Chapter Text
The darkly stained oak door has barely finished creaking open before I am auditorily accosted by a sound that could only come from a wounded banshee. Or my gleeful roommate, my mind corrects as the wind is knocked from my lungs. Enid’s over-eager embrace is as awkward as ever, but I would be lying if I claimed that I had not developed a sort of affection for her over the past semester, so I drop my bags and stiffly pat my hand on her back instead of bolting from the room. She understands the implied warmth of this greeting, coming from me. She is all smiles as she steps back to regard me. I regard her as well and realize she has changed during our tragedy-induced extended holiday break. Most obviously, the tips of her platinum blonde hair are no longer a faded pastel cacophony, but a rainbow of neon colors so vivid they nearly burn my retinas. Her smile is toothier in some way I can only assume relates to her recent transformation. Finally, and less overtly noticeable, but still detectable to a trained eye such as my own, she carries an air of self-confidence I had not previously noted.
“Wednesday! You look great! I’m so glad you’re back!” Enid squeals.
“I am… glad to be back.” It is the truth, though I still require the short pause to force such an emotional admission from my mouth. “And you look like a unicorn was exposed to radioactive plutonium before vomiting on your hair.”
“So you like it?” She sounds confident rather than seeking approval.
“For you, it works.” I give a curt nod of acceptance to end the pleasantries.
I proceed to pick some of my belongings back up from the floor, and am struck with a wave of nostalgia as I carry my things to my half of our dormitory room and begin replacing them where they had all been just three months previously. This is not the first time today that I have been assaulted by such uncharacteristically sentimental emotions, and I am becoming concerned that my return to Nevermore Academy may have been a bad idea.
“So? How was your break? What did you do? Were your parents, like, super proud of you for saving the school?”
“I spent most of the break exacting vengeance on the local pubescent hooligans that had wrongfully believed they could torment my brother during my absence. And it appears that I have a stalker now. Overall, it was a pleasant distraction.”
“Ok. Roll that back for a second. You have a stalker? Like somebody’s liking all your Insta pics and blowing up your DMs type of stalker? Which is ridiculous because you hate social media and if you had gotten on any platform I would have totally known about it… so that means it’s like a real creepy, going to end up as a Netflix miniseries kind of stalker?”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Yeah. You’re right. Like, who could follow you around for more than 5 minutes and not realize that whatever he’s thinking about trying is not going to end well for him? If you’re not concerned about it, I’m not going to be concerned. Let them try something. We can take them. We’re the crazy baddy roomies that saved the whole school last semester!”
“I cannot argue with your logic.” Seeing that she appears ready to burst with poorly contained excitement, like a carton of putrefied milk left in the summer sun, I ask the question she clearly wants to answer, “How was your break? I assume your family dynamics have improved following your transformation.”
“OMG. It was amazing. My mom basically blew up her old person facebook with posts about how proud she is and that I clearly follow after her, blah blah blah. I mean, it’s nice to have her off my back, but it’s like she’s taking credit for everything, and the whole pack fam is congratulating her like she’s the one that fought a Hyde.”
I feel certain that I keep my expression neutral, even as the now predictable stab of emotion pierces my bowels at her last word. But she flinches and quickly changes the subject, suggesting that I must have developed some form of external tell. Damn these emotions.
“I just… I mean… I mostly just hung out with my family. But, oh yeah! Ajax came to visit for a whole week and he stoned my really annoying little brother. He couldn’t move for a day and a half. It was hysterical. Ajax and I, we’re, like, officially girlfriend-boyfriend material now.” The ecstasy in her beaming visage quickly snuffs out as if she realizes that this particular train of thought also leads to topics bound to exhume unwanted feelings that I went through great lengths to bury over the past months.
As if on cue, Bianca, Ajax, and a few of the other Nightshades appear in our doorway as a viable distraction.
“Girl.” Bianca greets me with a tip of her chin and, intelligently, without attempting to hug me. “I’m glad to see you came back. Honestly, when I heard what was up, I was sure you were gonna peace out and never give this place another look. You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”
“What is up?” I ask suspiciously.
“You didn’t tell her?” Bianca glares at Enid.
“Tell me what?”
“She just got here. I didn’t have a chance.” Enid continues as if I’m not even here.
As I am about to start strangling answers out of people, I notice that Xavier has also snuck into our room at the back of the gaggle of visitors.
