It wasn't like a shiver. Over the years, shivers had begun to feel almost pleasant.
It happened right after Enid Addams knocked out the Hyde known as Tyler Galpin, while he was still in the process of returning to his human form before the astonished eyes of the Nevermore students who had witnessed the entire scene and were still trying to process the image of a larger-than-normal werewolf transformed in broad daylight.
She felt it on the back of her neck, at the base of her skull. That unpleasant, alarming sensation that many people feel when someone is secretly watching them.
But this was something else. All the she-wolf's fur stood on end from a strange feeling of alarm.
Enid turned around, looking up at the window of Weems' office from where she had jumped. She couldn't see Weds, neither her adult self nor her teenage variant. Nor could she see her own younger self. But she could clearly see Principal Weems, her frantic movements and the look of surprise, concern and terror on her face.
Enid immediately realized what was happening and prepared to jump toward the window, fearing she might not make it in time.
At that moment, a visible glow appeared in the window, like a flash of intense light.
And a scream followed.
§§§
Previously…
Wrapped in a red cloak that did little to conceal the Puritan hat on his head, Joseph Crackstone (or rather, a Joseph Crackstone) was wielding a silver scepter, the tip of which had begun to crackle with an unnatural discharge of energy, pointing toward the two Wednesdays.
Wednesday realized that even if she threw the dagger and hit him squarely between the eyes, Crackstone would shoot the moment he saw her move her arm. And she couldn't risk counting on the mere hope that he would miss the first shot, not at that short distance.
But she had to do something, because he was going to shoot anyway.
And now…
In the end, she didn't have to do anything.
You see, being small is both a curse and a blessing. But in the life experience of Thing T. Thing, also known as Thing Addams, it was above all a tactical advantage, because it was so absurdly easy to forget his presence.
Sneaking out was easy. Jumping from Teen Wednesday's shoulder to the decorative sculpture on the fireplace in Weems' office right after entering the room was even easier.
And doing what he was about to do, when his family was in danger, was absurdly easy.
Thing leaped with a speed and power that few would expect from a living human hand. In midair, he gathered the strength of a fist that struck an unsuspecting Joseph Crackstone squarely in the jaw with the force of a heavyweight boxer's punch.
The impact is so strong that Crackstone stumbles and is about to fall after his head is jerked back like a whiplash from the punch he received.
His weapon fires, a sickly green glow bursting from his scepter like a beam of oozing energy on a diverted trajectory that misses any living target but leaves a smoldering mark on the wall of Weems' office right next to the window, several inches above any of his intended targets.
Credit must be given where credit is due. The Puritan, who in this variant did not appear to be a revenant resurrected by magical rituals but a normal, ordinary man of flesh and blood, quickly recovered from the punch.
His gaze immediately fixed on the living severed hand that now lay on the ground right in front of him.
“Thou... damned thing...”
Thing responded with an obscene gesture using his middle finger. Even Crackstone seemed to recognize it, despite being an individual from another era.
“Thou little abomination!” shouted the incensed puritan, as he prepared to point his scepter at the living hand, “Thou'll be the first to go to hell!”
Weds and Teen Wednesday prepared to intervene, daggers in hand and with the firm resolve to turn Crackstone into a living pincushion, but once again someone beat them to it.
Crackstone couldn't shoot, because the wrist of the hand holding the scepter was grabbed by another hand with nails painted in bright colors and sharp as claws, squeezing like a clamp and breaking the man's bones as if they were pieces of soft, fragile cardboard.
The scepter fell from Crackstone's hand to the floor, remaining inert.
And from Crackstone's throat escapes an agonized scream that turns into wet gurgles as sharp teeth accompanied by a wolfish growl tear a piece of flesh from his throat, which Teen Enid immediately spits out in disgust, just before dropping the dying Puritan onto the floor of Weems' office, in a pool of his own blood gushing profusely from his jugular and carotid.
The expression on those present is one of genuine surprise more than anything else, Bianca being the only one to break the silence with an alarmed “Holy shit!!”.
Thing had to take a few steps back to avoid the growing pool of blood.
Teen Enid, meanwhile, seemed to be in a trance, her eyes shining with a wild gleam and panting as if she had just run a marathon or lifted a weight of several tons, all her muscles still tense and her claws extended. Traces of Crackstone's blood still oozed from her lips, falling onto her school uniform and splattering it with scarlet drops.
Faced with such an image, Teen Wednesday experienced a series of thoughts and feelings that would keep her awake for several nights. But she was also the first to pull herself together, taking a step toward her roommate.
“Enid?” she asked, cautiously and with a certain concern that she didn't bother to hide.
Enid flinched, as if she had just been awakened. She seemed disoriented for a few seconds before focusing her gaze first on Teen Wednesday, then on Weds, Bianca, Weems, and Thing. After that, her attention turned fully to the corpse at her feet and the strange, metallic taste in her mouth.
“W... Wednesday?” she muttered, suddenly paler than usual and looking at her roommate with tears welling up in her eyes and what appeared to be the beginnings of a panic attack. Teen Wednesday approached her, practically without stopping to think about her next actions.
