After Lena had been sent "home" (though living in the theatre didn't seem like much of a home to her), Webby was left to her own devices in her room. This time, however, the ghost butler was sent to keep an eye on her. She thought it was ridiculous. Obviously, she wasn't going to pull the same stunt twice. What wasn't ridiculous, however, was that her phone was vibrating again and she didn't recognize the number.

Curious, wondering who else had Agent 22's number, she answered.

"Hello?" she said. She had no experience with phone calls. After all, if anyone had allowed her near a phone in FOWL HQ, she might've reported Steelbeak and escaped confinement. Mrs. Beakley giving her a phone represented great trust that Webby didn't think she'd earned, but she wasn't going to quibble about it. She hoped the walls were thick here, though, in case this was someone the boys might overhear. Or that damn ghost butler, who was even now tidying up her room and muttering about her grandmother's lack of cleaning skills.

"I'm surprised you answered," Steelbeak said smugly and Webby's heart skipped a beat.

"Dad?" she said.

"Webby?" It took her father a second to realize what was going on and once he had, he chuckled. "Oh ho ho. Yet again, Agent 22 makes a fatal mistake."

Shit. Duckworth was staring at her. By now, he had to have been apprised of the situation. What was worse and what she found more ominous was that he'd vanished through her wall. She cringed, already anticipating this to blow up. Whatever he had to say to her, he'd better keep it short and to the point. She had a feeling her grandmother was en route.

"I'm so glad it's you and not Agent 22," Steelbeak told her. "Listen. I know you can get me out of this joint. Just call these people-I'll text you the numbers-and they'll spring me. Capeesh? They can pick you up too. You don't belong in Duckburg. You belong with FOWL. We're your family. Not Agent 22."

He scoffed. "Besides, why would Scrooge McDuck want a murderer under his roof?"

Webby's heart thudded. She'd somehow managed to forget all about Black Heron until he'd brought it up. It was too late to back out of it. The phone vibrated in her hand. She didn't know you could text and talk on the phone at the same time, but there was a lot about technology she didn't know, not having had access to it for the last six years.

"Webbigail Vanderquack!" Mrs. Beakley snapped and then yanked on the doorknob, which Webby had locked. "Unlock this door this instant!"

"Hide the phone," Steelbeak suggested. "Memorize the numbers. Call them later. Trust me-it's better this way."

Webby made a quick decision-which would be worse? Leave her grandmother outside the locked door? Or hang up on her father unceremoniously? Oh, well, Steelbeak would understand. She hit 'end call', darted to the door, and unlocked it. Her grandmother, before she had a chance to stow the phone in her pocket, yanked it out of her hands.

"I turn my back on you for an hour and this is what happens?" Mrs. Beakley snapped. "You know better than to speak to him."

It felt like different retorts vied for prominence and she couldn't speak; she was too frustrated. Balling her fists, she glowered at the phone in her grandmother's hands. True, she had the right to it-it was her phone, after all. But Webby resented that trust given could be retracted so easily. It reminded her of living in FOWL HQ, although, to be fair, she didn't have anything else to compare it to.

Her grandmother's anger ebbed away and she reached out to place a hand on Webby's shoulder. Webby turned so it didn't connect.

"I'm going to give you another phone," she told her. "I don't want you to walk around without a cell phone, but I also don't want you calling him back. Or anyone else that he might be associated with. I know this is hard. I know you feel like we've ripped you away from everything you know and I'm sorry."

She balled her fists too, looking like she wanted to reach out to her again but fearing rejection.

"Please trust us that this is the best thing for you," Mrs. Beakley said.

Webby faltered. She wanted to believe it, but she couldn't. After being lied to and manipulated for years, how was she supposed to know who to trust? The boys seemed like they could be trusted; they looked and acted like innocents unless that was a front too. But Lena...she didn't really know anyone here, did she? She could barely remember Agent 22 from before she was kidnapped and what she did remember was fragmented.

Mrs. Beakley sighed. "Please, Webby. I love you."

The words meant nothing to her. Or they should have meant nothing to her. After all, Steelbeak had never said them. Yet her stomach twisted and she dropped her gaze. She didn't know how to respond to that. Normal people said it back, right? But if she said it back, then she'd be lying because she didn't feel it. How could she know that her grandmother actually loved her or was only saying that to manipulate her the way Steelbeak did?

"You don't believe me."

Mrs. Beakley sounded crushed and against her better judgment, Webby looked up. Her grandmother's stern visage cracked and she shook her head, stepping back.

