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Run Boy Run Part 3

House of Memories

_________

Dean Whiller drove them to Nevermore Academy. Giavanna was appropriately discharged from the hospital with a prescription for extra strength ibuprofen, and a caution to continue deep breathing, otherwise she might come back soon with a pneumonia. Lovely.

She was on edge when she got into the car. Wednesday sat in shotgun, she sat in back with Xavier. She didn't like not being in control of the car because if something happened, she was subject to someone else's driving, and she'd rather have control.

Still, she was being given shelter in, apparently, a safe school. She was told that there had been an accident last semester and that to better protect the students, wards were put up along the perimeter. That eased some of stress.

The microscopic inkling that whatever chased her could get through it, that stayed.

It was ironic, though. She was on edge, nerves tight as a taut string, and yet she was nodding off five minutes into the ride.

The Dean was talking to her, telling her about histories and how the school is run. She had never started listening, but it was nice white noise to her. Then there was the warm company beside her, and she was cold. Space separated Xavier and Giavanna; her head hung down and he knew she was asleep. He was looking elsewhere, staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by when he felt her head on his shoulder.

He looked down, warmth spreading from the contact. He would've moved closer if he wasn't worried about waking her. He stayed where he was, not moving, not doing anything. He went back to looking out the window.

The drive was twenty minutes long. When they pulled up in the front courtyard, circling around to the main doors, he looked to Giavanna again. He woke her with gentle taps to the knee. Her head lifted like it was weighed down and sleep continued to hold onto her.

"We're here."

"Oh, what? Yeah, yeah I know," she was yawning, eyes shut as she unbuckled herself. "I was just resting my eyes. Haven't, haven't slept well, couldn't sleep thinking about it, you know?"

She was out of the car before he could ask more.

"You said this place had wards?" Giavanna asked, looking up with the type of face Wednesday wore. Analytical. Critical might have been the better word.

"Yes," Dean Whiller smiled, coming to stand by her. "We had warlocks come in from New York to place them and we had a second party double check them."

"Well lucky you, you're about to get a third party," Giavanna's lips pinched. "These wards are the product of a first grader."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I was doing them in first grade." She shook her head. "I'll add to them. Or redo them, depending on their quality. I mean, sure, they're good for deterring accidents, but you said this school was attacked. Attacks are planned where I come from."

"How can you tell?" Wednesday asked, staring at her.

"Magic leaves a trace. When I look up, I see the wards." She pointed as she spoke, looking up again. That hurt her ribs and she stopped doing that, going into a coughing fit that only hurt more. Her eyes watered and she mumbled an 'owe.' "I'm fine, ignore me. So, trace," her voice was quiet from the fight to suppress another series of coughs. "These wards are thin, so I can see through them. A good ward is thick and hides the world outside of it. I'd be able to see the colors but not defining features like a tree."

Wednesday nodded. "What's your education?"

"I. . ." She frowned. "I don't remember having one."

Dean Whiller smiled. "It's alright dear, don't think too hard right now, you have a concussion. Where are your sunglasses? You're not supposed to look at anything bright."

"That's why I'm looking at Wednesday."

Wednesday stared. "Flattery will get you nowhere." She turned and walked away, into the school.

Giavanna tilted her head, speaking to Xavier. "You know, she's not so bad."

Xavier offered a small smile. "She's a good friend to have. Just uh, try not to get on her bad side. She might accuse you of murder."

"What?"

~

"Giavanna, I would've liked to put you in Ophelia Hall because you seem close with Wednesday Addams, but there were no openings in the rooms and it's not fair of me to ask someone to move their things when they're already settled. So I'm hoping you'll be okay with Lily Hall?" The Dean asked.

"Well, as I'm the guest here, yes, that sounds lovely."

"We have an odd number of girls now, so you'll be rooming alone, but never be afraid to visit the girls around you. They're all very friendly and I'm sure they'll take well to you."

"Sounds great."

What wasn't great? Walking up twenty five (approximately) flights of stairs to get to her room. Was there not a single elevator in this building? Did they not have enough money to put in an elevator? She had three broken ribs, she was wheezing, she was apparently at risk for a pneumonia; sure! Let's take the scenic route up thirty eight flights of stairs.

