Chapter Text
Except for the sound of his urine sliding down the ceramic of the toilet, the house is immersed in the silence of the early morning. Sighs and shakes his member a couple of times, not wanting any undesired drop of piss on his white boxers as he hides it away under his clothes. The rumbling sound of the flushing of the toilet over the open faucet as he meticulously cleans his hands on the sink. Since the months he spent locked up in that dog crate, he had become a compulsive, extremely tidy man.
Not even the most rabid of the dogs would have deserved that treatment.
His snakes twist under the comfy woolen hat he used to sleep next to Bianca. They still needed time to fully grow, barely babies who had grown from their severed, fallen, mutilated sisters. The amputation, devastating pain that had left his throat sore. The regeneration, strangely numb.
Ajax Petropoulos (had kept his surname in honor of his mothers) Addams. Only successful survivor from the Gorgon’s traffickers. The golden child. The kid with the most beautiful ophidia, displayed as amulets and trophies in mansions. Their skins used to line bags and moccasins.Because if someone tears apart something off you…wherever they end up…would they still feel his presence?
Prefers to ignore his own question.
Got out of the bathroom and turned off the light. The crescent moon on the garden bathed the living room with gentle shadows; the sole of his feet gettingcold with the black anorthosite gneiss under them. Before going back to his room, checks the room where his cousin and her boyfriend rest. The werewolf was gently holding the girl in his arms, lying on his side.Nympha is still lost in the anesthetic fog, lying over her back. Under the blanket, one could glimpse the long and slender bulk of her leg. The other, severed at the knee, cast a visibly shorter shadow. He feels uncomfortable looking at it, overcome by empathetic sorrow, so he closes the door behind him, careful to not awaken the couple.
- ‘f*ck, Wens.’ -the thought came to him without warning- ‘What a mess we are in.’
Doesn’t feel ready to go back to bed, even if it’s only 6 a.m. At this point, it’s best if he stays awake. So he went to the kitchen and lit the fire of the gas stove. With calm diligence, he prepared a new coffee pot upon finding it empty of its bitter contents, then leaned the lower part of his back against the countertop, waiting for the 100 degrees Celsius needed for boiling. Hums something to himself, a low, private tune, eyes lost in the edges of the tiles lining the wall.
The meditation is cut clean when he jumps on his seat. The loud thud on the door was heard above the steaming whistle of the coffee maker. Waits for a couple of seconds, taking a hand to his heart, feeling the fluttering heartbeat of a hummingbird and goes straight to one of the drawers. The sharpness of the knife of silvery quality sinisterly shined under the white neon. Unsure, light steps to the front door. On the entrance, another thud, softer this time. Alluring him. His snakes, part of him, yet independent, hissed and writhed, ready for the attack. The knife handle is more dependent on him, trapped on the sweaty palm of his hand. He is ready. Another thud, the gentlest one.
Hand on the door knob of chilling bronze. Slides his hand, clockwise.
The absence of a presence surprises him even more than if it had been one there.
Stays there on the frame. The front yard is empty, the street behind it, also empty. There is nothing there. There is no sound…except for a faint, nervous fluttering of a pair of wings. There is nothing there…until he looks up to the light porch.
There's a bat performing closed and daring circles under the yellowish light. It seems to be chasing a couple of moths, but its attacks are strangely inaccurate, absurdly clumsy. Its wingspan is such that when its huge wings spread before closing, Ajax can glimpse against the light the endless veins and arteries of the thin layer of skin. His mouth opens for a brief second, as it must be the bat with the worst echolocation he has ever witnessed.
A moth escapes, barely by centimeters, of its open jaws. Clashes against one of the columns of the porch and turns around after a padded thud. Barely has time to duck with a surprised shout, to dodge the flying mammal, which with unexpected dexterity, manages to enter the Addams' home. Terrified, the knife falls from his hand and runs behind it, leaving the door open.
The bat clashes against the wall, against the pendulum clock, against a jar over the chimney, making it crash on the floor. Only has time to grab a blanket that rested over the couch; the feeble impulse of trying to trap it and take it out of the house, but his hands freeze and twist the blanket, contemplating the harrowing transformation.
The flying creature, that had stopped its intrepid exploration of the living room, hangs down from the black chandelier. Precipitates itself to the ground and loses all previous form, a smoky ball of thick shadows once it reaches the floor.
From it, a corporeal presence taking the form of a tall body emerges, dressed in a gray suit. Before the face appears, it’s already raising its hands in a conciliatory gesture. Ajax forgets the blanket, immediately reaching a hand to his hat, dreadful anxiety igniting, setting fire to each and every one of his neurons.
As the shadows are wiped away from the face, turning from unknown to a living memory, Yoko Tanaka is dead serious. Her eyes, never showing behind the smoked glass.
- “Mister Petropoulos.” -the shakiness of her voice. The coffee maker whistles, likely spilling its mahogany-brown contents over the fire- “Please, take your hand off your hat. I’m just here to talk.”
- “To talk.” -affirms. The snakes are hungry for freedom- “Erupting in our house in the middle of the night.”
- “Ajax!” -heard Fester scream from the second floor- “Ajax what-” -his pale face peeked from the stairs. Immediately raises a hand, pointing at the vampire; the static electricity emanated from his hands in visible whitish filaments, like a living plasma ball- “You-!”
- “Addams you better stay still.” -From the door, came inside Divina, pointing Yoko’s gun directly to Ajax’ skull, who was giving his back to her- “Or I swear to God I blow your nephew’s brains out.” -her hands shook with horror, never having picked up a gun before, tasting its deadly coldness with disgust.
- “BIANCA!” -Ajax screams, waking up the whole house- “BIANCA! EUGENE!”
- “SHUT THE f*ck UP!” -screeches, getting closer to him, pressing the nuzzle against his nape- “ON YOUR KNEES!”
The siren’s girlfriend, hyper aware of their circ*mstances, raises her hands higher in the sky - “Divina, don’t! Calm down!”
- “Don’t you f*cking stone her!” -warns to Petropoulos, who got on his knees, obeying the siren. Bianca hurriedly stepped inside the room, as well as Ulrich.
- “Tanaka?!”
- “...Greeley?!”
- “What are you-” -when he saw Bianca, furiously walking towards them and reaching from the collar that annulated her powers, he stepped in front of the vampire, shielding her- “No! No! Wait!”
- “Wolf you better move to the side!”
- “No! No! Wait, listen to me! We can talk about this! I know her!”
- “The f*ck you talking about men?! She is a f*cking copper!”
- “Well I’m one too!” -doesn’t move a centimeter, not backing down, not even by her menacing ones- “So c’mon! You better charm me too!”
- “Please I could charm you, the copper and that rotten fish!”
Divina opens her mouth, flabbergasted- “Who you calling rotten you bitch-!” -held Ajax’s head with her free hand, holding her disgust by the snakes that withered under the wool- “You can’t even compare to me!”
- “Wanna try, uh? Wanna try?!”
- “f*cking calm down!!” -Ulrich screams again, overwhelmed- “All of you calm down!”
None of them realized, but Eugene was on the door frame of his bedroom, recently awakened, completely pale. Immediately got on his knees, raising his hands.
- “...you-” -Yoko mutters, furious- “You! The f*cking kid on Enid’s apartment!” -when she was going to run to him, Greeley held her tight, closing his thick arms around her- “LET GO! YOU!” -Eugene flinched. With fear invading him, he looked like a rabbit crossing a road, hypnotized by the headlights of an approaching car about to crush him against the ground- “Where is she?!
- “Yoko!”
- “WHERE IS ENID, ADDAMS?!” -Ulrich threw himself on the ground, trapping the vampire under his body, who wouldn’t stop squirming and screeching. Divina’s finger, dangerously close to the trigger of the gun- “Enid!”
- “Eugene you better shut the f*ck up!” -Bianca nailed her pupils on Eugene warning him, obliging him to held the secret- “You better shut up or I swear-”
- “SILENCE!” -Fester came down from the stairs, raising his hands- “All of you! Hands up!”
- “Fester!”
- “Bianca, raise your hands. Boy, get off her.”
- “But-”
- “Now. Raise your hands and get on your knees, next to Eugene.”
Grudgingly, Bianca raises her hands, with fire on her blue eyes and Ulrich raises from the ground, helping her previous classmate to get up, who silently thanked him. Divina, still holding the gun, looked at her girlfriend, confused.
Fester gazes at the FBI agent- “May she lower her gun?”
- “Di. Do as he says.”
- “Yoko.” -the siren whispers, terrified- “I-”
- “Di. Please.”
Still with trembling hands, lowers the gun. Ajax crawled to Eugene and Bianca and got on his knees, also raising his hands. The uncomfortable silence, only interrupted by the panting and the buzzing electricity on Fester’s hands. The bald man finally put an end to his electrokinetic display with a mysterious look on his eyes- “The cat is out of the bag, I suppose.”
- “You goddamn right it is.” -the vampire spits after a quick fix of her sunglasses, that had slid down her nose due to the thin layer of cold sweat covering her face- “You treacherous creatures. Wednesday goddamn Addams. Of course. The Dark Waves. The sudden relationship with Tyler. Enid.” -shakes her head, a smile of incomprehensible appearance- “I even feel stupid for not noticing it before.”
- “Shouldn't it be better if we talk about this sitting on the couch?” -Gomez’ brother offers candidly, showing her palms to the vampire- “I can imagine this is going to be a long, long talk, agent…” -doesn’t pronounce her last name, tiptoeing around.
- “You perfectly know who I am.”
It’s now Fester's turn to smile. A terrifying, viscous smile which accentuated the wrinkles on his forehead and made the agent feel uneasy- “Then take a seat…Miss Tanaka. You should take a seat too, Miss Raiver, although you don’t have to put down your gun. The feeling of being pointed with one it’s quite an exhilarating pleasure.”
- “Is this sh*t genetic or what?” -Yoko asks, with a slight mocking voice, but backed down with the strange, proud eyes of the Addams- “You all being crazy psychos?”
- “Always has been.”
The vampire took a seat next to him and looked sidelong to her girlfriend, who after a doubting seconds, took seat on a chair, her hand on her hands, not pointing at him, but at the space between her own feet, looking down at it, like she could not believe what could had happened. Both looked at her, the vampire out of worryness.
Fester, on the contrary, had an amused shine on his pupils, analyzing her shock without being discreet. After a few seconds quickly turns his head to the vampire with a grin- “So, I suppose you two come alone…she is shaking like a dead leaf moved by the wind. Have you convinced her to hold a gun for the first time in her life?”
- “Fester Addams.” -repeats, convincing herself to remain calm- “You are accused of being complicit in the crimes of Wednesday Friday Addams.”
- “And?” -asks, genuinely curious- “You are going to kill me? I know that even behind those sunglasses there are the vampire’s eyes with less bloodlust that I have ever seen in my entire life. No. And there is no backup, no one on that street hiding in a van with microphones. No.” -inclines his head to an extreme that Yoko thought that even if he broke his neck, he could keep talking, and talking…- “You need to know where your friend is. Because she left with her. You have reached that conclusion a long time ago…but didn’t say a thing. Where does this leave us?”
- “Sir.”
- “You need to know. Right?”
- “Don’t you dare to blackmail me-”
- “I’m an Addams after all. I do these kinds of things for a living. But what about you, Miss Tanaka?” -shows her the palms of his hands- “What do you think we do? You and your friend have been investigating us. What kind of people do we kill?”
- “That doesn’t justify it.”
- “For agent Sinclair was enough.”
- “Enid is not like her!”
- “Sure it’s not. Of course not. But she willingly went away with her.” -points out, resting again his hands on his lap- “I think she knows what she is doing.”
- “Only because your disgusting niece manipulated her all she wanted!” -got up from the couch, infuriated, under the uncomfortable silence of the living room- “All she has done is play with her! Of course Enid was going to go away with he-”
- “Enid doesn’t know that the serial killer you have been chasing around is Wednesday.”
- “...excuse me?”
- “She doesn’t-”
- “How isn’t she going to know?!”
- “I can assure you that she doesn’t. She has willingly followed her to know what happened to her previous girlfriend. To help us look for our brother and my sister-in-law. Your best friend knew perfectly what she was getting into.”
- “But…Enid-”
- “I can tell you where she is.” -also gets up, trying to calm down the vampire- “But you have to let us go.”
- “Let you go?!” -Divina, at her scream, pointed at Fester again- “You are as guilty for those deaths as Miss Addams. You are not going anywhere.”
- “I thought you were more intelligent than that. You know our work. Do you really think justice has been done? Look at your old classmate.” -Yoko looked askance at Ulrich, the only one who is still on his feet, looking at her classmate with determined eyes- “It was Enid and my niece the ones who saved him, agent. For how long have you been missing, boy?”
Ulrich rubbed his elbow in a childish, hurt manner- “I can’t even remember.”
- “Did the FBI investigate the werewolves disappearances in New York state in the last five years?” -twisted Yoko’s sense of guilt- “After that girl’s death, that fight between Enid and agent Galpin…everything, under a rug. My family has solved more cases than all you police forces together.”
- “You are not going to get away with this.”
His voice changed to a menacing one- “If we fall, Enid will fall with us.”
- “Oh you f*cking bastard.” -her teeth screeched, feeling her fangs uncomfortable, like urging her to bite something- “Enid won’t-”
- “The only people who know that Wednesday and your friend are working together are us.” -the way he said it was creepingly analytical- “If you call the police on us, we will spill all the beans. Every bit of it. So you better let us all go now if you want to know where she is.”
- “Yoko…” -Divina mutters under her breath, still sitting down, but pointing at him- “He knows where she is.”
- “Divina.” -Yoko warns her, trying to maintain control over the situation, but Fester smiles languidly at the siren.
- “You could try to charm me to tell you the truth, young lady, but the result will end up being the same.”
Divina knew for certain that that wasn’t a lie, so she gazed at her girlfriend with cold fear- “Yoko, we can’t risk ourselves!”
- “Silence.” -the vampire gazes at Ulrich and takes off her glasses, letting him see her crimson, worried eyes- “Is what he says true?”
- “It’s true, Yoko.” -the werewolf took a step closer to her, overwhelmed by an emotion hard to explain- “It’s all true. You need to listen to us. We will explain everything, but please, you have to let us go.”
The vampire made a gesture to her girlfriend, who returned the gun to her. After a shrewd look to the older Addams of the room, finally saved the gun on her holster and made a gesture to Bianca, Eugene and Ajax, still on their knees- “You three, get up. Ulrich, explain everything to me.” -signals the couch- “But I’m not walking out of here until I don’t know where the f*ck is my partner.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And where the f*ck was Enid. If only Yoko knew…
If only Yoko knew that Enid stood before that bitter womb that brought her to life. Before that monster of human form that haunted her in dreams. The disdainful, grating voice she heard in her head when sorrow and weariness flooded her brain. The hands that so often wielded unjustified violence, the hands that formed a desert wasteland where love and life could not grow. Hurting and evasive arms in which she never found the slightest comfort. Dark clothes and ragged mop-like hair bathed in stagnant waters that left a pungent trail of black tobacco and cleaning chemicals. She hadn't given birth to her; she had only expelled her from her body as if they were menstrual clots, ignored at the bottom of the toilet after a long pee.
Lie. What an absurd lie.
At least she cared about her menstruation, causing cramps and terrible kidney pain in her body. Enid meant less to her than the remnants of an unfertilized egg, and perhaps that was what prompted the most effort, tears, and more alcohol sliding down her throat in a futile attempt to push it away, to let it go.
If she asks herself: When did everything change? She knows perfectly well that no answer will bring her satisfaction. It would be foolish to wonder why she is loved, but even more foolish would be to torture herself with the sick obsession of questioning the reason for her hatred, since her motive is infinitely more mundane: she simply earned Esther's hatred from the moment she forced her way through her entrails, as the first thing she received upon entering the world was her progenitor's clear regret for allowing her to breathe.
The silence that has settled in the Sinclair house (settled? More like flooded) reigns over everything else. No one dares to answer the old she-wolf's question. For a moment, Enid is transported to the darkest part of her childhood.
The stillness before the explosion.
The memory of herself overwhelms her, small, awkward, with skinny legs and old clothes beginning to fray from wear. But what overwhelms her more is the difference, for from the threshold of the door, Esther seems so small. The imposing tower that chased her through the halls with the worn-out belt is now left behind. In eight years, her appearance has changed. Her hair has become even grayer, if that was even possible. Flesh now clings to her bones, her teeth have a slight tint of sickly yellow.
She is now so small, so fragile, that Enid almost feels like letting out a cruel laugh. But still, the arcane terror remains there, as present in her heart as the blood that circulates through it.
- “What is she doing here?” -repeats when no one answers her. Cedrick and Allen stood there, silently questioning her with their eyes. Murray, with his back still raised from the bed, seems to mumble something, but he's invaded by a sudden and harsh coughing fit. Cedrick, always quick to react, gently grasps his right shoulder, urging him to lie back down on the bed.
Enid, despite inheriting a genetic legacy fraught with defects from her aging mother, finds solace in the subtle perspicacity that accompanies both Esther and her.
Sometimes, all it took was an improvised gesture, uncalculated by her interrogation subjects, to uncover the hidden truth, to feel it beneath the layers that enveloped it; much like she would seek, in her happiest nights alongside Lauren, the curve of her breast, with an appearance and reality so soft.
With a hint of perversity, she touched the exquisite truths beneath the clothing and the lies, but never without that preceding gesture, that unspoken permission: the guilty party's elusive glance. The sigh of her lover, buried underground for a year and a couple of months, against her neck, encouraged her to seek, to tempt, to discover. They were both the same.
And Esther and her? The exact same. Her mother only had to fix her blue eyes (did Enid inherit hers? Or are they Murray’s ones?) on the sick display of his father to just know.
- “You just had to send one of your stupid little letters, ain’t I’m right, you useless lump?” -after the initial piercing shriek, the she-wolf spoke with a calmness that frightened the agent even more than her bursts of concentrated anger. Within the unpredictability of a hurricane, there are experts who can calculate its trajectory, saving cows, houses, and cornfields. Everyone to the shelter and that’s that. Nothing bad ever happens in the shelter.
Oh…but the second you step outside of the
(‘Bunker. Oh my dear God, our bunker.)
shelter.
And you bask in the sunny day, without a single cloud on the horizon.
And you revel in the silence, in the notion that the ordeal has passed. That it's a wonderful day... until a shard of rubble still caught in some violent current of air, shatters your skull. Now you see it, now you don't.
- ‘So let us rejoice before smashing our brains. Let us sing. And chant, and-
- ‘Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you.’
Her hand worked by itself. She just had to see Esther, taking a couple of rationalized steps to her sick father. Worked by itself, stopping the cruel hand mid-air. Was as if a sentient, forgotten button buried in the depths of her brain had been pressed by a higher entity. Invaded by a strange magic, as if a demon now had control of her limbs, a puppet guided by instinct. The hand Esther had raised to strike Murray is stopped by her own; claws gleam under the orange light and the enamel of infinite and cheerful colors, but otherwise, everything is quite dark.
The grip around Esther’s wrists has such strength that her slender fingers trembled around it; the knuckles with the whitish tone. The paleness of a vengeful ghost.
Silence is imposed over the destructured family, as never someone has dared to take their self-defense to the physical extreme. Hell, even the psychological, verbal methods had been thoroughly dismantled. Until they were husks. Until no one would even dare to think about it. But oh, how she dared now. And how she enjoyed the startled eyes. The lingering fear inside of them.
It was like when she saw Poltergeist with Yoko the year it was released. Hated horror movies, but she hated evil puppets even more. And that clown with its terrifying grin, porcelain dead eyes almost made her sh*t her pants, even though she was already eighteen years old. But once the movie was over, it was just that: a fantasy of the producer, the director, the screenwriter, special effects…
No, this was very real. And she wasn’t eighteen years old anymore. She was at the peak of her mature self. Esther is screaming, insistently smacking her with her free hand, hollering profanities. Insults and curses are well known, as the lines on the palm of her hand, yet she cannot hear them.
Everything is quite silent besides her ear ringing and the insistent pumping of her heart. Quiet. Silent. Mortuous. The smacking made her skin ache and hitch with the pain. A smack in her shoulder, a fist to her sternum. Painless. The tension of her muscles didn’t allow pain to grow. More screams, muffled in her shock. A smack to her face and ear, so sudden and violent that made her head turn to the side briefly. Yet she comes back to fix her eyes on her.
- “You rotten creature!” -another blow, directly into her eardrum, maximized the insistent buzzing- “You rotten, rotten, ROTTEN-!”
In her, the vague, slight regret of the girl crying in any corner of the mouse trap of an apartment is replaced with the incredulity of (David against Goliath) of having dared... having even dared to act.
The bones of her wrist snap beneath her claw with the crack of a fallen tree.
And the joy that coats her body in a chillingly cold layer as she notices her sensitive eardrums shrinking with pain at her mother's suffering, her mother, holy mother. Beneath, far beneath, she believes Murray shouted something from the bed; his lungs make him emit a creak of old wood. Allen and Cedrick are screaming too, surely; they're grabbing her shoulders and arms as Esther writhes... But it doesn't matter. How could she let go of her-?
(´prey´)
(‘Now. Let us pray. Acts 20:29. “For I know this, that after my departing shall grievous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock.’)
From the door, the commotion has banned any of the Sinclairs to notice the figure in the wide open door, gun drawn out, and for the first time in her life…shaking. For an Addams to allow its gun to shake…such an insult.
And besides pain in the screams the old, frail woman, no doubt the beast that Enid refers to has her progenitor…in addition to the hoarse shriek of excruciating agony... there's something else. Terror. Crushing fear.
And she knows well why.
Enid's smile, from ear to ear, but hollow like a fault in the ground. There's something in the way the corners of her lips twist, in the platinum glass of her eyes, which seem to be fixed on some point on the wall behind the old she-wolf... there's something about them that keeps Wednesday rooted in place. Before speaking, a brief exhale, barely a flutter of air in her lungs.
- “Enid-" -glances at the serial killer out of the corner of her eye- “Easy, Enid…” -a low growl, yet she let go of Esther, who fell into the ground. Cedrick and Allen, confused, look at the serial killer.
- “Who are you?” -Cedrick asks, startled. Both raised their hands, being pointed by the serial killer’s revolver- “Please…don’t shoot us. We didn’t-”
- “I know.” -points at Esther now, who is panting and holding her broken wrist, moaning and growling from time to time- “Do not move. You two, call an ambulance for your dad. The mattress is infested with mites and mold. His lungs will only worsen in this room. Take him to Saint Francis and demand treatment.”
- “But we don’t-”
- “Do not worry about the medical bills. My family will take care of it. You two go with him.” -checks on the agent, still pointing at the gray woman- “You too, Enid.”
- “Like we are going to accept your charity!” -Allen screams, offended- “Take that sh*t off your face and-!”
- “You want your father to die you f*cking moron?!” -raises her voice for the first time, leaving the dealer flabbergasted- “Uh?! You want him dead?! No, right? Then f*cking take him to the couch and call and ambulance!”
Enid tried to take a step forward to the dark girl, scared and surprised- “Raven-”
The desperate screams of Esther interrupted her- “POLICE! POLICE! HERE-!”
- “Shut the f*ck up!” -growls to her mother, getting away from her, who has tried to grab at her ankles- “Shut up already!!”
- “Go.” - with the Raven’s order, Cedrick runs by her to the landline in the living room. When the serial killer put away her gun, helped the dealer to raise his father from the bed, who let out a pained grunt- “To the couch. Careful with the respiratory machine.” -she speaks decisively, as if it were all part of a plan previously plotted in her mind. She glanced sideways at Enid before leaving the room- "Do as you wish."
- “CEDRICK!” -Esther shrieks on the ground- “ALLEN! Don’t go! Please! PLEASE!” -a loud, anxious screech when Enid hovered over her- “You…you are a demon!” -Trying to crawl away from her, constantly clutching her injured wrist, she gasped, incredulous- "How, how could you?"
-"How could I?" -Enid almost let out an ironic and painful laugh- "And you? How could you?!” -points at the older woman with one of her long claws- “YOU ARE THE DEMON!”
