Judas is the demon I cling to

by Slythery

Summary:

Wednesday Addams usually didn't visit the mortal plane, not since the Victorian age, so finding themselves in a modern world of monsters, Humans, or as they're called, Outcasts and Normies. They're certainly, curious.

Not truly of the modern sensibilities, but rather, the young wolf he finds amongst his first visit to the mortal plane in centuries.

Or, Wednesday Addams, Prince of Hell and of the circle of Wrath, has fallen in love with a mortal, an unshifted wolf by the name of Enid Sinclair.

(A rewritten and hopefully better version of my previous demon Wednesday Addams au concepts👀)

Notes:

• Inspired by An Incorrect Summons by Slythery (orphan_account)

Tw for blood, gore, biblical references, and swearing.

I came up with this idea while playing cult of the lamb 💀

Chapter 1: Authors Note

There isn't a chapter yet, but this serves as an author's note.

 

The plot will focus on Crackstone, a soul that never reaches hell. Upon discovering that those responsible for soul collection have allowed Crackstone to exist in limbo, cursed by a mortal descendant of the Addams clan, Wednesday sets out to the mortal plane to find him.

 

Naturally, things go awry when Wednesday encounters Enid Sinclair, who finds them when they first arrive in the mortal realm.

 

The werewolf is concerned for this stranger, who appears covered in blood. Unfamiliar with the world around him, Wednesday is taken home by Enid, who is unaware of their mission and his true nature.

 

This synopsis gives an overview of what the first chapter will entail. I also plan to explore some lore while examining the dynamic between Enid and her family, as well as Wednesday, who is quite taken with our oblivious wolf.

Chapter 2: Chapter 1

Wednesday Addams was a being of passion, a trait shared by all members of the illustrious House of Addams—a family steeped in age and renown.

 

The House of Addams was not just a clan; it was a powerful and ancient lineage with deep roots that intertwined with nearly every outcast, myth, and obscure culture within the mortal realm. Their influence was vast, echoing through history like a fading ghost.

 

As the centuries unfolded, the House of Addams vanished into the shadows of folklore, drifting through the pages of ancient texts and fading into the annals of history. Humanity gradually evolved, casting aside its primal fears of monsters, demons, and supernatural phenomena. 

 

Supernatural beings became part of daily life, coexisting harmoniously with humans and integrating into their societies. This shift marked the dawn of a new epoch, where the Outcasts and the Normies emerged, each navigating the boundaries of acceptance and rejection.

 

In this intricate web of coexistence, Wednesday Addams stood as the Prince of Hell and the revered Lord of the Addams clan. Known as the Punisher of Pride, their mere presence exuded an oppressive power that wormed its way into the very souls of those who crossed their path, embodying the compulsion of sin.

 

Sin itself was an intoxicating temptation, drawing individuals toward the seven deadly vices: Greed, Pride, Sloth, Lust, Envy, and Wrath. Every soul, regardless of its stature, was equally susceptible to the allure of sin, easily swayed to commit even the most trivial acts of selfishness. Demons thrived on the consumption of sin, flesh, and bone, yet their deepest cravings lay in embracing the very essence of their natures.

 

Within the labyrinthine rings of Hell, every demon possessed an intrinsic knowledge of the winding paths that crisscrossed the infernal landscape. The more powerful demons had a greater mastery over the manipulation of both mortals and the varying realms of the demonic. They occupied an array of positions—soul keeper, punisher, collector of debts—each role significant in maintaining the complex hierarchy of Hell, with all beneath the Lords of each distinct ring. Often, a member of the royal lineage would assume one of these responsibilities while simultaneously overseeing their clan and the sections of Hell associated with it.

 

However, there were instances when lower-ranking demons secured these positions yet failed to fulfill their duties effectively. When incompetency reigned, it became necessary to summon the royals to reclaim those roles—whether due to a demon's inability to adhere to their responsibilities or their growing apathy toward the task at hand.

 

At this moment, Wednesday Addams found themselves ensnared in such a predicament. Tasked with soulkeeper duties, he was responsible for meticulously combing through the historical records of Hell, cross-referencing to determine which souls had legitimately entered its fiery domain. 

 

The previous soulkeeper’s tenure had been marked by negligence, as a troubling number of souls remained unaccounted for in Hell’s archives, spanning eons and raising questions that demanded urgent answers.

 

It had been centuries since their last visit to the mortal world, as the humans called it, the Victorian era. 

 

The House of Addams had connections to descendants amongst the mortal plane, worshipers of their family’s clan, and powerful practitioners in their craft. 

 

At least, they did when Wednesday had last entered the mortal plane, when their kin Beelzebub of gluttony and envy, and arch angel Michael had taken to live a life within the mortal plane, as mortals, and had passed their duties onto another poor soul left to keep track of the Divine and the damned, leaving only their power in a family Heirloom, a silver pocket watch, engraved to depict the pair when they'd spoken their vows and had been wedded.

 

It had been their family that took the place of Lord Beelzebub and the previous Lords once they stepped down. Their father took over the title of Lord of Wrath, just as Wednesday was the Lord of Pride, and their mother was the Lord of Lust.

