Magic At Nevermore

Wednesday picked at her fruit cup, absentmindedly discarding the colourful pieces.

She never understood the hate for Mondays. To her, It was just another day of the week. Like Saturdays and Thursdays. But right now, cooped up in the dining hall on this disorientingly sunny morning, she couldn't help but despise it.

There were plenty of other things she'd rather be doing now than attend classes. Like looking over her mountain of case files or finally sniffing out this insufferable stalker. But instead, she was squished between an offensively talkative Caspian and a groggy Xavier.

She glanced at Thing, who was filing one of his nails at the head of the table.

Her helping hand made a full recovery. She made sure of it, running him through a rigorous physical that took a whole afternoon. Even the slightest twitch and Wednesday would have bedridden him for another week. The first task she gave him — much to both their dismays — was to trail her number one suspect.

Enid Sinclair.

She recalled the way Enid had to 'leave for club reasons' while they were at Uriah's heap. Her unaccounted-for absence and accompanying photo did nothing for the girl's case. Xavier was ruled out and so was Bianca. Plus the fact that there were very few Nevermore students at the scene narrowed it down to her.

Though, sending the message as she sat directly across from her was a very gutsy move. Even by Wednesday's standards. Perhaps she was getting cocky? But that wasn't the Enid she knew.

If Wednesday was being honest, even though all signs point to her, she was having second thoughts. The patterns and timing matched Enid's, but the behaviour didn't. Wednesday wasn't able to perform a psychoanalysis on the girl, but she doesn't think she was some schizophrenic psychopath with an unhealthy obsession with her.

Then again, that's exactly what a schizophrenic psychopath would want her to think.

“What's wrong Wenya?” Enid blinked her wide eyes, looking up from the unfunny video Ajax was undoubtedly forcing upon her. “You've been staring at me for like…2 minutes now?”

Wednesday straightened up. “It's nothing…”

Even if she didn't fully believe Enid to be her stalker, she was the only lead she had. If Wednesday wanted to start from scratch, she'd need to make sure her old theory was exhausted first. Leaving no stone unturned. Every excruciating detail.

That's why it was pertinent that Thing never let Enid out of his sight. The sooner she can prove her innocence, the faster she can find the real stalker.

Wednesday inspected her cup meticulously, making sure all that was left were blackberries and dark grapes. She stabbed at one, forking it in her mouth gently. Some might savour the tart sweetness of the fruit.

She couldn't care less.

“Do you only eat blackberries?”

Wednesday frowned, turning to the source of the muttered question.

Caspian wore a bandage across his nose and over his split lip. His black eye was now a faint purple. His face was still oddly coloured in some spots and a bit swollen, but it was better. Perhaps a few magical aids were to be thanked?

His busted face from yesterday was halfway healed thanks to Abner's patented pastes. From the sounds coming out of the infirmary, Weems nearly chewed his head off for the infraction. When it came time to discipline her, however, Wednesday just got a disapproving headshake from the principal.

She can't have a tarnished reputation if it was already tarnished to begin with. But for fresh-faced Caspian? The same cannot be said.

Wednesday almost pitied the boy. Almost. Until she remembered just how punchable his face was and how easy he got under one's skin. She semi-understood where the normies were coming from. She didn't agree but understood.

“Why does it matter?” She asked genuinely curious. He's said a lot of head-scratching things before, but this was extremely arbitrary. Even for him.

“I-I just…” He suddenly started fumbling over his own words, darting his eye around. “I noticed you…that you kinda…”

Wednesday stared at him blankly. She 'kind of' what?

“Nevermind…” He sighed running a hand through his hair, offering up a half smile. “Are you gonna finish that?”

She blinked, waiting a second before sliding the discarded pile his way. Wednesday watched him wolf down the fruit, eyeing the banana slice with particular disdain before eating that too.

She turned away.

Like she said, head-scratching.

“So you and Caspian huh?”

Wednesday nearly poked a hole through the sheet with her pen.

She was foolish for thinking she could actually catch a break for once. Getting partnered with Bianca Barclay ensured she would finish the in-class Latin translation assignment early. Granting her extra time for more pressing matters. Bianca was insufferably popular and outgoing, but in the classroom, she was a no-nonsense grades first girl.

Or so Wednesday thought.

“I'm just saying…” Bianca pressed her lips smugly. “The way you rushed to his aid yesterday was kinda goals.”

Wednesday's eye twitched. “Were you lobotomized without my knowledge?”

“Don't blow up over me! I can't help being the only person with the guts to say anything.” Bianca dismissed her with a lazy wave. “Everyone notices how you guys hang around each other more.”

Wednesday looked at her page alarmed, focusing on the inkblot emanating from her pen tip. Her and Caspian? There was barely her and anyone, more or less him.

“I…” Wednesday frowned. “don't understand?”

“C'mon,” Bianca gestured. “You can't possibly be this ignorant to gossip.”

At her continued glare, Bianca shook her head.

“You guys are everyones number one ship!”

Wednesday's brows shot up. Ship?

“Ship? What's a-" At Bianca's Cheshire grin, Wednesday backtracked stiffly. “Forget I asked.”

She went back to her paper, “Nothing is going on between me and…He's Xavier's roommate and I treat him as such. I have more rapport with a toadstool and more in common with a Canadian goose than I do with him.”

Try as she might to focus on translating nouns, Wednesday's mind stayed on the absurd revelation. It certainly didn't help that Bianca continued to gaze at her 'knowingly'.

Like there was anything to know.

She was lying just a tad. She did want to be his friend and went to extreme lengths without even knowing. And she supposes they were friends now (Which is still very much strange for her). So there had to be some base level of 'draw'. But she would have never admitted it. Especially now. Since it could easily be interpreted as something entirely different.

“Girl, this is the worst case of denialism I've ever seen. Next only to…well,” Bianca laughed breathily. “Caspian.”

“Well, there's nothing to notice.” Wednesday clipped, scribbling the Latin translation for 'gnat' more aggressively than necessary. “He is the most obnoxious, annoying, arrogant, person I ever had the displeasure of interacting with.”

“You say that but your actions say another thing.”

“Watch it, Bianca.”

“It's okay to feel confused you can talk to me. You probably never felt this way about anyone before given not just anyone could survive your attitude and-”

“I said,” Wednesday hissed slowly. “Watch it.”

Bianca leaned back, finally turning back to her paper. “Guys like Caspian find it hard to stay single.” she shrugged. “For better…or for worse.”

“Like I care about that.”

Wednesday finally got her silence, though it did nothing to help.

She didn't know why she was suddenly worked up. It was just an idiotic rumour. Nothing but words in the wind. She could honestly say she couldn't care what anyone else thought. So why did she just turn the page when she wasn't done that side yet?