- “Bring that useless bastard back here RIGHT NOW!” -apparently dismissed Enid’s insult, which only brought a renewed wave of sharp hatred into her system. She is crawling on her knees to the door- “CEEEEEDRICK!! AAAALLENNNN!”
- “SHUT IT!” -got on her knees and lied squarely over her, like a rapist would do with its victim. There’s no sight of her previous self. She only wants to hurt. Wants to maul. Wants to-
Oh, poor Enid, little Enid, lying on the ground, hiding his head between her arms, in a fetal position…maybe trying to get back into the womb again. In a womb that could shelter her…but how? If the one which brought her to life made such things to her? How could she forget, the quiet rustling of the pages, cut only by the swinging of the worn out belt.
(‘Hebrews 12, Enid. Repeat after me.’)
(‘But I-’)
One strike, directly across her uncovered shoulder blades, sting of wasps and vipers leaving her skin reddened and swollen in irregular patches.
(‘REPEAT! My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline and do not lose heart when he rebukes you-’)
Patient wait. Didn’t dare to look at her. In Esther’s beatings 1-0-1, it was the first rule, the unbreakable rule…of not to look up.
(‘Because-’)
Another, in her nape and her head, of those that would leave her stunned in a white shock of pain.
(‘LOUDER!’)
There are rest of the wood floor tiles under her claws, the only werewolf trait of such a disgrace like her.
(‘BECAUSE THE LORD DISCIPLINES THE ONE HE LOVES-!)
Hurts. But never as much as the humiliation. Never as much as her sore throat.
(LOUDER!’)
Never as much as her desire to break free…and break her in the process. Never.
(‘AND HE CHASTENS EVERYONE HE ACCEPTS AS HIS SON!’)
Has turned Esther to her back, as she wants to look into her eyes as life squeezes out of her body. Her knees pressing down on Esther’s stomach, which flutters under her own weight. Her hands close around her throat, the pulse of her carotid and jugular fluttering like that of a hummingbird. Enid’s thumbs find their favorite spot on either side of her Adam's apple. As the air is cut off by the pressure, Esther emits a groan halfway between silence and agony; Esther's claws fight for survival, clinging to his arms, leaving bloody grooves in them, which would soon turn into irregular lines of scarred skin, as Tyler did some time ago.
Her own gasps, filled with a sinister and wild adrenaline, almost simian, delighted as the face marked by the passage of time, by the ravages of alcoholism, the face that haunts her dreams is getting now tinged with red as well.
Now it's her turn to-
(‘Repent’)
With insistent kicking, feeling trapped beneath her assailant, rubbery squeaks emit as her low heels scrape against the floor; her knees occasionally strike the buttocks and lower back of the agent, who begins to bash the gray woman's head against the ground, never letting go of the slender neck, the engine of insults and humiliations. One of her claws dares to go beyond the forearms and manages to swipe at the agent’s face. Her quick reflexes narrowly avoid the irreparable loss of one of her eyes, but the cut on her right eyebrow, blood trickling toward her eye, wide open in vengeful ecstasy, momentarily blinds her, forcing her to close her eyelids. But the left one remains contemplative.
She wouldn't miss this for the world.
In that small space between the two beds, she thinks she hears Cedrick in the distance - "Yes, please, we need an ambulance! My father, he's sick! -silence- "Cancer-yes, throat. It's serious. Please, they must-!"
The way Esther’s panicked eyes look at her,
The way Esther's eyes gaze at her, almost bulging out of their sockets. The few vowels she manages to emit with her minimal reserves of oxygen, her face turning into a whitish shroud. More external noise- "Number 15 Mission Street! Hurry!" -But the internal noise is louder. Her voice. Was this voice... always there? All of this? Where was she keeping it? What was this for? Something hot runs down her cheeks.
- “Now it’s the time to repent.” -mumbles in a catatonic state. Esther’s legs have stopped moving. Her claws have contented themselves with clinging to her forearms, her consciousness slipping away- “NOW IT’S TIME TO-”
The other presence doesn't reveal itself to her until she feels delicate fingers on her biceps, now bare as the sleeves of her shirt have been torn into dirty shreds, sticky with crimson fluid. She is overwhelmed by the calm that washes over her as she feels a familiar chin resting in the space between her neck and shoulder, the voice whispering to her, cold and numbing, against her ear - "She is dying." - she confirms, as she clenches her hands around the muscles tense as piano strings - "Do you feel it?" -it's like having the very devil directing her thoughts - "Enid. You are killing her..." -Wednesday’s hands slide, like snake tongues, towards the hands squeezing the neck of the helpless mother- "If you kill her, we will be discovered. And your father and brothers will be led to ruin with us. Are you willing to do that?" -the soft breath, cotton soaked in gasoline against the lobe of her ear. As she notices how the hands of the serial killer end up on hers, simply resting atop them, exerting no pressure, like the butterfly alighting on the flower... or the fly ending up on the carnivorous plant- "Your father, Enid..." - gasping, with her heart on the verge of collapse, she fixes her eyes on those of her mother, unable to distinguish anything in them but the sclerotic mass dotted with venous rivers. The pallor of her face nearing death. With delicacy, Wednesday manages to rest the tips of her fingers in the spaces between Enid's, as if she wanted to intertwine them with the agent's, as they usually do when they walk together. As they usually do when they sink into each other - "They need you, Enid...let go..." -she begins to exert pressure as well, pushing Enid's hands, which have momentarily lost strength, against the swollen, wheezing throat- "Or let us sink into misery."
Oh, so the hot liquid running down her cheeks was tears. That seems…amusingly appropriate- “But she-she-and…-” -sobbing, denied with her head. Her hands had lost all the will to fight- “She-I-”
- “I know.” -whispers to her and finally let go of her hands to wrap her arms around the agent’s stomach in a protective hug- “I know, love. Someday…not now. But someday…” -Enid got off her mother and crawled away from her. Turned around and buried her head on Wednesday’s chest, sobbing.
The shock and anguish were such that, amid her sobs and sudden bouts of hiccupping, she sometimes screamed, leaving her vocal cords on the young woman's black shirt, leaving traces of blood, traces of tears that form patches of darker tones. Wednesday just remained still in respectful silence, allowing Enid to clutch her tightly. Her extended claws, which had closed around her waist, lightly dug into the skin of her lower back. And it's okay. She just slides her hand over her pleasant touch chestnut hair, while the other dedicates itself to tracing healing circles in the space between her shoulder blades. Every time she screams, to the point of almost choking, she tries to silence her by emitting soft "Shhhh" with a childlike lullaby cadence. Something about the scene reminded her of little Pugsley, when it was just the two of them. When it was only them two left. And that only heightened her thirst for blood.
Despite, apparently, her attention being solely fixed on the weeping and trembling werewolf woman, nothing could be further from the truth... for her eyes were unable to stray from Mother Sinclair. She tells herself she will live. Those kinds of people always survive. She has witnessed it, a thousand and one times. Their hateful nature prevents them from leaving this world without causing more pain. The lack of oxygen has probably caused her to lose consciousness, which she will regain in a violent and sudden instant. And how easy it would have been to simply allow the agent to end her life, to crush her hypoglossal nerve, her veins, her larynx.
She would assist her in her task without a single hesitation, or even relish unparalleled in the fact of crushing her vocal cords under her heel, as if she were a vermin - 'But she will live' - she repeats to herself again - 'And she had better enjoy the little time of life she possesses...' -exhaled air through her nose, trying to calm herself down. Pats Enid’s head a couple of times- “Love…” -Enid mumbles something in a clumsy, childish way. Wednesday, once again, hushed her- “Love. We have to get out of here…”
- “I can’t…” -screams again, almost choking- “I can’t, I can’t. I’m-” -suddenly moved away from Wednesday and got up with trembling knees. Went to the corner of the room, resting her hands against the wall…to end up on her knees again, emptying her insides on the floor of the room with a smell of mustiness and illness lingering in the air.
She is quick enough to aid the agent, holding her hair back and gently patting her back - "Let it out. That is it. Good girl. I am here, agent."
- “I’m sorryy…” -mumbles, with a fine thread of saliva escaping from the corner of her mouth- “I’m sorryy…mommy…sorry…”
- “Do not be, love. It is alright.” -waits patiently for Enid to finish, patting her back each time Enid would scream, anguished amidst the persistent retching and her body convulsing violently, when she feels it's been enough, Addams compelled the young woman to wrap her arm around her neck- "Let us get out of here. Slowly. The ambulance will be here any moment." -they gradually make their way out of the room. As they pass by the unconscious body of Esther, Enid emits a mournful whimper- "Do not worry about her. Come on, Enid." -it's difficult to move the wiry body of the werewolf woman in such a state of shock. They arrive in the living room, where Enid's father, lying on the couch, breathes with difficulty, his eyes glassy and half-closed.
- "Enid, mo leanabh,"
- “Athair.” -mumbles, getting on her knees next to her father, holding his hands and resting her forehead against the man’s stomach- “Dada…”
- “It’s okay kiddo…” -allowed her eldest daughter to cry- “We fine…”
- “The ambulance is here.” -Cedrick mumbles, still stunned- “My mother-”
- “Your mother is okay.” -Wednesday dismissed him and walked to Murray- “Enid, you are the stronger one. You two.” -signals at the brothers with her head- “Pick up his legs. Go.”
The Sinclair family gently carried the old man outside. Something about the scene reminded Wednesday of the phenomenon known as "Accidental Baroqueism." It truly seemed like something out of a chiaroscuro scene, as they carefully descended the stairs with the battered and wounded figure; as if it were a descent from the cross. Unfortunately, in this scene, there is no heroic and already dead body. It's a living body, barely so... but there's nothing of health, of youth, under the yellowish putrid light of the building. The impertinent scream behind her, a helpless whimper, made her turn towards the end of the hallway. That's where her Barabbas was. That's where the one who should have been crucified at Golgotha was found. Another scream. Her feet moved on their own. May her blood be upon us, and upon our children.
She said it before, and she repeats it to herself now. She will live. Of course she will. For the time being, that is. The woman, incredibly, finds herself now on her knees, her breath half-recovered, still sorrowful and bewildered. As she struggles to stand up, pushing herself with her hands on the bed (including the one with broken wrist) the Raven, without a word, delivers an excruciating kick to her ribs, earning a scream from the helpless creature that sent shivers down her spine, like scorching lava streams.
More pleasure still (if possible) when she hits her temple against the linoleum. - "Damn…damn BITCH!" - an Addams knows how to recognize things... and at least, she recognizes that she defends herself well. With a probing hand, she reaches for a crystal ashtray, hitting her on the forehead. The mask falls to the ground - "ENIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID! ENID COME HERE RIGHT NOW. NOW! OR I SWEAR... that-" -her voice dies in her throat when Wednesday points the old revolver unhesitatingly and unforgivingly at her forehead.
- “One more scream and I will blow your brains out.” -so she shuts down. Appropriate- “Good. Now, being your daughter the exceptional creature she is, I thoroughly doubted that someone could inflict such trauma on her. I thought: Then, her mother will surely be a terrible creature. Of those alpha werewolves they talk about in sappy, cheap novels.” -inclines her head to the side- “My surprise at finding out that you turned out to be a disgusting old hag, no better than any piss puddle you find on the street, I admit, has been monumental.” -her eyes sharpen like low-life's switchblades- “Although, of course. To abuse children, you don't need to be a Herculean being either. You just have to be rotten enough inside to be capable of exerting such violence against someone defenseless.”
- “So you are one of them.” -she is crazy. That’s all Wednesday could think, as how dared she to speak back- “One of those of her kind.” -spits on the ground, right between her shoes- “If you are going to shoot me, you better do it now, dyke.”
- “Like you were even worth it to spend a bullet on you.” -retorts with a disgusted grin on her face- “I should have allowed Enid to kill you…but we will have time for that.” -holstered back her revolver- “All the time in the world. And more.”
- “You aren’t going to get away with this.” -mumbles, getting her hands in front of her face in a vain attempt to protect herself- “You won’t-!”
- “Let us see that, then.” -mutters to herself after cracking her knuckles with a sad*stic smile- “I love when they scurry away.”
Down the stairs, Enid thought that she heard her mother screaming, but the rational part of her mind seemed to be drowned under her actual worries. Murray let out a soft grunt when they finally got out of the stairs- “Allen, the door. I’ll hold him straight.” -the dealer, seemingly has returned to a child-like state, instantly obeying her older sister. Went to the door as Cedrick and the agent kept holding him- “We’re almost there, dad. Hang in there.” -Murray nods, eyelids fluttering. Cedrick was consistently looking at her- “Cedrick…”
- “Who is that girl?”
- “Who…she-”
- “The girl with the mask.”
- ‘The girl with the mask.’ -shakes her head, disturbed. There are things that can be discussed. Others are better kept in the dark, in the unknown territory of the doubt- “She…”
- “Who?”
- “It’s…it’s complicated, Cedrick.”
- “What did you do to mom?”
- “Nothing.”
- “I heard her.”
- “Cedrick-”
- “It wouldn’t have surprised me, you know?” -looks at his hands, carefully wrapped around his father’s ankles- “If you…hurt her.”
- “I did…I-” -denies with her head, ashamed- “I-”
- “She never…with us, you know.” -confirms. While Allen kept the door open, they began to take Murray out of the building- “She was a bitch. She is a bitch. After you left…she…I dinnae know.” -shook his head after huffing air, trembling limbs by the effort and the adrenaline- “She began to do the same with dad. We defend him…but sometimes it isn’t enough. I wish that we could have-, when you…when she did that to ya, I-”
- “Cedrick. Leave it now.” -the red and blue lights of the ambulance patiently awaited them. As soon as they saw them, two of the paramedics rushed to them with a stretcher and helped the older werewolf to lie on it.
- “He is very fragile.” -Cedrick warns the health workers, who listened attentively to him- “He has throat cancer and-”
- “I will pay for everything.” -Wednesday came, with her hands on her pockets, mask on her face- “Anything this person needs, you will provide. The best treatment.” -the two paramedics nod, yet one of them warns them.
- “Only two people can go with him. I’m sorry.”
Wednesday looked at Enid, whose lips were pressed so tightly together that they appeared as a tense, whitish line. Wants to do something, anything. A reassuring caress to her back. Hold her hand. But the second she showed her hands, everything would be over for her. The knuckles feel swollen, and blood has runned down her hands, reaching her wrists. So she awaits for an answer.
- “I…”
- “You go with her, Enid.” -Cedrick resolves, resting his hands on her sister’s shoulder, who almost jumps on her seat, disturbed- “Do not worry. Miss-”
- “Jenna.” -doesn’t think about it twice- “Jenna Ortega.”
- “Miss…Ortega. I…we-” -dragged Allen next to him- “We cannae thank you enough. This-” -Wednesday couldn’t avoid smirking at Allen’s sudden embarrassment and submission- “Thank you. I’m sorry for my brother’s actions. And all the problems we have caused. We are sorry.” -inclines his head and forces the dealer to do the same- “Thank you.”
- “Thank you.”
- “No need.” -the Addams shrugs it off- “I will do everything in my power to help your sister. Everything I can, I-...” -got silent, looking askance at Enid, who was still in a state of shock- “Enid you should…”
Before she could even finish the sentence, Enid already had her hands on her father. One, carefully caressed its forehead, beaded with sweat. The other squeezed one of his hands with a dull tenderness, weeping to herself- “Dad…dad I swear, I will go to see you tomorrow. I will go and-”
- “Enid…”
- “I’m so sorry I will never leave you again.” -her cries are interrupted by a coarse chuckle of the men, who patted clumsily at her arm- “Dad…”
- “Enid…Na h-eisimeileachd”
- “But-”
- “Enough, kiddo. We are okay…we are fine.” -smiles, feeling a kiss on his temple- “Now, go off. These two will take care of me, you’ll see. In two days, I’ll be good as new.”
Enid shook her head, her bottom lip trembling with her weeping- “I’m sorry, I just- I can’t-”
- “Enid. Chan eil càil do chrochadh air.”
It was like a smack on her face. The old Scottish proverb brought forth a crack in her heart, flooding it with something she thought she had forgotten. And in response, she could only cry even more. There’s a respectful silence as Enid finally accepts to let go. Murray is carefully taken inside the ambulance, waving his pale hand to her little girl, who wiped away the tears with the cuff of her shirt. It was then when she realized that she was hurt, crossed with scratches. One of the paramedics got closer to her.
- “Ma’am, how did you receive those-”
- “It was my fault.” -Allen interrupted and stepped in- “I-”
- “No! It was my fault! I got nervous and we-”
- “You should see a doctor too-”
- “I’m fine!” -raises the palms of her hands- “I’m f*cking fine, just take my dad!”
- “But-” -Wednesday took another step forwards, leaving the guy speechless. Not every day you see a masked woman…with such eyes behind it.
- “I will take care. I suggest you go away.” -Murray throwed a terrible coughing fit and Wednesday was surprised to notice…how fake it seemed. At least they protected her- “This man needs urgent medical treatment. A couple of scratches is something that can be easily cured.” -the paramedic was going to say something, but Allen frowned and urged them with an entitled tone.
- “The f*ck you’re waiting for?! Do your job!” -pushes him out of the way, getting inside the ambulance. Cedrick sighed, faking annoyance and got inside after whispering a ‘sorry’ as he passed by him. The paramedic stood there…only to finally give up.
- “Treat her wounds.”
Both agent and serial killer stood there as they got inside the ambulance. Cedrick shyly waved at them. Allen just closed his eyes with his arms crossed and ignored them…with a slight smirk. One so slight that you could barely distinguish. Enid just raised her hand and waved back.
And they go away.
The ambulance hadn’t got out of the street, yet Wednesday quickly turned to the werewolf, just in time to hold her before she collapsed to the ground. Quickly follows her there, not caring about the puddle they were in, or how it drenched their pants. Held Enid’s head against her chest, patting her back- “There…Enid, we have to take you back to the hotel.”
- “What are you doing to me.” -doesn’t ask. She confirms it, eyes wide open as she grips at Wednesday’s back, clawing at her- “I almost…Oh dear God I almost killed her…” -sobs, looking for Wednesday’s neck to nuzzle at it. To feel some skin against her. The Addams allows her to do so. How couldn’t she?- “Oh my God I almost killed her. Oh my God. Dear God. f*ck!” -growls. Her claws painfully nailed in the lower back of the Addams, making her hold her breath- “f*ck!”
- “Enid. Enough…” -quickly glances behind her, seeing her family members looking at her with a surprised face- “The car. Bring the goddamn car!” -Fausto is quick to obey, running back to where they left it. Shiro and Psyche simply contemplated the scene, unsure of what to say or what to do- “Enid, c’mon. Up…”
- “No…leave me here…what have I done…”
- “Enid.” -her tone is now faintly harsher. A warning mixed with a plea- “Please…get up, love.”
- “Don’t deserve it…”
- “Yes. Yes you do. C’mon.”
It worked. Surprisingly, it worked, as Enid, with the help of Wednesday (and Shiro, who had taken a step back to help the agent) got on her feet. Psyche stood there, in the distance, in respectful silence. Not a word is told when Fausto arrives. Not a word is told when Enid slumps on the back seat next to Wednesday, hiding her face on the dark girl’s shoulder, letting out sobs in irregular intervals. The city seemed darker now, even though they were getting dangerously close to the morning.
Fausto, from time to time, would tap his fingers on the steering wheel, bothered by the silence. Shiro, on the back seat with them, had his eyes fixed at the window, unable to look at the couple, giving them as much privacy as he could.
Psyche…Psyche had tried. It was like…when you had a strong olfactory sense and you felt something in the air. A nice, flowery perfume. The stench of dog sh*t under a boot. You didn’t want to notice them…but you couldn’t avoid it; your own senses are treacherous. That’s how Psyche felt every time she tried to ignore the thoughts of other people. But with how they lingered in the air, mosquitoes buzzing insistently under summer’s sun. They were palpable, tangible as her own skin. She could hear every bit of it. And what she heard...had shaken her to the core. So, the eldest of Arlette’s adoptive sons preferred to lit herself a cigarette and tried-
- ‘To kill her. I tried to kill her. I-’
To focus her attention on something more distant than Enid’s thoughts. On something far away from there, were she couldn’t-
- ‘Get hurt.’ -Upon hearing Wednesday's voice, she takes a drag from her cigarette, which nearly triggers a violent coughing fit- ‘She got hurt and now what? What do I do now? Should have done worse. Should have killed her where she stood.’
And so it’s the travel back to the hotel
As they cross the hotel door and step into the reception, Stylan instinctively notices it, much like when you're at home, you glance out the window and instantly gauge whether it's cold or warm outside.
She notices the silence. An unexpected quietness, even dangerous.
Except for Morris, who waits diligently in his seat behind the reception desk for any customer needing a room at five in the morning. His weary expression changes immediately with the arrival of the family and he quickly stands up- "Betancourts!"
- “Good night, Morris.” -Psyche salutes him without many interest- “We are going to bed, it was a long night and-”
- “Miss Betancourt wanted to speak with Miss…” -looks askance at Enid, whose eyes were lost in a fog- “Miss Raven…”
The Addams dismissed him in a rude kind of way, walking straight to the elevator, never letting go of Enid’s hand- “None of that.”
- “But, Miss-!”
- “I said none of that.” -pressed the button and waited without patience; a starving lion waiting for its piece of bloody meat- “No. None of that.”
The three kids don’t dare to say anything to her. If they simply dared to make a misstep…everything would go to hell. And it wasn't a metaphorical way of referring to the situation... She would be perfectly capable of unleashing hell at Fortuny. At Fortuny, or all across San Francisco, if she had the chance. So they go to their rooms, but opt to take the stairs.
The Addams’ hands slightly tremble as she reaches for the keys on her trench coat’s pocket. She has to fight to maintain control of the situation, bearing the weight of Enid's body with her own, as it constantly threatens to collapse, to sink her knees to the ground and let nature take its course, allowing it to consume her- "Come on, Enid…" -the sight of the bed brings her no relief whatsoever. She can barely guide Enid onto it, who can't control her sobs, nor her occasional raspy cries of anguish. "Shhh…" -seeing the blonde curled up in a fetal position on the sheets that weren't even bothered to be straightened after the previous encounter, hurt more than any stab, than any gunshot- "Calm down, love. Please, calm down."- It sounds as if she also wants to cry. When did she become like this? 'What have you done to me?' Enid asked her before... but the truth was different.
What had they done to each other?
She feels as clumsy as a first-time mother, unsure how to provide the agent with any comfort, at least not with words. She can only coo, emitting more soft and rhythmic 'shhh' while kneeling on the floor and starting to untie her shoelaces. Enid offers no resistance, but she doesn't try to cooperate either. The shoes make two synchronized 'thuds' as they hit the marble. The socks soon follow. Without knowing why, she gives a gentle kiss to one of her bare ankles before standing up again. Nothing, not a response. Just more cries muffled by the pillow- "Enid, love…" -her hands move timidly towards her belt, but stop there- “May I? - she waits again, now feeling more like a spider than a famished lion. A spider waits. It can wait. Its trap of protein silk threads won't disappear. Enid seems to momentarily pause her crying…to acquiesce and surrender, with a slight nod of her still-hidden face-"Let us get you comfortable."
But look at that! Her hands have never trembled so much as they do now. Oh no. Why is there something even more intimate than this? Nothing has ever brought her as much fear as unfastening the agent's belt…devoid of any hint of sexual desire, not a trace of lust. No. This is something even more intimate. It's undressing, without any desire to possess or be possessed. It's stripping her bare until there's nothing left. Vulnerability. She just wants her skin against her own, but not out of selfish and wild impulse. What else can she do? Contact. Warmth. Affection. Love? Is this it then? They understood each other well in bed. But could they…comprehend each other in bed? Is this what Gomez and Morticia did when no one was watching? When she and Pugsley slept? Oh, blessed hell, is this it?
Oh, Satan. Is THIS it?
