Chapter 14

Lenore’s irritation had scarcely dissipated, settling on her chest, a weight, constantly there, and always noticeable. It survived, even when she paced the school yesterday evening; Lorelai had noticed, it wasn’t subtle. Her anger had a way of thickening in the air, shown through her tense jaw, the grinding of molars, and how she thoughtlessly swayed her weight between her feet when she stood, when she walked.

Now, as she curtly knocked on Wednesday’s door, it remained, in the tension growing painful in her shoulders, and how her fists curled at her sides, bleaching her scarred knuckles. She glanced through the frosted window, and caught a blur of movement. Heels tapped sharply through the door. It opened slowly, creaking pointedly—grudgefully.

Wednesday’s sour expression was unmoved, but her eyes sharpened, before softening; she stared for a moment, then stepped aside, allowing Lenore entrance. The wooden floorboards whined under foot, and she looked around—it had been a while, though it was unchanged—a record played mournfully, a darkness was draped over Wednesday’s side, while Enid’s seemed in shine almost painfully.

Rainbow’s shined across the floor, in lengthed shapes, cast by the low autumn sun. She narrowed her eyes against the light, and looked away from the window, towards where Thing sat on Wednesday’s desk; he waved at her, she smiled at him. Wednesday stood in the centre of the room, staring at Lenore reproachfully—fortunately, she knew her well enough to know it was simply her resting face.

“You don’t like Doctor Fairburn,” she said.

Lenore raised a brow. “And you do?” She asked dryly.

“You know, I don’t like anyone, I simply… tolerate them.” Wednesday replied. Lenore didn’t bother to argue with her. “You, however, as much as you detest socialising, you do put stock in being cordial. So, why do you dislike her?”

“Doctors aren’t my favourite people.” She felt that familiar irritation bubble up. “Especially, psychiatrists.” Lenore muttered. “Anyhow, that isn’t why I’m here. I heard you mention to your gopher that you’ve found something on the school trip.”

Wednesday scowled at her, and tilted her head curiously—suspiciously, “how do you know that?” She asked. Lenore simply decided to play Wednesday’s game, and stared blankly at her, arms crossed over her chest, a petty look plastered across her face.

It took minutes for either side to give in; they stood there, staring at another—an unstoppable force meeting an unmoveable object, until the object shifted, and Wednesday let out a resigned sigh. “Okay.” She gritted out. She looked through her desk, and laided out pieces of paper; Lenore recognised them as newspaper clippings.

“Who are they?”

“Patricia Redcar, Bronte Wigan, Julian Meiojas, Griffin Whitaker; they’re all outcasts, all considered dead, but I found this in Galpin’s cabin, hidden. It must mean something.” Wednesday explained. Lenore read through them. It sickened her, and interested her in equal measure—Willow Hill, here again, seemingly at the centre of everything.

“They’re all Willow Hill residents. There’s something going on there; I’m sure of it.” Lenore said.

“That’s been handled.”

Lenore ran a hand through her hair, curling a strand around her finger, and then she pulled harshly. “Wednesday, listen,”—she sighed—”be careful. These places, that hold outcasts, they aren’t your usual mental health hospitals; they’re more like prisons, asylums, where they treat outcasts like second class citizens. Just be safe, and remember… I’m here if you need help.”

Wednesday’s features softened, if only for a moment, “how do you know so much about these places?”

Lenore thought—considered—her answer, silence hung between them, and tension echoed through her jaw, she breathed out; she shook her head. “Trust me, this once, just trust that I know better.” She implored her, softly, voice a whisper in comparison to its usual convinction.

Wednesday’s mouth opened, then snapped shut upon hearing the opening of a door, and its slam following moments later. Lenore stiffened, her softness had been eradicated, and she kept her back straight. “Wednesday, we need to do something your obsession with these killers. I mean running after them yesterday; what were you thinking, especially with Lenore.” Enid quieted suddenly, with a yelp, wide eyes fixed on Lenore, who she somehow hadn’t noticed before now.