"I thought before that we'd made a connection…"

To be honest, Webby had thought so too, but she felt better off keeping her at arm's length. She was also oddly guilty, as if she shouldn't be isolating herself from her. It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize, but she hadn't done anything wrong, had she? If she hadn't, then why was Mrs. Beakley looking at her like that?

How could she explain herself in a way that she'd understand?

"Did Steelbeak ever tell you that?" she said and then scoffed. "Of course not. The only person Steelbeak loves is himself."

Webby shook her head but didn't specify which of her grandmother's theories she was rejecting. They stood there awkwardly and the phone vibrated again. Mrs. Beakley scanned the screen-it said what it had before-private caller. This time, she answered it and hit speakerphone. Webby eyed her carefully, wondering what she was up to.

"I'm guessing you got busted," Steelbeak said.

"What part of 'don't contact my granddaughter again' don't you comprehend?" Mrs. Beakley snapped.

"Webby," Steelbeak said, either ignoring Mrs. Beakley or acting like he didn't hear her. "You don't belong there. You know you don't. You're better off with someone who can train you and mold you into what you were always meant to be. A cold-blooded killer."

Webby shuddered. Logic argued that she had always been headed down that road. However, she had never wanted to kill anyone, especially not pre-meditated. Did it make her a terrible person that she was glad Black Heron was gone, even if it was a small part of her? That was glad Black Heron would never be looming nearby to hurt her?

Her grandmother hadn't risen to Steelbeak's taunt and she wondered why. She seemed to be waiting for Webby to respond. The problem was that Webby didn't know where to start. Everything the others had said swirled about in her mind until, unable to help herself, she blurted something out.

"Is that what you are? Is that why you killed my mom?" she said. "Why did you want me anyway? Gosalyn said you don't like kids. You never really acted like a father. Granny said that the only person you love is yourself."

"Poisoning you against me, eh?"

"Hardly," Mrs. Beakley interjected. "You did that all on your own. You never cherished her. You treat her like a prize to be won. You saw her mother the same way."

Webby clenched and unclenched her fists. Steelbeak had avoided the question. That meant whatever she'd said had credence. After all, if he hadn't agreed, he would have refuted it. Was this why her grandmother had put him on speakerphone?

"And she's right, the little brat. I don't like kids. But you're not a kid, Webby. You're so much more. You're a tool, a weapon against SHUSH. You don't even know what you're capable of."

In the back of her mind, she knew that this wasn't right, that a person who loved their offspring wouldn't see them as a weapon to be wielded. Or an extension of themselves. She knew Steelbeak was a narcissist from the psychology book she'd swiped from the library. He hadn't denied it when she'd brought it up. Rather, he'd seemed proud she'd taken the initiative and looked for information on her own. Or had that been misplaced pride in himself?

"Love is a way to manipulate people. It makes you weak and vulnerable. You don't need that in your life."

She shivered again. "Is that why you never hugged me? You barely touch me."

"You don't need to be babied. You're not a little kid."

Mrs. Beakley's gaze was intent upon her. She didn't want to be the one who hung up on Steelbeak. Rather, she wanted Webby to come to the decision on her own. Webby thought of the other conversations she'd had with him-they had revolved around himself. Now that he was trying to manipulate her, he talked about her, but otherwise, it was all about him. His needs. His desires. His goals.

Fingers trembling, she hit 'end call', if only to stop the doubt that was creeping in. She glanced up at Mrs. Beakley, whose beak was pursed.

"Love is not a weakness," Mrs. Beakley said softly. "Any more than being vulnerable is something to be ashamed of. You are not meant to be a cold-blooded killer and we both know that. You are a good person at heart. A psychopath like Steelbeak wouldn't be struggling like this. He'd have rejected what I told you and then replaced my logic with his own, as you can see."

She smoothed Webby's hair back from her face. "I love you. Steelbeak doesn't. I have been waiting for six years to see you again. I value you as a person, not a tool. You are not a tool to be whipped out in someone's arsenal, Webby."

"I…" She didn't know what to say or how to follow that up. Her throat was tight.

"I will have Gyro track down where this phone call came from and then I will give you another phone," Mrs. Beakley promised. "In the meanwhile, perhaps you ought to talk to the boys. You should get to know them. You were obsessed with them when you were five, even if you don't remember."

Obsessed with everything clan McDuck.

"Okay," she agreed, head down as she plodded toward the den where she thought she'd heard the boys earlier. Her self-esteem was not great thanks to Steelbeak and Black Heron needling her. As she approached the doorway, she heard the boys arguing. Curious, she crept closer.