“So…” Bianca began casually. “About the pool thing on break…”

“Do I need to go to this party to join the Nighshades?” Wednesday drawled monotonously, relieved her voice didn't betray her.

“Absolutely!” Bianca suddenly perked up. “You already bought the bathing suit!”

“How do you know I didn't burn it yet?”

“The fact you even asked in the first place tells me you're going.”

Wednesday noted Bianca's toothy smile and upbeat disposition.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes.“You seem oddly chipper about it. I thought you guys went on these 'exciting outings' every other day?”

“March break has a way of.. how shall put it.” Bianca hummed, finishing an inscription with a flourish of her pen. “Releasing the wild side in you, revealing who you truly are…your deepest desires. What happens in the Nightshades, stays in the Nightshades.”

“Sounds cultish.”

“It is not a cult.” Bianca bristled through tight lips.

Wednesday paused, sending Bianca a surprised sideways glance. Her sudden vehement response was unexpected.

“Don't tell me,” Wednesday mocked tonelessly. “There's refreshment upon signing up? Right beside the drop box for the downpayment-sized deposit for entry?”

Bianca cringed, locking her jaw. It looked like she took in three calming breaths before turning back to her.

“I wouldn't discard the powers of March break so flippantly,” she smiled bitterly though it wasn't as easy as before. “Might awaken some suppressed…desires.”

They glared at each other. Neither one backing down. Bianca was a begrudgingly worthy opponent on and off the piste.

Wednesday was the first to break off, hunching over her notes. She had to remember, there were more pressing matters at hand. “Another word and I'll dip my tournament foil in dart frog secretion.”

“You and Yoko get along well.”

“Huh?” Caspian squinted up at her through foggy goggles.

He had one hand on a nearby stool, the other, deep in the gaping mouth of the largest carnivorous plants she's ever seen. It was nearly as tall as her.

It was lab day in Botany and fortunately, they were able to choose their partners. Unfortunately, Caspian was the only real candidate.

She didn't know anyone else in that class besides Bianca who was already taken. And by his disheartened glance around, she deduced he didn't either.

So when it came time, they gave each other a look and just…scooted their seats closer.

“I said you-”

“I heard you the first time,” Caspian grunted, making an odd face as he plunged his arm deeper. “I just would like to know why it matters to you.”

“I just stated a fact.”

“And you just so happened to state this 'fact' while I'm armed deep in this Giganto-faunicious Nepenthes?” He grimaced warily. “When you could simply let go and let those razor-sharp needles sting me?”

“Huh,” Wednesday glanced down at her hands keeping the plant's 'mouth' open. “I never even noticed.”

“Aloof doesn't look good on you.” Caspian clipped poignantly. “You're capable of many things but feigning ignorance is decidedly not one of them.”

“Shouldn't be a problem…unless,” Wednesday arched a brow. “There is more to say.”

“If you're referring to us at archery which is - mind you- the only time we actually spoke beyond a few words…she was telling me about this pool party event.”

She paused. “You're invited too?”

Wednesday almost let her grip slip unironically.

“Ohhhh! That's why you needed bloody swimsuits!” Caspian lolled his head back with a disbelieving groan. “I'd smack my forehead right now if I could.”

“I could if you want me-”

“Don't….” he scowled lightly, refocusing his attention on reaching the pit of the plant's 'stomach'.

Wednesday bit her lip. She supposes it made sense he was offered a spot. He was a mainstay in their friend group. It never occurred to her that he would also be attending. She decided it didn't really change her feelings about the club or the outing. It was still as idiotically half-witted as before. His inclusion would make it more hazardous if anything.

“So you're also going…” She confirmed to no one in particular. She played around with the idea of them all splashing about in a pool.

It absolutely horrified her.

“Well I'm not gonna turn it down…it seemed wicked fun,” He strained, putting his whole shoulder in the plant's mouth. “Problem with my involvement Addams?”

Wednesday thought about it for a second. “You're presence is of no effect to me since you'll have plenty of others to badger.”

Caspian slowly withdrew his arm, which was now coated in a thick syrupy substance that smelt oddly nostalgic. Rotting rodent. Wednesday gently released the plant, watching it instantly clamp shut like a clam.

“Yuck…” His face twisted in disgust, shaking off the digestive fluids. “I got two seeds sacks.”

Wednesday pursed her lips. “They usually carry three.”

“Well, by all means,” He gestured tiredly, dropping the fleshy seeds on a metal tray. “Have at it.”

She pouted, alternating her eyes from the worksheet, the cocky boy, and the plant. Two seeds were not uncommon in this genome, but judging by its size it should have at least three.

But when Wednesday caught sight of Caspian's satisfied smirk, she knew what she had to do.

“As a matter of fact,” Wednesday adjusted her own arm-length glove, shoving the paper to his chest. “I will.”

She waited patiently for him to shake from his stupor to pry the poor plant's mouth open one last time. Without hesitation, she delved her arm into the mushy cavern.

Not even a second later, Caspian piped up conversationally.

“Since we're asking questions…what's in Uriah's heap?”

Wednesday flashed her eyes up, realizing his grip on the mouth was half as secure as it should be.

He grinned, tapping a finger on a pointy needle. “I can be perceptive too you know?”

“I never planned to keep it a secret,” She huffed, standing on her tippy toes to get a better angle. “You'll just have to wait for after classes today. During our study time.”

“C'mon,” He scoffed. “You really think I'll fall for the old 'I'll tell you later' trick? Spill it or the mouths coming down.”

“I can't speak of it here.” Wednesday ground out, darting her eyes around superstitiously. “Too many ears.”

Caspian did nothing to hide his disappointed sigh, even hunching his shoulders. But something flashed across his face. She watched in real-time as his smile morphed into a menacingly mischievous smirk.

Her eyes widened. “You wouldn't dare.”

He kissed his teeth. Scrunched his nose. Then winked right before ripping his hands away.

Wednesday jumped a few feet in the air, wrenching her arm free with lightning speed. Even after all that, the stinging teeth still nipped at her fingers.

The stool she was standing on toppled over as she stumbled back. She was panting from the short burst of adrenaline, staring daggers at the cackling boy. Maybe a few real ones would remind him who he was dealing with.

“Is everything alright?”

Caspian cleared his throat, straightening up into a mockery of a completely mature student. “Yes Professor…Unfortunately so…”

Wednesday's nostrils flared.

She marched right up to him until she was practically at his nose. In reality, she was facing his chest. He smelt mostly of Giganto-faunicious Nepenthes fluid, but there was a faint sea-salt musk that most definitely didn't come from the plant.

“I'd say I dared alright.” Caspian fought back a snicker, not even bothering to move.

