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Wednesday opens her eyes from within the summoning circle, scanning the dark room for any sign of Tyler’s spirit. With a frustrated yell, she grabs her dagger from the floor beside her and hurls it into the door. Ten spells. She’s tried ten different spells to summon Tyler since his death over a year ago and not a single one has worked. She was even desperate enough to ask her mother for help performing a séance over Parent’s Weekend. She thought it was working for a minute. She felt something, his presence perhaps, but in the end, the flames had burnt out and Tyler never showed.
It's not that she wants to see Tyler. She tells herself she doesn’t miss him, doesn’t mourn the loss of his blinding smile or crave his touch. She still visits his grave almost nightly, still cleans up the headstone someone continues to vandalize. She rationalizes that she does it as a reminder to herself not to trust anyone but herself, that she had allowed his seemingly innocent façade to fool her too easily. She won’t make that mistake again.
She pointedly ignores how her breath caught in her throat just last week when a picture of Tyler appeared randomly on one of Enid’s social media apps before Enid quickly swiped it away. She doesn’t acknowledge how it felt like her heart had been ripped open at the glimpse of his wide smile or the errant curl that always fell over his eye. The only emotions she feels toward Tyler are hate and rage. She can’t afford to allow herself to feel anything else.
Her eyes drift past the candles of the summoning circle to her desk where the last spell is hidden. The spell she promised herself she would only use as a last resort. With every summoning spell from her family’s extensive library failing, she no longer has a choice. Forcing herself up from her seated position on the floor, Wednesday retrieves Goody’s grimoire from where she last stashed it in the bottom draw of her desk. She fingers the pages along the top of the book, opening it to the dogeared page containing the spell she’s read countless times, eyes drop to the list of ingredients:
Bone of the Deceased
Dirt from the Grave
Blood of the Bloodline
Tears from the Grieved
Wednesday glares at the last ingredient on the list. It’s the only reason she hasn’t attempted Goody’s spell before now. Obtaining the other ingredients should be fairly simple, but the tears are going to be harder to come by. She has not talked to Sheriff Galpin since before his son died and she knows a request for a jar of his tears will be met with a harsh refusal. And while Enid mourns taking his life, she does not mourn Tyler in the way the spell requires. That leaves only herself and she has refused to cry over Tyler, not allowing it since that traitorous night in the cemetery in the rain. If she wants answers, if she wants to unload this burden of unanswered questions, she’ll have to admit she misses him and permits herself to grieve him.
Wednesday begins collecting the spell’s ingredients the next night, starting with the easiest to obtain: dirt of the grave and a bone of the deceased. She brings her gravedigging shovel with her to the cemetery on her nightly visit, being extra careful not to draw attention to herself as she begins digging up Tyler’s grave. It takes her a little over an hour to reach his casket and she pauses, inhaling deeply through her nose before she forces the lid open.
The stench of death hits her nostrils and for the first time in her life, she finds the smell unwelcoming. Wednesday freezes when her eyes land on Tyler’s face. Thanks to the embalming process, he still looks like himself even after a year underground. His cheeks are more hollow and his skin pulled tighter, but she can still make out all his features easily. She turns away from his face, ignoring the stabbing pain in her ribcage and focuses on his hand. Using the hatchet strapped to her waist, she separates his fingers and slices down, cutting through the bone of index finger easily. She places the severed finger in her pocket before climbing out of the grave and closing the casket without looking at Tyler’s corpse again. Mechanically she fills in the hole, scooping up a jarful of the dirt before she returns to Nevermore. Two ingredients down, two more to go.
Wednesday spends the next two weeks stalking Donovan Galpin, memorizing his schedule. She decides the best chance she has of obtaining his blood without being seen is on Friday evenings when he visits Tyler’s grave. She ropes Thing into helping her, forcing him to act as a distraction as she sneaks up on the sheriff from behind and tases him until he falls to the ground unconscious. Using her dagger, she slices open his palm and squeezes out enough blood to fill two small jars. The spell only requires a couple drops but Wednesday collects enough blood in case she needs to perform the spell more than once. She’s gone before the sheriff wakes, though she's considerate enough to tie a bandage around the gash before she disappeared.
With all but the last ingredient collected, all she has left to do is wait. Goody’s book states the spell must be performed within a circle of burning candles when the full moon is at its highest. If it works, Tyler's spirt should linger for a full hour. When the evening arrives, Wednesday is almost grateful that Enid will be gone for the night and there’s no chance of an interruption. Or Enid learning that she’s been trying to contact Tyler for months now.
Wednesday lights the candles and sits in the middle of the circle, her ingredients laid out in front of her. She picks up the three pieces of the finger bone first, now devoid of flesh after being soaked in acid for two weeks. She places them in a black silk cloth and sprinkles grave dirt on top. Next she dips her fingers in the jar of blood before anointing the bone.
