Wednesday

Nightmare, Thy Name Is Enid

Chapter 1

The night air crackled and popped with the sounds and smells of burning wood. The sky was alight with the orange glow that spoke of an unwilling and agonising end. The shouting and jeering of a village's worth of Puritans who'd turned out to witness the event was an unintelligible wall of noise that was impossible to make sense of. Not that it mattered. There was very little sense coming from the mouths of their kind as it was. Such was the way of the zealot. The ego of the human condition meant they saw divinity in anything that forced them to look up. But should anything not conform to this way of thought- dare to be different from the norm even slightly- it was seen as an abomination. And they would suffer not the abomination to live.

The crowd suddenly parted to allow their leader through. A man whose status was marked by a top hat, a staff and a cloak. Ironically, history's most hated witch hunter actually looked more like one of the magicians of the modern day. Such a thought would be almost laughable if not for the current predicament. And as she was reminded of such, the young witch in question started struggling against the ropes that bound her to the stake atop what would shortly be her funeral pyre if she didn't find a way out of this mess.

Joseph Crackstone approached the table near the pyre. Strapped down to it was a second girl. One in an old style nightgown of the period but with the pink and blue hair highlights the seer was so familiar with. Her eyes were wide with raw fear as she also struggled against her restraints. But the silver chains holding her down made her powerless to resist.

"This abomination hath opened her legs for the devil!" Crackstone proclaimed, pointing to the girl tied to the stake. His words set off another round of hateful remarks from the crowd. "She hath lain with another woman and practised the arts of the arcane!" He was working the crowd into a frenzy and was doing so expertly. "And she was not alone! Another joined her in nursing the loins of Lucifer! One who hath been afflicted with the lunar curse!" His attention turned back to the girl on the table. The girl at the pyre renewed her struggle, but it did nothing to lessen the futility of it.

"Leave her alone!" she screamed. If she could just pull some attention to herself and away from the girl, it might give her a few precious second to do something. Literally anything. Unfortunately, Crackstone's focus didn't waver.

"Bring it to me." At his command, someone came over holding a contraption the girl had seen before. A metal bowl suspended by two chains that ended in hand grips. Inside it was oil that burned with bright blue flames and a handle that was sticking out the side, held in place by a metal hand guard that glowed bright orange in the heat. Crackstone reached for it, withdrawing a dagger. The oil clinging to the blade allowed it to burn with the same blue flames as the brazier. He held it up for the crowd to see, their mutters carrying a note of sick intrigue rather than revulsion. The girl on the table had started trying to thrash as much as she could, but she was only expending more energy.

"Stay back you colonist creep!" she screamed, her eyes going wide with fear. "Wednesday! Help me!"

Her screams were ignored by the laughing and booing of the people. Wednesday couldn't see what happened as he brought it gliding in, but the ripping of fabric which burned as it fell away followed by the screaming so agonised that it bordered on inhuman told her all it needed to. The sound rang in her ears and invaded her brain so viciously that it blasted through her mental defences instantly. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she automatically screwed her eyes shut. A high-pitched sound reached her ears. It took a second to realise it was her own screaming. She'd never done it before. She'd never heard it until this night.

Everything halted abruptly as the world spun sideways. It took a second for the sensation of the strike to register, but she barely felt it over everything else going on. She was powerless to resist as a pudgy-faced local gripped her head with one hand holding her braids while the other held her chin. He held her in place, forcing her to look ahead at the table where Crackstone was still cutting and the girl was still screaming.

"Patience, witch." His tone was almost mocking. "First her, then you."

She didn't have the strength left to try and pull away. Try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. She could just about see the girl's face. If this was her last time seeing someone she loved so dearly, then every instinct was telling her to drink in every detail. But not like this. Not with her suffering in this unspeakable way. The two conflicting thoughts waged war in her head, scrambling her thoughts into an indecipherable mess. Among it all, there was only one that was clear. One final name that escaped her mouth in a desperate, all-consuming scream.

"Enid!"

Wednesday's eyes snapped open. The bedroom was lit up by the almost full moon in the night sky, the baleful white light through her side of the window contrasting heavily with the full spectrum on Enid's. Usually, the sight of the colours made her want to orally exsanguinate herself. But on this night she couldn't be happier to see them. Yet she was happier still when they were blocked out by a figure. The human shape of a slender young werewolf. Her room mate. And Wednesday's eyes were more than accustomed enough to the darkness to make out the concern on her face.

