Chapter 7: Shadows of Speed
Adam Stiels slipped through Nevermore's fog-shrouded halls, the stone walls damp with condensation, the air heavy with the musty scent of old books and flickering candle wax. His HUD glowed faintly: Level 1, 9/100 uses, 10-minute cooldowns. The Time Control System was his secret weapon, but memory gaps about the Hyde and Crackstone left him grasping at shadows. Wednesday Addams had tasked him with trailing Xavier Thorpe, her latest vision—claws, blood, ravens—pointing to the psychic artist as a potential threat. Adam's goals: uncover Xavier's secrets, keep Enid's smile, and dodge Wednesday's razor-sharp suspicions. Let's not get dissected today, he thought, his boots silent on the worn stone floor.
The Nightshades' secret alcove was a crypt of whispers, its stone walls carved with raven motifs that seemed to watch him. Candlelight flickered, casting shadows like specters across Bianca Barclay's silver jewelry and Ajax Petropolus' nervous fidgeting. Wednesday stood at the center, her black dress absorbing the light, her voice cold as a winter grave. "Xavier's sketches match my vision—a monster, claws, blood. He's hiding something. Stiels, follow him and find it." Her eyes locked on Adam, her trust a tightrope he wasn't sure he could walk. Xavier? Could be a decoy, but these gaps aren't helping, he thought, his memory a fog where the Hyde's face should be.
Outside, Adam trailed Xavier to the art studio, the cobblestone path slick underfoot, the fog curling like ghostly fingers. The studio was a chaos of canvases, paint splattered like a crime scene, the air sharp with turpentine. Xavier hunched over a sketch, his long fingers smudged with charcoal. Slow Time: 30 seconds. Activate? The world slowed—Xavier's brush crawled across the canvas, sketching a raven with bloodied claws, his brow furrowed. Adam crept closer, rifling through a sketchbook on a nearby table. Pages of ravens, claws, and shadowy figures stared back, but nothing concrete. The system snarked: Snooping on an artist? Hope you're ready for an emo meltdown, Picasso. Time resumed with a snap, and Xavier turned, oblivious, as Adam slipped out, heart pounding. No smoking gun, but Wednesday's gonna want more.
In the quad, Enid Sinclair's voice cut through the fog like a burst of sunlight. "Adam, Rave'N's coming up. Go with me?" Her pink sweater was a splash of color, her eyes sparkling, but her glance at Ajax, chatting with a gorgon across the quad, hinted at conflict. Adam's jealousy flared, a sharp twist in his gut. "I'm in, Sinclair," he said, forcing a grin, his voice lighter than he felt. "But only if you don't outshine the disco ball." She laughed, nudging his shoulder, her touch warm. "Don't make me regret this, troublemaker." Her grin was infectious, but Ajax's glare was a storm cloud brewing. She's into me, but Ajax is a problem, Adam thought, his monologue swirling. And these gaps—why can't I place the Hyde? The system quipped: Jealous already? Focus, Romeo, or you'll trip over your own ego.
Back in his dorm, Thing scuttled in, clutching a stolen page from Xavier's sketchbook—a raven with bloodied claws, identical to Wednesday's vision. "Nice work, buddy," Adam said, fist-bumping the hand, its stitches rough against his knuckles. The clue was vague, but Wednesday would tear it apart. He met her in the library, the air thick with dust and the creak of ancient shelves. She examined the sketch, her eyes narrowing. "Xavier's involved, or he's a pawn," she said, her voice a blade. "Keep digging, Stiels." Adam nodded, his memory gaps a frustrating fog. What's the monster? Why's my mind blank?
For a prank, Adam targeted Xavier's art supplies. Slow Time: 30 seconds. The world lagged, Xavier frozen mid-stroke, paint dripping like molasses. Adam swapped his paintbrushes with spoons from the cafeteria, their metal handles clinking softly. The system laughed: Spoons for brushes? Xavier's gonna hate your art critique, genius. Time resumed, and Xavier cursed, tossing a spoon across the room, his scowl almost comical. Adam slipped away, grinning, the thrill of the prank grounding him.
The Nightshades reconvened, planning Rave'N surveillance. Bianca suggested watching Tyler Galpin, the barista with a too-smooth smile. "He's off," she said, her siren instincts sharp. Adam's gaps blocked any Hyde connection, but he agreed, his curiosity piqued. Enid joined him later, her energy a balm. "Rave'N's gonna be epic," she said, describing her glittery dress, her hands gesturing wildly. Adam's heart flipped, but Ajax's shadow loomed, his gorgon eyes tracking them. His monologue churned: Wednesday's onto something, Enid's my spark, but these gaps are gonna get someone hurt. Gotta stay sharp. The system pinged: 10/100 uses. Don't trip over your ego at the dance, hotshot.
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