“Maybe you’ll reconsider joining the Nightshades now.” He asks hopefully. “We’re going to need everyone…”
“If someone doesn’t tell me what is going on in the next three seconds, I am going to become angry. You do not want to see me become angry.”
Nearly trembling, Ajax blurts out, “Dude, your boyfriend’s here.” As he says it, he skulks across the room and puts his arm around Enid’s waist as if he’s seeking protection.
His utterance only confuses me more. I look around the pack of uninvited guests clustered just inside the door to our room, and no answers are forthcoming. Only now do I pick up on the undercurrent of tension flowing like a riptide through the others. I scan their faces and see fear and anxiety mixed with grim determination in varying degrees. Still not understanding the “boyfriend” comment, I look to Xavier. We had exchanged exactly eleven lines of text messages over the three month hiatus, most confirming our safe arrivals home and our intentions to return to Nevermore for the next semester. None of that should have reached the threshold for what even Enid would consider “girlfriend-boyfriend material”. Perhaps someone has misconstrued the intention of these exchanges. Xavier is not volunteering any clarity, as he is merely staring daggers into the base of the door frame, overtly avoiding making eye contact with me. Though, there are additional undertones to his expression I don’t see in the others – anger, guilt, and… jealousy?
Before I can demand an explanation, I sense something. I am not having a vision, but the hair on the back of my neck stands on end just the same. I notice that the incessant white noise from outside my room, the indistinct conversations, footsteps on the stairways, and general noise of people moving through the halls has abruptly gone silent as the grave. Amongst the silhouettes of the half dozen teenagers between me and my door, I can vaguely make out an additional human shape hovering just outside the doorway.
“Hey, look at this. A room full of people looking simultaneously terrified and murderous suddenly stopped talking as I walked up. What are the odds they were talking about me?” A bashful and self-deprecating voice I will recognize for the rest of my life cuts through the room like a knife. Or maybe I should say, like a Hyde’s claw.
The Nightshades all gasp and step back from the new visitor, creating an effect like the parting of the Red Sea between myself and Tyler in the door way. I stare like the proverbial deer trapped in headlights, likely with the same risk of impending evisceration. He just stares at me for a long moment, his eyes soft and his grin goofy. It’s the face I had just spent the last three months trying to purge from my memory. The face that had been a lie from the beginning, a clever façade covering up a vile and murderous plot to use me and destroy the people I had reluctantly begun to care about. It had never existed. Yet here it is. I want to flay it slowly and meticulously from his skull. I want him to look as monstrous as I know he is. Mostly I want to stop hoping that he will come to me with some plausible explanation for what happened that absolves him of guilt and confirms that he did care about me and that I am not the biggest moron to ever let her hormones make her become utterly stupid over a pair of dimples and shaggy brown curls. It has to stop because there is no innocent explanation for what he has done. Because even if he did manage to fabricate one, I would never be able to trust it. I know this. I know that hatred is the proper emotion, if I must have one toward Tyler Galpin. And yet, seeing the face of my primary antagonist finally in front of me after months of carefully plotting his demise makes me feel so much more.
Suddenly, Tyler’s face twists into a hateful glare and he nearly growls, “Of course they were talking about you. They all hate you. You should kill them all.” Almost immediately his face drops back to the sweet innocent barista and he whimpers, “But these were my friends. I don’t want to…” The snarling face and voice return just as quickly, “Kill them!”
Reacting with a bit more of a delay than is ideal for a seasoned fighting force, the Nightshades stiffen in shock then step back a bit more and start to get into their best fighting stances. I merely stand my ground, unmoving. We are all expecting to see the murderous Hyde emerge at any second. The others are scared. I want another opportunity to see my nemesis in his true form.
Realizing that violence is about to commence, Tyler’s face drops quickly and he waves his hands frantically in the air, “Whoa. Sorry. I was just kidding.” He drops his hands, his eyes wide, and his posture defensive. “That was just some split personality humor. My therapist… my new therapist… that I have not killed… says I use inappropriate jokes as a defense mechanism. I guess it’s still too soon for this crowd.”
“You think?” Xavier scowls at him. Everyone has dropped out of fighting postures, but no one is actually relaxed either.
“Yeah. I deserve that.” Tyler drops his head and takes a few steps into the room. “I… I was hoping I could talk to Wednesday for a minute.” He is trying his hardest to come across as unassuming and innocent. The group has collectively backed away from him another step or two, but shows no sign of leaving. "Alone?”
“That’s so not going to happen.” Enid steps up next to me and entwines her arm through mine.
