The ghost apparently speaks Spanish, so my language skills are an extra bonus. Enid knows some Spanish from growing up in California and taking classes when she was younger. Tyler’s Spanish is pathetic, but at least he’s trying.

Enid and Tyler came along because they were 1) bored, and 2) needed money, respectively. They also mentioned something about wanting to spend time with me. I'm not sure I believe them. I suspect ulterior motives.

Thing is here because he's my partner in (solving) crime. He’s too useful to leave at home. And Agnes tags along no matter what I tell her. At least she’s currently putting herself to good use. We'll all be hungry after this.

As the stairs creak beneath our combined weight, Enid whimpers. She’s still not very good with haunted places, but she's getting better. Tyler isn’t concerned because he knows he's far more dangerous than anything we might run into could ever be. The only creature, living or dead, who could ever out freak him is me, and he knows it.

We have an uneasy truce. We’re allies, and Enid, Agnes, Thing, and I form his pack. He hasn’t had a lapse in control once since he left the Hyde colony.

I have to grudgingly commend him for that. He really is serious about being his own master. He’s defended me from danger on multiple occasions, too.

I don't know how I feel about that. Enid claims the sexual tension between us is so thick she could cut it with her claws. I worry the time she was stuck as an alpha wolf has led to permanent brain damage.

Lost in my thoughts as I am, we reach the top of the staircase faster than I expected. There are several dark, dusty rooms in this wing of the house to check for clues. I open my mouth.

“Do not tell us to separate,” Enid says. “Remember what happened the last time you did that.”

“Fine. You take Tyler, and I'll take Thing.”

Enid nods, and she and Tyler go to the right. When Enid was stuck in wolf form, Tyler protected her, and they’ve had a strange kinship ever since. I suppose turning into a monster and losing control of yourself is something they can bond over.

As Thing and I investigate the first room on the left, I notice he’s a little sluggish, a little slower than usual.

“Thing, have you been drinking again?”

Thing indignantly gestures at me. I frown and pull out the toolkit in my pocket, which includes a thermometer. “Fair enough. I didn’t realize how hot it had gotten, and there's limited air circulation in here.” I run icy cold, so it takes a lot for me to get warm. 

I stretch out my arm. “Here, hold my hand until you cool down.”

Thing grasps onto it, and he is slightly warmer than usual. We continue our investigation until it’s interrupted by a crash, followed by Enid calling my name.

I sigh deeply but follow her voice to one of the bedrooms. She’s kneeling next to Tyler, who is sprawled out on the floor, his eyes closed as he pants. His skin looks flushed, but he isn’t sweating.

“I think he’s got heatstroke,” Enid says, biting her rainbow nails.

Turns out the hottest day on record was not the best choice for implementing my plan. Oh well. Hindsight is 20/20. I’m not used to planning around the Texas heat, and I’ll have to take it into account in the future.

“I can see that,” I say as I kneel next to him and check his temperature. Sure enough, he’s burning up, and he seems confused. 

“Wednesday?” he asks, the words slurring together.

“I see your ability to recognize faces is still intact. That means there's still hope.” I give Enid a look. “Why did he get heatstroke when you’re just fine? You’re the one with all the fur.”

“Not right now I’m not! Plus, he’s wearing a long sleeved flannel shirt and jeans in this weather. I'm the only one appropriately dressed here!”

I give her a look. She has on a tank top, shorts, and sporty sandals. I'm wearing a long-sleeved black dress with black leggings and boots. By her logic, I should be burning up too, but I'm perfectly fine.

“I don't think he's been drinking enough water either,” she adds, glancing nervously at him again.

I look at the half gallon rainbow container half full of water on the floor nearby. Maybe Enid hauling that thing around wasn't such a dumb idea after all.

“Tyler, we’re going to have to take off your clothes,” I tell him. He protests weakly. “Fine, you can keep your boxers on. Everything else has to go.”

Unfortunately, the clothes have color, so Thing and Enid have to strip him for me. As they do, it quickly becomes apparent why he protested about being stripped.

His body is littered with scars, many more than when he was at Willow Hill. I notice multiple poorly healed gunshot wounds, several sets of clawmarks, and other past injuries of uncertain origin. He meets my eyes, and there’s a moment of clarity where he seems ashamed before a confused haze settles over him again.

Enid and Thing finish stripping him, and I help them move him to the bed. He’s the biggest of the three of us, but we manage. The bed creaks loudly but holds, and I temporarily slip my black gloves on and get him to drink a good amount of water before I tell the others to leave the room.

“Why?” Enid asks.

“My skin is cold. Lying next to me is going to be as good as having an ice bath. He’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Enid takes a hint and shoos Thing out of the room. She closes the door behind them, smiling knowingly at me.

I ignore her and unlace my boots, then kick them off. My socks soon follow. Next I unzip my dress, then my leggings come off. I leave the rest on. If Tyler gets to wear his undergarments, then so do I. 

