The black Impala stopped near the Jericho sheriff's station. Alex and Dean had already finished their coffee and the pastries Alex had bought at the "Weathervane" café. They both got out of the car, automatically straightening their agent outfits, which they had changed into before arriving in town.
Dean wore a standard agent suit — black jacket, white shirt, strict tie. Alex was also dressed according to protocol… though in his own style: black suit, black shirt, and a bright red tie. Changing his color scheme was absolutely not an option.
Entering the station, they immediately drew the attention of the officers. Tourists sometimes passed through Jericho, but one look was enough to know: Alex and Dean were definitely not tourists. Introducing themselves as agents of the Federal Bureau of Control, they calmly explained the purpose of their visit. Alex briefly mentioned that he had already crossed paths with Sheriff Donovan Galpin — leaving out the part where he met him in the café where his son worked.
Since the sheriff wasn't around, Alex and Dean decided to wait for him in the reception area. Alex pulled out his phone to text the girls. The reply came almost instantly — a photo of a child's room splattered with blood… with glitter. Then another photo — a dead mermaid being buried by Sam and Samantha, while Lucina and Alice watched from the side.
Alex couldn't resist showing the picture to Dean. Dean nearly burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation — and, of course, immediately asked what the hell was going on over there. Alex simply handed him the phone with the chat so Dean could read it himself. After skimming through the messages, Dean only shook his head, genuinely glad he hadn't gone on "that" assignment.
A few minutes later, the sheriff finally returned. Seeing Alex and Dean, he immediately invited them into his office. They followed him in, and the first thing they saw was a map with marks showing where the bodies had been found.
The sheriff sat at his desk and, folding his hands, looked at the guests:
"And what brings agents from a bureau I have, I admit, never heard of, to our small town?"
"We were sent to investigate the case of three bodies found in… let's say, a rather unpleasant condition," Alex answered calmly as he sat down across from him. "The Federal Bureau of Control deals with cases that are difficult to explain by ordinary means."
"Even if it's just a wild animal attack?" the sheriff asked cautiously. "I don't think you'll find much work for people like you here."
"That's exactly what we're here to determine," Dean interjected. "We go where the Bureau sends us. If it's just a wild animal — great. If not — even better, we'll handle it."
"So you're already aware of the… peculiarities of our town?" the sheriff asked, squinting slightly.
"We've been briefed," Alex nodded. "The academy for 'special' kids — we know. Don't worry, it's hard to surprise us in our line of work. We're here for cooperation, Sheriff. Nothing more."
He laced his fingers together and smiled mildly:
"Even if local tourists were torn apart by a rabid bear who decided to snack on them out of hunger."
The sheriff's frown deepened as he studied Alex's young face. He clearly wasn't sure whether or not to trust agents from an unknown organization. Meanwhile, Dean stood up and approached the map, examining the marked spots.
"Sheriff," he called, pointing at one of the areas, "what's located here?"
"Nevormore Academy," the sheriff replied, turning around. "Our… landmark, you could say. I assume you've already figured that out."
"So all the killings happened near the school for, let's call them, 'unusual' students?" Dean clarified.
"Correct. And I believe you also know that the locals and the academy students don't get along very well."
Alex thoughtfully stroked his chin:
"Sheriff, can you tell me when something similar last happened in this town? Involving the academy and the locals. I mean murder."
"About thirty years ago," Donovan said with a heavy sigh. "I don't remember the exact dates — the case is at my home. But during the annual Nevermore ball, there was a fight between a student and a local boy. The local boy was killed, and the culprit was arrested."
"Names? The cause of the conflict? And what happened to the killer?" Alex asked softly, still smiling.
Meanwhile, Dean, out of old habit, secretly took a photo of the map with the murder locations. He moved the way he had for many years — quietly, discreetly, without drawing attention. Even though he was now an official agent and could work openly, old reflexes didn't fade quickly.
Alex, of course, noticed this gesture, but didn't comment. He understood perfectly well — habits don't disappear in a day.
Sheriff Donovan continued to study Alex attentively, and his gaze was becoming less skeptical. Yes, Alex looked young… too young for the level of professionalism he displayed. But he spoke confidently, kept himself calm — and that suggested he had far more experience than his appearance implied.
