Chapter 1: Wednesday and Vic
The Addams Family's vintage hearse crawled along the mountain road, its tires crunching satisfyingly over damp fallen leaves.
Morticia sat in the passenger seat, elegantly snipping the thorns from a black rose, while Gomez hummed a tango, nursing a glass of red wine, occasionally glancing back at his daughter in the rear seat.
Wednesday Addams stared expressionlessly out the window, fingers tapping a slow rhythm on her knee — as though she were calculating the precise timing for a murder.
Her black double braids hung neatly over her shoulders, her pale face appearing especially gloomy in the dim interior of the car.
"So, dear," Morticia began, her voice like silk draped over a straight razor, "do you really think putting piranhas in the school pool was a mistake?"
"Of course not," Wednesday replied flatly, eyes fixed on the dead trees blurring past outside. "I just regret not starving them for three days first."
Gomez burst out laughing, nearly spilling his wine.
"That's my girl!" he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Next time, give your old man a heads-up so I can set up the camera."
The corner of Wednesday's mouth twitched — barely, almost imperceptibly. "Father, if you'd been there, the piranhas probably would've choked from sheer excitement."
Right at that moment —
"Whoa! Piranhas? Dude, that is awesome."
An unfamiliar voice rang out from the seat beside Wednesday.
The entire Addams Family turned their heads in unison.
A dark-haired boy had somehow materialized in the back seat next to Wednesday, sitting cross-legged, cradling a warped human skull in both hands, wearing the biggest grin any of them had ever seen outside of a jack-o'-lantern contest.
He had on a beat-up black leather jacket, a silver spider brooch pinned to his collar, and eyes like two pieces of obsidian that had somehow figured out how to catch fire.
"Hey there!" He waved with enough enthusiasm to nearly clock Wednesday across the face. "Hope you don't mind me catching a ride?"
Wednesday's eyebrows rose approximately one millimeter — the highest degree of surprise she was capable of displaying.
Morticia narrowed her eyes. "Child. Where exactly did you board this vehicle?"
"Back seat," the boy shrugged, like this was the most reasonable answer in the world. "Door wasn't locked."
Gomez blinked. "We locked it."
"Locked?" The boy tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "Huh. Maybe I'm misremembering. Could've been the trunk?"
He patted the coffin-shaped duffel bag beside him. "Seriously though, your trunk setup is thoughtful. There was a pillow in there."
Wednesday fixed him with a stare cold enough to flash-freeze a lake. "Who are you?"
"Oh! Right! Introductions!" The boy slapped his own forehead so hard it was medically concerning.
"I'm Victor Black. You can call me Vic. Or 'that lunatic.' Or 'the chocolate guy' — oh, wait!"
He thrust the human skull toward Wednesday like he was presenting a bouquet. "A gift. From my personal collection. I had a feeling you'd appreciate it."
Wednesday accepted the skull, fingertips tracing the cracks along the cranium. It had clearly been treated — the surface was smooth, with dried reddish-brown residue still settled around the eye sockets. The corner of her mouth lifted by approximately one additional millimeter.
"She likes it!" Vic lurched forward until he was close enough to Wednesday's face to count her eyelashes. "I knew it. See, Venom? Told you."
His collar squirmed. A mass of black, slick, alive something erupted from his shoulder and condensed into a massive jaw packed with jagged teeth.
"She's sweeter than chocolate," Venom growled — a sound like gravel being dragged through a wood chipper.
Wednesday's eyes widened slightly. This was the highest form of shock she'd ever displayed in her fourteen years on earth.
"Yes!" Vic clapped so hard the car shook. "She actually has an expression! Venom, I think we just made history."
"Shut up, Vic," Venom said, rolling what may have been eyes. "You're freaking the kid out."
"I am not freaked out," Wednesday said immediately, snapping back to her default setting. Her fingers, however, remained firmly wrapped around the skull.
Gomez and Morticia exchanged a look — one of their many looks that communicated volumes without a single word.
"So..." Gomez ventured carefully, "you are...?"
"Oh! Right!" Vic sat up ramrod-straight, nearly headbutting the car roof. "New student at Nevermore! I'm a Shapeshifter! Well — kind of. I'm actually a Symbiote host, but Headmistress Weems told me, 'Just say Shapeshifter, Victor, don't give the other students an aneurysm,' so —"
"— so we're calling ourselves a Shapeshifter," Venom added, its voice reverberating through the cabin. "Personally, I think this cover story stinks."
Wednesday studied Venom with the focused interest most people reserved for rare scientific specimens. "It can talk?"
"It?" Venom bared its teeth. "I have a name, kid."
"Ignore it, it's just hungry," Vic said, waving a dismissive hand. "By the way — you don't mind me tagging along, right? I was going to ride my motorcycle up, but Venom reminded me: 'Hey, Vic, remember the last time, you nearly took out three crows' — so —"
"— so we hitched a ride," Venom sighed. "For the record, those three crows filed a formal complaint afterward."
