The Koenigsegg Gemera's engine hummed low as Aleksander drove toward Nevermore Academy, Wednesday rigid in the front passenger seat, Enid sprawled across the back.
Enid leaned forward between the seats, eyes wide. "Okay, that case was amazing."She fidgeted with her nails, voice dropping. "Well... the killing part was new."
Wednesday stared out the window at the blurring trees. "I envy you for that part."
Enid rolled her eyes, then gasped, phone screen lighting her face. "Wait—today's Sunday, October 20th. Tomorrow's the Harvest Festival!"
Aleksander caught Wednesday's glance in the rearview. The event was mandatory for Nevermore outcasts, but he'd heard plenty skipped it—normies often turned hostile, hurling slurs or worse.
Enid's frown tightened. "Principal Weems called it mandatory. Still, hardly anyone actually shows."
They pulled up to Nevermore's wrought-iron gates. Aleksander teleported the Gemera back to his place in a flicker of blue light, then jogged to catch up.
Inside the grand foyer, Principal Weems waited, her smile warm but expectant. "I presume your case was successfully solved."
Aleksander nodded once. "It was."
Wednesday added flatly, "We fought our first demonic shapeshifter serial killer."
Weems' smile faltered, lines creasing her forehead. "I'm glad you're safe. As a shapeshifter myself, demonic ones are the hardest to identify."
Aleksander sensed her genuine worry—even Wednesday's flat gaze softened a fraction.
Weems straightened, voice firm. "Tomorrow is the Harvest Festival. I hope all three of you will be present."
Aleksander, Wednesday, and Enid nodded.Aleksander had a hunch: something big was brewing.
Back in his dorm, Stitch launched off the bed with a gleeful growl, slamming into Aleksander's legs in a vise-grip hug.
"Aleksander! Where you go? Me worry! Missed you!"Aleksander smiled, ruffling the blue fur as Stitch nuzzled hard.
"Next time! Take Stitch! Promise? Ihk!" He bounced impatiently, claws flexing.
Matthew swooped in through the cracked window, black wings folding as he perched on the bedpost with a disdainful ruffle. "You have no idea how utterly dreadful it's been, cooped up with this blue catastrophe."
Stitch rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue with a snort.
Matthew tilted his head, voice dripping sarcasm. "Oh, do try to contain your charm. While you were off gallivanting, I kept watch on that boy Tyler and the woman with the glasses. They met once—couldn't get close enough for the sordid details, mind you. But it was undoubtedly about the new murder two days back."
Aleksander turned to Matthew, still perched on the bedpost. "So, did he transform into a Hyde?"
Matthew ruffled his feathers with a sigh. "Oh, he did—into a positively hideous monster. Raged through the forest, far from Vermont, then tore into some mugger on the street. Snatched the left hand as a souvenir, the ghastly brute."
Aleksander hummed, eyes narrowing as he paced. New target so far from Vermont—he's wary of us. Probably Thornhill's warning."Anything else?"
Matthew cocked his head. "Nothing else."
Aleksander's phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen—Uncle Jane—then answered, stepping away from Stitch's insistent tugging.
"Hey, kiddo," Jane's smooth voice rolled through, laced with that trademark grin you could hear. "Heard you took down a demonic shapeshifter with Wednesday. Congrats—those are the hardest ones to detect. Slippery bastards."
Aleksander smiled faintly. "Thank you."He leaned against the desk. "So why call now, Uncle?"
Jane chuckled lightly. "Well, you remember Grace asking you to build your own team? Protgés from the Department?"
Aleksander hummed and replied.""Yes, I remember."
Jane said."Right. One of them's landing in Vermont tomorrow."
Aleksander's brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Sofia Rivera," Jane said, casual as weather. "Protégé of Dr. Temperance Brennan— She is a Forensic anthropologist out of the Jeffersonian Institute. She is known as Bones because of how skilled she was with her job. CBI recruited Sofia a few months back. Sharp kid. You'll like her."
Aleksander nodded, steadying his breath, and flipped open his laptop.He sifted through Dorn's latest files—cross-referencing Tyler Galpin, Marilyn Thornhill and the Gates family.
Gates mansion: sold off. Buyer: 90-year-old heiress Mariah Williams, living with caretaker Teresa L. Glau. Then—mysteriously—Mariah dies, fortune dumped straight to Teresa.
Aleksander smirked in the laptop's blue glow. "So predictable."
He typed fast, messaging Dorn: Dig deeper on Teresa L. Glau. Now.
Aleksander swiveled to Tyler Galpin's file on his laptop screen.
Dorn's latest: traffic cam footage of a Hyde bolting into the forest—exact spot of the newest murder.
Tyler's family tree twisted dark. His mother Françoise's father: physically abusive. She and brother Isaac Knight attended Nevermore.
Fearing her Hyde curse's ruinous rep among outcasts, Françoise chased normalcy, desperate to cage the beast.Isaac, scientific genius, hunted a cure for her—then vanished before cracking it.
Françoise wed Donovan Galpin, birthed Tyler. Depression sank her; locked in Willow Hill Psychiatric till death.
Aleksander fished a cigarette from his pack,
Old habit from that past life—it is custom blend he engineered magically himself. No lung rot, just neural calm, sharpens the edges when intel piles up.
He flipped open his custom metal Zippo—red-black-white shark mouth snarling like the Jaws poster. Click—flame kissed the tip.
He puffed deep, smoke curling toward the ceiling. "I don't know how to feel about this kid."
Neglect stacked his life; his mother's, pure tragedy.
Smoke hazed the air as Aleksander scrolled deeper. Françoise had ties to Aunt Morticia and Principal Larissa—close enough for master-servant bonds.One of them had to be her Hyde controller. After all, she'd lingered far too long for a normie lifespan.
Aleksander stubbed the cigarette, smoke drifting lazy. "Let's deal with tomorrow's Harvest Festival first."
He glanced back—Stitch sprawled across the bed, chest rising in soft snores, claws twitching mid-dream.