I give her some strong side eye and quickly extract my arm from her grip. This is not the time to appear emotional or weak. For some reason, the school’s new administration has allowed this uncontrollable killing machine to walk amongst us. I feel that this is a grave miscalculation on their part. There is not enough research on Hydes to suggest that this is a reasonable course of action. Some other, invariably nefarious, force must be at play here. Someone needs to get to the bottom of this and protect the school. Principal Weems gave her life protecting Nevermore. The very least I can do is continue her mission.
“I will be fine.” I wave a hand dismissively at the gathered crowd.
I get a chorus of “Wednesday, no!”, “You can’t trust him”, and “It’s not safe” from the assemblage. It is also at this time that Thing squirms his way out of my back pack and perches on my shoulder. He gives me his best attempt at a glare and waggles a finger at me.
“I am perfectly capable of defending myself, and I would like some answers.” I look around the room. No one is moving. “So get out.”
The group starts filing out, giving Tyler a wide berth and casting suspicious glares at him as they pass. Xavier’s expression is particularly hostile, but he still complies with my wishes. Seeing my fencing foil in its scabbard on top of my pile of luggage still near the door, Bianca picks it up and tosses it to me as she walks past. I catch it one handed. “Just in case.” She nods before leaving.
Almost everyone has gone now. “It’s my room too.” Enid pouts at me, reluctant to leave.
“I will be fine. Go.” I attempt to will her to leave as I drop my foil onto my as of yet unmade bed.
She gives me a defiant look.
With a sigh, I say the word that I know she knows indicates the severity of my request, “Please.”
“Fine. But I’m going to be right outside.” She says the last part as much to Tyler as to me. On her way past Tyler, she shoves past him and cocks her elbow out to dig into an area on his right flank where she had dealt him a particularly nasty gash during their previous fight.
Tyler winces and fails to fully stifle a hiss of pain. The wound had been a nasty one. I’m not surprised it hasn’t fully healed, even with his Hyde abilities. I am surprised that seeing him in pain induces instinctual feelings more like concern than triumph. That will not do.
“You too.” I turn my head and roll my eyes at Thing. He shakes his wrist back and forth in vigorous dissent. I tip my head and glare at him. He ultimately concedes and hops down from my shoulder, to my bare mattress, then down to the floor. As he scampers past Tyler, he stops and flicks his ankle. Tyler hops to the side a step in surprise. Thing gives him an intense middle finger then exits through the door Enid is holding open for him.
The click of the doorknob latching closed is suddenly palpable as it reinforces the fact that I am alone in a room with Tyler… with the Hyde. I cannot discern which identity causes me more distress. He stands there looking as unimposing as the day I met him in the Weathervane. But I know better. I know it is a lie. I have spent the last three months plotting what form my vengeance against him would take. Yet, his physical presence seems to have derailed my usually overly rational train of thought. Despite my best efforts, I cannot fully suppress the tempest of emotions that fight for dominance even as I try to quash them all. It is reminiscent of playing whack-a-mole, the boring arcade kind, not the real life version Pugsley invented that involved sticks of dynamite.
“Wednesday.” The sound of my name in his voice pulls me from my introspection.
I cut him off and take control of the situation, “I only agreed to this because I have questions. I have no intention of listening to whatever sympathetic fiction you have concocted to attempt to weasel your way out of accepting responsibility for what you did.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His innocent visage has slipped into the self-satisfied smirk I first saw in the police station the night before Crackstone’s resurrection. “Let me guess. You want to know how much of what happened between sweet boy next door Tyler and you was real, and how much was the evil Hyde manipulating you on the orders of his insane master?”
“That line of questioning would only be relevant if I cared about our ill-fated fictitious relationship. Which I do not.” I look him straight in the eyes to emphasize how little effect his attempt to dredge up my former emotions has on me. “I want to know who let you out of your cage and why.”
“Huh.” He appears to be reevaluating something. “I had assumed you had something to do with it. This makes things much more interesting.”
“Why would you assume such a thing?”
“My enrollment at Nevermore was a non-negotiable condition of my release. Can’t imagine there are too many people around this place that would have any interest in me being here.” He shrugs. “How does the whole keep your friends close and your enemies closer thing apply when you don’t actually have any friends?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” We almost naturally fall into position slowly circling each other in the center of the room, sizing each other up as fighters would. Not for the first time, I inwardly curse the massive height discrepancy between us. Genetics have granted even his human form a substantially longer arm span, and thus functional striking distance. Despite my best attempts, the memory of his deformed hand gripping my throat has never been far from my mind over the past three months. Now the memory serves as a tactile reminder of exactly where to position myself to ensure I am out of his reach should he transform in the immediate future.
