On the dorm roof of Ophelia Hall, the night hangs heavy under a bright, platinum full moon. A haunting string version of The Rolling Stones' "Paint it Black" threads through the air.
Wednesday stands small beneath a row of towering chimneys, her figure rigid and focused as she draws the bow across her cello with precise intensity. Thing sits on a stand nearby, turning the sheet music for her without interrupting the somber flow. Aleksander arrives silently by teleporting onto the roof, pausing to watch her play without a word.
When the last note lingers and fades, Wednesday stares out for a moment, lost in thought as the weight of recent events churns in her mind. Then she meets the sight of Thing's hand.
Suddenly, Enid's voice cuts through the tension, playful but curious, "How the hell did you get that oversized violin out the window?"Wednesday barely glances at her and replies dryly, "I had an extra hand." Thing waves sheepishly in response.Enid eyes Thing and asks, "Uhhh... where's the rest of him?"
Wednesday shrugs subtly. "One of the great Addams Family mysteries."
Then the distant howl of werewolves echoes from a nearby tower, sharp and threatening.
Wednesday tilts her head. "Why aren't you 'wolfing out'?"
Enid exhales, dropping her usual bright demeanor. "Because I can't."
She flexes her claws, then lets her hands fall. "That's all I got. My mom says some wolves are late bloomers, but..." She leans against the railing, vulnerability seeping through. "I've been to the best lycanthrologist—in Milwaukee, no less. She said there's a chance I'll never fully... you know."
Wednesday's voice is measured. "What happens then?"
Enid answers quietly, "I become a lone wolf."
Wednesday's tone turns flat, "Sounds perfect."
Enid's frustration rises as she rants, "Are you kidding? My life would be over! Kicked out of the family pack, no chance at a mate."
She looks away, chain of emotions breaking through her usual cheerfulness.Wednesday, ever blunt, counters, "I fail to see the problem."
Aleksander steps in, explaining, "Werewolves are mostly social creatures meant to live in packs. Lone wolves are rare, and even rarer by choice." He adds, "There are two types: cursed and non-cursed."
Wednesday guesses with calm certainty, "The cursed are cursed by magic. The non-cursed like Enid come from bloodlines."
Aleksander nods.
Enid sighs, "Yeah, and I could die alone."
Wednesday's deadpan reply: "We all die alone, Enid."
Enid frowns. "You really suck at cheering people up."
Her facade crumbles, and she buries her head, sobbing quietly. While Wednesday tried to console her in her own way, which is slightly succeeded and failed at the sametime.
Just then, Aleksander's phone buzzed sharply. He glanced down, then answered without hesitation. The expression on his face shifted—this was a new case demanding his attention.
Aleksander ended the call and tucked his phone away, a rare grin breaking across his face. "We have a new case," he announced, his voice steady but hinting at the promise of action.
Wednesday lifted her eyebrows, a flicker of interest crossing her usually impassive features. Enid, eyes wide, mirrored that curiosity, her tail flicking with excitement.
Enid's voice was hopeful as she asked, "Can I come?"
Wednesday's eyes narrowed, her disapproval clear as she crossed her arms. Aleksander shrugged at her, glancing toward Enid. "Come on, look at her—she needs some time out."Wednesday met Enid's wide, sparkling eyes and relented with a slight nod, her expression unchanging.
"What's the case?" Wednesday asked, stepping closer.
Aleksander pulled up an image on his phone and slid it toward her. "This is Mark Farrell, computer engineer. He lives in St. Louis, Missouri. " He explained evenly, "His wife Emily was stabbed to death. Security cameras caught him entering the premises, fingerprints on the knife and door matched perfectly."
[Guess who we are going to meet soon?]
He smiled faintly. "But here's the twist: Mark wasn't even home, he was at his brother's house. No witnesses, though—his brother's house was under renovation, no cameras. But a traffic camera on the road to his brother's place caught him heading there, and his phone location data confirmed it too."
"Shape-shifter," Wednesday stated flatly.
Aleksander grinned and nodded. "Exactly. Police didn't go there at first, but another similar murder hit weeks later. Victim had a rock-solid alibi—video proof he was with his sister."
Enid leaned in, voice hushed with thrill. "A shapeshifter serial killer."
Aleksander smiled, a spark of anticipation in his voice. "So, ready to head to St. Louis?"
Enid nodded eagerly. "I just need to grab some outdoor clothes, and I'm good to go." Then, a thoughtful pause. "Can we not use teleportation? Traveling feels... better somehow."
Aleksander shrugged, accepting her request with ease. Wednesday, though reluctant, decided to pack her things. Aleksander teleported home to fetch the car they'd need.
At his garage, Aleksander spotted the Koenigsegg Gemera. He took the keys with a smirk, slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine with a soft purr. As he drove away, he activated teleportation, the car shimmering with a rippling effect, and suddenly appeared outside Nevermore Academy.