Wednesday glared up at his twinkling eyes for a while. Eyes she could always rely on to see what he was really thinking. Sometimes they were too honest for her liking. Like right now for instance. He was unashamedly enjoying this.

Wednesday locked her jaw, gazing a bit longer at him before finally speaking. “You were wrong.”

Caspian's smile faltered. “I beg your pardon?”

She brought her fisted hand up to his nose, unable to keep the grin from forming. “There were three seed sacks.”

Wednesday had to cut lunch short due to her unexpectedly long Hummer meeting. There was apparently a lot that went into harkening in a new season. She had to find a way to squeeze in double her workload at the club.

But all that to say, it caused her to experience something she'd never experienced before.

“You were late to class today.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, sending a quick jab the Gorgon's way. “Thank you, Ajax for regurgitating the obvious.”

“Any time!” He chirped back.

The pairs were randomized today and she somehow got Ajax. It dawned on her that she never actually spoke to him. Outside of one-off comments that is. She doesn't feel the need to rectify it though. There was nothing the Gorgon could offer her beyond movie trivia and ill-informed opinions.

Wednesday easily parried his right attack, landing a hit on his shoulder.

Her touch.

On her way back to the end of the piste, Wednesday couldn't help but let her eyes wander.

She made out a lazing Enid with who she thinks is Divina. She rolled her eyes when they scrambled to make themselves look busy just as Coach Vlad materialized behind them.

Bianca was a good distance away, duelling another student with unmatched veracity.

She danced her eyes until she latched onto a particular pair of students.

Kent was an alright duelist, but he was more cut from the Enid cloth than the Bianca one. However, it was his partner that piqued her interest.

Wednesday raised a curious brow.

Caspian was in what she can only describe as a stereotypical fencing pose. Hand stubbornly on one hip and back so straight it almost curved.

“En guard!”

Ajax slashed at her shins which she merely hopped over, poking him in the rib.

She returned her attention back.

It looked like he got all his practice from still images. His stance was stiff and awkward, his slashing had no rhyme or rhythm to it. It was nearly laughable.

And yet, she just watched him steal a touch on Kent.

“En guard!”

Wednesday beat Ajax's sabre easily, slashing him in the forearm.

She looked back.

It would seem Caspian has been practicing. Last she checked he wasn't on Hamlet Hall's tournament team.

Even though it was still painfully clear he was a novice, she could at least say his footwork had improved. It was the only non-stiff thing about him. It was unconventional, yet he moved with such confidence and fluidity. Like he's been doing it for years. Perhaps this has something to do with the wizard duelling he talks about.

“Why do you keep looking over there?”

Wednesday tore her eyes away. “You're of no competition. I can't help if my mind wanders.”

“Uh huh…” Ajax titled his masked head, skepticism dripping from his voice.

She watched as he wordlessly turned to look at Caspian, then back at her, then back at Caspian.

Wednesday crouched in a low stance. “En..guard…” She ground out

“What! I didn't say anything!” Ajax threw his hands up desperately. “Look wasn't it like last week that you guys barely spoke to each other and now you're suddenly best of bud sue me for being a little curious.-”

“I can do more than sue.” Wednesday hissed.

She ran directly at him.

Ajax dropped his sabre with a blood-curdling scream. “Wait Wednesday no!”

The whistle blew. “Alright, guys take 15!”

The Gorgon didn't even wait for Coach Vlad to finish, sprinting for the safety of the boy's change room.

Wednesday took off her mask, patting down the damp strands of hair that somehow managed to escape their braids. Knowing Ajax he'd probably beg to switch partners with whoever was on the opposite end of the room. And knowing him, he'd probably succeed. Aajx had a certain charisma about him. Like that of a dopey canine that one couldn't help but pity. Luckily for Wednesday, she didn't much care for hounds.

She sighed, unscrewing her empty bottle as she got in line at the fountain. If Ajax of all people sensed this 'shift' in their social dynamics, then everyone else must've. It'll only bother her if people continue to waltz up to her to talk about it.

“How was Hummers?” She turned over her shoulder to find a slightly pink Xavier waltzing up to her, brown hair tied up in a bun.

“Acceptably interesting.” She decided on, wiping her brow.

They waited in silence for a bit until he spoke up again. “I looked at the times that the fencing hall's available, no surprise it's completely booked till the tourney.”

“Shame.” She droned, inspecting her nails.

The line shifted forward one space.

“So it's pretty nice that I have a place of my own that doesn't need to be booked…and is available anytime…Right?”

Wednesday fluttered her eyes. She almost regrets accepting his invitation. “Next Friday afternoon. That's the earliest possible time I can give you.”

“Next Friday it is,” he clasped his hands behind his back. “There's this thing I always wanted to try…what was it…Taxidermy?”

This made her spin around, her brow arched well beyond her bangs.

“You…” Wednesday looked the slender boy up and down, completely unconvinced. “You want to attempt taxidermy?”

“Yeah I mean,” Xavier shrugged. “Looks cool don't you think? Do you know anything of it?”

Wednesday paused, narrowing her eyes. “It's one of my electives.”

“Oh perfect!” His olive eyes brightened. “How bout you teach me after we practice fencing?”

Something told Wednesday he already knew about her Tuesday class, but she chose to ignore it. “I doubt you have the stomach required.”

“Well as I always say, don't knock it till you try it.”

“You never say that.”

“Well, I can start.” He cracked a lopsided grin.

Wednesday gave him one last look before reaching the fountain. “Suit yourself.”

Taxidermy free from Mr. Peter's prying gaze and rules could be worth her while. It's been some time since she actually gave it a proper go. And if Xavier thinks his artistry could translate from the canvas to roadkill, who was she to stop him?

“By the way…” Xavier noted half-heartedly. “You were late to class today.”

“Alright,” Caspian collapsed on the bean bag chair, polishing off his protein drink. “Spill it. What's in Uriah's heap?”

Wednesday looked down at him disdainfully. She played with the idea of scrapping Mondays entirely as a dedicated study period. His workouts tended to drag out longer by the week.

