Taylor Galpin.
The name... no, the surname echoed in Enid's ears with the same intensity of a gunshot.
The werewolf felt each and every muscle in her body tense at the same time in an almost painful, gripping way. A rush of adrenaline that turned her body into an explosive force ready for action.
A wave of memories and sensations invaded her. Memories of a night two years ago, a night of a blood moon. The fear, the anger, the smell of the forest, the scent of that thing holding Wednesday in its claws, the pain in her flesh.
Her scars began to sting. The itching turned into a cold, sharp pain. Almost as if the wounds had opened up again.
The smile of greeting on her face had frozen into a rictus of tension. Enid noticed a growing pain in her jaw and discomfort behind her lips. Without realizing it her teeth were becoming too large and sharp for a mouth that still maintained a human shape.
All around her all was silence. She could hear nothing but a growing murmur. Unconsciously she realized that it was herself. A growl growing from her chest and rising towards her throat.
A few seconds more and her claws would have emerged, digging into the hand of Galpin who was still greeting her with a handshake.
As fortune would have it, this did not happen when another hand landed firmly on Enid's shoulder, accompanied by a scent she knew better than any other in the world. The lycanthrope turned with a jolt.
She could see the twins, Dora and Theo, watching her slightly alarmed and puzzled. But what caught her eye was the visage and dark eyes of Wednesday Addams, and what finally broke through the haze that had begun to fall over her mind was the look on her face.
Neither Enid nor Wednesday were telepaths, but in that exchange of glances a genuine silent conversation took place. Wednesday hoped that Enid would understand.
Because at the end of the day, they didn't really know anything, did they?
Taylor Galpin. The name might as well be a coincidence. Wednesday didn't believe it for a moment, but neither could she afford to dismiss it and operate solely on assumed prejudices.
Taylor. Tyler. Everything pointed to the fact that they were dealing with a dimensional variant of their first adversary in Nevermore, the serial-killing monster puppet of a demented racist. A Hyde.
But there was no way to tell if that was the case with Taylor. From what little they knew, her presence there with Pup could be mere coincidence, a quirk of fate. Nor could it be said whether the girl was a Hyde or not. Whether or not she was, being attacked by Enid would be disastrous.
For if Taylor was a Hyde they would have a confrontation on their hands that they could not afford. If she wasn't, Enid would have maimed an innocent person and the guilt would destroy the she-wolf's spirit. And of course, there was the also troubling third option.
That Taylor Galpin was a dormant Hyde, ignorant of her condition.
After all, Tyler himself had no idea about his own nature until Laurel Gates revealed the truth about his mother and forced the transformation upon the young man. Taylor could very well be a Hyde who had never awakened to her alter ego, and being attacked by a lycanthrope could be a perfect trigger for a first transformation. A twisted, dark part deep inside Wednesday couldn't help but feel curious about what might happen if that were the case, but the Addams swatted that idea away like a fly.
So she merely grabbed Enid by the shoulder and tried to calm the she-wolf down.
The effect was instantaneous. Enid's whole body visibly relaxed. She had unconsciously begun the first phase of her transformation and her clothes had begun to tighten due to the muscle growth, but it all stopped in an instant. Enid blinked for a moment, before separating her hand from Taylor's, who began rubbing her sore one looking at the lycanthrope with some apprehension.
"Miss Enid, is something wrong?" asked Pup, concerned.
"I'm sorry... I...," Enid began.
"My apologies... Wednesday," said Wednesday turning to Pup, "I'm afraid Enid is carrying a lot of stress lately. Maybe she could use a little of your company, reminisce about old times. You know what I mean..."
The look that was exchanged between the two Addamses was also laden with meaning. Pup nodded seriously, approaching the lycanthrope and taking her by the arm.
"Come, I can make you some tea. I'm sure it will calm your spirits."
Taylor, for her part continued to watch the scene not quite sure what to do.
"Uh... Was it something I said?" she asked.
Wednesday fixed her gaze on Taylor, causing the girl to freeze in place like a fawn.
"Pandora, Theophrastus, why don't you two keep Enid and Wednesday company? I'm sure our cousin would like to catch up on everything you have to tell her," Wednesday said, not taking her eyes off Taylor for a moment. Behind her, Dora and Theo nodded after an exchange of glances and began moving toward the area with the stove where Pup had started heating water.
"Taylor," Wednesday continued, "If it's no trouble, I'd like to talk to you. Privately. I want to get to know my cousin's roommate better, I pray you understand."
The way she had spoken made it clear that there was no room to argue. Taylor nodded, nervously, pointing to the door to her room.
"Ah... yes, right. Of course," she said, trying not to stumble over her own words, "We can talk in my room."
"I'll save you two a couple of cups of tea for when you're done," Pup said from across the room. Wednesday nodded, stepping aside for Taylor to walk to the bedroom door and then follow, always keeping her gaze on her.