 

 

Pugsley had taken over as Lord of Gluttony, while even the youngest child, Pubert, had become Lord of Envy. 

 

Their House had taken titles by rite of combat, as each Lord may either gift said title when stepping down, or stay in said position for however long they can persist within hell, before eventually succumbing to either trial by combat from a challenger, or being killed by other means. 

 

For example, the previous Lord Wrath had died from mauling, her very people enacting a harsh attack upon the political capital of the Wrath ring, and had taken the throne by force, to choose a better candidate, Gomez Addams. 

 

Now, back to the soul tombs, they worked much like the legend of Diyu, from the human plane, each tomb would be written for each decade, short for demons and even some supernatural creatures, but humans, and even some of the most resilient outcasts, eventually make it to the realm of the fallen. 

 

For one such example, one name they were unsurprised to note wasn't in the book, Goody Addams. 

 

But that had answers, of course. Goody was one of the first of their descendants in the mortal realm, and she had sold her soul for vengeance, for damnation of a family line known as the Crackstones. 

 

Now, the witch rested among the rest of the souls who had foolishly made contracts with him, forced to watch him for the rest of their afterlife, and used to power their very magic against their own wills. There was no such thing as free will when it came to a contract with a demon lord. 

 

Wednesday made certain to ink into the tombs which souls were taken, either in a binding contract with himself, or other lords. 

 

It took multiple hours to mark the various tombs, but something they noticed was a missing name, which was supposed to be dead and in punishment. 

 

Joseph Crackstone. Born late 1500s - 1600s 

The deceased has not arrived for punishment, personal punishment for murder of multiple people, hate crimes, and religious zealotry.

 

A rogue soul, it seemed. 

 

They made note of it and continued to catalog the various names, Francoise Galphin, 12 March 1974 - 2020, in personal punishment for the murder of multiple people. 

 

Garret Gates, 1972 - 22 October 1990, deceased, in personal punishment for racism and xenophobia.

 

Wednesday rolled their eyes and closed them, resting for a moment to focus. 

 

Their priorities were finding the souls that had died, but weren't currently in punishment, and returning them to Hell. 

 

It meant leaving their station. 

 

It meant visiting the mortal realm. 

 

. 

Chapter 3: Chapter 2

With a summons for Thing, Wednesday moves from leaning over the various tombs upon their desk, opening a drawer to retrieve fresh parchment and an envelope. If he had to leave their position, it was best to leave with affairs in order and have their family be made aware of such routine shifts. 

 

They hated routines being shifted. It was bothersome.

 

 

Thing, a tiny creature crafted from various pieces of flesh, some demonic, some mortal, and some divine, stitched tightly together with tethered ropes enchanted to never break, lest he be inefficient as an assistant. 

 

Thing was a hand of sorts, he had bones and the nub of wrist that had once connected arm to hand, but the person it belonged to, nor the people the various other pieces belonged to, mattered. 

 

His nails were old and worn, peeling off the very skin like it was slowly pulled. It wasn't, but Thing often crawled along surfaces with his decaying nails.

 

The little cretin tapped his fingers against the wood in greeting, appearing from the bookshelf where his small napping space was located. 

 

Truthfully, Wednesday didn't think he even needed sleep, but the sentient hand slept anyway, because it was apparently unpleasant. 

 

Wednesday often didn't need sleep, or rather, he didn't sleep; it was easier in that method to keep track of his duties and hold better rein of the more unruly ones within the Pride ring and other districts of the realm. 

 

Even if they would prefer to not speak with their parents, given they too had their own duties, and they were dreadfully doting to the point of lunacy, it would be important to inform them, to request they keep watchful of their station, and at least of Thing, who would be staying within Hell to keep things in proper order. 

 

Theoretically, it seemed. 

 

So, he wrote a letter to each family member, parents, siblings, and even Grandmama and Fester, who themselves had duties, but would nonetheless be informed of their departure. 

 

Penning each of their titles upon the envelope, and folding each piece of parchment into the envelopes, the envelopes shut tightly and vanish into flames, being sent to each family member.

 

The Lord of Pride stands afterwards and regards the small stitched creature. 

 

“You will be staying here, to act in my stead and assist should my family members be insufficient at taking up my tasks. But you may come and find me amongst the mortal plane and inform me of being needed if it is a dire necessity. Understood?”

 

“Yes, but why are you going to the mortal realm?" Thing tapped his fingers, signing. 

 

Wednesday regarded him with annoyance, narrowed eyes glaring at the homunculus. He was a servant, yes, but he was still part of the family, similar to Lurch and their other servants. 

 

 

“Souls have been left free among the mortal realm, the previous Soulkeeper was very poor in their duties, and thus it is up to me to bring them to punishment.” 

 

“That's a skill issue.” Thing signed in return, hopping in delight and shaking with laughter at the Lord's confused expression. 

 

“I don't know what that means, nor do I care.” He mutters, turning from the hand and flicking a hand, magic lights up in their glove hand, as items begin to pick themselves up into the air, tombs of soulcounts mostly, clothes, weapons, the notebook of various human identities he'd worn over the centuries, since it was likely to be necessary again. 