“Well, this escalated quickly.” He smirks at our aggressive posturing.
“Small talk bores me.”
“Yeah, I always imagined you weren’t the kind of girl that would be into a lot of foreplay. Shame we never got the chance to test that hypothesis.” He quirks an eyebrow lasciviously.
“Vulgar sexual innuendo is the tool of the crude and unimaginative. I expected better from you.” I have somehow managed to keep my expression neutral through this entire uncomfortable exchange.
He snorts and his posture deflates slightly as he comes to a halt near my desk. “My apologies.” He sinks down into my chair in a shift of emotion so sudden it startles me. Though I suppose it should not be that surprising given his condition. “Being essentially castrated can do that to you.”
I do not attempt to hide the shock on my face. I know they were likely to try extreme measures to control his Hyde form, but that seems rather barbaric by any standards.
Seeing my face, he quickly corrects, “No. Not like that. I meant… you wanted to know why they let me out of my cage? It’s because Laurel’s dead. I am a Hyde with no master. Can’t switch into the monster form even if I wanted to.”
“Explain.” I inch slightly closer to him. None of what he just said makes sense.
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
“Sure. Why not?” He’s dejected now. “Not surprising you’d subscribe to the whole ‘know your enemy’ philosophy and all that.”
“Art of War was one of my favorite childhood bedtime stories.” I do not know why I feel compelled to provide this information.
“Of course it was.” He mutters.
“What did you mean, ‘Laurel’s dead’? I only incapacitated her in the courtyard. She had recovered well and was awaiting trial the last I was informed.”
“Turns out she couldn’t handle being kept in confinement.” He snorts derisively. “Ironic considering she had no problem keeping me shackled in a cave for months.” He is staring at the floor as he says it, but the look in his eyes suggests he is seeing something very different. “She killed herself in prison. Found some weeds growing in the prison yard and concocted some kind of poison. She died peacefully in her sleep. A lot better than what she deserved.” The last sentence is a growl.
“Last time I saw you, you were just bursting with oedipal enjoyment at following her every order. Hard to believe a little thing like death would change that.” I question him suspiciously.
He grimaces. “You’d have to know what it’s like being a Hyde to understand.”
“Then enlighten me.” This will make a good test. He does not need to know that I have done my own research over the past three months. Sun Tzu’s philosophies have never let me down this far. If he lies to me, I will know.
“Fine. Here we go. Hyde 101.” He takes a deep breath and starts off dispassionately, “We’re born normal. The Hyde is dormant until around puberty. Hormones or whatever.” He shrugs. “Any time after that, if the person experiences major stress or loss, anything with strong negative emotions, the Hyde starts to take hold. You’re still you, just angrier and more violent with a shorter fuse. And that simmering rage you feel, the one that everyone is writing off as normal teenage angst, it fills in the void left by your pain from whatever trauma triggered it. Anger feels better than pain, so you embrace it.” His eyes look emotionless in a hollow way I have never seen before on him. “The Hyde sits and festers, waiting for its moment to take over. That moment comes when your master breaks you. That book you had called it ‘unlocking’. That’s a cute way to say that someone you trust uses any means of physical and psychological torture to push you to the point of wishing you were dead. That’s what gives the Hyde its opening. You give up and it can take over. That’s why your master is always someone that has earned your trust before they make their move. The betrayal makes it that much worse, makes you that much more hopeless and willing to fully surrender.” A flash of life comes back to his eyes and he smirks, “Oh. Sorry. Did that hit a little close to home?”
His attempt at deflecting attention from his admission is not nearly as successful as he expects it to be. As a writer, I recognize the significance of his choice to tell his story in second person. ‘You turn…’, ‘you are tortured to the point of wishing for death…’ It is a depersonalizing tense. The fact that it happened to him is implied, but he is not forced to speak such personal admissions directly. He is not as unaffected by the trauma in his past as he attempts to portray. Or he is once again attempting to manipulate me into questioning if he feels remorse. The latter seems more plausible.
“You were describing what happens after your master takes control.” Ignoring his comment seems like the most expedient way to get him to continue.