“It wasn't what.” Wednesday exhaled patiently, crossing her legs. “It was who.”

~~~

“Why do I need to come along again?”

“Because I know you detest this place and you made me wear deeming outfit after deeming outfit.”

“C'mon you secretly enjoyed-”

“No.” Wednesday cut in briskly, stopping directly in front of the girl to get her point across. “I did not.”

Enid scrunched her nose, side-stepping Wednesday and her death glare. “Well, I think the swimming suit we chose for you is drop-dead GORGEROUS. It totes fits your whole vintage vibe and love for all things monochrome.”

“If it was truly old fashion, it'd come with a 1920s full-face swimming mask.”

“Huh?” Enid blinked.

Wednesday sighed, holding the door open for the hapless girl. “Search it up.”

The first thing that hit her was the distinct musk of gamey meat and potent pickle. Formaldehyde. She couldn't help but smile slightly.

The shop was chaotic yet organized. Every inch of the peeling dark green wallpaper was covered with eclectic decorations. Paintings and portraits of nameless figures. Rusting mantels and scratched mirrors. Cuckoo clocks and timepieces that looked long past their expiry dates yet still somehow ticked on.

She noticed Enid switched from breathing through her nose to her mouth. The werewolf gave her a wary look.

Wednesday didn't recuperate it, pressing forward.

Chandeliers dangled precariously from the high ceilings, their dusty jewels letting out a disturbed jingle thanks to the wind that came in with them. There were even some dream catchers on the very highest beams, how they got up there, she does not know.

Wednesday glanced down the few rows of tall chestnut shelves. Shelves lined with various knick-knacks and contraptions. Old cameras. Record players. Radios. Pocket watches. Singing fish. Dolls with abnormally realistic hair. Lamps with suspiciously textured shades. Books of all upkeep and of course, what her roommate spent most of Outreach day maintaining. A wide array of stuffed roadkill.

“This place gives me the hebejebes.” Enid shuddered. “I swear I almost fainted last time I was here.”

“You told me that was a Plan E of getting Ajax to ask you out.”

“It was! But I legit almost did it while still on Plan C.”

Wednesday stopped just short of the front desk. She reached out to inspect a skunk with a sailor's hat.

“Hmm…”She ran her hand through the fur carefully. “Not bad.”

“Somebody has good taste.”

Enid poorly suppressed a yelp.

Wednesday turned around, finding the shopkeeper lingering at the service doorway.

She was younger than she expected. Her curly hair was grey and draped over her bosom easily. She wore a copper-tied dress accompanied by an eccentric shawl with various geometrical patterns. If Wednesday squinted, it looked like it was telling a story, like it was ripped straight from a quilt. When she moved, the bone necklaces and beads the woman wore around her thick neck rattled together. Wednesday was sure that the assortment of jewelry got cumbersome at times.

She had on this imperceptible look, her brown eyes were alarmingly alive and mischievous but almost omniscient. Like she was staring through them rather than at them. Her smile was upturned yet there was something to it Wednesday couldn't put her finger on. It was akin to the infamous smile of the Mona Lisa. It seemingly changes between look to look. From happy, to sad, to not even present at all.

“Hi…” Enid waved shyly. “Remember me.”

The woman tore her gaze from Wednesday, blinking at her roommate for a few quiet seconds before finally snapping. “Ahh yes! You were the one enthusiastically scrubbing Chip last outreach day.”

“I wouldn't call it enthusiastic, but yes! I'm back!” Enid rolled on the balls of her feet out of awkwardness rather than her usual enthusiasm.

The woman turned back to Wednesday curiously. “And you bought a friend.”

“This is Wednesday,” Enid gestured with a curt smile.

Wednesday continued to appraise the woman. The smile disappeared. No…it was back again. No, it's gone…

Enid nudged her in the ribs. “Say Hi Wednesday.”

Wednesday fought the urge to rub her side, flashing a glare at the girl. “Connie Jorgensen I presume.”

“You presume correct,” Jorgensen nodded, pointing a bedazzled finger at her. “Now you seem like you're into taxidermy.”

“Geez how'd you know?” Enid snorted.

“There are certain auras- energies! Around people. You pick up on it as you grow older.”

Jorgensen studied Wednesday, playing with one of her rings. “You're friend emanates stone-cold killer. But really just has an old, endearing, unbothered soul with a bone for a good mystery.”

Wednesday arched a brow back. She didn't expect to get profiled on this fine gloomy day.

“Aw, that's sweet she called you endearing Wenya,” Enid cooed, clapping her hands like it was some magic trick. “Me next!”

Jorgensen spared her a sidelong grimace. “Desperation.”

Enid's smile faltered, perking down considerably.

Wednesday had to admit that was unnecessarily rude. Not everyone can handle the truth, certainly not Enid.

Jorgensen shuffled forward excitedly, focusing all her attention on her. “May I interest you in a few quality pieces? Picked up right here in Jericho County. We have snakes, rats, squirrels even cats! Anything that skitters and scurries that meets the business end of a tire can be found here. Oh, This one I think you'll love, freshly stuffed this morning. A full-grown opossum. This time the Critter was actually dead when I started working on him. Made that mistake before. If not that then we have-”

“I'm not interested in purchasing one of your squirrel sets.” Wednesday cut in. “I was informed your family has been here for quite some time. Since 1791 I believe?”

Jorgensen straightened up, hands hovering over a tattered music box. She narrowed her eyes at them. “What's it to you?”

“I want to know everything about Joseph Crackstone and the Gates family.” Wednesday droned out nonchalantly. However, the reaction she got back was anything but.

All this talk about auras may have gotten to her head because Wednesday was sure the very temperature of the room dropped. Jorgensen visibly shuttered, her previously wandering brown eyes uncomfortably grounded.

Wednesday and Enid shared a look. It would seem Crackstone was a taboo topic even amongst the Jericho citizens. Well, some of them at least. There were still Pilgrim World fanatics after all.

“You'll need a whole book just for the trouble that bloodline caused this town,” Jorgensen eventually grunted, ghosting past them.

“I'm well aware,” Wednesday eyed the stiff woman moving behind the counter. “I fought and destroye-”

“Did you now?” She turned suddenly, staring right through them.

Whatever retort Wednesday had lodged in her throat. Of course, she defeated Crackstone. But Jorgensen's smile, her look. It concerned her. A return of the villain would be eye-rollingly stereotypical yet, she wouldn't call her pilgrim foes creative per se. 

The shopkeeper darted her eyes between them. “Sorry children, I'm afraid you'll need to ask someone else. Try the local library, if you're generation still believes in library cards-”

“I'll take that entire shelf of antiquities and that family of ferrets.” Wednesday pointed to her left. She's read enough mystery novels to know how this game was played.

Jorgensen blinked. She turned fully to the shelf, no doubt doing the mental arithmetic for such an order. “What's your starting price?”

Wednesday tilted her head. “Name yours.”

Jorgensen blinked again. She stared at her, probably waiting for the punch line. Apparently, the auras didn't notify her that Wednesday didn't do jokes.

“Bone for a good mystery…” Jorgensen muttered despondently after some time.

Wednesday frowned. It was an odd reaction. Almost sombre yet accepting. Jorgensen ambled down the counter, suddenly much older than just a few minutes ago.

She sized Wednesday up again, though she seemed more deliberate and scrutinizing. More present, like she was looking at her truly for the first time. She adjusted her clanging jewelry “The ferrets stay. You can take Senior scurvy off my hands. Been here since Y2K.”

She felt Enid's eyes on her face but she pressed forward. They stopped at a little nook in the wall with three rickety chairs placed curiously around a coffee table. Like she was expecting them.

“Whatever you do, do not drink the coffee,” Enid whispered as Jorgensen rounded the corner. “I almost puked last time.”

Wednesday looked at her disbelievingly. She's never met a cup of black coffee she didn't like.

“Cup of Joe anyone?” Jorgensen glanced up from her tray of refreshments.

Wednesday instantly pointed to her right. “She'll have some.”

Enid whipped her head. “Wednesday!”

“Make that a mug,” Wednesday was barely able to hide her grin. “She's in dire need of a pick me up.”

“Sounds dire indeed,” Jorgensen muttered, giving Enid a once over.

Before Enid could think of a clever response, a bone-white china mug was thrust into her hand. Wednesday watched the brown liquid slosh around, almost spilling on her uniform. She'd be lying if she said it didn't resemble rancid collagen.

“Thanks…” Enid tried sounding upbeat even though her face couldn't be further from it. Like a Death-row inmate on her way to the chair.

Enid always was the over-dramatic type.

She swirled the liquid around, bringing it up to her nose for a small sniff. She made a funny face before gingerly placing it in her lap.

Enid glanced up, eyes going wide when she met with awaiting stares.

“I-i'm waiting for it to cool-”

“It's cool,” Jorgensen assured with a smile.

Enid visibly swallowed, gawking down at the liquid. Suddenly - with surprising swiftness and dexterity- her roommate took a large gulp.

Wednesday arched an amused brow. She didn't think she had it in her.

Enid nodded thoughtfully, her throat constricting with a small grimace. “Scrumptious.”

Jorgensen nodded in approval, before fixing herself a cup. “Before I tell you the what, I must first ask the why.” She sat down carefully, eyes darting between them. “Why do you want to learn about that horrible man and his family?”

