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Wednesday thought it would be satisfying watching Tyler get tortured. No one messes with the Addams family and lives to tell the tale, and she’s here to make him and his family pay. After everything he's done—injuring her allies, betraying her trust, making her look like a fool, threatening Enid, throwing her out the window, kidnapping her brother, taking Thing hostage, doing nothing as his crazy uncle buried her alive—this is exactly the kind of poetic justice he deserves. Betrayed by his own family, strapped down and powerless to prevent the loss of his powers as electricity arcs excruciatingly through his body.
This is her chance. Isaac and Francoise are distracted. Wednesday’s armed and Tyler isn’t, roaming free while he's completely at her mercy. Now’s the time to kill him like she’s fantasized about so many times before.
His eyes find her and follow her. They always do.
“Kill me,” he whispers as she approaches, a desperate plea that almost sounds like a prayer. Not even asking for her help, just begging to be put out of his misery like a rabid dog.
She raises the axe, about to do it, about to bring her weapon down on his jugular, but something halts her hand. Her dark heart should be reveling in his pain, in his torment and anguish and agony. She normally loves it when she gets her revenge on those who have wronged her, and Tyler has certainly wronged her.
But to her shock, she isn’t enjoying this. Not at all. In fact, she feels strange as she looks at his face. He’s like a trapped animal in a cage, the life gone from his eyes as he waits for death. He squeezes them shut like he can’t bear to watch, like he can’t take this anymore and is just waiting for her to get this over with, and a sudden realization slams into her like a coffin dropping into a fifty-foot hole in the ground.
She can’t take this anymore, either.
In a split-second, impulsive decision she’ll probably live to regret, she brings the axe down hard on one of the cuffs holding his hands. He winces but then lifts his hand and flexes his fingers as soon as he realizes it’s free.
He looks at her with utter astonishment. “Why?” he asks, the word sounding as shocked and broken as he is. There’s so much meaning packed into that one single word. The unworthiness he feels, the surprise at her of all people helping him, the desperate need to know what drove her decision.
“I missed,” is all she says. And it’s true enough. She simply didn’t hit her original target. And even if she just so happened to miss on purpose, it wasn't because of foolish sentiment. No, this is just so her plan to save Pugsley will go more smoothly. Besides, it wouldn’t be right for an Outcast to have his powers removed against his will—
Tyler doesn't believe her. He just looks at her with this incredulous expression, like he’s seeing her in a new darkness for the first time. Well, good. She wouldn't want him getting to know her too well, because then he’d always be able to predict her moves. There’s no fun or excitement or thrill in that. By freeing him, she's simply keeping him on his toes, as he should be.
He repays her help with help of his own. He transforms into his Hyde and goes after his uncle, distracting his mother in the meantime. Good, that’s the diversion she needs to free Pugsley. She does with her mother’s help, and then Tyler and his mother break out of the tower in Hyde form, fighting each other, and Thing battles Isaac with the encouragement of his real family and wins.
Her vision of a dead Addams doesn’t come true. Not now, anyway.
Francoise’s body is later found on the school grounds in the arms of a werewolf statue, but Tyler is nowhere to be seen.
Well, she can worry about him later. For now, she has to find Enid like she promised.
Wednesday is on a road trip with Uncle Fester and Thing, enjoying the freedom from her overbearing parents and half-wit brother. They head north towards where Enid was last seen as she leafs through Aunt Ophelia’s diary, searching for clues about the mysterious woman. She turns the page to the drawing Ophelia made of herself, tears like blood dripping down her cheeks, and—
Her head snaps back. She has a vision of her aunt, a tantalizing taste of the return of her psychic capabilities, and knows she’s not dead.
Another lie, then. But not from her parents. No, she’s certain they have no idea about this secret.
She, Uncle Fester, and Thing stop at a haunted inn with creaky wooden floors and an owner dressed in clothing 250 years out of fashion. Wednesday has to admire the commitment to the bit. The woman even looks like she might give up the ghost at any moment, her face pale and wan, her white hair thin and wispy. She smiles vaguely at her three guests as she serves them dinner in the dining room, which Wednesday is fairly certain hasn't been changed since Washington Irving first penned “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”
The soup she serves is of questionable providence and unknown ingredients. It's delicious. Even Thing seems intrigued. Wednesday gives him a spoonful to try. She doesn't know how digestion works for a hand, but if he can get drunk, he can have a taste of the soup. He gestures his thanks, and the three of them continue eating.