 

He could say he was a descendant of the Wenroy as he had done time and time again, he summoned suitcases from the closet, which were old and bulky, steamer trunks, but were far lighter than they looked, given that demons were biologically extremely similar to vampires and werewolves, 

 

Yes, they had genuine forms, but many hid them amongst armors and glamours, either for battle or the comfort of their preferred form, as was Wednesday’s case.

 

As it were, he checked the luggage before having them vanish, pulled into the darkness of his shadows, the very entities used for travel, an intrinsic part of their magic, which was a variety of subjects, glamours, charms, curses, hexes, potions, even bardic, but that one was more so for enjoyment, and was something no one else could know. 

 

 

The Lord of Pride is already dressed for their work, in a blackened waistcoat suit and tie, gloves, dress shoes, and their hair is a short cut similar to his father's, but his lips and eyes are blackened with makeup. Lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara, a deep shade that had their gaunt features more noticeable, but they took more after their father in terms of physical appearance, gapped smile of fangs, and dark skin that had earned them multiple remarks and incidents in the past within the mortal realm. 

 

But it was something they couldn't change, so loath as he was to visit the mortal plane again, he had to; it was called by his bloodrite. As much as he would dislike being the ferry of wayward souls to punishment, it was now a part of their various obligations. 

 

So be it then. Splitting the veil is as easy as slicing their throat, and kneeling, letting the blood pool along the floor, and slowly, it begins to take shape, forming the necessary runes and sigils, drawing the proper tethers between, beyond, and before. Wednesday closes his eyes, the pain a searing and deliciously agonizing thing. 

 

He is still alive, still awake, but he is pulled into the depths and plunged into an unfamiliar world, rebuilt to seem as human as possible, hiding away any features of demonic nature, tail, claws, teeth, wings, eyes, they're agonizingly reversed and made to appear human by glamour alone, a false skin that locked away their power and their truest form. 

 

 

Their body is spasming in the cold air, and he can breathe, gasping past the very blood that had brought him into the mortal plane, onto earth and had locked away his very nature to keep themselves hidden, he is alive, body slowly beginning to heal but the blood is stuck to his form like dried herbs and tonic. They can see the stars in the night sky, hear foreign sounds that make them flinch. 

 

And then, a stranger appears before them, running into the alleyway they'd appeared in, a strange device in hand and colorful, unfamiliar clothes and features upon her person. She's talking, touching him, attempting to stop the blood. 

 

The blood had stopped long before she arrived, but something in his chest burned at the terrified expression upon her face. 

 

Wednesday attempts to soothe the stranger, she gasps and covers his mouth, shushing him in an almost mocking way. But they are tired, their bodies ache, and they need sustenance. He can barely stand, much less take down the stranger in this state, he's blinking at unfamiliar bright lights, everything is so much. 

 

“Divine.” He manages a gargled mutter before he can stop himself from passing out, as strategically foolish as it was, they were unable to stop it from occurring. 

Chapter 4: Chapter 3

Wednesday awakens in an unfamiliar home—a place where the sheets on the bed are made of colorful furs that are both hard on the eyes and irritating to the skin; a rash is likely if one lingers in such unfamiliar bedding.

 

The room is small and cramped, filled with vibrant decorations, twinkling lights, and photos adorning the walls.

 

He rises slowly, easing himself from the bed and steadying himself on shaky legs.

 

Ah yes, the Lord recalls why he spent so long avoiding visits to this realm. It is exhausting to maintain his appearance, to heal after transitioning from beyond the veil to the living world, and to keep himself strong enough to convincingly play the role of his descendant, Wenroy Addams, without being discovered.

 

Curiously, he examines the room, temporarily ignoring the hunger gnawing in his core. Instead, he focuses on his surroundings—particularly the smell of wet dog—and listens to the sounds echoing from the household.

 

By scent alone, he deduces that they are werewolves. But who was foolish enough to bring him into their pack’s home?

 

It feels as if he is violating werewolf customs, intruding merely by being present.

 

He notices the photos on the wall and studies the strange clothes he is wearing. Driven by curiosity, he drifts toward the wardrobe. It feels like a breach of privacy to look through someone else's belongings, but he continues undeterred.

 

They appear to be in an unfamiliar time; mortals have progressed far more than he initially thought.

 

He needs to learn everything he can about this new world to blend in and avoid suspicion. One cannot achieve that goal without knowledge of their environment.

 

The colorful garments make his eyes ache. He touches the fabrics with careful, gloved fingers, then stops as he notices his own clothes shifting, transforming to mimic the modern styles depicted in the photos. He closes the wardrobe softly and, upon noticing a mirror, approaches it, dismayed to see that the blood had long faded from his form, the dried remnants disappearing as he adjusts his attire to better fit into his surroundings.

 

He still seems slightly out of place; the waistcoat has become a vest over a red blazer, and he rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, adjusting his pants to more closely resemble the slim dress slacks in the photos. His pocket watch rests in his blazer pocket, a family keepsake passed down from the eldest child to the next in the clan.