There’s still a lingering scent of sea salt on her skin, barely a whisper of ocean that has become trapped in her pores. Her jeans slide lovingly down her toned legs, traced with scars of ancient platinum. She lowers her pants leisurely, not a hint of violence. They are discarded to the floor, not bothering to even fold them; wrinkles are unimportant now.
How could they be important when the ivory skin is calling her name?
Leaning towards Enid, in an almost feline posture, she starts again at one of the pale ankles, and ascends…calves, shins, every part of the milky and tender thigh. Enid still cries…but slower when realizes she's whispering things to her as she conquers every millime- No. Every micrometer in sight. The blond, almost imperceptible hair bristles under her lips, and there's a precise shiver that pierces the agent like an incendiary arrow when there's one in particular, softer than the rest, on the inner part of her thigh. When, despite still lying on her side, she has slightly moved her left leg to allow her access, it remains a mystery…just like what Wednesday utters between her delicate administrations.
But let's not be mistaken; her hands don't stay still either. Each kiss is mimicked by her still sore fingers on the right leg: sometimes she thinks they are circles and geometrical patterns. Other times, it seems they trace words. They are brushes. Brushes that are painting something only the assassin can see. There is another smell, the smell of her intimacy, so characteristic, that it forces her to stifle a curse, intoxicated. Fingers skillfully plant themselves on the curve of her hip, on the edge of her black panties- “May I?”
A shaky whimper, just as her stomach trembles. Addams is capable of hearing the fabric of the pillow, and by the slight movement she sees on the werewolf woman's neck, she knows she is nodding again, giving her permission to continue. It is both ceremonial and sacrilegious, the moment her panties are pushed aside. Another shake of pleasure, another whimper. The darker blond pubic hair, its penetrating scent. And how did the artists, when painting in front of nude models imitating a bucolic Venus, Judith, and Salome, bloody and seductive, were able to share? If Enid were one of them... she would never expose her to the public. Never. In a museum, facing eyes that would devour the oil like a pack of (wolves) beasts?
Oh, never in a million years. Never. If she could be capable of representing this skin in a painting, it would be hers. Hers and no one else's. In her chest trembles the demon of possession, of greed. Sinner. Let them call her that if they want. Sinner, selfish, greedy. Yes, she is. Without an ounce of shame, she admits it and takes pride in it. No…that would be her painting. Her vision. Her torment. Even if the spirits of all the artists who have ever existed in human history could bless her for a moment with their talent, she would be incapable of portraying such divinity with pencils, pigments, charcoal, or ink.
- “Cara mia.” -her own voice scares her. It terrifies her, with a trembling cadence, with reverential adoration- "Oh cara mia…" -Enid moans, clutching the pillow, as Wednesday's face ends up against her intimacy after another kiss on the inner thigh. She inhales softly, now caressing the delightful hips. The agent has ended up on her back, but the pillow still hasn't left her face. She clumsily mumbles something in Gaelic, overwhelmed by the display of chaste and sincere kisses, while Wednesday tries to control her breathing. She presses her cheek against the pubic hair and sighs with the thighs that enclose her face, overwhelming her to a point where she no longer knows where her body begins and Enid's ends. But there's still more…damn hell, there's so much…so much more…- “Meine Liebe"
Enid's shirt, raised up to her chest, allows her to see her flat stomach, with slightly noticeable abs. Every time Enid's chest rises and falls (now at a faster pace), every time she shudders, they become a bit more defined. And a sculpture? If Enid was stone…if she was made of marble, she swears to God that as cold and dead as she might be, she would still embrace her. As she unbuttons each button of her shirt, so slowly that it's almost puritanical, she can't separate her mouth from the young woman's stomach. And higher, higher- "Dear Satan. Someone like you can not possibly be real." -she whispers as she moves her hands to Enid's back. Now there's no need for a question: she herself lifts her back from the bed, allowing her access; the moment she unfastens the clasp of the bra, she finally hears Enid…unable to discern exactly what she said- "Amor mío…"
- “Raven.” - when she whimpers her (nickname) name, she feels a part of her goes crazy. She lifts her face, and though she can't see Enid's face right now, she keeps waiting. She can wait. The shirt is forgotten in some corner of the bed, along with the whitish bra. After another kiss on the scars that cross the left side of her body, just over the ribs, she rests her ear on her sternum. The beat of her heart is frantic, like that of a runner in the longest marathon in the world. If she closes her eyes, she can see the blood reaching the resounding organ through her aorta and pulmonary vein, supplying oxygen to such a heroic body. The passage through the atria and ventricles. The exit through the vena cava and pulmonary arteries.
Blood. She has never wanted to see blood inside a body so much…never. May it stay there. She wants to keep listening to such a symphony for the rest of her life. Her face approaches one of her breasts (the left one, of course) and how could it be otherwise, she floods it with more kisses, while caressing the right one leisurely, with minimal force. When she captures the nipple, hard as a bullet, between her lips (barely any pressure), a needy Enid babbles her name again, louder, yet still muffled behind the soft pillow- “Raven…”
Raises her head and places both hands on the bed, at the sides of Enid’s head, trapping the bigger girl under her. Tender shame when she asks- “May I see your beautiful face, my wolf?”
Just an instant of doubt. The cover is retired and she sees.
She knows.
‘It is.’ -her subconscious answers her- ‘It is. Perhaps it has always been. Perhaps it just had to be.’
- “Raven…” -weakened plea. Wednesday had heard her, but…
But the curve of her clavicle. The side of her neck, the line of her jaw. The rosy lips, slightly parted in a beggar's plea for attention, so soft. The adorableness of her nose, the cheeks (both the wounded and the intact) flushed and with the slight sheen of tears still running down them. The hair, in a parade, in a spectacle of wheat, of gold leaf, with its innocent blush of virgins and lapis lazuli blue of the regals. The cerulean eyes, darkened, yet shiny as gemstones.
She doubts her own beliefs. Comets a heresy.
Could the Devil exist and create something so pure, so beautiful?
Or is it precisely He who created her, for God would feel so, so jealous of never being able to dare to shape such a sinful, ethereal creature that he would have erased her from the face of the Earth the moment she set even one foot upon it?
- “Oh, dear.” -mumbles clumsily, something tearing her stomach apart when one of Enid’s big yet careful hands took place, resting the warm palm against her cheek, cupping her with delicacy- “Oh, my dear…Enid, love-” -mumbles, again on again, whispering sweet nothings as she leans against it, even dares to kiss it- “My love…” -a thumb traced an arch on her cheek.
- “Don’t cry…”
Has she been crying? For how long then?
- “I am not.” -but she sounds like she has been choked. Her throat hurts and there is a broken snuffle- “I am just-oh Enid, love.” -Enid, goddamn Enid Sinclair, the one who has been crying all night, the one she was supposed to console, had now a smile of empathy that crushed whatever soul (if she had one) may reside in her body.
- “I’m fine.” -whispers, but another tear runs down her left eye, lazily and solitarily traveling down the curve of her face- “I’m-” -but she is lying, because she bites her bottom lip in that way she does when she is frustrated, or when she wants to lie, but is unable to- “I…may I…” -her other hand finds Wednesday’s nape, tangling her fingers on the coaly hair- “May…”
When the Raven tilts her head towards her, her breath catches involuntarily. Not yet. The Addams knows how to savor every moment before the kiss. When she speaks, her thin, soft lips brush against hers, leaving her speechless- “What do you want, darling?” -can’t avoid a low, pleased grunt when there's a gentle tug in her hair, impatient and searching.
- “Please…” -the agent pleads once more. Her rapid breath against hers- “I need you.”
And she can't resist, she can't. The contact is tender, as all the previous ones were. She presses her lips against the werewolf's, who whimpers with enthusiasm, raising her other hand to the assassin's back, sinking her claws into the space between her shoulder blades, entwining her legs around her waist, wanting (needing) her even closer. With the desperate bite to her lower lip, and the mistreatment to her back, where hundreds of scratches from the werewolf still remain, Wednesday feels the pleasant tickle of masoch*stic excitement, a well-known warmth settling in her stomach. She allows the werewolf to bite more until she draws blood, until she is satiated, constantly panting. Her eyes close when the blonde's tongue traces the wound. Her own tongue follows it, seeks it, and when it finds it, it plays with it with a lasciviousness that is hard to contain.
The taste of her own blood and Enid’s saliva in her tongue, as she slides and conquers Enid’s inner cheeks doesn’t have the right to taste that good. Moves her hips forward and Enid’s slit makes contact with her clothed stomach, making both hiss between their teeth- “Can we-can-...I need to…” -admits, talking the best she could between kisses- “Please.”
- “We need to take you to the shower, love. Treat your wounds.”
- “But I’m fine…”
- “Enid.” -scolds her with great affection- “Do not argue. You need a shower and we have to see those scratches. You left some blood in the sheets and as much as I love that sight, I do not think you’ll sleep as soundly as I drenched with it.”
- “But-” -got silent with the Raven’s eyes behind that mask. Growls, ashamed, trying to control the need for contact that has been bothering her- “Goddammnit…okay.”
- “Good girl. Let's go.” - a couple of soft pats on her thigh as she starts to get up. Enid wraps her arms around the young woman's neck and crosses her ankles over her lower back, trapping her.
- “You're going to be able to with my—?” -the Addams lifts her effortlessly, seemingly without a problem- “Oh, wow.” -she lets out a soft giggle, amused, and buries her face in her neck, enjoying being carried to the bathroom like a princess. Seats the blonde on the edge of the bathtub. The young woman trembles slightly at the contrast of the cold marble against her bare thighs. Enid is unable to let her go, still encircling her dark neck with her bloodied arms as the Addams opens the faucet and they wait patiently, in silence, for it to fill with warm water, just as the agent likes it
- “Come on, in you go.”
- “What about you?”
- “After you, Enid. You first.” -under her orders, unable to resist the killer's cold and indifferent tone, with that sweetness she tries so hard to keep inside, she carefully enters the water with a grateful sigh. As she sits in it, the water practically covers her chest as she hugs her own knees. Looking at the enormous bathtub, Wednesday feels Enid so small, so wounded- “Now, your arms.” -with heaviness, she obeys again, and the killer carefully examines the marks that are not yet, but someday will become new scars. Bloody half-moons, irregular grooves. She stands up and brings the first aid kit from a small cabinet above the toilet, then sits back on the edge of the bathtub, now holding a bottle of iodopovidone in one hand, antiseptic alcohol and a bit of cotton in the other- “You know how this works. It is going to sting like hell."
- “S’alright…” -mumbles tilting her head forward and resting her cheek against her knees, exposing in a tense curve her back, where you could trace the outline of her spine. With diligence, Wednesday wets the cotton ball with alcohol and begins to disinfect. Every now and then, the young woman inhales a shaky breath, resisting the uncomfortable stinging sensation; but the cotton, with small expert nurse-like touches, soothes. She only watches her attentively as she tends to her, her blue eyes inspecting the masked killer's concentrated face. “Your hands…”
- “Enid.”
- “What did you do?”
- “I-”
- “What have you done, Raven?" –she furrows her brow- "And don't lie. I know when you do. Well, aside from…all that.
- “I…" she whispers, slightly embarrassed. The cotton ball is now soaked with iodine, staining the werewolf woman's arms in ochre- “I couldn't help it. When I saw you…with everything you had told me—I know I should have not gone to your house, I—”
- “Without you, my father would still be in that disgusting bed. And…” -she clicks her tongue and groans, embarrassed, still feeling like crying- “I would have…”
- “You wouldn't have killed her, Enid.”
- "You don't know that.” -retorts, drowned in shame.
- “I do.”
- “I had my hands around her neck. And the more she suffered…the more I enjoyed it.” -shook her head, displeased. When the arms are healed, Wednesday forces her to look at her, holding her chin gently.
- “Look at me, my beautiful wolf. I need to tend to the cut on your eyebrow.” -she hushes her when Enid complains softly. It's a slightly deep cut, almost at the end of her eyebrow, where hair probably won't grow back, leaving a clean groove as a separation- “I know, love. Endure. And I know you would have not done anything, Enid. You are a good person."
- “Sometimes I feel like you've contaminated me.” -the reproach in her voice makes the Addams' heart ache- “Sometimes I feel like you dig into corners of my head that I don't understand, or don't want to understand. That there are dark things in me. Things I don't want to see…all the anger…I feel like you feed on it." -she admits with closed eyes and a slight frown, resisting the pain-"In a few weeks, I almost kicked the bucket two or three times. I've killed already with you…but that was my wolf; it wasn't me. Well, it was me but it was my…other me. The one I can't control. The one that scares me.”-her lips slightly part when she feels the change from alcohol to iodine- “This one was me."
- “Sinclair.”
- “But still.” -she interrupts- “Still, when I saw you there. When your hands were on mine…no one had ever seen me like that, except Yoko, when Tyler happened.” -her voice trembles a bit as she opens her eyes and fixes them on the young woman, who has finished with her medical administrations- “You saw me, and you were still there. I know you're a sad*st. That not everything inside you is love. No, far from it. You're cruel, unjust, ruthless, and you're a monster. You're the monster that tends to mine. You could have stayed still, watching her die, or killed her yourself. But you gave me a choice, avoiding me a regret that would have followed me my whole life.” -her voice breaks a little, just a little bit- “You saved me.”
- “I promised you. You're not going to end up in jail. Your hands will always remain clean.” -she whispers and gives her a gentle kiss on the temple, close to her wound
- “What did you do to her?”
- “Less than I would have liked.” -she admits as Enid seeks her hands, tracing half-moon arcs over her swollen and reddish knuckles- “Much less.”
- “Are we going to get in trouble for this?”
- "Your mother isn't stupid. If she calls the police, it won't end well. She's been constantly abusing your father, a person with physical needs. She's not going to report us, much to her regret.”
- "I should hate you for hurting her but I can't help but feel…"
- "Grateful?"
- "It's not even gratitude what I feel…" -she whispers, raising the killer's hands to her mouth. Affectionately, she begins to place kisses (some chaste, others open-mouthed, sometimes allowing her to feel her tongue and teeth, causing a pleasant shiver in her legs)- “I don't even know what to do with you.” -she admits with a chuckle, but then she starts crying slowly again- “I don't know what to do, Raven... please, tell me something... what do I do with you? How do you expect me to do something like this for me? A part of me has healed. Dad is safe, dad is fine, and you're going to pay for his treatment…” -she rests her tender cheek against the wounded hands- “You. And what have I done for you? I haven’t do sh*t.” -when Wednesday’s hands cupped both of her cheeks, she leaned into the touch. The tears that flow are diligently wiped away- “Why me? I’m…I’m nothing. You don’t need me.”
- “What have you done for me, you ask?” -for the first time in a while, she finally smiles, barely a smirk- “What have you not done, it’s the correct question. Enid, for the first time in my life, I think I can be happy. That I can be happy. That I am able to do more than just harm. I think I can…” -she whispers, leaning precariously towards Enid, still sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Enid's wet nakedness, compared to her pristine clothes still covering her, was an intimate and sincere contrast. "I know I can love. Because I love you. I think my parents would be happy for me, for allowing someone into my chest, when it was my dead fortress. Yes. Now I like the color.” -she wishes to rest her forehead against hers, but she can't. Not yet. What a curse, what a salvation! That damned mask!- “Now I like life. Warm skin.”emphasizes her words, unable to let go of Enid's flushed cheeks- “Do you know the fear this gave me, Enid? The power to love? Those were my sharks. Allowing myself something like this. But then you had to show up, with that stupid face, that foolish smile, and this heart." -one of her hands stops at Enid's sternum. The young woman lowers her knees, exposing herself completely, overwhelmed. Her heart trembles like that of a trapped bird- “Your heart, Enid. Forgive me for allowing you to unleash your anger, for changing you. But I also deserve an apology. Look what you've done to me."
- “We're a mess.” -admits, trying to cover a sad smile.
- “I know.” -mutters as Enid's hand, discreetly ascending her right arm, seeks for her nape.
- “But we work.” -shrugs her shoulders- “I don't know why, but we work.”
- “Wonderfully, if I may say so myself.”
Enid chuckles…but her eyes briefly looked away from her- “I…I really wanted her to love me.” -bites her bottom lip, sobbing- “I really did.”
- “I know, cara mia.” -she allows Enid to rest her head against her thigh, tenderly stroking the golden hair- “I'm sorry, Enid. Truly.”
Enid bites her lip, trembling, holding onto Wednesday's waist like a lifeline- “Do you think that your parents…that I…”
- “Oh, Enid.” -she gasps, moved. She leans towards her to give her a clumsy kiss on her head, petting her constantly. "Oh, Enid. They will lo—" -she closes her eyes tightly- “They would have loved you.”
- “I just want them to be okay.” -she whimpers even louder, soaking the young woman's black jeans. "I just want them to be okay, please, let them be okay. I want them to love you again. I want—"
- “Shhhhhh…it's okay…”
- “Why didn’t she love me? Why is she still alive? Why are your parents missing and they are still out there?!” -she gasps for air before sobbing with a crushed soul- "It's not fair!” -screamed in a child like manner- “It’s not f*cking fair!!”
- “It isn't.” -she reassures her- “No, it isn't.”
- “Please…” -she lifts her head, distraught- “Please come…”
- “Shhh…I am on it. Allow me." -she stands up and starts unbuttoning her shirt. Enid leans her arm on the edge of the bathtub, her cheek against the iodine-fresh skin, waiting, looking at her with helpless puppy eyes- “Do not gaze at me like that.”
- “Like what?”
- “Like a needy, tiny pup.” -smiles when Enid mumbled something under her breath, embarrassed- “Now now, may I have a seat?” -the blonde hurriedly moved away. When Wednesday was going to take off her pants, a couple knocks on the door of the hotel room that made both turn their heads to the sound.
- “Someone knocked.”
- “It does not matter.” -resolves, her hand searching for her belt. Another stream of knocks, this time more audible- “Goddamnit!”
- “Raven, go check.”
- “But–”
- “It’s okay. Go check.” -mumbles, still with her forearms resting on the edge of the tub; her face leaning against them, looking at her with a sweet smile- “Don’t get mad, it’s alright. Go on.”
Can’t avoid groaning, displeased by the interruption. Closes the bathroom door behind her and gets to the door in a couple of quick steps. She opened the door with such anger that her own hair flowed with the current of wind- “What do you want?”
- “Wed–Raven.” -Arlette corrects herself- “We have a problem.”
- “I don't have time for this.” -the serial killer responds coldly, about to close the door again. Her elegant burgundy horn heel obstructs her path. “Arlette, I swear to you–”
- “You don't have to talk to me.” -she admits, offering her a mobile phone- “But you do have to talk to them. Call Fester first. Then your brother.” -she turns, leaving Wednesday stunned, with the electronic device in her fist- “I won't deal with the consequences of your actions anymore. Oh no, I'm old. Old…and fed up. Tomorrow at four in the afternoon, I want you both at reception to prepare the plan. Not a minute later. I swear to Mammon, if it weren't for my kids telling me what happened, I'd drag you through every hallway of my hotel.” -she turns her head slightly towards Wednesday, observing her over her shoulder. There's a sympathetic weakness in her voice, barely audible- “Call them. Get your damn life together and try to rest for tomorrow, that's the only thing I can say.”
- “Arlette.” -she mentions her name, and the woman waves her hand in the air, overwhelmed. The click of her heels as she leaves the suite's hallway replaces anything she might have said. She looks at the phone in her hand for a moment, hating its buttons, the hard cover protecting them, its ostentatious antenna. Motorola MicroTAC 9800X, the latest model available on the market, as it could not be otherwise. She opens it and turns it on, finding only two numbers registered. She turns, looking at the room, the closed bathroom door, where a thin line of light escapes underneath. With a sorrowful sigh, she approaches it and knocks a couple of times- “Enid?”
- “Yeah?"
- “I need to make some private calls, it's urgent. I won't be long, I'm sorr–”
- “Don't worry, it's okay. I'll wait here.”
- “I…of course.” -she coughs a little, uncomfortable- “Really, I–”
- “Raven.” -a clear, lazy chuckle- “Come on…”
She leaves the room, obeying the agent with a sigh. She won't deny it, she wishes she had more pride. She wishes she could resist, but she can't. If Enid asked her to jump off a cliff…she'd only ask about the distance to the bottom of the cliff. Not out of fear; just mere curiosity.
As she lights a cigarette, she dials Fester's number, which seemed like the number one priority. She waits patiently, enjoying the pleasant cold of the early morning.
- “Fester?”
Silence on the other end of the line.
- “Fester. Arlette told me something's wrong. What's the problem?”
Unfortunately, Wednesday would never know. Yoko's gun, with its cold lead barrel, pressed softly against the temple of the new patriarch of the Addams, who left the call on speaker under her command.
- “Wednesday.”
- “Fester, what happened?” -Yoko's eyes widened, hyper dilated, adrenaline-fueled after hearing the cold, dead voice- "What happened, Fester? I demand an explanation."
After a dictatorial glance of the vampire, Fester swallows nervously- “Wednesday…we had a problem."
- “What problem. Speak clearly.”
- “When Nympha and Satyro left the bunker…the werewolves had implanted trackers, Wednesday.” -he admits, running a hand over his sweaty scalp- “They caught us, Wens.”
- “...Trackers?”
- “Exactly what you heard. Trackers. They intercepted their van and ran them off the road. Nympha is here, with her boyfriend, with us but she has compartment syndrome.” -Yoko nods, allowing him to tell the truth- “We had to perform risky surgery. She's stable now, but her leg–”
She would like to think that the sinister pang that pierced her spinal cord is nothing but the remnants of the cocaine she ingested the night before. Or that it's a silent threat of an impending stroke, but she knows it's not. It's the cruel way her body tormented her and made her aware of her lack of control over the situation. She manages to sit on one of the terrace chairs and inhales deeply and tremblingly on the cigarette, almost extinguishing half of it; the bitter taste of smoke almost makes her feel better.
Almost.
- “Satyro. Where is Satyro?”
- “They took him, Wens.”
- “No.”
- “The traffickers, they took hi–”
- “NO! NO! NO!” -Her rest on the chair is brief, as upon getting up, she immediately kicks it, dragging herself across the parquet floor- “WHY AM I HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW?!”
- “We tried to contact you! We–”
- “No, no, no. Impossible.” -she runs a hand through her bangs, pushing them back, trying to think rationally- “What happened? Did Arlette send anyone?”
- “There are a couple of Arlette's investigators on the road where it happened. They found what Ulrich said: two bodies at the bottom of a ravine, besides the van. But so far nothing, no trace.”
- “Damn it!” -she removes the mask from her face, throws it on the ground, and pinches the bridge of her nose with closed eyes, trying to focus- “God damn it.”
- “We need you to come back, Wednesday.”
- "You've got to be kidding me." -Wednesday responds with acidic irony- "Three days. Three damn days in San Francisco and everything goes to hell. Damn it." -she mutters, annoyed, while pinching the bridge of her nose again- "Damn it, I know it's not your fault. That you did what you could, but…how the hell did this happen? Trackers? I should have figured. Sons of bitches."
- "We need to find him, Wednesday. Please, we need you to come back now. Call Vitali and come back to New York with the agent." -Yoko nods coldly to the older Addams- "Please–"
- "No."
- "Wednesday?"
- "No. Not a chance. I'll come back tomorrow."
- "HOW?!" -Ulrich interrupts, furious. Yoko points at him, without hesitation, but he completely ignores her- "Tomorrow?! Addams, your cousin could be dead! Or worse! And you have the balls to say you'll come back tomorrow?! Nympha lost a leg because of YOU!"
- "My cousin lost a leg looking for YOU so don't you dare put that burden on my shoulders. Oh no, enough of that."
- "ON ME? You're the one who let them leave with the van while you were fooling around with Enid!" -he spits shamelessly- "They did their job, the job you sent them to do, Wednesday. And now your cousin is God knows where, with God knows who, and your cousin had to have a damn leg amputated. And you're capable of saying you'll come back tomorrow."
- "And I'll come back tomorrow."
- "f*ck you."