Why did buildings need to be tall anyway? What was wrong with making them wide?

They finally got to her floor and went all the way down, which was only three rooms. She had the last room and once she saw it, her anger lessened. Slightly. She still struggled to breathe.

It was a beautiful room. Two beds, clearly meant for two people. A corner room so there were windows on the left wall and the very back of the room. A balcony wrapped around the edge, which was good. She'd have an escape plan if something ever went wrong.

"Okay, so this is your room – " a phone ringing cut her off, and Dean Whiller pulled out her phone from her pocket. "I am so sorry, I'm late for a meeting. I'm going to get a student and they'll give you a tour, you stay here and they'll be right here! Sorry again!"

She answered her phone on the third ring, walking away as she did so.

Giavanna was left along in her new room. With nothing better to do, she did the only thing she could think of; put up wards. She started at the door, her biggest threat. Then she did the windows, carving into the wood with the knife Wednesday had thrown at her stolen motorcycle. She carved her runes every five feet, which was more protection than normal, but she was paranoid. And, if any beast had gotten this close to be right outside her door; she'd need the extra protection.

After that, she assessed her bed. She pushed down on the mattress, not hating the softness to it. She laid on it, testing the waters. She fell into a coughing fit after laying goofy, and realized she had to lay on her back or her airway was impeded.

No, the intent was not to fall asleep, but she really hadn't been sleeping well the last month. With the chance for rest, and quiet rest at that, her body succumbed to it quickly.

The sun fell outside, her room gradually increasing in darkness until it was hardly more than shadows. Her body curled in on itself to preserve the little heat she had, but that obstructed her air flow and she ended up waking herself up with a series of violent coughs. Her face puffed up, turning a dark shade of red, and she actually had to stand up, fixing her curved back, in order to calm herself down.

It was only when she could breathe again did she hear the knocking on her window.

She whirled, seeing a blurry, ominous, but slight figure outside one of her windows. Hard to see because the wards she put up were thick, but her critical thinking took away the fear of danger.

The figure was too small.

Her steps were detached and lonesome as she crossed the room, and the window creaked when she opened the hidden door. Outside, Wednesday Addams stood.

Giavanna blinked. "How did you get onto the balcony?'

"I climbed."

"Up?"

"No. Your door is locked."

"Actually it's just the wards. Keeps out all people I don't invite in."

Silence set in. Wednesday stared.

"Would you like to come in?" Giavanna asked, unsure if that was where she was supposed to go.

She didn't nod or speak, but she did step inside. That was surprisingly respectful of her to wait.

"Xavier is on the other side of the door."

She nodded, heading towards her door. "You two are quite the pair, huh?" All of the cute ones were always taken.

There was a physical manifestation of 'no' in the air, before it was said. "No."

Her brows rose, and she didn't open the door, even though her hand was on it. She did turn back around. "So you two aren't?"

"No."

"Is there any unspoken thing I should know about?"

Wednesday looked at her now, turning away from the windowsill, where her fingers traced the carvings. "While I can't fathom why, and disagree with your ability to trust so quickly, there is no personal attachment between Xavier and I."

Obviously Giavanna wasn't going to act on it, there was the whole issue of being hunted down, but it was good to know these things. She opened the door, spotting Xavier right away.

He gave a small smile. "Already set up your wards, or just didn't want to see me?"

"Wards," she answered quickly. "Yeah, and I was asleep," which meant she looked terrible. She started pulling down her shirt and top, flattening the creases. "Sorry about that. Uh, but you can come visit anytime," to make it seem like she wasn't picking favorites, she immediately pivoted, and said the same thing to Wednesday. "You too Wednesday. You both have access now; you can use the front door."

Wednesday frowned. "Shame."

"Or you can continue to scale the roof, but if you fall, I won't take the blame –" the comment struck a different thought inside her, and she turned back to Xavier. "Hey, so quick question. I was talking to the Sheriff before, and he made this comment, I might've misunderstood it, but I just wanted to clarify, you know? So uh, he kinda made it seem like you tried to catch me, when I fell?"

Xavier broke eye contact. "Oh, uh, yeah, didn't do it too well though."

