The ride to Jericho was swift and quick. What usually takes 25 minutes on foot was shorten to a mere 5 by the shuttle. Not that it matters.
"I AM SO EXCITED!" Enid exclaimed as they got off the bus. Gone was the tension earlier, now she's giggling and vibrating at the idea of her first shopping spree with her roommate. "We should hurry! That place usually gets crowded when it's Rave'N season."
Before Wednesday could retort, the werewolf started skipping her way to the store. The town of Jericho isn't very big, coupled with the easily recognizable landmarks, only an idiot without a brain could get lost in a place like this.
It has its own charm, this town. The semi-modern colonial houses, the vintage vibes of the buildings, all of it screamed tradition. Charming, only if the tradition wasn't witch hunts.
Soon, they got to the place. To Wednesday's dread, the shop was as pink as Enid's bag and the dresses were as girly as it could get. "Hawte Kewture — what kind of dystopian hellscape is this?" Wednesday said, her face contorted in disgust. One breath inside and she'd probably die.
"Our first roomie shopping spree!" Enid said, unbothered by her roommate's tone. "The dance committee's suggesting all white to match the theme, but that's not gonna fly with us." She added like some rebel fighting for her freedom, her color freedom.
Wednesday turned to Enid, her excited eyes reflecting on the void of hers. "Well, I have more pressing business than to worry about a dress for a dance I don't even want to attend." Just like that, the excitement in Enid's eyes faded.
"But I thought we were bonding…" Enid replied, sadness emanating in her voice. Wednesday, expressionless as usual, felt an internal conflict brewing inside her. Of course, she'd never admit that. She's Wednesday Addams.
"I feel I'll only slow you down. You're a gazelle. I'm a wounded fawn. Cut me loose and go run with the pack." She replied, turning to a group of girls entering the shop. Enid watched them as well, their excitement infecting her. "Are you sure?"
Wednesday nods and Enid entered without a second thought. 'Like a moth to a flame.' She turned, going to her more 'pressing' issue. The Sheriff.
The place wasn't far off, near the town's square by the hall. Easy enough. Wednesday began walking, around her were people Outcast and not, their chatters filled the air. Some talked about the Rave'N, some talked about other things.
All of a sudden, Wednesday felt something rummaging in her bag. She paused as Thing got out, perching himself on her shoulder. "Are you done brooding now?" She whispered, turning to an alley so they could talk.
Thing gave a series of signs, signs that Wednesday understood clearly. Her mood shifted, her calm eyes turning fierce and irritated. She snatched Thing's body, pressing him to a wall. "You swore loyalty, Thing. That, or imprisonment. You're breaking it over a promise?"
Thing, panicking, signed. Wednesday narrowed her eyes, nodding as she followed. Her grip loosened and the fire in her eyes calmed themselves. "He asked about the rest of your body, and then who made you. That's it?" Thing nodded fiercely as Wednesday iterated what he said.
He let his guard down, thinking that's the end of it when suddenly, Wednesday's grip started getting stronger again. How is she this strong with these little arms?! Thing felt her vice grip in his whole body, or hand? It hurts!
Wednesday stared, her eyes calm despite her actions which seems to terrify Thing more. Slowly, she spoke. "You're on strike one, Thing. I'm letting this one slide because you're useful. I dare you to do this again… there will be no strike two."
"I could smell your lie from a hundred miles away, Thing. Never cross me again." Wednesday placed him on her shoulder again before getting out of the alley, expressionless as if nothing happened. Thing was… shook. But he survived, that's what matters! If he could, he'd take a big breath right now.
Passing by so many people, it'd make you wonder how no one's stopped to point out a severed hand on Wednesday's shoulder. Well, her goth aesthetic makes it seem like a fashion choice. Except the hand moves on its own, it could just be some kind of machine, right?