Wednesday straightened her posture. “I believe the recent attacks are somehow linked to him.”

Jorgensen stopped stirring, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. “That's a big accusation child, do you have proof?”

“Enough proof for me to be asking around,” Wednesday assured, picking off a piece of lint from her skirt.

“Did you alert the authorities?”

“And that helped last time?”

Jorgensen chuckled. “That we can agree on…” Jorgensen raised her mug as if in a toast, before taking a polite sip. “Galpin was never really the same after…”

“After what?” Enid frowned when she didn't respond for a while.

Wednesday caught the far-off look in her unfocused eyes before she quickly blinked them away. “That is not what you paid me for. So now that the why, is answered. What do you want to know?”

Wednesday leaned forward in her seat. “Do the gates have any surviving heirs that aren't public knowledge? A bastard child from an affair? A cousin twice removed? An estranged uncle?”

“The Gates were such a proud family it's hard to see them do anything like that.” Jorgensen shook her head.

“Yet mass genocide is somehow easier to swallow?” Enid retorted flippantly, doing more swirling than sipping with her mug.

“They were devout Christians, went to church every Sunday for the last 85 years. Never missed a day. If there was a bastard child I'd know of it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Jorgensen's face turned deadpan. “Because my family was their help until Abe Lincoln came along.”

“Ah...” Wednesday trailed emptily, pressing her lips.

That wasn't what she expected.

Enid let out an awaked cough. “But that leaves what…200 some-odd years unaccounted for?”

“Oh, we made sure to stay close.” Jorgensen chuckled, pouring herself another helping. “This town speaks to you, it's alive, you just need to find the right pulse points and you can hear all its dirty little secrets.”

“How about Westford? Did they have any property there? A business that went under? A summer house?” Wednesday pressed.

“Not that I know of. The Gates made sure to stay within the boundaries of Jericho, where their influence was at its strongest.”

Wednesday openly scrutinized the woman for a few seconds, doing nothing to hide her prying gaze. Jorgensen to her credit, gave no inclination she was affected.

“Though,” Jorgensen eventually frowned. “Westford has a dark past.”

“You're talking about the mass slaughter of the native Americans?” Enid shivered, clutching the mug deafly to her chest.

Jorgensen nodded gravely, her eyes glazing over. She looked right through them again, though this time Wednesday had an idea what she was peering at. Some moment in time she hadn't thought to gaze upon in a long, long while.

“I've felt dark energy before but that town…that town is something else…There's something there…deep…deep within it's very soul…it's roots.”

Wednesday saw Jorgensen in real-time wilt in front of her. Morphing and shifting from an omniscient shopkeeper to a woman paralyzed by the past.

“What do you know of a secret room?” She pressed quietly, hoping this trip down memory lane jogged any other worthwhile ones.

Jorgensen blinked back to reality. “Secret room?”

“The Gates had one in their basement.” Wednesday clarified, disheartened by the genuine confusion on her face.

“How would you know of this child?”

“I have a source.”

“Well, I assure you I know nothing of that.”

Wednesday inhaled slowly, leaning back. They were getting nowhere. It was either Connie Jorgensen was an expert liar, or she wasn't as good a source as she hoped. She sincerely hoped it was the former. Intimidation and torture were always easier than finding a new lead.

“Um, Wenya?” Enid's eyes went wide, staring at her phone. “I gotta go.”

Wednesday pouted slightly, trying to sneak a peak at the device. “Why? What's wrong-”

“Nothing!” Enid yelped, instantly shrinking away from her much to both of their surprises.

“It's just…” Enid gathered herself. “A club thing popped up, Divina wants me to get something for the catwalk. I'll meet you back at school, see ya Ms. Jorgenson!” Enid waved, not even bothering to wait for her response as she rushed through the shop.

Jorgensen snorted, mimicking her wave with faux enthusiasm. “See ya!”

Before the doorbell could chime off, Jorgensen started up again. “Catwalks…That reminds me of the time Greggory Gates was busted for running an NYC-styled speakeasy right under his shed during the tail end of prohibition. ”

“They have a penchant for unsolicited dealings…” Wednesday gnawed on her bottom lip, shaking her head clear of her roommate's odd behavior. “Have they ever dabbled in precious stones? A product that's worth storing? Or…stealing?”

“Well, not that I…wait a second,” Jorgensen eyes it up, staring right through Wednesday again.

Wednesday leaned forward.

“Old Ansel had a midlife crisis in the early 80s. I remember my mother saying it was the talk of the town. Apparently, he was enamored with the new Indian Jones film and decided to spend a good chunk of their family fortune traveling the world, raiding tombs and whatnot. He even had the whip and hat!”

Wednesday watched the brief twinkle spark up in her chocolate eye before they turned conspiratorial again.

“He seemingly returned empty-handed, the Gates family having nothing to their name but their name. Must've driven that whole house mad. Didn't help that it coincided with the outcast movement of 83' and the subsequent boom of your kind moving to the suburbs…”

“You're insinuating…” Wednesday bit her bottom lip, hesitating. “They blamed outcasts for their financial shortcomings?”

“Honey they were screaming 'They took our jobs!' when that orange hooligan was still a TV host.” Jorgensen allowed herself a snort before giving her an apologetic look. “It led to them attempting…horrible things to your people.”

“You said seemingly.” Wednesday shrugged off the unnecessary compassion. “He seemingly returned empty-handed.”

Jorgensen smiled mischievously, moving the tray of coffee to the side to lean closer as if letting her in on some big secret. “See here…My older brother was working at the gas station the night he returned. Nasty storm, the worst in ages. Said he came in clutching a satchel of some sort like it was his firstborn child. He even brought it with him to the restroom.”

Wednesday tilted her head thoughtfully. Now that was intriguing. “That's what was stored in the basement…”

“Whatever it was, he would not let it out of his sight.”

Wednesday chewed on the revelation. What the elder Gate brought back to the sleepy town of Jericho was not only worth hiding from everyone, but it was worth stealing. Today, when their name is arguably at its lowest point.

She felt her mind race a mile a minute.

So why go through the effort to steal it and why now? After everything that happened last term? Was the object so valuable that it was worth breaking and entering the house of a known murderer? Or maybe the object was valuable in another sense. Maybe Ansel got involved with the wrong sort. Maybe it held or represented information that this mysterious group couldn't risk getting out. And the recent spotlight on their family has led to them making their move on it.

Maybe the information could further damn and taint the Gates legacy? That poses the idea that whoever stole it was a Gates sympathizer or a close family friend. But what could the Gates have inherited that would stoop their name even lower than it already was?

“Do you know of anyone who'd know of their subterranean hidden room?” Wednesday brought her attention back to the far-off shopkeep. “Anyone that might know the value of this artifact he was hiding?”

“Everyone apart of the Gate's anti-outcast club skipped town after his boy died at your school. That and given how secretive they were.” Jorgensen shrugged. “I doubt it.”

“And you're sure there isn't any surviving family?”

“You said yourself,” Jorgensen suddenly cracked an unnerving smile. “You killed Crackstone.”

Wednesday felt an involuntary shudder shoot up her spine. Even though she semi-suspected his return, it doesn't mean Crackstone was any less dangerous than before.

“Of course…” she nodded stiffly. “He's all but destroyed…”

Before Wednesday could allow her mind to wander further, muffled excited shouts reverberated from outside the shop. Wednesday turned around only to see a blur of purple blazers streak across the windows.

“What's gotten all your friends in a tissy?”

Usually, she'd chalk it up to teenage overreaction to a meathead fight or grotesque prom-posal that the seniors wouldn't shut up about, but she felt something stir in her stomach.

“I don't know…” Wednesday muttered, shooting up from her seat. “But it can't be good... Or logical.” She added the last part with an exasperated huff.

“Wednesday,” Jorgensen suddenly latched onto her arm with surprising strength. “I'd think twice before treading down this road, some stories are best left buried.”

Wednesday darted her eyes down to her death grip, then back at the eerily grave expression on her face. For the first time today, she was actually looking at her. Straight at her.

“When you dig up the past the past tends to bite back,” Jorgensen whispered so quietly and so gravely, it could've passed for one of her house's ghostly murmurs.

“Believe me,” Wednesday jerked her arm trying to free it. “I know.”

“Wednesday.” Jorgensen only gripped harder, leaving imprints on her wrist. “From one mystery lover to another, don't let your need for a perfect story blind you from the truth.”

Wednesday grimaced, ripping her arm free. “Of course…” She murmured a bit confused before she started backing away slowly.

She glanced down at the increasingly worrying woman before turning swiftly for the door. Wednesday was much preferred when Jorgensen was caught up in her own head and auras rather than her well-being.

“And Wednesday!” Jorgensen hollered more anxious than ever.

Wednesday turned back briefly, bracing herself for whatever otherworldly insight she was about to get bestowed upon her by the mushroom coffee brewing antiquarian.

“I take cash app.”

