"How often does this mirror work, anyway?" Louie asked. The three of them were perched on the cold cement floor in front of the mirror. It hadn't done anything remotely interesting and hunger gnawed at them, but they ignored it. They kept hoping they'd catch a glimpse of Webby through the glass, but all they saw were themselves. It was disheartening.
"I don't know," Dewey said. They'd sent Duckworth away, but he wouldn't be gone for long. And he was bound to tell Scrooge what they were up to, not to mention they still hadn't broken the news to Mrs. Beakley. On a whim, they cast their gazes at the mirror as if Webby might materialize by magic, but she didn't.
And Magica wouldn't treatise with them without any collateral. Plus, she didn't regard them highly. She was much more likely to listen to Unca Scrooge than them. Stymied again, they glowered at the mirror and their reflections glared back. Argh, this was ridiculous.
"We could stay here all night and nothing'll happen," Huey said, despondent. "How are we supposed to know when it'll open back up so we can grab Webby and get out of there?"
"What if there's no Webby to grab?" Dewey said. "What if we, you know…"
They swallowed hard. They didn't want to imagine how angry Scrooge would be if Webby didn't return, plus the guilt would probably eat them alive. It wasn't that they hated her and they'd certainly never wish death on an enemy, let alone someone they considered an annoyance at worst. But it was all too easy to picture what could have befallen Webby in an alternate dimension, especially without someone to protect her.
"What if she's…" Louie trailed off, afraid to finish the sentence. "What if she's dead?"
"We can sleep here and take watches," Huey suggested. "One of us will stay up for three hours and then another will take his place and so on. Maybe by the time we wake up, the mirror will be open again and we can go in."
"What if we get trapped like Webby?" Dewey said. "Or if whatever happened to her happens to us?"
That was a sobering thought and all three stared down at the floor. It wasn't just that they might've condemned Webby to death, but they could be consigning themselves to it too. Dewey kicked out at the mirror in frustration.
"What kinda cockamamie mirror is this, anyway?" Dewey demanded. "Why does Unca Scrooge have it? I thought he hated magic in all forms."
"Dewey!" Louie and Huey cried, aghast. Dewey turned to spy what his brothers already had. Where he'd kicked the glass, spiderweb cracks had appeared and a piece of the mirror broke off to fall onto the floor. Horrified, they exchanged glances. Had they broken it? How hard had Dewey kicked it?
The mirror appeared the same, save for the corner with cracks. Stricken, they stared at their reflections.
"One of us has to tell Unca Scrooge…" Huey said, voice shaking.
"Not me!" Louie and Dewey said at once. "We're not telling him!"
Huey cast his brothers a long-suffering look and they didn't speak, just pointed toward the exit. He knew his brothers would be there in spirit, but he didn't appreciate being singled out. In general, none of them liked being singled out. Their power lay in being a group. Strip them away from that and what were they?
Sighing, Huey exited the room while his brothers fretted over the mirror. His heart felt heavier with every step. Trudging through the halls, head down, he sought out Scrooge. He wasn't in his office nor was he in his bedroom. Of course, Scrooge had offices all over the place. He'd spent so much time in McDuck Manor that he'd spread out everywhere. Normally, that didn't bother the boys. Now, however, it meant that Huey was wandering the halls and his anxiety racketed up every time he didn't find him in an empty room.
"Huey, have you seen my Webby? It's almost time for bed and I can't find her anywhere," Mrs. Beakley said from behind him and Huey jumped about a foot in the air. He looked around for his brothers to help him out, but of course they had remained behind with the mirror. His heart thumped and he cursed them again for abandoning him. Talking to Scrooge was one thing, but telling Webby's only relative they'd lost her?
"Uh, hi, Mrs. Beakley," he said and considered lying. "About Webby…"
He almost hoped Scrooge was coming toward them so that their uncle could break the news instead of him. He had no such luck. The hallway remained deserted and Mrs. Beakley's face was pinched with nerves. Huey drew a breath to brace himself.
"You've seen her?" she gasped.
"We, uh, we kinda dared her to go into Unca Scrooge's archive room," Huey said, staring at his feet. "She went through a magic mirror and now we don't know where she is."
"You what?!" Mrs. Beakley exclaimed and Huey mumbled in response. He felt like he'd been crushed to the size of an ant.
"We, uh, we…" he trailed off.
"I heard you the first time! I can't believe you would do something like that!" Mrs. Beakley exclaimed. Huey didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't the first time they'd dared Webby to do something dangerous because she'd been ticking them off. Besides, it wasn't the time or the place to bring that up. Mrs. Beakley was freaking out.
