Chapter 246: Wednesday’s Diary I

[Wednesday’s POV]

January 12

I returned to Nevermore on Monday, feeling renewed.

After spending the entire weekend with Luke, most of my irritation and foul mood had faded.

I forgave him, even though he didn’t keep his promise, only because I saw the sadness in his eyes after losing Edgar.

Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been so lenient. The death of his great-great-grandfather affected him more than he admits.

His new strength is making him more confident… and that says a lot, coming from someone who was already arrogant by nature. Not in a bad way, though, he takes his battles very seriously, just like I do.

What bothers me is how kamikaze he gets when he could easily avoid a life-or-death situation.

If I have to be the one to give him a harsh dose of reality, I’ll do it without blinking. For his sake, and mine.

Coming back to Nevermore felt like returning to an illusion.

The facade of normality is so absurd it sometimes feels like a poorly written play: classes; homework; practical training; school events like the Poe Cup right around the corner; seniors worrying about who’s next to receive a letter of recommendation from the outcasts universities…

But beneath that calm, there’s a tension in the air.

Outside, there’s fire. The war can’t be seen, but it’s there, silent.

The division has never been clearer.

In theory, we’re all on the same side: the Outcast Council, justice (very different from normie justice, of course), order, etc.

The Spellmans were publicly condemned. The evidence was undeniable: dealings with demons, betrayal of humanity. The worst accusation any outcast, or in this case, an entire outcast family, can face.

Edward Spellman’s ultimate goal? The extermination of normies. At least in America.

It wasn’t just irrational hatred driving Edward. From what Edgar told Luke, and Luke told me, Edward had a “rational” reason, if it can even be called that.

According to him, normies are destroying the planet. They promote war, pollution, control. And if no one stops them… they’ll eventually wipe us out too, as collateral damage.

A speech claiming normies are worse than demons. That’s why so many secretly sympathize with the Spellmans.

At first, it was just a few. Then they grew. Now they hide behind neutral flags.

They say they don’t support violence. That they prefer coexistence. But it’s all lies.

They’re opportunists and passive accomplices.

Even at Nevermore, the division and tension are noticeable.

Despite being historically more “pro-normie” than other institutions, even hosting an annual integration day in Jericho, where students are forced to help the human community with rural and social tasks, most students can barely hide their contempt.

And the people of Jericho make no effort to hide theirs either.

Normies have always seen the students of the gothic academy hidden in the woods as freaks.

So even if Nevermore is a pro-normie institution, its students have always been neutral or held a negative view of normies because of how they’ve been treated.

When it came out among the students that Crackstone was actually a genocidal murderer of the outcast and that he possessed the demonic book of Soyga, it didn’t help things… and that was partly mine and Luke’s fault.

The relationship has always been tense.

But now… it’s worse.

On paper, we have the upper hand, since the criminals are the Spellmans, who are going against the Outcast Council.

The Addams family, my family, with my father as the head of the demon extermination department, has resources and power.

Other important psychic families like the Umbrio, the Thorpes, and the Faulkners (one of the Six Great Families; Nathaniel Faulkner was a founder of Nevermore) are strong and reliable allies.

Even though the Umbrio and Thorpe families aren’t considered as ancient as the Six Great Families, their power and resources shouldn’t be underestimated. It’s fortunate that they’re reliable allies, with trusted connections to Luke (Xavier, Veronica, and Stalin).

But it would be a mistake to think the balance doesn’t tremble. Because it does.

The Von Drachens, another of the Six Great Families, present themselves as allies of the Council, but I don’t trust them.

Too clean. Too perfect.

Their ancestor was the founder of the Academy of Dark Arts, the other Outcast institution in the United States, besides Nevermore.

However, that academy is known for its blatant supremacism. They openly despise normies, as if they were pests. It would make sense for them to sympathize with the Spellmans.

I have no proof, so nothing can be done about it. Unfortunately.

Then there are the Frumps. My mother’s family.

Officially, they’re neutral. But knowing that doesn’t bring me any comfort.

My mother comes from that family, and I know her relationship with her sister and mother (my aunt and grandmother) is strained.

Marriage between members of the Six Great Families is almost unthinkable. Too much pride. Too much lineage to protect.

And when it does happen, like with my parents, it’s inevitable that one of the two families feels like they lost.

The Addamses won.

My mother’s psychic talent now runs through my veins, and my stupid brother’s, and we carry the Addams name instead of Frump.

Everyone in the Frump family felt like they lost. Not just two powerful psychics, but an heiress with two auras: me.

