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Wednesday could hear her heartbeat racing in her ears as her legs carried her, aimlessly through the woods where she knew Tyler would be.
She was hardly able to escape Laurel's crypt, her saving grace being Goody's sacrifice in order to stop the bleeding of her wound, healing her almost instantly. Her eyes were darting back and forth, the damp warmth of blood still sticky against her temple, vigilant of the Hyde and where he might appear. She spun around when she heard the crunch of thick boots on the dried plain surrounding her. And there he was.
Tyler. The Hyde. The shy, awkward barista boy she had met at the Weathervane not long before that. Although if anybody had asked her, she would say it felt like a lifetime ago. Her heart slammed against her ribcage as her eyes glanced over the boy in front of her. His shaggy brown curls and that stupid flannel he would sport as if it were a tattoo he couldn't get rid of. The same boy she had known, or at least thought she had, recognizable but imperceptible all at once.
His dark brown eyes were no longer the inviting, truffle-colored irises that had won over her black heart. They were muted, soulless, and full of loathing. The very look sent a chill up her spine that she would never dare admit to. She took a step back as her eyed her, menacingly. "Laurel said you were dead."
Wednesday held back a scoff, the fire of betrayal reigniting inside of her like a match. "I'm feeling much better now."
Her eyes ghosted over his face, and she internally damned herself as her gaze lingered on his lips longer than it should have. The air around them was thick with bitter tension, hostility, and unacknowledged pain. Tyler's eyes had somehow managed to darken even more as he took a few steps closer to the girl in black. "You're like a cockroach."
At these words, Wednesday's cold heart skipped a beat, and she bit back the ghost of a smile from dancing along her pink lips. "Please, flattery will get you nowhere."
Tyler scowled, grabbing the collar of Wednesday's Nevermore uniform as he tugged her closer, staring daggers into her soul. The closeness was almost enough to give Wednesday a sense of brain fog, and she chastised herself for feeling so...distracted.
It wasn't like her, and anybody who knew her could attest to that fact. She had always been alert, keen, and never caught off guard. It's what made Wednesday so uniquely her, and unparalleled to her peers. She could not seem to identify, or admit, what it was about this boy that had her so bent out of shape.
Was it love? Of course not. He betrayed her. He lost the right to her heart the moment she had that vision after their first kiss. Him hovering over Doctor Kinbott's slashed, broken body. Her eyes wide like saucers, paralyzed with fear. Crimson red coating his mouth and neck as he panted like the beast that he was. The monster he was. Logically, Wednesday was more than capable enough to reason one simple fact to herself: that the version of Tyler she once knew was an illusion. The one who spent an entire week crafting a birthday coffee she didn't even drink, the one who took her on a date to watch that insufferably colorful movie she had nightmares about for a week after the fact...was a lie. It was just the facade he put up in order to portray the sense of naivety and innocence that she had stupidly fallen for.
He had tricked her. But as much as she hated him for doing so, she hated herself even more for falling into his trap.
For being so gullible.
But now as she looked up at him, she felt a dull ache in her chest. She couldn't bear it. Feeling so weak, so stuck on the boy who had only been a dream.
She took a deep breath and held it before she built that wall up once more, glaring at him with all the pain he brought out of her. "This will not end well for you."
His breathing grew rapid; his eyes began to glaze over and expand. His limbs twisted and cracked the way they always had during every transformation. He let go of her, and she fell back onto the dirt, looking up with widened eyes as his clothes tore. He let out an ugly scream as his features morphed, revealing the murderous beast that had lied dormant in him his whole life. Wednesday was no gorgon, no DaVinci, no werewolf. As handy as her psychic powers were, she knew she had no real ammunition in this fight. She had to think. And fast.
"You know she's just using you."
The Hyde had stopped dead in his tracks, his raised claw still hovering in the air as his eyes slightly narrowed. He did not trust her, and Wednesday could not blame him. She examined his face, trying to read through him. Frustration bubbled in Wednesday's throat, realizing that she was not able to detect human emotions on the face of a monster.
"You know you don't want to kill me. You're just carrying out an order, a command. She's manipulating you."
