Chapter 9: Blood Ties
There was no path through the forest. There never had been.
However, they needed the dirt road, not, to travel to their destination: The Blood Castle.
The sun wished to peak through the small windows of the old RV, but it never did get the chance. Seeing as it affected Morticia, Shadow immediately pulled over the blinds before anyone even had a chance to breathe.
The hot, blazing ball of fire did not affect the vampires as many claimed. This bright, yellow star in the sky was different for them than that of the land in which they were unfamiliar with. It was incapable of ailing them, for reasons undiscovered.
Morticia, however, was affected by the blaze no matter which blaze it indeed was. Her rare form of photosensitivity was effective regardless of where she was. All through walking prior, she had kept up the hood of her cloak (due to this and concealing her features from those who might seek to harm her). It was not until she was at last, in the forest and under the covers of the trees that she had the option of removing her cloak (and that, she'd done).
Two days, it had been.
Two days, the group had been riding in the RV, the beat-up house-vehicle traveling at warp speed (for an RV of its… kind), to ensure they reached the Blood Castle on time.
"Alright, take it easy, Ash." Rosary warned, as her beloved had nearly bitten off her hand.
Ash had been driving the RV for three hours now, and Rosary held up a breakfast burrito mixed with meat and blood for her to eat while driving.
"What? It isn't like I haven't done this before." Ash winked and pressed harder on the gas, causing a harsh quake within the vehicle. "Did anyone die?" She questioned, feeling the jolt.
"Not yet!" Esmeralda replied, taking a chunk out of her roasted fire fox.
Rosary sighed. "I hope you all like your meals." She said to the group. "We don't have much. There are only three of us and we usually just hunt for the food."
"Hey, I'm not complaining!" Esmeralda replied. "I don't know what the hell a fire fox is, but it's delicious."
"Good." Rosary smiled and ate a8 blackberry from the plastic bowl in her lap.
Ash smirked.
Her battle attire consisted of a black tank top that was lowcut in a V-neck, black combat leggings and black, gothic boots. Her black leather jacket rested on the back of her seat.
Her nails were painted black, and her makeup was as minimal yet still striking as ever.
She wore her black promise ring, a black, spiked bracelet and a black ring designed as a pentacle, overlapping the sigil sign of Lucifer. Hanging around her neck was a red, piercing cat eye necklace.
Her hair was pinned up with a single, curled strand hanging down.
She aggressively took a bite of her burrito, then spoke to the group again. "Alright, news! We're like, seventy percent of the way there."
Morticia squeezed Gomez's hand, relieved at how close their destination was.
Gomez kissed it, passionately. "We're almost there, querida." He looked, deeply into her eyes.
Morticia breathed, deeply. "We are, aren't we?"
Morticia sat atop the dining table next to her husband, who romantically fed her blackberries from a plastic bowl on the table next to him.
Morticia turned to Ash and Rosary. "Thank you… for everything."
"You're welcome." Ash attempted to say whilst chewing her burrito.
"Pardon?" Morticia asked, not comprehending Ash's… reply.
"Allow me to translate." Rosary replied. "You're welcome." She paused, after which she added: "From both of us."
"Oh." Morticia nodded.
"We'll take a rest stop in about thirty-five miles and then drive another ten." Rosary explained. "Then we have to walk the rest of the way."
"How long is the rest stop?" Morticia questioned, trying not to let the worry for her son way too heavy on her voice.
"Probably about twenty." Rosary replied. "We'll drive this thing through blood, rain and fire, Morticia. Don't worry."
"Thank you, Rosary." Morticia smiled. She turned back to her husband, meeting his adoring eyes. "We're going to find Pugsley." She practically breathed out.
"Of course we are, Tish." Gomez responded, not yet releasing the hand he held. He took another berry from the bowl and held it over her.
Morticia opened her mouth, consuming it and nearly consuming his fingers along with it.
Gomez grinned, throwing her words back at her. "Haven't you ever been told not to bite the hand that feeds you?"
Morticia laughed. "Not by you."
"How true." Gomez wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Cómo muy cierto, mi encantadora."
"Mmm… en effet, il est, mon diable." Morticia kissed him. Je t'adore, mon amour et ma passion"
Gomez growled, his lips now heatedly kissing her neck. "Tish… that French." He groaned.
"Oui." Morticia smirked. "Encore?" She asked, knowing the answer.
"Please." Gomez begged, attacking her neck with desperate fervency.
"Je t'aime, mon beau diable." Morticia moaned, craving more of the feeling of his mouth against her skin. "J'ai besoin de toi, mon extase. Mon amour, mon éternité... me mordre, s' il vous plait…"
Gomez did as bade, and his teeth came into play.
"Oui... encore... le faire à nouveau Morticia was pleading.
Gomez's teeth sank into her snow white flesh once again, and he devoured her more than either of them had even thought to devour the blackberries.
Shadow sighed, continuing to chew on his three-day-old rabbit.
His battle attire consisted of black combat pants, black boots and a black, sleeveless shirt.
"Ash?" Wednesday asked from where she sat next to her grandmother in respective worn beanbag chairs, brought in from the living room.
"Yea?" Ash answered, nearly finished with her burrito.
Wednesday took a bite of her fire fox. "How… why, does Regina kill other vampires?"
"She kills them in one of the three ways possible to take out a vampire." Ash responded. "Then, I'm assuming they continue with their… blood sacrifices." She grimaced. "From what I've heard, they only consume other vampires when they're starving."
"Oh." Wednesday nodded.
"Let that sink in." Ash cocked her head, in pause. "Literally." She laughed a bit.
Black humour kept her from focusing on her one, terrible reality.
"So, how did ya get the RV?" Esmeralda inquired.
"The wastelands, located on the outskirts of the realm." Rosary explained. "Vampires, places and things that don't fit in here live there. It's by choice, of course. But it's like its own, separate realm. They even let in witches, if they live long enough to find the place." She continued. "We have a couple of friends there who sold it to us."
"Yea;" Ash chimed in. "and it was cheap as fuck."
"Fifteen-hundred rubies." Shadow added from his place, leaning against the counter. He raised his bottle of blood, then bringing it to his lips.
"Huh." Esmeralda shook her head. "You're RV cost more than my college fund." She remarked, in awe.
Ash raised an eyebrow. "What kind of college did you go to?"
"Well, it wasn't- oh, yea." Máma realized her mistake, then. "Your currency's different." She sighed. "Forget it."
Morticia was situated in her husband's strong arms, comforted by his embrace. "Gomez?" She looked up at him from where her head rested on his shoulder.
"Cara mia?" Gomez's thumb ran over her hand.
"Pugsley… he'll be alright." It wasn't so much as a confident statement as it was a hesitant, fearful one. Regardless of the outcome, however, it was an attempt at reassurance (for both of them).
Gomez understood instantly. "Yes, my darling." He brought her delicate, porcelain hand to his lips. "Of course he will."
….
The hoard seemed to grow in size each time he looked at it.
But perhaps that was just a trick of his paranoid mind.
No matter how many times the immortal human bats seemed to grow in number… he could always point her out.
She hadn't been there for a while, but then she just… reappeared, walking back down the stairs and disappearing (to all except Pugsley) into the mass of her kind.
Her… kind.
Pugsley's eyes concentrated on Scarlett; that was true. However, the young boy's light brown irises and dilated pupils never left her for reasons that differed than those prior.
He did it because… because he couldn't look anywhere else.
That, and the feelings in his brain cells, they bubbled and collided. He suspected things. He loved her and now… now, he... he couldn't.