There was good reason for her concern. Throughout the impromptu and extended break, Wednesday had been plagued with nightmares of an uniformly undesirable nature. While they varied in terms of setting and events, all of them involved Enid in some capacity. Wednesday had been careful to hide it. Ever since her return she'd kept herself especially guarded. When the entire school had witnessed their hug after she'd vanquished the zombie Pilgrim, the secret had officially been out: she'd come to care for Enid Sinclair. If there was an aspiring poet who dared make a verse of that, it would be their last.

But more to the point, the extent of that caring had been something she'd pondered over for a while now. Yet the closer she got to an answer, the worse the nightmares were becoming. This was her most visceral yet. Everything in there had felt so real. The urge to reach up and wipe flecks of ash from her skin was there. She could still feel the intense heat making the nerve endings in her face prickle. Almost as if it had been no ordinary dream. More like a physical manifestation of her inner fear. The concept of having an internalised fear alone was something she was completely unused to. Unfortunately, that meant she had no clue how to defend against it.

"Wednesday?" The gothic witch's head snapped over at dizzying speed to see the object of her concealed emotions standing right next to her. The moonlight reflected off her hair making it shine almost as silver as the moon itself. Her skin looked so pale that it almost glowed. It reminded Wednesday of masterfully-sculpted ceramic and the temptation was there to get up and wrap one of her blankets around her for fear she might shatter on the spot. And that thought alone had Wednesday kicking herself. Why? Why was she feeling like this?

"It was just a nightmare." Wednesday shook her head gently and rubbed her face. She could still feel the sensation of hot ash there. Had she hypersensed like at the old meeting house? No. This had been different. This wasn't some vision of the past or some prophecy. This was a manifestation of her fear. Plain and simple.

"And how often does that happen?" Enid's voice was dry as she turned around and sat down on the edge of the bed. Wednesday could feel her heart speeding up from the proximity and knew the werewolf would be able to hear it. Sure enough, the concern on Enid's face said it all.

"Actually, a nightmare in itself is a fairly common occurrence." Wednesday said, trying to deflect. "I had a particularly enjoyable one once as a child where we were in a soft play area that was fenced off with netting and there was someone at the front with a basket. Whenever he named an organ, we had to rip that organ out of someone else or ourselves and put it in the basket. First one to put it in the basket was excused from the next round. Although I always opted back in because I was in it for the violence. Because of that, no one ever got excused."

Somehow, Enid was now looking decidedly paler in the moonlight. She shifted uncomfortably and the bed springs creaked as the mattress shifted. As it did, Wednesday found herself tilting slightly and couldn't help but feel warmth on her face again. But this time it wasn't the needling burn of ash baking itself into the pores of her skin. This time it was the gentle caress of the teen wolf's body heat. It swept over her in a way that was certifiably dangerous in how intoxicating it was.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm getting much sleep after that." Enid muttered as she ran a hand through her bed head and turned back to Wednesday. "I almost hesitate to ask, but what was it about this time?"

Wednesday felt a chill creep down her back. What had it been about? It had been about Joseph Crackstone exposing them as lovers to an entire Puritan town and then proceeding to perform the rite of 'purification' reserved for werewolves on Enid while she watched. How the hell could she explain that?

"Uh... It was..." Dammit, she'd hesitated. Something she never usually did. Now if she tried to cover it up, Enid would know she was lying. "Let's just say it wasn't the usual sort of nightmare. Not in the least bit pleasurable." Enid let out a breath of that. Clearly Wednesday hadn't said what she'd wanted to hear.

"Okay." She turned properly and their eyes met for a brief second. In the silver light of the moon, her eyes shone green in a manner identical to the pureblood wolves that the power of lycanthropy was said to have originated from. The light was almost entrancing, drawing Wednesday in so deeply- so effortlessly- that she almost forgot to pay attention to her room mate's words. "If you don't want to tell me or you're not ready, that's fine. We'll give it some time. Besides, you clearly need to decompress." That she did. It wasn't an admission Wednesday made lightly, but she was wound tight as a rubber band at that moment. "Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?" Enid asked.

At the question, Wednesday stopped cold. She was Wednesday Addams! She wasn't some child who was too innocent to cope on her own or too scared to confront the monster under her bed! If it fell into line quick enough, she might even remember to feed it on occasion. But all that was immaterial. She had her own bed and she was capable of sleeping in it unassisted!

