Chapter 4: Being Silent is the Woe of the Night
The smell of rotten flesh stung like a bee. Donovan coughed, tied up, throat raw.
A sweet, eerie voice filled the damp air.
"I remember it like it was yesterday… my parents taking me to Willow Hill, saying, 'Oh sweetie, you're gonna help a patient.' And yet little did I know… for the next few days, I was gonna be a lab rat. For a mourning husband."
Helena carried a briefcase in one hand, the other fingers tracing the thin line of Donovan's jaw.
"I swear—I had no idea Judy was going to go that far," Donovan pleaded.
Helena giggled, fingers tightening. "I'm not here to forgive. I'm not here to accept. Every single Galpin will suffer an experience worse than death. Your wife. Your son."
She leaned close, venom in the syllables. "I will have Tyler feed on his mom's corpse and make you watch. I will leave him in Laurel's hands like the leech he is—an existence more meaningless than shit on the street. And then…" Her voice dropped, low as a cracked bell. "I will drug you. And make you see that scene. Again. And again. And again. I will feed you. Keep you alive. So you can suffer like I have. All you'll be able to do is crawl and hear your son call out, your wife beg, as they get ripped to shreds. Again. Again. AGAIN AND AGAIN!"
Donovan shook, the nightmare sinking in before it could happen.
"But don't worry," Helena chuckled. "I won't abandon you. We can suffer together."
"You're… a monster," Donovan rasped.
Helena's smile went cold. "You made me to look like your wife. So I'm not surprised."
— ✦ —
Down in the undercroft, flickering lights painted rust on the walls. Tyler sat cross-armed, glaring like a coiled thing.
"How do we find my mother, Judy?" he demanded.
Judy fidgeted with her phone, voice skittish. "Well—I, uh…it's in the works."
Tyler's eyes narrowed. "…Wednesday."
Judy blinked. "What?"
"We get Wednesday to do it for us," Tyler muttered, low and dangerous.
Judy's lips twitched into a nervous smile. "I'm on that already."
— ✦ —
Nevermore, 6 a.m.
Enid slept with the contented look of someone who'd out-sunned the world. Wednesday was awake, perched at the window, a pale silhouette against the dawn. On the ground below, a scrap of paper snapped in the breeze.
She crossed the room and picked it up.
A photograph: a Barbie with its stomach burst open, pink plastic guts splayed.
Wednesday's gaze flicked to Enid, tucked beneath the blankets. She sat on the bed edge, staring at the ceiling, thinking in dark circles.
— ✦ —
At the police station, tension sat like a second coat.
"What happened, Ritchie?" a cop asked.
Ritchie rubbed her temples. "Tyler's mother is alive somehow. She's a Hyde. Contact Wednesday Addams."
— ✦ —
Flashback — eight hours earlier: the night the roof screamed.
The female Hyde roared and shook the rafters. "He was kidnapped… that's all I know…" she cried, smashing through the roof before vanishing into the black.
— ✦ —
Switzerland — Reichenbach Academy.
Stone and high windows. Students laughing outside while inside, Xavier worked in silence, paint under his nails. Black. White. Red. Yellow. His brush stuttered and then moved with a hunger.
"And done," he whispered.
The result: Wednesday Addams, face streaked with blood, sunlight striking like judgment.
"Beautiful," Xavier breathed.
A faint buzz hummed. The paint began to move.
Color ran. A hand formed — pale, clutching, an Addams family ring glinting on a finger. A voice slithered through the studio, broken and echoing.
"You can't… lock up the darkness…"
Paint splattered to the floor. Xavier stood frozen, stomach dropping.
"The fuck…?" he said aloud.
— ✦ —
Back at Nevermore, courtyard light.
"I told you, Ajax. Chasing Enid will only get you hurt," Bianca said, walking beside him.
"But I miss her…" Ajax murmured.
"You cheated. You can't fix that," Bianca answered.
Ajax's shoulders slumped. "…I know. I didn't realize what I had until it was gone." His voice cracked. Bianca hugged him like it could piece him back together.
"You painted?" she teased.
Ajax blinked down at the dark blot on his shirt. "Huh. Weird."
Neither noticed the single drop rolling off the hem onto the ground, black paint hissing where it hit stone.
— ✦ —
The Addams house. Morticia's voice — soft, controlled — picked up the phone.
"Yes?"
"I need to talk to Wednesday," came Xavier's voice.
"And who is this?" she asked, cold amusement in her tone.
"Xavier," he said. "I painted her. It—glitched. It said: 'You can't lock up the darkness.'"
Morticia's smile flattened. "I'll book you a flight to Jericho."
"But I—"
"No buts." She hung up, eyes locked on the wall of family photos. Among them — one that didn't belong. A small girl, black-clad, black eyes, hair cropped, no older than ten.
— ✦ —
At the carnival, lights glittered and everything smelled of fried sugar. Enid and Wednesday strolled, hand in hand.
"Oh my God, Mister Fluffy Poofs?" Enid squealed.
Wednesday did not hesitate. Her wrist flicked; a needle popped balloons in perfect succession. The carnival man cursed, defeated. Wednesday walked up and handed Enid the prize.
"Best girlfriend ever, Weds!" Enid danced with the pink bear.
"Stop calling me that before I rip my ears off," Wednesday snarled.
"Oh, come on. You love it."
"I love you, not it," she said, blunt and soft.
They kissed.
Then—like a shark-smell before a strike—Wednesday froze.
A vision ripped through her: snakes slithering over gray stone. Letters carved clean and cold.
ENID SINCLAIR.
"Weds? You okay?" Enid asked.
Wednesday stared for a heartbeat, then forced her mouth into a smile. She nodded, and they walked on.
Later, fingers on a phone, she typed one terse message to Ritchie.
Tell me everything you know about the Hydra.
Her mind sharpened into one blazing purpose.
I love death. I embrace it. But Enid's? Not on my watch.
— ✦ —