- "Look, Ulrich. The day you're an Addams, you'll have the right to rebut me all you want, but for now your voice and vote are more than null. Satyro and Nympha work for me as you well said, and I think both are fully aware of the consequences. I was going after the big fish, the ones that really matter. I think you should be grateful that you're even alive, because to me, your life, on a personal level, meant jack sh*t. Yes, of course, I care about the lives of werewolves and all outcasts subject to abuse and slavery, but if you really want to win a chess game, you go for the king, not the bishops, I don't know if I'm being clear or if you need to clean out your ears of wax." -she sharpens her gaze, as if she had him right in front of her- "Do. Not. Dare. To suggest that what happened to Nympha is my fault. I'll come back tomorrow and find my cousin, whatever it takes. But tomorrow. I haven't been chasing my parents for years to let this opportunity slip away."
- "Your parents, your parents. All I hear is about your parents. What about the rest of your family?!"
- "I have nothing more to say. I'll be there tomorrow." -she didn't give him time to continue speaking. She hangs up the call and tries to calm her breathing, feeling an urgent need to empty her guts. She holds her stomach as she sits back down in another chair, breathing heavily. She dials Pugsley's number, who takes much less time to answer.
- "Sister."
- "Pugsley, what the hell is going on? I just called Fester. Nympha–"
- "Sister, we're at the airport, we're going to New York."
- "...How to New York? No. No, no. Stay in Milan, don't you dare! Pugsley, don't you da–"
- "Wens…we're with Tyler."
Her mouth falls open in a confused grimace. She can't help but laugh- "What? Hahaha, Tyler? Pugsley, what–"
- "He came to look for you here in Milan, Wednesday."
- "WHAT?!" -and the process repeats. Getting up from the chair. Kicking it to the other end of the terrace- "WHAT?!?!?!"
- "We tried to call you but–"
- "HOW DID HE COME TO LOOK FOR ME?!"
- "He caught me off guard. I don't know how the hell he did it, but he knows everything now, Wednesday. We have to–"
- "Where is he?"
- "He's here with us." -Hydrangea calmly explains- "Sleeping like a baby. It was easier to control him than we thought."
- "Control him…" -Wednesday laughs again, pulling on her bangs- "Control a Hyde. You must be kidding."
The explanation of the process is brief and concise, in the way Wednesday appreciates the torrent of information. The gears in her head worked at their maximum speed.
- "A plant in the brain." -she confirms to herself- "That's your plan, a plant in the brain? A puppet?"
- "Only until you come back from San Francisco and we decide what to do with him. We can have absolute control over his body for a week, maybe five days minimum. If anyone found out he was here, and disappeared from here, we'd have half the Interpol on our asses." -Pugsley tries to calm his older sister- "Finish your mission in San Francisco, Wednesday, it's top priority. Are you sure Recton might know something?"
- "90% sure. What does Tyler know?"
- "...everything, Wednesday. Everything."
- "Even about Enid–"
- "Especially about Enid."
She starts laughing again; her mind is assaulted by the intrusive thought of throwing the phone off the rooftop, but she knows how to control it. Her clenched fist around the plastic of the device throbs painfully- "Everything, uh?"
- "Wednesday."
- "Keep an eye on him, but follow from a distance. Normal life, you have to make him have a normal life. Sunday morning I'll be back in New York. Pugsley, listen to me. Everything, everything you do, everything that happens, you call me. Never again in your life make a decision like this on your own. It was a good idea, and it'll buy us some time, but never do this again, Pugsley."
- "Wednesday, I–"
- "That's enough."
After hanging up, she tries to articulate an appropriate breathing rhythm, feeling her heart instinctively pumping blood to her temple, where it tends to accumulate in moments of tension. The desire to drop the phone from the rooftop and make it shatter against the ground hundreds of meters below is disturbingly appealing.
- “Bunch of useless people." -she whispers quietly- “A few days away and they already…”
But wasn't she also to blame? Instead of accompanying Nympha and Satyro to a safe place, she preferred to dance in the company of the agent, in the bunker where life seemed so simple. Instead of having a firm grip on Tyler (the memory of Hyde left her on the verge of a gag, provided by disgust and fear), she thought it would be easy. That he would forget. But of course she had to forget the tiny detail…Tyler was crazy.
Thank Satan she was crazy too.
She knows she should feel guilty. Damn, she knows it. Missing cousin, crippled cousin, and one-eyed little brother. It would be extremely easy. Call Vitali, take the jet. In just four hours she would be back there. Piece of cake. Go see Pugsley first, and bury Hyde in a deep grave…still alive. Until there's no oxygen left. As for Satyro, she's sure she'll manage fine. Investigate the scene and close the circle: almost all the werewolf traffickers in the area had similar modus operandi…and many, many connections. Once she found one, it would only be a matter of pulling the thread.
But.
But what if it was him? And if Recton was the final piece? How to let such an opportunity slip away? No.
And Enid?
‘Especially about Enid.’
She's not capable of ruining just one life. It has to be five. If not, she won't be satisfied. And she knows she's not doing it consciously. Do you ask a scorpion not to sting, or rain not to wet?
You can’t ask her to change her nature.
Her steps are quick as she returns to the hotel room. She can hear Enid humming an unfamiliar song to her, and her hand remains fixed on the doorknob. She closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the door, focusing her sense of hearing on the melody.
And she starts mimicking drums, she can already see her, with her head resting on the edge of the bathtub, moving her head and feet to the beat of the music. Holding her breath (because despite knowing what awaits her on the other side of the door, she can't help but let nerves dominate her), she puts on the mask and opens the door. Enid turns her head towards her, smiling sweetly.
- "Hello, little bird."
And that's it, there's nothing more. Outside the bathroom, there's nothing more, as if it were her second bunker.
- "Hello, wolf."
-"Mmmm… are you going to keep me waiting much longer?" -she asks, trying to raise an eyebrow, but the cut still stings. She inhales through her teeth with pain, and Wednesday approaches her to inspect the wound
- "Don't make sudden movements with your face, you could hurt yourself even more."
- "Blah blah blah…" -she murmurs, wrapping her arms around the assassin's neck- "Come here."
- "A little impatient, aren't you?"
- "Shut up. Come here." -she murmurs, unfastening the assassin’s belt. Wednesday allowed her with a sad smile, meanwhile taking off her shirt. When she's naked in front of the werewolf woman once again, she has a smile that, while mischievous, also denotes a playful innocence. She arches one of her eyebrows (this time, the healthy one) and let out a wolf whistle- "Goddamn, that’s what I wanted to see."
- “Screw you." -she mutters, feigning anger she doesn't really feel and crossing her arms over her chest. Enid hushes her and gently closes her hands around her forearms, with a teasing/affectionate smile.
- "Come on now…" -she helps her into the bathtub. The small, bronzed body of the serial killer slides against hers; it fits perfectly with that of the agent, sitting between her legs and resting her back against her chest- "Mmmh…" -she murmurs, wrapping her arms around her stomach in a protective and affectionate embrace, nuzzling her face against the curve of her neck. Wednesday sighs, grateful for the contact, and allows herself to enjoy the calm…until Enid asked- "What happened?"
- "Nothing important."
- "You seemed… more serious than usual when you came in." -she probes gently, tracing affectionate arcs with her thumbs over the young woman's ribs- "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"
She almost loses her breath; the sudden and trembling intake of air, a titanic effort to hide the cyclone of sorrow, to trap it in her throat and not allow it to see the outside. She manages to shake her head, but the hands that rested on the werewolf woman's forearms close around her arms like clamps; she doesn't mark the skin with her nails, but the pressure of her fingerprints leaves painful indentations in the flesh that turn whitish with a reddish circumference.
The werewolf woman immediately stops her hands, placing the extensions of her hands on her ribs, feeling her pulse, the action of the diaphragm, and the swelling-deflating of her lungs. She hushes her, this time more softly, with her lips brushing against the curve of her neck each time she exhales… occasionally, giving kisses to the skin covered in freckles in imaginary firmament of (Cinnamon? Coffee? Cocoa) melaninated oases.
- "Come on, little bird…mask off." -whispers, now resting her chin on her shoulder; occasionally giving a kiss that savors the slight smell of sea that still lingers on her pulse. She feels a pleasant relief when the assassin's fingers release their tension and spread out like flower petals. She waits patiently for her to reveal her identity, and moves to rest more comfortably against the bathtub wall. Raven seems so small now, hugging her own knees and hiding her face in them, moving away from the blonde. With her long arms, still with skin torn in irregular paths causing an annoying stinging sensation, she reaches for the showerhead and lightly bathes the young woman's long hair, which looks like shiny ebony with the moisture.
- "Enid…" -Raven whispers, overwhelmed. She couldn't stand it when someone touched her hair. Bianca had been an exception, but it always ended with the mood of a stray cat being invaded. She could endure Enid's hands (The sensation of her fingers tangled in her hair always gave her exhilarating shivers) but this gesture was even more intimate than the caresses to her hair that she indulged in when sharing a bed. The vulnerability mixed with a powerful sense of shame makes her shrink even more into herself, letting the water caress her nape, shoulders, shoulder blades, and scalp. When she speaks, the noise is muffled against her skin. She sounds shy, almost virginal- "What are you doing?"
- "I'm going to wash away the salt smell." -confirms in a neutral voice. When she finishes, she closes the tap again so as not to fill the bathtub even more, and spreads a generous amount of lilac shampoo in her hands- "Okay?" -even to perform an act of service, she asks for permission. Wednesday whimpered as she nodded; a sigh escaped her lips as soon as she felt the hands in her wet hair, rubbing in delicate and snail-paced circles until a foam of fresh lavender scent formed- "Your hair is beautiful, Raven." -she only speaks in a low voice. Interrupting the calm would be an insult- "So soft." -she whispers, sliding her fingers through the tips, ecstatic by the way it covers her shoulders down to her shoulder blades- "Beautiful." -Raven whimpered again, hugging herself tighter. The delicate massage continues for long minutes in which neither says anything else, not until Enid opens the tap and rinses her hair with the tenderness of a—
‘Mother, leave it.’ -small in the huge bathtub, with copper legs imitating the claws of a lion, cold metal and cold black Marquina marble brought from the north of Spain- ‘I am perfectly able to wash my hair alone.’ -grumbles annoyed, in an adorable pout. Morticia, in her memory, smiles at her, placing a hand on her cheek.
-‘I know you can, sweetheart, but you're still very little.’ -she shrinks her palm against her cheek in a tender squeeze, barely any force- ‘And we don't want you to get hurt; the soap can get into your eyes, and it stings a lot, a lot…’
- ‘But I've already tried playing with acid with Uncle Fester!’ -she crosses her arms, impassive, but still allows her to rinse her hair- ‘I can endure burns without any problem!’
- ‘Mmmm…I guess that’s true. But this isn't acid, is it?’
- ‘I guess not.’ -she mutters with a hint of anger in her voice- ‘But from tomorrow on, I'll do it myself.’
The Addams matriarch could only chuckle, amused by her first daughter- ‘Of course, my little rain cloud.’
Wednesday whimpered again, overwhelmed. She sighs when Enid presses her whole body against hers, surrounding her in a protective hug, with her chin on the young woman's nape- "Shhhhhh… c’mon baby. What happened?"
- "I'm fine."
- "Raven…"
-"I'm really fine…I just…" -she's been hesitating since she entered the room. Bringing the truth to light, airing the dirty laundry, the mistakes she's made… but she can't muster the courage to do it. After the previous madness a few hours ago, after the excruciating pain in her hands. She can't do this to Enid now. If she knew about Satyro…
If she knew about Tyler.
- "Ray…"
-"I'm really fine." -she finally releases her self-hug on her knees and leans back, resting her head against the agent's neck, her shoulder blades against her chest- "I just…love you very much." -admits teary-eyed as she holds Enid's hands (which haven't stopped encircling her stomach) and raises them to her lips, kissing their backs, their palms, the knuckles; the pulse of her wrist- "I love you so much, Enid." -she sobs, while Enid giggles and rubs her cheek against Wednesday’s head.
- “That’s all?” -snickers when Wednesday lightly smacked her forearm, but kissed her head, taking a good sniff of the lavender shampoo- “I love you too, silly bird…you saved dad.”
- “On Sunday, before coming back to New York we could…visit him if you desire.”
- “Are you sure? The mission–”
- “There’s plenty of time.” -reassures her, let go of her hands and moves her head to the side to briefly kiss her neck- “Did you already wash your hair?”
- “Mhmmhh…and body.” -a sigh escapes from her lips when Wednesday held her cheek, continuing to kiss the blonde’s neck, getting bolder, turning open-mouthed- “Now it’s your turn.” -grabs a little bit of shower gel of dark blue and covered her hands with it- “Arms up.” -Wednesday sighed filled with pleasure, elevating her arms, wrapping her hands around her nape. Enid began slowly, rubbing her dexterous hands on her shoulders, her arms, her armpits, covering her with foam. With a chuckle gently held Wednesday’s small tit* on her arms.
- “Enid…” -her breath catched on her throat, burying her nails on Enid’s humid hair, who just hummed, satisfied by the reaction. She rubbed them slowly, enjoying the nipples getting hard against her palm, making the smaller girl hiss between her teeth and puffing some air, holding a moan- “Enid…Mmh!” -with the pinching of her bronzed nipples Wednesday backed down, pressing her rear against Enid’s crotch, whose legs were open, allowing her lots of space, yet she presses the smaller girl body against her, wrapping a hand around her waist while the other continued to ‘mistreat’ her left breast. Pushed her hips a little bit forward, smiling wickedly; the contact was not enough under the water, but she could already feel herself getting slightly wet at the short moan.
- “Getting you nice and clean, bird.” -whispers suggestively against her hear, making Wednesday bite her bottom lip when the hands went south, rubbing circles on her ribs and stomach. Has to bite her own bottom lip, aroused, when Wednesday whispered her name and backed up again, whimpering when she felt Enid’s pubic hair against her buttocks and trashing when Enid moved from her hips to her stomach, not getting even close to her intimacy, rubbing the skiing of her thighs with a certain strength, one that left her breathless.
- “Pup…you-” -while one hand returned mercilessly to her breast, the other finally dived to her intimacy, just resting her hand there on her short, dark pubic hair but the fingertips so close to her cl*t. So close- “f*ck…Enid. Enid, Enid-!” -from whispers turned into a scream with the face contact, trying to muffle it against the skin of the blonde’s neck when Enid traced a couple of circles over the sensitive organ.
- “There, there…” -babbles, feeling like a pervert when she felt Wednesday hand’s tremble- “Right there uh? Feels nice?”
- “Sssss…sstoooop…there’s no…no time for this.” -tries to explain, fumbling with the words. Enid retired both of her hands slowly; even though she could feel the Raven’s arousal, she knew that this time, she was serious.
- “Sorry, couldn’t help myself…” -apologizes with a tender smile, placing a kiss over her wet hair- “I’m not in the mood either, really.. Do you feel like cuddling a bit?” -asks, looking for Wednesday’s earlobe and kissing it tenderly- “Sleep for a while?” -when Wednesday nodded, she was quick to get her out of the bathtub after she put on her mask. When both stood over the cold floor of the bathroom, dried their bodies and hair with a couple of towels and brushed her teeth next to each other, looking at themselves in the mirror. While they did, Wednesday had rested the side of her head against her arm, leaning the weight of it against the biceps of the werewolf.
The silence as they got in the bed it’s far from being an uncomfortable one. As the blonde lay on her side, Wednesday looked for her warmth, unavoidably adopting her position of little spoon. Enid quickly covers both with the sheets and wraps an arm around her body, bringing her closer, kissing from time to time the top of her head.
Fifteen, thirty minutes. Maybe even an hour passed, in which nothing was said. Enid, already feeling her eyes tired and heavy, felt herself drifting into the realm of dreams, sure that Wednesday was already asleep…until she dimly heard her call for her with shyness.
- “Enid…”
- “Mmmh?”
- “Sunday…”
- “Uh-huh?”
- “You will meet with Lauren’s sister, right?”
- “Uh…yeah. I think so…” -sighs, gripping her tighter- “sh*tting my pants just thinking about it.”
Forlornly, Wednesday curled even more against Enid- “Do you want me to-?”
- “No…no, don’t worry.” -mumbles and kisses lazily her nape- “Will take care of it…as soon as I’m finished I’ll join you…and we-” -a loud yawn; her semi-opened eyes closed again, slipping into the dream- “We keep looking…”
- “...yes.” -confirms out loud- “We keep looking.”
While Enid breathed heavily and snored from time to time, Wednesday, mask forgotten in the bedside table, kept contemplating the skyline: soon the sun will come out, but from now, the city was still dyed in a dark blue, which fighted tirelessly to maintain its obscurity. The variety of thoughts, a sort of buffet from the sweetest (the skin against her own, a sigh, a question, a tender torture) to the bitterest of them (a casket, a severed leg. Bulging eyes dyed in red; claws that never knew mercy) obliged her to keep her eyes wide open. The final solution. The anticipation. Tomorrow.
It’s not until hours later that she fell asleep, just as the indigo turned cerulean. A raven croaked outside, resting on the window sill to enjoy the arrival of the sun, but it wasn’t heard by either of them. They have drifted away.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The morning started well. As soon as she opened her eyes, the world seemed grateful to the blonde; the first thing she saw, extracted from the world of dreams, was the brown back sprinkled with tiny freckles around her shoulders. Wednesday had been awake for a long time already, dressed from the waist down in simple cargo pants (of course, black). Before she could put on her dark bra, Enid's hand lazily ascended her spine; as she was bent over, tying her shoes, the vertebrae protruded like an elegant mountain range against her taut skin. She liked her back, where the muscles timidly hid under the bronze, where the bones seemed prepared to never be broken. She pouted when it seemed like Addams was ignoring her, and slid one of her nails against the thoracic veins until she reached the lumbar. Finally, Wednesday seemed to want to turn her face towards her... but she couldn't. Not without being exposed.
- "Dog." -she called her seriously. Enid finally got up from the bed, burying her face between her shoulder blades, searching the young woman's stomach with the tips of her fingers- "Not now."
- Hmmm…what are you doing awake so early?"
- "Early? It's practically lunchtime. And we have the meeting."
- "Not even five minutes?"
- "Not even two. Let's go." -she moved away from her to put on the bra and a simple black long-sleeved shirt. Over it, a sleeveless checkered sweater in black and white. Enid grumbled, annoyed, lying back on the bed and covering her eyes with her forearm- "Enid…"
- "I'm coming, I'm coming." -he stretched lazily, rolled over in bed, and finally managed to sit up, planting her feet on the cold marble- "I'm a little scared to eat with your family, not gonna lie.”
- "Nothing's going to happen. Shiro seems delighted with you, and Fausto too. Psyche…I'll talk to Psyche later. And you don't have to worry about Arlette. If she's with Vitali, she'll have self-control, and she doesn't have anything personal against you."
Enid scoffed at her, shaking her head- "Yeah right. That makes me feel a lot better…" -she commented ironically, putting on a new pair of pants- "Eating with your cousins, each one stranger than the last, with your crazy demon aunt and your commie uncle who almost killed us on the jet." -she couldn't help but laugh out loud: said like that, it was almost funny-"I can't imagine Christmas dinners."
- "Less joking." -she replied, with a half-smile she tried in vain to hide. She got up from the bed and looked at her while she buttoned her shirt, and handed her a brush- "Here, start brushing your hair while I brush my teeth."
- "Yes ma'am. At your service, ma'am." -Wednesday chuckled softly, shaking her head. The morning routine felt good; it felt natural to perform simple self-care tasks with the blonde. Common things in cohabitation. How she laughed when she saw the corners of her mouth stained with mint foam. How she complained aloud trying to undo some knots in her hair. If only Enid didn't move so much in her sleep, her hair wouldn't be such a disaster. She, as she lay on the bed, on her back with her arms crossed over her chest, the most uncomfortable and cadaverous position possible, ideal for her, didn't move at all throughout the night…except that now whenever she sleeps, she unconsciously (or not so unconsciously) seeks the blonde's skin, her warm embrace.
And it's beautiful too. There's no romance in it, but that doesn't make it any less charming. Enid complains again, and even with the toothbrush in her mouth, Wednesday rolls her eyes and murmurs through her mouth- "Come here, you mess."
- "It's just so tangled…" -she whispers in an almost childish, embarrassed, tender way. Wednesday sits on the edge of the bed, and Enid sits on the floor between her legs with her back turned. She holds the comb in her hands and slowly runs it through Enid's hair, extremely careful not to hurt her. A repetitive process; holding the strand of hair, and carefully undoing the knot, enjoying its inherent softness- "Thank you…even though I feel like a child."
- "You are a child."
Enid laughs, and Wednesday is immediately obsessed with coaxing more out of her, any chuckle- "I'm sure I'm older than you!"
- "I think just by a year."
- "Enough for me." she looks at her sideways and chuckles, with eyes perhaps too wide open- "You look like a rabid bird, with that foam in your mouth."
- "Birds can't get rabies, Enid. Only mammals." -she smiles when Enid growls and manages to steal a bite of the tender flesh of her thigh- "Stay there, mutt..." -she finishes fixing her, gets up to the bathroom, and spits out the mouthwash, leaving the toothbrush in its place, in the glass next to Enid's. And that's beautiful too; both transparent, the typical ones included in the hygiene kit of each hotel room. Thin, as if they were almost going to break if you squeezed them too hard. She can imagine they're not like that. That they're the kind you buy at pharmacies, much less flimsy than these trinkets. One black. One black and one pink, waiting for both of them to come home. Enid comes, grabs hers, and starts brushing her teeth loudly under Addams' disgusted gaze. She spits in the sink and smiles at her.
- "I'm ready."
- "With that in your mouth you ain't." -she comments, wiping some toothpaste from the corner of her mouth- "Your lack of tidiness never ceases to amaze me." -she isn't surprised in the least when the blonde's hands end up on her hips and pull her closer, and she speaks with a vague, almost lazy attempt at seduction.
- "Tell me more nice things…"
- "You, for example, are one." -she holds her shoulders, wrapping her arms around them-"The prettiest one."
- "Smooth as f*ck, bird." -a sincere and chaste kiss, not wanting to overstep…lest they start something they can't stop.
It's a happy path as they approach the grand hall. Occasionally Enid pretends to try to make her trip... earning herself slaps that lack any force. Sometimes she dares to try to steal a kiss from her, but Wednesday 'pushes' her away with gentle shoves, trying not to laugh.
The hall is crowded with people. Packed, full, without an inch to spare. Round tables with dark garnet tablecloths, where the dishes of the day steam: orange seafood cream, prawns, snuff, hake... the tender meat of a lobster; its claw peeks out from the thick liquid like an elegant reminder of a shipwrecked boat on the coast; as a second option, gnocchi with mushroom sauce crowded with black pepper, with a pungent smell. The main courses were no joke either. Beef stew of palpable quality; small pieces, the kind that melts in your mouth. Eel stewed in green celery sauce, parsley, with chopped hard-boiled egg on top in a snowy layer. For dessert, a molten chocolate cake, which seemed like a perpetual volcano of cocoa, and tiramisu with an earthy dusting of cinnamon.
Bottles of wine, champagne, sparkling water, and cold beer shine on the tables, freshly tapped. They shine like jewels under the candelabras and chandeliers, with live music, no less. Vivaldi's string quartet, lest they interrupt their appetites with a twist or a Charleston. That will come later, after the sweets, with the digestifs at the bar. Martini or cognac?
- "Wow...holy sh*t." she murmurs as they pass along the bar, horseshoe-shaped and exquisitely Art Deco; the stools, which are usually so uncomfortable, almost call out to you to put your butt on their cushioned seats- "Jeez. Jeez and Mary," Wednesday shakes her head again, entertained by the blonde's impression, heading towards the end of the room- "Uh…where are they?"
- "In the private room." -a doorman, watching over the Betancourt-Frump's private corner, as soon as he sees the couple, opens the door diligently.
