Kisses & Killings
“You snuck out after curfew, drug your fellow students with you, broke the law by entering the Gates home, nearly got other children killed, and now you’re accusing Dr. Kinbott of murder?” Weems laughed, snarkily and coldly. “Absolutely unbelievable. Give me one reason, a single reason, why I shouldn’t expel you here and now.”
Wednesday sat before Weems’ desk with the same stony face she had since Galpin dropped her, Enid, and Xavier off at Nevermore. Miss Thornhill had met them at the door and guided Enid and Xavier to their beds while Wednesday was wanted by the principal.
So far, Wednesday had sat in relative silence while Weems ranted at her. After sharing the story of their evening, Weems hadn’t been interested in anything Wednesday had to say.
She especially hadn’t been interested in hearing Wednesday’s theory about Dr. Kinbott being Laurel Gates. Wednesday had her proof, if not physical, then at least she would never forget the sight of those flowers on Laurel’s bedside table. Identical to the ones sitting in Sirius Black’s hospital room.
Wednesday reached in her backpack, digging for her only leverage against instant expulsion.
“Because of this,” Wednesday said, taking the parchment from her bag and holding it up for Weems to see. Miss Thornhill shuffled closer, standing behind Weems so she could see the picture.
It was the one that Rowan’s mother created, the prophecy that drove Rowan to attempting to kill Wednesday and Harry.
The prophecy that ultimately backfired and ended in Rowan’s own death.
“Where did you get this?” Weems asked Wednesday. She studied the drawing of Wednesday and Harry standing before Nevermore, the school buried in flames.
“From Rowan, only moments before he tried to kill us to prevent it from coming true,” Wednesday answered truthfully. “He believed it was a prophecy saying Harry and I would be responsible for the destruction of Nevermore. I believe he was wrong.”
“And what do you think this means?” Thornhill asked Wednesday, peering at her over Weems’ shoulder with her eyes bulging behind her blue rimmed glasses.
Wednesday drew herself up tall, using a condescending look straight from her mother’s face, and waited for Weems to look at her in the eyes before elucidating.
“I believe Harry and I are meant to save Nevermore,” she told the principal who so cherished her school for outcasts. “Something is coming, something bad, and Harry and I can stop it.”
“Where is Harry this evening?” Thornhill asked, her eyes roaming around the office as if Harry was hidden in a corner. “The two of you are usually thick as thieves.”
Thieves always turned on each other, how many times had Wednesday witnessed that very phenomenon with her Uncle Fester? Wednesday and Harry shared a bond that transcended ridiculous similes.
“Bed,” Wednesday lied smoothly. “I tried to convince him to go with me tonight, as I did Enid and Xavier, and he refused.” Wednesday raised a shoulder in a casual and careless gesture. “His lack of curiosity astounds me, but it’s hardly a crime.”
“I’m glad at least one of my students has the self-preservation to remain uninvolved in this mess,” Weems muttered, easily swallowing the lie about Harry because it was what she wanted to hear. Weems continued to study the drawing for a moment before holding it back out for Wednesday.
“One more toe out of line and you are expelled, do you understand me?” Weems asked, holding fast to the parchment while she stared Wednesday down.
It was becoming insulting the amount of people who believed they needed to add a clarifying question at the end of their statements. Of course Wednesday understood, she did speak seven different languages.
“Perfectly,” Wednesday said.
Wednesday didn’t plan on placing a single toe out of line- she would place her entire body out of line.
Especially when Thing caught up with Wednesday on her way upstairs and explained that he lost Harry somewhere in the woods that surrounded Gates Manor.
“Where are you going?” Enid asked when Wednesday returned to their room.
Wednesday hurriedly put away the prophecy with the purple rose in the music box she stole from Laurel Gates along with her blood sample of the monster, then pulled her jacket right back on.
“I have to go find Harry,” Wednesday told Enid curtly. “I don’t think he ever returned.”
“You can’t!” Enid cried, clumsily jumping from her bed and crossing her arms across her chest. “Weems will send you home if she catches you sneaking out when we just barely escaped expulsion!”
“There are worse things than expulsion,” Wednesday snapped. She quickly buttoned up her jacket and moved to the window that Thing helpfully opened for her. “Will you cover me or not?”
“Or not,” Enid said, turning her back to Wednesday. It was ridiculous and petty, but Wednesday stung with her rejection.
All the way up until she saw Enid reaching for her own pink coat.
“It’ll be quicker if we both go,” Enid said. She turned back and blinked when she saw Wednesday staring her down. “What?”
It was unfathomable that Enid would risk expulsion for Harry, by her own admittance, she didn’t care much for Harry. Which only left the conclusion that she was doing it because Wednesday wanted to go find Harry.
The same reason she followed Wednesday inside a manor past curfew and helped her escape from the monster.
