Chapter 7: Fester's Spark
The Nevermore woods were a labyrinth of shadows, gnarled branches clawing at a moonless sky like skeletal fingers. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth, undercut by a feral musk that set Adam's nerves jangling like a glitched arcade machine. He trudged beside Wednesday, her flashlight beam slicing through the gloom, catching glints of dew on spiderwebs that shimmered like traps. Her crossbow hung at her side, its steel glinting coldly, her braids swaying with each precise step. "Hyde sightings," she said, her voice a low, sharp blade. "Stay alert, Stiels."
"Always," Adam replied, flashing a grin that hid his racing pulse. His HUD glowed faintly in his mind's eye:
[System: 1 Ultimate Skill Card Remaining. Active Skills: Ultimate Immortal Body, Ultimate Illusion Creation.]
One card left, he thought, fingers twitching in his jacket pocket. His illusions had saved the Nightshades last week, but he needed something bigger, something to match Wednesday's intensity. Her dark eyes flicked to him, assessing, and his crush flared, a steady ember he couldn't quite snuff out. Focus, Stiels. Monsters first, romance later.
A rustle broke the silence, sharp and deliberate, and a figure bounded from the dark—bald, grinning, crackling with static like a human Tesla coil. "Wednesday, my favorite niece!" Uncle Fester called, his eyes wild with glee, his trench coat flapping like a bat's wings. Wednesday didn't smile, but her posture softened, a rare warmth flickering in her expression.
"Fester," she said, stopping. "You're early."
"Couldn't miss the fun!" Fester replied, his grin wide enough to split his face. He turned to Adam, sizing him up like a carnival prize. "Who's this sparkplug?"
"Adam Stiels," he said, extending a hand, his smirk masking a surge of curiosity. Fester grabbed it, his grip firm, and a jolt shot through Adam—electric, wild, like plunging his hand into a live socket. Blue sparks danced across his skin, and the HUD blazed:
[System: Ultimate Skill Card Used. Skill Copied: Lightning Manipulation. Ultimate Lightning Body Acquired.]
Power surged, a tingling rush that set his nerves alight. Blue arcs crackled around his fingers, alive and sentient, bending to his will. Three skills, zero cards, he thought, flexing his hand. The lightning hummed, eager, like a loyal pet waiting for a command. Now we're talking.
Fester cackled, clapping Adam on the back hard enough to make him stumble. "You're a live wire, kid! Use it well."
Wednesday raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp as a scalpel. "Another trick?"
"More like an upgrade," Adam said, grinning wider. "Personal thunderstorm, at your service."
Her lips twitched, intrigued but guarded, and she turned back to the woods. "Stay focused," she said, resuming her march. Adam followed, Fester trailing behind, regaling them with tales of Addams family chaos—dynamite picnics, electrified guillotines, the usual. Adam half-listened, his senses sharp for danger. The air grew colder, the musk thicker, and a low growl rumbled through the trees, guttural and primal.
The Hyde burst from the shadows, a hulking mass of matted fur and gleaming claws, its yellow eyes blazing with feral rage. Its breath steamed in the chill air, teeth bared in a snarl that vibrated through Adam's bones. Wednesday drew her crossbow with a snap, but Adam acted first, lightning coiling around his arm like a serpent. He unleashed a bolt, blue and crackling, striking the beast's chest with a thunderous boom. It roared, stumbling back, fur singed, and Wednesday fired, her bolt sinking into its shoulder with a wet thunk. Black blood oozed, dripping onto the forest floor.
The Hyde charged again, claws slashing. Adam grabbed Wednesday's arm, yanking her aside as he threw up an illusion—phantom wolves circling the beast, their snarls echoing through the trees. The Hyde swiped, claws passing through air, its confusion palpable. Bianca emerged from the shadows, her tranquilizer gun raised, and fired a dart that hit the beast's flank. It roared, eyes flickering human for a split second, then crashed through the underbrush, retreating into the night.
Breathless, they stopped by a stream, its water glinting under faint starlight, the sound of its flow a soft counterpoint to their panting. Fester clapped Adam's shoulder, grinning. "Nice one, kid! You're Addams material."
Wednesday holstered her crossbow, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp with new respect. "You didn't die," she said, her voice steady. "Impressive."
"High bar," Adam panted, smirking through the adrenaline. "I aim to please."
She turned away, but he caught the flicker of approval in her glance. Progress, he thought, his heart pounding not just from the fight.
Back at Nevermore, Adam found Xavier in the art room, the air thick with the smell of paint and charcoal. Xavier was sketching furiously under a flickering bulb, his long fingers smudged with graphite. "Thorpe," Adam said, leaning in the doorway, "miss me?"
Xavier glared, his pencil snapping in half. "Your illusions are freaky, Stiels. What's next?"
Adam grinned, summoning a tiny lightning bolt that zapped a nearby canvas, singeing it black with a crackle. Xavier jumped, cursing loudly, his sketchpad clattering to the floor. "Oops," Adam said, laughing. "Guess I'm full of surprises."
"Watch it," Xavier snapped, but his scowl softened, a grudging respect creeping in. One crack in the wall, Adam thought, filing it away.
Later, in the dorms, Enid sat on her bed, staring at her hands, her face pale under the glow of fairy lights strung across her wall. "Still no wolf," she muttered, her voice small, almost lost in the room's quiet.
Adam flopped beside her, the mattress creaking under his weight. "Give it time, Sinclair. You're not a quitter."
She managed a faint smile, her blue eyes meeting his. "You're weirdly good at this pep-talk thing."
"Hidden talent," he said, winking. "Stick with me, and we'll get that wolf howling."
In his dorm, moonlight spilled through a cracked window, silvering the stone walls. The Hyde's yellow eyes haunted him, a reminder of the danger still lurking. His memories—Tyler, a teacher, something about a mastermind—remained frustratingly blurry. "Like a game with no save file," he muttered, checking the HUD:
[System: 0 Ultimate Skill Cards. Active Skills: Ultimate Immortal Body, Ultimate Illusion Creation, Ultimate Lightning Body.]
No cards left, but three ultimate skills made him a force. His old life—comic shops, energy drinks, late-night MCU debates—felt like a faded screenshot. Here, he was tied to Wednesday's hunt, to Nevermore's mysteries. "Time to shine," he thought, sleep claiming him as the night deepened.
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