Chapter Text
The first indication that Nevermore Academy had made a catastrophic administrative decision arrived at precisely eight forty-seven on Monday morning.
It came in a black limousine.
The vehicle swept through the iron gates with all the understated dignity of a funeral procession and stopped beneath the academy’s stone archway. Its rear door opened.
Nothing emerged.
Students gathering on the front steps leaned forward.
The limousine rocked once.
Then twice.
A polished black shoe appeared beneath the door.
It was followed by another.
Then came an avalanche of long, glossy hair wearing a bowler hat.
Cousin Itt stepped onto the drive.
The student body stared.
Cousin Itt adjusted his hat.
Then he lifted one small, gloved hand and waved.
A rapid torrent of high-pitched sounds issued from somewhere inside the hair.
“Brrrreeeet-tit-tit-tit-reeee!”
Several students took an instinctive step backwards.
A slim silver device clipped to the band of his hat blinked blue.
A warm, perfectly articulated voice announced:
“Good morning, young scholars. You may applaud.”
No one moved.
The device waited.
Cousin Itt made an impatient sound.
The translator amended itself.
“He said you may applaud now.”
A smattering of uncertain claps began near the back of the crowd.
Cousin Itt bowed deeply.
The applause strengthened, mostly because no one knew what else to do.
Standing at the top of the steps, Principal Hillary Rosin raised both hands.
“Students, I am delighted to introduce our newest visiting lecturer.”
Wednesday Addams went completely still.
Beside her, Enid Sinclair glanced from the approaching tower of hair to her roommate.
“Is that…”
“Yes.”
“Your cousin?”
“Yes.”
“The one who once won a high-speed boat race through the Bermuda Triangle?”
“That was never proven.”
Cousin Itt turned his hidden face toward Wednesday.
The silver translator chimed.
“My delightful niece!”
Every student on the steps looked at her.
Wednesday’s expression remained fixed, but her shoulders had developed the rigid quality of a guillotine awaiting release.
Enid’s eyes widened.
“He called you delightful.”
“I heard him.”
Cousin Itt hurried up the steps on very short legs, the ends of his hair bouncing around his ankles. When he reached Wednesday, he flung both arms around her waist.
Wednesday tolerated the embrace with the haunted stillness of someone being publicly attacked by an affectionate rug.
“Itt,” she said.
“Brrrrit-tit-tit-tit!”
“I have also missed you.”
The translator spoke cheerfully.
“She has grown even more beautiful since I last saw her.”
A ripple went through the crowd.
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed at the device.
“I will dismantle that.”
Enid pressed her lips together.
It did not help.
Cousin Itt released Wednesday, took a step back and examined her with unmistakable pride. He patted her sleeve, straightened a cuff that had not required straightening, and produced another stream of excited sounds.
The translator announced:
“Look at her. Perfect posture. Excellent cheekbones. The unmistakable bearing of a woman who knows exactly where the bodies are buried.”
Wednesday inclined her head.
“That is more acceptable.”
“And she has always been terribly modest.”
Wednesday’s head snapped toward him.
A laugh escaped from somewhere behind Bianca Barclay.
Cousin Itt continued before Wednesday could interfere.
“Did you know my beautiful, talented, exceptionally rich niece has an IQ of one hundred and eighty-seven?”
Silence spread across the courtyard.
It moved in a widening circle, swallowing whispers and footsteps until the only sound was the soft ticking of the ancient clock above the entrance.
Wednesday looked at the translator.
Then at Cousin Itt.
Then back at the translator.
“I am going to bury that device in separate locations.”
The translator blinked.
“She says she is delighted by the accuracy of my praise.”
“I said nothing of the sort.”
A second blue light flashed.
“Translation dispute detected.”
Enid made a strangled noise and turned it into a cough.
Bianca did not bother.
She laughed openly.
Wednesday slowly looked at her.
Bianca lifted both hands.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen technology choose suicide before.”
Cousin Itt reached beneath his hair and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. He presented it proudly to Principal Hillary Rosin.
She opened it.
“Your credentials,” she said. “Yes. They are extremely impressive.”