With a disappointed, “Hmph” he returns to his story. “So you turn for the first time. From then on you’re bound to your master. They have total control over the monster – when you turn, what you do. You’re not a person in that form, you’re just a weapon someone else is aiming.” He seems resentful. “The part of you that is the Hyde is grateful to its master for releasing it no matter what sick and twisted things they make you do. The more time you spend in the monster form, the stronger the Hyde gets.”
“You are not about to claim that the Hyde made you do it and you had no control, are you?” I give him a look suggesting that I am not impressed.
“I wouldn’t waste either of our time on a lie that obvious.” He grins. “What’s hard for most people to wrap their heads around is that there aren’t just two completely separate personalities floating around in here.” He taps his head lightly. “Control of the human body isn’t an either/or situation. It’s more like a person being infected with a virus. Sometimes the Hyde flares up enough to be in control, sometimes it goes mostly dormant and you’re left with a typical angsty seventeen year old kid with anger issues and a shitty after school job.”
“So you are basically suffering from the outcast equivalent of Herpes.”
His impatient glare suggests that he is not amused by my metaphor. “I’m just trying to explain that how much of what you get in this form is human and how much is the Hyde can change at any given time.”
I do not want to start subconsciously attempting to determine what ratio of Tyler to Hyde was truly present in all of our previous interactions, so I refocus on the important point of this conversation. “But without a master controlling it, you can’t turn into the monster.”
“That’s the assumption.” He shrugs.
“Assumption?” I question. “That is a rather monumental risk to take in releasing you if they are not certain you are under control.”
“They do currently have me on enough mood stabilizers and horse tranquilizers to… well… tranquilize a horse.” He grins proudly. But then his face drops and I notice he is absent mindedly rubbing the flesh of his lower arm through the stiff fabric of his newly issued Nevermore Academy uniform. “When I was in custody, after Laurel died, they did… things… to see how I would respond. If none of that brought out the monster, I don’t think anything will.”
“Unless you get a new master.” I suppose.
“No one actually knows how that would work for sure.” He gives a dispassionate shrug. “There’s never been a recorded case of a Hyde outliving their master. Usually we get killed doing their bidding or defend our master to the death if they are threatened.”
“So not only are you the first Hyde to be captured alive and successfully detained, but you are also the first to wholly fail their master. Quite a list of superlatives.” I deadpan.
“Thank you for that reminder.” He rolls his eyes at me.
We stare at each other for a long moment, attempting to take the measure of our opponent. Nothing he has said contradicts any of the information I was able to uncover during my research. However, he has filled in a few blanks and added some personal details that are, by their nature, impossible to either confirm or disprove. It leaves me no closer to determining if he is attempting to conceal another hidden agenda.
“So now that you’ve got all the answers I can give you, is this the part where you try to kill me?” He stands and takes a few steps toward me.
“Trying is for losers. I succeed in my endeavors.” I step towards him until we are inappropriately close.
He grins down at me patronizingly. “I may not be able to transform any more, but I’ve still got ten inches and at least fifty pounds on you. It would hardly be a fair fight.”
“For you.” I correct him without surrendering an inch.
We stare at each other with increasing agitation and tension building between us. All the anger, blame, and broken trust between us simmers like a cauldron. Neither of us give any indication of backing down until a sharp single knock resounds on my door in the same instant it begins to swing open. A severe looking older woman steps in authoritatively as Tyler and I reflexively back away from each other. It’s the newly appointed Ophelia Hall dorm mother, Mrs. Ogelvy. I had heard that the school's no-nonsense septuagenarian algebra teacher would be fulfilling that roll this year after the untimely departure of the position's previous occupant. “Miss Addams.” Her voice snaps like a cracking whip. “The principal wants to see you.” Only now does she take in the entirety of the room. “And Mr. Galpin. Quite convenient that you are here, if not expressly prohibited.” She pins me with a disapproving glare. “The new principal wishes to see you as well.”
The interruption has triggered an abrupt end to our conversation and we both wordlessly follow Mrs. Ogelvy through the corridors. I try to keep my mind blank. So much has been said, and not said. It is too much to take in all at once. I will evaluate it all objectively later. I also force myself to ignore the way all conversation stops as I walk by. Correction, Tyler is the trigger for the lulls in conversation. It would appear that I am finally no longer the primary pariah in the school full of outcasts. I am uncertain if that is an accomplishment or an indication that my painstakingly maintained reputation is slipping. Yet one more concern for me to file away for later evaluation. For now I need to focus on meeting the new principal. Nevermore’s pinnacle administrator will hold significant influence over how the next semester will transpire. I do not actually care what they think of me, but I have learned from previous experiences. If I can start off on the right foot with this glorified bureaucrat, perhaps I will be able to avoid many of the obstacles I encountered last semester.
