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Wednesday and Xavier burst through the door together right before it swung closed, sweaty and covered in scrapes and grime. Kent rushed forward to help Xavier barricade them into the tight space of the storage room.
“What the hell happened to you two?” Bianca breathed out in a harsh whisper, grabbing Wednesday’s arm; her sleeve was damp with blood. Yoko inhaled abruptly and backed herself into a corner.
“We got caught in a Saw trap,” Xavier scoffed, leaning against a shelf to take some weight off his sprained ankle.
“Is that thing still out there?” Kent asked.
“Better question: Why is it after you?” Bianca interrupted, glancing between them. Xavier crossed his arms tightly over his bare chest, self-conscious.
Wednesday recklessly unwound her tie from the wound on her arm and threw it at Yoko; the vampire immediately began sucking on the fabric, letting out a moan of relief. “What are you implying?”
“There’s no need for implications, only fact: Sister Vespertine was a strict dorm mother who was staked to death by the school board after she murdered two students mid-coitus. She totally bypassed Ottinger when we lost him back there and came after us instead.” She gestured around. Yoko paused her slurping to quirk an eyebrow suggestively at their state of undress. Neither of them had their shoes or blazers on. Wednesday’s sweater vest was also missing. Xavier was down to his pants and little else.
He ruined things by attempting a surreptitious glance at Wednesday.
“Called it,” Kent muttered, smirking.
Wednesday scowled, but only clenched her fists. They all held their breath, straining to hear movement outside the barricaded door. She’d been spiraling ever since she realized her mistranslation error; ‘protection of the school’ turned out to be purely subjective.
Kent nudged Xavier affectionately in the ribs and gasped out a few words of praise. Wednesday rolled her eyes and kicked into his ankle, making him wince and lean into her. In the dim dustiness of the room, her normally pale cheeks flushed and she blinked, just once.
“How did that even start?” Bianca mused aloud.
It started after the first fencing practice of the competition season.
Xavier had won both of his boughts. Wednesday had been watching, and as spring bled into summer, the festering crush he had on her had hardened into a scab he was reluctant to pick at. He ripped off his mask and leaned against the wall with Kent to watch Bianca cross foils with one of the faceless twins.
The fencing hall didn’t have AC; he tilted his head back and scratched at his neck.
“I would like to see you wearing a heretic’s fork.” Wednesday’s normally even-tempered voice hitched a fraction. He looked over to see that she’d joined them. She was staring intently at him, dragging her gaze down. Kent nudged into his ribs, coughing none too subtly. “Your throat was made for it,” she added, practically purring.
“Do you have one on you?” he dared her.
*
Of course she did.
*
Wednesday’s fingers were cold as death where they brushed against his skin, securing the leather strap behind his head. Xavier felt every hair on his arms stand on end, as if electrified. The prongs were dulled, but they dug in immediately; there would be marks. Warmth pooled sharply into his lap.
“These were used to force confessions from blasphemers and traitors,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “I wonder what I could get you to say if I pressed hard enough.”
He made a strangled noise of disbelief. The prongs dug in.
As if he wouldn’t literally spill his guts for her if she asked. As if he would ever blaspheme against her – he could invoke her name for that. As if he would ever betray her, knowing how much it stung the other way around. She smirked in response, gathering what he was thinking as easily as if it were tangible enough to pluck.
“Tell me something about you I don’t know,” she prompted. “Something innocuous.”
“I’m slightly colorblind.” He had to crane his neck back when the prongs started to dig in under his chin.
Wednesday’s eyes sparkled. “Intriguing. Now, tell me something embarrassing.” She ran a finger along the line of his jaw.
She hadn’t bound his hands; he could have easily reached behind to undo the strap. “Why?” he squirmed, gripping the seat of his chair. His tight breaths echoed in the open atrium of the Nightshades library.
“Torture isn’t always about pain,” she murmured.
“I’m… kind of into this,” he confessed.
Wednesday went still. Her expression was unreadable. Xavier wished simultaneously that he could shove the words back down and that the fork would pierce through his skin and tear into his throat, destroy his vocal cords.
The newly unlocked kink was shameful, running through him like acid.
She reached behind his head and loosened the fastening.
He made the mistake of taking a deep breath even though his anxiety was spiking. This had been her idea, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was disgusted with him.
“Wednesday, I – “
The fork dropped to the floor.
Her mouth was unexpectedly warm; it took a second for the shock to settle in, for him to kiss back. She dug her thumbs in under his chin where the prongs had settled. When she pulled away, her eyes had softened. She looked dazed, as if her own scab had been torn off, gushing.
*
He was late to breakfast the next morning. He'd taken extra time rubbing in the ointment the nurse had given him to ward off infection.
