Chapter 13

Rain battered against the thin glass, spidered with black iron, yellowed from sun exposure, and the sunlight which fought through the clouds shined onto Lenore’s desk, carving patterns across the blackened wood. It warmed her skin through. She pressed her palm against the window; it was jarringly cold against her skin. She traced the raindrops running down the glass with her pointer finger.

“Lenore,” Ms Zhang walked in, black binder pressed up against her chest, “you’re early.”

Lenore lazily raised a brow, “what can I say? I’m positively thrilled at the idea of learning.”

Miss Zhang supressed her smile, and rolled her eyes fondly. Her thick binder shook the table as she dropped it with a thud. “Oh, I’m sure.” She muttered. “Have you got your book?”

Lenore reached down into her leather bookbag, and pulled out an ornate copy of Jekyll & Hyde; it had silver thread embroidered around the edges, it was mostly dark, and the design was split through the centre. It differed on both sides, and was worn white at the edges. Ms Zhang’s hand brushed across the rough material.

“It’s a beautiful copy. Where did you get it?” She asked.

“On holiday, a few years ago.” Lenore replied.

“On the discussion of that, how’s your book going? Have you found a publisher yet?”

“No.” Lenore said, “I haven’t.”

“Well,” Ms Zhang sat on her desk, “I know a fair few people in the industry; I may be able to talk to someone, if you would allow me to, of course.”

Lenore’s eyes lit up. “You would do that?” A smile slipped onto her face. Moss Zhang’s face shined with a certain happiness.

“Of course, you have talent, and motivation. I want to see that nurtured.”

“Please do.” Lenore said.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can manage.”

Warm light spilled into the dimly lit room, lanterns buzzing and flickering as the door opened; the overlapping chattering of students poured in. Miss Zhang stepped away from Lenore, offering a brief smile before taking her place at the head of the class, before the chalkboard.

The sharp tap of heels quieted beside Lenore, she didn’t need to look up—she could smell her, and recognised her footsteps, but she looked regardless. It was Lorelai, smiling at her hopefully. Lenore pulled out the seat beside her, and she sat down.

“Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine.”

“Don’t do that. I know that look.”

“What look?” Lenore tilted her head, looking down through her hooded eyes, which burned slightly with exhaustion.

“You’ve got the jitters, something is bothering you.” Lorelai said softly, hovering her hand over Lenore’s, a subtle hesitation in her actions, but then rested her hands on the werewolf’s, her cool skin meeting the warmth of Lenore’s. “Have the cuts healed?” She asked. Lenore showed her the scar, and Lorelai’s hand shook as she brushed the cut.

“You know, I didn’t mean to blank you these past few days. It’s just-”

“Hard for you, I know. I would never hold that against you, Lorelai.” Lenore said, and met the siren’s gaze, a softness in her eyes. Lorelai squeezed her hand.

“Alright, then, everyone. Let’s quiet down, and get started.” Ms Zhang said, clasping her hands together. She turned to the board, and wrote in swooping lines and elegant loops, what does Jykell and Hyde represent? She turned to the class, and scanned across the crowd with an expectant expression.

“Aren’t you going to answer, wolfie?” Lorelai teased, and Lenore scoffed; she shoved her shoulder, and Miss Zhang’s eyes darted to them.

“Miss Yuson, Miss Ali, anything to say?” She asked, a smile planted surely on her lips, and she looked between them with a twinkle in her eye. Lenore looked around uncomfortably, and then caught Lorelai’s puppy dog eyes, and she relented.

“It represents the duality of man, and how someone can be both good and evil.” She answered. Ms Zhang wrote it down swiftly, and winked at Lenore playfully, who rolled her eyes.

“Nerd.” Lorelai whispered. Lenore kicked her playfully, Lorelai returned it, they kept going, slowly getting harder and harder, until they heard a cough, and saw the teacher’s amused, questioning expression.

“What about you, Lorelai? Can you answer a question if you feel no need to pay attention?” She asked, and Lorelai froze—Lenore could hear her quickening heartrate.