Mrs. Ogelvy delivers us to the door to the principal’s office then quickly departs. I collect myself and straighten my uniform before reaching for the door knob.
I hear Tyler snicker over my shoulder.
“What?” I turn and look him dead in the eyes. There is no trace of the recent malice, and the transformation annoys me further.
“Sorry. I just never expected you to be nervous about seeing…” He trails off as his appraisal of my face leads him to some new conclusion. “You really don’t know who the new principal is, do you?”
I am far more concerned by the fact that Tyler can still read me like an open book than about the impending reveal of our new principal. “I am not nervous. It is a tactically sound decision to attempt to make a good first impression.” I turn and grasp the door knob.
He laughs and I can feel his warm breath against the side of my neck, “It’s a little late for first impressions.”
The sensation triggers a cascade of emotions I know are all completely irrational. Shoving them down to where I can ignore them indefinitely, I confidently stride into the principal’s office and stop a few steps from the desk. Tyler follows and continues to stand just behind my left shoulder. I’m certain that he knows he is invading my personal space, but I am determined not to allow him to distract me from my current mission. He may think he is the master manipulator, but I will show him that two can play this game. I will have this new principal eating out of the palm of my hand by the end of this meeting. The identity of my new target is still obscured, as the occupied chair that used to belong to Principal Weems is turned to face away from the room.
“Wednesday Addams, reporting as requested.” I announce with appropriate deference.
“Wednesday!” The familiar voice assaults me before the chair can finish its rotation. “Darling!”
“Mother.” I may actually be suffering a myocardial infarction. After a brief moment of deep breathing, I begin to recover from shock and address the elephant in the room head on. “What are you doing here?”
She stands and approaches me. Stopping just out of arm’s reach, she clenches her fists together over her heart. “The untimely passing of dear Larissa has left a penetrating wound in the heart of our beloved Nevermore. I felt the calling to step forward and give back to my Alma Mater in its time of need.” Fluttering her impossibly long obsidian eyelashes at me, she questions, “And have you not insinuated that I should be doing more than wasting away as a mere housewife?”
“I believe my intentions on that subject have been misconstrued.” I grind my teeth and regroup to approach this situation from a new direction. “Are you in any way qualified to be a secondary school educator?”
“I have real world life experiences. What more is needed to help guide these young outcasts?” She flutters a hand in front of her face.
“A masters degree in education administration would be a start.” Tyler chuckles in my ear.
I am mortified to realize that a smile is almost threatening to curl the corner of my lips. “And why is he here?” I gesticulate toward my undesirable new classmate.
“I thought you would be pleased to have your little beau available to you without all the cumbersome restrictions that go along with conjugal visits.” My mother grins as if she’s accomplished something spectacular. “It took quite some doing to arrange all this.”
“What makes you think I would want this?” My eyes are likely still so big with shock that they rival the size of those of Tyler’s alternative form.
“Fester told us about your little date, and then Thing told us all the gory details of what you two have been up to.” Her grin is conspiratorial.
“Yes, and then I found out that he is an unrepentant serial killer, I tortured him, he helped kidnap me, and then he tried to kill me.”
“He tried to kill you?” She questions with concern.
I nod my head with brevity.
“Things must be more serious than we thought.” Her concerned face morphs into a wide smile and she opens her arms as if considering embracing both of us. “Your father and I are so delighted. We’ve never had a Hyde in the family before.”
“I am done here.” I turn and move to leave the office.
“You will stop right there, young lady.” My mother commands as if I am a mastered Hyde.
My nostrils flare with resentment as I turn back around. “Yes, mother?”
She returns behind the desk to perch authoritatively on her new throne of mahogany and black leather. “While it appears that your feelings toward this young man are more complicated than I had anticipated…”
“There is nothing complicated about my feelings. I hate him.” I correct.
She gives a long suffering sigh before continuing. “The life of a Hyde is typically short, brutal, and frequently out of their control. Let us not make this one’s any worse than it already has been.” She then addresses Tyler. “I deeply regret that I did not get to know your mother better during the years we both resided at Nevermore, though I suspect that was by design on her part. I remember her only as a very private young woman. Perhaps if some of us had tried harder to engage with her while she was here, we could have been more help when her affliction was ultimately revealed. I will not have the same mistakes repeated.”