His emotions ranged greater than upset… he felt- he had been, utterly betrayed by the girl he would once do anything for, and was sure felt the same way about him.
As sure as he was that he wasn't going to die.
How could he have loved her (Did he, still?)? How could he have been blinder than she was when in flight? How could he have… done everything for her, and never bothered to notice the nothing he received in return? Nothing… nothing but kisses on the cheek and empty promises.
He wished he would have told his parents about Scarlett. The truth that he had been in love with the daughter of Ms. Blood. That she… was the special girl.
They would have loved him regardless, but they also likely would have tried to talk some sense into him… done whatever they could to make him see the error of his besotted, naïve ways.
Would it have worked? Perhaps. Perhaps… no.
But they would have tried. And perhaps they could have stopped what was to come, had they known Scarlett was the one who had held his heart.
Had… not anymore.
For how could one love another… when they'd been betrayed in such a way?
How could he love her? He couldn't.
He could only watch her… and think… comprehending that his ending would be filled with heartbreak, terror… and endless regret.
He concentrated on her form… and observed as she turned so as to not be trampled by oncoming vampires.
He knew Wednesday had been right about her then. He knew he had been blind, and the only thing she ever truly lusted for was the hot, crimson liquid to soon be extracted from his veins… and never had it been him.
How else could he explain the streak of dried blood on her cheek?
Scarlett had joined the masses as soon as her mother let her out the door.
She had joined them… doing as she had been told. Readying herself for the blood sacrifice.
Readying herself. She was always readying herself.
And, Scarlett knew -just as Tabitha had said, in so many words- she always would be.
Her guilt was almost unbearable. Almost.
She was not moving by choice. She only moved because if she didn't… she would be trampled; and the dried streak of blood on her cheek would then become fresh.
She knew he was looking at her. She knew he watched her… but she didn't know why.
If I had done half of the things I have to myself, I certainly wouldn't look at me. Scarlett thought.
It would be easier for Pugsley to somehow just escape… escape and forget about her, forget about the vampires that- touched, him. Forget it all, just run… run and never look back… and pray he didn't come across any cannibals whilst he did.
It would be easier for Pugsley to somehow just escape… if the only vampires left were she, and her mother.
But that would never work. Her mother would know she had… would she?
Scarlett shook her head.
The ends justify the means.
Her mother may have been strict, but she was her mother. And she had raised her to the best of her ability.
She truly had done everything for her. There may never had been an Alistair, but there was… other, things. There were other… people. Other things and people that Regina promised Scarlett she would never have to deal with, never have to approach if she did what needed to be done.
Regina had seen so much… had learned the horrours of this realm and all others. Had learned about love and how it was all lies… had discovered what taking blood from her sister… and her mortal husband, felt like. Had built a castle- this castle out of her blood, bones and never cried tears. Had taught Scarlett that no sacrifice was too great to achieve what you lust for.
Scarlett had seen much as well, despite her mother assuring her she wouldn't have to. She had seen… seduction, and, felt it… but never her own. Never her own unless blood was involved. Then she almost understood. But… never her own.
Until… until him- no.
No. He was gone, he would…
Scarlett gulped.
He would die.
The ends justify the means.
The ends… Scarlett sighed. Justify the means.
But what ends? If the ends were brutalized versions of the means, was it truly justified?
Scarlett was pushed into the centre of the hoard, and then pulled away and out of it by Adrasteia, mouth on her wrists and soon, on her neck… pulling her closer.
Looking around her, she saw no new sight.
She witnessed vampires, all over Pugsley and all over each other… near bacchanalia but now, just a moving, hedonistic, blood lustful mass of them… that mass soon to become more sensualized than it already was.
But she was used to this.
She had readied herself.
….
"I'm trying not to bite your neck,
But it's beautiful and I'm gonna get,
So drunk on you and kill your friends…"
Máma and Wednesday played poker at the living room coffee table, listening to Rosary sing in the shower from the bathroom.
She had figured she would do it now before she had to drive shortly.
"Guess who's winning?" Máma grinned.
Wednesday was solemn of tone, and expressionless of face. "Me."
Esmeralda paused, eyeing her cards and thinking back to their game so far. "Damn." She humphed. "You're right."
"You'll need me and we can be obsessed,
And I can touch your hair and taste your skin,
The ghosts won't matter 'cause we'll hide in sin."
The shower turned off then, and after a few minutes, Rosary stepped out, dressed for battle.
She wore black combat leggings and a raspberry rose-coloured crop top that was spaghetti-strapped and lowcut in a V-neck. A black, ripped jean jacket with white fishnet in the tears was slung over her right arm.
On her feet, were black and white bordello ankle boots.
Her makeup consisted of mostly natural eyeshadow, her mascara and cat-eye eyeliner as well as the rest of her usual face, including raspberry rose pink lipstick.
She wore her promise ring with white diamond earrings, and a couple of silver rings as well as raw crystal rings that were different shades of pink and red.
"Hey, are you guys playing poker?" Rosary asked.
Wednesday nodded. "Where did you hear that song?" She questioned.
"Oh, I heard it performed at a party in one of the bars in the wastelands." Rosary replied. "It's where we get pretty much everything, especially good music." She told Wednesday. "We're planning to move out there. It's a bit more… our speed."
"I see." Wednesday continued the card game.
"Damn, I wish I could play with you." Rosary half-smiled.
"You can." Esmeralda said. "There's room for one more."
"I can't." Rosary put on her jacket and began to walk to the front of the RV. "It's my turn to drive."
Wednesday and her grandmother shrugged, continuing their poker game.
"I win." Wednesday lied her remaining cards down.
"Damn you." Máma grumbled, reaching into her pocket for the money she now owed Wednesday whilst Wednesday began to deal again for another game.
….
"I'm so glad I'm able to talk to you." Shadow grinned as he sat with Morticia on a log, outside of the RV.
"Why, thank you, Shadow." Morticia replied. "And I, you."
"I know you're probably very worried for your son." Shadow said, deciding to at first, take a sympathetic approach.
"I am." Morticia told him. "Thank you for helping us."
"It's our pleasure." Shadow's voice dropped an octave with intended sensuality. "You should know," He said. "I find you incredibly enchanting."
Morticia looked away, flattered. "Thank you."
"It must be hard for you, being without all of your family." Shadow put a hand on her leg.
"It is." Morticia admitted. "But, I'm trying not to worry." She paused. "It isn't working."
Shadow cocked his head. "Do you like art, Morticia?"
Morticia nodded. "Oh, yes. I adore it. I used to paint as a child, with my father."
"I'm sure your work was beautiful." Shadow complimented. "Seeing as you like art, I think you might like mine."
Morticia raised an eyebrow.
"Would you like to see it?" Shadow asked her.
"Of course." Morticia responded.
At her words, Shadow removed his shirt, exposing his several tattoos.
"They're magnificent." Morticia's eyes enlarged at the sight of the raven on his arm, and extending to his chest. "It's a raven."
"That was my first one." Shadow set his shirt on the log. "I've always loved ravens."
"As have I." Morticia responded. "Beautiful creatures, they really are. My favourite birds, besides vultures."
"Vultures, really?" Shadow shrugged, now planning for his next tattoo. "Interesting."
Morticia ran her hand over the raven, tracing it's pattern. "It's a wonderful piece of art."
Shadow smirked, happy to finally get her alone… even if he couldn't just yet.
….
"Ash?" Gomez sat alone -for now- in the chair in the spare bedroom.
Ash walked in, casually. "We'll be leaving in a bit. Go figure, we're having engine trouble when we're fucking ten miles away." She shook her head.
