Chapter Text
"Tell me you're joking." Enid's voice cracked halfway through the sentence, her grip tightening around her phone like she could crush the news out of it.
Esther Sinclair sighed on the other end of the line, the sound crisp and impatient. "Enid, we’ve discussed this before. You know how I feel about that school."
"Mom, we haven’t discussed this," Enid shot back, her free hand twisting in the hem of her sweater. A loose thread unraveled under her fingernail. "You just decided, like always, and now you're pretending I agreed!"
The dorm room suddenly felt too small, the pink fairy lights too bright against the gathering dusk outside. Wednesday's typewriter had gone silent three minutes ago—Enid could practically feel her roommate's dark eyes boring into her back from across the room.
Esther's tone sharpened. "That tone is exactly what I mean. You used to be so respectful." A pause, then the decisive click of a car door shutting. "I'm already in Jericho."
Enid's stomach dropped. Behind her, Wednesday's chair creaked. The faint scent of gun oil and old paper drifted closer as Wednesday stepped into her peripheral vision, arms crossed. Enid didn't dare look at her.
"You can't just— " Enid's voice faltered when she heard the second car door slam through the phone. Her father never argued with Esther. "But- But I passed my stabilization exams!" she tried instead, desperate. "Dr. Kinbott said—"
Esther cut her off with a sound like a whip crack. "Dr. Kinbott doesn’t understand our family’s standards." Through the phone, gravel crunched under tires, her mother was already turning into Nevermore’s driveway. "Pack your essentials. We’re not staying for theatrics."
The call died before Enid could inhale. Her fingers trembled so badly the phone slipped onto the rug with a dull thud. Wednesday’s black-polished nails entered her line of sight, picking it up with deliberate calm. When Enid finally forced her gaze upward, Wednesday’s face was terrifyingly blank. "Esther Sinclair," she stated, "is vehicular homicide waiting to happen."
A laugh hiccuped out of Enid’s throat—wet and fraying. "She’s gonna make me leave. Like, now now." The reality of it hit like a boot to the ribs, no goodbyes to Yoko’s sleepovers, no last milkshake at the Weathervane, no chance to memorize the exact way Wednesday’s frown softened when she thought no one was looking.
Wednesday set the phone on Enid’s dresser with unnatural precision. "Then we accelerate the contingency plan." She strode to her side of the room and wrenched open a desk drawer. The false bottom clicked open, Enid had never asked what she kept under there, and Wednesday emerged with a burner phone still sealed in plastic. "Thing will sabotage their car. Eugene’s hive can provide aerial distraction." She tossed the phone onto Enid’s bedspread. "Coordinate with Xavier for—"
"No.” The word scraped Enid’s throat raw. She hugged herself, claws pricking through her sweater sleeves. "She’ll just come back angrier. And she’s… not entirely wrong." The admission tasted like ash. "I did lose control during the wolfout. And last month’s moon was… messy."
Wednesday's fingers froze mid-air, hovering over the drawer she'd been about to slam shut. Her posture didn't change, but something in her stillness shifted, like a wolf catching an unfamiliar scent on the wind. "Define 'messy,'" she said, each syllable sharper than the last.
Enid's claws retracted with effort, leaving tiny crescent moons in the pink fabric of her sleeves. She focused on those instead of Wednesday's probing gaze. "I woke up covered in mud two miles from campus. With a... a deer leg in my backpack." Her laugh came out too high, too thin. "Pretty sure that's not in the werewolf stabilization handbook."
The silence stretched long enough for Enid to hear gravel crunching under impatient steps outside, closer now. Wednesday closed the drawer with exaggerated care. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped into that eerie calm Enid recognized as her 'calculated violence' register. "Your mother exploits legitimate concerns to control you. She weaponizes your fear and calls it parenting."
A horn blared from the quad below. Three short bursts, Esther's signature 'I'm waiting' pattern. Enid's knees locked to keep herself from bolting to the window. Instead, she grabbed the nearest duffel bag and started shoving sweaters inside with trembling hands. "She's not wrong though. What if I hurt someone next time? What if, " Her breath hitched. "What if it's you?"
Wednesday materialized in front of her so fast Enid nearly dropped the pastel striped sweater she was holding. Cold fingers gripped her wrist, not restraining, just there, and Wednesday's eyes burned black with something far more dangerous than pity. There was a pause. Enid was trying to hold eye contact with Wednesday, trying to anchor herself there, but she was still sharp enough to catch it—the brief, almost imperceptible blink her roommate didn’t usually allow herself. "You didn't attack me during the blood moon when you had every instinct to do so." Her thumb pressed against Enid's racing pulse. "You won't now."
