Author's Note: The fic is nearing its concluding chapters.
—
PART 10: Feast of the Chest
One of the ghouls made several steps forward, his walk solid for a semi-decomposed corpse.
"Master, we have confiscated this from the prisoners," he said referring to the round object he held with both hands, the crystal ball Vincent had given the gang.
The necromancer descended from his position in mid-air; kneeling down, the undead minion placed the artifact before his feet like an offering before retreating. No words were proclaimed as the undead sorcerer brought his armored boot down on the crystal ball, reducing it to numerous but useless pieces of glass.
"I would like to see how van Ghoul gets an account of the situation without it," the masked face turned to the three prisoners now bound next to the gold-plated wall.
"You two stand guard the captives," he addressed two of his armor-clad minions, receiving bows in reply, "The rest return to your posts and watch out for potential newcomers or the dogs."
With a group bow, the ghoulish servants departed and disappeared in the darkness of the tunnel.
"As for you," he approached his prisoners so close that he stood inches from them, "I will decide what to do with you later," he raised his hand and the scrolls materialized in the gauntleted palm, "I need to get back to my task."
He walked back towards the chamber's hearth, leaving the gang under the empty gaze of the two guards.
The necromancer's statements kept repeating in Shaggy's ears like the contents of an audiocassette. He remembered Vincent's words.
"Like this is it, dark necromantic experiments…" the thought made him gulp.
He did not count the time, incapable for different reasons, as the trio remained the captives. His thoughts constantly returned to the two canines; they were somewhere in the catacombs, pursued by vile undead. We they still on the run? In hiding? Maybe they had already been captured by this time or worse…
Shaggy feared that any moment the terrifying squad would return, the Chest of Demons in their possession…and stained red…
This image felt as gripping as if a noose was tightened around his neck.
"Like, why did we open the chest? I should have thought that moment. My fault, my fault…"
The words of the incantation, leafy and whispery, were flying around the chamber; the only sound that broke the tomb's silence. Then a new sound reached out from the darkness of the tunnel. It sounded like a wail, long and melancholic. Through the specifics of the catacombs it felt as if a hundred ghosts howled simultaneously. Shaggy wondered if it was a sign of the necromancer putting the final stage of the ritual into motion.
The comparison was partially correct. He saw two ghosts fly into the chamber as though they were pulled by dark sorcery...
Carried by wild winds, they smacked against the necromancer who had his back to the entrance, knocking him off his feet. An object, sparkling amidst dark and golden surroundings, jumped from the scene of collision and rolled further into the chamber like an ordinary ball.
"The sages said…"the necromancer started speaking with his catchphrase, "If you bump into a fool, then it is a turn of fate, but if a fool bumps into you—it is a sign from above. What is the meaning of this, you imbeciles?" he said as he got back on his feet.
"Sorry, boss, but it seems the sphere you gave short-circuited after falling from a mountain with us," Bogel, one of the unexpected arrivals, said simplistically.
"What he means to say is…" Weerd showed him aside, "we were on our way here when we saw your servants chasing Scooby Doo and that other dog. We decided to aid them, so we used the power of the sphere again…and it appears to have short-circuited."
"And I must say it's quite a storm," Bogel added.
"I do not know the details of your encounter but I already regret giving you the sphere," The necromancer commented, shaking his head in irritation.
Then two more players entered the scene in a similar manner, with a similar outcome. The ghostly pair fell like dominoes when hit by the smaller shape; their chief was brought down by the other one. Scooby and Scrappy came back.
"Rexcuse me, Rister revil king," Scooby said and, acting as a gentleman, slightly brushed the villain's dark-violet robe with his paw.
"I will make a taxidermy out of you!" the necromancer said, standing up, unimpressed by the gesture.
But some unknown force hinted that it was not a good day for the ancient Tibetan king. Almost immediately, he was hit by another missile and ended up on the floor once more. Several of the ghosts had had opportunities to get their clutches on the Chest, but only this one managed to get it straight in the face.
"The sages said that if the stars send you warnings, stay as close to the ground as possible," Tsaen Gyar whispered, sprawled on the floor.
His gaze turned to the projectile that hit him which now lay on the chamber's floor.
"Grab the chest, you fools!" he ordered his two lackeys.
"On it, chief!" Weerd assured before the duo made a jump for it.
"No you don't!" Scrappy protested as he made his own move.
It was the most awkward mash-up anybody could have seen: two ghosts and small dog were rolling over the floor in a quarrel for the chest. Several swift movements and the trio were back on their feet, each pulling the chest into his own direction as if it was a doll and they had a disagreement on whose turn it was to play.
"Mine!" Weerd declared.
"No, mine!" the dog replied.
"No, the chest is mine!" Bogel said as he tried making a stronger pull.
"Idiot! We're on the same side!" Weerd snapped.
Carefully, bit by bit, the necromancer rose up.
"No rore rorm?" Scooby, who remained nearby wishing neither a repeat of his earlier flight nor getting a hit with anything heavy, asked him naively.
"I believe its time has worn out," the ghost explained.
"Rhat a relief," the dog sighed.