"Thank you." Gomez stood from the chair. "Actually, I was wondering if I could speak with you, privately?"
Ash raised an eyebrow, confused; but she obliged and shut the bedroom door behind her. "Everything alright, Gomez?"
"Yes, I… I think so." Gomez decided. "Ash, I observed the… argument between you and Rosary a couple of nights ago."
"Oh, sorry about that." Ash shook her head. "She can be a handful. But, I adore her."
"I understand." Gomez laughed. "This may sound strange. But I feel that, I can understand you. I want to talk to you. I think I can… help you."
"I don't need any help." Ash's eyes were instantly downcast. "With all due respect, Gomez, you don't know anything about me."
"That's what I used to say." Gomez told her, not looking away from her.
Ash looked back at him. "What?"
"I believe I can relate to you, Ash." Gomez told her. "I know what it's like to… lose people."
Ash's resolve seemed to slowly deteriorate, but her guard was still high up. "What does this have to do with my argument with Rosary?"
"It has to do with your argument with Rosary because, I think, you have scars, Ash." Gomez confessed. "I think that you've been hurt, more than once. And I think that you're urge to protect the one you love, who understands you… your angel; is stronger than a thousand hurricanes. But, I believe that your urge to protect her, can turn into control."
Ash was shocked.
This man, whom she only had known for the past two days… had gotten everything exactly right about her.
How?
"I…" Ash swallowed, hard. "That may be true."
Gomez nodded. "I know what that means." He said. "You don't have to worry about talking to me. I promise, I am not going to betray you. I have no reason to." He grinned. "I'd like to think of us as friends, no?"
Ash smiled. "You know, you're incredibly charming." She shook her head. "And I'm a lesbian."
"Thank you, I try." Gomez chuckled. "Will you talk to me?"
"I won't talk to anyone except Rosary."
Gomez said nothing… simply waited.
Ash double-checked that the door was locked; and she sighed, turning back to him. "And now you." She crossed her arms. "I…" She sat on the bed, not breaking eye-contact with him. "My mother was an alcoholic… slut. She smoked," Ash shook her head. "DNA, amiright?" She continued speaking. "Primarily cigarettes. She liked to put 'em out on my father. My father… he was good. He kept her away from us. But we were kids… and we couldn't keep her away from him."
Gomez stepped closer to her, still far enough to give her space but close enough to let her know he was listening.
"They were killed when I was fifteen. Both of them, at exactly the same time." Ash's arms loosened a bit. "My mother apparently snorted coke like it was her job; she got it in the wastelands." She explained. "She didn't pay the money she borrowed back that she used to buy it. They ripped her heart out and they burned it, and did the same to my father." She said. "But, I always took care of Crimson, ever since she was born. So, I thought, why stop now? I took her out to the woods for a while, we lived in a little abandoned cottage out by where the… wolves are, mostly. Then, I met Rosary when I was seventeen… Shadow came on the scene when I was nineteen. And they helped me raise that girl. They helped me raise her until… I couldn't anymore. Because she was gone."
Gomez nodded in understanding. "She saved you?"
"Rosary?" Ash asked, playing with the curled strand of hair before her face. "Hell… I would be dead without her. She's the soul thing I live for. I used to live for her, and Crimson. If I didn't have her, when I lost Crimson… I'd have nothing to live for. I wouldn't, be living."
"That, I can understand more than anything you've said so far." Gomez told her.
"How?" Ash kept her arms cross, but… looser. She stared into his eyes. "What happened to you?"
Gomez gave a small, short, somewhat bitter laugh. "Misfortune, from the time I was sixteen until I met my Tish." He elucidated: "I was very close with my older brother, Fester."
Ash said nothing, seeing as this family obviously had a… thing for unusual name choices.
"We did everything together from the time I was… born, really. I looked up to him, but he never knew that." Gomez confessed. "I may have been the one to charm the women but he was… he was a good man, in his way. He was smart; he knew everything there was to know about explosives. He would go and do anything he wanted to, even if he made an utter fool of himself doing it." Gomez reminisced. "And our parents were wonderful, other than the fact that my father was addicted to gambling for a while. He stopped when I was eleven, because he almost lost us half of the family fortune. My mother stopped him. She was a wonderful woman. Morticia and I have always wished the children could have known them better." He sighed. "But, tell that to an angry mob." Then… his features darkened. "Fester and I had our disagreements. I tied him to a tree and pulled out four of his permanent teeth; he choked me until I lost consciousness and had to be put on a respirator."
Ash cocked her head. "That's fair."
Gomez nodded, in agreement. "We were little terrors; even getting sent to Camp Custer for preteen offenders." His features darkened. "And then, we attended the party at Debutant Hall. We met the Amour twins. Conjoined twins, Flora and Fauna. Fester was a virgin, I… wasn't. I was an egotistical, overly prideful sixteen-year-old with no concept of how he might have felt if I wooed them both. I did. I regret that every day of my life."
"What happened?" Ash asked.
"He had had enough. And he left." Gomez answered. "He walked away from the family, from me." He paused. "Twenty-three years ago." He said, then: "I became a bigger male slut than I already was. I went with every woman who I found remotely attractive and who wanted a good night. I drank, I acted out… the only thing I didn't do was hurt my family more than I inadvertently already was." His features brightened a bit. "And then I met my black angel, my Tish. We met and became engaged in one night."
Ash's eyes enlarged.
"The instant I met her, I knew I had to make her mine. We bonded to each other that night in every way possible, and I knew I couldn't live without her. She helped me, she loved me for everything that I was… and she saved me. I changed for her. The day I found her was the day other women were nothing more to me than a friendly face and someone to respect. But my Tish, she is everything." He stepped closer to Ash. "And my urge to protect her is strong."
"So strong that you'd risk her being angry with you just so she wouldn't get hurt." Ash understood him more than she'd ever understood any other man.
"The woman I would never say no to."
"And no matter much you try to explain that its for her protection, you still seem so controlling." Ash discontinued playing with her hair.
"You explain, you do everything you can. You cannot lose-"
"The only person you could ever love." The two said in unison.
Gomez nodded.
"If you did, your life would see its end."
"You couldn't move, couldn't breathe." Gomez added,
"Couldn't see anything but the grave ahead of you." Ash shook her head.
"Loving her, living for her pleasure, desperate to make her happy."
"My angel."
"My everything."
"Gomez?" Ash broke the flow of their… whatever it was, but refused not to meet his eyes. "I don't want Rosary to think I don't trust her judgement. Or that I'm trying to control her, I just… wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to her."
"I understand completely." Gomez replied, taking her hands. "And if you will allow me, I would like to give you some advice."
Ash nodded and stood up.
"Tell her, really tell her. Tell her everything and keep nothing from her. Explain to her why you do what you do, and try to do it… differently." Gomez said. "Listen to her, listen to everything she has to say before you get upset that she could have endangered herself, or that she could. Try to understand her, and understand that she… is going to be alright. Don't give in always. Like if she wants to go cliff-diving with a broken parachute."
"Of course." Ash concurred.
"Everyone knows you do it with a working parachute, with no parachute or not at all." Gomez added. "But, try to understand that she adores your protection, but she can protect herself. I…" He sighed, admitting: "have trouble with this one. My querida is strong, and her life was not at all easy… sometimes, it still isn't. No matter how many times I tell myself she can also be her own protector, I step in and attempt at commandeering that protection, and labeling myself as her protector."
Ash appeared defeated.
"But," Gomez continued. "I remind myself the main reason I call her my black angel. And it is not because of her voice. It's because she saved me. She saved me from destruction and she continues to, time and time again. And if she can restart a heart as frozen as mine used to be… she can walk down the street on her own."