~~~

“You actually kept Senior Scurvy?” Caspian gave a not-so-enthusiastic side eye at the stuffed skunk.

Wednesday shrugged. “Thing likes to scratch on him.”

Caspian snorted .“Speaking of where is he? I'd love to formally apologize-”

“He's busy.” she swiftly cut him off, eyeing him down in hopes of stifling any further prodding into his whereabouts.

“Well, when he's not busy,” Caspian shifted his eyes awkwardly. “send my regards.”

Wednesday nodded. “I'm not sure what Gates found from his travels. My first thought was a precious gemstone or historical artifact, but why keep it hidden? It certainly doesn't explain why they chose now of all times to steal it.”

“Yeah…” Caspian prodded Scruffy.

Wednesday gawked at him. She spared him a second more to respond but it was clear his mind was somewhere else completely.

“Is that all you have to say? Yeah?”

“I'm sorry,” Caspian shook his head. “Who's Indiana Jones? Why does he carry a whip?”

“Casp-”

The sound of her alarm unknowingly saved the boy. She really shouldn't be surprised. He had an uncanny ability to tunnel vision on the strangest parts of a story. And an even uncannier ability to escape her wrath unscathed.

Wednesday bit back a frustrated sigh, snatching Scruffy from Caspian's increasingly curious probing. “Let's just start working.”

She was just about to close her leather bag when she felt a small box shift across the backs of her hands. She glanced up at Caspian. He was dragging out his own books, but by his lethargic movements, it was evident Indiana Jones was still very much on his mind.

She debated even giving it to him now when he so obviously didn't deserve it. But why did it matter when he received this… what was it exactly? Gift? Offering? All she knew was during one of their mandatory computer labs for the history of outcasts, she saw it in an ad and thought of him. That's it. Nothing special about it, it's not like it was his birthday or anything. But now that Wednesday was thinking about it, she couldn't help but wonder when it was. Did wizards even celebrate birthdays?

“Here.” She blurted out to stop her mind from wandering down that rabbit hole.

Caspian eyed the slim midnight blue box in her outstretched hand. “What's this?”

“Senior Scurvy isn't the only thing I picked up that day.”

With a confused raise of his brow, he swiped the box from her hand. He turned it over with a slight scowl. He probably thought it was another one of Jorgensen's eccentric totems that she now had stacks upon stacks of in the corner of her room. She'll need to write to Lurch to pick them up.