That’s why I don’t fully trust them. I just hope they don’t side with the Spellmans. I know their history leans closer to supremacism than to coexistence.

I know they look at normies the way one looks at a cockroach crawling across a velvet tablecloth.

But I also know my mother, raised in that elegant darkness, has always hated demons.

To her, making pacts with such creatures is the ultimate betrayal of humanity and a disgrace to the psychic legacy.

She always taught me there’s a line you never cross when studying dark books.

That makes me assume my grandmother must think the same way.

Although with that woman… assuming is always dangerous.

Sometimes I wonder how absurd that wedding between my parents must have been.

A line of Frumps, gothic and elegant, sitting in complete silence, judging my father’s every move as if it were a personal offense to their psychic legacy.

Thinking about that led my mind to Luke, and the idea of a future wedding with him.

Would we ever get married? After the war? After we finish high school?

My parents got married at just 18, a few months after graduating from Nevermore.

It’s a thought that should repel me.

Marriage, in essence, is a ceremony designed to turn emotions into legal contracts.

An event filled with social expectations I neither respect nor wish to fulfill.

But thinking about it with him… doesn’t bother me.

In fact, it might not be so bad.

“Wednesday Poe,” I thought.

It didn’t sound so bad in my head.

Solid. Dark. Distinctive.

Of course, that would mean leaving the Addams name behind, but I wouldn’t see it as a loss.

If Luke were to take my last name, that would be unacceptable.

Erasing the Poe bloodline would be an atrocity not even love could justify.

I wouldn’t allow it.

And he, by conviction and because of what he promised Edgar, wouldn’t either.

Just then, the door to the room opened.

“Hey,” said Enid, stepping in with the pace of someone trying hard not to look anxious. “Are you busy?”

I know where her anxiety comes from, even if she tries to mask it behind that calm facade.

I slowly took my hands off the typewriter.

“No, I was just working on my novel,” I replied, as if my mind hadn’t been wandering seconds ago through the thought of a possible wedding with Luke.

Also, I lied.

I wasn’t working on my novel, but on a journal I decided to start a few days ago.

A way to stay organized with so many things demanding attention.

Enid took off her uniform jacket with automatic motions, pretending not to glance sideways at the typewriter or my face.

“How were your mini-vacations?” she asked with a tone so rehearsed, it felt like an insult to her own intelligence.

“Normal,” I said in a flat tone.

I saw the subtle twitch of her left eyebrow rising just a millimeter. And I knew she still wasn’t satisfied with the answer I gave.

“And Luke? Did he complete his mission?” she asked, like someone making small talk about the weather.

I slowly turned my face toward her and narrowed my eyes.

So easy to read.

Ever since she decided to stop pursuing him, she’s made an admirable effort to appear indifferent.

She doesn’t say his name, doesn’t look for him, tries not to listen too closely when we talk on video calls.

But that doesn’t mean she’s stopped caring.

“He’s alive. Unharmed. Didn’t keep his promise, of course,” I replied coldly.

She had overheard the conversation I had with Luke the other day, so she knew he had gone on a decoy mission to retrieve the Poe Soul Weapon.

Enid let out a dry, humorless laugh, “Typical of him. Throwing himself into battle when he could’ve had help from your father and uncle.”

She didn’t sound angry. She sounded resigned.

“I already gave him the necessary lecture,” I said.

She nodded naturally. “Good. Someone has to. Sometimes he needs to be pulled off that superiority cloud before he ends up in real danger.”

She didn’t say it with bitterness.

She said it like someone who knows him far too well.

I didn’t respond, so she continued, “I guess he must be affected by what happened with Edgar too, right?”

I looked at her. Of course she knew. Luke must’ve told her about the ghost Edgar who helped train him when they were together.

“He’s sad. He won’t fully admit it, but he is,” I finally said.

I noticed it during the days we spent together, even though he tried to act strong. The way he looked at the pendant where Edgar once rested, one he now always wears.

Enid lay on her side on her bed and looked at me, “Then maybe you should… I don’t know… be a little soft with him. Not so cold. Just this once.”

I raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

She held my gaze with a slight, almost teasing smile, “I mean, if you need a tactical excuse, just call it post-grief emotional support to boost the soldier’s morale,” she added.

“I already did. I skipped school on Friday and spent three full days with him. I just got back today,” I answered, flatly.

I saw her eyes blink, just barely.

Not out of jealousy, this time.

But from a strange mix of surprise… and understanding.

“Mm, fair point,” she said, and after that, we both returned to what we were doing.

In that moment, we shared something.

The fact that we both knew Luke more than we cared to admit.

And both of us, in our own way, cared about him.

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