“Of course,” she offered her usual charming smile, “what do you want to know?”

“What triggered Jekyll’s condition?” It was a simple question for anyone who had read the book, or had access to the internet, but Lorelai opened her mouth, then closed it suddenly. Lenore quickly wrote on a page of her book, he drank an elixir, it read. Lorelai looked down, and shot her a grin.

“He drank an elixir which triggered it.” She answered smoothly.

Miss Zhang paused, narrowed her eyes at the girls, supressing the smile curling at her lips, and slowly spoke, “yes, good job, Miss Ali.” She glanced over at Lenore. The werewolf simply smiled—the picture of innocence. The teacher sighed, and shook her head, returning to teaching the class. “Alright, then, everyone, turn to page twenty five, and read. We’ll discuss in ten minutes.”

Lorelai bumped Lenore’s fist under the table. They opened their books, and began to read, sat together in a comfortable quiet.

It had stopped raining. Water streamed off the buildings, down the carvings, spandrels, statues, dripping off the balcony, onto the pathways, and soaked into the grass, leaving it a muddy mess, with delicate water droplets on the grass blades. The sky wasn’t clear, though, it had brightened from its stormy grey, and now it was a blinding, almost angelic white.

Lenore felt Lorelai shiver as a gust of wind blew past them, and she draped an arm over her shoulder; they watched, from the edge of the courtyard, sat below the looming werewolf statue, frozen mid-rampage, as Wednesday, sour as ever, talked with Agnes. Lenore’s jaw tightened, but she relaxed as Lorelai tucked herself closer to her chest.

“What’s their deal?” Lorelai asked as Enid approached Wednesday, a oddly serious expression scrawled across her features. Lenore shrugged. “You’re real helpful, you know that?” She said, however, she was swiftly ignored as Lenore twisted around upon hearing the flutter of wings, and she narrowed her eyes at the crows collecting on the statue above them.

She caught a flash of red, and a milky eye; she stood up, and stepped backwards, getting a better look.

“Lee, what is it?” Lorelai asked, following her stare. Lenore didn’t look away from the bird.

“Get inside, Lorelai.” She murmured.

“What? Why?”

“Just get inside. Now.” She glanced over at Lorelai, who furrowed her brows, but listened, and walked off, away from the courtyard. Lenore looked over her shoulder, and relaxed slightly upon seeing the door close behind Lorelai; she stepped back, towards Wednesday. She had taken notice of the familiar bird, too.

Her claws clicked out, she stepped into a defensive stance, and her jaw ached when she noticed the dozens of crows, calling out at them, perched on the bridge in a mass of feathers and black. She slowly stepped further away, until she stilled beside Wednesday. They shared a look.

“Enid, get inside now.” She said.

“No, you’re my best friend. I’m not gonna let you keep pulling yourself away like this.” Enid insisted. Lenore admired her care, but knew it wasn’t the time—it really wasn’t, and she subtly stepped in front of them, squaring her shoulders like her pulse wasn’t dancing in her neck from panic.

“Enid.” Wednesday snapped.

Lenore ears twitched, and caught the familiar, repetitive thrum of a heartbeat; she looked towards its source, and found the cloaked figure, swathed by darkness, in the window—she nudged Wednesday’s arm, and nodded her head at them.

In a blanket of black, rustling feathers, they flew towards them, swiping down at people, and the courtyard became chaos—students ran, tripped, cowered, hid, desperately tried to hide, get inside, take cover, run to safety. Lenore grabbed Enid and Wednesday by the wrist, and dragged them down, dodging a group of crows that dived for them. She grunted, and a flipped a table over to cover them, and watched as the chaos unfolded.

It was overwhelming; a mess of pungent anxiety, stress, fear, panic, and it filled the air, thick enough, viscious enough to stick to Lenore’s throat, and lay on her tongue. She pressed a hand over her ear, an attempt to cower from the noise, but it was no use, the screaming, cawing, slamming, yelling persisted. It all wore on her, and her nails dug into her hair, pricking into her delicate scalp.

Lenore swatted with her free hand, slashing at birds, who narrowly missed.

