Just as Alex had expected, Wednesday’s birthday congratulations ended exactly the way he thought they would.

It all began when Wednesday entered Joseph Cracklestone’s crypt. While Alex and the others were hiding, preparing their so-called surprise, she almost immediately realized that someone else was there. And, staying true to herself, she began to threaten them at once, promising to tear off all the limbs of whoever dared to hide.

After that came the familiar rendition of “Happy Birthday,” awkward congratulations, and requests to blow out the candles and make a wish.

But instead of doing any of that, Wednesday noticed an inscription on the crypt wall. It began in exactly the same way as the one that had burned into the grass in Nevermore’s backyard.

At the moment Wednesday reached out and touched the inscription, Alex was already beside her. He barely managed to catch her—before anyone could ask a single question or say a word, Wednesday was struck by a vision. She nearly collapsed again, but Alex deftly held her up.

When Wednesday went limp in his arms, the others assumed she was having a seizure. Only Alex and Xavier knew what was really happening—no one else was aware of Wednesday’s gift of visions.

When Wednesday came to, she immediately tried to leave.

But Alex said in a calm, firm tone that allowed no argument:”Until the cake is eaten, no one is leaving.”

They had no choice but to stay.

The atmosphere in the crypt was awkward. Xavier kept casting worried glances at Wednesday, clearly concerned about her condition. This visibly irritated Bianca. Alex, meanwhile, calmly ate the cake he had made with his own hands and deliberately ignored this strange love triangle. He’d already had more than enough of that kind of spectacle when he lived in Forks and watched Bella, Edward, and Jacob.

After a few minutes, the tension began to fade. Everyone got distracted by the cake—and, to be fair, it turned out to be so delicious that even Wednesday, in her usual manner, couldn’t resist making a dry but still approving comment.

Just in case, Alex set aside a separate slice—for Dean. He knew far too well how much whining he’d have to listen to if he came back without cake.

When the awkward party came to an end, Alex walked Wednesday and Enid back to the dormitory. As a farewell, he quickly kissed both girls on the cheek and headed back to the hotel.

Wednesday watched him for a while, as if expecting something. When nothing happened, she frowned slightly. Without quite understanding why, she felt that Alex—true to his usual style—should have done something more, rather than simply leaving.

The reason was simple: Alex genuinely didn’t know what to give Wednesday. So he limited himself to a cake and congratulations—and decided to come back to the matter later.

After leaving the Nevermore grounds, Alex pulled out his phone and checked the time. It was already two in the morning.

After thinking for a moment, he lit a cigarette and leisurely headed toward Jericho—just to take a walk, clear his head, and put his thoughts in order after several sleepless working days.

Finishing his cigarette, Alex stopped in the middle of a road surrounded by forest. He closed his eyes, listening to the surrounding sounds and trying to sense anyone’s presence.

The reason was simple: he didn’t rule out that Marilyn might have sent the Taken—or even Tyler—after him for ruining her plans of revenge against the Addams family and frightening the Nevermore students with the burning inscription.

Sensing nothing, Alex opened his eyes and clicked his tongue in annoyance. He honestly wanted to punch someone—whether it was a monster or another Taken.

With a sigh, he took a step—and in the next moment found himself by the hotel.

Reaching his floor, Alex stopped at the door to his room and listened. Hearing the steady breathing of a sleeping Dean, he decided not to make any noise. Instead of opening the door, Alex simply became intangible and silently passed through it, without disturbing his partner.

Once in the room, Alex glanced at Dean, who, as usual, was asleep, clutching a pistol in his hand. Then his gaze shifted to the laptop on the desk. For a moment, Alex wondered—maybe he should sacrifice sleep again and continue working.

But someone else made the decision for him.

From the shadow behind him, long black hair slowly appeared. It coiled around Alex, leaving him no chance to resist, and pulled him toward the bed. Zhang Ya literally pinned him to the mattress with her hair, making it unmistakably clear that arguing was useless—he was going to sleep, whether he wanted it or not.

Understanding what his silent wife wanted, Alex just closed his eyes—and almost instantly fell asleep, unaware of what awaited him the next day.

Alex woke to the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the room. Opening his eyes, he saw Dean’s sleepy face, desperately trying to wake up, rubbing his face with one hand while holding a mug in the other.