As the door to the room closed behind the two
of them, Pup turned to Enid with an expression of stern seriousness,
"Enid," she said, and the absence of 'Miss' was noteworthy, "What the
hell just happened?"
§§§
The door closed with a click behind Wednesday's back and the Addams was alone with Taylor Galpin in the latter's room.
Compared to Pup's it was a more conventional and mundane bedroom. A bed (unmade), a plain desk with stacks of books and magazines, a single shelf overflowing with textbooks, folders full of papers and boxes of drawing materials, an open trunk at the foot of the bed inside of which could be seen paint-stained rags, brushes, paintbrushes and paint pots of various colors. A handful of canvases of various sizes rested leaning vertically against the wall at the foot of the door and a couple of portraits hung by the window.
The whole room had a certain essence of orderly disorder. An artist's den.
"You study art," Wednesday observed.
"Ah, yes," Taylor replied, leaning on the desk and trying not to rub her hands together too much from nerves, "The university has one of the best art departments in the state and..."
"Where are you from?"
"Excuse me?"
"Vermont?"
"Uh? No, no... uh, I'm a New York State native. Born and raised in The Hollow," Taylor said. When Wednesday didn't respond, merely keeping her gaze locked on Taylor, the girl continued, "You know... Sleepy Hollow. Little village in Mount Pleasant... Washington Irving? It usually rings a bell to people."
Without answering, Wednesday kept thinking about the new information in her head. Well, the geographic background was totally different. No Vermont, no Jericho. But while it was a significant difference, it wasn't something that necessarily had to be determinative in proving Taylor's true nature.
It was time to dig a little deeper.
"Your father's name is Donovan," Wednesday said. It wasn't a question, but a clear and direct statement.
Taylor's eyes widened in surprise, going very still, "Yes, but how did you...?"
"And your mother is Francoise."
There! Almost imperceptible, but Wednesday could see it. A subtle shift in posture, the insecure nervousness Taylor was displaying had begun to give way to something different.
"How do you know her name?" the young woman asked. Her voice might sound shy, unsure, barely a whisper. But there was an undercurrent in her tone that reminded Addams of a sharp blade being unsheathed. Wednesday decided to press, to push her luck.
"I know more than her name. I know what she was," she said.
Taylor stood up, separating herself from the desk, this time her gaze as fixed on Wednesday as Wednesday's was on her. The Addams continued.
"Francoise Galpin. A demented madwoman, a murderer."
In barely a blink Taylor stood face to face with Wednesday. She was breathing deeply and all shyness had disappeared leaving substantial tensión and anger visible.
"My mother," Taylor began to say leaning forward, and it seemed as if she struggled to utter the words without raising her voice, "She was not a murderer."
Wednesday stood her ground, not backing down an inch. She merely raised an eyebrow.
"Then she was something else. Are you?"
Taylor blinked, frowning, "No... I don't..."
"Because I don't feel at ease at the thought of my cousin being under the same roof as an H..."
Suddenly Taylor's face was right in front of Wednesday's, their foreheads almost touching. The brown-haired girl's eyes had become empty and dull, like two pools of darkness. Like Tyler's eyes when he had revealed his true nature at the Jericho police station two years before. But where that moment had been a confession of calculated narcissistic sadism, the present situation was very different.
"I WILL NEVER HURT HER!" said Taylor. She didn't shout, not really, but her whisper was loud, clear and firm and Wednesday was surprised to detect something else. Underneath that outburst of pent-up anger was fear and...devotion?
Don't tell me that..., she thought.
Taylor closed her eyes, stepping back again and walking over to the bed, sitting down on it. She exhaled several times, opening and closing her fists until her agitated breathing normalized and a certain calm returned to her being. The nervousness from before was still absent and Wednesday wondered to what extent it had been genuine or some kind of masquerade.
"How much do you know about Hydes?" asked Taylor.
"Enough," Wednesday replied.
Taylor chuckled. A short, dry laugh that exuded sarcasm, "Believe me, it's never enough."
"Creative, sensitive people. Artists of some kind for the most part. With a sleeping monster inside them that can be awakened through a traumatic event or in a chemically induced way or by hypnosis," Wednesday said, reciting what she remembered from Nathaniel Faulkner's journal, "In those cases, the person who causes the transformation is adopted by the Hyde as its master."
Taylor nodded, "Yeah, that's part of it," she said, lifting her gaze and glancing down at her canvases, "There's a lot of stories and misunderstandings with all that. Some people think that with the right chemicals or brainwashing you can unleash a Hyde in anyone, but you can't. You have to have it already inside you or nothing happens. We are our own kind. It's congenital, hereditary. Matrilineal."
Now that was new information, "Is the condition only transmissible from mothers to their offspring?" asked Wednesday.
