As a matter of fact, Magica might partially reside in the dime, but her consciousness lurked within Mrs. Beakley. The fight with Scrooge had taken more out of her than she'd have admitted were she to speak to someone else. Impotent and weak, she bided her time. Mrs. Beakley was upset and her turbulent emotions made it easy to manipulate her. Magica could possess her for short periods of time, which she was putting to good use through magical research. This was the source of the "lost time" Mrs. Beakley complained about.
She hadn't even worked to isolate the older duck. Beakley did it all on her own. The old bird was nursing her wounds and hadn't confided in anyone, not that she had anyone to confide in. Unfortunately, Magica had no way of regaining full control. She needed to find a new host; when she wasn't possessing Beakley, she was stuck in the shadow realm. The shadow realm sucked big time.
This situation was far from ideal and Magica wanted it rectified. More than that, she wanted to crush Lena's throat for betraying her. When Mrs. Beakley was in control, Magica lurked, watching Lena and Webby.
Lena wasn't adjusting well to freedom. Magica found it amusing. An errant touch caused the former shadow to flinch. Loud noises startled her. She anticipated verbal abuse all the time and hid away when she felt vulnerable. Webby was working at rectifying that and Magica hoped she failed. She hoped Lena continued to suffer. If she couldn't personally attack her, then she wanted her specter to linger. She wanted her words to echo in Lena's head every day and remind her of her failure.
It was the least she could do.
Mrs. Beakley sequestered herself in her room. She'd failed Webby once today and she didn't intend to compound that mistake. Webby was lingering nearby; she could feel her granddaughter hesitate. It was funny-a while ago, she'd been calling her Agent 22. She'd not been close to her and there'd been a brief window when they had reconciled that difference. Now, however, she didn't see them bridging that gap. There was something wrong, something indefinable, and Mrs. Beakley did not want to upset Webby by revealing what she feared. The child didn't need that hanging over her head.
Webby knocked on the door and Mrs. Beakley sighed. She owed her granddaughter an apology and an explanation. However, telling her the truth was out of the question. Besides which, she knew Webby well enough to know that she'd take it to extremes. Still, she had to come up with something to tell her. Blowing her off again was unacceptable.
She'd dithered too long. Webby knocked again, hesitant again.
"Granny?" she ventured and then when that didn't yield a response, murmured, "Agent 22?"
So they were back to that again. Mrs. Beakley suppressed another sigh. She deserved it after the way she'd been pushing her back. Reluctantly, she opened the door. Her room was slightly disordered, which was unusual for her. Webby would probably notice and she felt the shadow of something snort in amusement. It was gone within an instant, short enough for her to trick herself into believing she'd imagined it.
"Are you okay? You missed our training session and you've been rather aloof. Did I do something +-wrong?"
Mrs. Beakley knelt by Webby's side. "No, of course not, dear."
"Uncle Scrooge didn't know where you'd gone either. If it's not me, then what is it? Is Magica back?"
"No," she said. It was technically true if what Mrs. Beakley suspected was accurate. Magica couldn't be 'back' because she'd never left. Besides, this was too heavy for a child to deal with. Webby ought to be training for SHUSH-although, on the other hand, that was the sort of thing that a SHUSH agent might be grappling with. She was at a crossroads.
"What's going on? Is it some super secret SHUSH mission that you can't tell anyone about?"
That would've been the easy way out of this discussion and she was tempted to take it. However, to do so would be to lie to Webby, who didn't deserve it, as well as treat her more like a child than she already was accustomed to. Bentina had sworn she wouldn't do that. That left the hard road, which she supposed she'd already been heading toward anyway.
"Has Lena been able to detect Magica?" she asked, sharper than she'd intended, and Webby looked simultaneously guilty and concerned.
"I...I asked her about it. She said she'd keep an eye out, but she doesn't like to," Webby said. "You said Magica was gone."
"No, dear. I said Magica wasn't back."
Webby stared. She'd get it. She was a bright girl. Clever turns of phrases wouldn't stymie her. It would've confused Dewey for sure and possibly Huey for a moment, but not Webby or Louie. They'd know in a half a minute, at most. Sure enough, she saw dawning comprehension and horror strike Webby's features.
"She's not back because she never left," Webby breathed. "But I thought we exorcised her! She shouldn't have any power! You're not...you're not her right now, are you? I mean, not that you'd tell me, but…"
She glowered at Mrs. Beakley. "Where are you hiding, you bad baddie? What are you doing to my granny?"