“Alright, I can tell when something’s bothering my favorite niece,” Uncle Fester says presently, his eyes twinkling. “There's something more on your mind than just werewolves. Spill it.”
Uncle Fester and Wednesday don't do secrets, and for that, she’s grateful. He doesn't hide things from her, so she doesn't hide things from him.
“I saw Aunt Ophelia,” she tells him, and his eyebrows would shoot up if he still had them.
“Now that's someone I still haven't seen in a very long time. Are you sure?”
She nods. “I had a vision when I looked through her diary. She's alive.”
Uncle Fester scratches his cheek. “I didn't find any traces of her at Willow Hill during my most recent stay. Do you have any idea where she is?”
“The vision was too brief for that. I didn't get a good look at her surroundings.” Not even her face. Just a quick glimpse of her from the back, and she was wearing a crown of withered flowers and had very long gray hair. Like Wednesday's mother would have if she weren’t so vain and stopped dyeing it.
He shrugs. “I'm sure you'll have another one. Any visions of Enid?”
“A dead end on that front. I’m hoping I’ll see something soon.” Wednesday brought along the clothes Enid had to ruin to save her in the hopes of triggering a vision, but so far, nothing.
Uncle Fester scoops more soup into his mouth. “We can still work with this. But it would be nice if we had another werewolf with us, or even a Hyde. I've heard they have great senses of smell.”
Wednesday stiffens. The mention of Hydes makes her think of things she would rather forget, of someone she’s trying to force out of her brain.
“Sorry, the ex must still be a sore subject,” Uncle Fester says, giving her a sympathetic look.
“He’s not. We’re even now. He’s probably in prison again or off murdering people in some other town by now. Either way, he's not my problem anymore.”
Thing interrupts with his strongly gesticulated opinions on the subject.
“Yes, he did help me after I set him free,” Wednesday admits, since Thing so ungraciously brought it up. “I still don't know what possessed me to free him, though.”
Uncle Fester smiles fondly, his eyes getting a far away look in them. “Ah, young love. You never forget your first. My first girlfriend tried to kill me, and that’s when I knew what we shared was real. I returned the favor with a romantic shock on Halloween. She loved it, but her parents split us up after that. That changed something in me. Flings for Fester only from now on. You just have to use ‘em and lose ‘em, that’s the best way to have fun.”
Wednesday considers this, but she can barely picture herself in a romantic relationship, let alone having a casual fling. Still, the prospect of using a man and breaking his heart is tempting. So is the thought of marrying a man and murdering him in various salacious ways on their wedding night.
Yes, she would enjoy being a black widow and toying with men’s emotions for the thrill of it. That might be fun to attempt someday.
But then Tyler’s face when he looked up at her and begged her to kill him flickers into her thoughts. He had quite literally been asking for it, and yet she still didn't do it. She didn't want to kill him then, and she realizes with a start that she still doesn't want him dead.
Why?
It's an ironic echo of the question he asked her, and she can’t get it out of her head.
Thing taps his fingers, and Uncle Fester raises a nonexistent eyebrow.
“Uncle Fester, I’m afraid the situation is more complex than that,” she grudgingly admits. “I couldn't bring myself to kill the boy, and that's my exact problem. He quite literally begged me to, and I still didn't do it.” She frowns. “Nevermore has made me go soft. I'm losing my edge.”
“I don’t think so. I think you've just found your Debbie. Addams form very strong romantic bonds with the right person. From the moment Gomez met Morticia, he hasn't had eyes for anyone else.”
Wednesday blinks. She can't recall who Debbie is.
“Debbie’s the name of my first girlfriend,” Uncle Fester explains. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why you can’t get over this guy. He’s a Hyde, so he’s suitably dangerous for an Addams, and he’s your first love, which also increases the likelihood of a soulmate level romantic bond.”
Wednesday crosses her arms. “He is not my first love,” she grinds out. It's one thing to admit she was attracted to Tyler, another to—
Uncle Fester holds his hands up. “Call it what you want, I call it like I see it.”
The rest of dinner passes in a companionable silence as the three of them finish their soup. Then the innkeeper takes their bags up to their rooms, and they settle in for the night.
Wednesday takes a long time to fall asleep under the dusty, mothball-ridden blankets. Her first love, that’s complete malarkey. Tyler is a fleeting fancy, a passing interest, that’s all. Yes, against her better judgment, she was attracted to him, and against all logic, she spared him, but anything romantic between them would be impossible. She’s a Raven and he’s a Hyde. They’ve tried to kill each other on multiple occasions. Their families hate each other. He needs a master to survive, and fate seems hellbent on preventing her from becoming his.