-"Of course there would be a private room." -she murmurs, feeling the tension creeping down her spine to settle in her knees. They enter, and once the door closes behind them, the discomfort moves down to their feet. The silence is eerie; it's not completely silent, of course, Vivaldi can still be heard (they've reached Winter) but under layers of silence, as if the musicians were from the Titanic and playing underwater. They are the last to arrive…and that doesn't help the young agent's terror. Each one is different. Fausto with a gadget Enid has never seen, holding it between his hands emitting constant beeps; it looks like a mobile phone, but it's not quite one. Shiro is sliding the tip of his index finger against the edge of his wine glass, making it whisper. Psyche is just reading a pocket novel, but the blonde can't tell which one, not understanding the title (Les Fleurs Du Mal, whatever the hell that might mean). The three of them are sitting together at the round table. There are two empty seats next to them, side by side.
- ‘Thank God. If we had to sit apart, I'd freak out.’ -she swallows loudly when she feels Arlette's eyes fixed on her. She is sitting next to the Soviet, both smoking a cigar. Vitali also looks at her, but with a smile between amused and compassionate…he doesn't have that chill that scares her- ‘This is going to be a sh*t-show, am I right?’
- "Wednesday. Fashionably late." -she murmurs, with wisps of smoke escaping from her thin, ruby-stained lips- "Doesn’t even surprise me."
- “Tout vient à point à qui sait attendre." -she responds elegantly, sitting in the chair. Enid looks around for a few seconds, making sure she could sit…until Wednesday pulls her shirt and forces her to take a seat.
- "Impudent.” -Betancourt replies, irritated. Fausto puts the console on the table, and Psyche does the same with her book. A waiter, with a pearl-gray vest, approaches with a few quick steps- "I'll have the cream."
Everyone except Fausto and Enid chooses the cream (the sight of the lobster's claw made her excessively uncomfortable, although she doesn't know exactly what gnocchi are). Shiro, next to her, whispers something to her.
- "What?"
- "I asked if you're alrigh-"
-"Yesterday I received a bill," Arlette explains, finishing her cigar- "Medical bill. Respiratory treatment for someone named Murray Sinclair." -she looks at Enid, with her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her knuckles, listening.
- “He..."
- "I know who he is. I'm not stupid, girl."
- "I made the payment," Wednesday interjects, placing her hands on the table. "I did it, she had nothing to do with it."
- "I know she had nothing to do with it!" -she finally yells, slamming her hand on the table- "How could she have anything to do with it! She's not as stupid or as selfish as you!" -she points at her accusingly- "It was you! It's always you, damn it!"
- "I didn't mean to cause any inconvenience, she just-" -Shiro manages to kick the agent’s shin, making her jump in her seat.
- "You don't understand that you're not the problem, it's her, her wanting to help you, her always wanting to please you. For you, whatever it takes, for us…not so much. Not for us, not for her brother, not for-"
- "Don't mention my brother." -she warns the redhead with her gaze-"Don’t."
- "My father…" -she whispers with a tearful tone- "I'm sorry, my father only-"
- "Your father will be fine." -Vitali finally manages to say something- "We'll take care of it, volk."
- "It's the least we can do after I dragged you into this." -when Wednesday whispers that Enid turns her head to her, placing a hand on her forearm.
- "No, no! Don't say that, I wanted to too! I needed to know... I need to know everything!"
- “Yes, yes, you love each other very much." -Arlette comments in a matter-of-fact tone; the waiter begins to serve dishes in front of the diners. It smells wonderful, but Enid feels her stomach clench. The conversation seems to have died.
- "But I–"
Shiro looks at Enid with wide eyes and mouths- "Not now. Eat."
- "But-" -Wednesday closed a hand around her thigh, making her jump in her seat again. Her eyes told her to eat. So she ate and immediately her mouth filled with saliva. It was excellent. One of the best things she had ever tasted, so her werewolf’s appetite invaded her, making her chomp down her plate as elegantly as she could. As they eat in their bubble of silence, the conversations outside swell with the music. They are changing now to another song, one Enid doesn’t recognize.
When they end, as the waiters take off the dirty plates, soon renewed with the seconds, Arlette begins again.
- "Psyche. What happened yesterday?"
The blonde gave her a quick glance, Wednesday noticed a familiar heat on her nape- ‘Wednesday. What-?’
- ‘Do it. Tell everything.’
- ‘I do not want to-’
- ‘Everything, Psyche. It’s alright.’
- “Yesterday we stumbled upon them by chance, on our way home. It was not planned at all, I swear, Mother.”
- “Continue.”
- “At a certain point, Enid saw something at an intersection. They were beating up a young man.” -her narrative accelerates more and more, her eyes fixed on some point on the tablecloth- “They almost killed him. He was... her brother.” -she looks at Enid with slight fear - ‘I'm sorry.’
- ‘Don't be.’ -she is surprised by the contact. It's not invasive. It's as if someone had knocked on a door that remained closed in some corner of her brain- ‘It's okay.’
- “The three of us stayed there while Enid and Wednesday helped her brother. His father is sick with cancer, his mother... Enid's mother. She's not a good mother. When she passed in front of us, her thoughts…I had never heard someone like that.”
- “And then?”
- “They took Mr. Sinclair to the hospital and we returned home.”
-“Is that all? And her mother?”
- “Taking care of.” -Wednesday interrupts her.
- “Taking care of, uh?”
- “I can assure you. She will not be a problem.”
Arlette kept looking at her for a moment, until she finally gave up. The waiter served all of them the beef bourguignon, and finally, the molten chocolate cake dessert. Despite feeling incredibly uncomfortable, Enid is able to eat without any issue; her mind rumbling with thoughts ranging from her father's delicate situation to Raven's words. Taken care of. She knows exactly what that means. She knows her mother isn't dead, but the wounds on her knuckles... she doesn't know what she was capable of doing, and that only scares her even more. Once the meal is finished, Arlette raises one of her fingers; the dark red nail polish shining under the candlelight.
- "A Spritz Aperol for me," she says.
Each one orders a glass of alcohol; the bitter taste of Scotch whiskey, the burn that settles in her stomach once it reaches her throat, mixed with the smoke of tobacco in her lungs sends a shiver of pleasure down her spine. She can feel her alcoholism resurfacing. She has gone days without a single sip of her favorite drink, and she receives it like an old lover. Raven watches her in silence, taking a small sip from her glass of absinthe.
- "Vitali, can you explain the plan? I'm too tired. Tired and bored," Arlette says.
- "Of course." -the Soviet man, after coughing several times, gets up apathetically from his seat. With a snap of his fingers, one of the waiters brings him a folder and some blueprints rolled up like ancient scrolls- "Very well. This will be brief, but complicated. I hope I don't have to repeat it, as we are only a few hours away from it beginning." -he says, opening the folder in front of him and showing a photo of a man in his forties, with slightly gray sideburns and a public relations smile- "Jones Stewart Recton. 41 years of age. Hereby of the PDM Recton. A regular client of this hotel; he owns various properties..." -he places numerous bureaucratic papers in front of the Addams and the agent- "In Spain, Guatemala, Los Angeles, Texas, and here, in San Francisco, as well as a paint factory on the outskirts of New York state. According to all sources, he's a normie through and through, lacking any trace of an outcast; we haven't found a single outcast in his entire family tree." -with his scarred finger with extremely short nails, he points to his photo- "This bastard has been circling trafficker circles for ten years, ever since he inherited his daddy's company. Since then, he has been climbing the ranks within them. Very clever; his name barely appears in many of the cases Gomez and Morticia solved, he tends to use others as a front; you won't find a single trace of guilt, except for his record at the Folies Bergeré under a pseudonym." -he says, passing the photograph to Enid and Wednesday. The agent cautiously observes the man's face in the photograph taken in a bar in Los Angeles. He has that mocking and pretentious smile she's accustomed to seeing on the big shots of the FBI. She leaves the evidence on the table and crosses her arms, listening to the man- "Almost certainly, under interrogation with torture, he'll sing like a canary or a fat lady in the opera. For some time now, Fester and I have been considering the idea of a major trafficking center in the old south, but unless we have his confession, we won't be able to confirm it..." -he removes the papers and presents an Art Nouveau-style brochure announcing a costume party... for that same night- "Since it's necessary to protect Wednesday's identity, Arlette and I have proposed a masquerade that will allow us to move around anonymously. But, in order to be discreet, we have to do the opposite." -he taps the brochure a couple of times with his finger- "At least half of San Francisco will be here tonight, including the press, so we have to be as discreet as possible. Fortunately..." -he takes a quick puff of his cigar, puts it in the ashtray, and opens the blueprints- "We have this wonderful building. Sinclair, come here, you need to see this."
The agent obeys and admires the blueprint with fascination. "What–?!"
- "That's right." -he points with a conspiratorial smile- "Let's thank H.H. Holmes for this idea."
Apparently, it was a normal blueprint of the first floor, with the exact measurements of the reception, banquet hall, ballroom, casino, bar, and warehouses…but it wasn't just that, no. At certain points in some of the rooms, there were small red X marks. Vitali takes out another blueprint, made of semi-transparent red paper, and puts it over the blue one. Enid, wide-eyed, watches as the X marks actually indicate points where secret rooms can be accessed. Enid can’t avoid mumbling, fascinated- “It can't be..."
- "Much of the walls, and above all, the space between the first floor and the garage, is hollow. It's there where we hide our weapons, money, and torture rooms." -he taps on one of the crosses in a bathroom near the casino- "But this room here is the key. In the last stall of the bathroom, on one of the tiles covering the wall, there's a switch hidden, of which Raven knows the location-" -the young brunette nods when the Soviet man looks at her- "We must do everything possible to lure Mr. Recton to this specific corner, alone. He's always surrounded by his goons, so it has to be a perfectly plausible excuse for him to separate from them." -he tilts his head slightly- "Arlette, as the hostess, must remain at all times in the casino, acting as you always do at these events. Psyche, tonight will be a tough night. We want your powers active, constantly reading Recton's thoughts. Find out his intentions, and stay in touch with Raven to inform her and let her decide the course of action. Fausto and Shiro, I want you as backup, especially you, Fausto; your manipulation of metal may be useful in case something goes wrong."
- "I..." Enid whispers, confused- "I don't understand. What do I have to do?"
- "You are a newly hired bodyguard, just like me. We'll keep our distance and be the first line of defense in case any of us is in danger." -he points to two young men in black suits and sunglasses, earpieces in their ears- "They are Utrecht and Wandereich, the best ones here, you can count on their help. Your uniform is in the room."
- "Bodyguard? Bathroom? But... wait–"
- “Raven, once you lure Recton into the bathroom, remember. We must not kill him, or it will all have been in vain."
- "I got it." -she stands up, seemingly bored- "Anything else, or can I go get ready?"
-"I think that will be all." -he smiles sweetly at his niece, who just nods and begins to walk towards the exit. Enid looks at Raven, then at Vitali, and again at Raven, confused.
-"Lure? What do you mean by lure? That..." -her eyes dilate understandably as she understands the situation, and she feels a cold sweat running down her spine- "Don't tell me that..."
- "Sinclair. Move." -Wednesday calls her from the door- "Let's go, we only have a few hours."
- "But..." -she looks at Vitali again- "I don't understand, what–?" a giggle interrupts the agent. Shiro, still savoring his gin glass, shakes his head, incredulous.
- "My God, Enid, how can you be so innocent? Isn't it clear?" -he looks at her and shrugs his shoulders, entertained. "Raven has to..." -lasciviously, he raises a hollow hand to his face and pretends to perform oral sex- "You know."
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- "What do you mean seducing him?!?"
Enid seems like a wild beast locked in a zoo cage. She paces around the room, muttering under her breath. Occasionally, she huffs, frustrated when she tries to speak, but the anger is such that she ends up babbling nonsensical things. The smoke from her cigarette, trapped in her mouth, follows her every step, leaving a subtle trail behind her.
The contrast with the serial killer is almost comical. As soon as they entered the room, she stripped off all her clothes, leaving only her black lace underwear, and sat in front of the vanity. She has styled her hair, which gracefully falls over her shoulders in a cascade of subtle black waves. With her mask on, she applies some lipstick of such a soft pink that it only serves to carefully highlight the tan of her skin. Says absolutely nothing, allowing Enid to rant as much as she wants while she puts on a white satin dress that leaves her shoulders bare.
- "Seduce him?! Why the hell would they send you to do something like that? It doesn't make sense! No. I refuse. No. Especially with that face of...of...of a son of a bitch he has! Damn disgusting old dick! If he lays a finger on you, I swear I'll... AGHH!" -frustrated, she covers her eyes with her hands, but quickly removes them to move the cigarette away from her lips after taking a long drag. She walks again, from left to right, behind Wednesday, muttering curses- "It's just not right! Why not send Psyche? Or Shiro?"
- "Psyche has more important things to deal with. And I doubt that a normie ultraconservative with tendencies to hate outcasts would be interested in the male gender." -through the reflection of the mirror, she looks at Enid, who has stopped to look at her, with her mouth half open in a gesture of surprise. She closes it, opens it again... and scoffs at her, rolling her eyes. Again, she keeps walking. Her uniform, a complete black suit with a white shirt, still rests on the sofa, forgotten in her tantrum.
- "Still! How can you be so innocent, Enid?" -she imitates Shiro with a mocking tone, and scoffs again- "Damn it, I just can't! I just can't see it!"
- "Get dressed."
- "But-"
- "Sinclair."
- "...ahg, Goddamit!" -she growls, takes off her shirt, balls it up in her hands, and throws it to the other end of the room. She does the same with the pants, and frustratedly starts putting on the new black suit pants, biting her tongue and muttering more curses as she adjusts the belt- "And with that stupid face he has, damn it. Damn God, the Virgin, and everything that's curse-worthy. Damn it. f*cking hell, damn it. Damn it." -Wednesday bites her lip to suppress a chuckle, still looking at the woman behind her through the mirror, while buttoning up her shirt. Her claws are out, and when she tries to button up the buttons, she can't. Frustrated, she runs a hand through her bangs, pushing her hair back- "f*ck. I just..." -she immediately falls silent when the young woman stands up and walks towards her. She can't help but notice that for once, she's almost completely dressed in black... while the assassin, except for her mask, appears completely dressed in white, with the soft glow of silk. It's scandalous, the way it clings to her body and the curve of her legs is revealed with every step, even though the dress is not at all short and grazes the floor, caressing her ankles. The click-clack of the heels puts the werewolf in a state of high alert; the cigarette has been left hanging in her mouth with a surprised gesture when the girl grabs the edge of the open shirt... and brings her fingers to the first button. With mellifluous elegance, she buttons the first button, and moves up to the second, grazing the stomach of the young woman for just a few seconds. Not enough to be certain, but not so subtle that she didn't feel it.
- "I sense jealousy in your voice." -she murmurs, as she moves to the third button and buttons it, reaching the young woman's belly button. She runs a finger over it, and the blonde has to struggle to keep her own knees straight, feeling the hairs on her neck stand up, goosebumps forming, with her eyes traveling from the tempting lips to the neckline, which was not puritanical, but not indecent either; it bordered between indecency and decorum- "Why are you jealous, Enid?"
When has her throat been so dry? She swallows, and it hurts when her Adam's apple moves up and down. She's not undressing her, she's dressing her... but it feels just as sinful, just as dirty- "I—"
- "Are you worried that my performance might be too convincing?" -she whispers, reaching the last button, the one next to her neck, and smiles satisfied with the accelerated pulse- "Are you worried that..." -she plays with the collar of the shirt- "As soon as I walk into that bathroom, he will push me against the wall, lift up my dress to expose my ass, and penetrate me?" -a punch in the stomach would have taken away less oxygen than those words. Enid, with eyes wide open, allows Wednesday to remove the cigarette from her mouth and take a long drag. When she finishes and removes it from her lips to simply throw the rest of it to the floor, some lipstick has been left forgotten on the filter; the pink on the orange drives her crazy, and Enid’s hands, which had hung lifelessly at both sides of her body, tremble as they rise shakily towards the bare arms of the young woman. When the brown eyes stab her through the mask, she lowers them again. She doesn't know when, but she has started to pant, a mixture of anger, jealousy, and the incipient excitement boiling in her stomach- "Tell me, are you worried?"
She opens her mouth. She closes it. Finally nods, feeling her cheeks reddening and sweat sliding down her neck. An affirmative 'hmmm' escapes from Addams' lips, filled with curiosity.
- "And why does that worry you, agent?" -agent. Alarm bells sound in Enid's head. Damn witch- "Are you worried that he’ll bury himself in my entrails? Are you envious? Do you wish you were him, right? Like you did with me yesterday... how you f*cked me." -she takes the tie and puts it around her neck and pulls from each extreme, forcing the taller girl to lower her head, closer to the Addams. At the dirty talk, Enid whimpers,trembling, unable to take her eyes off her- "My body still hurts from your... not so loving administrations. I have marks from your teeth on my buttocks and thighs." -Enid groans out loud when she sees Wednesday's hands pulling up her dress to see a flash of her black lace panties and can simply look, overwhelmed, with her heart in her throat. When she feels Wednesday's hand holding hers and directing it to the space between her thighs, she murmurs a curse under her breath and moans again when she feels the fabric under her fingertips, feeling it slightly wet, the heat irradiating from there- "If I concentrate enough I can still feel you inside me." -speaks without any kind of shame in a low, sultry tone that made Enid’s heart jump on her chest.
- "Damn it all." -whimpers, eliciting a cruel chuckle from the serial killer- "Damn it. Damn it. Bird..." -looks for her neck, trying to trace even just a single kiss over her delectable neck, but Wednesday hushed her, still holding the
- "You behaved so well...like a stallion." -she forces Enid to sit on the sofa, and delicately plants her knees on either side of her legs, hovering over her. She's satisfied; Enid hasn't even dared to move her fingers against her intimacy... which only excited her even more- "You did, didn't you?"
She nods again, and whimpers a bit more when Wednesday moves her hips against her and sighs with pleasure when one of the agent's long fingers rubs against her covered cl*tor*s- "Holy f*cking hell." -Enid murmurs pathetically- "Holy sh*t. f*ck…Raven..." -finally, with some initiative, she moves her hand towards one of the girl's buttocks, squeezing it over the dress. Wednesday laughs, satisfied, breathless, and continues with the undulating movement over the blonde, who only looks up as if God were presenting himself to her- "My goodness. Damn it."
- "Didn't you f*ck me well,mutt ?"
- "Yes. Yes. Yes, I did." -the praise leaves her breathless, and she can't help but squeeze her legs together, feeling her excitement completely bathing her intimacy- "Yes, yes, I f*cked you so well, God, how could I not, you were driving me crazy." -Wednesday laughs when Enid starts to slowly rub her semi-erect cl*tor*s, spreading the fluid over her panties. She throws her head back and holds her weight more firmly on her knees, holding the girl's shoulders while hissing between her teeth- "Come, come, love. God. Again, I'm going to make you explode again. You're so damn hot, bird." -she murmurs breathlessly, and the sofa starts to creak under them with the accelerated rhythm of Addams' hips- "My goodness, come on, these panties off." -all the time, her hand, pressed forcefully against the buttock, had been marking the rhythm for the girl, forcing her to move faster- "Panties off, come on, I'm going to wreck you apart." -when her mouth goes to find the brunette's chest, looking to bite the nipple that can be guessed under the fabric, Wednesday stops holding her shoulders to pull her hair forcefully, making her throw her head back- "f*ck!"
- “Look at me, dog.” -Enid obeys, completely still, whining under her breath when the hands that trapped her hair pulled harder; her nails clawed at the buttocks of the smaller girl, who stilled her hips- “Do you see? The things you do to me?” -when she didn't answer, pulled again, making Enid’s hips raise from the sofa- “Tell me.”
- “Yes, yes I…I feel it. f*ck.” -without shame, kept on rubbing her fingers over the Raven’s slit, almost drooling with how drenched she was- “Yes, I f*cking feel it.”
- “Only you can do this to me.” -reassures her, with annoyance in her voice that tried to muffle her own excitement- “Only you can touch me like this, only you can reach my entrails.” -got closer to her and bit her jawline, making Enid close her eyes and groan under her breath- “You are the only knife I will twist on my insides.”
- “Dear God.” -moans loudly, keeping up a faster pace and smiling wickedly when the smaller girl moaned against her skin. Looked for her hipbone, leaving the buttocks forgotten (much to her regret) to trap it with her hand and try to push her on the couch and get over her- “Only me.”
- “Yes.” -admits breathless, smiling like the cruelest of the vixens when Enid tried to get over her. Crossed her legs, not allowing her to do so- “Only you.”
- “Let me.” -groans and hooked her fingers around the edge of her panties, trying to push them down her legs- “C’mon…”
- “We have stuff to do…”
- “I’m not going to let you flirt with that idiot without f*cking you first.” -is surprised when a heel rested against her shoulder. Traced a long lick to the side of her calf, and the flash of the long tongue, the saliva against her skin made the Raven whimper again. Enid doesn’t know if she should rise the dress to her hips to bury her head between her legs…or if she should push it down until her breast popped from the tight silky dress. With a growl, pushed down the dress until the cleavage was pushed down to Wednesday’s stomach. No bra. f*cking fantastic. Can hear her own growl when she launches forward to the small tit*, trapping her left nipple between her lips, sucking it harshly. Wednesday finally opens her legs and she slides between them like exquisite oil. The hands on her nape pressed her down to her skin and she wanted to drown against the small bundle of nerves, toying with it, nibbling at it.
- “Enid…” -a growl in response to her needy moan- “Oh, Enid…” -a harsh scratch to the space between her shoulder blades when Enid licked it languidly, flicking her tongue around it in circles, just the way she liked it- “Mmmh…such a good mutt.” -looks down to the blonde, who has her eyes half lidded in ecstasy, barely caressing her with the tip of her tongue. When Enid growls and tried to engulf almost the whole breast inside her mouth, nailing her fangs on the tender skin, Wednesday’s hand, the one that wasn’t tracing furious lines over her skin, raised to cover her mouth and hide the overwhelmed, trembling scream at the dirty act- “Enid.” -her own name, muffled, made the werewolf suck even harder. Compassionate, kept on rubbing the Raven’s cl*t over the fabric; a flash of a fluid on her fingers. With an audible pop, moved away from the Raven’s tit, still panting.
- “Not even a finger.” -mutters and grabs harshly at her chin, forcing the blissed serial killer to look at her, who felt dizzy and disoriented. Barely minutes ago she had all control and now…- “Don’t let him even lay a single finger on you.”
- “No…” -tries to look away, embarrassed, but Enid doubled down and grabbed harshly; her big, strong hand holding her down. The mistreatment made her whine; knees trembling at both sides of Enid’s hip- “Oh, Satan…”
- “Not a single kiss.” -mumbles, transfixed. Moves the panties to the side and cupped gently her intimacy, letting her fingers soaked against the fluttering c*nt- “Not even a wink, nothing.”
- “Then how should I get him in the bathroom then?” -bit her bottom lip when two of Enid’s fingers began a route; two of her fingertips would rub her cl*t, caress her inner lips till her entrance, stood there, not even daring to get inside of her…and would come back to the pulsating bundle of nerves, making her whine and cover her mouth again- “Enid!”
- “How would you do it then, bird? Tell me.” -got on her knees between the girl’s legs and pressed her fingertips harshly against her cl*t, tracing a couple of lazy circles- “Are you going to show him your panties? Like you did with me? You dirty girl.” -Wednesday, overwhelmed, still muffling her short, loud moans, made her other hand close around the werewolf’s forearms- “That’s what you would do?”
- “I could…offer him to-” -bit the palm of her hand when Enid suddenly stopped, like not wanting to interrupt her- “To…”
- “To what.”
- “P-perform…oral se-” -the scream rippled through her system, back arched tense as a bow when Enid penetrated her, not even allowing her to catch her breath. Oh yes, she could still feel her inside- “ENID!”
- “To suck him off. That’s what you would offer?” -another shudder, her voice low and husky with the excitement, the jealousy.When her fingers sink into her up to the knuckles and Enid feels the trembling walls of her puss* squeeze around them, she groans again, ecstatic. The way the brunette bites her lower lip is worthy of being photographed.
- “Y-yes…I would-” -doesn’t know where she had started to move her hips, burying the werewolf’s fingers inside of her each time she plunged them inside- “Ohhhhh f*ck!”