“Brrrt-tit-tit-reee-brrr!”
“He has lectured at universities in seventeen countries, advised three governments, survived two military coups, and was briefly married to a princess.”
Wednesday folded her arms.
“Three princesses.”
The translator emitted a polite chime.
“Correction accepted.”
Enid looked down at Wednesday.
“You never mentioned any of that.”
“There are many things I don’t mention. Silence is a form of quality control.”
Principal Hillary Rosin smiled with the bright determination of a woman refusing to admit that the new lecturer had just handed her twelve pages of credentials written partly in Sanskrit and partly in what appeared to be lipstick.
Rosin had taken over Nevermore after Principal Larissa Weems’s death and later succeeded Principal Dort following his tragic death during her second year. She had quickly earned a reputation for remaining calm in situations that would have caused most administrators to resign on the spot.
“Cousin Itt will be joining the faculty for the remainder of the term. He’ll be teaching History of the Modern Outcast, with particular emphasis on international diplomacy, outcast political movements and the survival of unusual bloodlines in hostile societies.”
Ajax leaned toward Eugene.
“Do you think the hair is sentient?”
Cousin Itt turned.
“Brrreeet.”
The translator replied:
“Yes.”
Ajax immediately straightened.
“Cool.”
“It says you have kind eyes.”
Ajax blinked.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“And a poorly concealed fear of bees.”
Ajax looked at Eugene.
Eugene shrugged.
“I like him.”
Wednesday did not.
Wednesday loved Cousin Itt, insofar as an Addams admitted to loving anyone without framing it as a potentially fatal medical condition.
But she did not like the translator.
Until now, Cousin Itt’s speech had been understood primarily by members of the Addams family and a select number of people with extraordinary linguistic ability, questionable hearing or prolonged exposure to him.
It had been a useful barrier.
A merciful barrier.
A barrier Cousin Itt had apparently decided to destroy with modern engineering.
Enid crouched slightly so she could inspect the silver device.
“This is amazing. How does it work?”
Cousin Itt launched into an explanation.
“It uses real-time acoustic pattern analysis, adaptive emotional modelling and a vocabulary database constructed from more than two thousand hours of recorded speech.”
Enid’s face lit up.
“You helped invent it?”
“He led the development team.”
“Of course he did,” Wednesday muttered.
Cousin Itt reached up and patted her hand.
“She was always remarkably proud of me.”
“I once said your work was statistically unlikely to kill everyone involved.”
The translator chirped.
“High praise in the Addams family.”
Principal Hillary Rosin glanced at the clock.
“Students, your first lesson with Cousin Itt begins in twenty minutes. I suggest you collect your books and make your way to the east lecture hall.”
A murmur of excitement moved through the crowd.
Wednesday turned towards Ophelia Hall.
Enid caught up immediately.
“This is going to be fun.”
“No.”
“He’s adorable.”
“He is a highly intelligent, internationally connected aristocrat with a history of smuggling dissidents across borders in musical instrument cases.”
“So… adorable with hobbies.”
“He also knows every embarrassing incident from my childhood.”
Enid slowed.
Every trace of laughter vanished from her face.
“Oh.”
Wednesday studied her suspiciously.
Enid’s lips trembled.
“Oh, this is going to be incredible.”
Wednesday continued walking.
“I can still arrange for your mysterious disappearance.”
“You’d miss me.”
“Not immediately.”
Enid had changed a great deal since the previous winter. During the holidays, Wednesday had tracked her down after the events that had nearly cost Enid her humanity and refused to leave until she brought her friend home. Neither of them spoke about it often, but the experience had forged an even stronger bond between them.
Behind them, Cousin Itt called out.
“Brrrreee-tit-tit-tit!”
The translator projected his words across the entire courtyard.
“Wednesday, darling, don’t forget to sit near the front! Your hearing has always been excellent, but your attention wanders whenever a pretty boy or girl is nearby.”
Wednesday stopped.
The courtyard stopped with her.
Enid’s mouth fell open.
Bianca’s eyebrows climbed.
Ajax whispered, “Wow.”
Wednesday turned around very slowly.
Cousin Itt waved.