Alex couldn’t help but notice that in moments like this, he and Dean looked ridiculously alike.

Rising from the bed and rubbing his face at the same time, Alex felt as if a monster had been under the bed all night and someone had decided to beat him with a stick. His body ached, and his head felt like cotton. He sat at the desk, pulled the coffee mug closer, and dropped his head onto the tabletop, trying to fully wake up.

At that moment, he heard a phrase from Dean that struck him as… strange.

“Say that again? What did you just say?” Alex asked, looking up at him.

“I’m saying you can go out somewhere today. I’ve got a date,” Dean replied, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Wait, hold on,” Alex straightened. “Who’s your date? Don’t tell me it’s who I’m thinking of.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded.

“Oh…” Alex raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I should make something for your romantic dinner then?”

Dean stared at him, stunned. He definitely hadn’t expected that reaction. No yelling, no lectures, no usual ‘that’s dangerous’—nothing of the sort. Especially considering that if Sam were in his place, he would have given a two-hour-long lecture by now.

Alex was indeed surprised, but in a completely different way. His only concern was why Amara decided to have dinner with Dean. Nothing else mattered.

“Dude… where’s all the stuff like ‘that’s dangerous,’ ‘you shouldn’t do that,’ and all that?” Dean squinted.

“Look, Dean,” Alex began calmly, tapping his fingers on the table. “Amara could’ve killed me twice. But she didn’t. And everything you’ve told me about her visiting you in your dreams… makes me doubt that she’s really a villain.”

He paused briefly.

“Yeah, she wants revenge. And who wouldn’t, if your own brother locked you in a cage for billions of years? With all her power, she could’ve wiped this world to dust ages ago—and we wouldn’t have been able to do a thing. Absolutely nothing. She’s not some minor monster we can take down in batches. She’s the sister of a damn God. All we can do now is keep our mouths shut and find a way to keep the world intact.”

Dean slowly shook his head.

“You know… when you put it like that, I don’t even have any arguments to dispute it. So… you’re really going to go out somewhere?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Alex nodded. “I’ll make something for your romantic dinner. And for heaven’s sake, Dean… don’t be yourself. The last thing we need is for Amara to get even angrier.”

“I’ve got this covered,” Dean smirked. “I know how to deal with women.”

“Women—yeah,” Alex said, staring at him blankly. “Mortal women. Not a cosmic entity who can erase a whole damn world with a snap of her fingers. I get it, you’re badass: you took down the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, destroyed monsters by the dozens, you and Sam even killed Death itself. But this… this is a whole different level.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Dean waved him off, rolling his eyes. “Enough lectures. Who’s the adult here—you or me? How old are you, eighteen or nineteen? And I’m almost forty.”

“And I still say I’m the adult here,” Alex countered, rolling his eyes in response.

Alex and Dean looked at each other once more, rolled their eyes in perfect unison, and then laughed—the situation was far too absurd, especially considering Dean was about to have a date with the sister of a God.

Chuckling, Alex set about preparing dinner for Dean and Amara, making sure everything would go smoothly without unnecessary tension. He even pulled a bottle of wine from his inventory—it seemed entirely appropriate for such an evening.

Dean watched him the entire time, shaking his head and once again realizing how quickly Alex had become part of their family. He already saw him as a younger brother—the kind who would always support or give advice, even though, by rights, Dean should have been the elder in that role.

After sitting a bit longer, Dean got up and left the room. Heading outside, he approached his Impala, opened the trunk, and then the hidden compartment with his weapons. After a moment’s thought, he grabbed a small knife and returned to the hotel.

“Where were you?” Alex asked, turning toward him as Dean entered the room.

“Picked up a little gift for your pale girlfriend. Considering how gloomy she is… I think a knife will do,” Dean said, placing it on the table.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. And maybe even try it out on me,” Alex replied dryly, coughing slightly.

“Well, you got yourself into this. Now you deal with it,” Dean said with a playful smirk.

Alex rolled his eyes again, fully aware that Dean was already mentally waiting for the moment he’d get stabbed. Suppressing his irritation, he returned to cooking—right up until Castiel suddenly appeared in the room.

