Chapter 6: Monstrous Enough

 

 

“Your beauty never ever scared me.”
― Mary on a Cross, by Ghost.

 

A strange, tense calm gripped Nevermore Academy in the days following Laurel Gates' fall from grace. The Queen Bee of the Academy had been dethroned in a way that was straight out of a horror movie and whoever was responsible had not made themselves known, given the obvious number of criminal charges they would be facing. This led to a power vacuum, as none of the girls in her social circle dared to reclaim Gates' “throne” at the school, fearful that accusations of being responsible for what had happened would fall on them.

This led to endless infighting and struggles for influence among the school's most popular and prominent alumnae. Ironically, this meant that many of them, bullies and manipulators of the same ilk as Laurel, were more busy stabbing each other in the back than making life miserable for the more unfortunate students or the few outcasts whose supernatural status was public.

So... peace of mind. Several days had already passed without anyone sending any hurtful comments or veiled insults to Yoko and Marilyn. Days with no one trying to provoke Enid's ire.

It was disconcerting.

That said, Wednesday couldn't help but admire the level of political intrigue and ruthless betrayal that could occur in the closed environment of a private academy.

But, truth be told, it wasn't a spectacle to which she had paid much attention. Under other circumstances that would have been the case, but these past few days, Wednesday Addams' focus was on something else. Someone else.

Steadily and steadily, Enid Saint-Clair had become the center of Wednesday's days and routine at Nevermore. The werecat had noticed the Addams' initial aloofness mixed with veiled interest and had embarked on her own personal crusade to establish a friendship with the new student. Whether she wanted it or not.

Of course, anyone could see that Saint-Clair's real interests in Addams went far beyond mere friendship, although she herself did not seem to want to admit it despite the fact that Addams could not disguise her own interest. Yoko and Marilyn had started their own betting pool as to which of the two would confess first.

Hillary Hillard, Wednesday's roommate, had curiously been one of the first to join the bet, sure of her victory by betting on the Addams.

“It's... strange. But since they've started hanging around together I don't get the feeling that she's going to kill me in my sleep. And sometimes I'd swear she even sighs!"

“She sighs?” asked Yoko.

“Yeah, one of those sighs of a beloved longing for her lost love or something,” Hillary replied, “She lets them slip out unintentionally and then she seems to get furious with herself and starts muttering things in Italian.”

Marilyn grabbed Yoko by the shoulder and began to shake the vampire effusively, “I told you! I told you so! It's only a matter of time before one of them makes the first move, and with all the Gates harpies distracted it's the best time to avoid being the center of all the local gossip.”

Yoko merely looked up, still with certain doubts in her head.

Enid and the Addams seemed to have become inseparable the last few days. It was noticeable that Enid had begun to spend more time with Wednesday than with the two of them. Neither Yoko nor Marilyn had been blind to the improvement in their friend's mood. Enid carried less tension than before, her natural aggressiveness had been reduced or at least better tempered.

Nevertheless, she still had her occasional episodes, as when on a visit to Jericho after the end of her punishment an Usher student had called her “kitten” in a futile attempt at romance doomed to crash and burn. It was an unwritten Nevermore rule, even among those willing to antagonize Enid, that she was not to be called by that nickname. It was an invitation to death or, at best, painful mutilation. Yoko and Marilyn had barely managed to restrain her before she disemboweled that poor Casanova wannabe in the middle of the main street.

“Kitten” was the nickname Enid's foster mother used to refer to her with insulting condescension camouflaged under false affection. It was something that drove the werecat crazy and not in a good way.

The irresponsible young man, for his part, continued to show little sense of self-preservation. Calling her a “crazy bitch” would not have been a smart move under any circumstances, but it was even less so with Wednesday Addams around to hear him.

In the end the boy did end up in the hospital, Wednesday got her first official reprimand at school, and Enid nearly smothered her in a monster hug that made Wednesday feel things she'd never felt before.

Like her vertebrae readjusting.