Panic thickened in her throat as she notices that infamous, deviant bird, fly off,with Thing held tightly in its grip; it flew away, higher, and higher, attempting to escape over the building. It was chased by a blast of fire, which narrowly missed, and scared the bird. Thing fell from high; he slammed against the room, tumbled down the slate, he hung from a weathered statue, it cracked, broke off, and he went falling down once again.

Enid tackled, and barely caught him.

Lenore sighed in relief.

Her and Wednesday shared a look.

They ran off after the figure.

Lenore’s longer reach, powerful, trained legs quickly rushed past Wednesday, who she heard behind her in a clatter of heels, and panting breaths. Her boots slammed against the wooden floors, and she followed without thought, letting her instincts lead her forward, following after the scent, the familiar footsteps, heartbeat, and the billowing shadow of their cape.

She skidded around a corner, quickly gaining on the figure, who cast a look over their shoulder, heart pounding audibly, they turned into a classroom, pulling open a secret bookshelf, leaving it ajar for Lenore to rush after her. She kicked it, allowing Wednesday to slip in behind her. Her pulse raced in her ears, but she couldn’t deny the thrill that filled her.

She had missed this.

They rushed through the crumbling passageways inside the walls, light pouring in from above, cables threading the walls, and Lenore stumbled as her knee buckled. She gritted her teeth, and quickly set off again. It was too late, though, and as she burst through a painting, Wednesday following after, they looked down to the find the cape. They shared a look. Lenore picked it up, and sniffed it—she definitely recognised it.

She hurried ascended the richly varnished wooden stairs, and as she grew closer to the open door of the music room, she didn’t only catch a familiar voice, but a scent; she sped up, and with Wednesday at her heel, they quietly walked into the music room. She saw a familiar head of curls, and heard a polished British accent—she tilted her head in confused. She looked down at Wednesday, who had a similiar expression on her face.

Doctor Fairburn hadn’t noticed them yet, but Lenore picked up on her anxiety, it was subtle, almost unnotice; it nagged, though, a constant faint trace. “I appreciate the heads up.” She said, and swiftly hung up the phone; she slowly turned to face the two Nevermore students. “Ms Addams, Ms Yuson. This is a surprise.”

“It certainly is.” Lenore regarded her with suspicion; although, she well knew that she wasn’t the Avian, she didn’t trust her, whatsoever, and the thought of Ms Capri getting involved in this made her hackles raise.

Wednesday wasn’t nearly as subtle, and offered her the cloak, “I think you dropped this.” She said.

Lenore muffled her sigh through her teeth, making it sound rather like a growl; she leaned down, resting her hand on Wednesday’s shoulder, “it isn’t her.” She muttered lowly. Dr Fairburn scowled at them, and Lenore returned it with equal fervour.

“Excuse me?” She asked, confusion written over her face.

Lenore massaged her forehead, a headache forming from Wednesday’s sheer ignorance.

“What brings you to Nevermore, Dr. Fairburn?”

Lenore was admittedly curious, too.

“Miss Capri generously offered to teach music therapy class at Willow Hill.” Fairburn said, then she glanced at Lenore, “you know what they say, music sooths the savage beast.”

Lenore’s stomach twisted, and she shoved her balled hands in her pockets, offering a smile through clenched teeth; it looked more like a grimace. It concerned her deeply, an aching worry, at the idea of Ms Capri going to a place like Willow Hill, she knew too well the sort of people who went there, into places like that. They weren’t all harmless, especially some Outcasts.

Wednesday glowered at the doctor, “I’ll take weapons over Wagner.” She bit.

Doctor Fairburn offered a tight, thoughtful smile, which couldn’t have been more forced, and silence fell momentarily, only the chirping of birds filled the tension between them. It was only for a moment, until Lenore heard footsteps, familiar ones, that she had heard many times before, along with a familiar thrum of a heartbeat. Her hands loosened.

Lenore turned to look over her shoulder, and as she did, Miss Capri walked inside, swathed in a fitted burgandy dress, cinched at the waist—a plate of cups rattled as she walked; she looked momentarily taken aback, eyes darting between the three, and it lingered on Lenore. “I don’t want to guess how you three know each other.” She said tightly.