"What if something happened to her? What if she's-" she stopped, gulping. "I couldn't bear it if anything happened to her! We have to get her back!"
"That's the thing, Mrs. Beakley," Huey said, still staring at his feet as if they had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the mansion. "We don't know how to get through the mirror. We only know that she went in 'cuz we found one of her tail feathers near it."
Huey lifted his head. "We'll get her back somehow. We'll go in there ourselves and bring her back."
If there was anything to bring back. And if Dewey hadn't damaged the mirror beyond repair. Huey's stomach roiled and he was afraid to look into Mrs. Beakley's eyes and see the disappointment and concern for Webby, that they'd given her and Unca Scrooge. And even though his brothers weren't nearby, he could feel them sharing in his misery.
"Huey!" Louie cried, running up to him. They always had an innate sense of where the others were and besides, he hadn't drifted too far from the archive room. Huey's heart pounded harder. He had the sinking feeling he wasn't going to like whatever it was that had brought Louie here.
"What's going on?" Huey said, wishing he could draw him aside to prevent Mrs. Beakley from overhearing.
"The mirror!" Louie said. "It's breaking itself!"
Horrified, he and Mrs. Beakley, with Louie leading the way, rushed back toward the archive room. They found the mirror was self-propagating the cracks, which had spread from side to side. They hadn't reached the top yet, but they had demolished the bottom part of the mirror, up to about their stomachs. Huey felt sick looking at it.
Mrs. Beakley swooned and they rushed to prop her up. Despite this, their gazes were linked, one and all, to the mirror. Oh, they were in so much trouble.
About fifteen minutes later, Scrooge arrived and inspected the mirror; he said nothing. This worried the boys immensely because they'd never seen their uncle so upset. Mrs. Beakley, revived, was staring at it too as if she could will Webby back to their universe. Horrible possibilities whipped through their minds. The mirror had broken all the way through, cracks from the bottom up to the top, where it disappeared against the ceiling. How could one kick have done so much damage?
"If I didn't know any better," Scrooge snapped, whirling to glare at the boys. "I'd say you didn't want Webbigail back!"
"We didn't do it on purpose!" Dewey protested. "We were just thinking that we'd stand guard by the mirror all night in case she came through and we got frustrated and I kicked the mirror by accident."
Scrooge scrutinized them in turn and they shrank under his imperious gaze. The last time they'd confronted such an angry version of their uncle, it'd been Magica's mirage. This, however, was no spell. The boys shuffled uncomfortably.
"Can it be fixed?" Mrs. Beakley asked, wringing her hands.
"Oh, aye, it can," he said and then he glowered at the boys again. "But I'll have to ask Magica for a favor. I am not looking forward to that."
Before, they had asked him whether it was worth it to bring Webby back. No one said that now. They hung their heads in shame. Scrooge would have to beg assistance from his mortal enemy and it was their fault. More pieces of the mirror flaked off and they thought they might be sick.
"What if she says 'no'?" Mrs. Beakley asked. The boys were afraid to venture any opinion now.
"I'll have to make an offer she can't refuse," he said and grimaced. "Oh, I wish it hadn't come to this."
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Huey ventured.
"Stop trying to help in the first place!" Scrooge barked and they flinched. He muttered darkly to himself as he stormed out of the room and thudded his cane every few steps to show he meant business. If anything could've made the triplets feel worse, it was knowing they were the reason Scrooge was irate. And if Webby was hurt or worse...their minds kept cycling back to that.
"You three aren't leaving the house," Mrs. Beakley announced, turning an eagle eye on them. It was as if she'd divined that they'd wanted to try to head Scrooge off by going to Mount Vesuvius themselves. "No ifs or buts about it. You're staying where I can see you.
"Oh, I wish Webby had done the same."
"So do we," Louie muttered, gaze downcast. "So do we."
Scrooge had forbidden the boys to accompany him to Mount Vesuvius. While they might have considered tagging along anyway, his towering rage was nothing to trifle with. It was an uncomfortable flight from Duckberg to Magica's hideout with Launchpad attempting to make awkward conversation and Scrooge brooding, staring out the window. Magica probably knew more about that mirror than he did. And any help she offered, assuming she was even willing to do so, would be obtained at a hefty price.
He fingered his lucky dime dangling on a necklace about his neck. All he could think about was poor Webbigail, trapped in that alternate dimension with who knew what happening to her. If he understood anything about the mirror, it was that it transported the user to wherever the other mirror was located. There was no guarantee that the other mirror was in McDuck Manor. It could've been anywhere, like Magica's lair or the moon or trapped in a museum or buried in an archeological dig somewhere.
