Part Five: The Invitation
Morticia gazed at the distracted face of her only daughter. It'd been years since Wednesday had come to her mother for advice, so it had taken her by surprise to hear a knock at her bedroom door early that morning.
Morticia smiled, remembering how Wednesday's intrusion had irritated Gomez, who'd been counting on enjoying the dismal morning in bed with his wife. She remembered his face, deceptively calm, and his smile, forced a little too severely to be genuine, as he wished his daughter good morning and watched his wife slink and sway her way out of their room, heading downstairs to have a private breakfast with Wednesday. Morticia knew it was rotten to tease her husband so, but she knew well that a little pain always sweetened pleasure, and that her husband, in particular, thoroughly enjoyed both.
Shaking herself from her reverie, she returned her attention to Wednesday. She'd hardly spoken since she'd asked her mother for advice and breakfast, and, while Morticia had intended to let the girl think and assemble her thoughts, she now grew impatient.
"Wednesday, dear," Morticia said, "What do you need to ask me?"
Wednesday turned her eyes to her mother. Morticia saw they were wider than usual and a little glazed over, as if the girl hadn't slept. Concern creased her forehead – Wednesday had never worn a bewildered look in her life, and this morning she looked utterly disturbed.
Wednesday was trying to find the best way to word her questions for her mother so as to not arouse suspicion, but when she saw her mother's concerned face, she knew her expression had already given her away. She sighed heavily.
"Mother," Wednesday began, "I need some help, some clarification on matters potentially demonic in nature," she finished formally.
Morticia's eyes narrowed. She suspected Wednesday's need for advice had a much more mundane cause, but she played along – mostly.
"Demonic?" Morticia raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden interest in the supernatural, daughter? I was under the impression you did not believe in such things?"
Wednesday fidgeted in her chair. She answered grudgingly, "Well, I may have come across someone, I mean, something, that has suggested otherwise."
Morticia smiled, so it was a boy then. Having understood, she said, "Very well, what is your question?"
Wednesday held her mother's gaze before speaking, "What can die and yet not be dead?" she paused, "What are the possibilities?"
Morticia pondered momentarily and then shimmied to a nearby shelf in the adjacent library. Carrying a large volume, she returned to the small breakfast table. The book landed with a 'thud' and spewed huge quantities of dust over the table. Ruffling through pages, Morticia finally came to stop and muttered, "Ah yes."
She looked at Wednesday pensively. "I can think of three possibilities, though there may be more. Perhaps you could describe this someone, I mean, something to me and I could tell you which it is."
Wednesday squirmed. "Perhaps you could outline the three options instead?"
Morticia's eyes twinkled; she'd taught her daughter well.
"Very well." Morticia looked down at the book and then met her daughter's eyes again. "Well, I'm quite sure it's not the first option. I doubt you'd have any trouble discerning a zombie if you saw one."
"A zombie?" Wednesday asked skeptically.
"Well, yes. But then again, they truly are dead. Just reanimated corpses wandering around under the spell of a magician or witch."
Just then Mama tottered through the room. Morticia added, "If I remember rightly, Mama was once quite fond of them. Right Mama?"
Mama looked up, confused. "Fond of what, dear?"
"Zombies," Morticia answered.
Mama cackled. "Oh yes! The dear things. I made one for my sister when we were younger. Oh she had a ball with it, until the thing broke her neck and started eating her hair. Ah, those were the days!" Mama continued out of the room, giggling and talking to herself about the old days.
Wednesday smirked at Mama's story, but sobered up, still hoping to learn what Joel had become.
Morticia continued, "The other two options are similar in some ways, but different in others. The first, the demon, is composed of an evil soul or spirit that can move about on earth by possessing a body, either currently inhabited or recently vacated. The second, the vampire, is composed of a soul whose body has been poisoned and made into something evil. In the case of the vampire, the body is poisoned and seems to die, and so ejects the soul. But, the sire pulls the soul back into the poisoned body, back into life. So what died ceases to be dead.
So, in a strange sense, they are opposites, though they may appear similar."
Wednesday was deep in thought, trying to put the pieces together in her mind.
Morticia could practically hear the wheels turning in Wednesday's head, and impatience at learning the motivation behind Wednesday's question was driving her mad. Finally, she asked, "Wednesday, who is it?"
Morticia's question startled Wednesday, so when she looked up, she forgot to censor her expression. As it was, Morticia saw the answer she needed all over Wednesday's face.
"It's love," she thought. "Wednesday's in love." Morticia gasped. And then smiled.
Wednesday's eyes narrowed, a perfect imitation of her mother. "It's not what you think," she said.
Morticia shrugged and rose to leave. Over her shoulder, she added, "Invite him over for dinner sometime, I should like to meet him."
Wednesday scowled at her mother's retreating form. Dammit, she thought. Closing her eyes, she sighed heavily. Returning to the matter at hand, she redirected her attention to the book her mother had left open on the table. Though she didn't really need to double check, she read and reread the passages on the difference between a demon and a vampire. She didn't need to check, she already knew what Joel had become as soon as her mother had said it, but she checked anyway – stalling time before she had to decide what this information meant for her.
Meanwhile, across town, Joel woke with a start when he heard knocking at his door. Lifting his head from his pillow, he managed, "No housekeeping, thank you," before fatigue dropped his head back into the downy billows.