"In that case, Garrett Gates and Gomez Addams were involved," the sheriff began in an even tone. "The Gates family lived in our town for a long time and had significant influence. Gomez was arrested after killing Garrett. During the investigation, it was proven to be self-defense. The conflict started over a girl. Unfortunately, the boy died from an allergic reaction during the fight. Though… I believe things weren't that simple."
"So the son of a wealthy family fell in love with a girl from an academy for special children, who already had a boyfriend… and eventually a fight broke out between two teenagers, resulting in one of them dying?" Dean clarified.
"Officially — yes. The case was handled by the previous sheriff. He's the current mayor, Noble Walker," Sheriff Donovan said, making it clear he hadn't worked that case himself.
"You mind if we take a look at the case?" Alex asked with a friendly smile. "Even if the current events aren't connected to that incident, we need to understand the bigger picture."
"As I said, the case is at my house," Donovan replied. "If you're not in a rush, we can drive there, and I'll hand it over to you."
Alex looked at Dean, and Dean nodded: everything was fine. Alex nodded back — and they headed to the exit. The sheriff informed his deputy that he'd return later and left with the agents.
Alex and Dean got into the Impala and followed the sheriff's car. While Dean drove, he asked:
"Well? What did you figure out?"
He had known for a long time: Alex noticed details that others missed.
Alex only shook his head.
"We need more information."
He couldn't simply say, "I know what's happening." In the role of an agent, he had to behave like an agent — step by step, methodically moving through the case.
They reached the sheriff's house, went inside, and waited in the living room. A minute later, Donovan returned with the folder containing the Garrett Gates case and handed it to Alex. Thanking him, Alex and Dean left the house and got back into the Impala.
Alex opened the file right there. On the very first page was a photo of a young Gomez Addams — smirking during his arrest.
Dean looked at it and snorted:
"Ha. Looks just like me in my first 'souvenir photo.'"
Alex rolled his eyes.
"Damn. I forgot to ask the sheriff something."
"And what exactly did you forget, oh great genius of ours?" Dean drawled with open sarcasm.
"The Gates family. Their son died because of those they hated. And they had a lot of influence over the town. I think we should understand what they did afterward. What do you think — what actions would they take in a situation like that?" Alex slapped his forehead lightly.
"Isn't it obvious?" Dean shrugged as he started the engine. "Either they'd try to get revenge… or they'd leave the town before the conflict escalated further. Their precious son attacked a school of 'special' kids — that would only make the tension worse."
"Makes sense," Alex nodded and closed the file. "Alright. Our next stop is Nevermore Academy. Time to talk to the principal. I've got a feeling everyone here covers for each other, even if they can't stand one another."
"You think so?" Dean asked, giving him a sideways smirk.
Alex just smiled back and nodded. Even Dean felt that not everything in this town was as simple as it seemed at first glance. He turned onto the road, and soon the Impala left the town limits. Only one road led to Nevermore Academy — a narrow ribbon of asphalt cutting through a dark, dense forest shrouded in eternal mist.
As they approached the school, Alex and Dean lifted their eyes to the building. The academy towered before them with a gloomy gothic silhouette, like a castle hidden far from civilization. Dean parked the Impala, and the two stepped out, taking in the sight of the façade. Dark walls stained with almost black patches of damp, countless spiky towers, bay windows, gargoyles and chimeras clinging to every ledge. The central entrance was crowned by a massive arch with the inscription "Nevermore" and a stone raven that seemed to follow their every step.
"Yeah… pretty bleak," Dean muttered as he examined the academy.
"I think it's quite pleasing to the eye. If you forget it's a school for gifted kids, it looks like a haunted castle," Alex said, exhaling cigarette smoke upward.
"And why am I not surprised you like it? You dress just as gloomy yourself," Dean snorted.
"Dark colors simply suit me," Alex smirked.
Dean scoffed and headed for the entrance. Alex put out his cigarette and followed. Inside the academy grounds, they looked around, trying to decide which direction to go. Finding the principal's office in this maze of towers was not exactly an easy task.
After quickly orienting himself, Alex led Dean toward the courtyard—where students usually gathered. There they saw dozens of teenagers in Nevermore's blue school uniform. The courtyard was an octagonal square paved with old, uneven cobblestones. At its center stood a fountain with a black statue of Edgar Allan Poe, seated with a raven on his shoulder. Water trickled in a thin stream from the bird's open beak.