The bond between the two was obvious, but Yoko still wasn't sure if they would make it through without some outside help. Enid was a sociable creature, but she had her own insecurities and the vampire was sure her friend wouldn't try to take the next step if the Addams didn't take it first.

And Addams seemed to be more emotionally constipated than anyone would care to admit.

The vampire had no idea how close she was to hitting the nail on the head.

 

 

§§§

 

 

In the solitude of her room (Hillard had gone off to Hell knows where), Wednesday Addams sighed.

Of course. Of course her head was still a boiling mess.

She had come to Nevermore in search of a remote hope, chasing the ghost of an increasingly faded memory.

In her memories, Enid Sinclair's golden hair had grown progressively darker. The blue of her eyes alternated with the bright green of a wild animal. The sweet smile mutated into a sarcastic, sharp, psychotic laugh that made her shudder to the depths of her bones. The marrow inside her boiled passionately at that laugh.

After the initial shock, she had tried to keep her distance. Enid Saint-Clair was not Enid Sinclair. And even so, she could not conceal her growing interest in this different creature. And Enid had noticed it, initiating a first contact of her own.

Spiders. She gave me spiders. What woman would say no to such a lovely gesture?

Wednesday still felt the warmth of an incipient blush as she recalled the scene, the image of Enid Saint-Clair with arachnids descending from her hair and sporting a sharp-toothed smile had accompanied her in dreams more than one night.

Throughout their successive encounters, Wednesday began to realize that despite pronounced differences, Enid shared many of the same values as her dimensional counterpart.

Courage, loyalty, kindness.

She had seen it in how she defended her friends. In how she didn't back down in the face of threats. In the patience and consideration she was showing Wednesday day after day since their first formal meeting.

You might think such a revelation would be greeted with joy, or at least in the case of someone less than effusive, with relief. But Wednesday Addams' cauldron of unbalanced thoughts and emotions was reflecting a very different outcome.

Guilt.

She was being consumed by guilt.

And it was an unpleasant, uncomfortable feeling that did not bring the slightest bit of enjoyment. For someone who considered being miserable a state to aspire to under normal circumstances, the contrast was unnerving.

I have been selfish, she thought, No, I am being selfish. I have chased ghosts and proceeded to ignore the living before me. And now, I project upon my beloved the ghost of my old epiphany.

She had tried to put Enid on a pedestal born of daydreams fruit of an unrequited infatuation. Without realizing it, she had been constantly comparing Enid to her other self, assessing her against a standard of perfection that could not realistically be met rather than valuing her for who she was. Or worse, now that she was beginning to see her own qualities, Wednesday feared that she would unconsciously try to mold the other girl into something or someone she was not. Make the cat-who-is closer to the wolf-who-was. She could almost see it now...innocent comments on the one hand, incisive remarks on the other, suggestions to dye her hair. The very idea of causing such harm to Enid, however unintentional, repulsed her.

Causing someone harm had never repulsed her. If that was not a sign of...

But no, it can't be, she told herself, I'm not worthy of her. Enid deserves someone who isn't weighed down by the chains of a futile love, someone who can appreciate her for who she is from the beginning. Someone who can adore her, pay her the worship and reverence she truly deserves.

Wednesday came to the conclusion that there was only one possible end to all this, only one way forward to avoid absolute disaster.

She had to cut off all contact with Enid, immediately.

She must let her be free.

Of course, none of this followed the slightest logic, but in the back of her mind, convinced of her own lack of worth, Wednesday was making prophetic her mother's words that she was her own worst enemy.

 

 

§§§

 

 

The next day, on their way to the first class of the day, Enid ran to meet Wednesday Addams, leaving Yoko and Marilyn behind.

“Hey, Willa!”

And Wednesday proceeded to run past her, quickening her pace and ignoring the young feline. Ignoring her and the stares of all the onlookers who had just witnessed the unexpected scene, uncharacteristic of what had been the dynamic between the two of them the past few weeks.

“Willa?”