Beneath his fury, worry lurked. Provided Webbigail hadn't reached a safe place, any one of his enemies would've been glad to get their hands on her and use her against his counterpart. They might have also foregone that and hurt her themselves for some reason or another. Plus, if the mirror had been at a dig, she could've transported into solid rock and suffocated.
He was irate with the boys, make no mistake. However, he knew this wasn't entirely their fault-they hadn't known what would happen. Ignorance was no excuse, but Scrooge admitted he had a soft spot for his grand-nephews. They reminded him of him when he was a wee lad. Well, except for the whole mistreating females part. Where had they gotten that attitude from?
Launchpad landed without crashing, which was nothing short of a miracle. Scrooge managed a curt thank you, bade him to wait, and then, steeling himself, ascended the mountain to reach Magica. Magica was unpleasant at the best of times and knowing that she had Scrooge over a barrel would make her insufferable.
He crept up the steps to her lair and kept his wits about him. A raven squawked overhead; Poe, Magica's brother, must've been standing sentry. He was unsurprised, therefore, after trekking up the stairs, to find Magica waiting for him in her throne room. And make no mistake-it was a throne room, complete with the throne on which she sat, preening herself.
"So, you've come to me," Magica intoned, putting down the mirror and facing her enemy. "I must say that this is a welcome change of pace. What, perchance, do you need my help with?"
"A magic mirror," he said and she raised her eyebrows.
"Oh?" she replied and a cruel smile curved her lips. "And what have you been doing, Scroogie, messing around with magic?"
"It wasn't me, it was was me boys," he said, waving that off. "They sent wee little Webbigail into it and then they broke it by accident, trapping her inside."
Magica raised her eyebrows. "And that is my problem because why? That does not even take into account that your 'wee little Webbigail'-" she sneered-"is not even family."
"I still have the care of her and she is still my responsibility," he retorted. "You're changing the subject."
"And I suppose you want me to fix your mirror, retrieve your wayward brat, and do it all out of the goodness of my heart?" Magica intoned and then laughed in his face. She hopped up from her throne, flounced over to him, and laughed again, this time to ensure he got the message. Scrooge glowered, smacking her with the cane to get her to retreat a step. She countered lazily, waving a hand to create a barrier between them.
"Darling, you know I have no 'goodness' in my heart," she said. "And you and I both know that if you give up your number one dime to me, you will only attempt to wrest it back from me later and leave me bereft. I want something more permanent. Even assuming I help you, which I am having serious doubts about. I think I would rather see you suffer."
"I know you don't care much about me, Magica, but Webbigail's a child. She doesn't deserve this."
"You are wrong," Magica said and then paced around him, so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. Her breasts brushed against his shoulders and he swallowed hard, reminding himself to stay focused on what he'd come here for. She was trying to distract him and curse his kilts, it was working.
"You are wrong if you think I care even the slightest bit about your brats," she said. "And you are badly mistaken if you think I will help you."
"Then what do you want?" he pleaded. She had the upper hand here and they both knew it. He followed her with his eyes as she continued to pace about him. Her black dress brushed against his legs.
Magica's eyes were alight with malice when she stopped before him. "Since you and I both know you would never surrender your number one dime, not permanently...another agreement must be reached, yes? Something perhaps more...mutually satisfying?"
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're going on about," he informed her, but his heart raced and he very much knew exactly what she had in mind. Judging by her smirk, she knew that he knew.
"Call it a date. I will decide the place and the time and I will decide exactly what goes on during it," she said, sounding ominous. Her threats weren't doing much to decrease his interest, sadly. He had a type.
"But you'll repair the mirror?" he asked, desperate to get the conversation back on track.
Magica chortled. "Ah, yes, but I never said when."
Then, waving her hand, she flung him bodily back toward the helicopter where Launchpad was waiting. She was at least gracious enough to let him down onto the ground rather than slam him into the bulkhead. He supposed he ought to be grateful, but he wasn't. Rather, he cursed up a storm, pacing and slamming his cane into the ground for good measure. Launchpad watched warily.
"What happened, Mister McD?" he asked.
"Never let a sorceress see she has the upper hand," Scrooge said and sighed. "If only I knew someone else with magic, then I wouldn't be in this forsaken mess."
While he hadn't chanced another glance at the mirror before departing, he had to assume the worst, that the mirror was damaged beyond normal repair. Poor Webbigail would be trapped in there whenever and if-ever Magica decided to assist. Oh, he was in for it, well and truly.
He wondered if, perhaps, Della would've had better luck. Magica had always seemed to have, if not a soft spot, at least a neutral spot for his missing niece.