Wednesday Addams' mind was an ordered and categorized space to almost pathological levels.
This extended to her entire life experience and memory, and of course also to those people who were part of her life, were recurrent presences or had impacted her in some way. Her family occupied a position of prominence recently shared with a certain she-wolf. The next order of ranking would be those few individuals she could objectively categorize as friends, even if she insisted that they were only people she tolerated. Then would come those whom she actually only tolerated, those deserving of her scorn, the ever-changing number of subjects on her personal hit list, and so on.
Many were also forgotten or only partially remembered, either because of the passage of time or because any initial interest had dissipated, or because from the beginning they were considered inconsequential to Wednesday Addams.
And then there was that last, strange category of people in her memory that she would never admit out loud existed. The regrets. Those few subjects she remembered linked to some catastrophic failure on her part.
Like Rowan Laslow.
Not that she felt sorry for him, or guilt. But Rowan had the misfortune to be a symbol and trigger for the events that marked Wednesday's first year at Nevermore. His death had been the first mystery and the first failure. Wednesday had no problem admitting that initially her interest derived primarily from the very act of hunting down the murderous monster responsible and unraveling the mystery around it. Uncovering the truth and bringing justice for Rowan or other victims was not something she really considered until much, much later and thanks to the subtle influence of a certain Enid-shaped person.
Rowan's name was thus one duly categorized in her mind, if only adjacently, though a part of her could respect the boy's willingness to commit murder in a misguided act of presumed heroism. Too bad she was the potential victim and there were other, more terrible forces at play.
But even with all that in mind, Rowan was no more than a footnote. Wednesday hadn't even dug too deeply into the rest of his family once the real reason for his absence became public. It seemed that was something that had now come back to, metaphorically, bite her in the ass.
"Rowan's cousin," Wednesday said, not looking away for an instant from the woman pointing a magically charged piece of wood at her while telekinetically holding an immobilized Enid.
"Exactly," replied Isadora Laslow with a crooked smile, "Surprised, Addams?"
"In a way, considering your existence was unknown to me until this very moment," Wednesday replied, moving slowly to the side. Again, Isadora's wand never stopped pointing at her, "And I think it's easy to assume that your reasons stem from some sort of projection of guilt onto my person for your cousin's death."
"He died because of you!" exclaimed Isadora.
"Wednesday... Wednesday didn't kill Rowan," Enid growled from her position high up against the column of the gallery that surrounded the quad’s courtyard.
"Does it matter?" retorted Isadora, almost shouting, "She's the trigger! She's the reason he died! Because of all those stupid visions of Auntie eating his brains since he was a kid!"
Something akin to a chuckle mixed with a sob escaped the witch's throat, "I practically raised him myself, you know? Permanent babysitting job. The consequences of his mother's death and my uncle being a distant father."
"I suppose a maternal instinct can explain your homicidal impulse, however delusional it may be," Wednesday said, "What escapes me is your method. I gather from that book in your satchel that you attempted to use multiversal magic against me, but the effects of the spell may not have been what you initially sought."
"Magic... as I said, it's not easy for those of us not born with it," Isadora explained, "Magic is a hungry and eager beast if you have no power of your own to give it, so I had to resort to sacrifices. A human life would have been good fuel, but it was a complicated matter. Too much attention. So I opted for animals, hunting. But deer and bears were not easy prey either. Thus I spent the last year and a half accumulating animal blood sacrifices that were easier to access..."
"Oh my God," Enid muttered, "The missing pets in Jericho. That was you??"
"That and some farm animals, yes," Isadora replied, "You see, I didn't want to get my hands dirty..."
"Tell that to the owners of those pets," remarked Wednesday.
Isadora continued speaking, ignoring Wednesday's comment. The Addams' prediction seemed to be coming true: the opponent was delivering a villainous monologue. Enid and Wednesday exchanged a sly glance, as if speaking to each other in silence.
Can you believe this?
"You see, the idea that's always been going around in my head is that Rowan would still be alive if you didn't exist," Isadora continued. A manic gleam intensified in her eyes, "And then I remembered this book from my visits to the Nightshades' library in my student years. The group was disbanded then, but I knew about access to their chamber from my aunt and uncle."
"That explains how you knew the place and how to get around Nevermore unseen," Wednesday said, "It doesn't explain what I assume is a predictable setback in your plans."
Isadora frowned, "I thought... I thought I had enough power built up for the spell. I felt myself butcher the spell as I cast the incantation, as it backfired and its effects were twisted..."
The witch took a breath, her gaze more fixed than ever on Wednesday.
"I really didn't want human blood on my hands then. So I decided I shouldn't kill you. I was to erase you. This book contains a spell called Deletio Existentiae, a rather descriptive name..."