It was at that moment that a half-transformed Enid Addams entered again through the open window, startling Weems. The adult werewolf stared at the scene in surprise before exchanging a quick glance with her wife, who simply nodded gravely.
The werewolf looked back at the teenagers. The young version of her wife tentatively hugging her tearful teenage self.
“Oh, fuck,” Enid Addams muttered.
§§§
For Teen Enid, the next few minutes were somewhat blurred.
Well, no. That wasn't quite the right way to describe it, because some details were vividly clear. But overall, it felt as if her body had been on autopilot after the intruder appeared and the subsequent feelings of rage, possessiveness, and protectiveness that flooded her when she saw Wednesday in danger, the unexpected taste of blood, the sensation of arms wrapping around her...
Wednesday gave me a hug!
Yes, the perfectly understandable initial panic after killing someone seemed to disappear suddenly in the face of this new reality that still felt so unreal.
But overall, everything had happened very quickly.
Her adult variant, accompanied by Thing, had taken them back to their room in Ophelia Hall's tower while the adult Wednesday stayed behind with Weems and Bianca for a few minutes before meeting up with them later.
Where is Bianca? Is she still with Weems? Oh dear, I hope none of this ends up in the sirens' gossip chain.
The two adults had explained all the details concerning Marilyn Thornhill (who hilariously awoke from her unconsciousness in Weems' office to see the corpse of the interdimensional Joseph Crackstone and began to cry hysterically before being knocked out again by a satisfied Weds), her use and abuse of Tyler, and Tyler's actions as a Hyde.
The young man had not yet awakened when the authorities finally arrived.
Teen Enid didn't know what they did with the body of the intruder who had apparently come from another universe to kill Wednesday. The adult Wednesday mentioned that Weems would take care of everything, almost as if to imply that her school principal had experience in making bodies disappear.
Teen Wednesday made a sound suspiciously similar to a stifled laugh of sarcastic mockery.
And so there they were at that moment, the four of them alone in their room, while Principal Weems took care of all the legal circus that had formed. The two teenagers sat on their respective beds while their adult selves sat in their desk chairs.
“You don't have to worry,” said Weds, holding a silver sphere in her hand, apparently Crackstone's scepter, which had changed shape when she picked it up from the ground. “Weems will take care of everything and move Heaven and Earth to shield you both and Barclay from any unwanted repercussions.”
“And even if they smell something fishy, the revelation of Tyler and Thornhill's actions gives them a good scapegoat,” Enid added.
“Won't there be questions about the huge werewolf that intervened in broad daylight?” Teen Wednesday asked, inquisitively.
“Officially, it will be a good Samaritan in an act of vigilantism who left the scene shortly thereafter,” Weds said.
“And they're going to believe that?” Teen Enid asked incredulously.
Enid Addams shrugged, “They don't have much to go on once Weds and I leave. And frankly, considering the quality of Jericho's law enforcement...”
“Oh, understandable then,” said Teen Wednesday.
“To be honest, I'm still thinking about...” Teen Enid began, before putting her hand over her mouth. “Well, you know... about... Oh God...”
Enid Addams stepped forward, rising from her chair and approaching Teen Enid. She took the young woman by the shoulders and helped her to her feet. She glanced quickly at the two Wednesdays before leading her younger self to a more secluded corner of the room.
“Okay, calm down, breathe,” she said, whispering softly as she gently rubbed the girl's back.
Teen Enid took a deep breath. The nervous tremor in her body subsided, but her face was still marked by an expression of anguish... “I... I...”
“You killed someone,” whispered Enid Addams, “And given the circumstances, it was the right thing to do.”
Teen Enid turned to her adult self, looking at her incredulously, “But, but...”
“What you're feeling is the same thing I felt the first time I slit someone's throat, and for the same reasons,” said Enid Addams. "Killing is wrong... if you do it indiscriminately, if you do it to innocent people or people who don't deserve it or people who don't want it, if you enjoy it so much that you don't want to do anything else... But don't forget one thing, mini-me."
Teen Enid frowned slightly, and seeing that shift from nervousness and trauma to healthy irritability was considered a small triumph by Enid Addams.
“Don't call me mini-me,” Teen Enid replied in a whisper, “Please,” she added.
Enid Addams laughed softly, “As I was saying, there's something you mustn't forget,” she continued, “We're not normies, Enid. We're monsters. We're werewolves. And there's nothing a werewolf won't do to protect those she considers her own.”
Teen Enid froze, this time for a very different reason, as a slight blush colored her cheeks. “But Wednesday isn't...”
“Shhh,” said Enid, poking her younger counterpart's nose. “She is. She's your pack. She has been since that conversation on the balcony, even though neither of you realized it at the time.”
A small wolfish whimper escaped Teen Enid's mouth. Enid Addams gently placed her hands on her shoulders, looking at her younger self with the steadfast gentleness of a mother.
“Enid,” she said, "You mustn't take this as something you have to resign yourself to. It is not an obligation or a path marked out for your life. What happened to my Weds and me will not happen to you; we have changed things too much with our visit here. But what you do will be the result of your actions and decisions. The path that awaits you is yours, and whether you walk it together or not, she will always be your pack."
