally collided against each other, like celestial bodies surrounded by immense, devoid space.
“Oh-em-gee.” Was all her melting brain could formulate once she reached Wednesday, hands flying to cover her mouth in wonder. “Baby, you look–”
“Refrain yourself from speaking so casually to me.” Mild annoyance coated her features, leaving the werewolf taken aback yet again.
“What?” Had someone slipped some of Uncle Fester’s medicine in her fruit punch? “Wednesday Friday Addams, what the hell is going on?”
“Albeit I do not appreciate the familiarity of your antics, I see you know my name already, so you must be a special guest in this soirée.”
The gears inside Enid’s head turned and twisted madly, resolved in doing their job for once no matter the pain, until everything finally clicked. Almost in slow motion, a shit-eating grin started tugging at the corners of her lips, and she had to make a tremendous effort not to let it show all the way. She wouldn’t want to ruin the fantasy, she was yearning to see where this would lead them.
“Apologies,” she got closer to the goth’s ear, “I’m a bit out of it tonight. This is my first party.”
“What a woeful coincidence. So it is mine.”
“I was told as much. Any reason you’re out of your den today? Is hibernation over?” Wednesday raised an eyebrow, defiantly.
”Why don’t you get closer to my venomous teeth and find out for yourself, little puppy?”
“I might.” It was getting harder and harder not to let her smile split her face in half, “may I join you here in the meantime?”
“I suppose you may.”
And so, she leaned against the wall beside her, arms barely brushing; she couldn’t stand another minute without at least this bit of closeness, of realness in the middle of the surrealism. Wednesday allowed it, her long, single braid tickling Enid’s bare shoulder, and so the music continued as people flooded the dance floor once more, like marble statues brought to life for one night as the blue light adorned their soulless frames. Enid’s head nodded along to the tune, content humming escaping her lips.
Enid turned towards her, her hot breath mixing with her girlfriend’s cold exhales once she caught her attention. She could close the microscopic distance, plant a blooming kiss to those full, enervating lips, let her hands roam the soft fabric on the back of her funereal dress and, if she had read the room right, enjoy the soft combing of long fingers through her own hair. Nevertheless, four or five or maybe ten or twenty songs later, she could not ignore this nagging feeling any longer, like an itch inside her very bones, one that only Wednesday’s black stiletto nails could scratch.
She grazed the seer’s nose with her own, her words jumbled and out of breath, “may I have a dance?”
“Only one?” Those dark irises again, about to drown her in their endless abyss, “what will happen after that?”
“I’d like another one.” Enid gulped, stepping forward and offering her hand, “and then another one, and another one. I want to have all of your dances until our feet are raw and falling off from our bodies, for they refuse to put up with our madness any longer.”
If she had seen her girlfriend flushed a muted pink before, this pastel scarlet going up to the tips of her ears was an astounding first, as an adorably bashful and rare grin took over her features, dazzling like an exploding supernova and equally blazing. Then, a slender arm reached out to her, granting Enid the honor of walking her to the center of the coincidentally emptying dance floor.
I saw you in a past life
Will I see you in a dream again?
If I held you in the half light
Will you stay with me?
And so they followed the rhythm and sometimes invented their own, twirling and swirling, sometimes pressed flushed against each other, other times at arms length, circling each other like vultures high up in the sky, prowling one another until it was time to launch their deadly attack. Enid was so utterly and completely enthralled by Wednesday’s movements, she wondered if they were part of some ancient enchantment made to bend the subject at one’s will and whim, but deep down she knew her girlfriend didn’t need it. She was already hers to destroy, if she felt like it.
Multicolored claws unsheathed, canine fangs protruding, this exhilarating moment was the embodiment of perfection, Enid had no doubt of it. So what if her first dance had been with Tyler? He could shove that up his decaying ass for all she cared. Enid would have all the others and hopefully, her last, but most of all, she already had Wednesday’s soul wrapped around her own, and not even the devil himself could tear that from her merciless vice-like grip.
Without warning, the werewolf yanked Wednesday closer by the waist, her supple back now pressed against her chest “My love, you look gorgeous.” she whispered into her ear, and could have howled in excitement when she noticed goosebumps rising on her girlfriend’s silky nape.
“How unfortunate. I had been striving for a more ghastly mien instead.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” spinning her around, Wednesday’s fully blushed face centimeters from her own, “you look gorgeous, like a cadaver from a post-mortem photography” Enid let out an amused giggle as the goth quickly buried her face into her chest, the warmth radiating from it enough to be that of a normal human being for once. She would definitely need to thank Mr. Addams for the lessons.
“Thank you for doing this, my love.” Enid murmured against the crown of Wednesday’s head.
“Anything for you, my morning star.” Her words were muffled.
The werewolf carefully dug the goth’s face from her chest, sharp chin between her fingers. She took an offbeat moment to glance into those eyes, desperately trying to scorch this image into her retinae. Then, as Wednesday’s hands were placed on her strong shoulders, she finally closed the distance and kissed her, fiercely, hungrily, with a passion she would only disclose for her.
Enid did not know how much time had passed, as Chronos seemed to have forgotten about them. Deep within her mind though, she relished in the idea that maybe, just maybe, he allowed them to taste immortality for one night, dangling the promise of a poetic end barely out of reach, and she realized she was fine if they were stuck like this, forever, as long as she had Wednesday Addams by her side. If she were to stay within this moonlight coated illusion until the end of times, dancing her heart’s contents out like torn entrails spilling all over the floor, she would gladly keep on inhaling the graveyard soil and beheaded roses perfume her companion chose to wear specially for her, until their very bodies were no more than a memory, consumed by each other.