Tyler looks terribly uncomfortable with the current topic of discussion. That at least brings me a small amount of enjoyment.
My mother returns to addressing us together, “Accepting a Hyde that has already been unlocked and turned by a master is an enormous risk for Nevermore. The school’s board of directors have considered many options for ensuring the safety of the student body while Tyler is enrolled here. One potential solution that was put forth was the possibility of installing a new master for the Hyde. One that might be… less inclined toward mass genocide.”
“I hope you are not suggesting that I be saddled with this responsibility.” I am barely capable of responding to this inane scheme.
“Do I get any say in this?” Tyler seems even less enamored with this idiotic suggestion than I am.
“Such a decision will not be forced on you.” She seems to be taking her new position of power uncharacteristically seriously. “I merely agreed to present the option to you.”
“While I would relish the opportunity to fine tune my torture techniques.” I give Tyler a spiteful sideways glance. “I have no desire for a new pet. Especially not one that has already been discarded by its previous master and was nearly put down for behavioral issues.”
Tyler is scowling at me with pure hatred in his eyes. “It also wouldn’t work.” He fights to regain some composure as he addresses my mother, “There has to be a level of trust that we clearly don’t have. And the Hyde blames her for its previous master’s death. I don’t think it would ever submit to her.”
“Is there anyone else you have in mind as a potential substitution?” She asks Tyler.
My mother’s question has the same effect as a ball of liquid nitrogen in my stomach. I experience sharp cold in my gut followed by the sensation of all the oxygen being sucked from my lungs as I wait to hear if Tyler, the viscous Hyde, the first worthy adversary I have ever encountered, has some other person that he is willing to submit his life and freedom to. I have heard of jealousy, but this is my first personal encounter with the beast. I feel immense guilt over my reaction as the proverbial green eyed monster fades at Tyler’s answer.
“If it’s all the same to the board of directors, I am rather enjoying having unfettered free will for the first time in almost two years.” Tyler barely tries to contain his sarcasm, “And while being drugged and tortured nearly to death was fun enough the first time, I’m not exactly itching to do it again any time soon.”
“I hope you understand that the suggestion was not made lightly or solely to protect others from any threat you may pose.” My mother must be channeling her departed roommate, because she is actually coming across like a truly competent principal. “Your continued existence as a Hyde without a master puts you and those around you at great risk. That is why we ultimately requested that you be placed in our charge. If word were to get out that there is a young Hyde with a proven track record for violence available to be mastered, many of the world’s most nefarious actors would stop at nothing to obtain you.”
“Short, brutal, and out of my control. Sounds about right.” He grumbles.
“So now we are protecting him?” I question my mother’s logic.
“Like it or not Wednesday, he is one of us now, and Nevermore will not turn its back on a fellow outcast. Not under my watch.”
What an inopportune time for my mother to have found a calling in life.
She gives me a stern look, “I expect you to take some responsibility in ensuring that no harm will befall anyone here at Nevermore while Tyler is with us. Be that by his hand or that of anyone that may come after him.”
“You have got to be joking.” I question my mother.
“I am deadly serious.” Her face leaves no room for interpretation.
“Fine.” I grumble. “May I go now?”
My mother’s gaze unfocuses slightly and her voice takes on a dream-like tone. “There is such darkness around each of you and so much darkness between you. It will either devour you both or unite you. It is still too soon to tell.” She blinks and her focus returns with a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. “You two may go now.”
I make my way to the door and shove it open, escaping into the busy hallway.
“What the hell was that at the end there?” Tyler snaps at me in a harsh whisper as we walk down the corridor. An uncomfortable silence from everyone nearby still follows us like a specter.
“That was my mother having a vision.” I admit. “Hers aren’t as concrete as mine. They’re also generally useless. If you couldn’t tell.”
“Great.” He mutters. “More psychics. My favorite.”
“Why are you upset? You are not the one that just got assigned babysitting duty.”
He does not respond, just continues to follow me looking rattled. He has been forced to face too much of his past and his inevitable future today. His eyes have the look of a cornered animal. I say no more as we walk through the last two corridors to reach my room.
Once there I am flooded with relief at being able to finally escape Tyler’s suffocating presence. Then as I start to open my door, he reaches around me to shove it shut before I can step through. He keeps his hand on the door over my shoulder, trapping me between his body and the rough hewn oak.