"She's not here at the moment," Bentina said gently. She decided it'd be best if she didn't give too many incriminating details. Webby was alerted as it was. Was Magica right? Did Mrs. Beakley only have her adopted granddaughter and Scrooge McDuck as confidantes and even then, not that much? Her shoulders sank. Magica was probably right, which made it hurt all the more.
"We have to tell Uncle Scrooge right away," she said and tugged on Mrs. Beakley's hand.
"No, we don't," she said and at once knew this was the decision Magica would have advocated for. Or insisted on, considering her personality. In Webby's hip pocket, her phone played the opening theme to a cartoon Mrs. Beakley didn't recognize. It sounded like someone was calling her, which was either divine providence or extremely good timing.
Webby ignored it.
"I can handle this myself."
"But Mr. McDuck-"
"Need not be troubled with this," she answered and Webby frowned, cocking her head. Her phone continued to play its little ditty and Webby continued to disregard it.
"You need help," she protested. "Oh, I know! Lena and I can research magical lure and see if we can extract Magica that way."
She was sure she was well-intentioned, although it was giving her a bit of a headache. In truth, she didn't know how to extract Magica. However, this would keep Webby (and Lena) occupied. It also might involve delving into dangerous magical spells. Why was everything turning out into such terrible extremes?
"If you find anything remotely dangerous, I want you to tell me right away," she warned. "I don't want you meddling with something that could hurt you, Webby."
"I promise," Webby said and smiled, relieved. She hugged Mrs. Beakley and the older duck had a strange flash of attacking Webby. She shuddered, knowing that for what it was. There had to be a way to fix this without risking Webby's safety. And if it meant keeping Webby at arm's length, then she'd do it.
Even if that was exactly what Magica wanted.
"Granny?" Webby inquired after releasing her. "Are you okay?"
She sighed. "When I tell you to, you'll need to excuse me."
"I wish I could smack her out of you myself," Webby muttered and then flashed her grandmother a brilliant smile. "But Lena and I will fix this. Don't worry about it."
She bounded off, presumably to do just that, and Mrs. Beakley slumped.
"That's exactly what I want," Magica thought and Mrs. Beakley shuddered again, wishing, like Webby, that she could take the sorceress's claws out of her. Maybe it was time to tell Scrooge. She'd been holding off on it the last time and that hadn't done much good.
There had to be a way to keep her at bay before she could exact her vengeance. Damnable woman. Scrooge had so many curses and jinxes over his head thanks to his adventuring days that he could hardly fail to have an amulet or charm that would keep Magica away.
It was like having a demon inside of you, almost exactly like that. She should have realized that Magica wouldn't have relinquished her grip once she'd found what she considered a suitable host. The only other possibilities for hosts would've been the children.
All of this ruminating was getting her nowhere. She was sitting here, thinking to herself instead of taking action. Huffing, she pushed herself back on her feet and headed for Scrooge's office. Judging by the voices emanating from within, Webby had reached him before her. Mrs. Beakley would rather have given him the news herself instead of through an intermediary and she felt a flash of disconnected irritation that she squashed. It was odd to have emotional flashes that didn't belong to you. It made her feel like an alien.
She had better run damage control. Steeling herself for an encounter, she marched into Scrooge's office. Lena was there too, although she was rather quiet and pale. The older teen was rocking back and forth in her sneakers and when she caught Mrs. Beakley's gaze, she flinched. Mrs. Beakley belatedly remembered Magica attacking her in her body and suppressed a sigh. No, she didn't blame the child for fearing her.
"I'm sure I can rustle up something to ward Magica off in the meantime…" Scrooge was saying when she'd entered. "Oh. Beakley."
"I had wanted to tell you before children did, but it appears I was too slow," she said apologetically.
"Nonsense, Beakley. Ye should have come to me straight away."
His eyes narrowed. "However, if Magica is still connected to ye, I may have to let you take a vacation...just for a few days while I follow up some leads."
Magica hissed in her mind and Mrs. Beakley nodded.
"I completely agree, Mr. McDuck," she said firmly, regardless of how her companion in her mind felt about it. Bloody witch.
"Good," he said and then examined her. "Ye could use the rest anyway, Beakley. Fightin' Magica can't be too good for ye."
She nodded, swallowing hard. She deserved this. On the one hand, she could stand to have more rest and on the other, she'd be subject to too much sensitive information otherwise.
"With that settled…" Scrooge said and glowered at Webby. "I don't want ye pokin' around in dangerous magic, Webbigail."
"Told you," Lena said quietly and then cringed at Mrs. Beakley's attention. Mrs. Beakley raised her hand to reassure her and Lena stepped back, shuddering. She thought she was going to hit her. Webby hadn't failed to notice either and stepped defensively before her friend. It stung.