Wednesday had left him abruptly the other day, without a word. When she came to sit next to him in class, as if nothing had transpired, he tamed his heart rate down. Even if it never happened again, if it was just a delusion, it was still his to keep.
The day progressed as normal. They sat together in science and in history. At lunch, she ignored everyone at the table. It was only when he wandered off to spend the rest of the day in his shed that he noticed the text message:
It is my understanding that there is a room under the history department where several instruments of torture are stored. According to the inventory, there are a number of devices that would inflict only mild to moderate pain.
He bit his lip, trying to summon the weirdly sweet taste she’d left behind.
is there a scavenger’s daughter?
*
Wednesday seemed more at ease as she twisted the iron frame down, compressing him. He took as much as he could before gasping out in surrender.
“Was that as pleasurable for you as it was for me?” she asked after.
He blushed. “I hope so.”
“I was rougher than I intended to be,” she said cautiously.
He could guess why. His own enthusiasm had nothing to do with the torture aspect; she could probably tell or just outright doubted his full consent.
“It felt good,” he assured her.
She blinked a rapid stutter. “Good,” she repeated softly.
*
The next day, he drew her as an Iron Apega and animated it during their psychometry lecture, provoking a rare smile.
*
Xavier got used to getting into bed, his limbs sore, and bruises blooming over his skin. He became a living canvas for Wednesday’s particular art style.
She blossomed, too. Gradually, she shifted from outright disdain for everyone around her to begrudging tolerance. She started to build onto her classmates’ theories in class rather than pick at them, debating ruthlessly. Teachers noticed. The new Ophelia Hall dorm mother beamed at her in the hallway and Wednesday didn’t growl under her breath in response.
At home, I tortured my brother frequently to relieve boredom. It was almost meditative.
Weirdly, she had begun to open up more over text, things he felt her hovering on the edge of saying whenever she released him.
it’s helping, then? what we’re doing?
The solemn grey ellipses popped up again and again before vanishing completely.
Later, as she followed him to his shed after classes, she showed him the widget that Pugsley had built into their text thread, a countdown to the end of term when she would be home again.
“He misses me waterboarding him.”
“Does it relieve boredom for your brother?” he asked.
“In a sense.” She stepped ahead to block him from reaching the chain securing the door. “I’ve been curious as to what you’re getting out of it.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
She pulled him down, winding her finger around the drawstring of his hoodie. “I’ve decided not to assume anything where you’re concerned,” she said softly, brushing a kiss over one of the fork scars under his chin. It was the sweetest she’d ever been to him, ever would be.
He pressed his palm to the door, shuddering. Last week, she’d clamped his kneecaps into a crushing frame. They felt like they could give in at any moment.
“I get your full focus.” Even if it was painful, the full torrent of her pouring into him felt almost cleansing.
Her gaze dropped to just above his sternum, where the other scars were hidden under his clothes. “It’s not too much?”
“No.” He couldn’t get enough. It was probably going to kill him.
She stared at him. Like that first time, he had the sense that he’d said something wrong. She nodded, just once.
*
She wasn’t at dinner.
As he walked back to his room, his phone buzzed in his pocket. A picture of the rack in the dungeons came up.
Midnight, Wednesday had texted under it.
It was the first time she had double texted, and the first time she’d sent him any sort of attachment.
*
Hours later, freshly showered and anxious, he pulled on his loosest and most comfortable jeans and a dark hoodie only flecked with paint. Considering Wednesday’s plans, he pulled his hair into a tight knot, low at the nape of his neck.
The rack hadn’t been in the best shape. It had been a project of hers to restore it when they uncovered it at the back of the room weeks ago. From the photo, it looked like she’d been able to replace the restraints.
It was easy enough to sneak out; even the dorm poltergeist took a break around midnight.
He entered the lower dungeon quietly, hoping to sneak up on her, but she sensed him immediately and was standing near the head of the device, hands delicately folded over the crank. He climbed onto the frame and stretched his arms over his head. The leather cuffs felt very secure. He felt held, weirdly. Wednesday started to pull, watching him intently. She was always careful to milk the most out of the experience as she could without doing serious damage.
The stretch felt brutal but good. His whole body screamed and he let out a grunt.
Wednesday smirked.
“You’re crying,” she observed.
He felt the tear roll down. “Don’t stop,” he whimpered. She pulled again.
He felt something pop and schooled his breathing. Wednesday set a pin in the crank to hold the position. “May I touch you?” she asked quietly.
“Wednesday, you have my full consent to do anything you want,” he choked out.
