Dear Readers, Thank you so much for your continued support and patience. As I promised, there will be more chapters! Pinky Promise. :) ~TLD

Part Twenty-Eight: Numquam Subiecta

"Mother?" Pubert's voice was small in the darkened room.

She was corpse-pale, and just as still. And yet… Pubert crept further into the room, coming to stand beside his mother's bedside, his black moustache quivering on his trembling lips.

"Mother?" he called again, his whisper hitching on a strangled sob."Mother, please wake up."

The little boy climbed up into his father's vacated chair and, leaning over the space toward his mother, took her cold fingers in his hand. "Rêve-toi, Maman," he crooned, his French as flawless as his mother's. "Je t'aime."

"Well, what a charming sight this is," Lilith cooed, her voice edged with cruelty. Joel and Wednesday stood, their backs to the wall, fingers intertwined, looking defiantly at the assembled vampires with fire in their eyes. To Lilith, it was almost as beautiful as it was comical. Children, she thought indulgently, they have no idea.

"The two love birds, back together again," Lilith sang. Chuckles from the surrounding vampires flitted around the stone cell.

Joel tensed under her scrutiny, his eyes bouncing from her to Ethan on her left, and Melody and Veronica hovering in the still open doorway, his brain frantically trying to calculate the odds to blowing past them all to freedom. He scowled. It wasn't looking good.

Wednesday's voice broke into his calculations. "And what, exactly, is the reason you've brought us here?" she asked, her voice bored. "Certainly not to admire our good looks?" she added, her raised eyebrow mocking their captors.

"No, no," Lilith replied, her voice jocular. "Though," she shot Joel an appreciative glance, "that is an added bonus." The corner of her lips turned up in a seductive pout.

Wednesday's hand tightened on Joel's possessively. Lilith smirked.

"No," she continued, "you are here to help me bring to fruition a dream of mine. One that has been in the works for hundred of years." Her smile was beatific as she glanced between Joel and Wednesday. Joel felt the knot in his stomach tighten and writhe.

"We won't help you," Wednesday replied firmly, her voice cold and empty. She released Joel's hand, stepping toward Lilith, her pale face devoid of all emotion, the haunted depths of her black eyes betraying nothing. Joel felt his skin tingle at the sight of her. So vulnerable, so small, but so determined, so deadly – she was incredible.

Lilith's eyes lit up with the challenge. "No?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with humor. "You must think me so silly, so naïve to think that I could simply demand your assistance without applying the proper leverage."

Wednesday stilled, but her face betrayed nothing. "Silly me, but I thought you might appreciate the gravity of your situation on your own, my dear Wednesday," Lilith added, her voice condescending. "Surely Joel already has."

Joel felt the eyes of the room on him, his body heating despite the chill, a sudden warring of emotions filling him. Wednesday stared resolutely at Lilith, her back set against him. "Isn't that right, my pet," Lilith cooed, reaching out to Joel. He remained where he was, rooted in place by an irrational wave of shame. He beat it back. He'd already made his decision. Save Wednesday. That was all that mattered, now.

"I'll help you," Joel answered stiffly, desperately trying to ignore Wednesday's flinch at the sound of his voice. "If," he added haltingly, catching Lilith's smile, "You release Wednesday. Let her go, and…" he paused, swallowing, "I'm yours."

He couldn't see her face, but Joel thought he saw Wednesday's shoulders sag the slightest amount. Sadness? Shame? He couldn't know. Couldn't care. This was his only last fleeting hope. It Lilith had kept Wednesday as merely leverage to buy Joel's obedience, well, maybe he could give her what she wanted and spare Wednesday.

Lilith's laugh cut off his train of thought. "Oh Joel," she chided, "we already made that bargain, remember? Your loyalty in exchange for sparing you the agony," she rolled her eyes, "of draining her dry." She gestured to the blood streak on the floor where the girl had been dragged away. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten your latest meal? Surely a girl as pretty as that must have left some impression? Was she as sweet as she looked, Joel?" Her eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure. "You always did have something of a sweet tooth. Though, I can't say I'd have picked her over this one," she added, looking Wednesday up and down, licking her hungry lips with a delicate pink tongue.

Joel was shaking. Lilith's words were torture, of course, but what was worse was Wednesday's resolute back to him. She didn't so much as flinch as Lilith gestured to the blood stain, as she revealed how she'd broken him, how he cowed to her demands, given in to the monster.

Lilith's words hit him as though from far away. "A moving gesture, I'm sure you'd agree," she said, eyes resting on Wednesday, who showed no hint of having heard her. "But," she caught Joel's eye and smirked, "on the whole, unnecessary." When his eyes widened, she continued, "You see, Joel darling, I have no intention of letting Wednesday go. In fact, she is to be the guest of honor."

She smiled into Joel's horror-stricken face.

"Pubert?" Gomez poked his head in the doorway, catching sight of his youngest son, tears streaming silently down his face, murmuring bits of broken French, his little fingers clutching his mother's motionless hand.

"Son?" he said louder, coming to kneel beside the sobbing child. "Now there," he murmured, his arm draped over Pubert's small shoulders. "Everything's alright, Old Chap," he whispered. "No need for such tears."

"But-" Pubert coughed, his bloodshot eyes pouring into his father, "but, she won't wake."

"But of course she will, son," Gomez's jovial voice was diminished, but only slightly, by the trauma of the evening. "She's an Addams, is she not?"

"She is," Pubert muttered, wiping tears from his face.

"And you know our family credo, don't you, son?" Gomez said, bracingly, a sturdy pat on Pubert's shoulder. "Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc," he finished proudly.

"We gladly feast on those who would," Pubert hiccupped, his voice raw, "subdue us."

"That's my boy," Gomez crooned, holding his youngest tightly in his arms. "Now go on downstairs and help your brother."

"Yes, Father," Pubert replied, slightly cheered, as he slumped out of the room.

Gomez settled into Pubert's vacated chair, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his wife's brow. "Nos numquam subiecta," he whispered, almost to himself.

"Gomez?" Morticia's soft voice crackled like the rustling of papers.

"Cara?" Gomez whispered, incredulous. He stared down at her, her long liquid eyes fluttering open as soft gasping breaths pulsed against her bright blood colored lips.

"Gomez," she whispered, her breathing slowing to a more relaxed rhythm, a slight curl forming her lips. "That was Latin."

"Aye, Querida," Gomez smiled, "There's nothing quite like the pull of a dead language." He smirked, the casual smile only barely hiding the tears of joy in his eyes.

"Particularly when it is expertly resurrected by such a talented tongue," Morticia purred, only the slightest rasp in her voice hinting to her recent near death experience.

"I've missed you, my love," said Gomez, his voice straining against the rushing of emotions within him.

"And I've missed you, mon amour," Morticia replied breathlessly.

"Ah, Tish," Gomez gasped, familiar tingles coursing through him, "That's French!"

Morticia's answering "Oui" was drowned out by the flood of Gomez's desperate kisses.

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