Wednesday nodded. She didn't know why she did it. She didn't know where the impulse came from. What she did know, however, was that it was an honest answer. If anything, as Enid slid her hand over and interlocked their fingers before beginning to gently massage Wednesday's knuckles with her thumb, she found herself cursing that aspect the most. Beforehand, lying to or manipulating Enid would have been as easy as it would have to do it to anyone else. But for some reason, Wednesday had gone on to regret it last time she'd done it. In fact, it had blossomed into a self-loathing. Now she couldn't bring herself to do it again.

How one werewolf could inspire such weakness in a person was beyond her. And it was far beyond just giving puppy dog eyes. Only in recent days, had Wednesday seen a pair of eyes as mesmerising as Enid's, she would have cut them out of the creature that possessed them and preserved them for her eyeball collection. After the nightmare she'd just had, the very notion of such a thought made her want to vomit.

"What?" Enid's voice carried a note of laughter. Her usual infuriatingly bubbly smile hadn't budged an inch. Her eyes sparkled with the mischief of an internal debate. Mesmerising indeed. Only too late did Wednesday realise she'd been staring.

"Apologies." Her voice was heavy yet hushed as she tore her gaze away and rolled onto her back. She firmly fixed her gaze to the ceiling, resolving not to do that again. If Enid was her candle in the dark and she was to be the moth to the flame, the response was simple: just don't look into the light. "I am tired." A half truth. She was tired but her mind was racing.

"Here." Enid said, rolling left and partially overlapping Wednesday. "If you're having trouble feeling secure, this should help you." Wednesday barely heard her. The witch's heart was hammering in her chest as blood pounded in her ears. She could hear Crackstone's words from the nightmare ringing through the halls of her mind.

'And she was not alone! Another joined her in nursing the loins of Lucifer!'

Could there have been some level of projection in her nightmare? Granted, she didn't exactly want to 'nurse the loins of Lucifer'. Even for her, that concept wasn't exactly appealing. But the implication of those words... In Crackstone's time, such a thing would have been said as a direct result of two men or women laying together. It had been seen that opposites attracted and all else was sin. Punishable by burning at the stake. And as much as Wednesday itched to debate the hypocrisy of something that taught 'Thou Shalt Not Kill' as a basic tenet and then proceeded to have wars fought and genocides enacted in its name, that was an entirely different internal dilemma for another time. For now, she was caught in the loop of wondering how she'd gone from detesting Enid and everything she stood for to wanting to fall into the oceanic turquoise of her eyes and pull her closer, clinging to every patch of skin she could reach. The precise reason why having her this close wasn't exactly good for her health.

"Wh-" Wednesday was lost for words as Enid looped one arm over her to pull her closer. "What are you doing?" she managed to ask breathlessly.

"Weighted blanket, dummy!" Enid nuzzled in and Wednesday's chest felt like something was ready to burst out of it like some old horror movie. "I'll keep you warm and keep you protected from the nightmares. If you get too hot and bothered, let me know and I'll ease off." Hot and bothered? Was it possible that Enid was aware of just how much effect she was having right now? Truly it was hard to say. The grin was pretty much ubiquitous in all situations. She was a werewolf. She would be able to hear the teenage witch's heartbeat effortlessly. Although it was so strong right now that Wednesday was surprised it hadn't bounced Enid clean from the bed.

"It-" Wednesday faltered. Despite her best efforts, it was like a grenade had gone off in her head. Scattered pieces of thoughts were falling like debris all over the place and now she was having to run around with the sweeping brush and the super glue to try and form something coherent again. "It's a step outside my comfort zone but I suppose I can work with it."

Amazingly, when Wednesday closed her eyes and started her usual sleep ritual of counting the seconds until inactivity lapsed into unconsciousness, she found she was actually able to get some sleep. She didn't remember the exact moment she crossed into true REM. But when she woke up, she felt truly rested for the first time since the start of the nightmares.

Author's Note: This is a short story inspired by a request from Invader Johnny. Just to be clear, I don't usually take requests. This one caught my attention, though. It was an interesting concept that was originally suggested as a oneshot. I thought that would be under-selling it somewhat since it wouldn't get the breathing room it needed to develop properly in the ways it needed to. I therefore turned it into a short multi-chapter. I will be getting into more details on upcoming projects at the end, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy the story. As always, please feel free to review and let me know what you think. All feedback is welcome.