Blowing out a breath of air, Wednesday brings the cloth up to her chin and closes her eyes. She forces herself to think about Tyler. She remembers the crushing feeling of betrayal after their kiss. She remembers the shattering anguish when Enid informed her of Tyler's death. She thinks of his funeral where she sat in the rain for hours silently staring at his tombstone. Wednesday focuses on the hollow piercing ache that’s been present in her heart for the last year. She allows herself to feel every emotion she’s shoved away for a year until a single tear falls down her cheek and drops onto the silk cloth.
Angerly she rubs her sleeve aggressively across her eyes to remove any further evidence of her tears before picking up Goody’s Book of Spells. She reads over the words on the page one final time, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before chanting the incantation in Latin. When she’s finished, she switches back to English, calling out to her ancestors.
“I call upon my bloodline. I call upon the power and strength of the Addams witches of the past. Seek out the soul of Tyler Galpin and deliver him to me.”
A cold gust of wind whips past her, ruffling her braids and flipping the pages of the book at her feet before it disappears.
“So, I see you finally found a spell strong enough to summon me.”
Wednesday’s eyes fly open, breath hitching at the sound of the voice she hasn’t heard in over a year. Her eyes take in his form. She expected him to be at least a little see through, perhaps flickering in and out of this plane, depending on the strength of the magic she called upon. But the spirit in front of her is solid, looking exactly like the Tyler she remembers. Instead of the suit she’s sure Tyler’s father undoubtedly dressed him in for his funeral, he’s wearing the typical layered shirts, plaid flannel poking out from underneath his brown jacket. He has his hands stuffed in his jean pockets, thumbs tucked into his belt loops while he watches her with hard, cold eyes.
“You knew?” She inquires, anger slithers up her spine with the realization that he’d been fighting her summons and was the reason every other spell she attempted failed.
“Kind of hard to ignore magic tugging on your soul.” His mouth contorts into a wicked smile and he leans down towards her to whisper in her ear. “That séance with your mother almost worked. I’m flattered you missed me so badly you actually ran to your mother for help.”
Wednesday growls, scrambling to her feet from her cross legged position on the floor. She crowds into his space, chest nearly bumping against his as she glares up at him. “I did not miss you!” She hisses.
He throws back his head as he laughs and Wednesday shoves at his chest in anger. Tyler catches her wrist with one hand, using his other to run his fingers down her jaw, his ghostly touch frigid against her already cool skin. “If you didn’t miss me, why are you always visiting my grave?” He taunts.
“You’ve been watching me.”
“Not much else to do.” He admits with a shrug. “I met some of your ancestors. They’re all intrigued by the hyde but hold a grudge against me for everything I did to you. They taught me you can still feel pain even in death.”
His cocky smile and the mocking tone angers her further and she jabs her finger into his chest. “You’re going to answer my questions.” She demands, her eyes hard as she glares up at him.
“I don’t think I will.” He replies as he backs up, eyes amused as he takes a seat on the floor. “In death, I’m free. I don’t have to follow anyone’s orders anymore. You can summon me here, but you can’t force me to answer your questions.”
“Did you know who I was when we met?” Wednesday barrels on, ignoring him. “Or were you genuinely trying to help me leave?”
Tyler doesn’t even bother looking at her, eyes focused on his leg as he fingers a hole in his pants.
“When did Laurel order you to get close to me? Before or after the Harvest Festival?” Tyler acts as if he doesn’t even hear her, and she lets out a growl in frustration. “Did she order you to pretend to have feelings for me?”
That finally gets Tyler’s attention, and he lifts his head, an infuriating smile stretched across his lips. He tilts his head, meeting her eyes before speaking. “That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it? Not knowing if my feelings were real?”
It’s too close to the truth and hearing Tyler mocking her sends a stab of pain to her heart. With a growl, she grabs the dagger from her boot and hurls it at him, lips twitching in satisfaction at his grunts when it embeds in his chest.
“Didn’t get your fill of torturing me when I was still alive?” He asks as he removes the dagger from his chest and twirls it between his fingers, blade devoid of blood.
“Did you even want to go to the Rave’N or were you just manipulating me?”
Every question she throws at him is met with silence or a taunting shrug until the candles start to flicker and they both know their time is almost up.
“Don’t summon me again, Wednesday.” Tyler orders and his voice is hard, mouth set in a firm line. She can almost believe he means it, that this version of him that she first met at the police station was the real Tyler. Brutal and ruthless, feasting on her pain and hurt pride when she realized he’d played her all along. She can almost believe it, if it wasn’t for his eyes. It’s quick, and if she hadn’t trained herself out of blinking, she would have missed the way his eyes softened at the edges as he looks at her one final time before a gust of wind extinguishes the candles and he fades away.
He spent the hour taunting and belittling her, breaking open the wound she thought she healed in her heart, but he was also hiding something. Something he doesn’t want her to know, and she vows to draw it out of him. She’s nothing if not determined. She’ll summon him again next month, and the month after, until she he finally confesses the truth.
“I call upon my bloodline. I call upon the power and strength of the Addams witches of the past. Seek out the soul of Tyler Galpin and deliver him to me.” Wednesday recites within the summoning circle the next month, eyes open this time so she sees as Tyler blinks into existence with a gust of cold air. He looks the same as last month and she feels a twinge in her heart at the brief glimpse of his gentle features before he hardens his eyes and twists his lips into a sneer.