Tucking his chin in as tightly as he could, he watched as she ran her hand lightly over the tented rise of his pants, flicked the button open and snagged a finger in the teeth of the zipper. “I stole this from your bedside table earlier,” she said, holding up a small bottle. He was too strung out to be embarrassed. She had planned ahead for this. The cold, slick feeling of her hand on him immediately melted the pain away. He closed his eyes and fought his hips from involuntarily rolling.
When he was almost completely hard, she released him. Xavier felt another tear roll down the side of his face, hot and salty.
“Full consent?” she repeated, her pure monotone divulging nothing.
“Yes,” he breathed.
She hunched over a little, ducking her head. It was hard to tell what she was doing until she straightened again, holding her underwear in her hand. She folded and rolled it neatly and deliberately.
“Open,” she commanded.
He obeyed and she slipped the makeshift gag in. He sucked lightly at the saltiness of the fabric, thrilled at the dampness on his lower lip.
Wednesday was slight; she only just pressed him onto the table as she climbed over him, taking his cock in her hand again to tease the length of him along the heat between her thighs. He didn’t dare hope.
“I’m not giving myself to you,” she said. “I’m taking.” He moaned in response, eager. Her eyelids fluttered and she flicked her thumb over the head of his cock, milking a bead of precum.
Impatient as she was, she took a minute to hook her fingers upward, spreading and easing herself open.
She felt tight and warm, so unlike her that it wrenched another sob from his throat, muffled by the fabric in his mouth. Wednesday fixed her gaze on him as she sunk down, impaling herself again and again. The sensation of her throbbing around him was intense, heavenly. She reached for the crank and pulled it loose a notch. The circulation to his arms and legs was practically shot, but his core relaxed enough to let him shift his hips. She gasped as his movements fell into rhythm with hers. Her ragged breathing melted into soft, barely restrained moans. He came first, but she followed immediately after; he could tell that she was proud of herself for stubbornly holding on.
She pulled off of him slowly, letting the head linger as she spread his cum against her clit, eyelashes fluttering. Recognizing the sacrament of the moment, he closed his eyes and savored.
Her steps were shaky and weak when she let herself down, and it took a few tries to wrench the lever completely slack. Her fingers fumbled undoing the buckles on the cuffs. When his left hand was free, he carefully plucked the gag from his mouth and tucked it into the front pocket of his hoodie.
*
They didn’t normally walk back to the dorms together, but it was still and dark out and for once, they mutually walked down the same hallway, taking a longer route.
“Was it…” Xavier fought for his voice. “Was it good?”
She looked up at him. “You’ve yet to disappoint me,” she said finally, reaching up to press her fingers into the fading marks under his chin.
“What are you doing?”
The array of black pillar candles set out all over the floor burned hot. Wednesday walked in a deliberate pattern around them, around the tomb markers. He didn’t know how he knew to look for her here; it was far from their usual meeting spot as of late.
“It’s a protection ward,” she explained dryly. She continued her pacing, reciting the names of the dead below them – he wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or part of the enchantment. “Staff who died in service to the school, protecting its students,” she clarified, stopping right in front of him. He could feel her staring at the fading scars from the heretic’s fork.
The flames of the candles flickered out, the smoke pale blue.
“Enid is staying with Yoko and Divina tonight and my Uncle took Thing for a few days.”
It seemed obvious what she was implying, but his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah?”
*
They walked close together, though neither made a move to touch the other as they went up to her room. Wednesday let him in first and looked over her shoulder down the hallway, scowling at the gorgon girl who’d poked her head out across the hall.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she said once they were alone, awkwardly facing each other in the middle of the room.
“Wednesday, we don’t have to do anything,” he assured her, sucking in a smirk.
Her fists clenched at her sides. “I’m not just using you.”
“I don’t feel used,” he argued, as soothing as he dared. “Wednesday… you make me feel loved.” He was aware even as he said it how deranged it would sound to anyone else, knowing the context.
She beckoned him closer. “How do you always say what I want to hear?” she accused, stabbing at the knot of his tie, undoing it roughly and ripping at his shirt. The fork scars above his sternum were taking longer to heal. He could have sworn his heart stopped when she kissed them.
Screams broke out down the hallway.
Having grown up hearing every tone of scream from delight to terror, Wednesday knew that something was wrong. Dread crashed, cold, smothering the heat that had infected her. She wrapped Xavier’s tie around her wrist, intending to strangle who or whatever had interrupted them.
Xavier followed behind her, hastily fixing the buttons of his shirt.
This wasn’t supposed to be happening. The protection ward was meant to safeguard the school. The dread turned to self-doubt and she mentally arm-wrestled it into submission, unwilling to be wrong about anything.