- “I mean, with that pretty mouth, I wouldn’t reject it.” -whispers, talking accelerated and messy. Can’t avoid to let go of her hipbone to trace the bottom lip with her thumb, grinning when Wednesday licked at it with a morbid sensuality, purely aiming to provoke her even more- “I would f*ck that mouth too.” -admits, almost out of air, when the smaller girl trapped the tip of her thumb between her perfect white teeth.
- “Do it then. D-do it…” -Enid stood still for a couple of seconds, thinking about it. Wednesday’s entrance screamed and ached at the loss of the long fingers, but couldn’t avoid to chuckle when Enid got up and began to clumsily fumble with her belt. Still with her knees trembling, also got up and pushed Enid into the couch again, leaving her sitting down. She is panting as she got on her knees between the open legs and hurriedly pulled down the black suit pants, along her white panties down her knees. Locking her hands around the werewolf’s thighs, traced a long lick along her leg, up to the inner part of her thighs. Enid's side smile made her frown, embarrassed, incredibly aroused.
- “This suits you. Getting on your knees, I mean.” -the scent of her intimacy hit Wednesday so hard she had to suppress a surprised moan, holding onto the muscular legs, her gaze lost in the sight of the blonde pubic hair shining, the soft pink of her drenched lips- “Tongue out.”
- “Enid…” -whines again when a hand gently holds her bangs; the other buried in the hair of her sweaty nape- “f*ck, agent…” -tried to search for another kiss on her inner thigh, but the harsh pulling of her hair made her remain still, the harsh treatment leaving her speechless; a ragged doll on her hands.
- “Tongue out.” -the girl with the mask obeyed, producing a pleasurable chill on the werewolf that traveled from the top of her head to her lower stomach. Opened even more her legs so the mask wouldn’t crash against her thighs. When Wednesday licked all along her slit in a snail like pace she throwed her head back and moaned into the open room- “f*ck yeah…” -Wednesday moaned under her and the blonde had to fix her eyes on her again with the sound, smiling wickedly with the embarrassed frown of the girl- “You got me so pent up I’m gonna cum in a minute, babygirl.” -still locking Wednesday’s head with her hands, she began to pick up a hurried pace with her hips, drenching the girl’s mouth with her arousal. Can’t avoid to laugh when she saw the Raven’s hand getting under her dress- “There we go, touch yourself.” -whispers dirtily, f*cking the smaller girl’s mouth. How was she this excited with just a couple of gestures? Could never understand it. The half-lidded chocolate eyes piercing her own. The sudden intrusive thought of Recton having this delectable creature on her knees in front of her sparked her anger and selfishness, muttering out of breath- “f*ckkk…that’s it, baby.” -groans, not even allowing the Raven to breathe; each time her tongue and teeth would graze at her cl*t she would only mutter nonsense- “When you offer him to suck him off, think of this.” -possessiveness washed over her and her hands gripped tightly the dark hair; Wednesday would only lick lazily at her cl*t from time to time, as she could barely move, being mistreated without mercy- “Think of this, baby…” -the sofa screeched behind them and her eyes focused on the fast pace of Wednesday’s hand under the dress, smiling with voyeuristic pleasure- “God…dear God.” -when Wednesday tried to suck her cl*t, Enid chastised her and her hips froze, allowing her to take control- “Good girl, suck it good.”
- “Mmh!” -the muffled moan provoked vibrations against her c*nt, making Enid froze on her seat…to suddenly get up and force Wednesday’s head still. Being sitting down was one thing…but f*cking her face standing up was another thing. She can only open her mouth and throw her head to the ceiling, a silent scream
-"That bastard would wish to have you like this, my little bird." -Wednesday, with her eyes wide open, felt the blonde's claws dig into her scalp, and the smile of the blonde revealing her fangs. Yes, she was a little bird that had fallen into the jaws of a beast, being used as the beast pleased. What a blessing; her own cl*t, swollen and covered in her fluids, after being rubbed with inhuman speed was almost screaming, on the verge of reaching the nirvana she had heard so much about. And she knows Enid is close too: she can only manage to murmur nonsense and move her hips in irregular intervals, transitioning from an accelerated snap of her hips to a slow, heavy movement, as if focusing on dragging Wednesday's tongue wherever she wanted it. She trembles on the floor, feeling weak, used, and beyond excited. She moans loudly when Enid releases the hair from the back of her neck (not her bangs; those are still cruelly held) to lift up her white uniform shirt a bit, allowing her to see a flash of her trembling and toned stomach.
Enid, who had been constantly panting, looking at Addams as if she were the eighth wonder of the modern world, began to tremble, and had to plant her hand again on the young woman's head, holding part of her weight on it. Her hips start to move frantically, and her eyes narrow, mouth open in a silent moan- "I'm--I'm going to come–!" -Wednesday would be able to smile if she didn't have her whole tongue flat pressed against the agent's cl*t, feeling the pulsations nearing org*sm; her own was as close as Enid’s; her wrists aching with the hurried pace of her masturbation.- "f*ck, Raven!! Ah cannae help it! Ah'm comin! Co-mmmh f*ck!!” -the last snap of her hips as Wednesday traced a lustful circle around her cl*t almost broke down the Addams’ neck as she moaned with a fresh org*sm, proud of having the sweet, kind agent behaving like a perverted beast. Barely able to move, Enid simply fell backwards with her legs feeling like jelly after letting go of Wednesday’s head. Collapses into the sofa, mumbling more incoherences as she passes a hand along her sweaty bangs, still audibly breathing. Cover her eyes with her forearm, leaning her head backwards- “Jesus Christ…Raven you–” -when she felt the lips of the serial killer back to the drenched inner lips, making out sinfully with her intimacy, she had to nails her claws into the couch, unbelieving- “Raven!” -as she looks down again, the mentioned one grins wickedly, pulling out her tongue again to trace her slit from the entrance to the sensitive organ. Enid pulled her hips back, overwhelmed- “Raven…”
- “You almost broke my neck down there.” -mumbles in a matter of fact tone, now kissing her plane stomach- “f*cking mongrel.” -punctuated with a bite on her hip-bone, making Enid jerk on her seat. Without further ado, the Addams elegantly got up from the floor, and Enid saw the flash of her wet fingers as she pulled them out of her panties; the hem of the dress returned to her ankles, not allowing her to keep grazing at the soft, tender thighs crossed with the marks of her claws. Got her fingers close to the girl’s mouth and pressed them against her bottom lip; her eyes sharp as razors when Enid groaned with excitement and embarrassment in equal parts- “Lick it. Clean my fingers. Taste it.” -a dark chuckle when Enid doesn’t even try to lick them; she practically engulfed them, putting them inside of her mouth with a weakened whine- “Open wider.” -Enid tries to obey. In vengeance, Wednesday grabbed her by her bangs with sick enjoyment- “Wider. You almost tear my scalp apart. Do not dare to cry.” -pulls them out to plunge them inside until they almost grazed the back of Enid’s throat, who almost had her eyes turned blank with the act- “You f*cked my mouth, then I am going to f*ck your throat. You f*cking dirty dog, huh?” -Enid let out a drowned moan with her lips closed around the slender fingers when Wednesday’s pulled harsher at her hair, forcing her to open her eyes as she effectively f*cked her throat- “What is that? You enjoyed having me on your knees, right?”
Despite speaking with absolutely no decorum, her tone carries a feigned compassion, the kind you would use with a small child who has scraped their knee - "Did you enjoy having your face f*cked? Then why do you complain now that I'm doing the same?" - Enid gasps, feeling the lack of air and a slight threat of gagging; the taste of Wednesday against her tongue made her dig her nails even deeper into the sofa and clench her legs against the new temptation, the new need- "Be thankful to your God that I've come too...if I hadn't, I'd be capable of tearing you apart right now" - her grin is massive as Enid whimpers with her eyes narrowed and feels the werewolf's saliva soak her fingers; the warmth of her tongue, the sharpness of her fangs - "At least I'll be capable of locking Jones in the loo...yes, I think I'll be capable of seducing him as long as I remember this, don't I? My good, smart agent...drowning like a cheap whor*." - ironic that she said this, for only a few minutes ago her situation wouldn't have been much different from that of a lady of the night, but how the tables have turned...she withdraws her fingers from her mouth, and Enid takes a deep breath, her eyes filled with tears. Still holding her bangs, Wednesday, with wet fingers, gives her a couple of gentle slaps on the scarred cheek, to which Enid only whimpers in response - "Look at me." - when the blonde looks at her, dizzy and with her legs trembling again, Addams smiles at her with feigned sweetness - "Good girl..." - she stops grabbing her hair to pet her affectionately, leaving the agent biting her lip, enjoying the contrast of mistreatment and adoration - "Open your mouth." - when she obeys and sees the young woman lean towards her, she almost feels her soul escaping her body from embarrassment. She allows the girl to spit in her mouth, and as she feels the killer's saliva slide down her tongue into her throat, she whimpers like a puppy feeling more strokes in her hair - "Good pup. That's it." -the kiss is conquering and sinful, as she practically invades Enid’s mouth with her tongue, battling against her own, tearing her apart. Kisses sweetly her bottom lip, making Enid sigh and finally relax her claws. Wednesday smiled at her when she got away, and kissed her again on her forehead- “Now…get dressed.”
- “f*ck…yeah I–”
- “Go to the bathroom and take a quick shower. I do not want you in the casino reeking of sexual intercourse.” -narrows her eyes a little bit as Enid clumsily got up. Her face crossed by an entertained grin- “Only I should have the benefit to enjoy such scent…” -buries her hand in the golden locks of Enid’s intimacy, enjoying the slight moisture, the warmth. Enid hissed between her teeth as Wednesday, with her free hand, quickly unbuttoned her shirt again- “Is it clear, agent?”
- “Crystal clear.” -admits out of breath with the tender caresses at her mons pubis- “As soon as we do this sh*t…”
- “Yeah?” -smiles with the playful competitive spirit on the blue eyes.
- “We get back here…” -her hands travel down to the Addams’ buttocks and pressed her fingers against them, cupping them between her large hands- “And we go again.”
- “Again?” -throws her head back, allowing the blonde to kiss her jawline, the pulse of her neck- “You better be a good bodyguard then…will you watch my back?”
- “Don’t think I will be able to tear my eyes away from it…” -whispered dirtily, fondling her asscheeks- “Jeez, you’re so f*cking hot. You sure we don’t have time to–?” -Wednesday’s laughter interrupted her, but far from being annoyed she just smiled at her- “I’m not joking…one more time. Pretty please.” -as Wednesday began to walk away from her, continuously chuckling, Enid would follow her around- “Pretty pretty please…just one more time…” -trapped her with her arms wrapped around her stomach, kissing her nape- “Once more…”
- “Go to the shower, you dirty dog.” -the contrast of Enid, only dressed from waist up, against her covered buttocks made her sigh, pleased, especially enjoying how Enid’s lips would linger against the curve of her neck- “You ain’t gonna stop, aren’t you?”
- “Mmhh…if you get into the shower with me, I might think about it.”
- “...” -turned her head to look at the cheeky grin of the blonde- “Ten minute shower.”
- “Twenty.”
- “Fifteen. And no touching below the waistline.”
- “Ten, and I can touch wherever I want.”
- “Five.”
- “Ten.”
- “Seven and it’s my last offer.”
In the end, Enid, who usually lost every bet that crossed her path, finally won. The seven were transformed into twenty. But who could blame them?
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------
- “What do you think?” -Pugsley whispered to his aunt, keeping a close distance from the Hyde- “Lurch? Do you think it’s convincing?” -the butler simply rolled his eyes in response, annoyed- “Hey do not roll your eyes at me!”
- “Pugsley you’re being too paranoid. It’s perfectly fine. I could control him with my eyes closed.” -mumbles, fixing her blonde wig- “And why the hell do I have to wear a blonde wig? We talked about this, I don’t look good in blonde.”
- “I had to dye my hair red and Lurch has a buzzcut. Are you seriously complaining?” -Pugsley observed from the distance how Tyler passed by a girl and winked at her, making her giggle and walk hurriedly while he shrugged his shoulders- “You’re getting too much into character.”
- “He is an idiot, right? I have to commit or it won’t be convincing.” -mutters in a matter of fact tone, completely bored- “I think that his apartment…what do we do? Do we get him there or what?”
- “I don’t know, we should–” -Lurch stopped walking all of the sudden- “Lurch? Lurch, what's wrong?”
The tall butler pointed out a figure on the door of Tyler’s apartment, and old man going bald with a scruffy, gray-speckled beard. The man rushes towards Tyler... and the slap he delivers is so forceful that everyone freezes in place, watching the scene. There are screams and curses, and they all hide behind an alleyway.
- "sh*t! Who's that?!"
- "Shut up, Pugsley! I can't hear!" -Hydrangea makes the young man touch his cheek, feigning astonishment- "Bloody hell."
- "What?"
- "It's his father."
- "HIS FATHER?!" -Lurch pushes Pugsley against the wall when the young man tries to peek out for a better view of the scene- "Oh no, no. Why do things always go so wrong for us! Wednesday! We need to call Wedn-" -Lurch covers his mouth, and the screams sound muffled behind the enormous hand.
- "Thank you, Lurch." -the Italian woman closes her eyes, observing everything through Hyde's eyes, connected with the plant rooted in her brain- "Okay, he's yelling at him about why the hell he went to Italy. What should I say? And don't shout, Pugsley."
- "Tell him he went to look for my sister...the bitch, or something like that, that he didn't find her. Don't sound aggressive, act like he's a little kid." -here's silence, with Hydrangea occasionally nodding, and Hyde mimicking her movements perfectly, like his little puppet- "What's he saying?"
- "Something about being taken off the Raven case or something, he's very disappointed, calling him trash, something about his mother..." -she sighs- "It's already hard enough for me to control his Hyde side, which is itching to bash his skull against the wall. Something about a trip."
-"A trip? What–" - with horror, young Addams watches as Donovan Galpin guides his son to an old Pontiac - "Oh no, don't tell me." -he looks around the alley- "We need a car! Lurch!" - the butler runs under Pugsley's orders to the parking lot behind the alley. With a quick glance around to ensure there were no witnesses, he professionally extracts a roll of duct tape; the front windshield is covered in split seconds, and with a precise punch, it breaks without making the slightest noise, without triggering the alarm- "Quick!" -with a grunt, Lurch opens the door, sits in the driver's seat, and searches under the seat for the tangle of wires leading to the ignition switch. He connects two wires, blue with brown in a sort of braid to make contact, adds the black one, and waits- "Now! Come on, Lurch!" -he adds the stripped red wire to the equation. The engine purrs like an old cat, but dies again - "Come on, come on!" -he encourages, hitting the car hood- “Please!"
- "They're leaving. Pugsley–!"
- "Lurch!" -another failed attempt- "Lurch! f*ck-!" -with the third attempt, the smell of static electricity fills the air, just a light spark. The car purrs again, and when it seems like it's going to die, it finally starts with a roar that spits out bluish flames from its exhaust pipe. Pugsley lunges at Lurch, ending up on his lap, and with a couple of quick but clumsy movements like a turtle on its back, he manages to reach the back seat and open the left door for Hydrangea to jump in- "Where are they?!"
-"Shut up, Pugsley!" - she closes her eyes as Lurch backs up, escaping from the parking lot with the stolen vehicle - "Main street, taking Interstate 3! They're going to the outskirts!"
- “Where the hell are they going?!”
- "The more you shout, the less I'll know! Focus on following them, damn it!" -she manages to wipe some blood from her nose and tilts her head back, confused- "Damn it, f*cking... something about a niece–something... Lurch FASTER OR WE'LL LOSE THEM!" -with a heavy grunt, Lurch floors it, and the Porsche 944 shoots down the main street- "Something about—a meeting—meeting. Joseph." -she wipes the blood from her nose again, and Pugsley manages to plug it with a piece of Kleenex- "Joseph, meeting, niece... Texas."
- "TEXAS?!"
- "Texas... I'm getting dizzy, Lurch we're far away..." -the beast makes a disgruntled noise, dodging cars and furious drivers honking their horns- "Texas... purchase–" -the Kleenex paper is already soaked in blood- "Something... purchase—fa*ggot."
- "fa*ggot?"
- "fa*g..." -she closes her eyes - "Dad, I'm sorry..." -Pugsley gets scared not hearing Hydrangea's voice; speaking with a few tones deeper, almost like Tyler's voice- "I won't leave again... like this—" -Lurch made a violent turn that caused Pugsley to crash his face against the window, miraculously reaching the third interstate- "The case..." -Hydrangea's eyes roll back- "I didn't mean to lose the case, Dad, I'm sorry..." -she murmurs, becoming pale- "She... I didn't find her..."
- "Aunt Hydrangea! Stay here! Listen to me! Aunt Hydra!!" -he thinks about shaking her shoulders, but in this state he's not sure if it'll be a good idea- "Aunt Hydra!"
- "She got away..." -Lurch made a sharp turn. They were now only two cars away from Galpin's car. Hydrangea was then taken out of her stupor, as if she had been expelled from the realm of dreams. With a high-pitched cry, she sits back up and speaks in Tyler's voice - "THAT DAMNED BITCH!"
- "AUNT?!" -the Italian flower expert blinks a couple of times, unsure. She rubs her face, spreading some blood onto her lips and cheeks- "Aunt?! What happened?! What?"
- "SILENCE!" -she shouts at Pugsley, anguished, still with Hyde's voice - "She won't escape again, Dad." -she turns her face towards the window, and Pugsley gets scared when he realizes that the young man, from the Pontiac, was imitating her movement perfectly- "I promise."
The woman falls silent, with her eyes fixed on some point on the road. With a pounding heart, Pugsley looks towards the Galpins' car. Donovan seems to have been satisfied with his son's answers and with his childish retreat into his own thoughts. He was fine... but what had happened? It was as if there had been interference in a phone call. His aunt's calmness scares him; was it possible to have psychic failures? Was a bad connection possible?
- 'But... how? There's no one who controls plants like her... he was fine throughout the trip, at the airport he was fine...he was getting into the car and...' - he rubs his face, confused, with the palms of his hands - 'Texas. fa*ggot. Purchase... Joseph... who's Joseph?' - his eyes narrow as he tries to control the thread of his thoughts - 'Purchase...purchase what? What–?'
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- “-should I do?”
The blonde werewolf asks, looking at herself in the elevator mirror. She analyzes herself for a moment. The holster straps allow for two guns just under her armpits, easily accessible. She feels her figure tense and stylized. She adjusts her black tie and suit jacket, as well as carefully examining her face.
Wednesday, with her back against the elevator wall, makes a gesture resembling a smile. She approaches, with Thing comfortably perched on her shoulder, and they both adjust the blonde's jacket collar- "Enid, you just have to listen to Vitali. I'll take care of everything. Everything will be fine. Stop overthinking it."
- "It's the first time that–one thing is being an agent...but pretending to be a bodyguard..." -laughs, looking at her hands playing with the sunglass temples, with the earpiece already in place on her left ear- "It's another different league. Plus, under Vitali's orders, as if I wouldn't feel the pressure." -Thing tapped Wednesday’s shoulder and gave her a thumbs up- "Thank you, Thing." -she chuckles, delighted with the severed hand- "I will do my best.
- "You will do your best." -the assassin comments after briefly caressing her neck; she was deeply embarrassed to show great affection to the blonde in front of a member of her family- "You won't even need to do anything, everything will be over soon." -she smiles, just a little, and helps Enid put on her sunglasses- "Ready?"
- "What about my good luck kiss?"
- "..." -Raven glances sideways at Thing on her shoulder, who taps her a couple of times, teasing her-"You're both unbearable." -she gives her a kiss so brief that Enid barely has time to feel it; the Addams retreats, enduring Thing's teasing, and opts to fix her hair in front of the mirror, ignoring the blonde's silly grin- "Come on, dog, wipe that face off."
- "It's my normal face."
- "Right, sure." -she opens her small black bag, and Thing jumps inside it easily.
The elevator doors open, and there are Fausto and Shiro waiting for them. Fausto wears a black leather jacket with metallic shoulder pads made up of a series of chains, as well as tight black leather pants with a silver chain belt and a bronze mask shaped like a hyper-realistic skull. Shiro has opted for a white suit covered in multicolored stains all over and smiles at both of them mischievously, his forehead covered with a Venetian mask patterned similarly to his attire. The lobby is packed with people waiting to queue at the door, including several cameramen and reporters looking to snap a photo of the guests.
- "Ladiiies! How's everything? All good?" -the multicolored chimera kisses both girls on their cheeks- “This is all going to explode, it's insane!" -approaches confidentially to whisper to them- "You better not screw it up...
- "Why would we screw it up?"
- "Because there's a lot of press and–"
- "Enid?" -underneath her sunglasses, the blonde's eyes widen upon hearing Eve's voice behind her. With a nervous grimace, leaving an uncomfortable smile on her face, she scratches the back of her neck- "Oh... Eve - what–?"
- "Shiro! You didn't tell me you were having a party! I thought you'd give me a press pass!"
- "Oh.. Eve–I..." -the albino searches for an excuse- "Uh... I thought since you and Enid ended things badly it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to come–"
- "We didn't end things badly... right, Enid?"
- "Oh, no no! Not at all! I... I haven’t!" -she comments aloud, while Eve greets Fausto with a couple of kisses on each cheek- "We're... all good between us and–"
- "Oh, hi! You must be a relative of Fausto and Shiro!"
- '...oh sh*t.' -her throat felt dry at the surprise; she had momentarily forgotten that Raven was there. The shortest woman in the group elegantly steps forward and extends her hand to the journalist- “Uhhhh... Eve, this is–"
- "Jenna." She shows a sad*stic grin when Eve shakes her hand with slight perplexity- "Jenna Ortega. Nice to meet you. Enid has mentioned you to me on a couple of occasions..." -glances sideways at Enid, who swallows nervously, feeling a slight warmth in her cheeks. Eve blinks a couple of times, confused, but responds to the polite greeting with a gentle squeeze and a nod of her head.
- "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Ortega. Eve Arbes." -she has a slightly uncomfortable smile, and turns her face towards Shiro- "May I come in then? Just a couple of photos, I promise. You all look so handsome!" -claps excitedly, and the camera around her neck jumps with her- "Please, please please. Just a couple!" -Shiro looks at Fausto for a few seconds. The sculptor's son shrugs. He then looks at his cousin, who glares at him. A 'I don’t know' and a clear ‘no’. But in the end, he does what he always does: what he damn pleases.
- "Sure thing, girl! But just a couple of photos, tonight's serious!" -thankfully, he doesn’t have his stepsister's powers, because if he did, all he could see would be images in Wednesday's mind torturing him in 40 different ways. Eve walks gracefully beside Enid, excited.
- "You look very pretty, Enid! The suit suits you."
- "Oh, thank you..." -she scratches the back of her neck again tenderly- "You look pretty too–" -Raven, or rather Jenna, wraps her arm around the agent.
- "I chose the suit for her, she's doing us a big favor acting as a bodyguard tonight...of course, her physical abilities are exceptional." -she openly squeezes the young woman's bicep in front of a stunned Eve.
- "Uh..." -Eve murmurs, uncomfortable- "Yes, of course." -Enid feels an incipient urge to laugh, unsure if it's discomfort or surprise at the sudden, unprofessional contact from the serial killer. Seeing her with a hint of jealousy was certainly amusing- "What do you do, Jenna?"
- "I write in my spare time and help out at my aunt's company. I met Miss Sinclair a few months ago on a trip to New York, and I couldn't help but hire her...services.
- "Oh, I didn't know Enid had left her job at the FBI to work for you; you must pay quite a sum of money in case Enid wanted to leave such an honorable department like the Bureau."
- "What can I say?" -she doesn't bother to look at Enid, her eyes fixed ahead- "There are offers that nobody can refuse." -Enid looks at both of them as if she were watching a tennis match. Jenna/Raven releases her arm once they both enter the casino, and smoothly turns her face towards the two girls- "If you'll excuse me, I have important things to attend to. It's been...interesting to meet you, Miss Arbes." -her smirk when she looks at Enid prompts the blonde to blush in embarrassment- "Until soon, Miss Sinclair. I recommend you look for Mr. Krivonischenko; we wouldn't want your workday to end badly." -as she walks away, the blonde can't help but scan her, from the way her hair moves with each step, to the curves of her legs encased under the silk dress. She briefly bites her tongue, calming her internal fire, and smiles at Eve, who looks somewhat serious.