The older werewolf tilted her head thoughtfully, and raised a single, questioning brow, “yes, what about me, Sinclair?” She asked cooly. Enid opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, before offering a weak smile, that faltered around the edges. Lenore kept her steely gaze on Enid. Then, a smile twitched at her lips. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m more than aware about my less than favourable reputation.”

“Ms Capri thinks highly of you, though.” Enid said. Lenore felt a surge of pride, and awkwardness.

“She does?” Lenore asked, hiding the hopefulness in her voice.

“Yeah,” she said, rumaging through her draws, “you’re like her star student; she mentions you, talks about how you feel the music. I still don’t know what means, I mean, like, what does feel the music even mean, you play, that’s it, right?” She rambled. Wednesday glared between them, and Lenore noticed from the corner of her eye.

She shook her head fondly, laughing a breathy chuckle, “I think I should go, before Wednesday decides to go all… well, Wednesday on me.” She waved goodbye, and promptly left before Wednesday could continue to stare daggers into her for being friendly.

The soft, high-pitch jingle of a bell rang as Lenore pushed open the glass dorms; she hummed softly her herself, along to the tune playing in her headphones. It was quiet. There was only the soft gurgle of drip coffee, whirring of the coffee machine, and Mateo’s heavy, padding footsteps as he awkwardly made his away around the small space.

The thick, bitter smell of coffee hit her, along with creamer, caramel, chocolate, and pasteries; it made her mouth water. She slung her headphones around her neck, and dumped her blazer on a booth as she passed. She hit the bell on the counter. Mateo spun around, looking tired, and opened his mouth, before a smile spilled onto his face.

“The usual?” He asked.

“If you would, kind sir.” She said warmly.

He spun around, and clicked along the buttons, starting on her drink, “how did you fair on the full moon?” He asked.

“A painful blur. I woke up naked, aching, you know, the usual.” She muttered, leaning on the counter, and absentmindedly batted at the tip jar, watching as the coins shifted inside.

“Really? I heard that a zombie, or something got loose, took a chunk out of the cadet instructor.” He said.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. I only saw the aftermath; the trip was cut short, and Miss Capri came by to pick me up.”

“Oh, yeah, Avery told me about your conversation.” She didn’t miss the hesitation before he said Avery’s name.

“Are you alright, Matty?” She asked, catching his eye even as he ducked his head; he couldn’t lie, then.

“Honestly?” He asked.

“Always,” she responded, gesturing for them to sit. They slumped down at a booth, knees knocking together, and he put her drink down. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s… rough. I mean, I’m working, and we haven’t been seeing each other as much, but something feels off. Do you think I’m just overreacting?” He said. “I mean, I’m the first to admit I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I just can’t shake it.”

She rested her hand on his, and squeezed comfortingly. “No one knows Avery better than you; it doesn’t matter if you’re smart or not, and I disagree with your comment anyway. You can only trust yourself, and do what you do usually do when they clam up.” She said. He smiled at her, through watery eyes, and held her hand tighter.

“Thanks, Lee. You’re a real one.”

“You deserve it, Mat. I don’t know anyone as selfless as you.” She said.

He shook his head unsurely, “now, I’m not sure about that.”

It was only once silence fell on their conversation, they noticed footsteps, and the person who stood in the doorway, looking at them, brow subtly furrowed, her lips pinched together sourly. He jumped away, in his awkward manner—she snorted—and he stood up.

“Um, I’m sorry, ma’am. What can I get you?” He asked, offering a nervous smile. Lenore looked over her shoulder, and her heart, it lurched, and she swore it nearly stopped—she hadn’t expected to see Ms Capri here, dressed in a long coat, golden jewellery, and freshly wet boots.

“Hey, Miss.” Lenore greeted, waving awkwardly.

“Ms Yuson.” She nodded her head at the younger woman.

“Lee, you two know each other?” He asked.

“Yeah, I could ask the same thing.” Miss Capri muttered tightly.

“Yeah, she’s my music teacher, you know, I told you and Ave about what happened with DeMille.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember now.” She stepped behind the counter, “did she ever get a punishment for what she did?”