Ophelia Hall’s new dorm mother, an elderly green witch, came running, too. “Miss Addams!” she scolded. “Boys aren’t allowed in the dorms, and especially not after dark!”
Xavier stuttered an apology, but Wednesday ignored her. A door burst open and a girl fell into the middle of the hallway, clutching her throat. Blood seeped out between her fingers. The gorgon girl who’d spotted them earlier chased her out of the room, attempting to help her.
“What happened?” Wednesday demanded, handing over Xavier’s tie to wrap around her neck.
“A ghost!” The girl’s face went ashen. “We were… we were in bed and it appeared and slashed her!”
The dorm mother helped the bleeding girl up. “Mr. Thorpe, go notify Principal Dort. Miss Addams, go back to your room. We’ll discuss suitor etiquette when I get back.”
Wednesday snorted under her breath. It was too late for that. Instead, she followed Xavier downstairs. She was reluctant to believe that this was her fault, but she had to go back to the memorial grounds to remember the names of the deceased staff whose spirits she’d harnessed for the barrier.
“Wednesday!” Enid emerged from Yoko’s room as they passed her floor. “What’s going on? Imelda just texted me saying there’s a bloodthirsty ghost on the loose.”
“Her girlfriend was attacked,” Xavier explained.
“This has you written all over it, Addams,” Yoko accused, adjusting her dark glasses.
Wednesday scowled. “Whether or not I was the cause is debatable, but I will put an end to it.”
*
She used her phone to snap pictures of the seven tombs she’d used to invoke the protection.
“That one was a Nightshade,” Yoko pointed helpfully. Divina picked melted black wax away from the plaque, revealing the familiar skull mark of their society. “There would be records about him in the library.”
“We might need backup,” Xavier suggested. She wanted to protest, but she needed time to find the right information. Divina volunteered herself to go find Bianca and skipped off, throwing a warning over her shoulder.
“Did Imelda say what the ghost looked like?” Wednesday asked Enid. “Loop me into that text chain.” She tactfully said nothing as her roommate exchanged amused glances with Xavier; she would normally refuse to acknowledge that technology had its uses.
goth milf called us sluts
Wednesday frowned.
“A hot older woman,” Enid clarified, sparing her the indignity of asking.
That didn’t help. The remaining names were both of women associated with Ophelia Hall in particular and since they weren’t Nightshades, their images weren’t published anywhere.
The record book in the Nightshades library listed all but two of the names.
“They must not have been initiates,” Xavier concluded.
“I could look on the online alumni registry!” Enid offered. “It’s a work in progress, but we might get lucky.” She pulled out her phone and held it up, wandering along the stacks of old tomes. “Do either of you have service down here?”
“I never do,” Xavier explained. “Wednesday’s phone is on my plan, too.” He blushed, uneasy about verbally establishing the connection. She checked to see how Enid would react, but the other girl was busy tapping and swiping at her phone.
Wednesday peered at the corner of her own screen. The signal was weak.
A commotion above them broke into her thoughts. She threw down the pile of books she’d been collecting and shoved Xavier back.
“Wednesday!” Eugene called down the hallway.
She relaxed, but only a fraction. “What are you doing down here?” She knew he was aware of the Nightshades, but to her knowledge, he didn’t know how to find the library.
Kent came up behind him, explaining but not easing her anxiety. More liabilities. “Bianca sent us. The ghost attacked another couple in her dorm, and the dorm parent there recognized it. They sent people to lock down the boys’ dorms.”
“Was the other victim in a similar state to the first?” The boys exchanged blank looks. Wednesday sighed. “Were they engaged in… intimate relations?”
Behind her, she could feel Xavier grinning. It was obvious what he was thinking. Not three days ago, she’d fucked him to tears, but she could barely articulate such ideas out loud to their peers because of her dignity and sense of propriety.
“Oh yeah, they were,” Kent confirmed, smug. Wednesday glared at him and he cleared his throat. “One of them is in critical condition.”
“I need to talk to Bianca’s dorm parent.”
“We can take a shortcut to the dorms this way,” Kent suggested, pushing a bookshelf to the side to reveal a well-lit stone hallway.
*
A few minutes later, it was obvious that they’d taken a wrong turn. “We’re supposed to be under the quad,” Kent said, “But I think we went towards the outside of the school.”
“We need to turn back.”
“If we took a wrong turn, it was on purpose,” Xavier said, running his hands distractedly through his hair. “The original Nightshades built confusion spells into the architecture of the school, especially considering their official headquarters.”
“So we’re lost?” Enid whined. Her nails sharpened and snagged in her fluffy pink sweater.
“We might eventually hit a main wall and be able to follow it.”
Wednesday groaned and walked away from the conversation.