Enid was paralyzed, but only for an instant. Turning around she followed Wednesday with her eyes, the expression of pained surprise on her face giving way to something darker and hungrier with each passing moment.

“Nid?” whispered Marilyn, concerned. A soft growl had begun to reverberate in her friend's throat.

Enid Saint-Clair’s eyes flashed emerald.

 

 

§§§

 

 

One hour.

That's all what Wednesday Addams' resolution lasted before fate decided to intervene in the form of an angry feline.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves...

With the first class of the morning over, Wednesday was the last to leave the classroom. In her eagerness to cut off all contact with Enid to save her from her own perfidy, Wednesday had once again sat apart from the rest of the students, ignoring the occasional glances from Tanaka, Munster, Hillard and others. Curiously, Enid had not once turned around. Throughout the entire class, the feline had remained steadfast and with her attention focused on the teacher, ignoring Wednesday as much as Wednesday wished she could have ignored her.

It hurt a little.

Finally, with the teacher and the rest of the students already outside heading to the classroom for the second class of the morning, Wednesday joined them.

Although only a couple of minutes had passed, the hallway was already deserted in that part of the academy. The shoes of her school uniform echoed as she walked. An almost automatic walk, trying to remind herself of her purpose, trying to ignore the glint of pain she had glimpsed in Enid's eyes that morning. Moving along the hallway, Wednesday Addams was immersed in her own inner world.

As a result, her normally sharp reflexes failed to register in time the open classroom door and the hand that came out of it, grabbing Wednesday by the arm and dragging her inside.

Well, more like tossing her. The person who had grabbed her pulled on her with such force that Wednesday practically went flying until she landed sitting on one of the classroom desks. Her landing was followed by the sound of the door closing, and in the darkened classroom with the blinds drawn, Wednesday could see the glare of an angry Enid Saint-Clair's eyes on her.

She was a magnificent sight. Wednesday could almost feel her fury radiating from her. She was so engrossed that she almost didn't notice when Enid advanced enough to stand in front of her, face to face.

“So?” the werecat asked.

Wednesday said nothing, but something in her gaze must have caught Enid's attention, because the anger had been joined by genuine concern.

“Willa... Wednesday... What happened?”

I'm trying to save you, that's what happened. Save you from me. I'm unworthy of you, don't you understand? I've been comparing you to a ghost unfairly instead of valuing you as you deserve. And what you deserve is someone better than me.

None of those words were spoken, but in the future recalling this moment Wednesday Addams could almost have sworn that Enid had heard them, or that she had somehow been able to read them on her face and in her eyes.

Enid took a deep breath, calming herself. The green gleam in her eyes gave way again to their clear blue color, “Does this have to do with...your reasons?” she asked, “The ones you said you couldn't tell me yet?”

Wednesday, almost against her own will, nodded silently.

“Wednesday...Willa...why? It's like we're suddenly back to square one,” Enid said, not bothering to hide how much that one moment that morning had hurt,”From the first day you arrived it's like there's been this tug-of-war going on inside you about me, and I can see it's hurting you.”

Yes, but it's not your fault. Please don't think for a moment that it is your fault. You are but the innocent victim of my own falsehood.

A growl escaped Enid's throat.

“There it is again,” she said,”I can smell it coming off you, oozing out. Guilt. Why do you smell of guilt when there's no reason for it?"

“Enid...I...”

“Tell me, Willa,” Enid moved even closer to Wednesday, their faces were almost touching, their eyes were anchored with each other's, “Tell me everything. Let me help you.”

I'm not worthy of your help.

“That's for me to decide,” Enid replied, to the Addams' evident surprise,”And no, you didn't say that out loud, nor did I read your thought. It's just that I imagined what you'd be thinking and from your reaction it's obvious I got it right.”

Enid’s anger had all but disappeared, swept away by concern, and fear, but also by affection, caring, and...

Oh.

She loves me.

And in that moment, Wednesday Addams knew what she had to do.