“Never could follow directions, could you?” He smirks, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as he saunters closer to her. “Didn’t get enough of me last time?”
“Answer my questions or I’ll continue summoning you every month until you do.” She crosses her arms over her chest, taking a step back from him. She takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the rage and anguish warring inside of her.
“So, this is the spell that was finally strong enough to summon me?” He asks, ignoring her threat as if she’d never spoken, as he grabs Goody’s Book of Spells from the floor before she can stop him. His eyes scan the page, one eyebrow quirking up in interest before he raises his eyes from the page to meet hers.
“You desecrated my grave?”
“You were already starting to decay. It only took one swing of my hatchet to sever your finger.” She smiles in satisfaction as he scrunches his nose in disgust.
“Blood of the bloodline. Tears from the grieved.” He reads aloud as he returns to the spell. “Can’t image dad gave those to you willingly.”
“He didn’t.” Wednesday confirms, hoping he drops the subject. It’s not part of her plan to admit she supplied the tears for the spell.
“Blood would be easy enough to obtain.” He muses out loud. “But tears? How did you convince him to give you those. Unless….”
His eyes fly to hers in surprise and Wednesday bites down on the inside of her cheek when understanding flashes in his eyes.
“Oh, Wednesday.” He says patronizingly with a smug smile. “Did you cry for me?” He runs a finger under her eye, wiping away imaginary tears, laughing when she shoves him away.
She clenches her jaw in anger, but refuses to allow him to rile her up. She summoned him for a reason and he’s not going to allow him to distract her.
“When did Thornhill become your master?”
“No.” Tyler replies instead of an actual answer, settling himself down on the floor, Goody’s book laying over his crossed legs. “Have you tried any of these other spells? Look, this one causes spiders to crawl out of your eyes and mouth. Oh, and this one teaches you how to stop a man’s heart! I’m sure you can find use for that one.”
Wednesday growls, ripping the book from his hands and nearly tossing it into a row of candles in frustration. “When did you know I was part of Thornhill’s plan?”
Tyler shrugs without meeting her eyes, fiddling with a shoelace. He pointedly ignores all her questions, except to provide a sarcastic remark, until the wind blows and Tyler disappears with the candle flames. He leaves her alone in the dark with no answers, a burning rage, and a bleeding broken heart.
Wednesday rolls her eyes as Tyler makes another snarky reply to her question. It’s been six months since she first summoned him and she’s no closer to finding the answers she seeks. Her eyes linger on the vials outside the ring of candles. Her supply of Galpin blood is running low. She has maybe enough for one more summoning before she’ll need to obtain more. If it’s even worth it to obtain more. Tyler has been entirely unhelpful, refusing to answer questions, taunting her with biting comments and an infuriating smile. Maybe its time to admit defeat, to accept that Tyler is never going to provide her with the answers she needs.
Yet her heart aches at the thought of not seeing him next month, of never seeing him again. She finds his new personality vexing and some of his comments shoot through her like an arrow to the heart, ripping open a wound that never fully healed. But on occasion, sometimes for only a second, the boy she knew breaks through. He’ll look at her with fondness or gentle smile or she’ll surprise a laugh out of him, and she feels like she has her Tyler back again. It never lasts. Tyler always forces that side of himself away as soon as he realizes its surfaced, becoming cold and hard once more.
She is aware the smart decision is to let him go, to concede that the answers to her questions will never come. It’s the logical decision, but Wednesday has learned that when it comes to Tyler, she doesn’t always listen to logic. She knows she’s going to continue summoning Tyler. If this is the only way she gets to see him, she can deal with his irritating attitude. It’s worth the pain for the momentarily glimpses she gets of her Tyler.
Wednesday lets out a sigh, shoving away her emotional thoughts as she flips to the next page of Goody’s grimoire, searching for a spell that will help her in her quest for answers. Goody was a powerful witch. It’s not unthinkable that she would possess a truth spell powerful enough to work on the dead.
“Don’t summon me again, Wednesday.” Tyler says as their hour draws to a close.
Wednesday jolts at his words, eyes snapping up to examine his face. He’s said the same parting words for months, but this time his voice isn’t laced with anger and resentment. Its gentle and quiet, his eyes sad as he watches her. He looks and sounds like the Tyler she thought she knew and she can’t pass up the chance to question this version of him.
“Were your feelings for me real?”
“You won’t let it go, will you? No matter how harsh my words or how hard I try to push you away?” He snorts out a breath of air, shaking his head as he speaks. “I’m dead and you belong with the living. It doesn’t matter how I feel. You need to let me go.”
“Did you ever even care for me?” She asks again, voice barely above a whisper. She ignores the way her heart stutters in anticipation, how it clenches painfully within her chest.
Tyler smiles sadly as the candle flames begin to flicker, reaching a hand out to run his thumb gently down her jaw. His cold touch lingers as his image fades, leaving a ghostly impression on her skin. Her lip quivers and a single tear runs down her cheek as his whispered words echo throughout the room.
“More than you could ever know.”