 

Wenroy Addams the 14th, a descendant of the Old Addams clan, he always took the name for simplicity's sake, posing as a descendant of his previous guise in the mortal realm.

 

He will need a cover story—perhaps an attack, or someone staging an attempted mugging.

 

It might work if the werewolves aren’t particularly strong-willed, which meant they could be susceptible to charm speak—a magical manipulation of the mind similar to a siren’s song.

 

They pause at the sound of steps upon the stairs, quick, light, almost bouncing from step to step. 

 

He straightens and watches the knob twist, blade ready in case the pack considered them unwelcome, and—

 

Oh. 

 

The werewolf in front of them is the same stranger from the night before; she was taller than they were, hair styled short, blonde, blue, and pink. How she had managed that was unknown. 

 

Her eyes were a bright blue, and he was captivated by them. She brightened when she saw him, and something squirmed in his chest at the sight. 

 

He stared, mouth going dry, brain stuttering to a halt entirely all because of something as simple as her smile.

 

Oh, hell, he remembers what they'd said the night before, when first seeing the wolf, when his mind had been unfiltered, foolish, and when he'd first seen the love of their lives. 

 

“You're awake, that's wonderful! Are you alright? You were bleeding so much, I wanted to call an ambulance, but I saw you were healing too. Are you some type of outcast? Who are you?” She bounded to him like an excited dog, and while close contact with anyone outside the family would often bring violence, her presence was calming in a way they couldn't articulate. 

 

Their heart thumped erratically, and their brain slowly picked apart the rapid-fire questions. His facial expression remained unchanged, but he tucked the blade back into a pocket. 

 

“Yes, I'm perfectly adequate, uninjured now that I've rested. I am Wenroy Addams. Who exactly are you?” They attempt nonchalant indifference, but they can't stop staring. 

 

The wolf tilts her head in a way so undeniably similar to a dog, and Wednesday desperately attempts to calm his rising heart. 

 

“Addams? I've never heard that name before….” She trailed off, her tone indicating confusion, and Wednesday hummed in acknowledgement, unsurprised. 

 

“Oh, I'm Enid by the way! Enid Sinclair.” The wolf straightened up then, sticking her hand out to him with a big grin of fangs upon her face. 

 

Thing would've absolutely made fun of them for the way they shook, a barely imperceptible shutter as they took hold of their supposed saviour’s hand, and foolishly ran a thumb across her knuckles, before pressing a short kiss to them.

 

If that insolent hand were here he would likely say they were, what was it? Down bad? 

 

The wolf— Enid, Wednesday reminds himself, seemed surprised, but she is blushing, a beautiful pink hue to her face that Wednesday almost preens at, then she takes his hand again, pulling them out of the tiny room above the stairs, the tiny attic it had seemed, when she guides him down the stairs. 

 

“Do you have anyone to stay with? Like, family or something?” She asks it so casually, and Wednesday silently fumbles for an answer, a cover story, something to cling to so he would not be discovered, for if the divines knew he were among the mortal plane they would sooner kill him than ask his business within the realm. 

 

Divines were exceedingly protective of the mortal plane, given its existence as a neutral realm between the divine and demonic realms. It was often frowned upon to simply visit the mortal realm for pleasantries, given that if one had effective business, one had to do the necessary paperwork, and right now, on Wednesday, one simply didn't have the time for it, nor the time to wait for a proper approval or denial of the request. 

 

 

“No. I am the only remnant of my family, the others have been slain.” Their wording felt loose, weak, they were better at lying than that. But given who he was lying to, it was no surprise he wasn't in the proper state of mind to continue business. 

 

Enid seemed saddened by what he'd said, she frowned, still holding his hand, and very gently, she squeezed it. 

 

His heart lurched in his chest when she did that, but he tamped it down. Enid seemed slightly put off by his wording and speech patterns, but she didn't bring them up, didn't correct or ask about them, didn't ask about how he'd changed clothes so quickly. She seemed, accepting perhaps was the proper wording? 

 

Kind. He decided, was the best wording. 

 

“I want to introduce you to my parents, maybe if they like you, you can stay with us?” Enid smiled at him again and Wednesday felt their resolve melting. 

 

This silly wolf was going to be the death of him, that was absolutely certain. 

 

 

Wednesday nodded silently, walking alongside Enid down the stairs, slowly moving closer to the noise of the house. The House was small, sporting only two floors and an attic, where Enid stayed. 

 

The living room was rustic, filled with modern furniture he was only slightly familiar with. 

 

The stairs ended within a hallway, where the bathroom was located. In front of the stairs sat the dining and living rooms, a wide table with mismatched wooden chairs, and furniture with furs and blankets stacked upon them. The stench of dog made their noses twitch, disliking the scent. Notably, Enid was the only one within the house who didn't smell like that. 

 

“Hey, your guest is awake!” Wednesday immediately looked at who'd spoken, spotting a group of three boys, they looked Enid's age, similar features as well, they were sitting in the living room amongst the couches, one covered in a blanket, another sitting on the floor of the living room, the other sitting on the couch across from the other two, they were all watching that strange metal box, which Wednesday was very slightly surprised to see, moving pictures across its surface. They raise an eyebrow, considering the three boys. 