And yet she spared him and he defied his family to help her. And the look he gave her after she saved him, the shock and awe and gratitude…the way he gazed at her as he watched his uncle bury her alive…that wasn’t hate. It was frustration and fury and…and grief.
A man does not grieve what he’s not afraid to lose.
No, Tyler Galpin doesn’t hate her, and that terrifies her far more than his hate ever did.
The next couple of days settle into a routine as their party of three makes its way to where Enid was last seen, staying at inns and hotels and bed and breakfasts along the way.
At last they reach their destination. After dropping off their bags at another local bed and breakfast, the three of them set out to search the night for clues about Enid.
Wednesday takes them to the exact location her friend was last spotted, a forested area about five miles from the Canadian border. They search the place for several hours, combing every tree and blade of grass for clues. After a while, they find some muddy werewolf tracks that disappear into a nearby creek. Enid was probably trying to hide her tracks and her scent from other werewolves. Smart. The thought she’s being chased by other werewolves though…it makes Wednesday’s icy skin grow even colder.
It’s getting late, so they call it a morning and get some sleep, then continue their search in the late afternoon.
The rest of Wednesday’s school break passes as they continue looking for Enid, zigzagging across the northern US and southern Canada. She’s supposed to be back at Nevermore in a few days when they finally hit another promising lead. It’s night, and Uncle Fester finds several muddy werewolf tracks in the forest where they’re searching. Thing even discovers a clump of blond and rainbow-colored fur. Wednesday eagerly snatches the clump into her hand, hoping for a vision, a clue—
Her head violently snaps back. Her mind flies far away from here. She sees her friend, safe and sound and human again. Relief floods through her icy veins. Enid’s at a coffee shop, holding one of her disgusting multicolored drinks with steak sauce as she happily chats away, her rainbow nails clacking against the sides of the cup. And sitting next to her is…is the last person Wednesday expected to see.
Tyler looks well, better than he has in months. His face and hair are clean, his eyes are clear, and he’s wearing a crisply starched apron. He’s gone back to being a barista from the looks of it.
How? Why?
His face completely transforms when he smiles at something Enid says, and Wednesday feels a strange rush, seeing that smile. It’s not the fake smile Jekyll used to hide the Hyde, and it’s not the Hyde’s psychotic smirk, either. It’s something real and heartfelt, something genuine she's never seen before.
Wednesday doesn't know what to make of it.
The vision continues, and Enid laughs at some comment he just made. The two of them are…are friends? Wednesday never would've predicted that. And worse, she has no idea where they are. Enid’s coffee cup is unmarked. The background is blurry, though Wednesday can make out a painting on the wall that looks like a serial killer took a liking to Jackson Pollock’s style.
The vision comes to a screeching halt and throws her back into the present. She’s not sure what she just saw. A vision of the future, sure, but it was so bizarre she doesn’t know what to make of it.
“Wednesday? Everything okay?” Uncle Fester asks, crunching over dead leaves and a possum carcass to reach her. Thing likewise scrambles over a rotting branch to draw near. Moonlight casts the three of them in light and shadow.
Wednesday’s mind races. Her thoughts keep circling back to that painting on the wall. It was bizarre in the best possible way. Like splatters of dried blood draped across a clean white canvas—
Splatter art. There was that newspaper article in Capri’s desk, about the art colony in Woodstock. Her ex-boyfriend, who was a Hyde, made splatter art. That art colony must be where Tyler and Enid are. And Wednesday has a sneaking suspicion they aren't the only Hydes and Alphas there, either.
Capri. It was Capri all along. If Wednesday discovers the woman has been hiding not only Wednesday’s best friend but also her ex without breathing a word of it to her, well…
She hopes Capri enjoys punishment. And there’s another unhappy realization. She doesn’t hate Tyler. She felt something ghastly, something horrible, something approximating joy, at seeing his real smile.
She can't curse Capri for that, only herself. What a fool she is.
Well, she can mull over all this later. Now is the time for action. Uncle Fester and Thing are awaiting her orders.
She allows herself the slightest smile. It is satisfying knowing what to do after months of uncertainty. “Uncle Fester, start the motorcycle, and Thing, hop on. We're going to Woodstock.”