"Erased from existence," Wednesday translated.
"Rowan would still be alive if you hadn't existed. The spell was supposed to erase you from this reality moving you to another. In here it would be as if you had never been born. All existence would be rewritten while you were forced to live in exile in another universe!", Isadora exclaimed in a new verbal outburst before calming down again, an air of strange melancholy dominating her features, "But I screwed up because of a lack of raw power... Instead of erasing you from existence in this reality, magic began to bring variants of Wednesday Addams from other realities into this one. And it did so by making use of an anchor around which they would materialize."
Isadora glanced sideways at Enid, strengthening her telekinetic grip on the she-wolf, "I had my suspicions, and what I saw yesterday in the alley when one of them appeared next to you confirmed it. You are the anchor, Enid Sinclair."
Enid tried to ignore the discomfort at the revelation that she had still been under surveillance during Pup's appearance and that her senses hadn't picked up on it, "Why me, why am I that anchor for the Wednesdays?"
"Isn't it obvious?" asked Isadora with a hint of disbelief in her voice, "Because of all the people in this reality, you Enid Sinclair are the one and only who considers Wednesday Addams to be the most important thing in all of existence above everything else. You would die for her! You would kill for her!"
"Oh, what bliss" whispered Wednesday, looking at Enid, her dark eyes shining with the intensity of the passion burning in her soul at that very moment, "La mia feroce lupa..."
"Ma lune noire...," Enid replied, with equal intensity. Oh, if only she could move. The witch would already be a reddish stain of sliced flesh at her feet and she would be able to embrace her beloved and...
"Enough!" exclaimed Isadora, looking at them in disgust, "What the hell is wrong with you people? You're on the verge of death and you start generating so much sexual energy that even I can feel it!"
Wednesday looked at Isadora in such a way that the witch would have died a hundred deaths by now if the Addams really could destroy someone with her gaze. It was time to put an end to this.
"I'd feel pity for you if it weren't for all the damage you've caused, displacing lives from their places of origin to a strange reality, taking them away from their families...," Wednesday said.
"Oh, but that's something I plan to fix, Addams. I can send your other selves back to their realities. It's very simple," said Isadora, "I just have to remove what anchors them to this universe."
"Oh, that doesn't sound good," said Enid.
"Of course, that means Enid Sinclair has to die," said Isadora with a sadistic smile, "It seems I'm forced to resort to more barbaric methods in the end, but the truth is I don't give a shit anymore. Don't worry Addams, I'll kill you too, but first I want you to suffer watching your bitch die."
Wednesday narrowed her eyes. She let the fury flood every fiber of her being but without letting it rule her. Almost time...
"You feel so confident in your victory. Convinced that you can dominate us," said Wednesday.
"Shouldn't I be?" asked Isadora, with an unpleasantly triumphant smile.
"What you should have done is study what we Addamses do to anyone who tries to subdue us," said Wednesday, "Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc!"
Many things happened in an instant after Wednesday pronounced the Addams Family credo as a warcry.
Something whistled in the air.
Isadora Laslow's left hand burst red as it was pierced by a metallic bolt. Courtesy of the crossbow held by Woe, which had made an appearance on one of the upper levels of the galleries surrounding the quad.
The teenage Addams smiled at the honor of having first blood.
The witch screamed in pain and disbelief, losing her concentration. Enid fell to the ground as the telekinetic energy that held her immobilized dissipated.
Two small figures emerged from the shadows near the gate through which Isadora herself had entered minutes before. Friday and Pup ran with a speed and coordination that few people would expect to see in two girls of eleven and six. They ran behind Isadora's back, carrying a rope between them. As they ran they separated, extending the rope and hitting the back of the witch's legs with it, sending her crashing to the ground.
They turned, intending to leap on their opponent and make use of the rest of the rope to immobilize her. But despite the pain of the bolt in her hand and the disorientation of the fall, Isadora seemed to maintain enough clarity of thought to instinctively raise her wand. A wall of flame was conjured out of nowhere and would have reached the two little girls had they not been grabbed by Enid Sinclair and taken cover behind the fountain in a single leap from the werewolf.
Wednesday was forced to follow her beloved's example and take cover despite her desire to make use of her sword at once. The flames conjured by Isadora spread in such a way that even Woe at the top had to duck.
It's like Crackstone all over again, Wednesday thought, I guess if you fought one magic user you've fought them all.
"AAAAARGH!!! You little pieces of shit!!!", Isadora exclaimed getting up as she ripped the bolt out of her hand. Blood gushed out, but the witch ignored the pain, engulfed in her fury. Her attention fixed on the lycanthrope and the multiple Wednesdays taking cover behind the fountain in the center of the quad.