The beast roared loudly, its howls permeating through the empty woods in a haunting echo. It collapsed on all fours and stalked over to the girl, who was still lying on the ground before it. The pig-tailed girl tried to scoot backward, but the Hyde grabbed her ankle and tugged her back forcefully. As scared by the situation as she was, Wednesday tried not to allow her confident mask to slip in even the slightest. She failed, of course.
Her voice came out shaky, and she despised how fragile she sounded. "This will not be traced back to her. The murders. Reviving Crackstone. Destroying Nevermore. None of it. And once you've fulfilled your purpose, she will discard you like trash."
Tyler snarled, as if he didn't want to believe it, although he knew how much it was true. Laurel had only ever seen him as a pawn. Chained him up like a lab rat and experimented on him like he was just some animal. A guinea pig. He could remember her sick grins as she formulated concoction after concoction until she had perfected the serum that would be used to form their master-Hyde bond. The same serum she needed to groom him into doing her evil bidding.
For a second, the Hyde felt repulsed. Plagued by self-disgust and hatred. Not for Wednesday, not even for Laurel, but for himself.
Seconds passed. Then minutes. The Hyde and the girl were at a standstill, waiting for the other to make a move. Wednesday was unsure if the beast was sitting with the words, the biting truth a cold affliction, more bitter than the quads she would treat herself to at the Weathervane. The very atmosphere that encircled them had also seemed to change, as though the elements themselves could sense the unnerving apprehension between the two teens.
"Tyler," Wednesday broke the silence first. Her voice was softer, quieter. Unlike her usual deadpan cadence that pushed so many people away.
Not him, though. Never him.
The Hyde's eyes started to wander, and he stumbled back a few steps. His eyes shot back toward Wednesday's, and once again, the girl was incapable of finding the correct adjective to describe what she saw staring back at her. The Hyde slowly retreated back in the darkness of the woods behind him, before running off.
"Tyler!" Wednesday found herself calling out to him again, but the Hyde was long gone.
She dismissed the fleeting feeling of disappointment that bloomed in her chest as Tyler stormed off into the night. She needed to prioritize. She knew that Crackstone was still out there and planning to destroy Nevermore and every outcast with it. The sheer thought alone was enough to instill panic in her gut. The same school that she swore would never be able to handle her. The one she had planned to escape from the very same day her family had dropped her off at its front doors.
Then she thought about Enid, and Eugene, and Xavier. And everyone else that she had grown an unexpected fondness for. Time was running out.
She ran as fast as could back toward the Academy, to save the school that she had unintentionally grown to love.
By the time she had reached the disconcerting view of the eerie, black building, she could tell havoc had been wreaked to a dangerous degree. Students were fleeing the campus in droves, leaving behind the burning building of ash and scattered debris. Dead center of the Nevermore quad, stood Joseph Crackstone. Wednesday knew that she would need some fighting force to take this pilgrim down, and that she could not barge into this empty handed. She rushed toward the school's armory where she came across the ceremonial sword. She grabbed the cold metal handle and removed the weapon from its display, eyes gleaming over the silver sword with determination.
The prophetic image that Rowan had shown to her the night of his demise flooded back into her mind. Wednesday knew her purpose was to save all of Nevermore and everyone in it, stomping out the fire that was Crackstone and his genocidal intentions for good.
She started toward the campus square, where Crackstone was terrorizing two Nevermore students, his scepter glowing in his hand as he raised it above his head. His eyes were full of vengeance, hate, and disdain. Wednesday's cutting voice sliced through the tense air as Crackstone was about to bring down his scepter on the two kids. "Howdy, Pilgrim."
Crackstone's head snapped in her direction at her icy tone, clearly perplexed by Wednesday's recovery from his blade. He stared at her with rounded eyes, in disbelief, as if he were imagining her. "How canst thy heart still beat?"
Behind her, Wednesday was jolted out of her thoughts by the all too familiar voice of Xavier Thorpe.
The boy had appeared a few yards behind her and Crackstone, bow and arrow raised in the pilgrim's direction. The apparition grinned darkly as he brought a hand up, effectively halting the arrow mid air, mere inches away from his disfigured face. Crackstone turned the arrow back onto the boy, and Wednesday felt her stomach drop. Crackstone let go of the arrow, and it flew back in Xavier's direction with haste. Acting quickly, Wednesday moved in front of the arrow before it could hit her friend, instead lodging deep into her shoulder. She tumbled over a few times before she landed back on the hard concrete, a dazed expression on her face.