The angel held an object that suspiciously resembled a sealed painting. With his usual calm expression, he leaned it against the wall. Alex and Dean exchanged glances, examining the black gift-wrapped package with a white ribbon.

“So, what did the angelic delivery service bring us this time?” Dean asked with a grin.

“Alice asked me to deliver the painting as a gift. And she said not to open it,” Castiel replied evenly, first looking at Dean and then at Alex, who had already reached for the package.

Alex raised an eyebrow. From Castiel’s expression, it was clear: if he tried to open the gift, the angel would stop him immediately. The next moment, Castiel disappeared, as if he had never been there.

Alex and Dean shrugged simultaneously. They had long since gotten used to the fact that Castiel was just Castiel.

Leaving the painting unopened, Alex finished preparing dinner for Dean’s date with Amara. Then he took the gift painting and the knife intended for Wednesday. As he stepped out of the hotel, he thought: this is still not enough.

Rummaging through his inventory, he settled on one of the books from his personal collection—a compendium of dark legends, raw and unsoftened. Exactly the kind of thing that might interest Wednesday. Using magic, Alex wrapped the book in black gift paper.

Stepping into an alley, he took a step—and found himself not far from Nevermore.

Walking across the academy grounds with the gifts in hand, Alex headed toward the dormitory. Reaching the top floor, where Wednesday and Enid’s room was located, he already heard their voices on the stairs.

Enid’s excited tone was unmistakable. She was clearly talking about her gift. Going up further, Alex peeked into the open door and saw Enid handing Wednesday a hand-stitched black scarf. Enid herself had an identical one—but in pink. She spoke enthusiastically about how fun it would be to wear matching scarves.

“Knock-knock. Did I interrupt?” Alex said, lightly tapping the doorframe.

Enid and Wednesday turned their heads at the same time and saw Alex standing in the doorway with his usual calm smile. Enid immediately lit up at the sight of him, while Wednesday only slightly raised an eyebrow, noticing what he was holding.

Alex calmly stepped into the room, slowly closing the door behind him, and set the gifts on the table. His gaze briefly flicked to the bed, where Wednesday’s gift from her parents already lay—a taxidermy kit with all the tools and even a few stuffed squirrels.

“Don’t tell me you came with gifts too,” Wednesday said evenly, nodding toward the bundles in his hands.

“Kind of,” Alex shrugged.

He laid everything out on the table.

“The knife— from Dean. The book of legends— from me. And this,” he nodded at the sealed painting, “was sent by someone in my family. Specifically for you.”

Wednesday studied the gifts carefully, then looked at Alex. He returned a lazy, almost indifferent glance, clearly signaling: you can look for yourself.

Wednesday approached the table and picked up the knife first. Enid watched with slight embarrassment, suddenly realizing that her scarf might be the “most normal” gift of them all. Spinning the knife in her hand, Wednesday first looked at the blade, then at Alex.

“Nice gift. My old knife broke,” she said calmly, slipping it into her pocket.

“And what about the book?” Enid immediately asked, bouncing closer.

“A collection of legends and dark tales,” Alex replied, lazily rocking in his chair. “No happy endings.”

“Perfect as a bedtime story,” Wednesday remarked, opening the book and scanning the first page with her eyes.

She nodded toward the last bundle.

“And the painting?”

“I don’t know,” Alex answered honestly. “I haven’t opened it.”

“Wednesday, let’s open it,” Enid said with a smile. “I want to see it too.”

Wednesday looked at Alex once more, but he just shrugged. After a short pause, she tore off the wrapping.

And froze.

Enid cautiously peeked over her shoulder—and froze as well.

Alex looked at the painting and allowed himself a faint smile.

The canvas depicted a blazing statue engulfed in bright flames, tongues of fire reaching high into the sky. The light cast a long shadow of a devil holding a violin—only the horns, rainbow-colored eyes, and an unnaturally wide, sharp-toothed grin were visible. Nearby stood a girl in black clothing with pale skin, playing a cello.

Alex immediately understood: Alice could not have missed the chance to capture this moment in her own style.

Wednesday stared at the painting without blinking. She understood exactly what was depicted. And, more importantly, she genuinely liked it.

“Somewhat… dark,” muttered Enid.