"You can't do that," Huey objected. "It specifically says in the rulebook that you can't leave the house, Louie."

"Maybe I'm the traitor and by leaving the house, I'm letting you get out alive. You don't know," Louie said.

"We haven't even gotten to the haunting yet. You can't possibly know if you're the traitor," Huey retorted.

"How am I still stuck in the Mystic Elevator?" Dewey asked of no one in particular.

"What are you guys doing?" she asked, creeping into the room. The boys stopped arguing to look at her.

"We're playing Betrayal on House on the Hill," Huey explained, shooting Louie another dirty look. "Wanna play? We've got room for one more. And I can explain the rules again, since Louie here clearly needs a refresher."

It appeared to be a board game and she scanned the board and its pieces.

She sat beside Dewey. "How do you play?"

Dewey smiled at her and an odd warmth filled her chest. There were so many things she wasn't used to. As Huey explained the game, she memorized the rules and wondered if maybe she could be happy here. Or...was she destined to be like Steelbeak had said? How was she to know?


"If you'd kept him on the line, it'd be easier to trace him," Gyro said, waspish. As this was his usual attitude, Mrs. Beakley and Scrooge chose to ignore it.

"Now we have to wait and see if he calls back," Gyro continued.

As if on cue, the phone rang again and Gyro smiled. "Perfect. We just need to keep him talking for at least thirty seconds, then we'll have the number."

He hit 'accept'.

"You're trying to keep her from me," Steelbeak snapped at Mrs. Beakley. "It won't work. You won't turn her against me."

Gyro clamped his beak down on a retort, for which Mrs. Beakley was grateful. She didn't need him responding to Steelbeak's barbs. That might be enough to convince him to hang up and not call back.

"You'd be surprised," Mrs. Beakley said. "The child is touch starved."

"Hey, I didn't get hugged and treated like a baby all my life and I turned out just fine."

"That is a matter of opinion."

"Let me guess-you won't let me speak to her again?"

"I should never have let her speak with you in the first place. You are planting seeds of doubt in her mind and manipulating her to your own ends, as usual."

"But, hey, I bet she thinks you're the one doing that," Steelbeak said, smug, and Mrs. Beakley wished she'd hit him harder. There was nothing she could do if Webby had memorized the numbers Steelbeak had sent, but she had to trust the boys would keep Webby occupied long enough for her to speak with her about it. And maybe the boys would be able to convince Webby in a different way than Mrs. Beakley. They were almost her age, after all.

"You've been gaslighting her for her whole life."

"What works, works," Steelbeak said. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chew the fat with you, but I've got people to do and places to be. I'll be in touch."

The phone went dead and Gyro looked, if anything, smugger than Steelbeak had sounded.

"That was more than enough time," he informed them. "I know exactly what the number is. Someone smuggled in a phone into the jail, but by tracing the SIM card and finding where it'd been activated...I can find his accomplice."

"Good work, Gyro," Scrooge said. "Keep us apprised."

"Can do, Mr. McDuck," Gyro said. He frowned at Mrs. Beakley. "Hey. I'm the last person to tell you anything to do with kids, but...if she's doubting what Steelbeak told her after six years, then maybe there's hope after all."

He shrugged. "But I don't know kids."

Mrs. Beakley nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

She wished she knew how to root out Steelbeak's influence once and for all. But she had the sense this was going to take a long time, regardless of what Gyro had said. Steelbeak had sunk his claws deep into Webby's psyche. One day in Duckburg was not enough to reverse the damage.

This was going to be quite frustrating.

On the ride home, she and Scrooge were silent. Launchpad chattered, filling the silence, and she ignored him. When they exited at the front door, she pulled it open to hear the sound of children laughing. Perplexed but also encouraged, she stepped toward the den, where she found the boys and Webby playing a board game. Scrooge was right behind her.

"How exactly did a giant dragon swoop down and lift the house off its foundations? And wouldn't that mean that you literally can't survive this? I mean, the fall would kill you either way," Webby pointed out.

"It's a board game. It doesn't have to make sense," Louie said with a shrug. He eyed the group.

"And you were wrong. You weren't the traitor," Huey told him. "In this scenario, there is no traitor."

"Unless you count gravity," Webby said.

Scrooge smiled and they walked away from the room. This was encouraging. She hadn't looked up to notice that they were there and she had been sitting close to Dewey, closer than someone who was afraid of touch would normally sit. She'd also sounded happy and Mrs. Beakley smiled.

"Don't give up, Beakley," Scrooge said and squeezed her shoulder. "We'll get there eventually."