While the two Enids whispered to each other, the two Wednesdays waited on the other side of the room in a deliciously uncomfortable silence broken only by the occasional drumming of Thing's fingers on Teen Wednesday's desk.
It was Weds who broke the silence first. “I feel compelled to apologize again,” she said.
Teen Wednesday looked at her with her arms crossed and one eyebrow slightly raised, “It seems that apologizing is becoming a despicable habit.”
“But useful, it makes many undesirable social interactions easier and shorter,” said Weds, “But I stand by it. I imagine that the whole resolution of recent events must have been frustrating.”
“Because it would be for you if you were in my place.”
“Exactly.”
Teen Wednesday looked away from her adult self and closed her eyes momentarily before taking a breath, as if gathering her thoughts before speaking again. “I admit that the resolution of the mystery has been... anticlimactic in a way. Being a mere spectator detracts from the satisfaction, however interesting it may be to see the pieces fall into place.”
“But that's not all,” added Weds, urging her to continue.
“The new possibilities for existential horror that your presence brings are very exciting,” said the teenage Addams, just before momentarily resting her eyes on the two Enids, “And there are other... personal considerations that I don't think I can discuss at this time.”
Weds simply nodded in understanding.
Thing, on the other hand, seemed to have something to say, gesturing vigorously.
Teen Wednesday looked at the living hand with an almost murderous expression. “No, we're not going to discuss it. And not a word to Mother and Father.”
At that moment, the two Enids approached them again after giving each other one last hug. Teen Enid seemed much calmer and, Weds dared to hazard a guess, perhaps a little more confident.
“Well, I think we've said all we need to say to each other,” said Enid Addams, winking at her wife and the teenage version of the petite Addams. Weds stood up, tucking Crackstone's silver sphere into one of her pockets before beginning to check the multiversal travel device on her left wrist.
“What are you going to do now?” asked Teen Enid.
“With Crackstone neutralized, technically our mission here has been accomplished, although we can't be one hundred percent sure,” explained Weds.
“The problem is that we can't stay here indefinitely either,” said Enid Addams. “There are some things back home that I'm worried about.”
Day. Rissa.
“That's why we're going to leave,” Weds said, before turning to her wife, “I was thinking that I could go back to our home and make sure everything is okay while you return to Morningstar’s place.”
Enid Addams flashed a smile full of sharp teeth, “Oh, yes, I have a few choice words for that bastard for throwing us into another universe without warning.”
And so, it was time to say goodbye.
“Stay alert,” Weds said to the two teenagers, before addressing Teen Wednesday specifically, “Trust your visions, but don't abuse them or try to force them.”
“If you start crying black tears, refrain from psychic activities for a while,” said Enid Addams. “Mini-me, if she starts crying black tears, give her a good smack on the back of the head.”
Teen Enid growled again, though without malice. “Seriously, don't call me that.”
Enid Addams just laughed as she checked her own multiversal travel device. "Sorry, sorry, it's just that sometimes I miss being so small. There are lots of cute clothes I can't wear with my current size. Oh, and if Esther gives you trouble in the future...“ The adult wolf glanced at Teen Wednesday this time, ”Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc."
Teen Wednesday opened her eyes slightly in what could have been surprise or understanding, but her only response was a nod.
Weds and Enid took one last look at their younger selves before exchanging another glance between themselves. Enid gave the girls one last smile and waved to Thing, and finally the two adult Addams activated their devices.
There was a brief flash of light as something resembling luminous doors opened momentarily behind each of them, vanishing as soon as they crossed through, leaving behind a smell of ozone and the sound of displaced air, like the snap of a finger.
Teenage Wednesday and Enid stared at the spot where their adult counterparts had been seconds before. Their young minds were still buzzing with questions and doubts, but they had also gained some clarity on many things, even if it was still too early to discuss them openly.
Even so, there was something Teen Enid couldn't resist.
“So... are you a hugging person now?” she asked, with a shy smile.
Teen Wednesday glanced at her sideways, keeping her arms crossed as if clinging to a lifeline, an almost imperceptible expression crossing her face. “It was an impulsive act, driven by pure necessity to curb your incipient hysteria. Don't expect it to become a habit.”
Teen Enid simply nodded, the smile not quite disappearing from her face. “As I expected. Well, despite everything... thank you.”
“You're welcome,” Teen Wednesday murmured.
“By the way, what my other self said to you before she left, after mentioning my mother... That was Latin, wasn't it?” asked Teen Enid. “What does it mean?”
Teen Wednesday turned to her with an indecipherable expression and a gleam in her dark eyes that Enid couldn't describe, but which was undoubtedly charged with... something. It was as if an electric current had been established between the two of them, and somewhere deep in the young werewolf's mind and soul, something howled.
“You'll know what it means,” said Teen Wednesday, with an unexpectedly soft tone in her voice, “In due time, cucciola.”
Okay. And what the hell does that mean??
NOTES
And with this chapter, the mini-arc of The Once and Future is officially closed. This is something that will happen with the following mini-arcs of this multiversal diaspora before everything starts to come together again before... well, spoilers.
Some translation!
cucciola: (italian) puppy.