“You’re going to help me?” Wednesday asked her.
Enid stepped closer to Wednesday and smiled softly. Her amber eyes were warm and glowing in the light filtering in through their window that led to their balcony.
“That’s what friends do,” Enid said quietly, only inches away from Wednesday.
Wednesday found herself distracted by the dark flecks of green in Enid’s eyes and the heat that pooled in her stomach.
Never before had Wednesday desired to have friendships or connections, they were liabilities that would hold her back. But how could the werewolf girl who broke down doors with her strength and followed Wednesday directly into danger be a liability or a weight around her neck?
“Is that what we are? Friends?” Wednesday asked Enid, her own voice lowering to something resembling a rough whisper.
Enid stepped closer, they were very nearly the same height, though perhaps Enid had half an inch on Wednesday.
“Best friends,” Enid whispered.
Wednesday’s eyes flicked down from Enid’s eyes to her lips and her own breath caught at how close those pink lips were to her own.
“Your lip gloss is too bright,” Wednesday said. If her heart hadn’t been racing and her breaths weren’t coming out shakily, she might have noticed that she sounded as painfully awkward as every other teenager in such a stereotypical situation.
“It’s cherry flavored,” Enid said as she reached up and placed a gentle hand on Wednesday’s cheek.
Wednesday glanced up uncertainly to Enid’s eyes once more and it was all it took before those bright lips were pressed against hers.
It was soft at first, a new sensation and experiment for Wednesday to explore, then Enid gasped when Wednesday’s tongue darted out on its own power to taste Enid’s lips. Enid slid her hand to the back of Wednesday’s head, curling her fingers in Wednesday’s braids and doubtlessly ruining them, while Wednesday reached up to place her hand on the side of Enid’s neck.
Both girls moved together, tilting their heads slightly and deepening the kiss. Enid’s tongue swept across the bottom of Wednesday’s lip, hesitant at first then more sure when Wednesday gripped her waist with her left hand and squeezed tightly.
For a first kiss, for a first delve into the mysterious genre of romance, Wednesday imagined that it was more than sufficient.
It was quite possibly even… nice.
And then the girls broke apart with loud gasps of their own breath refilling their lungs where the others had just been when there was a tap on the window.
Enid, who found her mind much sooner than Wednesday did, spun around to open the window that Thing must have closed at some point.
“Harry,” Enid cried, sounding embarrassingly breathless. She backed away quickly from the window so that Wednesday could see Harry climbing through.
Wednesday had to immediately push away the thoughts - and taste - of Enid’s lips on hers when she got a good look at Harry. He was shivering, soaked clear through the ridiculous hoodie and beanie he wore, and he was so pale that even his lips had turned blue.
“What is wrong with you? Where have you been?” Wednesday demanded. She yanked her comforter off her bed and threw it around Harry’s shoulders. “Have you become suicidal recently?”
“I got c-caught in the rain,” Harry said through chattering teeth. He lifted his head and Wednesday saw a look of misery so deep in his eyes that his suicide attempt via drowning seemed to have true merit.
And if Wednesday had lost Harry then she would have burned the world to ash before joining him in death. Harry was hers, hers to protect and hers to drag through life.
They were connected- through blood, through a prophecy, through their kindred spirits that found a match in one another.
Nobody was meant to make Harry so miserable. They simply were not allowed.
“Can I stay here tonight?” Harry asked, sounding so desperately pathetic that it was like a knife to Wednesday’s chest. “Please? I- I just don’t want to be alone.”
“Of course,” Enid said soothingly. She wrapped her arms around Harry’s shoulder over the black blanket and guided him to Wednesday’s bed.
Wednesday watched impassively while Enid assisted Harry with pulling his muddy sneakers off and his hoodie until he wore just wet jeans and a blue t-shirt.
“I have some basketball shorts you can borrow,” Enid offered him. “You’re skinny, so they should fit.”
“‘M fine,” Harry said. He laid on his side and curled up until he was facing the wall, only his tangled hair visible over the top of Wednesday’s own blanket. “Thanks,” he whispered quietly.
Enid ran her hand down Harry’s, eliciting a full shiver visible even through the thick blanket.
“You’re welcome,” Enid said tenderly. “If you’re sick in the morning I’ll tell Principal Weems so you don’t have to go to class.”
Wednesday was no comforter, no mother-like figure, it was impossible to imagine herself in Enid’s position, but she was grateful all the same that Enid was there.
“I suppose there’s no need to go search for Harry,” Wednesday said, clamping down on the blood that wanted to burn her cheeks. Wednesday did not blush, she had trained that response directly out of her body.
And yet her face still felt warm when Enid moved to stand beside her.