Enid’s breath shuddered between them, caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Wednesday’s grip didn’t waver, her fingers cool against Enid’s feverish skin. Outside, Enid’s mother yelled up to the room. The duffel bag gaped open on the bed, half-packed with haphazard sweaters and a single battered copy of The Howler’s Guide to Wolfish Etiquette, ironic, really, given the circumstances.
"You don’t know that," Enid whispered, but her claws stayed sheathed. Wednesday’s thumb traced a slow, deliberate arc over her wristbone, as if mapping the proof of her control. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender it made Enid’s chest ache worse than the horn blaring outside.
A floorboard creaked near the doorway. Thing scuttled into view, holding a screwdriver like a tiny saboteur’s sword. Wednesday didn’t glance away from Enid’s face. "The brake lines," she said, as if discussing the weather. Thing gave a salute and vanished into the hall with alarming enthusiasm.
Another horn blast shook Enid into motion. She yanked open her dresser drawer, fingers scrambling past glitter pens and friendship bracelets to grab the essentials, chargers, her lucky claw file, the Polaroid of her and Yoko making bunny ears behind an oblivious Wednesday. Wednesday’s grip on her wrist loosened but didn’t let go entirely, her fingers lingering like a cold brand. "You’re not packing your toothbrush," she observed flatly.
Enid blinked at the half-filled duffel, then snorted despite herself. "Priorities, Wends." The nickname slipped out brittle at the edges. Wednesday’s eyebrow twitched, almost imperceptible, but Enid had spent months learning her micro-expressions.
A car door slammed, and Enid heard her parents arguing outside—they had always been louder than they needed to. Esther wouldn’t wait much longer. Enid sucked in a breath and turned to face her roommate fully, the duffel dangling forgotten from her other hand. "Tell Yoko I’ll text her. And Eugene, oh god, he’s gonna freak about the bees, "
Wednesday’s fingers tightened around Enid’s wrist for half a second, just long enough for Enid to feel the uncharacteristic tremor in her grip, before releasing. "Thing will handle the apiarist," she said, turning toward her desk with military precision. Her black skirts swirled like storm clouds as she wrenched open another drawer. "Your mother’s vehicle won’t make it past the gates regardless."
Enid watched her pull out a slim silver key, the kind that looked like it belonged to a mausoleum, not a dorm room, and felt something hot and sharp lodge itself behind her ribs. "Wends," she started, then swallowed when her voice wobbled. "Sabotaging her Lexus is just gonna make her, "
"Purchase a new one with the insurance payout," Wednesday finished without looking up. She slid the key into the hidden compartment beneath her typewriter. The click of the lock releasing sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet. "I’m aware. This is delay tactics, not deterrence."
The bedroom door burst open before Enid could respond, bouncing off the wall with enough force to make Wednesday’s taxidermy raven rattle on its perch. Esther Sinclair stood framed in the doorway, her designer coat impeccable despite the drive, her sharpened nails tapping against the doorframe. "Enid," she said, the single word a command layered with decades of alpha authority. Then her gaze flicked to Wednesday, still crouched by her desk, and something like disdain curled her upper lip. "Ah. The distraction."
Wednesday rose smoothly, hands clasped behind her back in a posture that looked demure until you noticed the way her fingers curled into lethal points. "Mrs. Sinclair," she said, her voice dripping with the kind of polite venom that could dissolve steel. "How... pedestrian of you to arrive unannounced."
Esther ignored her, stepping into the room with the confidence of someone who’d never been told no. Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she surveyed the half-packed duffel, the scattered sweaters, the Polaroid still clutched in Enid’s shaking hand. "You were supposed to be ready," she said, plucking the photo from Enid’s grip without looking at it. "Your father’s waiting in the car."
Esther's fingers closed around Enid's upper arm with the precision of a surgical clamp, steering her toward the door before she could react. The Polaroid fluttered to the floor, landing-side up, Wednesday's scowling face glared at the ceiling as if personally offended by gravity. Enid dug her heels in, but Esther's grip only tightened, her manicured nails biting through the sweater’s soft knit. "Mom—wait."