Wednesday's peripheral could see Thing's finger at something to her left. "I'm going to see Galpin. I'm not stop—" her irritated voice went silent. Behind the glass window of Uriah's Heap was a dress, off-shoulder layered with a skirt. The asymmetrical texture, the gothic elegance, it looked anachronistic yet old at the same time. It's… beautiful, even for her.
The door chimed open and out comes her biggest adversary after the monster and Weems — Dr. Valerie Kinbott, her therapist. "Hey, Wednesday." She said, her cheerful tone sounding obnoxious in Wednesday's ears.
Dr. Kinbott turned to the display. "That dress will certainly turn some heads." Wednesday paused, caught by her unexpected arrival. "Are you collecting more exotic trinkets for your office?"
"Those are souvenirs from my travels. That's how I step outside of my comfort zone." She replied, her tone hinting some defense in her peculiar hobbies. "Speaking of which, are you going to the Rave'N this weekend?"
"I'm not required to answer your questions out in the wild, am I?" Wednesday replied sharply, already annoyed by her blatant therapy-ing. Dr. Kinbott pressed her lips together, unable to pierce through Wednesday's uncanny emotions. "I look forward to talking all about it at our next session."
Taking that as goodbye, Wednesday left without turning back. This time, she won't pause for some dress.
—-
"We both know that there's a monster out there. If we're going to stop it, I think it's time we put our differences aside and work together."
The sheriff looked at the drawings incredulously, a mix of disbelief and humor in his eyes as he listened to Wednesday. "And this is your stake for me to deal you in?" He pulled a photo out, the one taken from the camera of the latest corpse found in the forest.
The sheriff sighed, seeing the similarity in the 'monster' of this girl's drawings and his. Still, he's not going to include a high school girl in a murder case. "I'm sorry, you gotta do better than that. You got some nice detail though."
"I didn't draw it." Wednesday replied. "Then I need to know who did." The sheriff retorted.
"Unless we're exchanging intel, I'm not at liberty to say." Wednesday's eyes met the sheriff's, unrelenting. Galpin leaned back to his chair, tired and cornered. "Why would I share information about an ongoing murder investigation with a high school kid?"
"Because I go to Nevermore and you don't." Wednesday replied, her tone intense. "Don't you want some eyes and ears behind those ivy-colored walls?"
"Listen, Velma, why don't you and the Scooby gang stick to your homework and leave the investigating to the professionals?" He answered with ridicule. Wednesday's tried her best not to lash-out, gripping her sleeves tighter than usual.
The telecom rang and the sheriff answered as Wednesday turned to leave. Half-way out the door, sheriff Galpin called her. "Hey, Addams. Let me see that sketch again."
Wednesday handed the paper, a sense of victory radiating inside her. "The person who drew this, that your suspect?" She replied with a nod.
"When you bring me some concrete evidence, maybe we'll talk."
'Good.' Wednesday thought. While she's not usually fond of working with law enforcements, the sheer magnitude of this case requires professional assistance. Hopefully, they don't find out about her endeavors with her uncle Fester.
—-
The forest around Nevermore possesses a certain calling for those that seeks to explore the unknown. The lush green, the fresh soil, the sound of the rivers and the fornication of insects — Adam could hear it, could sense it.
The sound of leaves as they clash with the howling air, the flap of birds, of insects as they soar the skies and heavens. His first time here marked his awakening, perhaps it contains clues of his making.
He is here in hope. Hope. Such fragile little word, yet possesses unimaginable power, sustaining the dying and the weak. The hope that burned like a pyre earlier, now reduced to a spark.
"And God said, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth," how arrogant, how condescending." Adam whispered.
His hands grazed upon the trees, feeling the roughness of their barks against the roughness of his scars. Do trees fear the winter? The cold that threatens with death, with wither. Do trees fear the solitude? The quiet silence, the nights where only they exist.
Perhaps, in their unspoken existence, they have learned discipline. The dance of restraint, to quiet their hunger for affection from the earth that's cold and dry. In remaining where there is no witnesses to see, no kin to celebrate. Because they know that one day, the sun will rise — indifferent yet kind. The ice on their leaves will melt, and they will feel warmth once more.