Morticia smiled, her signature sharp teeth catching the dim light. "You're more than welcome to join us, dear."
Wednesday glanced sideways at Vic and asked in her usual monotone: "Why this car specifically?"
Vic's grin went supernova. "Because it's the coolest car I've seen since the one parked outside Hotel Transylvania."
Wednesday's gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly. "You've been to Hotel Transylvania."
"Stayed there, actually," Vic said, like it was perfectly ordinary. "Count Dracula runs a tight ship. Great continental breakfast if you don't mind it being entirely bat-based. Venom ate the decorative garland in the lobby and Drac didn't even get mad — just sent us a strongly worded note."
"It was one garland," Venom said defensively.
"It was the enchanted garland, Venom. The one Mavis put up herself."
"— and it smelled like death," Venom added, with what could only be described as fond nostalgia. "Anyway. Your car smells the same. That's a compliment."
The corner of Wednesday's mouth lifted for the third time tonight. She was dangerously close to approaching a smirk.
Soon, the Addams Family — and their uninvited guest — arrived at Nevermore Academy.
The spires of Nevermore loomed through the low-hanging clouds like the ribcage of something enormous and long dead.
Vic hopped out of the hearse, stretched with a full-body groan, while Venom lounged across his shoulders like an extremely unsettling scarf.
"New school! New freaks! New—" Vic squinted at the stone crow statues flanking the academy gate. "Venom. Real birds or taxidermy?"
"If they're stuffed," Venom mused, "that's a waste. Bet they'd be delicious."
Wednesday stepped out beside him, still holding the skull. She studied the gate with the expression of someone conducting a professional appraisal.
"Oh! Wait!" Vic snapped his fingers. "Venom — little help?"
Venom extended a black tendril from Vic's shoulder. It coiled around the skull in Wednesday's grip — and she let it go without protest. The skull disappeared smoothly into Venom's mass.
Wednesday watched this. Then: "...Convenient."
"Insanely convenient!" Vic's face lit up. "We can store chocolate, car keys, daggers — one time we hid an entire suitcase full of Uncle's Demon Chi talismans in there because Section 13 was doing a surprise inspection and —"
Wednesday turned fully toward him. "'Uncle's Demon Chi talismans.'"
Vic paused. "You know about the talismans?"
"I know about a great many things," Wednesday said. Then, after a beat: "Tell me about Section 13."
Vic opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Man, you are something else." He looked at Venom. "Venom, she's —"
"Don't say it."
"She's like Jade Chan if Jade Chan had been raised by the Addams Family —"
"I told you not to say it."
"That's the best compliment I know how to give!"
Wednesday studied him for a long moment. "I'll allow it," she said finally.
Headmistress Larissa Weems stood on the academy steps, arms crossed, her sharp gaze sweeping over the new arrivals like a lighthouse beam. Tall, impeccably composed, silver hair swept back — she looked like someone who had never once in her life been caught off guard.
"Wednesday Addams," she said, her voice low and authoritative. Then she looked at Vic. Her composure flickered — just barely. "And Victor Black."
"Hey, Aunt Larissa!" Vic waved like he was hailing a cab.
Larissa's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I am your cousin."
"Close enough!" Vic beamed, apparently immune to her tone. "My mom's a Shapeshifter, my dad is — honestly, your guess is as good as mine. Venom thinks alien. I'm leaning toward 'spectacular mistake.'"
"— or garden-variety idiot," Venom offered.
Wednesday looked between Vic and Headmistress Weems. "You're related."
"Distantly," Vic said, making a gesture that implied at least three generations of buffer. "Like, multiple branches removed. Different area codes of the family tree."
Larissa drew a slow breath — the kind that suggested she was deciding how much of this she had the energy to address. "Your dormitory assignments are ready. Wednesday, you'll be rooming with Enid Sinclair." She turned to Vic. "Victor, you'll be in —"
"— with Wednesday!" Vic's hand shot up like an overeager kid at a school assembly.
Larissa looked at him. "No."
"Why?"
"Because you're a boy."
Vic gasped — genuinely, theatrically scandalized. "That is discriminatory, and frankly reductive, and also — Venom, back me up here —"
"She's the headmistress, Vic."
"Traitor."
Wednesday spoke. Quietly, the way she did most things. "I don't mind."
The entire group went still.
Weems turned to look at her. Morticia and Gomez exchanged another one of their looks.
"As long as he can keep quiet," Wednesday added, with the gravity of someone issuing a legally binding document.
Vic immediately clamped both hands over his mouth. Nodded so vigorously his head looked in danger of becoming detached. His eyes were wide as hubcaps.
Larissa pressed two fingers to her temple. She had been headmistress of Nevermore Academy for over a decade. She had managed Gorgons, Sirens, Werewolf packs during a full moon, and one very memorable semester involving a time-displaced Viking.
She had not anticipated this.
"...Suit yourselves," she said at last.
Venom made a sound that was probably a laugh.
End of Chapter 1
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