October 15, 19XX.
The rain was still falling like a curtain of tears, because it's an effective cliché that makes it clear that daring to walk the streets without an umbrella was an invitation to drown.
Luckily, Pugsley had brought the car.
Shark's presence had come as a small (big) shock to Detectives Addams and Sinclair, but the promise of more answers and a reasonably coherent explanation had kept them calm enough as they left the building's lobby and stepped out into the rainy night.
The Addams Family car was there, with Lurch standing at the open rear door waiting for his passengers to arrive, ignoring the rain pouring down on him and the suspicious glances of the police officers and patrol cars that still surrounded the area, illuminating it with flashing red and blue lights.
“Uuurmgh,” said the frankenstein-like giant. To anyone else, it would have been an unintelligible growl, but to those present, it was a polite greeting, loud and clear. Shark responded with a gentle smile, and Detective Addams with a simple nod of her head. Detective Sinclair was more effusive, smiling broadly and showing her sharp wolf-like fangs as she did so, “Howdie, Lurch!”
The three proceeded to get into the back seats of the converted hearse while Pugsley got into the front passenger seat. The detectives were surprised to see that there were already two other people waiting inside the car, with Shark quickly sitting right between them.
Detective Addams immediately focused her attention on them.
The first one to catch her eye was the male. It was difficult to determine his age because, almost instinctively, Detective Addams could sense that he was a lycanthrope, and they tended to age more gracefully than many normies. In any case, he must have been at least in his forties. He was blond with familiar blue eyes that stood out on a kind face that was also strangely recognizable, even though she had never seen him before. He was dressed simply, in jeans and a sweater that would have been baggy on anyone else but clung to his torso, barely concealing his muscular build.
The woman was also middle-aged, with an outfit and hairstyle screaming “goth-punk” that one would expect to see on someone younger, though in a way that wasn't exaggerated but natural and part of who she was, with a face that reflected nervousness but also an ironclad confidence. She was tall and thin, with a slender physique that in her youth would surely have seemed gangly and awkward, the kind of person whose arms and legs grew out of proportion to the rest of her body before settling into adulthood. At first glance, Detective Addams might have thought she was a normie, but she immediately recognized that kooky “something” that only an Addams could have, even if it wasn't by blood.
Actually, they both had it, which was most interesting.
With everyone inside and the doors locked, Lurch proceeded to start the car, racing off down the wet streets in a manner that many doctors would not recommend for anyone with heart problems, or pregnant women.
“Woah, any reason for taking off like that?” asked Detective Sinclair.
“Safety,” Pugsley replied from the front passenger seat, “Our guests can explain better.”
At that moment, the blond man leaned forward slightly, sniffing the air in front of the two detectives.
“Damn, you two smell like blood. A lot of it,” he said.
“I know, right?” asked Shark. “I noticed it too as soon as I saw them.”
“Well, who are you guys?” asked Detective Sinclair.
“Ah, yes, hello... my name is Eamon Sinclair-Addams, and strange as it may seem, I am a version of you.”
Detective Sinclair looked him up and down, one eyebrow raised. “You're me?”
“Yes.”
“You are me, if I had been born...”
“With a different chromosome configuration, yes,” laughed Eamon.
There was a moment of silence, although Detective Addams could swear she could almost hear the mischievous smile that undoubtedly graced Pugsley's face.
“Wow... I'm a hunk,” whispered Detective Sinclair.
Shark and the other woman began to laugh hysterically as Eamon brought his hand up to his face.
“And again...,” he muttered.
“It never fails! It never fails!” exclaimed Shark, “Every female Enid counterpart who has ever met you says the same thing!”
“Saint-Clair didn't say it!” Eamon replied.
“No, she just said you were a dish, which is almost worse,” laughed the gothic-looking woman. “Anyway, I think it's my turn to introduce myself. I'm...”
“You're Parker Needler,” Detective Addams interrupted, looking at her analytically.
“Wow, okay, yes... Needler-Addams, actually,” Parker said, “I assume you know me, or you know my local variant.”
“No, not really, at least not in person,” explained Detective Addams, “But Margaux Needler was a notorious crime boss in the city's underworld about fifteen years ago, before she made a notorious mistake.”
“What mistake?” asked Parker.
“Getting involved in our family's business without permission,” replied Pugsley, “It was quite a spectacle.”