 

“These are my brothers. Ethan, Eric, and Alex.” Enid speaks in an almost resigned tone, pointing to each brother while speaking their names, Wednesday sees them perk up at their names, and something protective loomed over the Lord, but he didn't express it, staying silent. 

 

“My parents are prepping lunch, do you want anything?” She explains it with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, guiding them to the kitchen alcove within the dining room, the kitchen is small as well, packed with cook where and appliances that Wednesday wasn't familiar with, there was a small leather rack by the wall and a make shift station atop the cabinets, where a man was skinning an animal. 

 

Wednesday recognized the scent to be rabbit, a lean meat, but something that wasn't very filling. 

 

“Hey kid, did your guest feel alright enough to join us?” The man smiled warmly at the pair, and Wednesday felt slightly confused, this family was incredibly friendly, something they weren't used to. Slowly, he nods in answer. 

 

“Hey, Mom, hey, Dad. This is Wenroy Addams, and I was wondering if we could let them stay with us?” Enid smiled in an almost awkward manner, it was clearly forced. 

 

“Let them stay, Why?” From the sink, a woman stood cleaning the blood from a skinned veal. She wore flannels, as did the rest of the family it seemed, aside from Enid. 

 

“You know, taking in strays is not what we do around here.” She continues, not even glancing at the pair standing in the kitchen’s entrance. 

 

Wednesday bristles at that, but keeps silent. 

 

“Mom, please! They don't have any other place to go!” Enid is upset, the man casting a look over Wednesday, unsure if he believed it. 

 

“If necessary, I can pay for my boarding, should you prefer it.” Wednesday cut in, immediately noticing how the mother finally turned to look at them.

 

The mother zoned in immediately to Wednesday, and they stared right back, silently challenging the alpha in her own home without a care. After a moment, she turned back to the sink. 

 

“Deal. You can stay in the living room, Enid only has a month before college starts again, then you're out of here. Got it? Payment every week, either give it to me or Murray. Lunch will be ready in about 10 minutes, keep busy till I call you.”

 

“Very well, your hospitality will be remembered.” Wednesday agrees easily, shutting the conversation down and pulling Enid out of the kitchen, past the living room with the intention of stepping outside. 

Chapter 5: Chapter 4

Within the month that Wednesday spent in the Sinclair home, he discovered that the family wasn't as warm and welcoming as their home suggested. Which, wasn't very much of a surprise.

 

Enid Sinclair was the embodiment of the sun, radiating warmth and light. She was kinder than the rest of her family; her brothers teased and bullied her both physically and verbally, even with Wednesday nearby, dismissing it as playful fighting.

 

Murray Sinclair was quiet, always observant and aware of his family's actions, yet he never stood up to them.

 

Esther Sinclair, the matriarch of the family, was the worst of all. She was verbally and physically abusive, threatening to raise a hand against Enid for even the smallest slight, all because her daughter couldn’t shift into a wolf. It seemed that being able to shift was crucial to this family, determining Enid’s worth in their eyes.

 

Whenever they raised a hand, claw, or word against Enid, Wednesday intervened in an instant, effortlessly protecting her from harm.

 

Since Wednesday had arrived in the mortal realm, darkening the Sinclairs' doorstep and offering payment to the matriarch in cash—something easily attainable—they had acted as Enid's shield, never leaving her side during Wednesday's month-long stay in their San Francisco home.

 

The Sinclairs found themselves distracted from their responsibilities, with their thoughts tangled around Enid, unable to focus on anything else.

 

Wednesday and Enid spent multiple days together, visiting stores for clothes for Wednesday and a phone—whatever that was. They explored the town, visited the library, and took any excuse Enid provided to escape the house—whether it was trips to coffee shops, museums, or a day spent at Enid's favorite stores.

 

Enid owned a modern pink Jeep Wrangler, which Wednesday learned was different from the car they had used during their previous visit. Though they possessed a driver's license, it was nearly a millennium old and essentially useless now.

 

Eventually, their time together dwindled, and, in a moment of foolishness and infatuation, Wednesday asked Enid if he could attend college with her.

 

So here they were, filing an application and forging the necessary legal paperwork for one Wenroy Addams the Fourteenth.

 

Wednesday was aware of Nevermore Academy, thanks to their Aunt Larissa, a mortal shapeshifter with whom their parents had fallen in love. It was often frowned upon to have relationships with mortals, as the divines considered it improper. However, many demons didn’t truly care about the rules the divine realm attempted to dictate.

 

Naturally, Aunt Larissa was familiar with their human alias, so there was hope she would accept him into the academy. Since the application included their phone number and email address, it was likely that the headmistress would contact them regarding the application.

 

The time to attend Nevermore arrived, and when Wednesday learned that Enid planned to fly to the academy, he foolishly offered to take her to school himself.

 

“There’s no way you could take me across the country, Wenroy,” Enid replied, doubtfully.