“Nah. I’m no snitch, plus, as much as even seeing her makes my blood boil, I’ll even admit she’s gotten her justice. I mean being friends with Wednesday is punishment enough.” Lenore said. Mateo only laughed, the usual sparkle in his eyes slightly dimmer; she frowned. She thought about calling Avery.

Ms Capri, however, looked less than amused, Lenore noticed that—she looked between them—utterly confused; a near thunderous expression written across her features. “And how does he know about happened?” She asked in a mutter.

Mateo spoke up, before Lenore could, smiling, utterly oblivious, “we’re friends, have been for a while; I mean after what Lenore did for me, I couldn’t not be friends with her.” He said.

Lenore only laughed at the memory, a full, pearly, teeth shining smile, “you know, Santiago still mentions that. I mean, it’s been what? Two years?”

“What did she do for you?” Miss Capri asked, face lightening, though she still seemed curious.

“Should I tell it, or you?” He asked.

“Allow me to do the honours,” she said. Ms Capri slid down into the booth opposite Lenore, and spun her rings repeatedly around her fingers. “It was two years ago, and when I would come into Jericho just after the school rush, I noticed this kid getting picked on. I never liked it, but figured it wasn’t my business, that was until I saw him getting beaten up. I took care of the trouble makers, but I went a little far.”

“You threw one, broke another’s ribs, and curb stomped the other.” Mateo cut in, placing down Ms Capri’s drink.

“Shut up. Anyway, I got in a little trouble, was on lockdown for two weeks, but once I came back into town, Mateo came and thanked me for defending his brother; we got coffee together, bonded over a mutual hatred of insects, and here we are.” She explained.

Miss Capri pursed her lips, “insects?” She questioned.

“Oh, yeah, hate the bastards.” Lenore shuddered.

“So,” Ms Capri thought for a moment, looking between them, and then back at Lenore, who shifted underneath the attention. “You’ve always had a violent streak?”

Lenore’s jaw snapped shut, so audibly, you could hear her teeth snap through air, and the crunch of her teeth against together. Mateo winced. It wasn’t anger, but hurt, and she shrunk into her seat, looking out the window. “I wasn’t always violent.” She murmured. “I would like to think I’m not, but that would be lying.”

“You aren’t, Lee,” Mateo cut in firmly, but gently, “that is the last thing you are. After what you experienced, it isn’t violence, it’s survival.” He walked off to clean up.

It left Lenore and Ms Capri in silence—a thick tense one, though this wasn’t their usual tension; it was much more painful to sit in, and they were practially bathing in it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She said. Lenore sighed.

“Come on, I respect someone who stays by their word, if you’re going to think me violent, I at least want to respect you for sticking to your opinion,” she bit. It landed, and she saw—she felt—Miss Capri flinch. Lenore stood up, rocking the table as she knocked into it. “I’m leaving.” She said, and didn’t waste time; she wished Mateo goodbye, who hugged her tightly, tighter than usual, and she swiftly left.

It was bitterly cold outside—though, the needles of wind stinging at her face didn’t rival the burning in her eyes; she looked up at the sky, and sniffled. It was clear, ocean blue, and painfully bright; a perfect late autumn day, where the trees were orange, amber, and hazel, and leaves spotted the ground, while the wind cut through the quiet—chillingly cool, but clear, and fresh. It felt like ice water in her lungs.

“Pull yourself together,” she muttered grudgefully, pressing her fingers into her tear ducks, to stop herself from crying, from even coming close. She breathed in deep, and counted to four, then held it, and released; she repeated that, until she could feel that her composure had stopped slipping between her fingers like sand.

The scar on her hand, the freshest, chain-like one, throbbed, and thrummed with life; she held her pulse in her palm. She dug her nails into the textured skin. The sensation lessened. It quickly returned when she relaxed her hand.

Lenore didn’t glance behind her, or falter as she walked away; she let her legs take her, even if she didn’t know where she was going—she wasn’t going back to Nevermore, that was in the opposite direction. She didn’t care, just pulled her headphones back on, and wandered along the dead silent town.

It grew colder, it wasn’t an autumn chill, but a winter one—the kind that sent needles across your skin, and numbed your fingers, though Lenore couldn’t feel it. It raised goosebumps on her skin anyway, though, she was burning up, sweat forming a sheen on her skin. Her jacket was thrown on the bench beside her, and her headphones hugged the armrest. It was quiet, but Lenore couldn’t miss the thrum of conversation, too far to make out, but close enough for her to constantly be aware of it.

She leaned on her knees, but stared up at the sky, where the hiding sun cast shadows to stretch out languidly over the ground, and painted the horizon in a watercolour of orange, pink, and red. It faded into the navy sky, which was dusted by a spill of stars. Her skin began to burn, to itch with moonlight, but it wasn’t unbareable. It was simply familiar, and made her head throb, but not with pain, instead with something like confusion.

“Ms Yuson?” She heard a voice call out, and heavy, booted footsteps approach her; she knew who it was. The Sheriff stood before her, looking worried. “Ms Bloom told us some teenager had been being disruptive in the park.” Santiago said.

Lenore pulled herself up straight. “I haven’t done anything.” Her voice fell to a mutter. “I doubt you’ll believe me anyway.”

Santiago crossed her arms over her chest, and looked conflictedly at Lenore, then away elsewhere. “I didn’t think you had, honestly. I’m not going to make you leave, but it is getting late, and there’s someone dangerous out there, so I think you should.” She suggested. They stared unmovingly at each other.

Lenore sighed in resignation, “I can handle myself.”

“Yeah,” she said, “and others I distinctly remember.” Her face fell from amusement to concern. “What are you doing here alone? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Just needed some air, time alone, you know?” She muttered, and glanced at her hands, at the burning of her skin. “Though, I can leave if it’ll make your job easier.”

“You might want to; I doubt a different officer would be so understanding. You’ve got a… reputation.” She explained.

“Because I helped Wednesday, and fought those kids, yeah?”

“Yes.”

Lenore threw her head back, and stared up at the sky, “I appreciate your candor, thanks, Santiago.” She playfully saluted her, and shifted to rise from her seat, before pausing suddenly, jarringly enough to capture Santiago’s attention. It was a familiar heartbeat, faster than usual, growing closer quickly.

“What is it?” The sheriff asked, looking between her and where she was staring with alarm—her eyes widened when a shadow came into view. Her hand moved down to her waistband, and Lenore lunged forward to stop her.

“Don’t.” Her face was stone. “I know her.” She kept her eyes firmly on Santiago until she pulled away from her weapon. She slowly dropped her hand. Lenore breathed out in relief, and sat back again. She watched as Ms Capri approached them.

Her face was etched with concern, and it flowed through her blood thick enough to bathe in. Her features softened when she looked at Lenore, and deepened once she saw the sheriff. She stepped between them. “What’s happening here?” She asked.

“Nothing, someone called the police, and I came here to check it out. It was a false alarm.” Santiago explained. Lenore could the feel warmth pooling under Miss Capri’s skin—anger, and her face showed it, utterly thunderous.

“Who?” She asked tightly.

“Sorry?” Santiago questioned.

“Who called the police on Lenore? She wasn’t doing anything. Is it because she’s a werewolf?” She snapped. The sheriff didn’t respond, and shifted between her feet unsurely, looking around at something no one else could see.

Lenore felt the weight on her chest soften, though, it was against her own will. “It’s fine. She calls for nonsense reasons all the time.” Her voice fell softer. “I’m… I’m sure it was just that.” She stood up, and gathered her jacket, and headphones, slipping them on. “I’ll head out now; see you around, Santiago.”

The sheriff looked between them, concern written over face, but with a wavering, comforting smile from Lenore—she left. A tense silence hung between Lenore and Ms Capri; she couldn’t bare to look at the other woman. She played with her sleeve, curling it up, then flattening it. “I’ll drive you back.” Miss Capri said.