Ash's face was so very close to his own.
And wasn't it amazing?
She had never had a friend other than Shadow… and this man, this mortal man knew as much about her as her own angel. And he used it to help her, in ways she never thought she could be helped… until now.
"You're right." Ash nearly had tears in her eyes, but she held them back. "Thank you."
Gomez smiled. "We're very similar, you and I. We have been through our own, personal Hells and yet we know that the only true Hell would be being without our angels."
Ash nodded. "I… can I just go kind of off-topic for a second?"
"Anything you want." Gomez replied.
"I remember when… Crimson and I used to run around with the wolves whenever we saw them." Ash reminisced. "They liked us. We were the only ones who weren't afraid of them. We shared part of our dinners with them." She smiled. "Crimson used to call this little, baby one we always saw, White Rabbit. She said it was because just like the thing from the story, he got all of the other baby wolves to follow him even though they had no idea where he was going." She laughed. "One day, they all… crashed into a tree, following him. We bandaged them up, helped them out…" She sighed. "Like what I did for her, only backwards."
Gomez wore an empathetic expression. "Fester and I used to sneak out to the train room past our bedtimes. We would stay up all night, placing dynamite below the bridge or around the curve. We would run the trains smoothly for a while. Fester always said we were… luring the little men inside them into a false sense of security." He shook his head. "But we always ended up crashing the trains… one way or another, they went up in smoke." He sighed. "That's what I did to Fester. What he did to me, when he left." He thought for a moment, then spoke again. "My son is missing. My son is missing and still, Tish and I pull through. Without her, I would not exist… and despite our missing child, the only way either of us know how to survive it is by doing it together."
"I get it." Ash responded. "I was devastated, heart-shattered when Crimson was taken. The only way I was able to endure it was with… by, Rosary."
Gomez was correct about the connection he had shared with Rosary. It was strong… and… there was a level of extreme understanding.
And… despite the odds, compassion for one another unlike almost anything they'd felt before.
"You will be alright, Ash." Gomez gripped her shoulders. "Don't forget what I've advised you to do. And don't do anything you will regret. Rosary's soul is bonded with yours. Don't try to control your other half."
There were tears in Ash's eyes now. "Thank you, Gomez." She embraced him, crying. "Thank you."
Gomez hugged her back. "You're welcome, Ash." He smiled. "Thank you
Ash broke the embrace as soon as she dried her tears and walked to the door, opening it. "I have to go help Rosary fix the engine." She explained. "Go outside and tell Morticia we'll be driving again soon."
"What?" Gomez asked before Ash exited.
"She's been outside talking to Shadow for like, the past twenty minutes." Ash told him.
"I see."
Gomez hastily exited the room, then uncovering the window and looking out to see Morticia, fascinated and running her pale, delicate hand over the tattoo of a raven on Shadow's arm… and chest.
Gomez cleared his throat and abruptly shut the blinds, turning to Ash. "If you will excuse me?"
Ash gestured to the door of the RV. "Go. And feel free to tear Shadow apart." She winked. "I'll understand."
Gomez took a deep breath. "Thank you." He walked to the door of the RV, opening it, then… and exiting.
"Is that a wolf on your back?" Morticia asked, intrigued… and knowing Gomez was feet away.
"Skull." Shadow corrected. "In wolf's clothing."
"Interesting."
Morticia was about to take a look at it when she heard Ah-hem… coming from her husband, standing over her.
Shadow stiffened, attempting to prevent himself from sweating.
Morticia remained calm, waiting.
"Tish? Would you please accompany me over there please?" Gomez extended a hand.
"Over where?" Morticia questioned and took his hand.
"Far away." Gomez ragefully glared at Shadow.
He gently pulled Morticia up, then… leading her over behind an oak tree, many… many yards away from Shadow.
"What was that?" Gomez asked, jealousy thickening his accent.
"What was what?" Morticia inquired, coyly.
"Why was your hand on his chest?" The vein in Gomez's forehead protruded, slightly.
"He was showing me his tattoos." Morticia replied.
Gomez's hands began to assist in animating his words. "He is a tool, not a hands-on art exhibit."
"Jealous, mon cher?" Morticia raised an eyebrow.
"Yes." Gomez admitted. "You're-" He bit his lip.
"What?" Morticia questioned.
"Flirtatious." Gomez said.
"I am not flirtatious." Morticia replied, evenly… not angered in the slightest. "I'm friendly."
"Tish, you know as well as I do that that," He pointed out to where Shadow sat, now afraid for his life. "was not friendly."
"He offered. I didn't ask." Morticia told him.
"It doesn't matter that he offered!" Gomez put a hand on his head. "Do you know how he has been looking at you? He puts his hand… on your leg, and he had his arm around you by the fire last night, again! He's completely shameless!"
"So was she." Morticia's words slipped out… rare, for her.
But perhaps they simply had to be said.
"What?" Gomez asked.
"So was Regina." Morticia stiffened. "All through her stay, her hands were on you as much as they could be. She talked to you, privately. She took you away from me whenever she got the chance." She met his eyes. "I was jealous for weeks."
Gomez closed his eyes, sighing with incredible guilt. "Querida… I'm sorry." He shook his head. "My reasons don't change what I did. My black angel, I never intended to make you jealous… or to hurt you. I only intended to protect you. And I know, I shouldn't have lied to you or… allowed Regina to make me leave you at times when all you wanted was for me to hold you, and physically adore you…" He placed worshipping hands on her hips. "Mi encantadora, I will never stop trying to make this up to you."
Morticia never looked away from him. "I never meant to hurt you."
"You didn't." Gomez assured her. "Although Shadow may mysteriously end up dead somewhere but I would never blame you for that." He kissed her hand, then placing his hands back on her hips.
Morticia smirked. "You're always saying you would kill for me."
"That I would, cara mia." Gomez grinned.
Morticia leaned in closer and put a hand on his chest. "I missed you, terribly when you weren't with me…" She half-smiled, a bit sadly… her nails drumming on his chest. "And I miss…"
Gomez held her, close to him and held the hand that was pressed to his chest, encouraging her to tell him.
"I miss what you used to call me." Morticia finally said.
Gomez felt absolutely terrible. He knew exactly what she meant before she even elaborated, and he felt like a bastard times one thousand.
He stopped calling her… because of… vampires.
"Do you know what her name means in Latin?" Morticia asked.
"I do." Gomez paused, passion for his black angel, burning in his eyes. "And I don't give a damn. Tish, that woman's name may mean queen but she isn't mine. She never will be." He promised, squeezing her hand. "You are. You will always be."
Morticia smiled. "I've known that since that first night we met… but I needed to hear that." She admitted.
"Yo usted culto, mi reina." Gomez brought her hand to his lips, beginning to kiss her fingers and work his way to her wrist.
Morticia completely melted at his words… at that name. "I missed that… very, very much."
"I will never again stop calling you any one of those treasured names, my darling. I am so sorry." Gomez's held her, tightly and kissed her neck. "Never, ever again."
"I know." Morticia closed her eyes, happy to have finally let everything out.
"Mmm… mi reina." Gomez lifted her up, bridal style.
Then, he carried her back into the RV -knowing their ten-mile departure would begin as soon as the engine was running once again-, then taking her into their guest bedroom and locking the door behind him.
As soon as he did, Morticia paused. "Gomez?" She took a deep breath.
Gomez met her eyes. "Querida?"
"There's something else I miss." Morticia was beggining to feel her mood change and her heart was beggining to ache.