The pain was white hot, and excruciating. She gritted her teeth to block out the sensation as best she could.
She heard Xavier scream. Out of her peripheral, she saw him rush over to her to help her. She stopped him. "I'm fine. Just get the others out of here."
Xavier was knelt beside her, conflict evident on his face.
"Go!"
Hesitantly, he nodded and then ran toward a group of students, ushering them out of the campus. He looked back and glanced at Wednesday with worried eyes, before finally leaving the square. Wednesday inhaled sharply, grabbing the thick bow that pierced her shoulder before she pulled it out. And oh, how much it hurt, but she swallowed the pain the very best that she could. Tossing the arrow aside, she stood and grabbed the sword, raising it up at the genocidal pilgrim who wanted her dead.
The fight was no small feat, and Goody's sacrifice would have been in vain if it wasn't for Bianca. Bianca thrusted her sword inside of Crackstone's back as he had Wednesday cornered, effectively distracting him for just enough time for Wednesday to grab a shard of the broken sword and pierce him directly in the heart.
Crackstone had slipped backward, eyeing the gaping hole in his chest from Wednesday's sword. Wednesday twisted the knife, stepping back as her shoulders sagged with fatigue. The hole in Crackstone's chest widened slowly, revealing a fiery heap, a glimpse of what the old pilgrim was sure to be welcomed to on the other side of the realm. Soon, he was entirely ablaze, screams howling through the still, empty air of Jericho that night, until he had vanished into nothingness.
Across the quad, Wednesday spotted Bianca. The two girls shared an nod, one of understanding, but also with a sliver of respect. With Tyler out of the picture, and Crackstone gone, there was only one villain left.
*Gun cocks*
Of course, Wednesday thought.
Speak of the Devil, and she shall appear.
Wednesday's eye catches Laurel's, and she stared down the barrel of the redheaded woman's gun, her tone crisp. "You brought a gun to a sword fight. That's the first smart thing you've done all day."
Laurel had stepped out from the shadowy corners with her eye dead set on the young girl. "I may not get to kill all the outcasts, but at least I get to kill you, Wednesday."
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
The noise was momentary, so sudden that you could barely hear.
Wednesday almost didn't know what was going on until she heard the shrill scream that erupted from Laurel's throat. A few bees, then dozens, no— hundreds of them were swarming toward Laurel with unprecedented speed. Wednesday's breath caught in her throat at the sight, her eyes widening with nothing short of confusion.
What the hell?
Eugene.
Eugene walked up to the edge of the square where Wednesday was standing, orchestrating the bees to subdue Laurel. Pathetic shots rang out from the gun as if her bullets were any match for the sheer will of Eugene's precious pets. She could hear the sharp squelches of flesh from their stingers bitting into the woman's skin, a very tame punishment for a despicable crime. Wednesday almost couldn't believe the sight.
Almost.
By the time the sheriff had arrived, Nevermore looked like a tornado had hit. Wednesday, Bianca, and Eugene were reunited with the others outside of the Academy gates. Donovan Galpin, however, carried an expression of torment that didn't go unnoticed by Wednesday for a second. Where was Tyler in all of this? Where did he go? At this point, the entire police department knew his face and name. They would find Laurel's lair and all the evidence that points to Tyler as being the Hyde. Xavier was the one who they questioned first. He explained to them Laurel's plan to use Crackstone to take down Nevermore. Then it was Bianca, Eugene, and then finally, Wednesday.
Wednesday sat across from Donovan Galpin, but she was not pleased. Far from it. Laurel was currently being escorted to Jericho County Hospital for treatment while Crackstone had disintegrated into ash. But Tyler was still out there.
"You knew he was the Hyde," Wednesday said curtly. It wasn't a question, or even an accusation. It was a plain fact. One that the sheriff could not deny.
Donovan closed his eyes and rubbed the heel of his palms into his eyelids. "I had my suspicions."
Wednesday's hands were clasped together in her lap as she looked around the poorly lit office. "He's gone. I encountered him in the woods after I fled from Laurel's crypt. He transformed before he vanished into the dark. That was right before I went back to Nevermore to find Crackstone."
