The Addams suite was dim, Curtains pulled tight, keeping Miami's neon out like an unwanted guest. The room smelled faintly of salt air and polished wood, with an undercurrent of something sharp and chemical Morticia had left to brew in a decanter.
Outside, the city throbbed with music, bass lines rolling in from the streets, horns and drums weaving like heartbeats.
The adults had claimed the lounge, trading wine for nostalgia. Their laughter was dark honey, dripping with stories only the Addams family would call "fond memories." filled with phrases like "…and that time the gargoyle screamed for three days straight…", "…remember when the dorm burned down? Glorious.", "ah...that time we dug up the wrong grave".
Behind another door the kids had their own kind of entertainment.
Valen sat cross-legged on the carpet, watching as Wednesday sat at the low table, braids hanging over her shoulders like ropes. She calmly produced a tin tray and a coil of entrails like she was setting up a tea party.
The lamp above threw sickly yellow light. The entrails gleamed wet, catching it like some obscene jewelry.
Pugsley leaned in, eyes wide with anticipation, already fidgeting with matches. Thing crawled closer, two fingers pointing up, sleeves somehow rolled up, ready to play "surgical nurse."
Wait...where the fuck did he get that custom nurse outfit? And why does it have better stitching than my entire wardrobe?
"Pig Intestines. Slightly more dramatic than a digestive tract, less commitment than human." Wednesday said as she touched the tissue with bare hands, with a satisfied smile on her face, which made Valen raise an eyebrow.
"Can I- can I touch it? Can I set it on fire? Can I name it?" And Pugsley was just too excited.
"If you must." Wednesday plucked a probe from the kit, eyes on the tissue. "Though combustion is such a lazy end. I prefer a slow decay."
"Today's experiment: resilience under fire, and whether symmetry accelerates decay. Hands off the subject until I'm done." Wednesday playing the role of a doctor doing an experiment, announced in a very clinical manner
Thing came crawling like a spider onto the tabletop, his fingers twitching in agitation. He pulled a pair of scissors from the kit like a nervous nurse preparing for surgery.
Valen smirked, tilting his head. "Relax, Thing. She's not going to cut you up…Right?"
I mean, I can never be too sure.
Wednesday finally glanced up at him, face unreadable. "Not until he stops being useful."
Pugsley snickered. And Thing froze mid-snip, his fingers curling as if reconsidering his life choices.
Valen, curious, plucked up a strand of entrail between two fingers, letting it dangle like macabre spaghetti. Well.... Guess I've seen stranger playdates.
He turned it in the light, twisting the organ between his fingers, surprised at himself for not gagging, It seemed their eccentricity was starting to rub off on him. "But you know, back where I'm from, we had Lego sets. Much less messy."
Wednesday's gaze flicked to him, steady, "Lego builds castles. Entrails tell the truth."
Pugsley, unable to wait, grabbed a match. Wednesday caught his wrist with surgeon's precision. "Not yet."
Then she motioned and Thing thrust the scissors into her palm, eager. She pressed the cold metal into the tissue and made a slow incision, parting the strands like opening a book. Pugsley gasped in delight. Valen chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
*
The humid Miami night hit them like a furnace when they stepped outside. Palm fronds rattled overhead, torches flared along the beachfront, and the central stage blazed with spotlights. Metal scaffolding rose like a skeletal cathedral, and banners snapped in the wind.
Valen strolled alongside Wednesday, Pugsley, and, naturally, Thing- who managed to scuttle over the cobblestones with the kind of dignity one wouldn't expect from a severed hand. Around them, the festival throbbed, with laughter spilling into the humid night, drums echoing in the moonlit chaos.
The Addams children looked utterly out of place. Not that they cared.
The Festival had transformed the shoreline into a spectacle with stalls spilling over with jewelry and silks, music thundering from the stage, dancers moving like shadows along the periphery.
Valen walked noticing something, scanning the crowd.
Sirens draped in pearls, vampires in velvet, witches in robes threaded with gold... But here and there, normies- tourists, staff, guests shuffled out of the square in clusters, their faces slack, eyes glazed, movements slow, walking like dreamers.
Valen frowned. Weird. Why bail before the headliner?
Then it clicked and his smirk returned.
Of course.
The Barclays wouldn't sit idly by and allow their protégé to be humiliated in public. Bianca had lost the wager, but surely her people will try to shield her from the consequences.
Still, he wasn't worried, in the world of outcasts, breaking a sacred duel meant more than humiliation, from what his mother told him, it meant disgrace, exile, even ruin. If one refuses to honor a sacred wager, their entire family is shunned. they don't just shame themselves. They shame their entire bloodline. Every door closes. Every alliance rots.
Which meant Bianca's run was inevitable.
As they weaved through the crowd, Wednesday's monotone sliced through the festival's noise. "This had better be worth my time. I turned down an autopsy for this."
Pugsley perked up. "On who?"