Gomez's face fell, feeling reality's bloody history creep upon him. He cupped Morticia's cheeks and kissed her head. Knowing the answer, but understanding his wife had to say it, he asked: "What?"
Morticia sawllowed, hard. "I miss Pugsley." She closed her eyes, steadying herself against her husband. "I have been trying, desperately to take my mind off of this... I can't. Gomez, Pugsley is our son. He's my little boy and he's gone because of her."
"I know, Tish."
It was funny; Morticia had explained so much of what her husband was feeling when describing her own. Her soul bound to his... bonded with his.
"My dearest, I know. As have I." Gomez held her chin, gently and stared into her dark orbs of mystery... and now, fear, and love... and passion. "I miss him terribly. Every time I am alone, I am haunted by what has happened." He admitted. He paused. "Do you remember last night?"
Morticia nodded.
"I fell into a flood of tears the minute you fell asleep." Gomez could not help but tell her.
He needed her just like she needed him; she was his black angel. His saving grace. His reason for breathing and for remaining stable.
Remaining stable.
Morticia began to feel her own tears attemting to fall, but she refused to allow it. "I'm sorry, Gomez."
"Why? Tish, none of this is your fault, cara mia." Gomez assured her. "I feel guilty, and powerless, and afraid. But that is not your fault." He took her hand, bringjng it to his lips. "You are all that is keeping me from insanity right now."
"Sometimes going mad sounds like a more reasonable option." Morticia confessed. "But then I remember our son."
Gomez nodded, squeezing her hand.
"The truth is, Gomez, I don't know what to do." Morticia blinked back the tears she refused to allow to fall. "I try to take my mind off of this for the sake of my sanity... but underneath that, I feel guilty. I think about it, and it send me into a spiral because what if we don't get him back and we lose him because of her? I would fall apart, Gomez, we can't lose him!" She cried. Out of breath now, from speaking the terrible, fearful words she had been to afraid to say., she cried.
Gomez felt that guilty... sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, now move to his breaking heart. Another blow to the thing and the once steadily beating symbol of love may just shatter.
Doing the first thing he knew he could do, he embraced her, holding her and attempting to soothe her as she cried into his shoulder.
"I know, querida. I know..." He closed his eyes. "We are not going to lose Pugsley. I promise. I promise, we will..." He shook his head as the remaining tears from last night fell. "We will make sure of that."
Morticia wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing herself to get a grip on everything she could. "I can't... I can't lose him, Gomez. I can't."
"I know. And you won't." Gomez promised her. "We won't." He kissed her head. "I will be damned if we do," And perhaps if we don't. He thought.
"Gomez?" Morticia held onto him tighter.
"Yes, my black angel?"
"Can we just... sit down for a couple of minutes?" Morticia's voice sounded completely broken... completely heartshattered.
"Of course, my dearest." Gomez led her over to the bed. "We're going to sit... and you're going to get some rest, alright?" He sat on the bed, extending his arms to her.
Morticia practically fell into her husband's lap, curling up against him and attempting to regain control of herself.
Control of everything that she couldn't.
….
The RV had been rocking for the past three minutes, as that was when driving had again, commenced.
Gomez, however, held his reina in his arms, as tight as he possibly could.
"Mon amour," Morticia began. "I couldn't survive this without you." By now, she had at least gotten control of herself.
"Or I without you, my darling." Gomez pushed her hair over her shoulder. "I know how you miss him, mi encantadora. But we have to be strong." He held her tighter. "And you're very good at that."
"Thank you, mon cher." Morticia's nails drummed, lightly against his chest. "It seems like every day that goes by is a lifetime of misery." She shook her head. "And without our son, that means nothing."
"Well we're going to have him back soon." Gomez swore. "And then we will be able to share a thousand lifetimes of misery with both of our children."
Morticia smiled. "Well now, we can't go mad before that happens."
"No." Gomez kissed her neck. "We can't."
Morticia let out a contended sigh. "I love you, Gomez." Her voice was little more than a whisper.
Gomez looked down at her, his expression melancholy due to history, and reality. "I love you too, Tish." His lips met hers, passionately. "I love you with all of my soul."
Morticia stroked his cheek. "It's going to be alright." She nodded, attempting to convince both he and herself.
"Of course it will." Gomez kissed her palm. "It will."
The door opened.
There Wednesday stood.
She placed her hands over her eyes.
"Mother, father." Wednesday greeted them. "Is this a bad time?" She asked, understanding by now, how involved her parents were.
"No, Wednesday." Morticia assured her. "Not at all."
Wednesday uncovered her eyes and found they were just... lying there.
She blinked twice, confused but spoke anyway. "Mother?"
"Yes, darling?" Morticia asked.
"I need to talk to you." Wednesday finally said.
Morticia's perfect eyebrow arched. "Is everything alright?"
Wednesday was hesitant when she nodded. "Yes… everything is… fine, mother." She replied, lying a bit. "I just need to talk to you."
Morticia knew her daughter was keeping something from her. But she figured she was likely going to find out what it was soon.
"Of course, Wednesday." Morticia said. "I'll meet you in your guest bedroom shortly, dear."
"Alright. Thank you, mother." Wednesday responded, exiting the bedroom as quick as she could and shutting the door behind her.
Gomez ran his hand over Morticia's back. "What do you think that could have been about?" He asked.
Morticia shook her head. "I'm not sure." She admitted. "I'd… better go talk to her." She decided, although reluctant to move from her position.
Gomez only wrapped his arms around his wife tighter and left a trail of kisses from her jaw to her shoulder.
Morticia laughed, her husband being the only one who could bring that out of her at a time like this. "Before we park." She half-playfully hit his arm.
"Alright, mi hermosa diosa." Gomez released her, planting one last kiss on her cheek before she crawled out of the bed.
Morticia was about to exit the room when she turned back to her amour. She smoothed down her hair as she spoke. "I miss the way he enters our room, unsuspectingly and can be so adorably apologetic in one breath and so sophisticatedly homicidal in the next."
Gomez, picking up on her reminiscence of their son in his absence, followed along with her. "Or that expression he gets when he blows up… anything, really."
"Especially the trains when he sneaks down there." Morticia added.
"Rascal." Gomez chuckled and shook his head. "I love how beautifully contradictory to himself he is. How he can strive to make everyone so happy one minute, and the next… get blood-splatter all over the corpse of Cousin Cordelia."
Morticia took a deep breath. "Pugsley can't… not be alright, Gomez. He has to be." She said. "Everything we've built pertaining to this family, would mean nothing without our beautiful children. Either of them. They're… our first witch and our darling little table number one."
"And Pugsley will be alright." Gomez promised.
"He will be." Morticia nodded. "He has to be." She added: "And I am going to kill that woman for what she's done to him."
"That should do it." Gomez chuckled, using humour as his sheild for now. He got up out of bed and approached her, placing his hands on her hips. "Tell me if you or Wednesday need anything."
Morticia smirked. "Of course." She kissed him. "Je t'aime, mon diable."
"Te amo, mi reina." Gomez opened the door for her.
And then Morticia exited the room... looking to speak with her daughter.
….
Dark orbs of mystery. Disguised, dark orbs of mystery.
Long legs. Short, long legs.
Lithe figure. Not curvy… but lithe.
Pale lips. Uncovered, pale lips.
Makeup. Internal, rather than external… makeup.
Raven hair. A shade off from midnight.
Pale white skin. Ghostly… but not as white as the fallen snow.
Crimson nails. Crimson.
Crimson.
Crimson.
Wednesday Addams' nails… were crimson.
Her nails were crimson, and her visions were eating her alive.