“Wednesday!” Enid went after her and grabbed her arm. “We shouldn’t split up!”
“The dorms are north,” Eugene reasoned. “If we just go north…” He held his open palms over the cracked stone flooring. A few moments later, a beetle scurried up, then another and another. “This way,” he encouraged them. The others only hesitated a moment before following.
The hallway narrowed and narrowed until they hit a dead end.
“Try the doors!” Enid suggested, pulling at handles with all her strength. The first door that she managed to open was just a few squares of tile with a weird plaque in the center. Wednesday started to read it silently before she felt her tongue being sucked back into her throat. After that, they found a set of stairs that went steeply down. Two other doors in the dead end would not budge, but the final door gave easily. An odd, wailing screech behind them prompted them to push in and close the door behind them.
“Look, another door,” Kent rushed to the other side of the room. The beetles they’d been following earlier skittered between his feet and crawled under it.
“There’s no handle,” Eugene murmured, mystified.
“I think we have to unlock it,” Enid pointed to something protruding from the wall on either side of it. They looked like glass vials, the Nightshade crest etched onto them. Along the jamb, pointing into the stiles, were a series of spines, like the teeth of a saw, jagged. As soon as the werewolf said ‘unlock’, they began to spin, whirling up and down.
“It’s a blood lock,” Wednesday said, peering at the vials. Each demanded the same amount in pints of blood. She threw her blazer off and rolled up a sleeve.
Xavier pulled her back. “What the fuck are you doing.”
“You three are human,” Enid said, pushing Eugene toward them to prevent the argument that was bubbling up in Wednesday’s throat. She nodded at Kent and swallowed nervously. “I think it works better if we do this together.”
Wednesday dug her knuckles into Xavier’s side, where she knew he was still bruised. He let go of her reluctantly and they watched as the werewolf and the siren put their forearms to the spines.
It took several minutes, and Kent’s blood was surprisingly more viscous than she anticipated; it filled his vial faster. When he pulled away, she helped him use his tie and a handkerchief to make a tourniquet, but the bleeding stopped on its own and she made a mental note to research siren biology for her own curiosity. Enid, meanwhile, was getting weak, but the next full moon was due in two days, so she was able to make it. She didn’t need any first aid; Wednesday had seen her accidentally cut herself with craft scissors before and the skin knitted itself back. Xavier and Eugene flung one of her arms over each of their shoulders and held her up, walking her through the door.
They found themselves in a hallway almost identical to the one they’d just left, only mirrored.
The beetles were nowhere to be seen, and nothing came when Eugene tried.
*
Wednesday lost track of time as they tried to orient themselves back north, but eventually, Enid cried out, “I’ve got a signal!” She pulled out her phone, which had sung out a distinctive chime. “Shit. One of the victims of the second attack was taken to the hospital. He’s in bad shape.” She grimaced. “Bianca says the ghost looked like a former vampire dorm mom.” She showed Wednesday the text message. Her blood ran cold. Not only were they dealing with a ghost, but it was a vampire. They weren’t easy to kill.
“Your blood,” she warned her friend, but it was too late.
The wailing screech they’d heard earlier was back, and louder. IMPURITY. SINFUL. YOU WILL PAY FOR THE DISRESPECT OF YOUR BODIES.
The ghost was angular, wispy, and dark. In a moment of panic, Wednesday thought she recognized her mother in the vampire’s features. Xavier dropped Enid’s arm and dove to shield her; she took his hand and ran. Kent sprinted ahead of them, but she didn’t realize until they’d found a flight of stairs and raced through the door at the top that her roommate and clubmate were no longer with them.
“I won’t apologize for prioritizing you,” Xavier gasped when she dug into his ribs again, frustrated. “And she’s right behind us.”
“I think I recognize this hallway,” Kent supplied helpfully.
“No, you don’t,” Xavier argued. Wednesday was inclined to agree. She was prepared to go in the opposite direction that he suggested.
The wails increased behind them, so they chose a direction from the stair landing, following what looked like more modern lighting in the wall sconces.
There was only one set of doors at the end of the hall and when they closed it behind them, the sounds from outside stopped immediately. There was a sort of seal around the door. The exit on the other side had two heavy handles and no locks, but as Wednesday crossed the room to it, running her hands along the series of levers positioned in rows along the wall, she became aware of a hissing, and a faint smell made her calp her hand over her mouth.
She looked over at Xavier and noticed that he, too, was beginning to feel the effects. Kent was on the floor, scratching at his gills, which were flapping. Xavier started coughing, and the room gradually became hazy.
“The levers,” he rasped. They started pulling at them, but most of them didn’t budge. Some of them were encased in glass. Wednesday punched through one, but when she pulled, it did nothing. She crawled over to Kent to make sure he was still breathing.