'There is so much more to learn from nature. God's art.' Adam placed his head against a tall tree, old and rough. 'It is hubris to believe that men, in their flaws and imperfection, were made in the image of the divine, when you exist.'
He lets go, continuing his walk. He could feel the wet soil the sole of his feet digs into, the blades of grass as he pass by them. He could feel the earth's embrace in silence.
It was raining, cold and wet, when he was first found. Now, the sun is up high and only the winter breeze fills the air. Sometimes, he swears, he could hear the whisper of trees as wind passes by.
Adam wandered deeper into the forest, the sounds threading through the branches like an ancient hymn. His shoes pressed into the cold earth, damp with the memory of rain, and he felt every pulse of life beneath the soil. The sensation was grounding, almost maternal.
The trees had no arrogance. They stretched toward the sun because it was the only answer that had ever existed, and they asked for nothing in return except time and patience. Adam envied them—their persistence, their quiet endurance in the face of storms.
From behind him, Adam heard the snap of a branch, and a footstep that's not his. He turned to see, expecting a man, a hunter perhaps or a lumberjack, only to reveal it's… a fawn. Staring at him with its round, innocent eyes.
It stepped closer, curious and courageous. Adam watched as it approached him, unsure of what to do. He has… never seen one before. Only read of them, heard of them. The forest truly held mysteries.
The fawn was closed enough to Adam at an arm's length. So, akin to a child, he gave it his hand. He placed his palm below the fawn's head, letting it lean closer, to make it feel safe. It licked him, Adam felt its warmth. He did, for the first time, he felt warmth from a life that is not human.
Life that is kind, primal, but life nonetheless. He reached for a berry, snapping it from a bush and he fed it to the fawn. It ate it, and watched as Adam plucked some more.
For a moment, there was peace. No desperation, no sorrow. Only him and this creature of land, feeding on berries that nature procured. But alas, peace does not last. Soon, the fawn stopped eating, it nuzzled itself to Adam's hand, then it ran. But not before giving him one last look. A look that, to Adam's eyes, were of gratitude.
"Run free, little fawn." He whispered softly, letting the wind carry his words.
—-
At the same time, somewhere in the forest as well, is Wednesday Addams and Eugene Ottinger. In front of a giant cave that looks to be the home of a bear, or some other cave-living beast.
"It's definitely a match. What were you doing out here?" Wednesday asked Eugene, eyes still locked to the cave's entrance. "Collecting specimens. This place is ground zero for horny gypsy moths." Eugene paused, gulping in fear. "You think it's in there?"
"Only one way to find out." Without waiting for Eugene, Wednesday began walking closer to the cave, alert to any movement around her.
The cave entrance looked big enough to fit that monster that's terrorizing Jericho, if her memory is anything to go by. Which usually, it is. "I'm not a huge fan of enclosed spaces. I'm claustrophobic." Eugene said from beside her, his voice tinge in fear.
Wednesday turned to her club president. "If you hear me screaming bloody murder, there's a good chance I'm just enjoying myself." Wednesday went in, unafraid of whatever is inside. Eugene recited the hive code in his head, trying to find the courage to follow inside.
The cave was quite deep. Large enough for the monster to rest and recover. The ground was littered with bones. Animals. "This is definitely its lair."
"Are these human bones?" Eugene asked nervously. Wednesday crouched down, picking up a deer skull, "No. It's got a taste for venison."
Eugene went further, shining light on the wall filled with scratches and claw marks. Stuck in the center were a pair of metal cuffs, rusting, human size. Wednesday crouched beside it, stuck on the wall was a claw. "Yahtzee."
Eugene, snapping out of his trance, saw what Wednesday found. "What is that?" He asked. "Concrete proof." Wednesday replied.
Physical proof that could be cross-referenced. Now, she just needs something with Xavier's DNA.
