Chapter Text
It had been a gift from members of the Addams family that resided in Ireland, given to Wednesday on her 11th birthday. An ancient Celtic artifact, thrumming with power. Able to summon the spirits of the dead as easily as one would clip a rose.
Looking at it made Morticia nostalgic for the old days. When you’d have to raid a farmers market for ingredients, desecrate a grave, sacrifice a goat and draw runes made from ash across your body. Good times, with good friends.
When had she gotten together with some of her old coven to do such a thing? Not since Pugsley had been born by her reckoning. Far too busy raising her children, helping Mama when she could with her mortuary business and being lost in Gomez’s eyes. Perhaps she would try to get in touch again soon, time permitting.
But it wasn’t all bad, Morticia thought. It kept the children close by and safe, more than once she had the misfortune of meeting a charity collection at those farmer markets. Horrid.
Still, looking at them now with their eyes glued to the thing, as if it held the answers to life itself, Morticia had to wonder.
“I worry…is this too much tablet time?”
Gomez chuckled, reading through the funny pages of the local newspaper. A particular line got his attention, making him laugh loudly. He cleared his throat, reading it aloud for Thing to hear.
“Listen to this old boy. ‘Judge Womack, dead at 65 after a fatal motor incident.’” Gomez slapped his knee with the newspaper in exuberance. “Hah! Always knew I would out live him. This is exactly what I needed after such a cheerful holiday, these obituaries really do darken the soul.”
Thing tapped out a constant pattern, his own form of amusement. Gomez took a drag from his pipe, looking contemplative as set the newspaper aside.
“Perhaps we should send our worst to his wife, she and Morticia always did get along famously unwell. We could invite her to a séance, let them say farewell.”
As he said this the sound of impacts, wood shattering and glass breaking could be heard outside the window. Gomez walked to the window, surveying the damage. The wall was littered with crossbow bolts, the ground below sparkling with glass, as multicoloured lights slowly died out. Lurch, with a crossbow, and Pugsley looked up towards him, and he offered a thumbs down in approval.
“Terrible job taking down the Christmas lights, Lurch!”
She was probably one of the coolest people Pugsley had ever met. Unlike many of the other children that lived nearby, the new girl hadn’t been infected by the prejudice that other people shared about the Addams family. So nothing had stopped her from one day walking up to him, hand outstretched in greeting.
“Hi! I’m Enid!” she had said, smile big and her blonde her poofy.
For a week since then they had met up once a day, Pugsley showing Enid around town. It had felt good to have a friend, but it had all come crashing down once Enid finally went to school. It was there she had run into eldest Addams child, and the bond they had forged was unbreakable.
Despite their differences, Enid and Wednesday got along like a house on fire.
Now Pugsley sat with his face pressed against the railing overlooking the entrance hall, watching his sister and Enid play without him. Footsteps approached, his mother appearing beside him.
Seeing how despondent he looked she opened her arms in invitation, embracing the boy as he pressed his face against her stomach, his arms hugging her tight. Morticia cooed, attempting to ease her sons misery.
“If you ask nicely, I’m sure Enid will let you launch an arrow at her too.”
Enid ran as fast as she could. Fortunately she was a werewolf, so her speed and endurance was much higher than any normies.
Unfortunately, the person who had thrown the stick of dynamite now sizzling in her mouth had been Pugsley Addams, which meant it gone far. Further than any normal human child should have been able to throw it.
She wasn’t sure what had compelled her more to run after the lit stick of dynamite when it been thrown. Was it guilt for having neglected their friendship, or stupid werewolf instincts. Either way she was here now, and she wouldn’t be a bad friend anymore. Even if it meant there was now a lethal amount of explosives clutched between her teeth.
Her foot caught on a crack, almost sending her tumbling down.
Enid huffed for breath, sucking air through the small gaps between her mouth and the dynamite. Turning a corner she saw Pugsley waiting for her on the driveway, searching through a bulging box of bombs enthusiastically.
Hearing her frantic running had him turning, waving his arms in glee with a smile as she got closer. Seeing that made her feel a bit better, until he spoke up.
“Let’s play fetch with the grenades next!”
The old house creaked and groaned, a storm outside threatening to send the entire structure crashing down. Morticia reclined on her chair by the fire in the living room, knitting needles in hand and a glass of wine on a table next to her. Rain pelted against the window, on the verge of shattering from the force of the gale.
A perfect evening, or it would be soon. It was just missing one key ingredient.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
That was probably Gomez, likely having forgotten his keys. Again.
Morticia smiled, making her way to the entrance hall. The front door shuddered under repeated assault until it swung open of its own accord. There he stood, mud clinging to his shoes and the bottoms of his expensive suit pants.
He cut a dark figure in the doorway, illuminated only by the brief flashes of lightning. Each showed a face almost bisected by a demented grin. He made for a very handsome all told.
From the living room Thing snapped out a question, wondering who was at the door. Morticia placed a hand on her face, taken by the sight in front of her.
“There is a stranger at the door...yes, the strangest man of all.”