The translator added:
“She has always had very eclectic taste. Honestly, discovering she was pansexual surprised absolutely no one in the family.”
For one glorious, impossible second, colour appeared high on Wednesday Addams’s cheekbones.
Not much.
Barely more than a dark rose shadow beneath pale skin.
But it was there.
Enid saw it.
Bianca saw it.
Half of Nevermore saw it.
A distant raven probably saw it.
Enid stared at Wednesday with the breathless wonder of someone witnessing an eclipse that might never occur again.
“Are you blushing?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m experiencing a minor circulatory malfunction.”
“You’re blushing!”
Wednesday stepped closer until only Enid could hear her.
“Continue speaking and your next circulatory malfunction will be considerably more dramatic.”
Enid beamed.
Wednesday’s blush deepened.
Behind them, the translator chimed once more.
“She has always threatened the people she likes best.”
Wednesday closed her eyes.
Just for a moment.
A prayer, perhaps.
Or a calculation involving distance, velocity and the structural weakness of the translator’s casing.
When she opened them again, Cousin Itt was already following Principal Hillary Rosin into the academy, his hair swaying merrily behind him.
Students streamed after them, whispering with fresh enthusiasm.
The number one hundred and eighty-seven travelled quickly.
So did beautiful.
Talented followed.
Rich spread fastest of all.
Wednesday watched three girls from the siren dormitory glance towards her with sudden interest.
A vampire she had never spoken to smiled and adjusted his collar.
Two boys near the fountain began arguing quietly about which of them had superior romantic prospects.
Wednesday’s expression darkened.
Enid followed her gaze.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“They’re looking at you differently.”
“They frequently look at me differently. Fear produces numerous facial variations.”
“No, this is… different different.”
One of the sirens gave Wednesday a small wave.
Wednesday stared until she lowered her hand.
Enid grimaced.
“I think Cousin Itt may have accidentally advertised you.”
“He has been here for six minutes.”
“Technically, he advertised your intelligence, beauty, talent, money, and the fact that half the school now knows you’re pansexual.”
Wednesday’s eyes became two dark, polished threats.
“It’s a problem.”
From somewhere inside the entrance hall came another burst of rapid speech.
The translator’s amplified voice carried through the open doors.
“And wait until I tell them about the time she performed an autopsy at her sixth birthday party. Such steady little hands!”
Laughter erupted within.
Wednesday marched towards the doors.
Enid hurried after her.
“Wednesday, remember, he’s family.”
“That means I know exactly how much damage he can survive.”
“I think he means well.”
“So does arsenic when applied correctly.”
They entered the academy together.
Above them, the Nevermore bell began to toll.
The first lesson had not yet begun.
Wednesday Addams had already become the most eligible student on campus.
And Cousin Itt still had an entire childhood’s worth of stories to tell.
The entrance hall was warmer than the courtyard, although Wednesday suspected this had less to do with the enormous fireplaces and more to do with the speed at which Cousin Itt’s announcement was spreading.
Students clustered beneath the vaulted ceiling, whispering.
Several looked at Wednesday.
Then looked away when she noticed.
Others did not.
Those were the ones she memorised.
Ahead of them, Principal Hillary Rosin was leading Cousin Itt towards the dining hall, nodding as his translator continued delivering an enthusiastic account of Wednesday’s many accomplishments.
“She mastered the cello before she was tall enough to reach the lower strings comfortably.”
Rosin smiled.
“Remarkable.”
“She began studying Italian at six because she believed threats sounded more elegant in the original language.”
“Very enterprising.”
“She can identify fifty-seven poisons by taste.”
Rosin’s smile faltered for precisely half a second.
“How… practical.”
“She is also an excellent dancer.”
Wednesday stopped walking.
Enid nearly collided with her.
“You dance?”
“No.”
Cousin Itt’s translator chimed from halfway down the corridor.
“She lies whenever dancing is mentioned.”
Bianca, walking behind them, made a thoughtful sound.
“This may be the greatest appointment Nevermore has ever made.”
“It may also be the shortest,” Wednesday said.