- "Eve... I... about the other day. I'm sorr-"
- "She's pretty." -she murmurs- "Pretty, but not one of those people who use it narcissistically. She just knows she's pretty and takes advantage of it." -Eve shakes her head- "No wonder you couldn't get her out of your head. I even feel a bit stupid."
- "What?!" -the comment was like a kick to her guilt- "No! Eve, I...it was my fault. I shouldn't...I shouldn't have-" groaned uncomfortably, and reached for Eve’s arm- "I'm sorry. Really. She and I... it's complicated. I'm sorry, really, I'm sure Shiro knows people who-"
- "Who? Who will fill my bed at night?" -she lets out a sarcastic and slightly pretentious laugh- "I already have people for that, Enid. I snap my fingers and I have five crawling on my arm to take me out to dinner." -shakes her head and sighs, preparing her camera- "There are more important things than that. Definitely. My son, for example. My work." -she lovingly cleans the lens, with a thoughtful smile- "There are more things than just feeling lonely, Enid." -when she goes to move away from the blonde, she takes her by the wrist; it's not desperate, it lacks strength. It’s pleading. Eve, feeling a chill down her spine, turns to her- "Enid?"
- "I'm sorry. I know it wasn't fair. I know it wasn't even fair to leave like that yesterday, or to leave San Francisco with Yoko. I know I should have looked for you." -her voice trembles and she's unable to look her in the eyes, fixing her gaze on the photographer's wrist. Eve listens to her, unmoving, barely blinking- "Yesterday I saw Dad. He's sick. Allen has become a...a damn dealer, and Cedrick's girlfriend is pregnant." -spits out, unabashedly, all the truth. Her teary tone and the sore throat trying to resist the urge to cry- "Everything is going to hell. I wanted to stay with you. I liked you, Eve. I liked you a lot. Even if my mother told me it was wrong, that I was wrong for loving you, when I left the gas station and-" -the blonde laughed, shaking her head- "And saw you, you...you made my life easier. Even if it was just for a while. I really wished I could have a life with you. But-" she lets go of the wrist as if it were enveloped in static electricity- "But..." -can't help but look behind Eve. Raven, or Jenna, is chatting with Psyche by a roulette wheel, and both of them, with apparent disinterest, watch the white ball spin maliciously. The blonde whispers something to Addams, who nods with a mischievous smile and places a series of chips on a specific number. There's an exclamation of surprise, and a man walks away, annoyed, from the table, without a single chip. The Raven grabs her new loot, and when Psyche nudges her playfully, she smiles, just a bit. When she notices the dimples on her cheeks, Enid's heart goes wild inside her chest; even more so when the killer realizes, lifts her gaze... and drops her grin: machiavellian, cruel, but with so much hidden sweetness. Eve looks at her, curious, when Enid responds- "But I love her. I really do. If you knew everything..." -she shakes her head again, denying more memories. "I'm sorry—"
- "For God's sake, Enid." Eve playfully laughs. "You're as red as a cherry."
- "What?" -she touches her cheeks, feeling them burning red- "Damn it."
- "I know you're sorry, silly. I would have liked to be with you too. I think we would have been the queens of Castro...and that Shiro would have been green with envy." -both share a knowing laugh, and Eve approaches to hug her, resting her ear against the blonde's chest, who hesitates a bit before wrapping her arms around her- "But it's okay. Everything's okay. At least I've seen you again."
- "Seeing you has been one of the best things that's happened to me in months..." -the agent tilts her head towards the girl and rests her chin on the brunette's head- "I swear."
- "Are you going to leave?"
- "Tomorrow I'm going back to New York with Jenna."
- "Tomorrow?" -she backs away a bit to look at her, surprised- "And your father, Enid? Your brothers?"
- "There's... there's something I have to do there. I'll be back soon, and I'll take them to a better place than that damn shack." -Eve places her hand on her cheek, cupping it with gentle care, and Enid leans into the touch- "Don't miss me too much."
- "As if you wished." -sticks her tongue out, teasingly, and murmurs-"I think your girlfriend is mad."
- "My no-" -her eyes widen. Before turning around, she knows Addams is already behind her- "Hey... babe."
- "Sinclair." -she calls her name, entitled and bratty- "What are you doing?"
- "I... just having a little chat, nothing more-" -Wednesday grabs her by the tie and tilts her head towards her.
- "Vitali is waiting for you, and you're bothering Miss Arbes, who is also trying to do her job." -Psyche approached both of them, with a mysterious smile- "Very unprofessional on your par-
- "Oh come on, Jenna." -Psyche, dressed in a long royal blue dress and a glittering mask of the same color- "Cut yourself some slack with your jealousy."
- "I'm not jeal-" -Psyche moves towards Eve and elegantly tilts her head towards her, ignoring her cousin.
- "Miss Arder. Shiro always speaks highly of you. Psyche Stylan." -she offers her hand, and Eve, with slight surprise, offers hers, allowing her to kiss the back of her hand. Eve covers her mouth with her other hand to hide a giggle
- "Don't act like you don't already know me, idiot." -Eve lightly taps her shoulder...and it was at that moment when Enid raised an eyebrow and dropped a knowing smile as she watched them talk. Another tug on her tie brought her back to reality.
- "I'm talking to you, dumb dog." Wednesday speaks, still slightly annoyed- "What was that flirting?"
- "I wasn't flirting with her, jealous girl." -she laughs when she can see that Raven is probably furrowing her brow beneath the mask- "I promise, we were just talking about a couple of things."
- "Go find Vitali."
- "On my way." -she makes sure nobody is watching her, and leans into her ear- "You look beautiful, babycakes."
- "Call me that again and you're dead." -she turns back to the roulette. Enid smiles, observing her bare back...until she notices with horror a few quite distinguishable marks along her spine. Scratches. Werewolf scratches. Panicked, she tries to approach Wednesday and warn her, but the Soviet man suddenly grabs her by the jacket.
- "Volk!"
- "Oh, f*ck! Sir, I'm sorry!"
- "Come on, follow me." -he waves with a sweet smile at Psyche and Eve...but the gesture disappears as soon as they pass by them. Enid barely has time to bid farewell to Eve, following the communist through the casino- "That son of a bitch will show up in a few minutes. How are you feeling?" -they end up next to Utrecht and Wandereich, the other two bodyguards, next to a glass door on the side of the casino- "Nervous?"
- "Very." -the young woman admits, feeling free to talk about anything with the man, who reminds her of her father in his better days- "I don't know what—-" Vitali offers her a flask- "Oh, no, sir, don't worry—"
- "We're working together. Call me Vitali." -he shakes it, and the alcohol tinkles inside the metal. "Come on. Have a sip." -he smiles when Enid, after hesitating only a few seconds, takes it and takes a long, long sip, then grimaces slightly.
- “Это хорошо?”
- "Uh?"
- "I mean, is it good?"
- "Yes... I prefer whiskey, but yes." -Vitali, with fatherly affection, helps her adjust her tie.
- "My niece got possessive with you."
- "Uh..." -she notices how she is blushing again, but Vitali just winks at her, complicit.
- "Don't be embarrassed. The Frumps are like that. They have that effect. Well, just like we, the A—" -he shakes his head- "Well, my family isn't exactly normal either."
- "If I told you about mine...I think you guys are normal compared to them." - Enid chuckles, but it’s a drowned out, tired one- "Is it true that you're a soldier?"
- "Vietnam, Algeria, Afghanistan, Cambodia..." -he finishes adjusting the werewolf woman's tie- "I'd finish sooner if I start naming the places where I haven't been kiddo."
- "And..." -she can't help but scratch her neck nervously- "When you killed..."
- "Are you worried about killing someone today?"
- "I'm worried about not knowing what this mission will bring us. I'm worried about your niece, I'm worried about your family. I'm worried about being surrounded by...civilians."
- "If you're afraid, then you're ready." -he places his large, rough hand on her shoulder- "War is never good, Enid, but you have to know why you're not heading towards it. Defending your country, your possessions, your own life and those of your loved ones...that's essential." -he shakes his head- "Do you think I ever fought for something like that? I thought I did, but all I was doing was being just another number, something disposable in the schemes of powerful people who only wanted to get oil, who wanted to defend insipid and empty policies, or just out of selfishness of old capitalist pigs, or out of selfishness of comrades who long ago forgot their values and wanted to satisfy their megalomaniac nature. Stalin, Khrushchev, Gorbachev...when Chernobyl exploded and they sent me there as a liquidator, nobody remembered me or us. Something avoidable becomes inevitable when we don't measure the consequences of actions and our hubris blinds us."
- "Hubris?"
- "That's what the ancient Greeks called pride."
- "Were you in Chernobyl?" -she murmurs, surprised- "Raven never told me..."
- "Did you expect her to tell you?" he chuckles- "She's as protective of us as she is of you."
- "And why—" -she hesitates a bit, but continues her question- "Why are you telling me now then?"
- "Because we're comrades." -he extends his hand- "And I know that your reason for embarking on such madness is more important than anything else. Why are you here, Enid?"
‘Why am I here?’
Her voice doesn't falter when she answers, because she's known it since forever. Since she joined the FBI. Since Raven proposed the deal to her, she never doubted. Even sending all her work to hell. Her friendship with Yoko. It all started with...
‘Lauren’
The handshake is so firm and sincere that a hint of amusem*nt lights up the old Soviet soldier's eyes. The conviction in the cerulean eyes even briefly intimidates him. She's a strong woman, but not arrogant. She's a tall woman, but she looks you in the eyes when she talks. She's a woman with wounds trying to heal as latent as they are inconspicuous. But she will heal.
And above all, when she speaks, she knows that, in one way or another... her answer brings her closer to the Addams in such a way that she knows she belongs to their family without any blood ties.
- "Because I need to know the truth, sir."
That's why Vitali laughs, amused, and as he shakes Enid's hand firmly (the blonde even tries not to complain quietly about the terrible muscle pulls in her shoulder), he gives her a couple of lively pats on her other shoulder, moving the young woman like a drifting boat.
- "...very well. I wouldn’t expect any other answer!" -murmurs are heard in the background of the casino, near the orchestra- "There she goes."
Arlette, dressed in a 1968 Christian Dior red-purple gown and her hair elegantly pulled back, stands out. When Enid notices the Soviet man, it's barely perceptible, but she can tell he's tensed up... as if trying to appear taller. Numerous flashes (including Eve's) bombard the casino owner, who doesn't show even a hint of annoyance at the flashes of light, accustomed to them as she is to basking in the sun in the early hours of the morning. Her mask is dazzling, Venetian-style, with a white moon face bordered, filled with gold and red lace and filigree of delicate carving. The top of the mask is designed like a huge crown. She has her hands elegantly crossed under her breasts, and wrapped around her arms, a long boa of ostrich feathers dyed in a couple of shades darker red. A waiter (all of them wearing simple white masks, some representing comedy, with a malicious grin, and others the tragic, with a heartbreaking scream) brings her a microphone with its stand. Silence falls for a moment in the casino.
- "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Fortuny Casino. Of course, it's not truly necessary for me to mention the name, since all of you are more than regulars here." -there are some discreet laughs among the audience. "But I must mention it." -she points a finger towards the sky- "Because, is there anything more important in a person's life than their achievements?" -she keeps her finger up while waiting for someone to respond. No one says anything- "Of course not. And you know it well. I can see all of you, even under your masks, just as you see me well. There's nothing that surpasses the importance of our triumphs. Although in the case of Miss Saint-Clair, it's clear that her husband must also be considered a great triumph." -a woman, scandalously fat with a laughing face, bursts into huge laughter, with her arm entwined around that of a man who could be her son... or even her grandson- "Or we could also talk about the success of Mr. Recton; despite being only 41 years old, gray hairs have already appeared in his hair... although we must admit that they also help in his conquest of one or two beautiful lovers."
Enid, curious, observes as a man with a black bear mask, so hyper-realistic that he could even count each hair of his fur individually, after a clear and beautiful laugh, raises the thin champagne glass towards Arlette, who mimics his gesture with her own.
-'There you are.'
Arlette kept on- "I could go on listing our successes, such as how incredible it is that Mr. Leclerc still hasn't lost all his hair." -more laughs. A man with incipient baldness, trying to disguise it as best he can by combing his hair in a ridiculous way, pretends to get angry, to the delight of Mrs. Betancourt- "But I think the main thing is to celebrate the most important one; mine. It's been 30 years since this casino was founded, thanks to me and my first husband, pursuing a dream of chance, of fun, and of luxury... and it hasn't gone too bad for me since then." -a man cheers her from afar- "Please, please, save your applause for the end of the night, to be my lullaby when I decide to go to bed." -more laughs. Enid is equally surprised and disgusted by the intense flattery of the customers, and since Recton raised his glass, she hasn't been able to take her eyes off him, while he chats casually with a woman wearing a white dove mask- "Please, enjoy the evening, the games, and everything you wish on this night when we hide from others." -she bows slightly, and the applause is almost deafening; Arlette waves her hand amid laughter, dismissing it, while gracefully taking the hand of a waiter who guides her to a table where roulette is played. Immediately there are people, press, and customers surrounding her to chat, but most of them disperse to the games, to other people, or to the trays filled with champagne, liquor, and appetizers.
- "Enid."
- "Hm?" - she turns to the Soviet man. "Sir?"
- "Moment of truth. We'll have to wait a couple of hours for Raven to entangle that son of a bitch. I want you to keep your eyes on her. Utrecht will go with you. Wandenreich." -he gestures to a man as large as a wardrobe, with tribal tattoos covering his neck- "With me, near the bathroom." -after one last affectionate pat on her arm, Vitali smiles at the agent- "Cheer up, kiddo. This'll be a piece of cake."
- "Yes, sir." -she nods, as the intrusive thought that Vitali resembled her father crosses her mind. She ignores it and stops for a couple of seconds, trying to locate her partner in crime- "Uhh...Mister Utrecht, do you see—?" -she's almost speechless. She hadn't paid much attention, but the other bodyguard wasn't a wardrobe; he was slightly skinny, but at least he reached two meters. He was a damn tower- 'Jesus, Mary and Joseph. And I thought I was tall...' -Utrecht scans his surroundings for a few seconds.
- "The poker table. Position yourself around it. I'll be near the Baccarat table, a few meters away." -he starts walking towards the place and Enid, terribly confused, follows him.
When she finally spots the poker table, located at one end of the casino, close to the wall, she feels the nerves taking a toll on her. Recton is around, drinking a co*cktail while talking casually with two other men. Raven is nowhere to be found.
- ‘And where the hell is she—’
-‘Enid?’
She almost jumps, not used to having her mind invaded in this way- ‘Damn it, Psyche, don't freak me out like that!’
- ‘Sorry, I'm so used to doing it with my family that I forget how intrusive it can be for others. Is Recton around there?’
- ‘Yes. He's talking to a couple of men. They're watching a friend of theirs play, I think.’
- ‘Perfect, keep your eye on him. Raven and I are heading there.’
The connection ends as quickly as it started. Enid, in silence, crosses her arms, never taking her eyes off the man. Different intrusive thoughts swirl around her head, ranging from senseless theories about what role Recton will exactly play in the discussion of Raven's parents' disappearance... to the image of his hands tangled in the young woman's black hair. Annoyed, she has to bite the inside of her cheeks to ignore the incipient rage.
-"What were you talking about with that third-rate reporter?" -Wednesday follows Psyche closely in haste- "What were you talking about with Enid?"
- "God, I... they weren't talking about anything important, Wenny. Your wolf is only yours and no one else's." -she responds tired of the brunette's possessiveness.
- "And what did you want from her?"
- "I like her, that's all. I met her yesterday in Castro and she seemed like an interesting person." -she scoffs, rolling her eyes- "You're like the dog in the manger; neither eating nor letting eat."
- "Why does Shiro let her through? It could be dangerous...for the mission."
- "Sure, it's not because she's Enid's ex, right?"
- "I would never feel threatened by her."
-"Of course." -they both approach the table- "Look, there he is."
Wednesday's heart painfully flutters in her chest with the adrenaline rush. There he is, the same old Recton. Her throat feels as dry as rainless soil; swallowing saliva is painfully uncomfortable, but even more uncomfortable is the piercing sensation of her nails digging into the palms of her hands, fists clenched in blind fury. She had forgotten everything, what she had argued with Psyche about a few seconds ago, her morning with Enid, the calls with Pugsley and Fester.
Trying to separate her rational part from her thirst for violence was now an impossible task as separating water from oil, or mold from rotten food. She doesn't know if she wants to smile, for the pleasure of imagining her hands tangled around his neck, erasing from his face the superficial and self-sufficient smile of the businessman, or if what she feels in her stomach and in the pain in her throat is the threat of an imminent relief cry.
-‘Is it him? For Satan. It has to be him. He has to know where they are. Please.’
Her breath hitched when she felt a hand gently cupping her closed fist. Psyche's hand, which keeps her eyes fixed on the table, perfectly disguises the intimate contact while being completely surrounded by customers.
-
‘Come on, Wednesday. We've got this.’ -Psyche's voice resonates in her head with determined understanding and encouragement- ‘He's bored; I hear everything. Sit at the table and play, grab his attention.’
- ‘Don't stray.’
- ‘I'll tell you everything I hear.’
She shies away from Psyche's touch and takes a deep breath as she walks toward the poker table. Her spine stiff as an Egyptian temple pillar; her steps confident yet serpentine. Ten steps. Five. Two. Jones's eyes on her, she can feel them. Enid's too.
With genuine elegance, she pulls her hair back and sits at the table. The game hasn't started yet. But it will now. Jones is behind her, and without Psyche telling her, she can feel how his eyes analyze her bare back. There's a murmur when she sits among the other three players, two men and one woman. The anticipation around them doesn't surprise her: poker can be one of the most attractive games in a casino. Intrigue, deceit, pride, greed, intelligence...bathed in the need to know your opponent, to get into their mind.
Plus a little luck, of course.
She places all the chips she brought with her, in the same clutch purse where Thing patiently waits. There's a slight (very slight) gasp from someone in the audience when $15,000 in chips are placed. Ten of them, bright orange, valued at a thousand, four purple five-hundred ones, and the rest, a considerable stack of black chips valued at a hundred. She looks forward, beyond the table, and can't help but smirk with superiority when Enid, despite wearing sunglasses, has her mouth slightly open in surprise at the enormous amount of money at stake. Dumb pup.
- ‘Wens. Focus.’
- ‘I'm focused. You focus on him.’
- ‘You've got his attention. Play, I'll whisper the cards to each one—’
- ‘No. Just focus on him. I've got this.’
- ‘How long has it been since you played poker, Willa?’
- ‘It's like dissecting animals and taxidermying them. You never forget... and it's better to get your hands dirty. Trust me.
Another smirk escapes her when she feels the telepathic connection with Psyche abruptly cut off. Trust her then. She looks again at Enid, while the dealer talks about the minimum blind bet. $100. With little interest, she abandons the chip and tosses it onto the table with the rest of the participants, leaning her elbow on the table languidly, her eyes fixed on the blonde.
- ‘f*cking hell.’ -despite the tense situation, the blonde manages to articulate that clumsy thought- ‘Don't look at me like that.’ -she swallows hard, impressed by the predatory eyes behind the mask. After dealing the two cards to each player, the dealer burns the first card and places the flop of the first three cards on the table. Enid would like to look at the cards, genuinely interested in the game, but she can't take her eyes off Raven, and sometimes fixes them on Jones, feeling an unpleasant burning in the pit of her stomach. How lucky the damn one is, being able to see the curves of the shoulder blades, how they rise, how tense, how strong they are, like those of a panther about to tear its prey apart. Damn. Damn. She looks back at Raven's face, who smiles at her again with a malice that says Yes, I'm watching you. I feel you. She would give anything to be the cards Raven has laid on the table, those face down that she's tapping with one of her fingers and her nacreous nail. Anything. Jones says something, and smiles, pointing to the table. An ace of hearts, a five of diamonds, and a four of diamonds. Not bad, not perfect either.
- "Check," one by one, the players at the table comment. Raven seems to think for a few seconds...before picking up three more black chips.
- "I'll raise 300$. " Enid looks at her in surprise, but now she's being ignored. She understands, and likes it even more. The way she seems not to give a damn, that she doesn't care, she knows that under that layer of indifference there's total and complete concentration, analytical and cold. The other players also raise the bet. There's already 1.600$ on the table. As much as Enid's monthly salary. The blonde bites the inside of her cheeks, outraged. 1.600. In three seconds. In a silly game. As if it were nothing, as if it were just cheap plastic. Incredible. Incredible in its absurdity.
The dealer burns another card. And places the fourth card, the turn. A seven of diamonds. Enid had played poker before, despite not being an expert. If Raven had two diamonds in her hand, she would already have a flush...and if worst comes to worst, if she has one, she could pray that the last river card is a diamond too. Her other option would be to have a six and a three and go for the straight.
- ‘Straight flush?’
Scared, she thinks about the infinitesimal possibility. A straight flush. The only thing better than that would be a damn poker. Impossible. She crosses her arms, tense. One of the other players throws $200 onto the table. They all imitate him, except the woman, who folds and lays her cards on the table with slight indignation.
Last one. Enid swallows hard, and watches as Raven puts a cigarette in her lips. Before she can light it, a hand appears next to her arm, with a high-quality metallic zippo lighter.
- ‘Son of a bitch.’ -from a distance, Enid watches as Jones leans toward the assassin with a charming smile. She can see Wednesday's lips move in a soft thank you; she's so indignant that she almost feels like burning. The dealer burns and deals the river. Most of the spectators lean over the table to get a better look at the outcome.
Another seven, this time of clubs- ‘sh*t-’ -any of the options considered is discarded cruelly. The contrast of the black against that sea of reds is disappointing. Silence falls over the table. One of the men, with a Japanese oni mask, places no less than four orange chips on the table. $4000. Three months of hard work at the FBI... plus maybe the Christmas bonus.
Almost 2 whole years of work at the gas station, from Monday to Saturday. A drop of cold and annoying sweat runs down her neck to the edge of her shirt...she feels short of breath when she notices that Raven hasn't taken her eyes off her, holding the cigarette between her delicate fingers. She taps a couple of times over the cards, waiting patiently.
The man with the African Ivory Coast mask moves a huge pile of orange chips onto the table- "I see it and raise another $4,000."
That's when the blonde feels pale and slightly dizzy. $14,200. There are $14,200 on the table in just one round. These people are crazy.
- ‘No. Not crazy. They just can afford it.’ -because what would she do with all that money? Don't play it lightly, that's for sure. Vacations. Rent a new house for Cedrick, Allen, and Dad. Go with Yoko to Thailand, where she always wanted to visit. f*ck. Holy sh*t- ‘Bird what the f*ck are you doing?!’ -if she could she would say it out loud, outraged, but she's unable to raise her voice, unable to even open her mouth. When Wednesday notices this, her smirk becomes even more pronounced. She moves the mountains on the table with ease.
- "All-in. The $14,200 I have left-" -Jones smiles behind her, interested. After a few moments of hesitation, the man with the oni mask lays his cards on the table. It's just them two now. The man looks at her with amusem*nt... and matches the amount on the table.
-"Poor thing. I'll give you what's missing, don't worry." -he spreads his hands on the table, where three mountains of at least $20,000 stand- "Chump change. I match her bet."
The dealer, without much reverence, finally announces- "Showdown. Mister Palmer?"
- "Flush." -he shows his cards with slight arrogance. A king of diamonds and a jack of diamonds. Enid can't help but murmur a goddamn under her breath. She was right, a damn flush. And with very high cards. And yet, Raven keeps looking at her, as if she weren't there. She hasn't even looked at Mister Palmer's cards on the table. Not even to stop smiling, and it's so overwhelming, to have the dark-haired woman's eyes constantly fixed on her when $15,000 damn dollars are at stake is probably one of the most absurd and intense things she's ever felt.