“I like it,” Wednesday said, shifting her gaze to Alex. “But how?”

“Someone in my family has the gift of foresight,” he replied calmly. “She usually draws what she sees. That’s the result.”

“She?” Wednesday squinted.

“Not telling,” Alex smirked and changed the subject. “Alright. What do we do now? I need somewhere to kill time until tomorrow.”

“Why?” Enid asked. “Something’s going to happen?”

“Nothing special,” Alex replied, spinning slightly in his chair. “Dean has a date today, and I need somewhere to wait it out. We could go to Jericho, have some coffee. Or I could just go to sleep.”

“I’m in!” Enid immediately perked up. “Wednesday, you should agree. It’s your day, after all.”

“Every day is mine,” Wednesday said evenly. “Today just happens to include congratulations and cake.”

Wednesday shifted her gaze to Enid, who was clearly hoping she would agree, then looked back at Alex. He, in his usual manner, appeared just as calm and ready—whether to go out for a walk or turn around and go back to sleep.

Weighing the pros and cons, Wednesday looked at the drawing lying on her desk. She had drawn it after the vision in the crypt—when Goody had told her that in that very place she would find all the answers. Wednesday glanced at Alex again and suddenly thought that perhaps he possessed the very knowledge that could help her figure things out.

Nodding, Wednesday grabbed her backpack and silently agreed.

Enid immediately lit up with happiness. She even suggested wearing matching scarves, but Wednesday refused with a cold expression.

Leaving the grounds of Nevermore, Alex, Enid, and Wednesday headed to Jericho—specifically to the “Flügel” café.

Sitting at a table, Alex occasionally glanced at his phone, expecting possible messages from the Bureau of Control task forces. Sipping his coffee, he listened as Wednesday explained to Enid why she considered birthdays to be banal events.

In her view, every year was the same: the same gifts, the same surprises. The only thing that truly pleased Wednesday was the thought that she was one year closer to death. Enid listened with a strained smile, still adjusting to Wednesday’s worldview and her attitude toward life.

Alex smirked when his phone rang and answered the call. Enid and Wednesday immediately turned to look at him as he spoke.

As soon as Alex heard the question on the other end, a headache immediately struck him. Once again, he had to explain to yet another agent what not to do and how exactly to proceed.

Watching Alex “in work mode,” Enid and Wednesday couldn’t help but listen, even without understanding all the details of the conversation.

After finishing the call, Alex became even more convinced that after Jericho, he would have to pay a visit to the Eldest House and at least “kick” Ahti.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, Alex noticed Tyler standing behind the counter. He occasionally glanced toward Wednesday.

“Since you’re done,” Wednesday said, pulling the drawing from her pocket, “do you know what this place is?”

“Those are the Gates family gates. I walked past once, but didn’t have time to go in. Why?” Alex answered, studying the drawing.

“Then let’s go,” Wednesday said, rising from her chair.

“Wait. Where are we going?” Enid asked, confused, not having time to process how the conversation had shifted so suddenly.

“To the Gates family house,” Wednesday replied calmly, heading for the exit without waiting for anyone.

Enid looked at Alex, expecting his reaction.

Alex sighed, stroked Enid’s hair, and stood up as well. Enid understood she had no choice and reluctantly followed them.

As they left, Alex glanced at Tyler and was almost certain he would call Marilyn to report what was happening. Squinting, Alex, together with Enid, exited the café.

Catching up with Wednesday, the three of them headed toward the old Gates family house.

Enid walked next to Alex, holding his hand tightly. Wednesday moved on the other side—calmly, but close enough.

After some time, they arrived at a house hidden behind an old rusty fence. Bushes had long since overgrown along it, and the gates looked grim—not to mention the house itself.

Studying the building, Alex squinted slightly and looked toward the basement. Through the walls, he could see jars with body parts—the very ones Marilyn had been collecting for her ritual.

“Garrett Gates lived here,” Wednesday said, alternating her gaze between the drawing and the gates. “My father was accused of his murder. The sheriff said the entire family died. But I don’t believe that.”

“What a creepy house…” Enid said softly, squeezing Alex’s hand tighter. “We’re not going inside, right?”

“Why not?” Wednesday replied calmly. “If there are answers there, we have to go in. Don’t want to—you don’t have to. No one’s forcing you.”