It seemed like so long ago that she had had them… but she had had them.
She had had them, and now she couldn't sleep without worrying about more of them (not that more had come… yet). She could almost never look her mother in the eyes anymore without getting that… chill.
She knew, now, that everything she had seen had been real. But… it all felt so, very, unreal.
Morticia was her mother. The last thing Wednesday wished to witness was the trauma she went through. The last thing she wanted to know was why her mother had one morning every month where she got out of bed later than usual… but the only noise coming from her and her parent's bedroom was murmured whispers of assurance and It's alright, my darling. I'm right here. from her father.
She had never dared to ask why. Had she ever (as horrible as it sounded, now…) cared?
Of course, Wednesday cared about her mother. But she also cared about her mother's privacy, and… and… and who was she fooling? She cared about her mother, yes. But she also cared about her childhood. She was twelve. She liked playing Hide and Shriek, and hooking her younger brother up to the electric chair, and torturing unsuspecting boy scouts until their scout master came and broke up the fun.
The young girl was not ignorant. If her family had a problem that she was aware of, she would not hesitate to assist them. But she was also still a child. A sophisticated, mature child… but a child.
And she saw… everything her mother had been through. She had witnessed things she had… never thought to wish to witness.
But she had.
And she had been struggling with what she had seen long enough.
It was time to talk to her mother.
She heard the door open… and looked up from where she sat on the small armchair in the corner of the room… to watch her mother gently shut it behind her.
She was… in two words: an enchantment.
And this didn't ease Wednesday's rattled mind about being like her. Rather (for whatever reason) … it worried her more.
"Wednesday, darling?" Morticia approached her, gliding across the room. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long." She apologized, smoothing down her hair. "What is it that you'd like to talk about?"
Wednesday avoided her mother's eyes.
And this did not go unnoticed by her now concerned mother.
"Thank you for coming, mother." Wednesday sat straight up.
Morticia was taken aback by such formality. "Of course, darling. You know I'm always here to talk to you. I would never just… not come."
Wednesday nodded. "Mother?"
"Yes, Wednesday?" Morticia crossed her arms, elegantly.
"I…" Wednesday could not believe the trouble she was having at speaking to her own mother.
But this… this, was… different.
"I had…" She shook her head, starting over. "I always get the same amount of sleep every night. But, a few nights ago I got…" Again, she shook her head and made another attempt at explanation. "I never asked you about… where that song came from-" Wednesday sighed. "A few nights ago, I had… I woke up at 3:30…"
Morticia raised an eyebrow. "Wednesday- "
"I had visions about your past!" Wednesday blurted out, cutting her mother off.
"Pardon?" Morticia asked, concerned.
"I had visions about your past, mother." Wednesday reiterated. "I thought they were dreams, at first but then, I saw… things. I saw you, in my mirror. And you looked younger. You had me as a… baby, in your arms. And you were singing me that song… The Moon." She recalled. "The night before, I had several drea- visions, and they all faded into each other. But the first one was of this man who looked a lot like you. And he held this baby in his arms in this bedroom that had you written all over it. And he was singing The Moon."Morticia's eyes widened as her daughter continued speaking.
"He kissed the baby girl's head after he placed her in the cradle, and before he walked out of the room he whispered: Goodnight, Morticia." Wednesday was on a verbal train, and she would not have allowed it to stop nor derail, even if it had been hijacked by every girl scout in America.
Fortunately for her, it had not been.
"He was your father. I realized that in the second dream because the name, Charles, popped into my head." She said. "You were a young child in that dream… and he was reading you The Tell-Tale Heart."
Morticia felt a pang in her own heart but allowed her daughter to continue speaking.
"But your mother came in and told you it was time for bed. I couldn't believe it was Máma but it… was." For the first time in her life, Wednesday was ever-so-slightly animated… and obviously upset. "She seemed to really love your father but she seemed sort-of… distant from you. She had finished reading to… your sister, I guess. The one you never talk about, Ophelia." She told her, as if her mother had others. "Well, anyway then the dream faded into… another one. And mother, it was awful. I felt… everything. It was when your father died. I felt the pain, and the heartbreak… and the isolation. It felt like my entire world was crashing down around me and I couldn't breathe, couldn't move… couldn't do anything but- "
"Agonize… and feel so… alone." She and her mother said in unison.
Wednesday froze. "What?"
"The unspeakable kind of darkness… the sheer isolation, the coldness… begging any power that exists not to take the only one who you truly have in this world but it…" Morticia fought back tears as her mind nearly reverted to the dram. "It does." She practically whispered.
Wednesday was speechless.
How…?
"When did you have this dream- vision?" Morticia asked her daughter.
"The night before Pugsley was… taken." Wednesday answered.
Morticia nodded. "As did I."
Wednesday gulped.
No. No… this was too much… too much and she wasn't even finished yet!
"I see." She cleared her throat. "After that dream, I saw all of these different… parts of your life. It happened before your father died. Only that time, it was… so much better." She still refused to meet her mother's eyes. "I saw that you became a waitress with that friend of yours, Hailie. And you supported your family, and you were so… hurt, and sad and…" She exhaled, shortly. "then you were harassed by these drunk men when you were walking home by yourself one night. And they were… awful, to you. One of them had an accent; he talked too much." Wednesday described. "They pushed you against a wall. But the whole time, you never stopped… fighting. You spit on the one man, Charlie -which is something I've never even… thought of you doing; not that he didn't deserve it-, and he unbuttoned his pants and I felt… fear. Complete fear and hatred and… disgust for everything that was happening until it… didn't happen. Hailie saved you. She pretended she had a gun."
Morticia was floored, and… terribly upset, internally.
How dare the universe allow her daughter to see-
Wednesday was not through.
"You walked home with Halie that night. You just brushed yourself off when they left like nothing… could have happened." Wednesday shifted. "It was your birthday."
Morticia put a hand over her mouth.
And it was at this moment, that any doubts Wednesday could possibly have still had about her visions indeed being just those… that those doubts were gone, dead and externally buried.
By her mother's reaction… it had to be true.
"Then, after all of the terrible parts… everything changed. I saw a bit of when you met father." Wednesday explained. "I never could understand what love… felt like but I felt it radiating off of you when I had those visions. It was like… he saved you from… yourself. And everything in your life. It was like… like he loved you, but you didn't have to worry he would hurt you or leave you." She told her mother. "And then I witnessed the day you told him you were pregnant with me. And at first you talked about some lawyer named Mr. Winchester who you wanted… Tully, to replace."
Morticia removed her hand from her mouth… and stiffened.
"Father was so worried about you that he didn't even register that you'd told him you were pregnant until… a few seconds after you had told him." Wednesday recalled. "And you were both… ecstatic. You told him which room you wanted to be… mine. And he was -as always- completely adoring and receptive to anything you wanted." She said. "And then that vision faded into… a vision with you, holding me as a baby and singing The Moon. And the room looked perfect for an Addams, with everything a little girl could want. And you had on your wedding ring, and… that ring from your father."
Morticia couldn't think of a suitable response.
Mostly, she was angry.
She was angry at the world for showing her daughter what she had worked herself to the heart, to make sure her children never had to see… let alone, experience.
The world. She was angry at the world.
The bloody, cold, cruel world which had taken her father from her, had robbed her of her teenage years and had forced her into so many undesired, uncalled for, unwanted… unloved… traumatic instances that she could write an autobiography about it.
But she was too private a person to do such a thing.
She was also worried.
She was worried of what this would do to her daughter… what this had done to her already. She was afraid that her daughter would have that same trauma… or see her as… weak, in some aspects.