“Ah, yes, I remember that, the scandal involving surveillance systems and bribery,” added Detective Sinclair.
“My mother was a mob boss in this reality?” said Parker, sounding both incredulous and amused. “Heh, that’s almost more respectable than my version.”
The two detectives looked at her curiously. It was Eamon who replied, “Real estate landlord.”
Two simultaneous “Ah” of recognition (Sinclair’s almost an “Ew”) escaped from the two detectives.
“Well, now that everyone's introduced, I think it's time we started talking about why we're here,” Shark suddenly interjected. Although she was the youngest of the three visitors, clearly only in her early twenties, the two detectives immediately noticed that she had somehow naturally assumed a leadership role.
Typical of a Wednesday, thought Detective Addams, not without a certain pride in the other versión of herself.
And so, during the next few minutes of the car ride, Shark managed to explain the key points of the situation to the local Wednesday and Enid.
“...and that brings us to now,” concluded the young Addams, “We decided that returning to the Addams Mansion was too predictable, like painting a target on our backs, and that keeping on the move for at least a while was the safest thing to do.”
“Ah, I knew we were taking a long time to get to the manor,” observed Detective Sinclair, “Lurch has been driving around the city randomly for quite some time.”
“Uuuuugh,” growled the aforementioned driver.
“It's a good plan, assuming those Normalcy Nine don't have the means to materialize inside a moving vehicle,” said Detective Addams.
“Oh, that would be bad, no doubt,” replied Shark, though with a hungry smile of anticipation, almost as if she were hoping something like that would happen.
“Well, we can't rule it out as impossible, but we think it's unlikely,” Parker said, somewhat more nervously, “At least we hope so.”
“Mmm,” Detective Sinclair muttered, crossing her arms and frowning.
“Something on your mind?” Detective Addams asked.
“No... yes... well, it's just that...”
“Thrill me, lobita.”
“The whole story is utterly bollocks,” declared the werewolf Detective.
“You don't... believe us?” Parker asked.
“Oh, I believe you. You're not lying, I can tell, and this stuff about counterparts of ourselves from other realities isn't the weirdest thing I've encountered in my extended contact with the Addams Family... it's just... well, the whole thing it's completely ridiculous.”
“I think I'm lost,” Eamon said.
“I mean… Why?”, asked Detective Sinclair.
“Uh... because they want to restore their version of normality to the multiverse and believe they can do so by eliminating every reality in which any iteration of the Addams family exists?” Parker replied.
“Yes, yes... that's the official version, so to speak. And it's complete bollocks,” Detective Sinclair continued, “Restore normality to the multiverse? And their plan to do that is by murdering people in a way that erases entire realities? That's all stupid and nonsensical, or at least it would be if it weren't for all the existential horror it's causing me just to think about it.”
“Thank you very much for that, by the way, it's very enjoyable," added Detective Addams.
“The whole thing reeks of hypocrisy. A true champion of normality would realize that an operation of this kind would put them in the same category as those they are trying to destroy,” said Detective Sinclair.
“They're zealots,” Shark said, “Fanatics driven by hatred, prejudice, and resentment. I think it's obvious that optimal reasoning has never been part of the equation.”
“And that explains part of it, but it still doesn't fully answer my question: Why?” replied Detective Sinclair, “Why Wednesday Addams?”
An uncomfortable silence fell inside the vehicle, broken only by the roar of the engine and the sound of rain falling on the roof of the car.
“That's... uh...” Eamon muttered, suddenly thoughtful.
“Think about it,” continued the she-wolf detective, “To do what they want... wouldn't any member of the Addams family do? Wouldn't it be enough to find a way to destroy the universe in general? Why does it have to be the death of a Wednesday Addams that triggers it? Why is she the key? What's the reason for it?”
“That's... that's a good question, we never even stopped to think about it,” Parker said, “Why the hell didn't we stop to think about it?”
“Because we immediately bought into the story we were told and were thrown into other realities randomly and suddenly, instilling in us a sense of urgency that didn't invite reflection,” Shark said. “It's... unnerving.”
“But... there has to be some reason, right?” asked Eamon. “I mean... between what Morningstar told us and Amanda's story...”
“Amanda wasn't lying, but she didn't have any more answers than we did,” Shark interrupted. “We know that the murder of the Wednesdays is the trigger that starts the spread of the Nothing, erasing the affected universe, but Detective Sinclair is right... why is that specifically?”