The moment Alex and Dean appeared, they drew the students' attention. Everyone froze, staring at the unfamiliar adults dressed in dark clothing. It wasn't every day guests like these walked into the academy.
Dean squinted, examining the surroundings. Alex also scanned the crowd, spotting vampires, werewolves, sirens, and other kinds of "special" students.
At that moment, Wednesday and her roommate Enid stepped out of the main hall. Enid—often described as a sunbeam in a gothic castle: bright, cheerful, social, part of almost every school club, running the school blog and TikTok. And also a werewolf who… couldn't fully transform, something that constantly shook her confidence.
Wednesday, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Gloomy, cold, distant, refusing to let anyone closer than arm's length. She believed attachments were a weakness that could be used against her.
And yet somehow those two managed to coexist as roommates.
Wednesday walked with her usual icy expression, while Enid—as always—talked nonstop beside her.
"So tell me, how was your first trip into town? Come on, something interesting must've happened?" Enid repeated with a wide smile.
"I asked you not to speak to me. We are not friends, and sharing a room does not make us close," Wednesday replied coldly without turning her head.
"Not yet. But I'm sure we'll become friends. Soon," Enid said in a bright tone.
"I don't think so," Wednesday answered in the same icy voice.
"That's just what you think… for now. Oh. Why is it suddenly so quiet? Why's everyone staring in the same direction?" Enid asked, confused as she looked around.
"Probably because of them," Wednesday said indifferently and pointed toward Alex and Dean.
Enid followed her finger and saw the two men standing at the entrance to the courtyard. They silently scanned the area while the academy's students couldn't tear their eyes away from them.
Enid raised her eyebrows in surprise, particularly drawn to the young man in a black suit, black shirt, and red tie, with his hair casually swept back. At first, she looked at him, then at Wednesday—and a thought suddenly popped into her head: he might be Wednesday's older brother. The style was just too similar.
Wednesday was also watching Alex. She knew he was an agent, and her curiosity about why he had come to town grew. The vision that had recently struck her had already strengthened her suspicions—and her inner interest in the situation only deepened.
Alex and Dean, after surveying the courtyard, reached an obvious conclusion: none of the Nevermore students were going to help them. Considering the students' attitude toward "normal" people, they couldn't really count on anyone.
Alex scanned the courtyard once more and immediately spotted Wednesday with Enid. It looked like he had found the ones who could point him to the principal's office. Alex lightly nudged Dean in the shoulder and confidently moved forward.
Dean looked at him in confusion and hurried to catch up.
"Well, we meet again, pale girl," Alex said calmly as he approached Wednesday and Enid.
"Are you following me?" Wednesday asked coldly.
"Of course. That's exactly why I came to town—to follow the girl I happened to meet in a café," Alex muttered, rolling his eyes.
Alex and Wednesday stared at each other silently. Enid, meanwhile, flitted her gaze between them, practically bubbling with excitement—fresh gossip in the academy was always rare, and now her roommate had become the center of it.
Dean studied Wednesday with the same curiosity one might reserve for a rare animal at the zoo, even briefly thinking she might be Alex's "lost sister"—her style was that similar.
Alex shifted his gaze to Enid. She immediately fixed her hair, straightened her uniform, and smiled so brightly it was like turning on spotlights. Alex raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. He remembered that she had apparently been infatuated with a gorgon named Ajax… but deciding not to overthink it, he turned back to Wednesday—who continued to look up at him without blinking.
"Could you tell me where the principal's office is?" Alex asked calmly.
"That depends on why you need it. And who you are," Wednesday replied. Her eyes glimmered slightly—she wouldn't miss a chance to learn more.
"We're agents of the Federal Bureau of Control. We handle cases involving the supernatural. We were sent to investigate a series of murders near the academy. If you know anything, we'd like to hear it," Alex said.
"Murders? Is that true?!" Enid exclaimed so loudly she practically jumped.
Her shout echoed across the courtyard, and the students immediately began whispering. Enid realized what she had done and hastily covered her mouth with her hands—as if that could take the words back. Too late. Everyone had already heard that agents had come to the academy, and over murders, no less.