“I guess not,” Enid agreed quietly. It was a testament to her character that her eyes were soft and focused on the back of Harry’s head. Father always said that you could read a persons soul through their eyes, a reason why Wednesday kept hers inscrutable, and Enid’s eyes showed nothing but concern for Wednesday’s cousin.
“You do need somewhere to sleep though…” Enid blinked innocently at Wednesday, only a small spark of mischief was visible. “Sleepover in my bed?”
Wednesday quickly averted her eyes away from Enid’s lest her face continued to burn.
“No,” she said shortly, annoyingly flustered at the idea. “Harry and I are cousins, he can scoot over.”
Enid had a smirk on her face when Wednesday returned to the room, dressed in her black flannel pajamas, and Wednesday scowled at her for it.
“Well you need a blanket anyway,” Enid said brightly. She grabbed a fuzzy purple blanket off the foot of her bed and wrapped it around Wednesday’s shoulders just as Wednesday had for Harry. “Now you’ll be warm,” she said, so painfully genuine.
“If I get a single purple hair on my clothing…”
“Then you’ll think of me,” Enid grinned. She leaned over, too quick to prevent it, and kissed Wednesday on the lips. “Goodnight.”
Wednesday had to force herself to continue to scowl all the way up until she laid in bed beside Harry and the darkness hid her features.
It wasn’t a smile, it was… an involuntary muscular response.
*****
When Wednesday woke Harry up the next morning, he told her he had a fever and wasn’t going to make it to class.
When Enid came to check on Harry during lunch, Harry said his head ached and he couldn’t eat anything.
When Xavier came by after classes, bringing Harry his homework, Harry feigned sleep.
And Harry would have been content to stay in Wednesday’s bed for an eternity - forget his obligations and his friends, his classes and his own thoughts - but the next person to bother him was Principal Weems.
“Oh, Harry, I was told you’re ill?”
Harry rolled over on his side and peered blearily at his principal. She had pulled a chair right up beside Wednesday’s bed and was looking at him with obvious concern on her face.
“Yes, ma’am,” Harry mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
“For being ill?” Principal Weems laughed lightly and reached over to place the back of her hand on Harry’s forehead. After his initial disinterest at being touched, Harry felt like he was leaning into her cool touch with a desperate need.
“Is it a physical ailment that plagues you or emotional?” Principal Weems asked softly.
It wasn’t rational, but Harry’s emotions rarely were.
“Emotional,” Harry choked out, his eyes stinging with his admission. “I lied, I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Principal Weems scooted the chair closer and ran her hand through Harry’s hair, resting it over the crown of his head.
“Mental health days are often as necessary as sick days,” she told him, which sounded like Harry wasn’t going to be in trouble for lying to skip classes. “Would you like to share with me what bothers you?”
Harry would like nothing more than to unload all of his problems on his principal; she was a smart, capable, person. Surely she would know what to do, she could look at everything with unbiased eyes and find a solution that would make everyone happy.
But he couldn’t.
It wasn’t just Tyler’s freedom on the line, it could be his very life.
“Do you have any idea how it feels to be so fully controlled? Not in charge of even your own mind? So… so… caged in your own body?”
“I can’t, ma’am,” Harry said regretfully, dropping his eyes to Wednesday’s black and grey checkered sheets. “I’m sorry.”
Principal Weems hummed and Harry was surprised to see she still had a tiny smile on her lips.
“Well I think I know someone you can talk to,” she said. “Come along, let’s get you dressed.”
Harry thought she meant Dr. Kinbott, but she didn’t.
Principal Weems stood outside Sirius’ hospital room and gestured for Harry to enter.
“I’ll wait out here, take all the time you need,” she told him kindly. She pulled up a chair and sat right outside Sirius’ room with a small book she pulled from her oversized white purse. “Go on, Harry, unburden your soul.”
Harry was skeptical about Principal Weems’ idea, but he did as he was told and went in Sirius’ room to sit beside his silent body.
“Hi, Ares,” Harry said quietly. He reached out and placed his hand on Sirius’, trying to rub his thumb on the back of his hand in the soothing way Tyler used to do for him.
“Last night was terrible,” Harry told him. “My- my friend friend turned out to be the monster that Wednesday’s trying to find… and…
“And it’s Tyler, Ares… It was Tyler.”
“Why?”
“Because someone was kind to me and I fell for it. I’m an idiot, right? Stupid Tyler looking for love from strangers because Mommy’s dead and Dad doesn’t care. I AM AN IDIOT AND NOW I AM TRAPPED!”
“And now I don’t know what to do,” Harry said, his tears falling shamelessly from his cheeks to Sirius’ arm. “Do I tell Wednesday? Do I help Tyler? Can I help him? I don’t know anything,” Harry sobbed. “I don’t want to make this decision and I don’t want to have two people I care about on opposite sides.”