“They said they were sold out…” Caspian's disbelieving voice drew her from her thoughts.

He stared blankly at the emerald fountain pen, eyes darting from Wednesday back down at the box he held limply in his palm.

Wednesday bobbed her shoulders mechanically. “Because I purchased the last one.”

“So you ordered it before even knowing I liked it? How?”

Wednesday pouted her bottom lip slightly. “I did say I noticed you liked green…and you were willing to risk getting arrested for a cheap fountain pen…”

Caspian's fingers lingered over the small object. She didn't know if her nerves were caused by the fact he hadn't even touched the thing yet or if it was his expressive face being unusually unreadable.

“It seemed like the logical choice to get you one to avoid that situation again.” She rushed out, blinking away to busy herself with getting her workspace prepared.

But even as the last words trailed from her lips, she felt a dull taste in her mouth. She saw him gingerly pluck the pen out of the corner of her eyes, letting out a small breath she was apparently holding.

“I…” He carefully twirled the pen in the soft light of their little alcove amongst the shelves. “I don't know what to say…”

Wednesday cleared her throat, suddenly feeling she was a little too close to him. “Nothing is acceptable. Let's just start-”

“No.”

Wednesday couldn't help but let her eyes gravitate to him. Which she instantly regretted.

“Thank you.” He said, nodding stiffly before the room thickened once more.

He was looking at her with an overwhelmingly gratifying look that almost didn't suit him. Well, what she has come to know of Caspian Lee that is. His signature half grins and eye rolls. The way he'd lean on almost anything and everything. It gave off an air of cool aloofness that seemed to apply to everything from assignments, all the way to the very world they stood in. His set jaws and furrowed brows whenever he was annoyed but wanted to stay level-headed. The narrowing of eyes when he was so obviously suspicious. How he'd always find a way to touch his face no matter the circumstances. As a mild germaphobe, it icked her slightly though she'll never admit it.

After a second longer of this tension, tension Wednesday was sure she could scoop handfuls of, and she blinked away. Her cheeks were a little hotter than usual. “I think I preferred nothing.”

“Me too.” Caspian shuddered, relaxing his shoulders.

“Just…” She pressed her lips. “Just put it to good use by listing out every major corn supplier in the Western Hemisphere.”

He opened his mouth and Wednesday fully expected some sarcastic complaint, but no words came out. He opted for silently paging through his textbook.

When he finished his list, Wednesday was still trying to figure out if she preferred his silence or not.

“And can you believe what he said next!…” Enid frowned. “Wenya are you listening?”

“Unfortunately yes.” Wednesday drawled out between keystrokes. She was just about finished her latest chapter when Enid drifted into the room with a stifling optimistic glow that was hard to miss. It didn't take long for her to begin recounting in painstaking detail her little conversation with Ajax after dinner.

“He asked me out on a date in town! To build-a-bear! Build-a -Bear Wednesday!” She giggled maniacally.

“Wow, that's practically one step away from engagement.”

“Woah don't joke about that…” Enid chuckled nervously. “In wolf culture that actually happens at our age. I don't think I'm ready for that just yet.”

Wednesday bit her lip, concentrating extra hard to push through the last few sentences. She was in a flow, it was a shame Enid broke that. She should tell her off for butting in on her sacred writing time, but it's been a while since she's seen her this happy. So she'll let her have this, just this once.

“I literally thought he'd never ask me out to Build-a-Bear.” An excited eek emanated from Enid, followed by a dull thump of her body hitting the bed. “Gosh, I almost made my own plans. How silly of me!”

Wednesday slid the typewriter cartridge with a high-pitched ding, turning to face her. “Enid, if it took him this long to realize you and stuff animals go together, what makes you think he's a good match?”

"Bite me.” Enid laughed, kicking her feet in the air.

Wednesday scoffed. “That's not an answer-”

“Bite me! Bite me! Bite me!” Enid heaved herself upright once more with a wide grin and flushing cheeks.

Wednesday raised her brows. “Be careful what you wish for.”

But Enid ignored her, choosing to tap away excitedly at her phone. Either messaging Ajax or all her friends about the coming date. Wednesday studied her for a second. Enid really was excited about the prospect. Wednesday supposes everyone had their preferences with how to enjoy their free time. But Wednesday couldn't grasp the concept that conversation with the Gorgon could actually be beneficial. At least the date was an activity. If it was a dinner, his wits would have to carry the entertainment.

“Thing gets it.” Enid pointed at the hand who was making a heart shape with his index and thumb. “Love is just love, doesn't have to make sense.”

“But it would be better if it does.” Wednesday hesitated, turning fully in her seat. “You can still do so much better than him.”

Enid paused, something brief flashing over her eyes before she shook her head violently, her blond hair whipping at her face. “Nah. Besides it's not like there's anyone else in this school that I like. Or who's even attractive, to be honest.”

Wednesday tilted her head. Enid didn't sound very convincing even if her actions say otherwise. “Are you sure about that?”

“HUHH?” Enid's eyes went wide.

It took Wednesday a minute to realize why her roommate reacted that way. But by the time she mustered up the proper words, Enid was already bouncing in her seat.

“Does Wednesday Addams have the hots for someone? Please say it's Xavier please say It's Xavier!” Enid sat in a crisscrossed position now, making a show of deep prayer.

“No, I meant in your case, I think you'll find- wait,” Wednesday scoffed, slowing down her thoughts. “Why are you rooting for Xavier?”

“I may have put money on it” Enid crossed her fingers and closed her eyes. “Please say you like Xavier please say you-”

“I don't-”

But before Wednesday could retort - or stride across the room to make her physically stop - a dull clunk reverberated around them.

They both whipped their head to the window just in time to see what appeared to be an owl sliding right down the middle of the glass pane where Enid's colorful side met her tasteful one.

Silence flooded the room, none of them quite sure what just happened.

“Why did an owl just head butt our window?” Enid glanced back at her, uncrossing her fingers.

The night air kissed Wednesday's exposed skin, causing her to flip up her hood and zip up the oversized sweater. They both stared numbly down at the grey owl, its legs pointed straight up in the sky and its eyes closed shut.

“Is it…” Enid gulped, stalking to the other side of the beast. “Y'know...ripper-onied?”

“Xavier did say he wanted to learn taxidermy.” Wednesday dropped to a crouch, inspecting the feathered flyer for any external damage that may hinder the stuffing process. “I can freeze it so it lasts till Friday.”

Enid shuddered. “First off…ewww…. seconds…Is this a date I smell? Or is it just rotting carcass...”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, going to the prone bird. “For a werewolf, you're awfully squeamish. And for the 53rd time-”

The second Wednesday made contact, the bird screeched to life in a flurry of feathers. The two girls jumped back in surprise, the Owl darting dangerously close between the two of them

“AHH!” Enid let out a high-pitched shriek when the owl decided it wanted to circle her head. “Ok not dead, not dead!”