- "Miss..."
- "Miss Ortega," she corrects with charming grace, and taps her cards again with her nail. She takes them between her fingers and you can almost hear the tension, thick as tar over the sea- "Here it is."
There's a commotion around the table as people gather a bit more to see the cards...followed by some exclamations; the dealer has to shout over them- "This round goes for Miss Ortega."
- ‘How? But—’ -after discreetly standing on tiptoe, she manages to see her lover's cards. Pair of aces. Pair of aces, plus the one on the table... plus the two sevens. Full house- ‘She…’ -people crowd around her and congratulate her, and they're even more surprised to see the apparent naturalness of the young woman, who chats cheerfully with the rest of the customers, and even shakes hands with her last opponent. In front of the assassin, a parade of chips in mountains perfectly arranged by colors in tenths of a second, all of the same height, being such an orderly and meticulous woman. She has won about $28,000 in just one round. Admired, she allows herself to smile, while she responds with slight shyness to the gesture, taking her seat again. The joy lasts only a short while when she sees Jones Stewart Recton sitting in the chair left vacant by the man with the oni mask.
He introduces himself to her, taking her hand and giving it a chaste kiss on the back, while Jenna Ortega/Raven laughs with the perfect mix of mischief and embarrassment. Anyone would say that this personality, this facade that has been specifically built for this mission, is not her true self. She's natural, cheerful, she's never seen her smile more than this...she decides that it has its charm, but she doesn't quite like it. She prefers her natural self. The one with a bad temper. The serious one. The know-it-all, the quiet and slightly antisocial. No one truly sees it but all the smiles she gives are fake. They're not the real ones she shows, her half-smirks full of pride, the clear laughs she only lets go when they're alone. Or even when she doesn't want to burst out laughing and chooses to snort, hiding the laughter, it's a thousand times more realistic than her. She could be an actress, the way she masks her true self. She feels strange. She knows that if it weren't for her presence, Raven could be without a mask right now; that all this nonsense of the costume ball was designed solely and exclusively so that Raven could act without revealing her identity.
They could see her, yes. Enid not. Not yet... but they wish they knew her as she does. She knows she's tense from the way her fists occasionally clench, discreetly. Even her constant tapping on the table is a sign of her irritation. When Jones kissed her hand, she felt her jaw tighten, disgusted with the physical contact of any human being around her... except hers, as had already admitted.
They will never know her. Not like this. Recton offers his own chair with apparent chivalry and sits next to the young woman as the dealer deals the cards. Wednesday looks at Enid one last time before Jones claims his attention. He offers her a glass of champagne. She accepts, despite imagining ways she could kill the man with what she had at hand. Her own fists. Cards can be quite sharp... she could stab him in the eyes. Cut the spaces between his fingers and sprinkle lemon and salt on the wound. As soon as she has a thin champagne glass in her hands, she has the overwhelming temptation to grab the man's mouth and make him chew the glass
- ‘Alright, let's try to control those macabre thoughts, Wenny. Color me impressed. Sometimes you resemble my mother so much it scares me. Good game, and no cheating.’
- ‘I won't allow any more insults, as I don't believe I'm anything like your mother. What does this idiot think?’
- 'Nothing you don't already know. I think he's imagined getting under your skirt in 40 different ways just in this game alone. I've had to hold myself back from going to vomit in the bathroom.’
- ‘I prefer to ignore that last sentence. Let me know when it's the perfect time to deceive him.'
- 'Got it. I'll see what you can tell him, but I don't think it'll be necessary.
She turned her attention back to the cards, now in front of her, and placed the 100 chip for the initial bet. For the rest of the night, she stopped watching the blonde, focusing her attention on Recton, enduring his flirtatious comments, and reluctantly releasing her own (much to her dismay), noticing the man's ego swell with her attention. Patience. It's all a matter of patience...
Hours later, Enid can almost feel the urge to wolf-out- ‘What a bastard.’ -she thinks to herself, prey to jealousy; the way they seem to be getting along drives her up the wall. She almost thinks of pulling out the gun when the man lights another cigarette, smiling attractively and playfully- ‘Do you know what happened hours before coming here, f*cking pig? You wanna know?’ -A flash in her memory of Wednesday on her knees, touching herself with teary eyes from excitement, her hair a mess, and the sound of her slick every time she slid her fingers through her slit. Her voice breaking- ‘Wanna know, huh? Wanna kno-’
- "Enid." -Vitali's voice sounded through the earpiece, startling her- "Are you there, kiddo?"
-"f*ck! Yeah. Yes, sorry. I'm here."
- "How are they doing, are they close?"
- "Like a couple of lovebirds."
- "Fausto and Shiro are near the bathroom, just in case something goes wrong, but everything's set." -when Wednesday looked up at the blonde, she nodded, giving her the signal. Immediately after, Raven glanced at Psyche.
- ‘Do you hear me?’
- ‘Duh. I'm the f*cking best.’
- ‘Vitali gave the signal to Enid. What should I do?’
- ‘Let me think.’ -There are a few brief seconds of silence- ‘Okay. Put your hand on his knee.’
- ‘What?’
- ‘Just do it.’
Trying to contain her disdain, Wednesday placed her hand on the man's knee. He showed no sign of surprise but glanced at her while increasing the bet. The cards are revealed.
- "Another victory for Miss Ortega," the dealer confirms. Recton's friends burst into loud laughter, patting him on the back. After collecting her chips, Wednesday gracefully gets up and looks intensely at the man. He seems to understand something because he stands up as well and murmurs something to his friends before starting to follow Wednesday through the casino. Enid has the impulse to follow her, but she remains still.
- ‘Remember, Wends. Be careful.’
- ‘As always. Good job Psyche.’
Psyche sighs tiredly, wiping the sweat from her forehead. It was already difficult to follow one person's train of thought...two were almost unbearable. She smiles a little at the FBI agent as she approaches, concerned- "Hello, Enid."
- "Are you sure this will work?" -she stands on tiptoe and watches her lover and the victim walk between the slot machines toward the hallway where the bathrooms are located- "Will it be okay?"
- "Trust her, Enid. Everything will be fine. My cousin knows what she's doing. I'm sorry for reading your mind before... and the previous time. I know it's not..."
- "No, it's not your... well..." -she murmurs, scratching her neck- "I forgive you. Seriously, it's okay."
-"Can I ask you something?"
- "Of course."
- "Eve... she—"
It's as if liquid nitrogen had entered her spinal cord, freezing everything in its path. She emits a surprised scream, her knees giving out, having to hold onto Enid like the safety barrier of a bridge. The blonde says something to her, concerned, shaking her shoulders, but she doesn't hear her. She doesn't hear her because—
- ‘You have a lot of courage. Wanting to delve into my head like that, young lady.’
With glassy eyes and a painful spasm in her limbs, she can barely look at Recton from afar. He has turned only for a moment, but she can feel it... the third eye covered behind his mask... the cold. It's so cold. She feels Enid's hands shaking her shoulders now more forcefully, but she feels them numb and detached from herself, intense and bruised pain at the back of her head. When did she end up on the floor? She thinks she hears screams in the distance, as if she were hearing them from the other end of a long tunnel... because above them is the voice.
- ‘Tsk, tsk... you haven't learned anything yet. You are insolent creatures, Addams and Frump. There hasn't been a psychic born on the face of the earth who can stand against me, brat.’
Enid. She has to warn Enid, but she's slipping away... the corners of her vision begin to darken, as if a black hole were sucking her in; her heart, which with the adrenaline of the terrible fright seemed like that of a mouse caught in a trap, is beating slower and slower. And damn it. It's so cold.
- ‘Sleep.’
And there was nothing more.
Enid screams for help, holding the young woman in her arms, with her knees on the ground. She doesn't even have the temptation to cry. Everything has been so sudden that she still finds herself submerged in a foggy and thick shock. It wasn't necessary for her to call Vitali with the earpiece; in just tenths of a second, he appeared there, as if he had been summoned. She almost pushes Enid (not out of malice, but out of pure instinct) and tries to revive her niece, slapping her. The Soviet falls silent upon seeing the young woman's third eye completely white, except for the blood-engorged sclerotic veins, like rivers on snow. Enid hadn't noticed it, but some foam had fallen from the corners of the girl's mouth and reached the sleeve of her jacket. The shock is total; murmurs, screams. More than one customer has already approached the waiters, who hurry to call an ambulance.
As soon as Arlette arrives, she doesn't even scream. She can't scream; she only emits a distressed groan, throwing herself on her knees, almost crawling towards her eldest daughter- "No, no, no. My girl. My sweet girl, wake up!" -Psyche's pale, catatonic head against the red dress, being held in her lap. She begins to move, as if she wanted to rock her as she did when she was little, when she was afraid of the dark and begged for her mom to please let me sleep with you but now she doesn't wake up she doesn't wake up- "Psyche! Psyche, my love, It’s mommy!" -clumsily wipes the corners of her mouth with her thumbs, tears falling from her face to her daughter's- "PSYCHE!! Psyche, my love, I- " -more incomprehensible babbling. Utrecht quickly kneels beside the woman. Enid thinks she feels a hand pulling her jacket.
- "Enid!" -Eve shouts, trying to lift her up- "ENID! WHAT HAPPENED?! EN-"
The moment she sees Vitali running like a bat out of hell to the bathroom, she can't even respond to her dear ex-girlfriend. She hears nothing at all.
And it's a good thing she can't hear anything yet.
The bathroom stall becomes the nightmare she knew it would be from the moment she entered. She didn't expect it to be friendly, of course... but she didn't expect something like this either. They barely exchanged a few words until they reached the last stall of the men's bathroom. Not even a kiss (she didn't want that either), but being practically shoved against the wall as soon as they entered caused a clear void in Addams's stomach that brought sudden waves of nausea. The mouth against her neck licks the piece of skin it reaches, and even dares to bite the hollow of her shoulder. Her counterpart, this one she has named Jenna, tries to emit a playful, excited, breathless giggle, but it almost sounds like a disgusted whimper - "Wait, wait, Mr. Recton-"
- "Shut up." he ignores her, and his hand goes down to her thigh, trying to lift her dress up to her hip. In panic wrapped in unpleasant vulnerability, remembering a peculiar claw. One that didn't have rainbow colors- "Shut up."
- "Wait, wait..." she tries to find the man's hand, but it is moved aside without much regard - "Wait!"
-"What's wrong, Addams."
Wait
- "Don't you want to flirt anymore?"
Her breath gets stuck in her throat with the blow of reality. When she tries to reach for the secret lever behind the marked tile, Recton delivers a strong blow to her private parts; a dull pain spreads through her legs, and when she tries to pull a knife from her neckline, the man grabs her hand and twists it painfully, twisting her wrist with a sharp snap. She hears her own voice, her own scream dying in her vocal cords when the man, with a huge smile, uses his free hand to remove the bear mask. His third eye on his forehead blinks with curiosity at the noise.
- "What did you want, girl. This?" -he looks for the tile and activates the lever. The toilet moves down as if swallowed by the earth. In the absurdity of her astonishment, the idea of an ancient temple trap, with its sliding mechanisms, crosses the assassin's mind. In place of the toilet, there is now only a black square hole in the bathroom floor, and at the bottom of it, a neon light seems to shine. Smiles when he sees the purse, which she had left lying on the floor, clumsily trying to get out- "Oh, the famous Thing Addams is still alive, huh?" -he giggles, kicking the purse, which falls through the hole. He whistles, and the friends accompanying the businessman enter the bathroom with him and hold Wednesday by the arms; Jones by the ankles, while she tries to kick as much as she can to get rid of them.
The terrible impact when she falls into the pit, and finally she can scream, but it's a momentary relief; the exhalation of the scream is immediately followed by the torment of the blow that almost threatens to break some of her vertebrae; when she hits the back of her head upon landing, the dizziness and the sensation of blood running from what she thinks is her ear make her scream again, but only a thin voice escapes her now, barely a whimpering, almost childish. She hears voices. They are coming down, they are coming down, and Thing, who has managed to get out of the purse, is tapping the floor so fast, so frightened that it's almost gibberish.
Her mouth feels thick, heavy with the lack of saliva, and she tries to murmur- "Go... Thing... go-o..." -she tries to get up, but she knows she's irretrievably screwed when she can't move her torso. She tries to roll onto herself, and the dress gets tangled halfway on her legs. Her familiar refuses, tapping on the floor again at lightning speed- "Thing..."
- "Hey, not bad." -she hears one of them say as they plant their feet on the ground, after the three of them descended the ladder- "She's pretty cute. So this is the Addams kid?"
- "I was expecting something else, to be honest." -the second one approaches and kicks her in the ribs. Before Thing can jump onto the aggressor's face, he is held in the air by Recton, who throws the severed hand at the first of his friends as if it were a child's toy.
- "Damn! It's the hand!" -with the little vision she possesses, Wednesday manages to see the young man extend his claws. A werewolf- "Wow! I thought he would be dead or something!"
- "God. That thing is disgusting. And these two are from the same family?"
- "Cut off his fingers. I want to see if he can walk the same without his thumb." -Jones comments with genuine curiosity, and the three laugh as the werewolf and the other guy hold him. The hand trembles and twists in vain, like the prey of a pack of beasts each trying to get a piece. The businessman looks down when he feels a hand close around his ankle- "And you..." -he smiles- "What am I going to do with you?"
- "Don't kill her. There's still time to do something with her-"
-"What the hell did I tell you?" -Jones spits contemptuously at the young man as he puts his heel on Wednesday's neck, who wraps both arms around his calves, digging her nails into the skin, but the man remains impassive- "You guys focus on the hand. This one's mine." -with a languid leech-like smile, he begins to squeeze even harder on the neck against his boot, crushing Wednesday's larynx and cutting off all air supply. She gasps like a fish out of water, now trying to weakly punch the businessman, who laughs even louder- "What a sh*tty plan you've made...do you think I didn't see through your intentions? Your family's intentions? I'm not going to kill you, Addams. No... I need you so your family doesn't kill me." -he murmurs, delighting in Wednesday's eyes filling with tears, turning red from the pressure- "You want daddy and mommy?"
All the time she had been struggling for air...all the will to fight escapes her momentarily.
- "Where do you think they are, Wednesday?" -he smiles, guessing her thoughts, the third eye shining like a castaway's treasure- "Where do you think they are? Wher-" -he turns his head when he hears a satisfied scream from the werewolf, releasing only a minimal amount of pressure from Wednesday's neck- "Oh, damn, the thumb really came off."
- "Look, look how disgusting!" -she doesn't want to vomit, but the assassin feels like when she's just been able to breathe a bit, that the taste of bile floods her mouth. In the werewolf's hand, dripping with blood, Thing's severed thumb still wriggles like a butterfly- "It's still moving! Stil-”
She has never been happier in her entire life (despite it being a sound she already enjoyed) to hear a gunshot. The werewolf has let go of the thumb and has run away down one of the long corridors with sickly white neon lights and irregular flickering. Recton quickly grabs Wednesday by the hair, rummages through her clothes for a gun, and aims it at the girl's neck. The second man has fallen to the ground, with a gunshot to the top of his skull.
She believes she's hearing...yes...they are here. She doesn't even feel the pain in her body from the countless blows or mind the cold on her legs. The back pain has even taken a backseat.
'-Thing…’ -she thinks to herself, not caring in the slightest if Recton can hear her- ‘Take Thing... I'm fine, I'm- Don't look at me. Enid. Don't look at me. Please.’
The first one to come down is Vitali, with the gun in his hand aiming at Jones. Wednesday barely manages to hide her head in the man's body. Is it not incredible that despite everything, besides thinking about Thing, the only thing on her mind was still keeping her identity hidden?
The Soviet aimed the gun at the man's head, showing no emotion- "Enid, here." -shortly after, the blonde comes down, pointing the gun, while Wednesday does her best to cover her face. When she sees Jones, she almost lunges at him, but Vitali stops her by extending his arm in front of her- "No. The other one. Look for the other one."
- “But-” -she sounds strangled, as if she couldn’t believe what was happening in front of her eyes- “But her…”
-"Enid, the other one."
The young Scottish girl obeys reluctantly, wandering down the hallway. Shortly after, Utrecht and Wandereich come down as well - "Guys, how's Psyche?"
-"Shiro and Miss Betancourt are with her, sir. We still don't know her condition."
- “Go after Enid, quickly." -he hasn't taken his eyes off Jones, and once both bodyguards go after Enid, he mutters under his breath - "I can handle this bastard on my own."
-"Big talk for someone who has his niece on someone’s hands." -he responds mockingly, pressing the gun barrel against the girl's neck- "She had a good fall."
- "What did you do with Psyche?"
-"Nothing special. Just caught her snooping around in my head... and scolded her for it. This plan of yours was doomed to fail from the start." -Vitali, out of the corner of his eye, sees Thing crawling on his four fingers. He wants to move to assist him, but Jones hisses at him- "Nu huh huh... leave the hand alone where it is, commie."
-"Let her go."
- "Let her go? After all your dear niece was thinking of doing to me? Torture me, castrate me...all for her parents." - he grips Wednesday's cheeks tightly, forcing her to remove her face from his coat- "Really?"
- "You've been involved in this sh*t from the beginning. I know you-"
- "Of course I had something to do with it. Gomez and Morticia were going overboard, Krivonischenko. Getting into her head was as easy as walking through a door... and that bitch had some good psychic powers."
- "Are they alive?"
- "Does that even matter anymore?"
- "Answer."
- "Shhhh, shhhh..." - he brings his fingers to his lips - "Don't you hear it, Vitali? There, in the distance?"
- The soldier listens intently. Nothing. Not a sound... until he hears a thud that echoes through the hallway. He looks through it, but it's dark as a wolf's mouth - "Utrecht?! Wandenreich?! Enid?!" - he looks at Jones again, who still has his finger on his lips - "What have you done, you bastard?!"
- "Your werewolf isn't very effective, you know, Vitali? Mine realized that bodyguard was one from the moment she entered the casino. Tsk, tsk..." -still holding Wednesday, he forces her to stand, gripping her by the hair and resting the gun barrel against her nape. Through the haze, Wednesday manages to see Vitali, how he, bewildered, fearful for his niece's well-being, begins to lower the gun- "I could never beat you in combat. Not from a distance... nor up close." -he admits, and presses Wednesday's back to his body, now moving the gun to her temple- "You're terrifying, Vitali. All the Addams are. Gomez and Morticia too."
- "...they are." - his eyes widen, and he feels his stomach do a 180º turn. There are screams at the end of the hallway, and he knows he should be alert, he has to be alert but - "Where are they?!"
- "Hmm. That's hard to say. They could be in so many places..." -he murmurs, and discreetly looks towards the hallway- "In some South American hideout. In Asia. Underground...who knows?"
- "WHERE ARE THEY?!" -losing patience, he takes another step forward- "WHE—"
- "Shhhh... here it comes, look." -he points to the end of the hallway- "Do you see it?"
For a moment, Vitali is able to see it. Two eyes glowing in the darkness. Something is moving towards them, slowly, with claws crunching and scratching the cement beneath its body. He knows what it is before it is revealed in the light; he knows because before the neon reaches her, he is able to smell the warm blood, the entrails, the plasma. The constant dripping. For the first time in all his years of training, his gun, which seemed fused to his hand, falls to the ground in horror. He barely has time to raise his hands.
- "No. no. NO! ENI—"
The Soviet's head is pulverized when Enid, in her huge and terrifying werewolf form, which could barely move down the hallway, has lunged towards him and ripped the man's head off, leaving only a bit of spinal cord as a reminder. Wednesday, amidst the shock haze, is even able to laugh, because everything seems like such an absurd dream to her. The creature's dark golden hair speckled with blood everywhere, the wrinkled snout showing its teeth, with bits of flesh caught in them. She laughs even louder when Jones points the gun at Enid and shoots her in the shoulder, near the chest. The cries of pain shake the walls as the beast retreats into the darkness again, but even louder are the Addams' laughs when she is thrown to the ground and hits her nose, which has been feeling as numb as her back for a while now. And the kicks. Each one of them resounds throughout the small room filled with bodies. Thing has also stopped moving. No one moves except Jones, who is ecstatic, hitting the young woman over and over again. He's yelling things at her. Insults. Something about her parents. He's also laughing a lot, but everything hurts so much that she can't even hear his words anymore. She doesn't hear him when suddenly he stops hitting her. When she opens her eyes, there is someone else in the room with them, who raises their hand... and suddenly silence.
When Jones falls beside her, she's surprised not to see his face, but a lead mask covering absolutely every inch of his head. It's a smooth mask, similar to a chess pawn's head, through which not a single ray of light escapes, nor a space to breathe; she kicks and screams inside the metal like an enraged child, hitting everything in her path. Fausto's large, sincere hands barely hold her, and he gently taps her face a couple of times - "Wednesday. Wednesday—!"
She wants to scream at him. She wants him to look for Enid, for Thing. Where is Vitali? But all she can do is laugh before the shock finally wins the battle. Before fading into oblivion.
—-------------------------------------------------------
In another place far away from there, in another time, a young man finally awakens from his slumber. His mouth feels pasty from days without water, and he notices the muscles in his buttocks are stiff. Grunting and moving his head slightly, the first thing he realizes is that he's sitting, and the room is freezing. When he opens his eyes a little and sees his head tilted forward, he can see his underwear stained with dried blood, like chocolate-colored crusts. He blinks a couple of times, and as he tries to touch his legs, he finally realizes his hands are tightly tied behind the chair. He grunts again and tries to stretch, without success.
Another thing he notices besides his lack of clothing and restricted movement is that the room he's in is unlike anything he's ever seen. It has a dull grayish color, like a church bell or cemetery gate, with a faint glow, as if something inside it was absorbing the light. It is a room completely covered in metal, with no decoration except for a blue light lamp on the ceiling.
Satyro Addams looks ahead, where a woman, sitting in a comfortable armchair, is reading a book with a cup of tea. She is a woman in her late thirties, with light red dyed hair and slightly sharp-framed glasses. She coughs a bit, and upon noticing, the woman stands up.
- "Oh, you're awake."
- "What-what the hell is this? Where am I?"
- "Shhh... quiet now. You've been asleep for many days. Here." -she brings a small bottle of water close- "Open your mouth."
Satyro hesitates... and then opts to spit on her dark dress. The woman merely raises an eyebrow and leaves the bottle of water forgotten beside her.
- "You shouldn't be so proud in this situation, Mister Satyro."
- "Suck it."
- "I've heard the only way to kill a satyr is by tying him to a tree and flaying his skin." -she caresses the boy's face with apparent affection, but quickly withdraws her hand when he tries to bite it- "Is that true?"
- "Ha! Come and try it!"
- "Oh no no." -she raises her hands and laughs- "It was just mere curiosity. Tell me, young man. Where is your cousin?"
- "As if I would tell you anything, whor*." -Satyro lifts his head, looking at the ceiling- "Keep trying. I'd rather die than be a snitch."
- "Do you really prefer that, Mister Addams?"
- "Stop asking absurd questions and get to the point. Take me to the tree and do what you want. I'm tired."
- "Yes, I suppose you are..." -from her pocket she takes out a small photograph- "But if you don't tell me where she is... I have no problem hurting you. If death isn't a great threat to you, perhaps hers is." -she throws a couple of photographs at his feet. As soon as Satyro lowers his head and sees them, he starts writhing in the chair like an animal, until it ends up tipped over. The woman ignores him while she collects the chair and her cup of tea, taking one last sip.
- "DAMN BITCH! WHERE ARE THEY?! HUH?!" -he shouts even more, numb from thirst and anger, continuously struggling as she turns towards the exit- "WHERE ARE THEY?!"
- "We will talk in a few hours. When your pride is extinguished."
She closes the room and leaves the light off. The Addams boy shouts a few more times at the unknown woman, banging his head against the floor.
In the photograph, a skeletal Gomez and Morticia, in separate rooms, ghosts that still beat. When he feels his throat is going to give out, he swallows the little saliva he has left and begins to cry.