"Does it matter?" she replied without blinking.
Valen stifled a laugh. "Relax, Addams. I promised a spectacle, and I keep my promises."
"Executioners do too," she murmured. "You'd get along well."
Pugsley laughed so hard he nearly tripped, weird ass kid.
They pressed deeper into the crowd. The torches spat sparks in the night air, and the smell of brine mixed with smoke and perfume. Voices layered over each other, whispers, snickers, sharp bursts of laughter that spread like wildfire as rumors darted from lip to lip.
Valen scanned the crowd. He saw outcasts from every corner of the festival packed tight around the runway.
Then it shifted, a hush rippled outward, broken by whispers snapping like dry twigs, parting down the center.
Bianca emerged with not a shred of cloth on her.
Her chin was high, but her face betrayed her. Tears streaked down her cheeks, glinting in the torchlight as she ran forward, every sob catching sharp in her throat. Pride and rage fought inside her, but humiliation drowned them both, leaving her exposed.
A pair of maids scurried close behind, holding cloaks and silks in shaking hands, desperate to throw them over her at the first chance. The Barclays themselves clustered near the stage, pale and furious, their jaws clenched so tight it was a wonder teeth didn't shatter.
The crowd did what crowds always do.
The jeers came first from the youth, clusters of outcast teens, their laughter sharp and merciless. "Look at the prodigy now!"
"Barclay pride- running home naked!" Another doubled over, choking on his own cackling.
The adults' voices were quieter. "Shameful."
"Pathetic."
"The Barclays will never recover from this."
Wednesday's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
Valen leaned closer, his voice pitched low so only she could hear. "Simple. That girl challenged me to a duel. She lost. Tradition says the loser pays the price no matter what. In this case? A naked run."
Wednesday's gaze flicked toward the Barclays, then back to him.
Bianca ran through the storm of voices and Valen caught her eyes across the distance. They burned with hatred, raw and blue-hot, aimed only at him.
He smiled back faintly, dismissive.
Beside him, Pugsley pointed and laughed. "She runs funny."
Wednesday tilted her head. "If you wish, I can capture this for posterity. Ink and print are reliable witnesses."
Valen shook his head. "Nah. This is just payback. Tenfold. After this, my grudge is over… well, unless she tries something funny again, ofcourse."
The crowd roared louder as Bianca stumbled.
Wednesday exhaled softly. "Hardly impressive. Humiliation fades. Scars endure. I prefer punishments that linger across generations."
Pugsley laughed anyway. "Still funny though!"
Wednesday's eyes flicked to him. "Mediocrity often is."
Bianca's breath came sharp, her steps uneven, her teeth clenched so hard her jaw shook. At the runway's end she glanced back once more, her eyes slicing back toward Valen. Fury, humiliation, and the fire of vengeance all tangled together.
Then she was gone, swallowed by the curtains.
Wednesday brushed a braid back over her shoulder. "That's it?"
"That's it."
"Disappointing. I expected blood." And with that, Wednesday lost interest. "Bored now," she said, already turning away.
*
On the way back through the torchlit streets, Valen noticed the group was thinner. Pugsley and Thing had fallen behind, stalled several paces back.
At first, he thought the kid was scavenging for fireworks or something sharp. But no, he was frozen in place, slack-jawed, eyes wide. Thing sat perched on his shoulder, his fingers tapping wildly, curling into spasms like even he didn't know what to do with himself.
Valen followed their gaze.
At the edge of the square, a knot of siren dancers moved in hypnotic rhythm.
They moved in perfect rhythm, hips rolling, backs arching, with moans to seduce. Their oiled skin gleamed with sweat, catching the torchlight so their bodies seemed to glow. Thin silks clung to them like mist, sliding away just enough to tease before snapping back with each turn, with raw, inhuman allure. Enough to snare a boy's wide-eyed fascination.
The crowd hovered at a careful distance, but no one left. They stood caught between fascination and shame, unwilling to look away.
Valen chuckled, though his own blood burned hotter than he'd admit. He stepped beside Pugsley and gave a low whistle.
"Well. Looks like lil bro just figured out there's more to life than blowing things up."
And Pugsley didn't blink. "Best. Festival. Ever."
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A/N-Hey guys!! Sorry for the wait!
Made this chapter a bit longer since I couldn't update last night... hope it makes up for it!
Really enjoyed cooking up the playdate with Wednesday, hope you guys like reading it as much as I liked writing it!
Also… can't believe we actually hit the rankings!! Top 20 in weekly too, like daaaamn. Didn't think we'd get here this fast, so big thanks to all of you for the support. Now I owe you 3 more chapters… let's just hope I don't drop dead before getting them out lol. But a promise is a promise, and I'll make sure to keep my word!
As for when? Hmm… not sure exactly, but updates are coming for sure, so stay tuned!
Thanks again for all the powerstones- you guys are carrying this novel fr!
Captain Lag, signing off before caffeine wears out!