Sheriff Galpin eased Tyler's limp body into the police cruiser's back seat, securing him gentle. He slid behind the wheel, siren lights pulsing low. "Follow me—all of you."
Xavier stared at unconscious Tyler, grudge simmering in his eyes. He shoved it down. "We'll take my van."
Aleksander nodded. The group piled in—Xavier gunned the engine, tailing Galpin's taillights through winding roads.
They pulled into the Galpin property. Underground shelter: Francoise's old transformation bunker, concrete walls scarred from Hyde rages.
Aleksander extended his hand. Vibrant green energy shackles materialized, snapping tight around Tyler's wrists and ankles with a low hum.
Aleksander dragged a table into the shelter's center, tracing a seven-pointed star in salt that shimmered faint under the bare bulb.He centered a black bowl over it, tossing in ingredients with precise motions:
Nightshade Familiar Base: 13 black henbane berries steeped with mugwort sprigs.
Wolfsbane Tincture: 9 aconite petals in blackberry cordial.
Tyler's hair lock: 3 strands knotted with vervain.
Rowan Wand Dust: 7 curls shaved from a twig.
Grinding counterclockwise with a black-handled athame in a pentacle-carved mortar, salt line thrice-circled. Willow-charcoal embers simmered it 9 minutes as he chanted low: "Shadow kinneled, wild hearted—familiar forged, curse departed!"
Potion bubbled raven-black, shifting to moon-silver with whispering wisps. Vial ready.Tyler lay shackled at the chalked pentagram's heart—black mirror, besom broom, four quartz points at quarters.
Sheriff Galpin watched from the shadows, fists clenched, eyes locked on his boy.
Aleksander tipped the vial to Tyler's lips. Potion coursed down. "Nornar binda—sever bond."
Tyler's veins traced silver filigrees under skin. Shackles crackled—rot unweaving.
"Skuggabani—lasso shadow."Besom swept five-point star over his chest. Golden threads lassoed the Hyde shadow beneath, claws sheathing, eyes dimming from blood-red to violet.
Black mirror pressed to brow. Chant x3:
"Villubundinn—bind to will."Tyler spasmed hard—Hyde bulk strained chains, then shrank. Rampage erased.
Potion dregs traced sigils on his palms. Shackles melted to crescent scars. Tyler stirred, eyes clearing—lucid, power leashed.
Sheriff Galpin stepped forward, voice thick. "Tyler."
Tyler stirred, eyes focusing slow on his father. "Dad..."
Galpin's eyes welled. "Son."
Tyler pushed up—Hyde memories slammed in: blood sprays, screams, claws rending. He lurched, vomiting hard onto the concrete.
"I'm a monster," he rasped.
Galpin steadied him, grip firm. "What happened to you?"
Aleksander sighed. "His Hyde memories are hitting at full force. The Hyde part of him numbed his empathy during kills. Now he's cured—it's overwhelming him. Give him time and make sure to support him."
Galpin's jaw clenched, guilt raw. "Who's the bastard that did this to my boy?"
Tyler cut in, voice low. "Marilyn Thornhill."
Galpin stiffened. "That Nevermore normie professor?"
Tyler nodded, trembling. "She found me. Told me about Mom being a Hyde."
Galpin swallowed hard—Tyler's longing for his mother had festered for years. Françoise's death shattered him; he'd buried her in silence, drowning in sheriff work, leaving Tyler adrift.
"She started friendly," Tyler pressed on, "gained my trust. Then chained me in a cave—tortured me with her plant brews. Which unlocked the Hyde."
Galpin held him tight as tremors hit. Fury boiled.
Aleksander spoke even. "Hydes bond loyal to whoever awakens them. Tyler couldn't fight her."
"Who is she?" Galpin growled. "Why my son?"
"You know her," Aleksander said.
Confusion creased Galpin's face."Laurel Gates."
Galpin reeled. "Impossible. She's dead."
Aleksander's smile sharpened. "No body confirmed. Marilyn's a fake identity. She's using Tyler as her pawn here."
He nodded to Rowan, who pulled out his mother's drawing—Nevermore in flames—and thrust it at Galpin. "Mom's psychic. Saw this vision here at the academy."
Galpin's eyes traced the scorched towers. He connected the dots."Revenge. For her family."
Aleksander nodded.
Galpin burned with rage, snatching his sheriff hat and gun off the table. "No one touches my boy and gets away with it."
Aleksander blocked the door. "What are you going to do?"
"Arrest that bitch," Galpin snarled, holstering the pistol.
Aleksander shook his head. "Calm down. We have no evidence against her."
Wednesday spoke up, voice flat. "Tyler was her sword. No direct link. No proof of the master-servant bond."
Aleksander nodded. "She's careful. I doubt she left traces when she meets Tyler."
Tyler shook his head, still pale. "She only met me for serious stuff. Kill orders came through notes. I was ordered to burn them after reading."
Galpin's fist clenched. "So what—let her walk?"
Aleksander leaned in. "No. We build proof. Tyler's free now—he can act as double agent, feeds us intel on her moves."
Tyler and Galpin blinked, stunned. Galpin's worry spiked. "What if she smells something off?"
He sensed Laurel Gates' ruthlessness now—she'd crush anything in her path.
Tyler straightened, voice steady despite the ghosts in his eyes. "I can do it, Dad. Gotta make up for the blood on my hands."
Galpin locked eyes with Tyler—worry and sadness carving deep lines. He nodded slow, reluctant. "Alright, son."
Aleksander pulled a battered map across the table, chalking Laurel's greenhouse and Nevermore routes. "Tyler feeds her fake compliance. We shadow drops, trace notes back. First sting tomorrow."
Wednesday's eyes gleamed cold. "Bait her with a 'failed' hit. Draw her out."
Enid nodded fierce. "I will help out in anyway possible."
Xavier flipped open his small sketchpad, revealing a detailed spider sketch. He focused—ink rippled alive. The drawing peeled off the page, legs skittering real across the table toward Wednesday. "My animations see everything they see now. Perfect spy cams."
Aleksander knew Xavier's powers had leveled up—diverse, potent surveillance through any creation.
Tyler gripped the table edge. "When do I start?"
Aleksander met his gaze. "Dawn tomorrow. Drop this forged note by her greenhouse: Target missed. Need new orders."
Sheriff holstered his gun. "Radios stay open. One wrong move—"
"We pull him," Aleksander cut in. "Clean."