The dining hall was already crowded. Students filled the long wooden tables beneath the dark rafters, breakfast plates and silver pitchers spread before them. Conversations dipped as Cousin Itt entered beside Principal Rosin.
Then they rose again twice as loudly.
Cousin Itt was escorted towards the faculty table, where Rosin pulled out a chair for him.
He disappeared almost entirely behind it.
A small gloved hand appeared above the tabletop.
Principal Rosin quietly exchanged the chair for three stacked cushions.
Wednesday watched with the cold resignation of someone observing the construction of her own gallows.
Enid guided her towards their usual table.
“Come on. You need coffee.”
“I need a signal jammer.”
“I’m pretty sure those aren’t allowed in school.”
“Neither are crossbows.”
“That has never stopped you.”
“Exactly.”
Bianca sat opposite them. Ajax dropped onto the bench beside her, followed by Eugene. The surrounding students were making a valiant effort to pretend they were not listening.
They were failing.
Ajax picked up a piece of toast.
He looked at Wednesday.
He looked towards Cousin Itt.
Then he looked back at Wednesday.
“So…”
Bianca’s expression sharpened.
“Whatever you’re about to ask, reconsider it.”
Ajax frowned.
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“That has never protected us before.”
He ignored her.
“What’s pansexual?”
Silence dropped over the table.
Eugene closed his eyes.
Bianca slowly lowered her cup.
Enid’s fork remained suspended halfway to her mouth.
Wednesday stared at Ajax.
Ajax stared back.
“What?” he asked. “I don’t know.”
“You possess access to a library,” Wednesday said.
“I didn’t know I needed to look it up until five minutes ago.”
“You also possess a telephone.”
“Phones track your search history.”
Bianca rubbed two fingers against her temple.
“No one cares about your search history, Ajax.”
“You don’t know that.”
Wednesday’s knife made a soft, deliberate sound against her plate.
Ajax glanced at it.
“So… are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
“Pansexuality,” Eugene said quickly, “generally means someone can experience attraction to people regardless of their sex or gender.”
Ajax nodded slowly.
“Oh.”
He thought about it.
“So Cousin Itt was saying Wednesday could like anyone?”
“No,” Wednesday said through her teeth. “Cousin Itt was repeating an inaccurate conclusion reached by my family after deliberately misinterpreting a private conversation.”
Enid lowered her fork.
“What private conversation?”
Wednesday looked towards the faculty table.
Cousin Itt was speaking animatedly to Principal Rosin. The translator carried fragments of his praise across the hall.
“Her first published novel…”
“An accomplished fencer…”
“An excellent financial portfolio…”
Rosin nodded with genuine delight.
Wednesday appeared to consider whether she could reach him before being intercepted by school security.
Bianca leaned forward.
“What did you actually tell them?”
Wednesday’s jaw tightened.
“I said I did not care what sex or breed someone was.”
Ajax blinked.
“Breed?”
“Outcast species,” Eugene whispered.
Wednesday continued, every word carved from restrained fury.
“I explained that I dislike everyone equally, rendering those distinctions irrelevant.”
There was a pause.
Bianca’s mouth twitched.
“And your family took that to mean you were pansexual?”
“My mother became emotional.”
Enid’s eyes brightened.
“What did she say?”
Wednesday’s expression became bleak.
“That love had opened my mind before it had opened my heart.”
Bianca covered her mouth.
Ajax looked impressed.
“That’s kind of beautiful.”
“It was nauseating.”
“And your dad?” Enid asked.
“He wept for eleven minutes and attempted to organise a celebratory banquet.”
Eugene looked down at his plate, shoulders trembling.
“Pugsley informed Grandmama,” Wednesday continued. “Grandmama informed the coven. The coven informed several deceased relatives during a séance. By sunrise, my sexuality had apparently been accepted across three planes of existence.”
Bianca lost the battle and laughed.
Wednesday turned her stare upon her.
Bianca did not stop.
“I’m sorry,” she said, entirely without sincerity. “It’s just very Addams. Most people come out to their parents. Your family came out on your behalf to the living and the dead.”
“I did not come out.”
“That appears to be the central flaw in their celebration.”
Ajax spread jam across his toast.
“So you’re not pansexual?”