“Xavier,” she said dizzily. “Wait.” Some of the levers had long handles, some short. Morse code. She scanned the rows. There. She found the one that would mark the end of the password breathe and punched through the glass again. It took a few strikes, her bloody knuckles slipping. Xavier winced. The glass ripped into her arm, but when she pulled, the other door opened, and a rush of fresh air filled the space.
Together, they dragged Kent out.
“She’s going to find us again because of the blood,” Xavier wheezed, spreading his friend out on his back and started opening his gills, pumping his hands over his chest. She pulled her tie off and wrapped it around; thankfully the cuts were shallow. She wrapped her sweater vest around it. Kent came to and started coughing, expelling a thin trail of mucus and blood.
Enid’s phone chiming startled her.
Sister Vespertine
Wednesday frowned at it and tried to respond, but the signal cut out again, tagging her question with a red exclamation mark.
“Do you recognize that name?” she showed the screen to Xavier.
He shook his head. “I wish Bianca had given more information.”
They listened intently for wails as they proceeded, looking for signage that would indicate what part of the school they were under. As the rounded a corner under what Wednesday was sure was the kitchens from the smells leaking down, they heard footsteps. Knowing it couldn’t be a ghost, she sprinted forward, hoping that Enid and Eugene had found them and were safe.
Almost better, it was an adult.
“Dr. Marigold sent me to look for you,” Coach Vlad panted. “She didn’t find you back in your room, Wednesday. Bianca told me where to look.”
“Is she with you?”
“We got separated. The hallway was very dark.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I know you mean well, but this is dangerous. There are some security measures down here that students don’t know about. Protections to keep the citizens of Jericho out.” She wondered what purpose the gas chamber was meant to serve.
Xavier came up behind them with Kent leaning on him.
“There is a maintenance hallway near here that leads up to the kitchens,” Coach pointed. “I’ll get you out first.” Wednesday was reluctant to follow, but Xavier reasoned that maybe once they were out, they could text Bianca again. He transferred his friend’s weight over to their coach and offered her his arm, tenderly pressing his palm to the deepest cut.
“You need medical attention, too,” he chided.
She fixed her eye on the fork scars under his chin and let him lead her. It was no small thing.
SLUTS. IMPURE RUINERS OF INNOCENCE. YOUR BLOOD IS TAINTED.
“Run!” Xavier pulled at her.
The ghost cut them off, looming over them. This time, Wednesday was sure of it. The specter had her directly in its sight.
YOU WILL PAY FOR THE DISRESPECT OF YOUR BODIES.
They scrambled, but not before Lady Vespertine screeched and plunged herself directly into Coach Vlad, throwing him against the wall.
“Shit!” Kent kicked himself away as the man clumsily tried to keep his hold on him, bolting. Xavier made to run after him, but Wednesday tugged him back. “We’d be smarter to split its direction,” she advised.
“But – “
“I won’t apologize for prioritizing you,” she challenged. They ran in the other direction.
*
“I think I know where we are.”
“Are you sure?”
He opened a door. “The Nightshades armory is on the other side of this set of rooms.” He grimaced. “Bad news, though. We’re on the other side of where we were trying to go.”
“Is there any good news?” she groused, bitter with herself for wanting it. Xavier made her want things. Wanting him had led to this mess.
“We’re close to the infirmary,” he promised, sounding relieved.
She tried the phone again, thankful that Enid had trusted her with the passcode. It had been the only blackmail Wednesday demanded the night she came back to their room without her underwear, reeking of sex.
Mercifully, there were two bars. She stabbed at the screen to send her original question back through, letting her thumb hover over the screen. “Let’s wait a minute,” she whispered. Xavier pressed her back to the wall and trapped her in the frame of his arms, looking furtively around. Wednesday swallowed thickly and kept her eyes on the screen.
The smell of him reminded her of the rack.
In another act of mercy, the phone chimed.
Ophelia Hall Dorm Mother 1932-1985. v strict, pious. Where are u? safe? Weds and X?
It occurred to her that Bianca didn’t know that she was in possession of Enid’s phone. Which meant that her roommate and Eugene were still on their own.
This is Wednesday. Xavier and I are safe, but we lost Kent. Coach has been possessed. She texted back. The grey ellipses came up and then the screen went black.
She cursed and shoved it into her pocket with her own phone, still without signal and running dangerously low on battery.
They head footfalls again, heavy.
“This way,” Xavier peeled himself away from her side and ducked down a narrow passage. “I know it’s around here somewhere.”
“You’re lost,” she deadpanned.