Alex only shook his head and, out of habit, stroked Enid's head. This habit had been ingrained in him for so long that his hand moved automatically. Enid, feeling the gentle motion of his fingers through her hair, practically melted. For a werewolf, such attention had double the effect. And if she had a tail—it would have been wagging in all directions.
Wednesday, on the other hand, tensed. The information about murders in her territory immediately grabbed her attention. Her interest intensified.
Dean looked at Enid and tried to remember who she reminded him of… too bright, too loud, too positive.
"Do you guys live in isolation here? You even have phones," Dean said, looking at Enid, who at that moment was enjoying the best moment of her day.
"Yes, we do… but we didn't know someone was killed near the academy," Enid replied, not even attempting to move Alex's hand.
"Then, if you don't mind, pink girl, show us the principal's office. We want to talk to her. Maybe she knows something too," Dean said.
"I'm Enid Sinclair. And I'm a werewolf. Not a pink girl. Watch!" Enid said, showing off her sharp claws.
Alex was amused that Enid's claws were still perfectly polished. Logic clearly took a break. Dean mentally filed Enid under "too carefree for her own good."
The very idea of a school for the "special" still went against his many years of experience. But on the way here, Alex had explained to him why Nevermore existed. And no matter how long the list of monsters Dean had killed, he wasn't about to harm children—even if they were monsters. The thought didn't even occur to him.
Alex smiled, watching Enid proudly display her claws. He thought Alice and Enid would probably make the best of friends—loud, bright, and utterly unstoppable.
"You already have suspicions about who killed these people," Wednesday said, still trying to extract details.
"Pale girl, we just arrived in town and haven't even seen the bodies," Alex replied calmly. He leaned closer to look her straight in the eyes. "Do you think you can figure anything out without talking to a single witness? But if you already know something… you can share it."
"And why should I do that? What do I get in return?" Wednesday asked coldly, not yielding an inch.
"Mutual exchange of information," Alex said with a slight smile. "I know that look. The look of someone who wants to get to the bottom of things. You're going to get involved anyway—you won't let this opportunity pass. So I suggest cooperation. Your help won't hurt us. Isn't that right, pale girl?"
Wednesday met his gaze with her famous coldness—but something bothered her. Alex's rainbow-colored eyes seemed to see right through her, and she didn't like that feeling. She hated when she couldn't read someone. And now a new desire was born inside her—to uncover all the secrets of the guy standing in front of her.
Enid had completely lost track of what was happening. Alex and Wednesday stood so close their noses nearly touched. Dean watched the scene blankly, trying to understand what Alex was even doing.
Alex subtly gestured to him with his hand: I'll explain later.
They stared into each other's eyes for almost a minute without blinking. Wednesday's face remained tensely calm, while Alex's smile grew wider and wider.
"Then it's a deal," Wednesday said. "If I learn something, I'll tell you. And you'll do the same."
"I love deals, pale girl," Alex smiled.
"Wednesday Addams," Wednesday said, still with the same cold stare.
"Alexander Voldigoad," Alex said, still smiling.
"What just happened?" Enid asked, completely confused.
"Just a deal," Wednesday replied, not breaking her gaze from Alex.
"Exactly. A mutual deal. Now, Enid—take us to the principal's office," Alex said, still smiling casually.
Enid nodded happily and led them down the corridor. Wednesday, on the other hand, decided to return to her room and think things over. Once Alex and Dean reached Larissa Weems' office, Enid announced the principal's name and, humming a tune, skipped back down the hallway.
Alex and Dean stopped at the door and exchanged glances.
"Dude, what was that?" Dean asked, looking at Alex blankly.
"What exactly?" Alex knew perfectly well what he meant but asked anyway.
"Flirting with two teenagers. Are you even in your right mind?" Dean said dryly, looking at him like he was a complete pervert.
"Dude, let me remind you: technically, I'm eighteen," Alex said calmly.
"Shit…" Dean rubbed his face with his palm. "Completely slipped my mind after everything that's happened these past few days."
"Says the man pushing forty who's still single," Alex smirked.
"Shut up. Or I'll tell your three girls that you were hitting on two schoolgirls. And seriously—what's the deal with that pale girl? Why did you assume she'd get involved in the investigation?" Dean muttered, lightly punching him in the shoulder.