After a pause, the knocking began again. Joel had just about decided to ignore it and let the knocker piss off, but then a strange, vague feeling reached him. Less than a scent, less than a premonition, but perhaps a mixture of the two, a strange impulse, like déjà vu, overcame him and – growling – he climbed out of bed to open the door.
The impulse grew stronger as he approached the door. He quested out with his senses. He smelled a hint of adrenaline and testosterone. The scent of his visitors was unfamiliar, but, with a smile, he noticed some familiar elements. Scents of poison oak, henbane, mold, earth, and dust reached him and he suddenly knew the identities of his visitors. So it was with a half-smile that he opened the door and gazed into the fierce and determined faces of Pugsley and Pubert.
"Hey guys," Joel said, choking back a laugh as Pugsley and Pubert's jaws dropped in unison. He waited for them to regain composure.
Pugsley was the first to recover, "Joel?" he asked, astonished.
"Yea, hey Pugsley," Joel said delicately, "It's me."
Pubert, looking betrayed, turned on his brother, "You know this guy?"
Pugsley never took his eyes off Joel, but answered, "Yea, but it was years ago."
Joel felt awkward under Pugsley and Pubert's scrutiny, so he asked, "Um, do you guys wanna come in?"
Pugsley stared, but Pubert spoke, "Yes, Mr. Joel, or whoever you are, we need to speak with you." Head held high, Pubert marched past Joel into the motel room.
Joel smirked, and clapped Pugsley on the shoulder, effectively breaking his trance and ushering him into the room.
Unused to having guests, Joel paced his room awkwardly, picking up and throwing clothing into the corners of the room and clearing off chairs for his guests. Once they were seated, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, and said, "So, what's up guys? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but judging by your surprised faces, I'm guessing you weren't expecting to see me here."
Pubert began, "We were tracking down the person who has been badgering our sister with unwanted phone calls." Pubert crossed his arms across his chest and stared at Joel, daring him to contradict.
Much to Pubert's annoyance, Joel laughed. "Yea," he said between chuckles, "that'd be me." He sobered up, "Did Wednesday complain about me?"
At Pubert and Pugsley's guilty looks, Joel understood, "Ha, no, she wouldn't have. Well, I'm impressed. How did you find me?"
Pubert, looking extremely proud of himself, explained, "Actually it was too easy. We simply got your number off Wednesday's phone, and Pugsley drew up a program to trace your phone's signal, and Voila! Here we are," Pubert ended with a flourish.
Joel's eyes strayed to Pugsley who was still sitting as if shell-shocked. "Pugsley?" Joel asked. "You alright?"
Instead of answering, Pugsley turned to Pubert, "Hey, do me a favor, okay kid? Go down and check the meter by the car. I think I put too much money in." He threw the keys to Pubert, "Go ahead and move the car to an expired one. See if you can scratch a few cars in the process. I'll be down in a minute."
Pubert raised one eyebrow. He knew Pugsley was just trying to get rid of him, but he was placated by the chance to drive the car. Pubert loved driving. Especially when he could scratch other cars. He left, nearly skipping the whole way.
Once they were alone, Pugsley turned his eyes on Joel. No longer shell-shocked, Pugsley looked calculating, accusing even. He leaned forward in his chair and leaned his muscular arms on his knees.
Joel tried to play it cool, "What's up Pugsley? You look like you've seen a ghost or something," Joel smirked.
Pugsley's eyes widened fractionally. "Well, now that you mention it, Joel. I've been thinking the same thing. Last time I checked," he paused, "you were dead."
Joel closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he forced a smile, "Dead, huh? That's –"
Pugsley cut him off. "What're you doing here, Joel? What do you want with Wednesday?" His voice wasn't accusing, just cold and perhaps a little sad.
His question and his voice caught Joel off guard, and so, he answered honestly, "I don't know." He dropped his head into his hands. "It's like I can't stay away. It was reckless to come back, I know, but I've been dreaming of coming back since I was sent away, and now…" he looked up and sighed, "well, now I'll be damned if I waste time dreaming when I should be living."
The two men sat in silence for a moment. Finally, Pugsley seemed to thaw a little, "Fair enough," he said. He managed a tiny, wicked-looking smile, "Bet Wednesday freaked when she saw you, huh?" He chuckled.
Joel grinned a little too, "Yea, a bit. But, to be honest, I was playing it up a bit." He smiled outright, "She'll never admit it though."
Pugsley smiled in response. "I gotta say man, I mean it's a good look, but I never thought I'd see you looking so… grim. That must have been one Hell of a school out there."
To this, Joel did not smile, "Yea. You could say that."
Pugsley nodded to himself, as if confirming a theory in his head.
With a sigh, Pugsley rose and extended his hand to Joel. "Well, I'd better get going. It was good to see you again Joel. Come on by for dinner or something."
Joel rose also and clasped Pugsley's hand. Pugsley gaze down at their hands, feeling Joel's hard, muscular grip, and noticed a long, deep scar up the inside of Joel's left arm as it hung loosely at his side. In his haste to open the door, Joel had forgotten to cover his arms. Pugsley met Joel's eyes again before breaking the handshake and heading for the door.
In the doorway, he turned back, a smile on his face, "Oh, by the way, let's keep this little meeting between us – if Wednesday finds out we were here, she'll cut me to pieces." His face sobered up a bit, "Literally."
Joel smiled, "No problem. See you later Pugsley."
As Pugsley disappeared down the hall, Joel climbed back into bed, wondering what this new development might mean.