Chapter 28: Halloween Traditions
Halloween at Nevermore felt like stepping into a fever dream where supernatural teenagers competed to out-macabre each other through increasingly elaborate decorative displays. The annual tradition had evolved beyond simple costume parties into full-scale artistic warfare between the various outcast factions.
Supernatural pissing contest disguised as holiday celebration.
Enid volunteered my services without asking, leveraging our relationship for manual labor with the shameless efficiency of someone who'd learned to maximize boyfriend utility.
"You're helping with decorations," she announced over breakfast. "Your shadow thing will be perfect for spooky ambiance."
Conscripted. Completely conscripted.
"I don't do ambiance."
"You do now, shadow wizard."
Resistance is futile when facing werewolf determination.
The great hall had been transformed into something between haunted mansion and art gallery. I discovered my shadow manipulation could create animated silhouettes on walls—crawling spiders that responded to movement, flying bats that circled overhead, creeping darkness that shifted based on observer attention.
Creative applications. Never considered artistic use.
The effect was genuinely impressive, drawing students who'd previously barely noticed me. My shadows moved with unconscious grace, extending and contracting like breathing made visible, creating atmosphere that felt both beautiful and unsettling.
Xavier approached with professional appreciation: "Your shadow work has artistic quality. Ever considered creative applications beyond tactical use?"
Art versus combat. Interesting distinction.
My whispered response came out rougher than intended: "Too busy using it for not dying."
Wednesday overheard and almost smiled—high praise from someone whose emotional range typically peaked at amused disdain.
Eugene documented everything with scientific enthusiasm, probably imagining tactical applications for animated shadows in future Defense Initiative exercises.
Always thinking strategically. Eugene's leadership development showing.
Enid looked proud in a way that made something warm unfurl in my chest. When she introduced me to other Furs as "my boyfriend, he's basically a shadow wizard," I experienced the unfamiliar sensation of being publicly claimed.
Relationship acknowledgment. Official relationship acknowledgment.
Terrifying and gratifying in equal measure.
Wednesday revealed unexpected enthusiasm for Halloween—apparently the one holiday the Addams family celebrated without ironic detachment. She organized a murder mystery dinner that achieved unsettling realism through attention to detail that suggested disturbing personal experience.
Fake blood that might not be entirely fake.
"Participation is mandatory," she announced. "This is Wednesday being almost happy. We have to encourage this," Eugene whispered with missionary zeal.
Social obligation disguised as friendship support.
I participated despite instinctive social discomfort, discovering I was decent at deductive reasoning when the stakes were purely hypothetical. Wednesday, Eugene, and I solved the mystery in twenty minutes through systematic elimination of suspects and motives.
Tactical thinking applied to entertainment. Natural extension.
Enid staged a dramatic death scene that belonged in professional theater, and I realized my girlfriend was a genuinely talented actress when she chose to be. The performance was convincing enough that several students checked to make sure she was actually breathing.
Hidden depths. Everyone has hidden depths.
Wednesday gifted me a genuine compliment: "Your investigative instincts are satisfactory."
Highest praise possible from Wednesday Addams.
Eugene whispered conspiratorially: "She likes you. That's the Wednesday equivalent of a hug."
Found family acceptance. Official found family acceptance.
The evening's pivotal moment came when a senior werewolf made disparaging comments about Eugene's "useless" bee powers versus "real" predator abilities. My shadows coiled defensively, ready to provide tactical support, but Eugene stepped forward with quiet confidence I'd never seen from him.
Character growth. Real character growth.
"My bee communication saved Aron's life last year when they warned me about approaching danger," Eugene said with steel in his voice. "My organizational skills run the Defense Initiative that's teaching you tactical awareness. And I survived the Hyde because I refused to be helpless."
Truth. Complete truth delivered with authority.
"What have you done besides inherit your parents' teeth?"
Devastating comeback. Eugene's social development exceeding expectations.
The senior backed down, embarrassed by the public intellectual defeat. I watched my best friend stand up for himself without backup for the first time, feeling pride so fierce it was almost physically painful.
Eugene becoming the leader he was always meant to be.
Later, he admitted: "Nearly dying changed something. I'm tired of being afraid of things that don't matter."
My whispered response felt like revelation: "You were never afraid of the things that matter. You just learned to stop being afraid of things that don't."
Truth about courage. Courage isn't absence of fear.
The evening ended with our core group on the roof, watching students celebrate below while processing how much had changed since the previous year.
"Last year at this time, we were investigating Rowan's death," Wednesday observed with clinical precision. "This year we're eating candy and pretending normalcy exists."
Time passage. Relationship development. Survival.
Eugene added philosophical wisdom: "Sometimes pretending is how we survive until things get better."
Coping mechanism. Healthy coping mechanism.
Enid leaned into my side with comfortable intimacy: "Or maybe things are actually better. We're together, we're prepared, and we have each other."
Hope. Genuine hope about the future.
My shadows curled around all four of us protectively—unconscious gesture that encompassed my entire found family. Wednesday didn't protest the shadow contact, and that might have been the biggest evidence that fundamental things had changed.
Acceptance. Wednesday accepting physical comfort.
Found family evolution complete.
In her office, Crane watched monitors showing the four of us together, making notes in her journal with expression that could be protective or calculating. Her final entry was single word that carried weight of prophecy: "Accelerating."
Whatever's coming is approaching faster.
At least we'll face it as family.
Chosen family forged through repeated mutual salvation.
Strong enough to survive anything.
Probably.
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