"That is, wow, that was so nice of you. Gosh, are you okay? Please don't tell me that's why you broke your leg, it totally is, isn't it? I'm so sorry, you didn't have to do that."

"He did." They both turned, facing Wednesday. She was looking over Giavanna's bed now. "You would've died if he hadn't. Then I would've had my murder mystery." Her black eyes found Xavier. "Now I just have a mystery."

Giavanna shook her head. She frowned at Xavier, disappointed. "Honestly, have you ever done anything right before?"

He gave her a look, green eyes light. She had to look away because she experienced heart palpitations and that made her want to cough and that caused pain.

"I guess, I'm sorry?" He struggled to keep the laugh out of his tone. "I brought you this, by the way. In case you were still cold."

She was handed a jacket. Along with it, she was handed attachment issues and feelings.

"If you two are done –"

"AH!"

Something grabbed her ankle and began to crawl up her. She jumped in the air, leaping away from her previous spot and then spazzing out like she thought spiders were crawling up her back. Her heart dropped and her fight or flight activated into its lesser known counterpart; self-combust.

It wasn't an intentional self-combust but her screaming had thrown her into a coughing fit that hurt her ribs and turned her face red. She did all this while scurrying around the room, trying to be free of her attacker.

Something flung off of her at the movements and she screamed again, seeing it race across the floor to Wednesday. When it was crawling up her stiff body, Giavanna was now cowering on her bed.

"Thing, manners," Wednesday scolded, not at all harshly.

It was a hand.

There was a hand on her shoulder.

There was no body attached to the hand.

Giavanna coughed her voice clear. "What the hell is that?" She was hoarse.

"Thing," Wednesday informed.

"Fine! What the hell is that thing?" Why did she need a grammar lesson? It hardly seemed the time!

"No, this is Thing."

She made a face, utterly lost. Xavier was doing his absolute worst to hide his laughing. "What?!"

"This is thing."

"Yes, that is a thing, but what is that thing!"

"Thing is a hand."

"For the love of God."

Xavier stepped forward. "Giavanna, this is a friend of Wednesday's. His name is Thing."

Why? Honestly, why?

She sagged, heart slowing down again. It was a miracle she didn't have any heart issues.

Giavanna didn't know what else to say. "Nice to meet you."

Thing turned onto his stump and waved. Slow, and tired, she waved back.

"If little old Thing scares you," Wednesday commented lightly, "we have a lot of work to do."

"I was told this place is safe -I need to do the wards." In the nicest way possible, Giavanna was like a horse. She needed blinders to focus on the path in front of her or she'd get distracted. She stood from the bed, slipping on Xavier's jacket and pointedly ignoring how nice it smelled.

Focus.

"How could I just fall asleep without doing the wards?" She scolded herself.

"Hey wait, it's night out, you can't go out there now," Xavier stopped her, a hand around her wrist.

Did this man radiate heat or was she always freezing? The short skirt did not help.

"I have to, the wards are terrible. I'll be right back, don't worry," she smiled at him for reassurance and pat his hand. She slipped out of his grip and left the room, shutting the door.

Xavier turned to Wednesday. Wednesday looked back. "I'll follow from a distance," she informed, reading his mind. "Copy down the runes she made. They're old."

"I didn't know you were an expert in runes."

Wednesday stopped in front of her exit; the window that led to the balcony. "I'm not, but from the looks of it, she is."

"How do you know?" He rushed out before she could turn.

She stopped again. "The knife strokes. They're confident. Clean. Well-practiced. I might not know runes, but I do know knives." She nodded, unblinking. "Now sketch them."

~

Wednesday slipped through the forest, blending in like she was one of the shadows. In truth the similarities were shocking. Eerie, lurking, made you second guess yourself. Yes, Wednesday Addams was very much like a shadow.

She had caught up with Giavanna easily, it was a choice to stay behind her, out of eye. Her Uncle Fester taught her how to creep and crawl, observe without being observed. He had evaded the best of the police, sometimes hiding right in front of their enraged gaze. With him as a teacher, she had become a competent apprentice.

She had lost Giavanna.

An hour later, she still hadn't found her.

Thing scurried across the ground, finished with the search she had sent him to do. He crawled up her body and seated himself on her shoulder.