“Enid calm down! Just…stand still!” Wednesday implored.

But Enid continued to swat feverishly with clawed hands, bobbing her head lower into her neck like a turtle to its shell. After more yelps and running around and exasperated orders from Wednesday that most definitely fell on deaf ears, Enid finally started to calm down.

“Ok…nice bird…Just please don't peck lashes out I just put them in!” Enid went rigid, closing her eyes and crossing her fingers. Wednesday snorted at the familiar sight. She didn't believe in karma but this was pretty solid proof of its existence.

After a few steady beats of its silent wings and more screeches, the owl finally settled on Enid's small shoulder. Everyone (the bird included) seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

“Wednesday… I think she likes me.” Enid whispered in awe, eyes fixating on her. Like any sudden movement would disturb this uneasy peace.

Wednesday studied the odd sight before her. Wild owls weren't known to be this comfortable with humans. “It probably likes you as much as it likes a sturdy branch.”

“I think we should keep her. She's our pet! She chose us! Bernadette the barn owl!” Enid bit back a smile, bringing a tentative hand up to caress the owl's sleek feathers.

“It's a barred owl…” Wednesday corrected distractedly. She was too caught up in the fact the owl was not only letting Enid pet her but enjoying it too. Almost leaning in and purring like a cat would. Wild owls definitely didn't do that.

“Hold on.” Enid furrowed her brows, her hand disappearing under the owl's mass of feathers and fur at its legs.

Wednesday watched rather uncomfortably as Enid fumbled around the owl's talons. She was half expecting the Owl to scratch her or peck at her eye, but what happened next was equally gobsmacking.

“A note?” They chimed in unison, eyeing the piece of rolled-up parchment in Enid's manicured fist.

They exchanged an unsure glance before Enid carefully started unravelling the delicate twine that held it together.

Her brows knitted. “It's from Caspian.”

“What?” Wednesday felt her feet move of their own accord. Caspian? Notes? An owl?

“It's for you,” Enid stated blandly, staring up at Wednesday.

Enid seemed to hesitate for a second before thrusting out her arm, Wednesday carefully plucking the soft yellow parchment free from her grasp.

“Since when did you guys start sending owls to each other?”

But Wednesday was already spinning around, opening up the note,

Enid's shadow from the moonlit night cast over Caspian's delicate handwriting and Wednesday instinctively shrunk away.

Enid blinked at her, bewildered. Wednesday felt it too. Why did she react like that? Like whatever he wrote was some sort of secret? It was such an involuntary and, quite frankly, juvenile maneuver that flooded out of her as effortlessly as limestone absorbing rainwater.

In her defence, it was meant for her. But it wasn't like they were sharing anything scandalous. If he had for some reason wanted to, there had to be a more secure means of communication other than primal aviation.

Enid blinked again, but this time it was that of stiff realization. “Ah…” She nodded with a strained smile. “I see...”

Wednesday was just about to ask what exactly she meant when a cold gust of wind ruffled the bird to life.

“Hey, Bernie!”

It hooted once before gliding head-first into their open window door.

Enid spared Wednesday and the note a small frown before darting back inside to chase after the bird.

Wednesday thought about going in after them, but she really was curious about what Caspian wrote. And why an owl of all things.

'Dear Addams, hope this letter finds you well. The pen is bloody magnificent, I finished my English assignment early because I couldn't put it down!

Oh yeah, you're probably confused about the bird.

I remember you saying you prefer messages by animal. Coincidentally owl is how we usually communicate back home. Found this bugger sleeping in a tree while at Gerald's - who misses you dearly and would love it if you visited. I haven't named him yet because he might fly off at any moment and I would've gotten emotionally attached for nothing. Feel free to feed him some seeds, bugs, rodents, or any spare body parts you have lying around. But only AFTER you attach a message. Or else the bugger will just fly off.

P.S: Probably keep him away from Thing.'

Just as Wednesday skimmed the last part, a horrified “Thing!” came from inside followed by a crash of metal.

Wednesday's nostrils flared. He couldn't have mentioned that sooner?

It took a while but with their combined efforts, they managed to banish the owl outside. Enid grumbled about the mess of clothes even though Wednesday was sure it was already a mess to begin with. If anything, the commotion made things neater.

Wednesday hesitated on her reply far longer than she liked to admit. So that answers why he chose an owl. She recalled her off-handed comment during their police station raid about preferring ravens or rats. She was surprised he remembered, especially during a time like that. Like she said, he had an uncanny ability to zero in on the most bizarre details.

She felt a small flurry in her chest when he said he enjoyed the pen. She may have read that bit over a few more times for no reason in particular.

But she still had so many questions. Like why did wizards choose owls as their messengers rather than other, more magical animals? Are all owls this…unhinged or is it just because it's untamed? Or perhaps the owl reflects the owner, in which case Bernadette's behaviour is rightfully justified in her eyes.

After a while more deliberation, Wednesday decided on a simple question. She approached Bernadette confidently, attached the message to her left leg carefully, and offered up a few sugarcoated cashews from Enid's snack drawer.

'Dear Caspian, How did you manage to get control of an owl?'

He responded in 2 minutes.

'Dear Addams,

What do you mean…'

Wednesday re-read the note again with a scoff. All that time debating on what to send him, finally settling on a simple question, and he was still confused?

'Dear Caspian,

Owls are notoriously impossible to train let alone act as carrier messengers.'

'Dear Addams,

I can turn a drinking fountain into a zebra yet this is where you refuse to suspend your disbelief?'

'Dear Caspian,

You still didn't answer my question.'

It was a whole 5 minutes of Wednesday waiting out in the cold. She was just about to head back inside when Bernadette swooped up and over the ramparts.

Wednesday unfastened the note hastily, her breath misting and her fingertips numb. The letter was larger so she expected a full-length answer to her questions plus more for her time. But as she went to open the letter, expecting another Dear Addams, it suddenly sprung from her grasp, startling both her and Bernadette.

She watched dumbfounded as the parchment morphed and twisted into impossible shapes. If she had to compare it to something, she would say origami. But the ancient Japanese tradition of paper folding didn't do whatever was happening before her eyes justice. After some more ruffling, a paper mouth hovered directly in front of her.

She didn't know how she knew, but she was sure it was the mouth of Caspian. And her hunch was correct when its paper lips curled into an all too familiar smirk.

 “Dear Addams…Magic.“

The parchment quickly tore itself to pieces. Before Wednesday could process what she just witnessed, Bernadette disappeared into the moonlight.