 

Wordlessly, Wednesday's hand flared with magic, lifting Enid's packed luggage into the air before vanishing into the shadows—shifting, sentient creatures. 

 

Traveling wasn’t a true difficulty for them; while their bodies were mortal and could die like any other outcast, they were more comparable to a werewolf or vampire in physical endurance and biology.

 

As the magic extinguished, Wednesday offered a hand to Enid. Startled by the display of telekinesis, she fumbled, her voice caught in a gasp as the sentient shadows wrapped around Wednesday, pulling her into the shadows without warning.

 

They reappeared in the halls of Nevermore, standing in the office of Larissa Weems.

 

Enid stared, baffled, confused, and slightly terrified, while Wednesday couldn't help but smirk in delight.

 

Larissa Weems was sitting at her desk, an elegant eyebrow raised at the pair’s sudden appearance. 

 

“Wenroy Addams, Enid Sinclair, a surprise to see you here, I was expecting you both to arrive later on.” 

 

“Wait for me outside?” Wednesday can't help but laugh, dropping Enid's hand with a quick and gentle kiss to her knuckles. 

 

The wolf, still dazed, nods before she leaves the office, closing it behind her. 

 

Larissa knowingly smiles at him, clearly delighting in the sight of him becoming smitten with a mortal. 

 

“It's a pleasure to see you, Wenroy, ” she begins, flipping through a folder on her desk. She removes a dormitory key, a student ID, and a timetable sheet, passing them to Wednesday without touching him. They are thankful for that. 

 

“Thank you, Headmistress Weems.” They nod, attempting to stave off the embarrassment her knowing grin had spurred. 

 

“Of course, you'll be dorming with Enid Sinclair in Ophelia Hall, do let me know if you need anything. Your uniform is available for pick up at the admissions office, and Ms. Sinclair should be able to give you a tour of the campus as well.” Weems is warm to them, affectionate with the way she pats his gloved hands. Wednesday finds that they don't mind it. 

 

“Thank you, Headmistress, have a horrid day.” He says, tucking the key, and student ID into their vest pocket, holding the timetable and glancing at it as they stand and leave the room, joining Enid outside in the hall. 

 

“Shall we?” Wednesday asks, offering an arm to Enid. 

 

Slowly, she smiles and takes his arm, nodding. 

 

“We shall.” 

Chapter 6

Enid leads them to the Quad, which is the first actual space within the school. Along the way, she points out various rooms, hallways, trophy cases, and stairwells, each marked with a directional sign. 

 

The academy is large, housed in a rebuilt castle structure within a small city in Vermont called Jericho. 

 

Wednesday seems to enjoy the tour, listening to Enid and occasionally offering witty remarks. Enid is smiling, laughing, and joking as she shows them around the school, and Wednesday thinks her smile is beautiful. He would do anything to keep her smiling. 

 

He knows they are distracted and wasting time away from his duties as Lord, but he can't seem to care too much. 

 

The academy is intriguing, though the staff and students are not as much; they spend hours exploring nooks, shadows, hidden rooms, and various classrooms. Their curiosity about their new surroundings, along with Enid herself, keeps him occupied. 

 

Her friends are at least loyal; the vampire, Yoko, immediately spots them. There’s something slightly endearing about how the vampire tries to intimidate him. Naturally, they reach a begrudging peace agreement, since Enid is important to them both. 

 

Ajax, the Gorgon, might not seem very smart, but he is friendly—something Wednesday is not used to. It feels strange for mortals to be so welcoming and overly touchy. 

 

Divina, Yoko's girlfriend and a siren, doesn’t seem aware of their true nature, but she is uncomfortably friendly. It is odd that others, aside from Enid, are so quick to try to befriend him. 

 

Kent, Divina’s brother, is similar to Ajax: not very intelligent but very welcoming. 

 

Wednesday is unsure whether he should inform Enid about her friends' hidden communion. 

 

The Nightshades, a group of wealthy students, mostly use the hidden library to party. However, since the Nightshades seem to have been created by one of their family’s descendants, their behavior is somewhat offensive. The library is concealed beneath the Edgar Allan Poe statue, leading to a large hidden tomb filled with books, valuables, and even occult objects, which thankfully are stored in a vault beneath the Nightshade sigil on the stone floor, designed as a secret compartment that can only be unlocked by the blood of an Addams. 

 

Wednesday often navigates around the collective of partying young adults, unfazed by the loud music and the smell of poor-quality alcohol, visiting the vault only when the crypt is empty. 

 

The library has become one of his preferred hiding spots within the school, along with the dormitory he shares with Enid. 

 

The wolf is a considerate roommate and has agreed to share the room, keeping her belongings on her side while Wednesday respects the arrangement and does the same.

 

Occasionally, they share classes, but their subjects of study couldn't be more different. 

 

Enid studies the arts, of all things. Dance, music, art, while Wednesday studies alchemic science, anatomy, biology of the outcasts and normies. 

 

It seemed fitting given their work as the Pride Ring's greatest punisher. 

 

Often working in the forest surrounding the academy to hunt, or to explore the local wildlife. 

