Part Two: Dark Secrets

It was 3am. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand and put his hands under the near-scalding water. He watched as the blood from his hands swirled in the draining water like red-brown ribbons. When the water ran clear, he washed his face and raised his eyes to gaze at the face in mirror.

He sighed heavily. He barely recognized the face he saw there. Pale and fierce, his sharp features, straight nose, and strong chin, mocked him. And the eyes. Though it'd been years, he couldn't get used to them. He allowed himself one more second of nostalgia and self-pity before shaking his head to clear his thoughts, standing tall, and flashing a half-hearted attempt at his lazy, cocky smile.

It didn't reach his eyes, which still mocked him in their alienness. He sighed again and then stalked off to get some sleep.

In the Addams' mansion, Pubert had decided to confide in Pugsley about Wednesday's mystery caller. He'd spent the week since he'd overheard her spying on her more intensively, but he hadn't discovered anything more about the mystery caller. He was about to give up, but he had a strange feeling about it, so he knocked on Pugsley's door.

"Pugsley?" Pubert called.

"Come on in, Pubert," came Pugsley's reply.

The little boy took a last quick look down the hallway before bounding in the room and closing the door behind him.

Pugsley gazed at Pubert, confusion contorting his face. "What's up, kid?"

Pubert straightened out his hair and mustache before answering, "I come to you with a delicate matter, brother. I could use your assistance."

Pugsley laughed, "You know as well as anyone how good I am with 'delicate' matters." He laughed again, "Maybe you should try Wednesday."

Pubert didn't answer but raised an eyebrow and stared meaningfully at Pugsley.

After a moment, Pugsley said, "Ah." He immediately sobered up and became business-like, "Ok, so it is information you need, or a request?"

Pubert answered, "Well, in this case, I think it's a bit of both."

Down the hall, Wednesday Addams was seeking out information as well. Only, rather than confide in her brothers, she sought the assistance of the Internet.

The mystery of this new Joel Glicker gnawed at her. It was as if she'd swallowed a dozen snakes and they were now biting at her insides trying to rip their way out.

She dug under her bed for the last correspondence she'd had with Joel. A few weeks after she'd scared him to death in their cemetery, she'd received a letter from him stating that his parents were shipping him off to a boarding school on the West Coast and that they'd been keeping him from seeing her since their last encounter. He promised to think of her everyday and to write whenever he could. Wednesday got out the letter, not to reminisce, but because she was sure he'd written the name of the school on there.

Ah, there it was. "The Stockhaven School for Troubled Youth," she said the name aloud, tasting its bitterness on her tongue. "What a perfectly wretched name," she thought, imagining that being exposed to troubled youth might have changed Joel from the spineless wimp he was into the… well, into whatever he was now.

She typed into Google, "Stockhaven School," and using all of the hacking skills she'd developed over the years, hacked into the school's database, news archive, and other records, searching for any hint of what kind of school it was and what Joel's place was in it.

The first few hits brought up nothing of interest. She found blog entries from parents gushing about how the school changed their child's life, blah, blah, blah, and news reports of all of the school's good deeds within the community.

But then, stranger hits began to appear. About three years after Joel had begun attending the school, all the newspaper articles from around that time talked about strange happenings around the area. Three students from the school were found dead in a nearby river, an elderly couple near the school went missing, and, weirdest of all, shortly after the violence began, the school burned to the ground, killing 8 people - 7 students and a teacher.

At this point, Wednesday nearly fell out of her chair, because, listed among the dead was none other than Joel Glicker.

She printed out the page and then searched for any other hits for Joel Glicker. She remembered wondering why Joel's parents had left the area, but she'd been away at school at the time and when she came home, she just assumed they'd moved.

She found one small line in the obituary section of the local paper online that spoke of Joel Glicker's death, but that was all.

She turned her computer off with a 'humph.' Unfortunately, her fact-finding mission had left her with more questions than answers. She puzzled over what to do next.

She figured she had two options:

One, continue to ignore him, refuse to see him, and tell him to stay the hell away from her. Wednesday might enjoy pain and torture, but she was no fool, and she certainly wasn't one to put herself in danger, especially when that danger stemmed from being at the mercy of someone else. She marveled at her father and brother's ability to enjoy pain at the mercy of someone else; she hated being vulnerable.

She knew she took after her mother in that sense. Except, Morticia found pleasure in giving up her power to Gomez on occasion. Wednesday shuddered at the thought. She loved her father and mother, and knew beyond a doubt that they were perfect for each other, but she couldn't imagine giving up her power to anyone, even if she loved him.

She could do that, she thought. Just ignore him and tell him to piss off. Keep the power, stay safe – and it would hurt him, she imagined. That might be nice.

But then… she'd never know the answer to the mystery. He'd be gone, taking his secrets with him. He was definitely hiding something. Something big. Something dark. Dammit, she thought. Now he's suddenly interesting to her, intriguing even. Was it because he was so much stronger, darker, scarier? Or was it because he wasn't running away – he wasn't scared of her anymore?

Ha! She thought. She could make him scared. There'd never been a person she couldn't scare away yet (save for her family, of course).

A little voice in her head whispered, I don't know; he didn't seem very scared. This one is different…

Yes, this one was different. Whether that was good or bad, Wednesday didn't know.

She pondered her second option - follow the rabbit-hole a little deeper, unravel the mystery. She immediately felt a yearning in her stomach, a burning desire. Not one to give in to impulse, she tried to say objective. Following the rabbit-hole could be dangerous. She stomach turned in knots as she remembered the sickening feeling of being pinned up against her car, helpless against his iron strength. It had been terrifying.

But then again, the little voice insisted, he didn't actually hurt you. And his body…

Wednesday cut off her own mind, refusing to indulge in sexual fantasy at a time like this. She sighed heavily and dropped her head in her hands. She felt utterly and completely trapped – and it was not a feeling she enjoyed. She was beyond annoyed with herself, sitting here, locked in her room, brooding over some guy who had just showed up and thrown her whole outlook on life completely out of whack. She should be planning her next torture for her brothers or working out a good way to get Mr. Baker the biology teacher back for calling on her when her hand wasn't up that last day of class. But no! She realized suddenly that she was just like all of the ridiculous girls at her school whose whole lives revolved around one boy or another. The urge to vomit nearly overcame her, but she swallowed it down.

Dammit all, she thought, and she rose, heading for her door to rejoin her family and try to regain some semblance of the Wednesday who wasn't afraid of stupid boys.

Just as she reached her door and touched the handle, her phone rang.

She felt as though her blood had frozen in her veins. Without thinking, she raised her phone to her ear. She didn't speak.

"Care to take a walk with me tonight?" Joel's soft, raspy voice asked, seductively.

Wednesday didn't know what to say, which was good, considering that she found that she had no ability to move her mouth at all.

Joel's low voice chuckled softly. "Come now Wednesday, you're not doing well at all at pretending you're not afraid of me," he chided.

As her temper flared, she found she could speak. "It seems some of us are better at pretending than others." She paused. "I didn't receive an invitation."

Wednesday's statement was greeted with a long pause as Joel registered the meaning of her words. "I see," he said finally, a new emotion evident in his voice. Wednesday tried to place it – Resignation? Regret? She waited impatiently for his next words, hoping to pinpoint that emotion.

Finally, he said, "I guess you have a few questions for me." His voice was cold now, controlled.

She didn't answer.

He spoke again, "I'll be out behind Uncle Imar's tombstone at midnight tonight - Don't worry," he cut her off before she could protest, "I won't be seen."

Wednesday heard the phone click as he hung up.