And that terrified her. It terrified her more than those drunk bastards from the bar she once worked at ever had.
She was… heartbroken.
Heartbroken that her daughter had been suffering in silence. Confused, and searching for answers to subconscious inquiries, that no one but her mother had.
"Wednesday, darling…" Morticia's tone was calm, despite her insides being anything but. "Look at me, please, dear."
Wednesday couldn't.
"Darling…" Morticia sighed. "Please."
Wednesday did.
Slowly, she shifted her eyes… and looked directly into her mother's.
And the chill returned.
Morticia spoke once her daughter met her eyes. "I never intended for you to see my… past. Ever. I didn't tell you those things because I want you to know me and my strength for who I am… not because of what I've had to endure." She explained. "That, and you're still so young. I don't want my burdens… my past, to leave a mark on yours." She stepped closer to her daughter. "I love you, Wednesday. I love you and I love your brother. And I can't have either of you paying for the life I had. You don't deserve that. I will be damned if that happens to you… either of you."
Wednesday blinked twice.
Her mother was… every word, every strong, beautiful word seemed to pale in comparison to her mother.
"I…" Wednesday swallowed, hard. "In the dream, our eyes met in the mirror." This was the part she dreaded to say out loud. "Our eyes were the same." She nodded. "The exact same."
Morticia almost broke out into a smile.
She had shared something, wonderful… with her daughter. Her daughter was turning out to be everything she had hoped, and then some.
And her eyes… their eyes, were the same. Exactly the same.
Morticia -however- did not break out into that smile, as she noticed the slight inflections in her daughter's tone… and she recognized instantly that it was laced with anxiety.
"Mother, you were… are… became, an enchantment." Wednesday said. "You're strong, and intelligent, and you have a dark sense of humour… and interesting fashion sense. And you're beautiful, and…" She was running out of things to say, so she decided to cut to the chase. "I admire you, greatly. But I…" She nearly looked away, but she did not. "I am terrified of turning into you."
Morticia took a deep breath, not taking offense to this just yet… and hoping she wouldn't have to.
"I don't know if I want to get married or have children, or speak French, or…" Wednesday shook her head. "I don't know if I can handle all of the responsibilities you… have. And I didn't even realize what half of them were until those visions. But now, I can't stop thinking about them because if I'm turning into you, that means I'll have them. And I'll have to go through some type of hell and I don't know what that is. I don't… want to. I don't want everything you do. I like looking a bit different, like… myself. And I'd rather sit down and play poker with Máma than watch Hellraiser -not that it isn't a good movie." She was nearly out of breath. "I'm scared, mother." She admitted, for the first time in her life. She paused. "Our nails…" She held out her hand, placing it on her lap. "they're the exact same colour, nonpurposefully. But they're the exact same colour." She squinted, her face slowly evening out as she spoke. "I was never afraid to be like you… but I was afraid to be you. And now because of these visions, I'm sometimes afraid to associate with you at all because it's bringing me closer to the inevitable."
Morticia felt terrible that her daughter was going through this.
But a small part of her was relieved… that is wasn't anything worse.
"Wednesday?" Morticia walked over to the bed, and sat down atop it, sideways. "Sit."
Wednesday got up from her chair and did as bade.
Morticia placed a porcelain, delicate hand on her daughter's leg. "Wednesday," She looked into her eyes. "I never… come heaven or highwater, would allow you to go through anything like I did. I would never allow you to be… traumatized, or brutalized or… used by those who love you… or say they do. Not if I have anything to do about it." She promised. "I went through all of that, not by choice. And I love Máma, more than she'll ever understand. But I didn't have a mother, for the first seventeen years of my life… that saw me and asked me if I was alright or how I truly felt after the death of my father. My mother and my sister -one of which who loved me- didn't show it after my father died. They didn't help me, or try to heal me; they utilized me." She stated. "I am never going to do that to you or to Pugsley. I learned, from that. I am going to let you two be children and be close. Like your father, I had… sibling-oriented issues, although they were vastly different from his. I have a feeling -as angry as I sometimes feel at your father's brother- that he loved him before he left." She sighed. "Wednesday, I don't want you to fear being like me. Being me exactly, is a reasonable fear but it isn't rational. You can't turn into me. You won't turn into me, whether or not you dress like me, walk, talk, act like me, or not. Either way, you're going to end up becoming an older, evolved version of yourself… with some things you learned from me that make that up." Morticia smiled at her. "You and I are quite similar and there is no denying that. But, darling, you are… different from me. Your eyes are exactly like mine but you have this beautiful, soulless glare that I could never have. You have some different interests. I liked chopping the heads off of my dolls, and so do you. But you also like to put them through Saw-like torture sessions. I would have been interested in that, but I was too busy reading dark poetry and practicing the fine art of taxidermy." She said. "That isn't all, there are many more. But, Wednesday… I am trying to let you know that every one of your differences are wonderful, and contribute to your overall uniqueness." Morticia sat, straight-backed. "I know that right now you're worried about being like me because you think, somehow, that will turn you into me." She took her hand, their nail colour of exactly the same shade… now exposed. "But no matter how similar or different you are, I can assure you that you won't. All I want to do, darling, is guide you, love you and prepare you for the rest of your life, whether or not it's anything like mine. I just want you to know that I hope you retain everything I've taught you… and you don't try to change what is like me. Because that also makes you, you."
Wednesday had shown more emotion in this conversation with her mother than she ever had in her life.
Close to tears, but not enough to let them out, she looked away and met her mother's eyes again.
And the chill was gone. The chill was gone for good.
Wednesday didn't know what to say just then.
So -yet again, out of character- she wrapped her arms around her mother, and she embraced her.
Morticia hugged her daughter back, holding her close and thanking everything there could possibly be to thank that she and Gomez had created their macabre, magnificent, beautiful, homicidal daughter.
"I want to be like you." Wednesday said.
Morticia smiled and held her closer. "Thank you, darling." She laughed. "I had hoped you would."
Then, soon, their hug was over.
But their conversation was not.
"Why did I see those visions?" Wednesday questioned.
"Well," Morticia began. "you likely had the visions because you were stressed. Meaning, you've been sneaking into the magick room and practicing, even though you haven't even turned thirteen yet."
Wednesday was back to being as monotone as ever once again. "I have. But, I have a good defense."
Morticia raised an eyebrow. "Mmm."
"Máma has been teaching me magick."
"What?" Morticia was shocked, yet unsurprised.
"She said you were alright with it." Wednesday replied. "I didn't ask, but her exact words were: Ah, you're old enough! Come on, honey, let's go learn some magick. Now, here's how to poison your neighbour, Tom the Jehovah's witness, without actually pouring into the tea he doesn't invite you to have. Then she paused and said: Don't worry, your mother's alright with it."
"Yes, well I have a feeling I'm going to need to use that poisoning spell on Máma if she continues to go behind my back." Morticia sighed. "All I want to do is teach my little girl black magick. Is that so hard of a request?"
"It seems fairly reasonable." Wednesday responded, honestly. She then played with her hands a bit and squinted, appearing to be rather upset.
"Are you alright, darling?" Morticia asked her.
"No, mother." Wednesday confessed. "Unfortunately, I've realized that I… miss Pugsley." She told her, tears now welling up in her eyes. "I miss him and I'm worried about him. I act like I can't stand him. And I can't. But I do… love him, he's my brother." She buried her head in her mother's shoulder to conceal the first few tears she had cried since she was an infant.