“Just so you know,” his face is unreadably neutral, “Everything last year was just more or less following orders. I don’t hold any grudge against you in particular. Hell, I’m almost grateful to you for making it so that I don’t have to answer to that crazy bitch any more. But the Hyde… He really hates you.”
“Am I supposed to believe that this is just plain old human Tyler talking to me now?” I refuse to shrink from his proximity.
He seems to consider something for a moment. “80/20 human.” He grins. “Like I said, it’s a sliding scale.”
“So you only want to kill me a little at the moment?” I scoff.
“Probably less than you want to kill me right now.” He quirks an eyebrow.
“Good to know where we stand.” I am unsettled by his candor, but am determined not to show it.
“See ya around, Addams.” He smiles then removes his blockade of my door and turns to walk away. Students, parents, and teachers in the hall part to give him space as his form recedes.
I turn back to my door and take a deep breath before opening it. I haven’t even been back at Nevermore Academy for an hour yet, and my entire world already feels turned upside down. So many things have changed. My mother is the new principal. Tyler is a Nevermore student now and he may actually be at more risk himself than he poses to others. I have experienced more emotions so far this day than I probably have in the rest of my life combined, and I am unsure which of them I can trust. All of this is nearly overwhelmingly foreign. But I look around my room and realize that not all change is negative. Enid sits at her computer with Thing gesticulating assertively on her desk. Ajax is sitting on the edge of her bed nearby. Xavier is leaning broodily against the wall next to the room’s large round window. Even Bianca is sitting in my chair, studiously reading from a text book from the Nightshade’s library, while Eugene is tentatively poking at the keys on my typewriter. Not long ago, this rag tag group’s presence would have been exceedingly annoying. But last semester, the fiery crucible of battle forged a bond between us. I am not alone any more. Which is a good thing if the past hour is any indication as to how the rest of this semester is going to go.
A manic buzzing unexpectedly sounds from my backpack, and I withdraw my seldom used phone. A text message from a blocked number appears. It is a picture of me and Tyler from earlier standing chest to chest and glaring murderously at each other. The text accompanying the picture reads, “If the Hyde doesn’t get you, I will.” The message is immediately followed by another cartoon of vague claws slicing full thickness through my caricature’s body from head to toe. At least the graphic quality has improved slightly.
A cursory evaluation of the picture the stalker has sent shows that it could only have been taken through the glass window leading to the balcony, likely with a telephoto lens. I walk toward the window. Xavier moves from his post near the frame as I approach and it allows me to force open the pane I use to access the balcony. I see no evidence that my stalker has been here, but just as I start to turn back to my room, a solitary enormous crow flies up and perches itself on the nearby railing. The corvid looks at me almost expectantly, caws at me, then cocks its head ever so slightly. I stare directly into the beady black eyes for a long moment, my head tilted enough to match the bird’s posture. We stand there with our eyes locked in a failed attempt at inter-species communication for half a minute before the bird caws at me again and flies off. I start to turn back toward my room and my waiting friends when my spine goes rigid and my head rocks back.
I am in the woods along the west edge of the campus at night. The blue grey filter over everything I can see confirms that I am having a vision. Except this is not a typical vision where I observe the scene from a third person vantage point. I am in the vision, inside my own body. Something is wrong with it. I feel it become sluggish as I attempt to run through the woods. Something is chasing me, but I do not see it. I am afraid, but my heart is not racing. In fact, it is slow. Far too slow, and still slowing down even further. I am gasping in air, but I still feel like I am suffocating. The edges of my vision are going dark. My heart beat is becoming erratic. I collapse to my knees then fall to the ground. I can’t see. I can’t hear. The only sensation is the ever slowing biphasic thudding of my heart in my chest. Lub Dub… Lub Dub… … Lub… Dub… … … Lub… … Dub… … … … … Lub… … … … … . I feel my heart stutter and fail. I feel myself start to fade into permanent blackness.
I wake up from the vision with a frantic gasp. There is a crowd gathered around me where I lay, sprawled haphazardly on the balcony floor. Xavier is cradling my head in his lap and Enid grips my clammy hand. Thing is pacing nervously off to my side. There is talking, so many voices, but nothing has come into focus yet. Other faces float in the background. They all want to know what I have seen in my vision. I am their leader, the one that can tell the future. They want answers.
I attempt to sit up and the group backs up slightly, giving me a small amount of space to breathe.
Enid’s voice breaks through the veil first, “Wednesday, you had another vision. What did you see? What happens?”
I give her the only answer I can manage, “I die.”