Enid never understood the twice-finger snapping.
In any case... What relevance did it have to Edgar Allan Poe? Enid had never been a prolific reader of the Boston author, something that was perhaps a bit reprehensible being a student at an Academy named in his honor and with imagery referencing all of his work, but she was pretty sure that none of his stories contained significant references to finger snapping.
Wednesday had tried to explain to her that it had something to do with an ancient tradition of the Addams family, who apparently had been founders of the secret society, but even to herself it escaped her what mental juggling her ancestors had to do to turn something that was part of a family song into a secret greeting for a clandestine organization dedicated to the protection of the outcasts.
"Maybe they just liked the sound," had theorized Wednesday, "Like little bones cracking."
Yes, that was on-brand with her sinister girlfriend's family.
But that night, when Wednesday snapped her fingers before the statue of Edgar Allan Poe that would open access to the Nightshade Society's chamber, it was not strangeness that flooded Enid but a creeping sensation along her spine.
The lycanthrope had to make a conscious effort not to whirl in circles out of pure instinct when she heard the sound escape from Wednesday's fingers. The wolf in her expected to see a distortion in the air, a cloud of smoke accompanying that sound. Why was it that same noise that echoed as if it had come from nowhere when Woe and Friday had materialized?
What the hell did it mean, if it had any meaning at all?
"Enid?"
Wednesday's voice brought the she-wolf out of her musings with a slight jolt. Enid turned and saw her girlfriend standing in front of the open access, looking at her with a slightly raised eyebrow and an enquiring gleam in her eye.
"Ah, yes, I'm sorry, I've got my head spinning about the whole situation..."
"More than you realize, I've called you three times."
"You did?" asked Enid, perplexed.
Wednesday stared at her for a moment, with that look she got when she was trying to figure something out or unravel a secret. Her deep, dark eyes fixed on Enid in an intense way that the werewolf would have found awkward in the past but was so comforting now.
Enid could not contain a small smile.
"I'm fine, Weds. It's just that my brain is starting to wrap around the idea that we're going to be surrounded by madness again."
"With me you're always surrounded by madness, your little lupine brain should be used to it by now," the Addams replied with a slight smirk on her lips, "But come on, we'd better not waste any more time..."
Any other words she was about to say vanished from her mouth as she touched the stone wall at the entrance to the Nightshades' chamber ready to begin her descent.
Wednesday Addams' eyes rolled as her neck whipped back. Her body, suddenly stiff as a corpse, began to fall backwards and only Enid's reflexes kept the young woman from hitting the hard ground, scooping Wednesday up in her arms.
A vision. It had been a while since the last time.
She hadn't missed them.
It is quick, fragmented and imprecise.
The sky is night, but the stars are different. It is the past. A hooded figure slips into the shadows until they reach the statue of Poe.
Fingers snapped twice.
More shadows, shelves of books. A gloved hand grips an old dust-covered tome.
Wednesday can't see the title of the book, but its spine is crimson red.
She cannot see the face of the hooded figure.
No uniform. Not a student?
Their hands grip the book as if their life was at stake. They turn to leave, they are going to expose themselves to the light, their face will be...
Wednesday wakes up.
The first thing she notices is the warmth of the body that is holding her. Only that along with the comforting smell of cherry, vanilla and aged woods that always surrounded Enid prevents the Addams from emitting a frustrated grunt.
So she settles for an indignant sigh.
Looking up, she can see Enid Sinclair's blue eyes resting on hers, concern etched on her face.
"A vision?" the werewolf asked as she helped her to sit up.
Wednesday nodded, noticing how the stiffness left her muscles, leaving behind an unpleasant tingling that was strangely satisfying.
"Someone entered the chamber at some undetermined time in the last few months. I can't be sure of dates, but I'm certain it was the recent past."
"Does it have anything to do with what we're looking for?" asked Enid.
"I don't know. But experience tells me that when my visions are not random whims they tend to be related to the latest intrigue gnawing at the inside of my mind like a laborious worm," said Wednesday, "Whoever they were, they took a book from the Nightshades' library. We'd better check the shelves and the list of works in the archive."
The couple began to descend the stairs of the dark passage. Soon they reached the central chamber, headquarters and meeting place of the Nightshade Society.
One of the biggest disappointments Wednesday had faced in her academic life at Nevermore.
A once powerful secret society reduced to a private club of elite students. Ancient rituals replaced by private parties. True, when the situation required them to help save the academy they rose to the occasion. It could even be said that the members were, if not her friends, at least tolerable individuals. Or acquaintances. Some of them.
But the Addams never managed to shake off the bitterness of not being able to deal with a truly sinister cult. What a missed opportunity.