“What do we know for sure?” asked Detective Addams.
“Whatever the reason...” Shark began, “Wednesdays tend to be... brilliant, in one way or another.”
“Exceptional,” said the detective.
“And I won't deny that there are versions of us where that translates into a healthy dose of self-centeredness and narcissism, and that more than one of us probably believes she's the center of her own universe...” observed Shark.
“Probably the ones who don't have a partner,” Parker said. “A Wednesday with a partner tends to think that their beloved is the center of the universe.”
“Is that an attack on my single self?” Shark asked, amused.
“But egos aside, there's no reason why any version of us should be cosmically significant,” continued Detective Addams, “Not even all of us collectively.”
“What about Wednesday?” asked Parker. “Well, the other Wednesday... er... you know, Weds.”
“Sister Wednesday?” said Shark. “She's exceptional, and I'd love to have her detective skills here, but her cosmic relevance is more of a side effect of Enid being the Volvaugr.”
“Me being the what?” asked Detective Sinclair.
“Another Enid,” explained Parker. “And it's... complicated.”
“Ugh, I just had a terrible idea,” muttered Eamon.
“What is it?” asked Detective Addams, focusing her attention on the other werewolf, almost as if she could sense that another piece of the puzzle was about to be uncovered.
“Years ago, we got caught up in... well, a crisis or adventure, or whatever you want to call it, between different universes,” Eamon began. “Wednesdays from different realities were being kidnapped by an individual named...”
“The Bright One,” continued Shark, with a strangely neutral tone in his voice.
“The Bright One? Who is that?” asked Detective Sinclair.
Eamon and Parker responded immediately at the same time, “You don't want to know.”
“There was nothing cosmically significant about The Bright One's motivations,” Shark said. “Her obsession with capturing the Wednesdays was the result of madness; it was personal.”
“Personal, you say,” Detective Addams said.
“What are you implying?” Shark asked.
“In your story, you mentioned how Mr. Morningstar had a particular theory about the Normalcy Nine, right?”
“That they had someone directing them from the shadows, a mastermind...” Parker added, before exchanging a nervous glance with Eamon. “Eamon, you're not going to tell me that...”
“I told you it was a terrible idea.”
“It cannot be,” Shark replied quietly.
“The reason Wednesdays are the primary target is not something cosmic. It is personal,” Detective Wednesday said, “And moving from kidnapping to murder may be understandable as part of an organized vendetta.”
“It can't be her,” Shark repeated, trying to ignore the chill that was beginning to form down her spine.
It was something she would normally enjoy. Hell, she had thoroughly enjoyed fighting The Bright One back in the day, but now, nine years later and more mature, she was more aware of the consequences of what the present conversation implied, and it wasn't a pleasant thought.
“Are you absolutely sure about that?” asked Detective Addams.
“We saw her die,” Shark replied, “Eamon and I were there, along with six other Wednesdays, other Enids, and other members of the family. I saw Sister Friday plunge her dagger into her rotten heart, killing her after a fight like few I've ever been involved in.”
“Then she's dead.”
“Absolutely,”
“So what?” asked Detective Addams.
The question baffled the others. Even Detective Sinclair looked at her partner with a canine tilt of her head.
“Er... what do you mean?” asked Parker.
“I'd like to know that too, sis,” Pugsley chimed in from the front passenger seat. Until then, he had remained silent, absorbing everything that had been discussed, but the way his sister had asked that question alarmed even him.
“We are Addams,” said the detective, “We know that death is not something to be feared. It can be a nuisance at times, something unwanted or very inappropriate depending on the circumstances, but it is not something we truly fear. Because we, more than anyone else, know that...”
“...death is just another step,” said Shark, “Not an end.”
“Not an end,” repeated Detective Addams, “Certainly not for those driven by obsession, revenge, or enough willpower, so I'll ask you again...”
Detective Addams leaned forward, her gaze locked on Shark's, both of them unblinking. One could almost feel the electricity in the air generated by the tension between them.
“Are you absolutely sure that The Bright One is finished?”
NOTES
Could it be? Could it really be her after all? It's still too early to say anything for sure, my dear victims... I mean, readers. My dear readers.
Time will tell!
Art in the mosaic by Karen Acobs (@thatwomanlovingpotatofromtwitter in Tumblr).
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