She cast a cold glance at Enid.

“Scaredy-wolf.”

Enid looked at Wednesday with her icy, unreadable expression, then pleaded with her eyes toward Alex, clearly begging him not to go into that creepy place.

Alex just smiled calmly and gently stroked Enid’s hair, letting her know there was nothing to fear. All Enid could do was whimper quietly, squeezing his hand even tighter.

Even though the sun had not yet set, the Gates family house looked dark and ominous. Abandoned and darkened by time, it seemed to have absorbed everything that had ever happened within its walls. Enid knew there was no turning back. And she certainly didn’t want to look like a coward in Alex’s eyes. She gripped his hand even tighter.

Wednesday pushed the gates, which groaned open with a long, mournful squeak. As soon as they stepped onto the property, Alex closed his eyes for a moment and smirked. He sensed two presences inside the house: one on the upper floor, the other on the first floor.

It wasn’t hard to guess who they belonged to. The first—Marilyn. The second—Mayor Walker.

When Wednesday reached the front door, she paused for a moment, about to open it, but footsteps sounded from the other side. Alex reacted instantly—grabbing Wednesday by the hand and pulling both girls sharply aside, out of sight.

At that same moment, Mayor Walker emerged from the house, holding a folder. Wednesday and Enid exchanged surprised glances. It was completely unclear what the mayor was doing in such a place. Without waiting for Alex or Enid, Wednesday quietly began sneaking after the mayor, clearly intending to eavesdrop on his conversation.

Alex just shook his head. Holding Enid’s hand, he carefully followed. Hiding nearby in the bushes, all three of them listened. The mayor was already speaking on the phone—Alex immediately realized he was talking to Sheriff Donovan.

Alex already knew: Walker had figured out who was behind all the murders. And by doing so, he had just hung a huge target on his own back.

“No wonder Mayor Walker used to be a sheriff,” Alex said quietly. “Looks like he figured out someone from the Gates family is behind all this.”

“You… you already knew?” Enid whispered, crouching beside him and hiding behind the bushes.

“More like I put everything together after recent events,” Alex replied, frowning. “But where’s Wednesday?”

Enid immediately looked around. Neither Wednesday nor Thing was nearby. They quickly scanned the area and saw Wednesday silently approaching the mayor’s car.

Alex’s head instantly ached. He realized that Wednesday had decided to climb into Walker’s car on her own, to follow him.

Enid watched in sheer horror, and the question in her eyes was unmistakable:”For the love of everything holy, what is she doing?”

The last thing Alex and Enid saw was Wednesday’s calm, focused gaze as she disappeared into the trunk of Mayor Walker’s car.

“Is that why she’s always like this?..” Enid groaned, watching the spectacle.

“Don’t ask,” Alex sighed wearily. “She’s used to doing everything herself. And this is the result.”

Enid looked at Alex and nodded, understanding what he meant. Before they could recover, Mayor Walker got into the car and drove off—back toward the city, to stop by the Flügel café and tell Sheriff Donovan everything he had managed to find out.

Alex winced. He knew perfectly well what was supposed to happen next. Very soon, the mayor would be hit by a car and would never make it to the café. There was too little time left. Realizing he had to hurry to save Walker, Alex abruptly scooped Enid up into his arms. The girl let out a quiet yelp in surprise and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.

Exhaling a cloud of white vapor, Alex burst forward and sprinted after the mayor’s car. Enid wasn’t even surprised by what he was capable of. She just pressed herself closer to him, trying not to look down or think about how fast they were moving.

Alex kept his distance—close enough not to lose sight of the car, but far enough to stay unseen. Reaching the city, he turned into the alleys, avoiding crowded streets. He already knew where the mayor was headed.

When they ran out of another alley, Alex stopped abruptly. Mayor Walker was just getting out of his car. And in the very next second, he was struck by a blue car that shot out from around the corner. The impact—and the vehicle vanished, as if it had never existed.

Enid’s eyes widened in horror. Sheriff Donovan, who was inside the Flügel café, saw everything through the window and immediately rushed outside. Alex set Enid down and was instantly at the bleeding mayor’s side. Donovan was already there, shouting for someone to call an ambulance.