"Dean, how many times have I told you—when you're in the bunker, you need to learn to listen to your feelings. Didn't you notice that after Cain's blade your sensitivity increased?" Alex shook his head.
"Never really thought about that…" Dean muttered. "Alright. Let's talk to the principal. And then we eat. I'm hungry."
Alex continued to watch Dean with a faint smile. He had long realized that Amara was gradually granting Dean power—carefully, in measured doses so that he barely noticed. And she did it every time she appeared to him in a dream. Alex had told Dean about it, but, as usual, Dean forgot.
Chuckling slightly at his partner, Alex knocked on the door. A calm female voice responded from inside:
"Come in."
Alex opened the door and saw the tall woman in a flawless white suit again. Larissa Weems—graceful, strict, almost as tall as Alex himself. Her neatly styled short hair emphasized her classic elegance and gave her a confident, mature charm. The office matched its owner—strict, aristocratic, tastefully furnished in an old-fashioned style.
Larissa looked at them attentively.
"How can I help you?" she asked in a professionally polite tone.
"Agents Winchester and Voldigoad," Dean said, showing the FBC badge. "We're investigating the case of three murders near your academy."
"I see. I didn't expect the Bureau to take interest in an incident the locals consider an attack by a wild animal," Larissa replied calmly.
"And yet we are here, Miss Weems," Alex said calmly. "We won't stay long and won't inconvenience your students. We understand why this academy was created."
"In that case, ask your questions. I'll answer everything I can," Larissa said, gesturing for them to sit.
They sat opposite the principal, and Dean began asking the standard questions: had anyone seen anything suspicious in the forest, were there any students under suspicion, had similar incidents occurred previously. Alex listened silently, letting Dean lead the conversation.
At the same time, he noticed something important: Larissa clearly knew what the FBC was. Her confidence and composure left no doubt—she had dealt with the Bureau far more often than she let on.
But as soon as the conversation touched on the bodies in the forest, she skillfully, almost imperceptibly, steered the topic away. Alex could spot lies immediately—subtle movements of the lips, barely noticeable tension in the shoulders. And he understood: she was hiding the truth not out of malice, but to protect the students. Children who had no place in the ordinary world. Children who could only feel even a little safe here.
Alex respected that. And Larissa's behavior even impressed him.
When the questions were over, they said their goodbyes and left the office, not discussing the conversation until they were back in the Impala.
"Do you think she lied to us?" Dean asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
"Yes, she did," Alex admitted, opening the window to light a cigarette. "She knows about the bodies and what happened inside the academy before. But she's not going to talk."
Dean grimaced.
"Dude, stop smoking in my baby. She's gonna stink of smoke."
"My cigarettes don't smell. Don't whine. If anything—I'll pay for a full dry cleaning," Alex waved him off.
"Sure, rich boy. But why are both she and the whole town covering up the murders? Why call it an animal attack?" Dean asked, glancing at Alex.
Alex inhaled and exhaled smoke out the window.
"Because nobody needs hunters. Imagine what would happen if a dozen thugs with shotguns showed up here. Nothing good would come of it. And the main thing—there's no smell of blood on the students."
Dean raised an eyebrow.
"So, monster kids aren't being fed human meat?"
"They aren't. No scent of blood. I'd notice. The smell lingers a long time; it's impossible to hide," Alex replied, flicking the cigarette out the window.
"Well… that's at least comforting," Dean nodded. "Monster school, but no human menu. That's progress."
Alex smirked and stretched his hand out the window.
Back in town, they stopped at a local diner for dinner. Naturally, Alex wasn't about to cook while they were in this town—so they had to eat out.
Over the meal, they discussed everything they had learned, but the conclusion was the same: all threads led to Nevermore Academy. And they had almost no leads.
After dinner, they went to the hotel to check in and prepare for tomorrow's investigation.
Meanwhile, in the female dormitory, Ophelia Hall, Wednesday played the cello.
Her room was under the roof, with a large round stained-glass window through which soft light poured. Wednesday sat on the spacious balcony; the cold wind tossed her black braids, and the deep notes of the cello echoed across the academy grounds.
The music helped her sort her thoughts. On a special stand in front of her lay the sheet music, the pages turned by a living hand—a family assistant named Thing.
When the melody ended, Enid stepped out onto the balcony.
"How did you even get that… giant cello out here?" she asked, surprised.