Lenore’s voice dropped, quiet enough so only Ms Capri could hear, “I could say the same.” It came out equally as tense.

“Ms Addams and Yuson assisted with a certain homicidal Hyde.” Doctor Fairburn said, and Lenore didn’t miss the pinch of Miss Capri brow, the tension that shuddered through her jaw, and her looked between them with an unreadable expression.

“No time for tea. Judi keeps me on a tight leash.” Fairburn said. “I have a board meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

A flash of anger slammed into Lenore, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar emotion, though, she hadn’t felt it in a while—jealously, smouldering hot jealously; an emotion she had no right to feel for her teacher. She muffled a growl in her throat, and her hands tightened again, nails digging into her skin.

“Yeah.” Ms Capri muttered.

Lenore stared—rather glared—as the doctor left, quickly walking out the door, and she continued to burn holes in the wall once she had been gone. She repeatedly tucked a stand of hair behind her ear, which stubbornly, kept jumping out, and hanging between her eyes like a taunt.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes at Miss Capri. Lenore’s lips twitched in a snarl, which she unsuccessfully hid from the teacher, “you seem out of breath.” Wednesday commented pointedly.

“It’s been a long day.” Ms Capri responded, “I assume you’re here to drop out of the gala orchestra.”

Lenore tilted her head at the teacher, who seemed unusually tense; she hadn’t seen her like this before—she found it interesting, and concerning in equal measure. “I’ve decided to stick around. Every Mozart needs their Salieri.” Wednesday bit, before swiftly turning around, only slowing to glance at the birds.

Although, Lenore wanted to linger here, start a conversation—she had spent her night replaying their last meeting—she knew she had no reason to, and offered the teacher a smile, before slowly following after the Addams girl. Her plans, however, were cut short when she heard a voice softly call her name, almost hesitantly; she turned on her heel.

“Did you say something?” Lenore asked.

Miss Capri noticeably thought before replying, a pregnant pause hanging between them. “What’s your problem with Doctor Fairburn?”

She cursed herself for being so obvious.

“Doctors, especially psychiatrists, aren’t my favourite group of people,” she chose her words carefully, drawing them out.

“And why’s that?” Ms Capri asked.

Lenore swallowed, and looked around, warmth pulsing in her cheeks, flushing against the swell of jealously that had filled her earlier. She unbuttoned her shirt slightly, only enough to reveal an inch or two of skin, and she draped her blazer across her shoulder. “I don’t like psychiatry hospitals, or hospitals generally, they make me feel wrong.”

She swore she could’ve seen Miss Capri’s eyes dart down, only momentarily, she dismissed it as her own jealousy making her think inappropriately.

“And yet you went to Willow Hill.”

“Hyde’s aren’t predictable creatures, nor are werewolves, Wednesday was safer if I was there. Fight fire and with fire, or something like that.” She replied.

Ms Capri’s expression deepened thoughtfully, “what about you?”

“What do you mean?” Lenore asked.

“Was it safe for you?”

Lenore squared her shoulders, and looked around; she couldn’t meet her eyes. “I was fine.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking. You knowingly put yourself in danger.” She insisted.

Lenore felt her body stiffen, a claustrophobic panic filling her, thickening in her blood, making it feel like she was standing in mollases. “It isn’t like I’m ever safe.” She muttered thoughtlessly.

Miss Capri blinked, visibly taken aback, she stepped forward. Lenore stumbled backwards. “What does that-”

Lenore cut her off, “I’ve got… homework to do, and I have to help Lorelai study. I’ll- um drop off the guitar book later today. Have a nice afternoon.” She quickly left, without giving Ms Capri time to stop her.

She walked quickly, hurriedly, for minutes without stopping, she couldn’t, she needed space, and she didn’t let herself still, not for long enough to think. Her rage hadn’t dissipated; it sat on her chest, and didn’t let her take a breath without reminding her of it.

– 

Little Christmas Eve update.