He reported nothing.

"How could I have let this happen? Uncle Fester would be disappointed." There were very few people she cared about disappointing. For her to say such a thing made Thing deflate.

He did several hand signs.

"I don't need to involve Enid. I need to be better."

More hand signs.

"She hasn't left yet. I would've seen it."

She cut him off halfway through his next series. "I'm getting better control. The Hospital was. . .an outlier. Now stop it, we have a girl to find."

"Found."

Wednesday whirled, her braids flared, and Thing gripped tight to her shoulder to not fall off. Giavanna stood in front of her, red hair puffier than before. The color was depleted in the dark lighting, not so violently bold. With the borrowed jacket covering her crop top, she was slightly more bearable to look at as well.

"What gave me away?"

Giavanna shared information like Wednesday ignored the unimportant; with ease. "I figured you were going to follow me from the beginning. You were always following a projection of myself."

Wednesday's eyes narrowed. It was clever. She'd have to be clever for whatever was chasing her. She must have known about this for quite some time to prepare in such a way.

"Where did you learn to make those runes?"

"I don't know."

"Then how did you know which ones to make?"

"Instinct."

That's what Wednesday had been thinking. On instinct she gave glimpses into her past, it was when she thought about an answer, even for a split second, that she no longer remembered.

Wednesday walked forward, hands behind her back. Giavanna took a spot beside her, the unspoken 'we're returning to campus' understood.

"How do the runes look now? I trust you took care of them?"

"They're all good. I circled the perimeter and – "

"The runes in your room were impressive, I don't believe I mentioned this. Clean cut. You used my knife?"

"You did throw it at me, so I thought that meant I could ke-"

"I didn't throw it at you, I would have hit you if I had been aiming for you. So, you know the runes are good when its too thick to reveal the outside world?"

"That's one way to see it, yes. Sometimes you need to see the outside world even with the runes so you can add more runes to make it transp- "

"Who taught you all this?"

"I was self-taught –"

"I have some clothes you can borrow," Wednesday cut in again, storing away the information. "Or, my roommate has a more eccentric wardrobe filled with the opposite side of the color palate, if that's to your choosing."

"That's so nice of you, you and Xavier have really been so sweet to me. But I can't just keep borrowing things, I have nothing to give back in return."

Wednesday shook her head. "This mystery is reward enough for me. You may borrow my clothes if you wish, or Enid has offered as well." Her dialect had sped up in order to keep the conversation fast paced; she wanted Giavanna to give those instinctual, no thought answers. "You mentioned you had trouble sleeping before. You knew you were going to be attacked."

"I was supposed to die on my 16th birthday, no. . .wait, that sounds like it's from a Disney movie – "

She was thinking. Wednesday acted quickly, trying to redirect before it was too late. So she lied. Her lie was carefully crafted, mind you. A piece to the puzzle she was filling in based off observation and deductive reasoning.

Wednesday had noticed some scars on her. Most were invisible to the untrained eye. Some were raised.

"You did a lot of training, you mentioned before. Despite knowing you were going to die, you wanted to put up a fight."

Admirable. Effective, clearly, as it had worked. If the backstory was true, and she was fated to die on her 16th birthday.

Giavanna puffed out a breath, cheeks flushed from the cold. She wrapped her arms around her torso, pale, exposed legs wracked with goosebumps. "Who wouldn't want to put up a fight? It was the only thing I was living for. I had nothing else."

She was only living to die. When Wednesday said this, it was with only a 99% monotone voice, instead of 100% monotone. She was practically smiling as she said it, by her own standards. When Giavanna said it, it was weighted and depressing. She wanted something else to live for but did not have it.

More clues. Interesting ones.

Distraction.

"Last semester this school dealt with a Hyde. They're creatures that have masters that dictate their every move, like students in school but with even less independence." Giavanna smiled at her. Wednesday hadn't said a joke. "As it happened the master, a teacher that went here, needed my blood to resurrect the dead, as I am a descendant of the one that put him under. She controlled this Hyde and killed many people. I involved myself because I wanted to, but even if I hadn't, I would've been involved anyway." There was no point to her telling that story. She wasn't coming to some grand conclusion that would spark a revelation; she purely did it for distraction.