The oldest library shelves were arranged in a circular layout that expanded from the central chamber. It was reasonably well lit.
"Do you know where we need to look?" asked Enid as she followed in Wednesday's footsteps.
"The organization is quite chaotic, but from previous visits I recall that most of the magic texts are in this direction, and my vision gave me a little glimpse of the area and... Ah. Here."
The shelf was visibly older than the others. Books were stacked on it vertically and horizontally, along with loose pages crushed between the spines and rolls of parchment piled up. And in its very center, like an open wound, a gap revealed the absence of a notoriously thick book.
"It must be this... And look Enid, it was part of a collection," Wednesday said, pointing to the rest of the surrounding volumes, all bound in the same crimson covers.
Wednesday grabbed one of the two volumes adjacent to the empty space. A gut feeling made her grab the later one, the one that would be the volume following the missing one.
She brought the group tome to her lips and blew, wiping the dust cover clean. Engraved in silver letters, she could read a title written in English.
Sciences of the Multiple Realities.
Volume Three: Warnings and Reasons Not to Useth the Spells of Volume Two.
"Typical," said Wednesday, "It always has to be something tremendously imbecilic with this kind of people."
"That title sounds concerning," muttered Enid.
"Be thankful you've never had to maintain much contact with practitioners of the arcane arts, mia lupa. Most are creatures with no common sense," explained Wednesday, "They always put the warnings after the instructions."
Enid frowned.
"You're telling me that this book," the she-wolf said pointing to the volume in Wednesday's hands, "Is it just the warnings for the spell instructions contained in the book that's been stolen?"
"Exactly."
"But that means..."
"That there is someone out there, someone who may not even be part of this Academy, playing with forces beyond human comprehension and the fabric of the universe for reasons we cannot discern."
"And how the heck did that lead to versions of you from other realities starting to appear?" asked Enid, "What were their intentions?"
"Well, querida. That's the big question at the heart of our puzzling problem,” said Wednesday.
Enid could almost see them. The gears moving inside her girlfriend's head. The look on her face that to others would seem expressionless but to Enid glowed with the intensity of a hunter discovering prey. Wednesday Addams had found another riddle to unravel and Enid knew her obsessive partner intimately enough to understand that nothing would stop her until she got it all figured out. There would be no schedules, curfews or social convention that could stop Wednesday in this state.
And suddenly, the sound. Not loud, but clear.
A snap of fingers.
Enid felt the shiver on her back again and turned with all her senses sharpened to the max. She didn't see the distortion in the air but she could make out the remnants of wisps of smoke and the sound of displaced air as an empty space suddenly became occupied by a body. This time at least she was able to control the urge to extend her claws, but a wolfish growl rumbled in her throat.
Wednesday peeked out from behind Enid and again her eyes widened with interest.
"Oh, another one."
The newcomer must have been close to Woe's age, perhaps a little older. Fourteen, maybe fifteen. She wore a simple black dress with a white collar, tremendously austere. More striking was the apparent white coat, like a scientist's or doctor's, which she wore over it. Of a somewhat morbid shape, her pigtails ended in decorations reminiscent of nooses.
And she was extremely pale.
This might seem like an insignificant detail. All the Wednesdays were more or less pale, after all. But this one took the cake: her skin was stark white, marble-like, cadaverous. Enid had seen ancient vampires with more vivid complexions.
Her face lacked Wednesday's analytical coolness, Woe's constrained anger, or Friday's open joy. There was an expression of strange serenity, or almost exhaustion, although a faint interest and bewilderment could be seen in her eyes as she surveyed the environment around her.
Finally her attention turned to Wednesday and Enid.
"Greetings," she said. Her voice was monotonous and calm, "I can only deduce given my abrupt appearance and the semblance of one of you that I have been the victim of some sort of multiversal transmigration. Am I wrong?"
Enid looked at Wednesday with a question in her eyes. Wednesday nodded slightly, relinquishing the role of spokesperson to her.
Enid turned to the newly arrived counterpart, gently shaking her head, "No, you nailed it.”
Something shone in the eyes of the new arrival. A small smile appeared on her face.
It was not necessarily a smile of joy or sincere happiness. Wednesday recognized it instantly. It was the same smile her father had when he blew up his toy trains, the very same one mother had when feeding Cleopatra, the same smile Pugsley had when he could play with C-4, or the one Uncle Fester had... well, almost all the time. The smile of an Addams fascinated by what they enjoy most.
Wednesday knew immediately that the newcomer must be a mad scientist of some sort when she started rubbing her hands together and whispered "Fascinating."
NOTES
Translations:
mia lupa (italian): My she-wolf.
querida (spanish): Dear/My dear/Darling.
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