Morticia held her and kissed her forehead. "I know, Wednesday. I know. As do I, and your father… we all do." She felt her heart crack as her daughter's sobs became audible. "Shh, darling… it's alright. Pugsley is going to be alright. We are going to leave here with your brother, and you'll be playing Hide and Shriek just like you used to." She held her daughter tighter, her weeping still not subsiding.
She rubbed her back, planting a kiss atop her head.
Softly, then… Morticia began to sing.
"Oh, whistling, why are you feeling so shy?
Wind comes 'round at dusk and blows 'till night is nigh.
The wolves are hiding,
As drops of snow fall,
But I am so old,
I have lived through it all.
Child, don't cry,
I'll be there soon,
I'll never leave you for I am the moon."
….
Ambrosia (five-foot-six and thin with jet black hair and bright, red eyes) knelt before Regina and ran her tongue over her inner wrist; while Tacito (tall and of African descent with mesmerizing irises of an entrancing red shade) sucked on her neck.
"It's almost time." Ambrosia groaned.
"Mmm." Regina paid little mind to her words, seldom opening her eyes. "Less talking."
"I don't have to obey you." Ambrosia purred, seductively.
"Not yet." Regina smirked.
"How much longer must we wait?" Tacito asked against her skin.
"Not, much longer…" Regina turned her attention to Pugsley… eyes now, shut. "I have to go. But first," She looked back at Tacito. "Bite me."
"With pain." Tacito winked and bit down on her neck.
Regina half-sighed and half groaned, orgasmically as both he and Ambrosia fought for the small amount of blood, dripping from her bite.
"Ah… now, I have to go." Regina broke away and slowly walked toward Pugsley. "I have to… prepare, him for consummation." She eyed the vampires, practically attached to Pugsley. "Enough!" She commanded.
Most of them stopped immediately and looked at her.
Some didn't.
"Narkissa, Calidora, Khanis, Baldassare and Ciro, remove your tongues and/or teeth from him. Now!" Regina snapped, although her voice remained authoritative.
The vampires who's names had been called instantly did as they had been instructed and joined the hoard with the others.
Regina approached Pugsley, taking time in her long-legged strides.
She was close to him.
So… very, close to him.
"Open your eyes." She ordered, staring daggers into him. "Now."
Pugsley's eyes jolted open out of fear at the sound of her voice.
Regina smiled… her smile. "Excellent. You're not bad, are you?"
Pugsley's head rapidly moved up and down, attempting to stabilize his breathing.
"Their blood is always, sweeter when their compliant." Regina ran her hand down Pugsley's cheek, her eyes still staring into his. "Blood… flowing like a glorious red river, just under your skin." She paused. "Blood… what sustains life…" She gripped his chin. "But truly a waste of it." She abruptly removed her hand from his cheek, but not from his face.
Pugsley suppressed a gulp.
Regina noticed the sudden, small change in him. "You loved her, yes?"
Pugsley wished to look away; but where else would he have looked, if not into those red… burning eyes of hers?
He nodded.
"Mmm." Regina laughed, softly. "Love." Her nails lightly tapped his cheek. "It was once said: Love is the most exquisite form of self-destruction." She cocked her head. "That could very well be true. If love were anything more than a lie in itself."
Pugsley -despite his fear- stayed silent, not. He shook his head, in disagreement. "My parents love each other, and they-"
Regina stiffened, digging her nails into his cheek… hard.
Pugsley bit his lip in pain.
"Your parents, love each other. Do they?" Regina's tone was even; and she fought against her urge to grimace, in rage and disgust. "They love each other. And they love you… and your sister. Hmm?"
Pugsley said nothing.
Regina dug her nails in deeper (wishing to any power higher than she that blood could be drawn… and not out of lust), staring intently at him. "Answer me."
"Yes." Pugsley replied.
"I can see what Scarlett meant when she told me that you were naïve." Regina remarked.
"What do you mean?" Pugsley asked.
"I assumed she'd told you." Regina replied.
And although Regina was not looking at Scarlett… her daughter could feel her eyes, exactly on her.
"She's the reason you're here right now… strapped to the wall… staring up at what will soon be your demise." Regina said. "You knew that she had betrayed you. But were you fully aware of just how?"
Pugsley's heart hurt more than it already had.
She had used him the entire time! Not a single moment, of any of it… had been real? No. No, it couldn't be… true… and yet- yet here her mother was, telling him the real truth about her deceiving, destroying daughter.
And Pugsley wished to weep and never stop, at this realization.
She was just like Regina.
"It appears you weren't." Briefly, Regina's tone had been mocking. "You see, dear boy… love, it doesn't exist. And certainly, it won't save you." She shook her head. "No. Love's façade will be your destruction, and your blood will be your demise. And love… it isn't going to save you."
Pugsley was now breathing, heavily. Perspiration covered his body.
"Why?" He asked, his voice little more than a whisper.
"Why?" Regina raised an eyebrow, her nails and pale fingers running down his cheek. "We desire blood. We lust for it, and we don't deny it… we need it, to survive." She smirked. "Much like you do."
Pugsley gulped.
"Only, you won't have to worry about that much longer." Regina's burning cold statement was anything but reassuring.
Pugsley did not look away from her… not even as she walked off.
But he was now more afraid than he had ever been. Because deep down… deep down, in the frightened, fiery pits of his broken heart… he had a sinking feeling she was right.
….
The clouds had followed the group on their two-day journey to find him. They knew better than all of them, what the end result would be; however, they did not divulge.
They merely subtly alluded to what the future would hold. And from the colour… the darker, red colour of the atmosphere… it would certainly be no black parade. The only colours of the small band of death and revenge- the small band of blood… would be red. Dark red.
Morticia squeezed Gomez's hand, tightly.
Gomez kissed it. "We'll be there soon, my darling." He whispered.
"I know. I'm just…" Morticia sighed. "Every moment spent walking feels like an eternity."
Gomez nodded. "I understand, querida. Just remember: he is an Addams. He will be alright… and safe, as soon as we get to him." He assured her.
"Our Pugsley never was one to take things lying down." Morticia agreed.
"Exactly." Gomez pressed closer to her. "Tied to a chair and held at knifepoint, yes. But never lying down."
Morticia smiled.
Only he could make her do that, at a moment like this.
"Wednesday and her weapons." Morticia shook her head.
Gomez looked her in the eyes as they walked. "I'm worried to, Tish." He told her, as if she was not already aware.
"He'll be alright, Gomez." Morticia nodded, assuredly (despite she, herself, being very unsure). "But I'm not going to call the kettle black and tell blood not to be red." She said. "But we are going to go in there… and face that woman, and take back our son."
Gomez brought her hand to his lips once again. "You are the strongest woman I have ever met, and will ever meet, cara mia."
"Thank you, mon cher." Morticia closed her eyes, and sighed, her worry only tamed by her amour.
"What made you change your mind about Reeden Alley?" Rosary inquired to her beloved.
"I… just, have to learn to be more understanding." Ash replied. "I thought about everything you said, angel. And you're right… about all of it."
"Wow." Rosary smiled. "Admitting your wrongs and being open to change?" She laughed and kissed her. "I love you."
"I love you too, Rose." Ash took her hand.
"Ash?" Wednesday asked, evenly.
"Yea?" Ash answered.
"Look up." Wednesday stopped walking.
As did everyone else.
Every one of them looked up.
Nobody moved.
Nobody talked.
Nobody breathed.
A bloody, gothic, downsized palace.
Tall points with the sigil sign of Lucifer designed in blood red on top of them. Porcelain, black… seemingly, double doors with no line down the middle. A dangerously gloomy outer exterior that would make Dracula, himself, turn the other direction…
The Blood Castle.