Wednesday’s knife stopped.
Enid looked at her.
Not with amusement now.
Not entirely.
There was something gentler beneath it. Something open and attentive that made Wednesday’s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around the handle of her knife.
Enid spoke calmly.
“Are you not pansexual, then?”
Wednesday turned her head.
For the first time since sitting down, she did not have an immediate answer.
Her gaze moved past Enid towards the tall windows, where weak morning light pressed against the stained glass.
“I have no idea what I am.”
The admission was quiet.
So quiet that the students pretending not to listen had to strain.
Enid did not laugh.
She did not tease.
She merely nodded.
“That’s okay.”
Wednesday looked back at her.
Enid’s expression remained soft, her blue eyes warm and unguarded. There was no expectation in them. No demand for a label. Only the same patient acceptance she offered Wednesday’s morbidity, silences, threats and occasional releases of carnivorous insects.
Something warm crept across the tips of Wednesday’s ears.
Bianca noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Her gaze shifted from Wednesday’s ears to Enid’s face and then back again.
A slow smile appeared.
Wednesday saw it.
“Whatever conclusion you are forming,” she said, “abandon it.”
Bianca reached for her coffee.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You don’t need to. Your expression is offensively articulate.”
“I was only thinking that perhaps you have more of an idea than you’re admitting.”
“I don’t.”
“Of course.”
“I dislike your tone.”
“I haven’t changed my tone.”
“You have weaponised neutrality.”
Across the table, Ajax was still processing the conversation.
“So if you don’t know what you are, does that mean your family is wrong?”
“Yes,” Wednesday said.
Enid tilted her head.
“Or early.”
Wednesday turned towards her.
Enid took an innocent bite of toast.
The colour at the tips of Wednesday’s ears darkened.
Bianca looked down into her cup to conceal her grin.
At the faculty table, Cousin Itt suddenly launched into another excited stream of speech.
His translator projected it clearly across the dining hall.
“My niece has always been admirably selective. She rejected her first suitor at the age of eight by releasing scorpions into his trousers.”
Every head turned towards Wednesday.
Wednesday closed her eyes.
Principal Rosin laughed.
“Really?”
“He had insulted her braids.”
Rosin’s expression became solemn.
“Entirely justified.”
Wednesday opened her eyes again and stared at the principal in betrayal.
Cousin Itt continued.
“She has never lacked admirers. Even as a child, people were drawn to her mysterious beauty, formidable intelligence and considerable inheritance.”
A spoon clattered somewhere near the vampire table.
Wednesday’s expression went flat.
Enid glanced around the room.
Several students who had previously been merely curious were now looking at Wednesday with active calculation.
A siren near the windows whispered something to her friend.
One of the werewolves straightened his uniform jacket.
A vampire discreetly checked his reflection in the back of a spoon.
Enid’s eyes narrowed.
Bianca noticed that too.
“Oh,” she murmured.
Wednesday followed her gaze.
“What?”
“I think your cousin just added inheritance to the advertisement.”
“I am aware.”
“He’s making you sound like the grand prize in an extremely dangerous competition,” Eugene said.
“Anyone foolish enough to enter deserves the consequences.”
Ajax raised his hand slightly.
“Would the scorpions be one of the consequences?”
“Yes.”
He lowered it.
At the faculty table, Cousin Itt patted Principal Rosin’s arm.
“And although she pretends otherwise, Wednesday has an exceptionally tender heart.”
Wednesday rose from the bench.
Enid caught her wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“To correct him.”
“With words?”
Wednesday looked down at her.
Enid tightened her grip.
“With words, Wednesday.”
Wednesday considered the distance to the faculty table, the number of witnesses and the pleading note in Enid’s voice.
“Initially.”
Enid tugged her back into her seat.
Bianca watched Wednesday allow it.
Her smile returned.
Yes.
Wednesday Addams might genuinely have no idea what label belonged to her.
But judging by the blush still staining the tips of her ears, her complete inability to look directly at Enid for more than two seconds, and the fact that Enid Sinclair remained in possession of an unbroken wrist, Bianca suspected Wednesday had at least one useful clue.