"You think that's going to protect you?!" she screamed, "I've killed enough kittens to turn the fucking ground into lava! I'll fry you! I'll...!"
Something hit her in the head, hard. Isadora didn't lose consciousness, but this time she did turn around disoriented and in pain, finding another Wednesday before her.
Shark grinned, holding up her shovel, "Round 2, witch."
"What the...?"
The shovel hit Isadora again, full in the face. Once again the witch did not lose consciousness despite the disorientation and the profusion of black spots in her vision, which spoke favorably about her fortitude.
She did lose a couple of teeth, though.
Wednesday, Enid, Pup and Friday emerged from behind the fountain, observing the scene. Enid made an attempt to intervene, but Wednesday stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Let her have her fun."
And indeed, Shark seemed to be having the time of her life, throwing lunge after lunge with her shovel. Isadora was managing to dodge most of the blows, or block them with her wand, generating something that looked like a small shield of light that came apart whenever it was hit. Her face was swollen and reddened, with blood gushing from her mouth. Her eyes glowed wild with fear.
Shark laughed with delight. Up above, Woe exclaimed "Keep her still so I can shoot again!" as Pup and Friday applauded. Enid watched it all with a bemused but no less sincere smile. The bewilderment was not so much at the scene of a twelve-year-old girl beating a grown woman with a shovel as it was at catching herself enjoying the spectacle.
Certainly an Addams in all but name at this point.
Unfortunately, the fun was short-lived. Woe's exclamation seemed to arouse some kind of primal fear in Isadora Laslow. The witch screamed, stretching out her arms. A surge of invisible telekinetic force expanded from her position. Shark was flung out, flying until she slammed into one of the columns on the edge of the quad.
The same happened to the others as the fountain in the center shattered into fragments. Enid shielded Pup with her own body as Wednesday did the same for Friday. Woe tried to shoot from above, but each and every one of her bolts was scattered, falling inert to the ground.
The surge of telekinetic power ceased, leaving only a gasping Isadora Laslow standing. Shark was beginning to rise, using her shovel for support, but it was obvious that the force of the impact had stunned the young Addams.
On the other side of the quad, Enid sat up, ignoring the pain caused by the stone fragments from the fountain that had struck her. She focused her attention on Pup.
"Are you okay, kiddo?"
The smallest Addams nodded, her face with the same earnest serenity as always, "Getting thrown around flying is fun."
Enid smiled, "It's going to be an acquired taste for me," the half transformed she-wolf said, glancing to her side. Wednesday was already up with Friday beside her. The Addams in pink appeared to be unharmed, but Wednesday had a bleeding scratch on her forehead. She looked more irritated than anything else.
She gripped her sword tightly, "Let's get it over with."
"Are you going to kill her?" asked Enid.
"I know you don't approve..."
"Oh, no, no. That asshole tried to burn Pup and Friday alive. If you don't kill her I will."
Any discussion was cut short by a new cry of pain from Isadora Laslow. In the center of the quad, the witch now had a new bolt stuck in her right shoulder. Her wand fell to the ground.
"I think I must be disoriented from all that discharge of power," claimed Woe, "I was aiming for the head."
"You... all of you...," Isadora muttered, as she brought her bloodied left hand to her satchel and extracted a vial of fluorescent purple liquid.
"I have no idea what that is, but I bet it's bad news," Enid said.
"It must be some kind of potion, we mustn't let her drink it...," said Wednesday as she began to advance sword in hand towards Laslow.
But she stopped dead in her tracks when the witch struck herself, shattering the vial and spilling the purple liquid onto her forehead. Isadora began to laugh, a laugh that gradually grew deeper and more monstrous. Her pale skin took on a purple hue similar to the liquid in the vial, her veins swelling all along her face, neck and body. Her face was still human, but her features looked wild, grotesque, with eyes bulging out of their sockets. She bent forward as the clothes on her arms and legs began to tear as her muscle mass increased. In particular, her left arm became a disproportionate mass of muscle and twisted flesh, almost as large as her torso, forcing her to walk with her body leaning to that side. Her left hand was now crowned by worryingly Hyde-like claws.
"Enid, querida, I think as a writer I can say that we are looking at what is popularly known as a Diabolus Ex Machina."
"A what?"
"An Ass Pull, mia lupa."
NOTES
So... How many of you remember the mention of an unsolved missing pet mystery in the very first chapter of this fic?
Isadora is... not well. She can't go after Tyler or Laurel (it's my assumption they're still alive but imprisoned) so she's shifted the hatred for her cousin's death to Wednesday as a scapegoat. I hope you found the explanation of the spell convincing.
Translations:
La mia feroce lupa (italian): my fierce she-wolf.
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