Donovan looked hopeful. "Did he say anything? About where he was going?"
"No." Wednesday replied, candidly. Although Wednesday was not fond of Donovan by any stretch of the imagination, the downturned corners of his mouth and red-rimmed eyes was enough to pull at the very thin heartstrings that took space in her chest. Wednesday wasn't big on empathy, or any emotion that required the concept of human connection, but she knew deep down that Donovan still seemed to care. Despite being a negligent drunkard who pushed his child away and hated everything about his life.
It was ugly. His relationship with his son. And perhaps emotional detachment had been a code that Wednesday had down pat before she even learned to walk, but it was not the same for Sheriff Galpin. To Wednesday, it was a lifestyle. To Galpin, it was a coping mechanism. That much she could see.
If Wednesday had to be truly honest with herself, she was not sure if she would ever see Tyler again. The very thought made her lungs constrict in agony, making her almost choke in a breath. She was blatantly unaware of any other locations he could have gone. His house? First place they would check. The Weathervane? Unlikely. In truth, a 17-year old fugitive with nothing but the clothes on his back would have nowhere to lay low. No one was exactly going to be opening their doors for homicidal teenage hydes.
"Please, help me find him," The sheriff interrupted Wednesday's thoughts, as if he could read her mind and knew precisely what she was thinking.
"What makes you think I would be able to lure him out of wherever he's hiding?" Wednesday questioned, genuinely curious. Donovan sighed, rubbing his face with one hand while the other anxiously fiddled with his cup of lukewarm coffee.
"I know how he feels about you, okay? He..."
Wednesday's brows furrowed. Her heart had involuntarily picked up its pace, and then she remembered that it was all part of Tyler's ruse. She felt the sour taste of bitterness creep up her throat once again. She quickly compartmentalized the emotion and forced it into a box, like she always had. "He doesn't feel anything for me."
"Come on. I know I'm not the best father-"
"That's putting it lightly," Wednesday interjected.
Donovan glowered at her, his voice tight. "-but I know when my own son has feelings for a girl."
Wednesday swiftly extinguished the flame of hope that brewed inside her at Galpin's words. She knew she couldn't let it get to her head. "Say I am able to find him. If he gets caught, you know that he will be locked up for the rest of his life. He murdered multiple people."
Donovan's face was pained, but he nodded. "I'd rather that than to never see him again."
Ever since Wednesday was old enough to even conceive the idea of reproduction, she swore off of ever having any children of her own. She did not see the appeal in willingly tying oneself down to a family, and like many things, she considered it to be beneath her. She didn't know what it was like to have a kid, certainly not one like Tyler Galpin.
She was no connoisseur of human emotion, but Galpin practically begging her to find his son was surely the nail in the coffin that was his own ego.
She knew it must have been agonizing for him to ask anything of her. That's how she knew his concern for his son was genuine, cracking through his own facade of indifference. For a moment, Wednesday wondered if these faux performances were a Galpin trait.
What influenced her saying yes to Galpin's request was a puzzle she could not quite piece together. Perhaps she simply sought out the thrill of solving another mystery, or maybe deep down she didn't want Tyler to die. Regardless of the reason, she knew she would need to stay in Jericho for the time being. She left the police station to see her friends sitting outside, waiting.
They had all been granted a police escort back to Nevermore. The place was full of blaring sirens and flashes of red and blue that illuminated the giant Academy walls. Back inside the dorm, Wednesday began to formulate the innerworkings of her quest to search for Tyler, which she knew would need to happen soon. She looked out of the half-colored glass window and quietly opened it, hoping not to wake up her roommate. Enid was draped in a weighted blanket, sound asleep in what Wednesday could only hope was a peaceful slumber.
She stepped out into the cool, windy night air. Her cello was untouched, and she did not particularly feel in the mood for a session. Not when there was so much that needed to be done. Thing stepped out and hopped on top of the balcony ledge, fingers swinging over the side.
She gazed over the trees, town lights, and other Jericho landmarks as a heavy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew she was on limited time, and that if she wanted to find Tyler, alive, then she would need to get started right away.
I will find Tyler, she promised herself.
Even if it were the last thing she'd ever do.