"If that's all…?" Scrooge said, paying close attention to Lena too. Lena looked like she wanted to hide in a corner.
"That's all," Webby reassured him and took Lena's hand. She squeezed it and smiled at Lena. Lena attempted a reciprocating smile that looked painful.
They left, all except for Mrs. Beakley who lingered.
"Bentina, ye cannae keep this information to yourself all the time," he chastised. "Ye're hurtin' more than just yourself."
He put his hands on her shoulders. "I care about ye. Webbigail cares about ye. Heck, even Launchpad probably cares a little. Don't beat yourself up.
"I know how that witch works. She'll try to get inside yer head an' make you believe anythin' she says because she enjoys tormentin' people. Donnae let her get away with it. And for heaven's sake, yer not an island."
He patted her on the shoulders. "Pack yer bags. I'll arrange a vacation on a cruise ship somewhere far from here. Donnae worry."
"You don't have to do that-" she protested.
"Of course I do," he said and she read the intention behind his words. With her on a cruise ship, Magica's powers would be limited. She hoped that'd be enough. And she hoped Magica didn't come up with a plan to counteract Scrooge's schemes…
"Why aren't you answering your phone?" Gosalyn grumbled. She glared at her cell phone as if it were its fault that Webby wasn't responding. She'd have to go over there in person and talk to her sister. Unfortunately, Darkwing Duck was out and Launchpad was nowhere near, probably at McDuck Manor. It was a pretty far walk from St. Canard to Duckburg, not to mention that McDuck Manor was at the very back of town. Plus, she'd have to hire an Uber and she didn't have money.
"Oh my god, just pick up the phone already!" she snapped. It'd gone to voicemail several times and she'd left Webby messages, as well as texting her. It didn't seem like she was getting the hint.
There had to be another way for her to catch a ride into town that didn't involve wheedling people or paying. She couldn't drive-her feet could barely reach the pedals. She supposed she could bike ride. After all, Darkwing wouldn't notice she was gone for so long and it might be her only mode of transportation. Of course, a car would be faster, but she didn't see that she had any alternative.
Huffing, she got her bike out, as well as the helmet (she could just hear her father admonishing her for not taking safety seriously), and wheeled out from the house. Hopefully, she remembered how to get to McDuck Manor from here. It was approaching nightfall-she'd better pedal fast if she hoped to avoid being out after dark in St. Canard. Duckburg had its own crime racket, but St. Canard was infamous for it. She didn't want to run into Quackerjack or Megavolt after dark.
While she pedaled, she kept the phone on speaker. It was still dialing and she grew weary of listening to it ring. At an intersection and the stoplight, she growled and pulled out her phone from its basket in front of her bike.
"Answer your goddamn phone, Webby!" she snapped and then looked around guiltily, worried that someone was going to call her out on cursing. It wasn't really cursing, but it was close enough that she'd probably get in trouble for it if her father heard it. Never mind that she'd heard her father say way worse, but apparently, it was acceptable for adults to curse, not children.
Aggravated, she muttered imprecations under her breath when the light changed to green. Overhead, the sky was darkening ominously. While Megavolt had electrical powers and did occasionally leave St. Canard in the dark, shutting out the sun was different. It'd been sunny a moment ago-where had all of these clouds come from?
Thunder boomed, startling her, and she looked up as big, fat raindrops came down. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea. Then again, maybe she could beat the rain into Duckburg. Of course, her legs were already burning from the pressure of pedaling as it was, but she was positive she could beat the weather.
To her surprise, her phone rang while she was pedaling toward the bridge. She pulled over and yanked out her phone. She didn't recognize the number and then, when she answered, she groaned. It was a spam call. It wasn't Webby at all.
Pausing meant that the weather had a chance to catch up and she was soon pelted with cold, frigid drops. Within minutes, she was soaked. She glanced up at one of the towers on the bridge and sighed. She'd have to take shelter in the hideout. Maybe when she was there, she could call for a ride.
Thunder boomed, so loud that it shook her and chattered her teeth. With haste, she rushed up toward the hideout. By the time she reached it, her feathers were stuck to her shirt and her sneakers squelched as she plopped into Darkwing's chair. Eh, he could dry it out later, when it'd stopped raining. She wasn't overly concerned.
Her phone rang again and if it was a spam call, she swore she was going to scream.
But, no, this time, it was Webby.
"Why didn't you answer?!" Gosalyn snapped before Webby had a chance to draw breath. "I left you, like, five messages, fifteen missed calls, a bunch of texts-what are you doing that's so important?"
"Magica still has Granny in her clutches," Webby blurted. "Lena and I've been researching-"
"Tuskerninni's in Duckburg!" Gosalyn blurted. In her defense, she'd been sitting on that for a while. She couldn't have held it back if she'd wanted to.
"He's interested in McDuck Studios because they're doing a biopic on Gizmoduck," Gosalyn added.
"That's…" Webby faltered.
"Sorry," Gosalyn said. "But you wouldn't answer your phone and it doesn't look like you looked at your messages."
"Uncle Scrooge is sending Granny out on a cruise and she's gone already," Webby said, sounding morose. At once, Gosalyn felt guilty for having put herself first. True, this FOWL business was important, but she hadn't meant to make Webby feel like her news was insignificant. Her dad said she was always doing this. She got overeager.
"Is she okay?" Gosalyn said in a hushed voice.
"I don't know. Granny won't tell me anything. It's like she's back into her Agent 22 guise. Does Darkwing Duck do that?"
"No," she said and felt even guiltier. "How long has this been going on?"
"Ever since Magica possessed Granny and then we thought she was gone," Webby said. "We were close for a while and then she pushed me away again. I guess she was doing it to protect me."
"I'm sorry," she said, feeling like the words were inadequate. "Why didn't you say something before?"
"You've been busy too," she pointed out. "Haven't you been training for SHUSH with Darkwing?"
"And with his girlfriend." Gosalyn rolled her eyes. "I'm still not sold on Morgana, even if Dad's forgiven her."
"See? Don't feel bad."
Gosalyn growled. Webby was putting her feelings to the side for someone else again. She thought she heard Lena in the background say, "Seriously, pink?"
"Tuskerninni's not as important as this," Gosalyn protested.
"But he's going after Uncle Scrooge."
"Since when do you call him that?"
"Since he told me to." Gosalyn could hear the shrug in Webby's voice.
"What do we do?" Gosalyn asked. There was no doubt about it. She intended to help her sister in anyway she could. After all, they were sisters. They'd even taken a blood oath years ago, which made it official. They had each other's blood running through their veins. Okay, maybe it didn't work like that, but in Gosalyn's mind, it did.
"If Granny's away, then we have some time," Webby said and swallowed hard. "I hope."
"She'll be okay."
"You don't know that," Lena scoffed. Gosalyn wasn't certain whether she was replying to Webby or her.
"We'll figure this out," Gosalyn said, determined to be positive and encouraging in place of Lena's pessimism. Then again, if she'd been attached to an evil harpy for fifteen years, she probably wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows either.
"I'd have come over there, but it's pouring here," Gosalyn added.
"Really? That's weird. It's sunny here…" Webby said, frowning. "Maybe we're due for a storm, though. This is the first time the sun's come out all day."
"I tried biking in this, but-"
Thunder boomed and Gosalyn grimaced. "See? Or, hear, I mean."
"Yeah, I do. Don't worry about us. We'll figure something out."
"I'm still coming over there once it stops raining or when Darkwing shows up. Whether you like it or not," Gosalyn mock-threatened.
"I'd love to see you," Webby replied and she could hear the smile in her sister's voice.
With that settled, Gosalyn was abruptly aware of her sodden state. She didn't have any clothes in the hideout, probably because her father didn't want to encourage her to move in here. Therefore, she'd have to wear something of her father's. She didn't mind, even if it'd swim on her. Better to be wearing something huge than something that you could wring out.
After she hung up with Webby, she left a mess behind her while she searched for clean clothes. Darkwing Duck could clean that up later. Or, in all likelihood, he'd make her do it. But that was a problem for future Gosalyn.
She felt ridiculous in Darkwing's get-up, complete with the hat, but if she was going to do this thing, she'd do it properly. The hat was absolutely necessary.
She was sure that Mrs. Beakley would be fine. That was what she told Gosalyn, wasn't it? And she wanted to believe it, for both their sakes.
Maybe she could cosplay as Darkwing Duck while she was wearing this. She smirked. LARP, anyone? It was a shame Webby was in Duckburg. She'd have loved someone to play the villain. She was sure Webby could be formidable if she was pushed too far.
Throwing back her head, Gosalyn cackled and then stopped. No, that just sounded weird. She'd leave villainy to the criminals.
She guessed she had nothing to do but chill here in the meanwhile. She definitely had homework she was avoiding again, but oh well. Homework was for Honker and nerds. She would coast by with whatever she could get away with.