“I don’t remember exactly where the armory is, just that it’s around here,” he snapped. “Sorry,” he muttered after. “I hate seeing you hurt.”
“I’m not in any pain.” But that swooping buzz that filled her lungs whenever she breathed him in was back. It was worse than painful. They were in danger, but her heart was singing because at least Xavier was near her and safe.
“Still.” He picked a door at random. “I’m the one that signed up for bodily harm, not you.”
She was relieved to see that there were a few weapons scattered about. “What a pitiful armory,” she remarked. Xavier bent down and sorted through them.
“We might want to arm ourselves. I don’t want to hurt Coach if we see him, but if I could knock him out...” He weighed a mace in his hand, clearly debating if it would be overkill or just enough.
The door, heavy to open, slid closed behind them and the overhead lights suddenly flickered on in full force. The dark streaks in the floor stood out, less like rust and more like dried blood. Wednesday looked around the wide room for an egress and realized there was none. The door they’d used to come in has no protruding hinges.
A very low vibration thrummed up through her feet. “Xavier.” The left wall jerked.
“Fuck.”
Wednesday looked up; almost dead center in the ceiling, there was an air vent. The right wall jerked and started to close in. “We need to slow it down.” She took the mace from his hand and jammed it into the half-inch space under the wall. He went back to the scraps and shoved things under the other side. Judging by evidence left behind, the room hadn’t been used in maybe a decade. She could hear the gears behind the walls grinding. And then the oddly textured tiles flexed out, creating thick spikes. Wednesday didn’t dare touch them to test if they were sharp, but she could tell by their placement that if they couldn’t make them stop, they’d be crushed and pierced evenly through.
Together, they found every last scrap, every arrow and dull knife, to slide under. A few caught and halted the progress long enough for Xavier to hoist her on his shoulders so that she could pick at the fasteners that held the air vent, but not for long. He eventually had to put her down when she’d managed to undo one screw with her pocketknife. They had nothing else to surrender.
“Take off your clothes,” she instructed, kneeling to untie her shoes. Shoving the thick leather platform boots in by their cuffs did significant damage. She shoved her socks in, too, then her sweater vest, thick with blood still. She started to shakily undo her blouse buttons, but Xavier stopped her. He had a lot more to shed. His shoes, then his hoodie and blazer and shirt clogged the walls to a complete standstill. They took a breath; less than five feet of narrow space was still theirs.
Xavier bent over. “You can probably pull that whole corner free now.”
She shook her head. “You have to go up first.”
“Wednesday.”
“I’m not strong enough to pull you up,” she stuttered wildly.
He touched wrapped one of her braids around his finger and kissed it. “Okay,” he breathed. “Help me.”
Bracing himself barefoot onto one of the spikes, she anchored him by the back of his thighs. He grabbed the corner of the vent and then threw himself back to the floor. The grate clanged loudly, and he laughed, shocked and relieved before climbing up again, almost slipping. The shaft of an arrow caught the grate and the wall shuddered. “Xavier!”
He clambered up into the shaft and stuck his arms down. Wednesday had to jump, barely locking her grip on him, but he pulled her up easily, gritting his teeth as his skin grated against the inside of the vent. There wasn’t enough space for her to press herself against him and be held, even though she desperately wanted it, so she settled for clasping his hands in hers while they felt the room close under them.
*
When she came to, Xavier was carrying her upstairs.
“I swear I know where we are now,” he said.
“Put me down.”
He did so carefully, and it was only after a few paces that she noticed he was limping.
“I twisted it getting us out of there.” She vaguely remembered falling out of the ceiling, him breaking her fall.
“I passed out.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“You said something. Just before I lost consciousness.”
He turned away from her, closed off. “We’re close to the dorms now.”
“Xavier.”
He wound her braid around his finger again. “I love you.”
Her arm was infected. That was probably it. She felt like she was on fire. She’d known, of course. There was no way to surrender your body to a person, to welcome their full self even when it was pure pain and torment, without love. She had been doubtful that anyone would thrive under her particular brand of affection. Back home she had a little plot of land dedicated to every pet she’d crushed with her attentions and she still had several of her childhood toys, worn down and battered beyond recognition.
Xavier soaked her up. His heart was bottomless.
“Wednesday!”
The shout, muffled, came from up ahead.
She grabbed Xavier’s hand and pulled him along, rounding the corner. “I know where we are,” she gasped.
“Addams!” Yoko was suddenly there, beckoning them. “We’re hiding in here!”
“Okay, so obviously we need to perform an exorcism.”
“Luckily we have all the supplies we could ask for here,” Wednesday added, scanning the shelves and picking out a carton of salt, matches, and a bottle of a foul-smelling oil. She was glad now that she’d saved her phone battery; she had an exorcism incantation saved in her notes app. “The only thing we need to figure out is bait.” The room went silent. “What,” she snapped.