Alex dropped to one knee and worked discreetly. Inside, Walker was literally reduced to a mess—the impact had been far too strong. Alex quickly restored the damaged organs, fused broken bones, and repaired the ribs that had punctured the lungs. Just enough to keep the mayor alive—and just enough that no one would notice.

When the ambulance arrived, Walker was placed on a stretcher and rushed to the hospital.

Alex stood up, patted Donovan on the shoulder, and gently guided him back into the café. The sheriff didn’t resist—his hands were still shaking.

Meanwhile, Wednesday quietly climbed out of the trunk of the mayor’s car. No one noticed.

“You were in the right place at the right time, agent,” Donovan said heavily. “Thank you.”

“Just lucky I was nearby,” Alex replied calmly, giving a slight nod. “I hope he pulls through.”

He glanced at a nearby table, where Wednesday and Enid were already sitting.

“When Walker was still sheriff, we used to meet here often,” Donovan continued with a hint of a smile. “At this very table. He came up with the wildest theories about unsolved cases… and we’d discuss them over coffee and pie. Usually none of them were right, but… it was a good time.”

“My partner and I do that sometimes too,” Alex said, taking a sip of his coffee.

He paused, then added more quietly:

“I don’t want to go into details right now, Donovan. But mayors don’t usually get run over by cars—unless they know something they shouldn’t.”

The sheriff let out a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to tell me anything. He called me earlier… said he’d picked up on something and wanted to talk in person. But I’m afraid he’s not in any condition right now.”

“I understand,” Alex nodded. “Let’s hope he recovers. That’s all we can do for now.”

He set his empty cup on the table.

“And you be careful too, Sheriff. Whoever hit the mayor might come after you next. The deeper my partner and I dig into this case, the more tangled it becomes.”

“You already have suspects?” Donovan frowned. “Who could have done this?”

“Someone who hates this town and Nevermore,” Alex replied, rising from the table. “That’s all I can say. Otherwise, you might be next on the list. My partner and I were targeted too. We were lucky. The mayor wasn’t.”

Donovan nodded slowly.

“I’ll post a guard outside his hospital room.”

“And watch yourself as well,” Alex said, patting him on the shoulder. “Unfortunately, the nature of our bureau doesn’t allow us to say more.”

Sheriff Donovan nodded silently, looking at Alex. He already understood that things were far from simple. The situation was rapidly escalating—the perpetrator was so insane that he was willing to take out two federal agents and had no hesitation in hitting the city’s mayor with a car.

Alex shifted his gaze to Wednesday. She was listening intently, clearly hoping to learn what exactly the mayor had discovered in the Gates family house. But that knowledge was now lost—at least, for the moment.

Enid, meanwhile, was in complete shock over what had happened. Their usual stroll had suddenly turned into an excursion to an abandoned house, and then into a nightmarish scene with an attempted murder of the mayor right before their eyes.

Alex gestured for the girls to follow him, briefly locking eyes with Tyler, who was doing his best to look like a shocked bystander, unable to believe what had just happened. A thought flashed through Alex’s mind again—just end Tyler, and then Marilyn. Here. Now.

He forced himself to suppress the urge.

Together with the girls, Alex left the café.

“Let’s go. I’ll drive you back to Nevermore,” he said, lighting a cigarette.

“We need to check the Gates family house,” Wednesday said calmly. “Find out what the mayor discovered, since someone decided to get rid of him.”

“Not now, Wednesday,” Enid snapped sharply, unable to hold back her emotions. “We just saw someone get hit by a car, and you’re suggesting we go into the place that even someone tried to kill the mayor over! Do you even understand what you’re saying?!”

Alex gently placed his hand on Enid’s head, soothing her.

“Enid, don’t be angry. Nobody expected this outcome,” he said, then looked at Wednesday. “And you, my dear. We’re not going there right now. The culprit could still be inside. If you want—we can go back in a couple of hours. Do you agree?”

Wednesday looked into his eyes and slowly nodded. In that moment, she understood clearly—Alex wasn’t arguing with her, he was simply caring.

The touch calmed Enid gradually. Her breathing became heavier—another nervous breakdown had nearly overtaken her.