Wednesday moved like spilled ink, a dark blur intercepting their path to the doorway. She didn't touch Esther, Enid realized, but positioned herself squarely between her mother and the exit, her stance deceptively relaxed. "Mrs. Sinclair," she said, her voice softer than Enid had ever heard it, which somehow made it more dangerous. "Surely you wouldn't deny your daughter the courtesy of retrieving her insulin from the infirmary."
Enid blinked. Insulin?
Esther’s grip faltered for half a second, just long enough for Wednesday’s lie to slither into the silence. Enid felt her mother’s nails retract slightly from her arm, though the alpha’s posture remained rigid. "Since when do you need insulin?" Esther demanded, her sharp eyes flicking between Enid and Wednesday.
Enid's pulse hammered against her ribs like a trapped animal. Wednesday's gaze locked onto hers for a split second, a silent play along, before flicking back to Esther with glacial calm. "Since the full moon complications," Wednesday said smoothly, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides in a pattern Enid recognized as morse code, something she learned from Thing: “Follow my lead.”
Esther's nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply, the telltale sign of an alpha catching a whiff of deception. Enid felt her stomach drop, but before her mother could speak, Wednesday subtly shifted her weight, blocking Esther's line of sight to the infirmary directions pinned above her desk.
Enid caught the faintest tremor in Wednesday’s fingertips, something no one else would notice, but she’d spent too many late nights watching those hands dissect roadkill or pluck spiders from the air with deadly precision. The lie hung between them like a noose.
Esther’s hold sharpened, pressure radiating through Enid’s arm like a warning. "You expect me to believe, "
Wednesday's hand shot out faster than a striking snake, pressing a crumpled pharmacy receipt against Esther's chest. The paper trembled slightly, not from nerves, Enid realized, but from the sheer force with which Wednesday was holding it. "Believe whatever you like," Wednesday said, her voice dripping with acid courtesy. "But hypoglycemic shock during transit would inconvenience your schedule."
Enid stared at the receipt, a blur of dates and medication names she couldn't parse, before recognizing it as Wednesday's own prescription for some obscure Romanian anticoagulant. Esther scanned it with narrowed eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. For one suspended moment, Enid thought it might actually work.
The receipt crumpled in Esther’s grip as she exhaled through her nose, a slow, controlled sound that made the hairs on Enid’s neck stand up. Wednesday didn’t flinch, her fingers still outstretched like she was offering a business card to a particularly dull associate.
"Five minutes," Esther snapped, releasing Enid’s arm with a shove that sent her stumbling toward Wednesday. "And if you’re not in the car by then, I’m dragging you out by your, "
"Understood," Wednesday interrupted, catching Enid by the elbow with one hand while the other smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her own sleeve. The gesture looked casual, but Enid felt the way Wednesday’s fingers dug into her skin, a silent stay close. Esther’s eyes flicked between them, her upper lip curling before she turned on her heel and strode into the hall, the click of her heels fading like a retreating storm.
Wednesday's grip on Enid's elbow tightened the moment Esther's footsteps disappeared down the hallway. "We have minutes before she realizes anticoagulants don't cause hypoglycemia," she said, already dragging Enid toward the door with predatory efficiency. Enid stumbled after her, the duffel bag bouncing against her thigh. "Wait, where are we, "
"The greenhouse," Wednesday hissed, yanking open the dorm room door with enough force to make the hinges protest. Thing catapulted onto Wednesday's shoulder from the hallway, brandishing a set of lockpicks like tiny daggers. "Eugene's nocturnal specimens require feeding at this hour. He'll shelter you until, "
Enid planted her feet, her claws pricking through her shoes. "I can't drag Eugene into this!" Her whisper was sharp enough to make Wednesday pause mid-stride. Outside, car tires crunched gravel with impatient circles, Esther was already waiting by the curb.
Wednesday’s fingers spasmed against Enid’s elbow, a rare, uncalculated twitch. "Then name an alternative," she demanded, her voice low enough that even Thing leaned in to hear. The hallway lights flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows across Wednesday’s face that made her look feral. "Because I assure you, your mother’s Lexus will not survive the night if you board it."
Enid opened her mouth, the car’s demand echoed up the stairwell, splintering her thoughts. Esther’s impatience vibrated through the walls. Somewhere downstairs, a door slammed. Enid’s pulse pounded in her throat. "The Weathervane," she blurted. "Divina’s working the night shift, she’ll let me hide in the stockroom until, "
Wednesday was already moving, her black skirts swirling as she pivoted toward the stairwell. "Thing," she snapped. The disembodied hand saluted and launched itself toward the fire alarm panel near the elevators. "Delay them."