[Wednesday POV]
The next morning, I sat at my typewriter, the rhythm of the keys broken by constant, infuriating interruptions.
The kind of interruptions only Enid Sinclair could produce — the frantic shuffle of fabric, the crash of hangers, the cloying fog of perfume thick enough to choke a corpse.
"Enid," I said, without looking away from my half-finished paragraph, "just choose something before you asphyxiate us both."
A squeak escaped from the closet, followed by another clatter. "But he invited us to the Harvest Festival! I want to look perfect!"
"An impossible goal," I murmured, returning to my writing.
The knock at our door came precisely when my momentum died. Naturally. I didn't bother turning around when it opened.
"Morning, girls," Perseus said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
What followed was the usual ritual: Enid bubbling words like a shaken soda can, Perseus acknowledging her with the faintest nod. He barely looked at her, and she practically glowed from the scraps.
He led us outside to where his Fiat Panda 4x4 was parked. The thing looked as though it had been dragged out of some abandoned mountain village in Eastern Europe and forced to survive every war known to man.
Around it gathered a cluster of mildly confused and faintly horrified faces — Xavier, Divina, Yoko, Bianca, and Ajax. They stared at the box-shaped relic with the same expression one reserves for roadkill that twitches.
Without a word, I slid into the front passenger seat beside Perseus. I refuse to be squeezed into the back row with three others, forced to endure small talk. Divina and Yoko climbed onto the rear bench, one practically sitting on the other, while Enid and Bianca wedged themselves in beside them, already bickering over glitter lip balm.
Xavier blinked at the arrangement, one brow raised. "You said we could ride with you. This thing barely holds five people."
Perseus, without missing a beat, popped open the back hatch. "There's still room."
Ajax and Xavier exchanged a look, two men resigned to share a coffin.
"I hate this already," Ajax muttered, but climbed in anyway. Xavier sighed and followed.
Once everyone was crammed together like badly stacked luggage, Bianca arched a perfect brow at Perseus.
"You're rich. Why are you driving a metal shoebox and not a Ferrari or Porsche?"
Perseus smiled as he turned the key. The engine rattled to life like an asthmatic chainsaw.
"Because unlike overpriced toys, this one drives over rocks, mud, and shallow rivers. I can park it anywhere. And I don't have to cry if it gets scratched. Utility over pretense."
Bianca rolled her eyes. "You mean over taste."
"He can't even drive bigger cars," Divina cut in with a laugh. "He only managed to get a learner's permit through contacts."
He didn't bother correcting her. He just glanced back at her in the mirror, silent, then pressed the accelerator.
The Fiat shuddered and groaned as we rattled down the road to Jericho.
Fifteen minutes later, the Fiat spat us out onto the edge of Jericho and its Harvest Festival.
The Harvest Festival was a gaudy parade of forced cheer — smiling families stuffing fried food into their mouths, pretending their lives weren't collapsing under the weight of their secrets. Strings of lights burned too brightly. The music was cloying. And every townsperson who saw us stared as if we were part of the entertainment.
I trailed behind Perseus and Enid, ignoring their chatter, resisting the urge to dismantle a rigged ring-toss booth just to watch the vendor despair.
Enid dragged us toward a stand selling caramel skulls. Perseus humored her by buying one. I resisted the temptation to comment on the irony of gnawing on sugar in the shape of human remains.
That was when a boy stepped into my path. His hair was the color of dirty straw, his smile rehearsed, as though he'd practiced it in the mirror until it became a weapon.
"Hey," he said. "I'm Tyler. You look like you'd rather be anywhere else. Want some company?"
Before I could respond, the temperature dropped. The air turned sharp, brittle — the kind of cold that kills crops before dawn.
I turned my head. Perseus was watching him. His stare alone screamed death.
Tyler's grin faltered. He tried to hold Perseus's gaze, but his laugh came out thin, strangled, like he'd swallowed glass. The boy shifted on his feet, then muttered something about the cider stand before stumbling away.
I slipped my arm into Perseus's. "Jealous?"
"Not really," he said, biting into the apple with a crack of teeth. Juice slid down his knuckle like a crimson tear. "I just wanted to kill someone."
I smiled at that, thin and sharp, and tightened my grip on his arm.
I didn't expect jealousy from him. I almost enjoy it.
"I need to check something. Give me your car keys."
"Sure, Darkling." He handed them over without hesitation.
I brushed a kiss against his cheek, then turned toward the Fiat.
Festivals are for the living. I was heading somewhere far more interesting.
************
Author Note:
But Tyler and Wednesday already met before in the TV series, blah blah… nope.
In my story, Wednesday never went to that normie school where she "accidentally" released piranhas in the swimming pool. So she was never sentenced to psychiatric hours in Jericho, and therefore never met Tyler, since she had no reason to run away from there or plot an escape from Jericho.
Every decision taken reshapes the future.
Also, enjoy the extra chapter… or is it? hahahah