They got into Dean’s Impala and drove back to Nevermore. Since no one had noticed Wednesday climbing out of Mayor Walker’s trunk, she didn’t run into any trouble with Larissa Weems. Alex explained it simply: they had been walking nearby and witnessed the accident.

Back in Nevermore, Alex went with Enid and Wednesday to their room. Entering, he looked around and, without asking unnecessary questions, lay down on Enid’s bed, first taking off his coat and shoes.

Enid stared at him in silent shock. Wednesday looked at him with a blank, unreadable expression.

“So, what shall we do while we wait?” Alex asked, resting his hands behind his head.

“Why are you lying on my bed?” Enid asked, confused.

“Just because,” Alex shrugged. “If you think there won’t be enough space—you’ll all fit. Lie down. We’ll have to wait until night anyway to go to the suspected killer’s house. And there’s no point in going back to the hotel—Dean has a date.”

He gave a slight smile and patted the space next to him.

Enid looked at Alex’s brazen behavior, and at that very moment, an insistent inner voice sprang up in her mind, stubbornly insisting that she should lie down next to him. Without resisting the impulse for a single second, Enid leapt onto the bed and lay down beside Alex, pressing her side against him.

Watching the scene, Wednesday felt a dark and exceedingly insistent voice echo in her own mind. She calmly turned her gaze away from Alex and Enid lying together and decided to pass the time her own way—by working on her novel. The typewriter was her best method for clearing her mind of unnecessary thoughts.

“Perhaps there’s something in the Gates family house that the criminal is desperately trying to hide from prying eyes,” Wednesday said, her eyes fixed on the keys.

“That’s one possibility,” Alex replied calmly, stroking Enid’s hair. She was lying next to him, resting her head on his chest. “You’ve already realized that everything is somehow connected to the Gates family. Now here’s a question to think about: the entire Gates family is dead. So who’s the culprit?”

“Someone among the supposed distant relatives seeking revenge,” Wednesday said, continuing to type. “Or someone from the Gates themselves.”

“But aren’t all the Gates family members dead?” Enid asked sleepily, half-opening her eyes. She was almost dozing off from the gentle caresses.

“They only found the bodies of three out of four,” Alex replied, softly running his fingers along her cheek. “Laurel Gates died in another country. Perhaps she was sheltered by a distant relative. After her death, that relative decided to take revenge on everyone—Jericho and Nevermore in general. And that means…”

“What exactly?” Wednesday turned her head and looked at Alex with a cold gaze, noticing how he had started gently pinching Enid’s cheeks.

“It means,” Alex continued without stopping his movements, causing Enid to giggle softly, “that if we don’t find the culprit, Jericho will become a second Bright Falls. And no one—neither the residents nor the students of Nevermore—will have anything good waiting for them. For now, we know one thing: all of this is directly connected to you, Wednesday. To the Gates family and Joseph Cracklestone. Based on all the information, the conclusion is obvious.”

“Can you stop doing that and just explain properly?” Wednesday said coldly. “Do you all have a habit of speaking in riddles?”

“I’ve already given you all the clues,” Alex replied with a slight smile, looking her in the eyes. “Just put them together. The Book of Shadows. The murdered tourists. The prophecy. The burning academy. Joseph Cracklestone. The ritual. You’re smart enough to figure it out.”

Alex’s words made Wednesday think. She froze, staring at a single point. Noticing the expression on her face, Alex smiled—he was confident she had already started piecing the puzzle together.

He looked at Enid, whose cheeks were still caught between his fingers. Making sure Wednesday wasn’t watching, Alex leaned down and quickly kissed Enid on the lips.

Enid’s eyes widened in surprise. She immediately glanced toward Wednesday, then exhaled in relief when she realized that she hadn’t noticed anything. After that, Enid shot Alex an angry look and lightly tapped his chest.

Alex just smiled, pulled her closer, and suggested putting on a movie to pass the time. Enid practically melted in his arms and agreed to anything, as long as he kept holding her close.

To be continued…

(That’s right, Dean will have a date with Amara. I initially said I liked the romantic tension between Dean and Amara, but unfortunately, the show didn’t develop it. And now I’m trying to remember what the hell happened in the first season of Wednesday. I only remember the basic events, which is enough for me. Okay, as usual, the voices in my head will tell me everything.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep