A. N. - So this story has been stuck in my head for the last few days I hope you like.(six weeks now) And please don't kill me for how it ends.
She stared at the door, her feathered hand raised to knock. Fear and uncertainty clawing at her resolve. "They have to know her, they have to," she muttered as her arm fell. Letting out a sigh, as her head thunked against the door.
"They have to know, they have to know," she repeated as she let her head thunk against the door once more. She almost fell forward as the door swung open to her surprise.
"Sir," she froze as a voice from further in started. She could hear children playing in the hallway just beyond the door. "It is improper for a master of the house to greet company."
"Curse me kilts," grumbled the duck whose feet she was now staring at. "I can still answer my own door, I'm not senile yet." The last said under his breath.
"Be that as it may," the voice continued in a very put upon tone. "We have yet to ascertain the intentions of this… visitor. A visitor, I might add, whom is unannounced and has bypassed the security gate." Her eyes shifted to the right and through her black hair she spotted the aforementioned gate. She wanted to smack herself in the face.
"Oh, for crying out loud," the duck before her scowled. "None of my nemeses use the front door," he paused. "Well except maybe old Flinty, but that's usually so he can deliver the invitation to the death trap, or possibly the explosive of the week." He chuckled. "Besides the explosion might have knocked out the gate intercom."
"I'll have it looked into at once," the voice stated in a resigned tone.
Turning to give her his full attention he asked, "may I help ye lass?"
She swallowed nervously, "would you happen to be Scrooge McDuck?"
"Aye, that is my name."
Mouth feeling very dry she choked out, "you might not know who I am…" She paused, "but my name is Magica de…"
She was interrupted by her bill and thus her head being violently jerked upwards. Her eyes went from the rapier under her bill, anyone else would have said was a cane, to his eyes. His eyes shone with uncertainty and a hint of curiosity drowned in a pool of rage.
The children were huddled together with the girl taking a protective stance in front of the three boys. The fury radiating from her was almost palatable.
Her full undivided attention was brought back to the duck in front of her when he growled, "what do you want?"
""So... I take it we've met," she replied nervously.
"Aye," his tone was a bit uncertain, but his guard was still up in anticipation of her next move.
She opened her beak to answer his question when someone pressed an axe to back of her neck. "Mr. McDuck," said her executioner. Of coarse, much like the rapier at her throat she would have mistaken it for a dustpan any other day.
"You were saying," he reminded her, still uncertain.
"Yes, um.." she collected herself. "I was wondering if perhaps you know or maybe have seen my daughter, Lena LeStrange?"
The moment the name left her beak, uncertainty and regret flitter across his face. As his cane slips slightly, despair squeezes her heart. "No," whispers past her beak, as she tries to deny it.
Before either of them can say anything else, a primal cry of fury draws their attention. The young girl is charging at her and shouting, "no one has seen her since you killed her." Tears are streaming down her face as she continues to shout. The adults kept the child from attacking her physically, but judging from their faces the child continued verbally.
She clutched her heart, as it pounded in her ears so loud it drowned out everything. Everything, except the child's words. "You killed her, you killed her, you killed her!" Finally she let out a wail of unrelenting anguish, and collapsed to the ground. Her arms laid listlessly at her side, a vacant stare in her eyes as tears flowed freely down her face.