 

They'd accidentally stumbled upon the Hummers, an association of local biologists and entomologists. Which truthfully was incredibly fascinating, and one Member, Eugene, the only member, had gained a research partner, and a fellow Hummer. 

 

 

Wednesday spends hours doing work when there's time, both for the academy and the necessary paperwork for Hell. At night, he scours the academy and the land around it, attempting to find any piece of information about the missing souls. 

 

Yes, the demonic could sense sin, peer at the soul of a creature, but when a soul was left to wander, they were often rendered invisible, silent, as if they didn't exist in any plane. 

 

 

Wednesday wouldn't admit to anyone why he had decided to stay with Enid, nor transfer to Nevermore, but as embarrassing as it was, the student body had quickly come to notice their closeness with Enid, and that led to some problems.

 

Specifically, Students who attempted to dissuade him from staying so close to the “half wolf,” as Enid was known. 

 

It seemed that not only would they one day soon have to find some form of proposal, or way of explanation of their true intentions with Enid, but he would also need to help her shift. 

 

An interesting challenge.

 

The Lord had already made a deal with a mortal during this visit. Proposing another wouldn't be hard. 

 

They simply needed to stop being a coward and tell Enid the truth. 

Chapter 7

Wednesday doesn't keep track of time like the mortals do, only keeping track of the time by the lunar phase, they spend weeks repeating the cycle of the previous days, paperwork, classwork, researching whatever he can find about werewolves and even the Crackstones. 

 

There truthfully isn't much about the family, but the history of the town of Jericho seemed important.

 

Something nagged inside of their chest, writhing and hissing whenever they would walk upon Jericho’s soil, Goody was an unruly spirit, still so filled with rage even centuries after her death, and Wednesday feels tense, like a coiled spring, or perhaps a predator waiting to pounce onto prey.  

 

 

After a while, Enid begins to notice. 

 

Only because of Wednesday's self control slowly dripping away, like a water droplet falling onto a rock, slowly eroding the rock over time in the repetitive movements.

 

And the day comes when they snap, obsession of love and obsession of revenge overflowing in a furious wave of teeth and claws, soul pulled to hunt down and capture prey like a wolf would a rabbit, and composure gives in, as if a house of cards the careful control is lost, the harvest festival is a blur of colors and sounds, overstimulating In the way only a cacophony of souls can be. There are mortals everywhere, temptation in the air and upon the Lord's tongue, all the while attending patrons delve into actions of selfish desire. 

 

Gluttony the most prominent, but wrath and pride, greed and sloth, lust tickles at their nose and fills the neverending hunger, the acts of selfish folly are enough to distract them even more from their goal of the task, something wicked and wild, instincts taking over and causing the demon lord to vanish amongst the forest, Navigation by senses alone, he follows the scent of blood and comes to face an abomination of a creature, something made artificially by corrupting a young outcasts mind, and polluting their blood with toxins, manipulating flesh and body into something that was neither Wolf, siren, vampire, nor man or demon.

 

 It is crafted by blending the samples into poison and tying the young outcasts mind to a single person, a manipulator, a creator, the creature is mindless afterwards, only able to navigate the world by their master’s side and by whatever orders they are given. 

 

They are killers, abominations, but they are also victims, someone made into a monster against their will. 

 

 

The creature, the Hyde, is looming over a body, an ancient smell clinging to its gigantic body, one Wednesday only recognized by the familiar tugging instinct of Goody Addams' soul. He snarls, an inhuman thing that alludes to the truth of their nature, he is charging towards the creature with teeth bared and knives balanced between their fingers. 

 

This thing would not get away unpunished for its crime. 

 

The Hyde attempts to swipe at Wednesday with its claws, gnashing teeth in a growling display of violence. It does little to intimidate them, if that's what the creature is attempting. 

 

 

The creature can do little against silver blades that are plunged into flesh, thrown with accuracy into its limbs and one managing to land deep into its forehead. It sputters, not quite dead, but not quite alive either. 

 

Magic coats the creature's body like a blanket, one they recognize as the pungent rot of Crackstone’s magic. 

 

This creature, whoever it works for, is bound by bloodrite, either from a caster that is familiar with the Crackstone family's magic, or someone using magic to force the transformation in the first place. 

 

The monster is screeching, pained and clearly desperate to get away, it swings wildly and attempts to bite into flesh, yet somewhere deep inside something like pity curls at the display. 

 

If they had to sever the connection to the Hyde's master, then they would start by tracking whoever cast the incantation in the first place. 

 

Finally, the Lord stops fighting, caught in an almost awkward standstill as the demon and Hyde stare at each other. Then, the creature turns and runs deeper into the forest, leaving only their blackened blood and the body of a student as evidence of its existence. 

 

 

Wednesday looked into the fog, listening to the forest’s wildlife slowly come back to life, coming out of hiding from the feral monsters within. 

 

Curious, he kneels to the blackened blood, taking a sample of the blood with a summoned glass vial, and once they had enough in the vial, he dipped a finger into the remaining puddles and brought the finger to his lip. 

 

Tasting it, he kept note of its sourness, along with the smell of rot and acid. 