“Enid,” Wednesday said,”What I'm about to tell you...you may very well not believe a single one of my miserable words. But it is the truth.”

And Wednesday Addams spoke. Her words loud, clear and without pause.

She told her how she had traveled to another reality, how she had met other variants of herself and a version of Enid that had forced her to examine herself and open herself to possibilities she had never considered until then.

She told Enid how she decided to go to Nevermore in search of the ghost of a memory, a kind and gentle but also monstrous goddess. How it had been selfish and cruel of her to expect Enid to be an exact replica of someone else.

How it was therefore best that Enid should forget her. For she, Wednesday Addams, was a coward and a hypocrite and no longer worthy of her love. Neither of her friendship, even.

And when it was over and all was said and done, she dared not look Enid in the eye. She did not have the courage to face the rejection, disdain or anger that undoubtedly shone in those jewels that adorned her beautiful face. A face that no doubt reflected disbelief at what she had just heard.

And then, Enid began to laugh.

Wednesday looked up, perplexed by the scene in front of her. Enid was laughing, her laughter crystalline, clear and joyful.

A laugh that soon turned to roars and growls. That sound was joined by the tearing of skin and clothing, the accelerated growth of fur, the creaking of bones growing and shifting, the unpleasant and delicious sound of internal organs writhing.

And a final, triumphant roar. Before Wednesday Addams there was no longer a girl but a beast, leaning over her with the intensity that only a predator could evoke.

She was tall. Through the remains of the tattered school uniform, brown tabby fur was visible, not unlinke that of a werewolf. Her body was still humanoid but with arms longer than the legs and hunched, suggesting the possibility of moving on all fours if needed. The movement of powerful muscles could be appreciated under that fur. Her hands were actually paws, disproportionately large and thick-fingered, hiding retractable claws that were not constantly extended like those of a lycanthrope. She also had a long, thin tail.

But the real masterpiece was her face. A feline head of a saber-toothed tiger. Huge, disproportionate fangs, long as daggers, protruded from a mouth that could crush Wednesday's skull with a single bite if she wanted to.

Wednesday's throat had gone dry from sheer excitement. By pure instinct, without realizing it, her right hand reached up to caress one of those portentous fangs as her eyes focused on Saint-Clair's.

Green, feline eyes glowing with an inner, wild fire. Eyes that stole Wednesday Addams' breath. Eyes that she could almost imagine in the primordial darkness, reflecting the fire of the first bonfires. Those were the eyes of the first hunter, of the first night terror that haunted mankind in ancient times. The eyes of the monster that caused humanity's atavistic fear of the dark. They were the eyes of a monstrous goddess, and now they were fixed on her.

Wednesday caressed the fang and the feline face before her, whispering “Cara mia...”

And then, suddenly and with a sound of displaced air as her mass suddenly shrank, the beast vanished almost in seconds and Wednesday found herself face to face again with Enid Saint-Clair. A half-naked Enid Saint-Clair, dressed in the remaining rags of her tattered uniform and sitting right now on the Addams' lap.

This time Wednesday could neither contain nor conceal the redness in her cheeks nor the dilation of her pupils at those flashes of pale skin beneath the tattered fabric.

Enid smiled. And her smile was kind and warm. But also mischievous and hungry. And sincere.

She leaned forward, once more with her face nearly touching Wednesday's. Something indecipherable shining in her eyes as she spoke.

“Am I monstrous enough for you?”

Wednesday opened her mouth. She would have liked to answer with a resounding yes. Repeat it a thousand times, until she was exhausted.

But she couldn't.

Because at that precise moment Enid Saint-Clair took her face in her hands and her lips collided against Wednesday Addams' in a hungry kiss of animalistic desire.

 

 

NOTES

Oh my... 👀

Well, after a brief stumble of angst brought on by Woe's internal neuroses, things are finally back on track and in the right direction.

Again, I will never write smut outright. But I leave you with the brief prelude and let your little brains do the rest...

Mosaic art from InvertColor's Kooky Spooky fanart!