He’s staring at me, and I don’t know if it’s because of the heatstroke or because I’ve never shown this much skin around him before, but I get the sense he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I can't exactly have him dying on me. That would be bad for business. And this is strictly for medical reasons. I would do this for any of my allies.

I join him on the bed, which thankfully has a faded black bedspread ridden with moth-inflicted holes and patchy white sheets underneath. I move close and press as much of my icy skin against his flushed, burning self as I can manage. I have less surface area than he does, but I do my best to cover as much of him as possible.

He groans deeply and puts an arm around me. A sound of relief, pleasure, or both? Well, anyone would feel better if they were burning up and a human popsicle/living corpse lay next to them. This isn't anything special.

His breathing calms down, evens out, and his temperature starts to lower as the minutes tick by. Good, this is working. We generally try to avoid taking him to regular doctors so he doesn’t get carted off to be a part of some quack’s experiments. He has a deep fear of being imprisoned and restrained, for obvious reasons, so most medical treatment we handle ourselves.

My breathing evens out, too. This isn’t as intolerable as I thought it would be. His scent is…pleasant. The skin-to-skin contact with him doesn’t repel or repulse me. I’m comfortable. Relaxed, even.

I spot one of his gunshot wound scars and absently stroke it. He tenses, and I lighten the pressure a little.

“You shouldn't be so self-conscious,” I tell him. “All these scars say is, ‘Look how many fights I’ve won or survived.’ It makes you more appealing, if you care about that sort of thing.” 

He chuckles, and the sound makes my lips twitch a little. “Leave it to Wednesday Addams to find scars attractive.” It's the most he’s said in a while, so he's probably almost in the clear.

But I don’t want to move, not yet. I pull out my favorite tactic so I can stay just a little longer: arguing.

“I didn't say anything about attractiveness,” I say. “The scars just mean you’re strong. A worthy opponent.”

He brushes his finger over my lips, and I shiver in spite of myself. “A worthy opponent, or a worthy mate?” he murmurs. 

We search each other’s eyes. There are things I’m curious about, things I’d be interested in learning. To increase my overall knowledge of human anatomy, of course. This has nothing to do with Tyler in particular, not really. He’s just lying here beside me, and it would be convenient to practice with him. He certainly seems willing.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I tell him. Our faces are only inches apart, and we’re both breathing heavily. Every place our bodies are touching feels wonderfully cold thanks to my icy skin. I move even closer, and his eyes flutter shut as his lips part. Having my third kiss in an old, haunted mansion with a dangerous Hyde who almost died but I saved yet again wouldn’t be a bad idea, not at all. In fact, I’m really starting to cool down to it.

Just as our lips are about to touch, Enid’s screams reach our ears.

“OH MY GOD, THE GHOST IS HERE, WEDNESDAY, TYLER, YOU HAVE TO COME, I THINK HE’S GONNA KILL ME—WAIT NO, EWWWW, I THINK HE’S HITTING ON ME—MY SPANISH ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH THIS!”

The moment is over. Tyler and I burst out laughing, and it strikes me that he has a pleasant laugh. Most laughter I find insincere and grating, but his I could listen to for hours.

“Oh, Thing opened a window for me and now the ghost is gone,” Enid calls up. “Still, he might come back…”

“We should probably go back down there and help,” Tyler says, sweeping a strand of hair that's popped out of my braids away from my face. His grin is big and affectionate, and I have the horrific urge to kiss it right off his face.

I sigh deeply instead. “Yes. Even with Thing, Enid won't last another five minutes. She hates haunted places. And I think we’ve done enough investigating for now. We should wait and come back at night when it's cooler and when the ghost is more likely to be around again.”

He nods and carefully lifts me off of him. His hands are so much larger than mine, but he's being very gentle. His restraint is doubly impressive knowing how easily he could slash me to pieces or pin me against the bed and—

I frown. Where did that thought come from? But now that it’s here, it won’t leave my mind, no matter how hard I push it down.

Enid was right. I’m still attracted to him. How embarrassing. How humiliating. At least the feeling appears to be mutual. Now that he’s fully cognizant again and still keeps staring at me with dilated pupils, I can’t avoid that conclusion any longer. 

We put on our clothes. Well, I put on my clothes. I tell him his jeans are fine for now but to refrain from putting his shirt back on. He raises an eyebrow but does what I say. He also chugs more of the water from Enid’s giant water jug before we exit the room.

“Thank you, for cooling me down,” he says as the stairs creak beneath us.

“Don’t mention it,” I reply. I mean it in both senses of the phrase. What happened between us just now can be dealt with later. For now, we have to find a scaredy-cat alpha wolf and a reanimated corpse's right hand that still managed to get heatstroke.

I'm telling you, I'm surrounded by amateurs.

As we all pile into the car, A/C blasting, and eat the snacks and chug the drinks Agnes has gotten for us, I find I don’t really mind. Maybe having the Scooby-Doo crew with me isn’t such a bad thing after all. 

Tyler smiles at me, and the conviction only grows.

For a homicidal monster, he sure knows how to cool a girl’s icy heart.

👻 🛏️ 🧊