 

To any other entities, the blood would be corrosive, but to the Lord it was a sufficient dessert to a feast of blood and desire. For a Lord giving into their own temptations, was just as filling as a mortal’s most vile sin, it would keep them satisfied for the next day or two for the very least, then one would have to go hunting during the evenings. Which would only raise Enid's suspicions of him, for his scent always reeked of blood and ink and feathers. 

 

 

 

Still, Goody's soul is unsatisfied, angry, and Wednesday finds his own mind astray with the witch’s want of revenge, retribution. 

 

 

There are far too many distractions, but Wednesday finds he cannot be bothered to care, if only because of the wolf he spends his days with, and the curious boy they accompany in the forest, because Wednesday for once in their long life, has company. Company that isn't his doting family, for as much as he despises them all, even if he wouldn't express such, there is something Wednesday Addams Lord of Pride has never encountered before. 

 

Friends.

 

In seconds they arrive at Enid's side, appearing amongst the nightshades and their friends, having forgotten the few cuts of his outfit, but he is uninjured and he states as much to the collection of worried peers. 

 

If he were injured, it would've already healed, given his hunger was satisfied and that provided him with a body that immediately started working to properly support itself, to keep his magic stable and their own insatiable metabolism balanced, demons were biologically like vampires and werewolves, always hungry, always able to tap into their more inhuman form should the need genuinely arise, yet it is painful. 

 

Not just that, but their circadian rhythm correlated to the mortal nights, when in a realm that actually had perceptible time. There were multiple things, instincts, like werewolves were violent and similar to vampires, one may become rabid if starving and tasting some form of sin, even the scent of blood or desire was enough to make one become undignified, feral.

 

Demons also possessed agility and strength equal to that of a lycan or vampire.

 

If Wednesday did reveal their more demonic features, it would be like shining a spotlight onto themselves from the divine realm, a giant beacon saying, “Here I am!” 

 

Their outfit is streaked in bloody ribbons, and amongst the chaos of the forest, Wednesday hadn't realized, the others are quick to drag him to a secluded space amongst the festival,

 

Yoko is quick to let Wednesday use her cloak to cover entirely, the demon is appreciative, but says nothing, reducing the remains of their clothes to ash with a flame among their hands, somehow not affecting their gloves, nor the cloak that swallows them. 

 

 

 

“I can drive us back to the campus, and we can hang in the library?” Yoko offers with a grin, Bianca laughs beside her, but nods and pats Wednesday's shoulder for just a moment, wordlessly inviting him along. 

 

“Hell yeah! I'm tired anyway.” Ajax agrees, Xavier shrugs along and wraps and arm around Ajax’s shoulder, their collective of eight starts walking to the parking lot. 

 

Wednesday says nothing of the monster, nor of the body, and neither do the others. 

 

Truthfully, the Lord doesn't know why they chose to stay silent, but they don't even speak of it again, or the clothes, they pile into Yoko's car, a mini van that is entirely black, with shaded windows that block sunlight, Divina sits in the passenger seat, and Yoko takes the driver's seat. 

 

Enid is crammed into the back of the van with them, as is Eugene, but no one minds. Ajax, Kent, Xavier, and Bianca sit in the middle row, Bianca is bickering with Yoko about the music, a pleasant blasting of pop that Wednesday is unfamiliar with. They almost flinch as the vehicle starts and the music begins, and Enid wordlessly offers him a set of headphones. 

 

They're pink and bright, but they muffle the noise, skin peeling slowly around where the headphones touch the flesh, red and irritated, it is likely to fall from their bones should they stay amongst the colors, but he again, does not mind. It is unpleasant, as the rest of the night is spent amongst the young adults joking and laughing, playing movies in the nightshades library and drinking only slightly, Wednesday does not partake in the cheap alcohol, but Enid does, and she's slightly tipsy. All of them are somewhat inebriated, many of them asleep upon the floor or among couches. 

 

Wednesday and Yoko are the only ones to keep awake, the shorter of them choosing to read while Yoko watches them, after a few moments of sitting there she stands, walking fairly well for someone supposedly inebriated. 

 

She could certainly hold her liquor. 

 

Yoko disappears then, because reappearing with a large glass bottle that looked incredibly old. 

 

“Here, for you.” She says, returning to her seat and passing the bottle to Wednesday. 

 

Wednesday makes a noise, almost curious, they uncork the bottle with ease, the top is tricky because it hasn't been opened at all yet, having sat sealed. 

 

Wednesday unseals it, and takes a breath. 

 

Immediately instincts buzz and swarm, mind middled with the aroma of blood. 

 

“A Negative, blood wine?” there's a hint of displeased surprise in his murmured tone.

 

Yoko smirked, retreating to collect some glasses and quickly returning, passing one to Wednesday while keeping one for herself. 

 

“A special drink for a special guest, Addams.” 

 

Wednesday poured a cup for himself and Yoko, before corking the bottle and setting it on the side table between them. 

 

“So you can be smart, Tanaka.” He hums, taking a sip of the drink while he resumes his reading. 

 

Yoko Snickers and wordlessly begins drinking her own cup.