Harry laughed bitterly. “Why am I asking you? Tyler put you here. He thought- he thought you were hurting me, but… but is that a good excuse?”
“Can you help me?”
“I think… I think the question is should I help you…”
Harry tilted his head forward, resting his forehead on Sirius’ arm, and cried out his never ending frustration to one person who couldn’t mock him for it.
Harry wasn’t a hero, not in any world. Harry was the villain with more dead bodies in his history than Tyler had. And Tyler needed a hero- but Wednesday needed closure.
And only one of them could get what they wanted.
“Who’s controlling you?”
“I- I- FUCK! I can’t tell you. I physically can’t. You have no idea how wrapped up inside my head she is, Harry. I want to tell you everything and I can’t.”
“What can you tell me?”
“That if I could tell you everything, I would. I can tell you that my feelings for you are real and I wish this story had a different bad guy, but it’s just me.”
If it was Tyler, then it was also Harry. But Wednesday was the true heroine of their story, the brilliant and determined girl who wanted to put an end to the monster and save lives.
And Harry didn’t know who was a worse monster anymore—
Tyler for killing those people or Harry for not caring.
It was a twitch, something Harry could have attributed to the muscles in his own face, but then it happened again.
Harry lifted his head from Sirius’ arm and stared at him as hard as he could.
“Sirius?” he breathed, hardly daring to get his hopes up.
Raised hopes just turned into crushing disappointments.
A groan, a very quiet groan. And another twitch, a definite, noticeable, twitch.
“Sirius!” Harry cried, excited. “Principal Weems!”
Harry leapt from his chair and tore out in the corridor; he thought the nurses were rushing toward him until he heard ‘Code Blue’ being repeated over the speakers and the swarm of blue uniformed nurses ran right past Sirius’ room.
“Oh, Harry.” Principal Weems was on her feet, staring down the corridor where the nurses ran to with wet eyes and a handkerchief pressed to her lips. “That’s Leland’s room, he’s coding.”
Selfishly, Harry didn’t really care. He just wanted whatever was happening with the mayor to be finished so that the nurses could come check on Sirius. Harry kept poking his head in Sirius’ room every couple of seconds, checking to see if he was wide awake and ready to talk yet, while he paced anxiously waiting for medical attention.
When it finally came, it came with grim expressions and one nurse openly sobbing.
“Mayor Walker is dead,” the nurse told Principal Weems, causing the strong and stoic woman to let out a stifled cry. “Someone unplugged his life support. The town’s going to be in an uproar.”
“My God,” Principal Weems said. She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. “May he rest in peace.”
Harry felt horribly uncomfortable. Everyone was obviously upset, but Sirius was making noises and twitching.
“Ma’am,” Harry said, he cleared his throat and tried to sound louder, “ma’am.”
“Oh, yes, dear?” the nurse said, finally taking note of Harry shifting anxiously in front of Sirius’ door. “Can I help you?”
“It’s Mister Frump, ma’am,” Harry said. “I think he’s waking up.”
“God closes one door and opens another,” the nurse muttered. “I’ll just go check him over.”
Harry hovered in the doorway while the nurse looked over Sirius, checking his vitals and listening to his lungs. Harry’s stomach leapt when Sirius made another quiet groan when the stethoscope touched his bare chest.
“He’s definitely making improvements,” the nurse said with a wide smile when she tucked Sirius back in. “I think in a day or so he’ll be fully awake. We’ll take him down for a CT now and see what his brain looks like, okay, dear?”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Harry said. He backed away from the doorway so that Sirius could be wheeled out in his bed to get examined. Principal Weems clutched Harry’s shoulder tightly while they watched him go.
“It seems as if your visit was good for you both,” Principal Weems said. “Come along, Harry, I’ll have the hospital call us with any updates.”
Harry faltered outside the hospital and steeled himself to ask for something. Harry hated asking for things - it was right up there with asking questions, making eye contact, and making decisions - but he needed a favor.
“Ma’am,” Harry forced himself to look up in Principal Weems’ eyes, earning himself a pleased smile he didn’t feel like he deserved, “could we make a stop on the way back, please?”
Principal Weems’ smile grew until all of her pearly white teeth were on full display.
“Absolutely, get me a large chai tea, please.”
Harry forced himself to grin back before he climbed in the passenger seat.
For a person in authority, Principal Weems was a good person.
When Harry jogged in the Weathervane a few minutes later, he went straight to the counter with his head held high.
Tyler had been rearranging the display cookies but he stopped immediately when Harry cleared his throat and caught his attention.
“Harry?” he said, his eyes still grey and still shocked. “What are you doing here?”
Harry used all his bravery to lean across the counter, right in front of a shop full of people, and kissed Tyler.
“I’m here to help you.”
“Also can I get a large chai tea, please.”