Wednesday asked another question. "What attacked you?"

Giavanna, focused on her story, answered after a moment of hesitation. "A servant, contracted by a blood agreement. . ." her brows knit. She stopped walking.

Her forehead knit next. "I. . .It's right there, it's like I have this vague image in my head, a blurry outline, but I can't clear it! It's right there!"

A blood agreement? A blood oath. They both meant the same thing; a deal with a demon.

Wednesday didn't know who Disney was, but she did know this. If Giavanna had made a deal with a demon, then it was very plausible she was scheduled to die on her 16th birthday. Worse than that, if this were the case, the likelihood that Wednesday could help her? Not high.

But that didn’t answer the question; why would she have made a deal with a demon?

A twig cracked behind them. Both girls spun. Wednesday remained calm and collected. She had a knife on her person and could pull it out within the blink of an eye.

Giavanna attempted to be proactive, and worse than that, protective. She stepped forward, and her mistake was in trying to push Wednesday behind her. Once her bare hand made contact with Wednesday's arm, it was over.

Wednesdays head bent back, eyes bursting open. Her arms tensed and flexed towards the ground, her back arched, and she hit the ground after stumbling like a drunk.

Wednesday sat up, orientating herself with her surroundings with the efficiency of a trained operative.

She was in a library. A nice one at that. There were two desks in it, on an oriental rug of rich green shades. Two walls had floor to ceiling bookshelves. The farthest wall had a tall window with an arched top. It was small, cold. Purely for academics.

It was empty.

Wednesday left the room, On this floor, there were the standard features of a house. A kitchen, a living room, a dining room with two placemats - noise.

She heard noise and followed it, a bloodhound that had caught a scent. She opened a door in the kitchen that took her outside, wondering how she could have missed looking outside? It was as clear as a horrible bright blue sky.

Giavanna was there, facing away from her, but that long, wild hair was indistinguishable. Wednesday supposed the color wasn't so terrible considering how identifiable it made her. Although, considering she was hiding from a demon, the ostentatious color might need to be reconsidered.

Her fingers were weaving a spell in air, burning it like there was wood in front of her. It was a shade of red that bled with darkness, making it an impure shade. The more her fingers wove the bigger the spell grew, until it was half the height of her and wider than her frame.

Wednesday turned towards the next sound that had become familiar to her. Familiar in the sense that her roommate was one.

Snapping jaws. Growling. Paws digging into the ground as a strong, lithe frame bounded forward.

Wednesday side stepped, spotting the werewolf immediately.

A werewolf, not a demon? Had Wednesday's tactic to retrieve information not worked?

Giavanna wasn't concerned though – and she wasn't wearing the same clothes she wore when she first appeared at Nevermore. This was a different day.

This wasn't the threat.

Training.

Yes, it made sense. Wednesday stepped forward, closer to Giavanna, and saw a small cut across her cheek. The blood was already dried, but it matched up with a scratch she had still healing in present time.

The werewolf was ten feet away, he leapt again, and Giavanna stepped forward, pushing with overlapping palms, and her spell work burst.

A net shot out, capturing the werewolf, pulling out a yelped cry, and forcing them to the ground. Giavanna opened her eyes and grinned.

She was pale, without any rose on her cheekbones. The bags under her eyes perfectly matched the bags she wore currently.

The werewolf huffed from the ground, trapped.

"My last day as a living woman, and I finally best you in a fight," she shook her head. "Think it's enough to give me a chance Pietro?"

The net disappeared. The werewolf whined, standing, coming to Giavanna. Nudging her with his head.

She scratched him, halfhearted. "I know. I know. I should try to be hopeful. . .thank you, for taking care of me all these years. It shouldn't have been your job – "

Her body surged forward, leaving the uncomfortable, cold embrace of the ground she took pleasure in. Immediately, Wednesday assessed the situation, recognizing right from wrong.

Right? True to her growing theories, Giavanna was a woman of exceptional training, who might, and the bitterness inside her grew at this thought, be able to combat Wednesday in a fight.

Wrong? Giavanna was standing right beside Wednesday, breathing heavy. Surrounding them were five werewolves, students no doubt, all struggling under raging red nets. Trapped.

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