"With three hands," Wednesday replied coldly.
Enid stared at the strange living hand resting on the music stand. Several absurd thoughts flashed through her mind at once, and she didn't immediately understand what she was seeing.
Thing waved his fingers at her in a friendly manner—that was how he usually greeted people. Then he deftly jumped off the music stand and, quickly tapping his fingers across the ground, ran away.
Enid instinctively took a step back, following with her eyes as the… hand scuttled away.
"Whoa… where's the rest of him?" she asked, forcing herself to hide her disgust and keep a smile.
"That's one of the Addams family's secrets," Wednesday replied coldly, gathering the sheet music.
"Okay…" Enid tried to compose herself. "What do you think of those agents?"
"Which part?" Wednesday raised her icy gaze. "About how you wagged your tail when he petted you on the head? Or the string of murders?"
"I wasn't wagging my tail!" Enid protested, then quickly softened. "And anyway… the agent you were talking to… he's really handsome. Totally my type. And the type of many girls too. Men like that—walking ideals. Charming, confident, well-groomed…" Enid smiled, leaning on the balcony railing.
"There's an old saying: 'Be careful—the devil has a handsome face,'" Wednesday remarked, still coldly.
"Then he's devilishly handsome. And he smells… really nice," Enid said dreamily.
She remembered how Alex had stroked her hair—unexpectedly gently, almost tenderly.
Suddenly, a long wolf howl echoed nearby. Enid's face darkened.
Wednesday noticed the change. Her roommate usually smiled, but now she had gone quiet. It was strange enough for Wednesday to ask:
"What's wrong?"
And Enid finally opened up.
She explained that she couldn't transform on a full moon like normal werewolves. That even at home, she was considered… wrong. That she was afraid of dying alone—after all, wolves are pack creatures.
Wednesday didn't understand why loneliness was seen as a tragedy.
"Everyone dies alone. It's inevitable," she said honestly.
Enid started crying.
Wednesday was even more bewildered—she had always found it hard to understand other people's emotions. But Enid finally spoke plainly: she felt like an outcast, even among her own kind.
Then, strangely enough, Wednesday decided to tell her own story.
About a pet scorpion that had been killed.About how she couldn't protect it.About how she cried all her tears on its tiny grave… and promised herself she would never cry again.
Enid listened, eyes wide. In that moment, she felt a connection form between them.
"I'll keep your secret… though you're still terribly strange," she said with a warm smile.
"Our feelings are mutual. Want to live alone again?" Wednesday responded coldly, arms crossed.
"What are you planning?" Enid asked warily.
"Show me how to use a computer," Wednesday said calmly.
"What? You're giving up your typewriter that clacks like an ancient tractor?" Enid asked, smiling slightly, thinking about finally not having to listen to that annoying noise.
"No. I need to contact the agent I have a deal with. I want to learn more about the investigation," Wednesday said calmly.
"I doubt he'll give you classified information. They're federal agents…" Enid bit her lip.
"He has the look of a man who honors a deal. In that, we're alike," Wednesday replied, casting a cold glance at Enid.
"How do you know? You've barely talked… and just hypnotized each other with your eyes," Enid said in genuine surprise.
"It's intuition. It's never failed me," Wednesday said, still cold and composed.
Enid just nodded.
She didn't even ask how Wednesday planned to find the agents—after all, she didn't know where they were staying. All she could do was teach her to use the computer.
Wednesday wrote a short note and handed it to Thing.
He snapped his fingers, grabbed the paper, and hurried to carry out the task—find Alex, wherever he might be.
To be continued…
(Regarding the plot. I'm still debating whether to develop Alex's romantic relationships with Wednesday and Enid. Honestly, I'm still debating. I've liked Wednesday since childhood, and I liked Enid after watching the series. I think this plot will last as long as Alan Wake's, or even longer. But if you think about it, Alex might just go and put a bullet in the head of the main culprit and Tyler. And what's the point? Because if Alex starts doing that, it will lose all the interest. After all, Alex tries to enjoy every moment of his work, getting into different roles and trying out different professions. In general, regarding the romantic relationships with Wednesday and Enid. And don't forget that even a girl like Wednesday will subconsciously trust Alex, and Enid, being a werewolf, will naturally be drawn to Alex. Once again, I want to hear your opinion.)
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