Yoko wiped a bit of blood from the corner of her mouth, stuffing the bloody tie in her pocket for later. “If we’re trying to bait a prudish trigger-happy Lady Dimitriescu lookalike, the best bait would be a horny couple. A little action would definitely set her radar off.”
Kent leered between her and Xavier. Bianca smirked. “I’m sure she’s not picky. Any two of us could provide a distraction.” Without thinking, Wednesday shifted herself between Xavier and the siren. Bianca’s smirk widened, her inhuman eyes glinting in the dimness of the room. “It’s settled, then.”
*
No one had Eugene’s contact information, but as soon as they were back in the library, Kent offered to add the number to his phone and texted, asking after him and Enid. Wednesday was relieved when her friend texted right back, saying they’d found a way up to the dorms and were with Dr. Marigold and Principal Dort. Most of the student body was accounted for and Imelda’s girlfriend was stable. A few more students had been attacked, most of them mid-foreplay.
Wednesday glanced over at Xavier. He hadn’t protested being volunteered as bait, but he seemed pensive as they laid the salt and burned the oil in runes over the floor.
Once it was all set, the others retreated further away, covering any angle.
Once again, she stood facing Xavier, awkwardly aware of herself. It felt like forever ago that they stood like this in her room and he’d promised her that they didn’t have to do anything. It had only been a few hours.
“I don’t think they get it,” he said quietly. “This… really isn’t us, is it?” She nodded, relaxing a fraction. It was gratifying to know that it wasn’t an act, coming from him. Xavier really did prefer being intimate with her under the terms she was most comfortable with. She gripped his bicep and kissed the fork scars on his chest again. He rested his chin against the part of her hair.
“I’d like to kiss you, though,” he confessed.
She bit her lip. Kissing Xavier for the first time had been violent on her psyche, ripping her heart inside out. She’d been flustered for hours after.
I would like to see you wearing a heretic’s fork. Your throat was made for it.
Do you have one on you?
She’d been shocked at his openness. The way he’d taken the torture had made her blood stir; she couldn’t help rewarding him with a kiss. She hadn’t expected the emotional torture that came after, the wanting. She wanted the torture to be painful and memorable but not damaging. She wanted Xavier to keep coming back for more.
Barefoot, he was so much taller than her, so they knelt on the cold marble ground. The first time they’d kissed, he hadn’t touched her, even though he could have. She reached for his hair, pulling roughly. He exhaled a breathy laugh against her lips, steadying her with his hands splayed across the small of her back.
“I wouldn’t mind dying like this.”
She kissed the words away.
When the shrieks started up, she waited until the last minute.
When Coach Vlad’s body crossed the salt line, he dropped and Sister Vespertine’s spirit writhed in agony, the oil sigils glowing. Wednesday stood shakily and joined her voice to Bianca’s and Yoko’s, chanting the exorcism. She had sent instructions to Divina and Enid to break the protection ward, but it took a while for the spirit to weaken and finally dissipate to a bright scarlet ectoplasm.
Wednesday’s arm didn’t need stitches and thankfully, Xavier’s ankle wasn’t broken, just badly sprained. The nurse expressed concern about the array of bruises and scars, but Bianca intervened, explaining the security measures under the school, lacing her voice with a bit of song. In the end, his dad wasn’t informed and they all walked out together.
“This,” Bianca gestured between them, “It’s consensual, right?”
“Fully,” Xavier agreed, touched that his ex cared, even though he knew that they were more than amicable, now.
The siren sighed. “Fine.” She glanced down at Wednesday. “Can I make a suggestion?” Wednesday glowered but jerked a minute nod. She was obviously indebted. “Tell the truth. Why did you invoke the protection ward?” the force of the siren song hit unexpectedly.
“Xavier is staying on campus for the summer,” Wednesday answered automatically.
He smiled softly at her, heart thudding.
“Just take your boyfriend home with you, Addams,” Bianca snarked, exasperated.
*
“It’s not a bad idea,” she said later after they’d checked in on the student still in critical condition.
“Wednesday.”
“My parents will adore you,” she sneered. “It will make my skin crawl when they insist on you calling them mother and father.” She flicked her eyes skyward.
He took her hand. “My dad didn’t even pretend to be disappointed when I mentioned that I was thinking of staying.”
She kissed the knuckle that was still slightly tender from her thumb screws. “My playroom at home is not as well furnished as our sanctuary here, but I may already have some ideas. I have a choke pear that you could use on me," she tempted.
He caught her lips against his, lightly biting down. “I’ll start packing.”