“No, I’ll go myself.” She waved her off.

Ms Capri’s offer hung still; it was clear, by her expect expression, and how she didn’t move an inch, that she wouldn’t be taking her answer. “It’s late, and clearly some normie already wants to start a witch hunt. Let’s go.” She asserted, and Lenore didn’t argue. She followed her along the darkened pathway.

“So, how’d you find me?” She asked.

Miss Capri carefully took the magpie feather from her pocket. “It’s got your scent on it.” She twirled it between her fingers, it caught the final brushstrokes of sunlight, and shimmered.

“You kept it.”

“Of course I did.”

Lenore felt a sense of confliction settle upon her, and she looked at Ms Capri, who had dusk carved across her face, half dipped in shadows. Her amber eyes shined like sunlight—they burned like the sun, too, and it brought a peace to her; however, as she looked at her, what happened at the Weathervane struck her. It stole her breath, and made her ache. She rung her hands.

It went quiet, and she focused on the blurs of black fluttering across her vision—bats, and the silent, graceful flight of owls that were dark against the last passages of daylight. It would’ve been peaceful in any other situation. She couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat.

They stopped when they reached Ms Capri’s car. The locks clicked open, and she slid in; she traced the embroidery in her leather seats. The seat beside her creaked. “Seatbelt.”

Lenore secured herself in, and stared out the window as Miss Capri slotted the car key in, and the engine turned over with a purr; they moved forward, and the car smoothly rode over the pitiful, small town roads. They passed shops—she remembered getting a full suit from Hawte Kewture last year, she didn’t even end up going with anymore to the Rave’N. She didn’t know anyone, then; it made her ache longingly.

She didn’t know if it was better then, for her, for everyone else. She thought on Lorelai, and that maybe it was better that she didn’t have anyone to lose. She didn’t know what she would do if…

“Lenore?” Ms Capri asked softly. She looked over.

“Yeah?”

Miss Capri breathed out heavily, and squeezed the wheel hard enough to bleach her knuckles. “I don’t think you’re a violent person.”

“Maybe you should.” She muttered stubbornly.

“Your friend was right.”

“You know nothing about me; if he thought I was violent, then I might care, but you… you’re…”

“What, Lenore? I’m what?”

“Nothing to me.” She said it so lowly it could’ve been a breath.

It hung between them heavily, and the lie burned in Lenore’s mouth—it scorched her tongue. Ms Capri gripped the wheel tighter, and took a turn too quickly, throwing Lenore into the door. She almost yelled at her carelessness. When she saw her face, stricken, jaw tight enough to snap, and the slightest glossiness in her eyes, she decided not to.

“Then, why did you storm out?” She asked. “If I mean nothing to you, not that I should, you’re my student, then why leave like that. I know there’s more to you than you’ll tell me.”

“Isn’t that true for everyone? I can imagine there’s much more to you than meets the eye.” She said.

Miss Capri froze, like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t have. “That isn’t your business.”

“Then, neither is mine yours. Yet, you seem to be so interesting in knowing it.” Lenore snapped, in a biting mutter.

It went entirely quiet, and neither spoke again.

Ms Capri’s car stopped outside the Nevermore gates, and before it could open, and they could drive in, Lenore left, and swiftly slammed the door. The car shook. She was met by a gale of wind, and it stung at her face, drawing tears from her eyes.

Leaves crunched underfoot, collected in piles, against the road, trees, bushes, in bunches. They were rotting, covered in mud, and some were soaked down into a decomposing mush. The road shined in moonlight, reflecting onto the pools of water, and off the damp tarmac.

Nevermore loomed over her, a watchful shadow, and it was hardly distinguishable from the navy sky; she came to the door. She stepped into the silent school. The door slammed shut behind her. It echoed through the halls.

Note: 

Hi, I have started writing another book, though, this one is a Wednesday centered one. The introduction has been posted, the first chapter should be posted soon, if it interests you, you can add it to library to see when the first chapter gets posted.