Evening settled over Nevermore.
Ethan was walking down the corridor when he suddenly paused mid-step. No reason. No warning. Just a strange feeling tugging at the back of his mind. It wasn't fear—more like an itch he couldn't scratch, the kind that made you stop and rethink your life choices.
'What the hell is this feeling?'
"The Gates psychopath…" he muttered under his breath. "She must be planning something."
Then again, with a psychopath like her, planning something was practically a hobby. It wouldn't be strange if she was scheming—what would be strange, and frankly alarming, was if she wasn't planning anything at all.
For three days, he didn't see her.
Usually, she maintained her teacher's composure—measured steps, a practiced smile—but for the past three days, she had vanished entirely from Nevermore.
Still, he knew better than to assume that meant safety. Even if she was acting strangely, she couldn't do anything yet.
"The Blood Moon hasn't risen," Ethan muttered to himself. "Until then, she won't make a move."
The ritual demanded it. The resurrection of Joseph Crackstone required the night of the Blood Moon—when dark magic reached its peak, and the boundary between death and return grew thin enough to tear.
***
At the same time, within the Nightshade secret society chamber, the air was still.
Wednesday Addams stood across from her mother. There was space between them—deliberate, careful.
"I know Father didn't kill Garrett Gates," she said. "I've seen him lie before—and when he said he killed Gates, I saw the lie."
Morticia Addams stiffened. Just slightly. Enough for Wednesday to notice.
"He's lying so the truth he's hiding won't surface," Wednesday said evenly. "Mother, I need the whole truth if I'm going to save Father."
Silence stretched between them.
Morticia's composure didn't break, but it strained, like glass under pressure. At last, she exhaled—slowly, deliberately.
"Yes," Morticia said softly. "Your father didn't kill Garrett Gates."
She paused.
"It was me."
Then Morticia explained what had truly happened that night.
Garrett had attacked her—his obsession having curdled into something violent and unrestrained. In the struggle, Morticia had struck him. There had been no intention to kill. Only to survive.
Gomez had taken the blame without a second's hesitation. For him, love had always meant absolute devotion—bearing the consequences so she wouldn't have to.
Wednesday listened without interruption.
Then Morticia added something she hadn't meant to.
"I'll never forget the way he looked at me," she said. "He was foaming at the mouth. His eyes… they weren't right. It was like staring into a rabid animal."
Wednesday's eyes sharpened.
Foaming at the mouth.
She had heard that before.
"You said he was foaming," Wednesday repeated. "And his eyes didn't look human."
Morticia nodded slowly. "I've never seen anyone so blinded by rage."
"Maybe it wasn't rage," Wednesday said.
She turned slightly, thoughts aligning with cold clarity.
"Foaming saliva. Dilated pupils. Confusion. Loss of control." She paused. "Those aren't symptoms of jealousy."
Morticia frowned. "Then what are they?"
Wednesday met her gaze.
"They're textbook signs of it."
Morticia inhaled sharply. "But how could that be?"
Wednesday didn't answer immediately.
"There's only one way to find out," she said.
Night had settled over Nevermore by the time Wednesday and Morticia emerged from the Nightshade Society's concealed entrance.
They nearly walked straight into Ethan.
He paused mid-step, clearly headed somewhere else. "Oh," he said lightly. "Didn't expect to run into you two here."
Wednesday's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Where are you going?"
"Nowhere important," Ethan replied. "Just thought I'd pay the mayor a visit. Suggest he closes the Garrett Gates case."
He had been hoping to help his future father-in-law—earn a few points, smooth things over.
But that opportunity was slipping away. It was obvious now that they had uncovered the real reason Garrett Gates had died, and it wouldn't be long before the truth was proven and Wednesday's father was released.
He sighed to himself.
'Well, there goes my chance of being the impressive son-in-law.'
Wednesday turned fully toward him. "How?" she asked. "The sheriff won't listen to the mayor now. Not after the arrest."
Ethan shrugged, unfazed. "I'm not planning to persuade him. I'm planning to tell the truth." His gaze flicked briefly to Morticia, then back to Wednesday. "The real reason Garrett Gates died. Which I'm guessing you've already uncovered."
There was a beat of silence.
"Yes," Wednesday said. "We have."
"And you're not going to the mayor," she added flatly.
Ethan opened his mouth to explain everything—but Wednesday didn't allow it.
"You're coming with me," she said instead, seizing his sleeve with decisive force. "I'm not giving you the chance to derail this with theatrics or one of your deliberately vague monologues."
Ethan blinked once. "I was planning to tell you the truth," he replied, a hint of mild offense slipping past his usual calm. "Do you really trust me that little?"
Wednesday didn't break stride. "You have a well-documented tendency to treat the truth like a scavenger hunt," she said flatly.
*****
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