—-
"… make sure there's no squatters." The sheriff brought the telephone down, not because the conversation's over, but because this Addams girl is here to pester him again.
Wednesday slammed the evidence bag on the table. One containing a bloody towel from Xavier's shed, and the other, the claw that they found. She may or may not have been caught obtaining the former, it's still a win. She got out of the date and still got the evidence.
Sheriff Galpin stared at the two bags the girl placed on his table. "That's the claw of the monster and that's a dried blood sample from a potential suspect."
"He used it to dab scratches on his neck. Run the DNA test to see if they match." Wednesday said demandingly. The sheriff stared at her blankly. "Sorry, do I work for you?"
"You asked for concrete evidence. That's it." Wednesday paused, "and technically, you do."
The sheriff clicked his tongue, reaching for the claw. "Where'd you get this?" He asked, "And who's the suspect?"
"Run the test first." Wednesday retorted. The sheriff looked at her annoyed. "I'm not playing gamed, Addams." Wednesday met his gaze. "Neither am I, sheriff."
Sheriff Galpin, seeing her not budging, relented. He reached out for the telecom connected to his assistant. "Bernice, bring me a DNA authorization form, please."
Wednesday watched, her face twitching, a smirk threatening to appear in her face. Winning a Poe Cup? That felt good, but one-upping law enforcements felt infinitely better, especially this one.
Soon as the sheriff finished talking, he looked back at her, defeated. "The hell are you still doing here?" He asked, seeing Wednesday still in front of him. "I did what you asked. Go home, kid."
Wednesday, unbothered by his hostility, spoke. "As compensation, I want you to tell me about that student you found in the forest the night Rowan died."
The sheriff scoffed. "Compensation? You haven't proven anything yet." He paused, realizing what she said. "And who the hell told you about that?"
Wednesday kept quiet, giving the sheriff an eery stare. After putting two and two together, sheriff Galpin slammed his fist on his table. "Did Tyler told you?" He asked, anger laced his tone, he received no answer from the girl. "That kid… God damnit…"
Sheriff Galpin sighed, leaning back on his chair. "That's classified information, kid. Your principal didn't want any more scandal after that… fiasco you pulled."
Wednesday tilted her head. "Then how did Tyler know? I'm sure you know what classified means, right, sheriff?" Sheriff Galpin pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "Are you blackmailing me, Addams?"
Wednesday remained still, like a predator waiting for the first twitch of fear in its prey. "My, how could I do such a thing?"
The sheriff's jaw tightened. Wednesday's tone promised more. If this gets out, the only one in trouble would be him. "The kid was… tall. Pale, paler than you. When we found him, he looked dead…" He paused, recalling the memory deep inside his mind, "no, I'm pretty sure he was dead… except he wasn't. Grabbed my hand like some horror movie jump-scare then passed out again."
"Tall and pale isn't exactly the best description. Tell me what he looked like." Wednesday demanded, tone sharp, her interest reaching its peak.
Sheriff Galpin crunched his forehead. "Can't remember much else 'bout what he looked like. I just remember him having… scars, all over his body. Even his face."
Wednesday listened earnestly, noting everything he said. He sighed, giving up. "We were having a drink at some bar before you went around screaming murder."
Her face turned into a frown, deeper than her usual scowl. 'Not enough. But, everything points to him, Adam Cain.' Wednesday turned, ready to leave. She's got all the information she could get.
"Addams." The sheriff called out, Wednesday turned her head slightly. "Classified information, got it?" He said. She nodded, hearing him whisper to himself as she walked out. "Damnit, I should stop drinking these days…"
'Adam Cain, hiding his scars behind a mask?' Wednesday recalled their interactions, his self-assured tone, his confident and mysterious stride. 'No. It's definitely not as simple as that.'
A masked man, hiding behind a curtain of cloth and leather, because of scars he's afraid others will see. It sounds plausible, but something inside her is telling her to look deeper, further. Nothing in this world is as simple as it seems. If they won't give her the answers, she just has to look for it herself.
—-