"Yes, and it's impossible to know how many of us there are...there are family lines that are totally lost or no longer known about. Out there there are possibly hundreds of people with a sleeping Hyde inside and if they are lucky they will never wake up. But they are ticking time bombs without knowing it."
Taylor looked back at Wednesday, offering a sad half smile, "My mother did her homework, you know? She studied everything she could, her biggest fear was someone trying to use me as a tool..."
"You're not subservient to a master," Wednesday observed.
"Oh, I am," Taylor replied, "But not like you think."
Wednesday frowned. She had a growing suspicion but it seemed far-fetched. She needed more facts.
"Explain yourself," she said.
Taylor shrugged, "A Hyde whose transformation was induced by another is... well, they're lost. Most people who are willing to do that aren't good people, and that's a guarantee that the Hyde will be totally absorbed by their more monstrous impulses. For those of us who are naturally transformed, by a traumatic event, it's slightly different."
Wednesday was about to ask what the traumatic event that triggered Taylor's transformation had been, but wisely opted to wait and let the girl continue speaking.
"The Hyde is... it's pure instinct. Instinct of a person's most violent, darkest, and selfish impulses. When a Hyde has no master... well, it depends on the individual, but many of us try to keep it at bay, to keep that impulse under control, but you can never quite contain it. Even if you find a way to limit your transformations, over time the Hyde's personality traits begin to bleed into the base human personality. The person adopts the qualities of the Hyde: aggressiveness, sadism, loss of morals, etc."
"Until eventually the two sides of the coin are indistinguishable and the human side enjoys the carnage as much as the Hyde alter ego," said Wednesday, recalling Tyler's confession.
"Officially there is no cure," said Taylor, "With a lot of willpower and the proper mental training some level of control can be exercised, as my mother achieved. But the mark never quite goes away...you may avoid becoming an absolute monster but you'll be little short of a high-functioning sociopath at best."
"Is that what you've achieved yourself?" asked Wednesday, intrigued. The apprehension of being in the presence of a Hyde was being tempered by genuine curiosity.
Taylor shook her head, again emitting a broken laugh, "Heavens, no. After my parents died I was downhill and well on my way to becoming a mass murderer."
"What happened?"
"We ‘natural’ Hydes, so to speak, can have masters too. It's by pure chance. Like a sort of imprinting process. One day you're walking down the street and you pass a person and Bam! You know it’s them, instinctively. That person is who you should follow, who you should listen to, who you should serve..."
Taylor paused for a moment and a serene, sincere smile appeared on her face as she glanced toward the door of her room, "I got lucky," she continued, "You can't decide who that person is. If it's someone bad... then hardly anything changes. But if it's someone good... then your monster will be under control, the risk of randomly hurting someone decreases. You can find some peace."
If Wednesday still had any misgivings, they were dispelled at that moment when she witnessed how Taylor had her gaze focused on the door of the room. No doubt thinking of a certain someone on the other side...
"Pup," whispered the Addams, "Wednesday. Wednesday is your mistress."
"And she doesn't know that," Taylor replied, nodding, "It was on my first day on campus and rushing over here, my new apartment, barely holding back the urge to let myself go and slaughter my future classmates when I run into what will be my new roommate and..."
Taylor laughed again, but this time without sarcasm or dryness. It seemed like someone else's laugh, jovial, relaxed. Cheerful.
"I swear to God the Hyde inside me purred as soon as my eyes landed on her. It was instantaneous, all the anger melted away and I felt able to think more clearly than I had in years," Taylor said, turning back to Wednesday.
She got up from the bed and moved slowly but steadily forward to stand in front of the Addams again. The tension from before was absent, but there was a certain air of resolve in her posture as Taylor leant down again to stare the shorter girl face to face.
"So no. I'm never going to hurt Wednesday," she said, her voice firm. Then, her skin took on a slight grayish tint, her eyes seemed to enlarge slightly almost bulging out of their sockets, and her height visibly increased by a few inches. When she spoke again, Wednesday could see how Taylor's teeth had turned into sharp needles, "And if anyone tries to harm her, I will slit them open from neck to groin and bathe in their entrails."
Wednesday opened her mouth to respond, but she didn't have time for any sound to leave her lips. Everything was silenced by a rumbling like an explosion, a deafening crash in the other room, the sound of rubble, screams, and a roar mixed with a howl.
Wednesday and Taylor rushed out of the room. It was barely a few seconds, but they were just in time to see the wall of the living room facing the street partially collapsed as if it had been hit by a wrecking ball. They saw Dora slumped and dazed on the toppled table, and Theo throwing a lightning bolt from his hands at a Shadow Hyde holding Pup in its claws, leaping into the street with a partially transformed Enid Sinclair grabbing onto its torso, trying to stop the monster.
Trying to process all that and before she could leap into action, Wednesday heard Taylor's clothes next to her rip within seconds and a new roar fill the air.
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