He turned to Scrappy, ready to get to his side.
"Seems like I will have to take another pause," the Great Dane heard the cold voice behind his back.
He turned around to see the necromancer, scroll in hand, rise in the air, his scarlet cloak flapping menacingly.
"The ghosts can only be recaptured by those who set them free," he repeated the familiar foresight. A ghostly flame flared up in his gauntleted palm.
"Do you know what this means?" he asked with a malevolent hint.
"Rayks!" Scooby yelped and bolted towards the exit.
But his nemesis was quicker; the Great Dane found his path blocked by the levitating wraith.
"I do not care if that malfunction had wiped out my guard. I will deal with you without the aid of servants and affiliates," he threw his arm forward.
Scooby jumped aside a flashing moment before a lightning-like bolt hit the ground he stood on.
With another panicking cry, the dog fled into the opposite direction, towards the chamber's farthest corner, followed by the specter.
"You are merely making yourself an easy prey," the necromancer, though on his trail, kept his distance, not taking his adversary's efforts seriously.
The Great Dane was soon cornered; his back against the wall, he shook in fear, facing the necromancer. He avoided another bolt by dashing to the side, the only direction open to him. He did not assess his actions, and guided by alarm alone, aimed at the object that lay beside the nearest sarcophagi.
He picked the sphere up and barked at his opponent in a canine warning. The only result he achieved was mocking laughter.
"What are you intending? Use the sphere's power against me?" the wraith addressed him, "It is damaged! Moreover, you do not even know how it works!" he readied for a final strike.
Scooby's bark was completely replaced by a desperate squeal.
"Rabra Kadabra?" he begged as he rubbed the object.
The work of damaged appliances is unpredictable, magical items no exception. The orb exploded in the dog's paws. The elemental power was freed, and hurled the Great Dane into the air as one of its first acts. His pursuer too found himself captured in the whirlwind. The magical storm was circling them in the air above that part of the tomb.
"Row ro you rop ris ring?" Scooby yelled.
"We bear it until it calms down by its own will," the necromancer explained, mid-flight.
Unlike his uncle, Scrappy Doo did not share a common interest with his adversaries. The chest escaped his grasp, a result of the combined efforts of the two ghosts. He felt angry, he felt annoyed…
"Come on, pooch!" Weerd laughed, "Try harder! We know you can."
The duo was floating in the air ten feet above floor level, the lean ghost holding the chest by the handle. It was like a twisted game. The young Great Dane was supposed to grab hold of the container as if it was a stick or a chewy toy.
He jumped again but such a height was unachievable to him small form.
"Hey, that's not fair!" Scrappy said.
"You're right, it's not," Bogel replied.
"But that's what makes it so fun!" Weerd's remark burst the pair into laughter.
Their fun was interrupted by the unexpected calamity. The wild winds caught them, hurling both towards the epicenter, a fate the two would have probably evaded had they remained on the ground. Taken unaware, Weerd lost his grip on the chest, and the container went on a different way, falling to the ground.
"You fools cannot even keep hold of the Chest! Items of such importance should be held with a tiger's clench!" Tsaen Gyar raged getting tossed in the same whirlwind with them and Scooby, "What sway subdued my common sense and made me join forces with you?"
"At a boy, Uncle Scooby!" Scrappy cheered, his paws now on the chest, "Keep splatting those ghosts until they surrender!"
"Row?" the dog's shout implied that he saw the situation very differently.
Amidst the raging air currents, Scrappy, barely moving on his two, dragged the chest closer to the storm's epicenter. He opened the lid. The aura of the Demon Chest proved stronger than any concurrent sorcery.
There seemed only one direction for the wraith. Managing to grab the ghostly duo, the necromancer somehow hurled the two to the chest's maw, attempting to seal it in a final desperate move. The chest consumed Bogel and Weerd, but that sacrifice was not a pleasing one; it still waited for its lost denizen…the necromancer plunged into the chest's realm.
The lid closed by itself, and for a moment green flames blazed in the bas-relief's empty sockets before going out just as suddenly.
The storm ceased and Scooby fell down, luckily landing on his paws. The two undead guards Tsaen Gyar assigned to watch his captives and remained on duty all that time fell to the ground as lifeless corpses without their master's sway.
The gang made an account of those events when they came to Vincent's castle later that day.
"First of all, I would like to thank you for a job well done," the sorcerer congratulated them, standing up from his chair. They were in one of the castle's sitting rooms.
"And what about the chest?" Scrappy asked, pointing at the chest that lay on the carpet beside them.
"Just leave it with me. I will return it back to the old temple later on," Vincent instructed, "Hopefully, extra precautions will ensure that the chest will not be opened a second time," he gave Shaggy and Scooby a look of a strict teacher, "By the way, what are you holding in your hand?" he asked the young man.
"You mean this?" Shaggy brought his hand forward, "It's the scroll the ghost stole and was using in the ritual. He lost it when he was trying to save himself."
"We can now return it back to the university collection," the redhead added.
"May I have it for a moment?" Vincent asked.
"Sure," Shaggy said as he passed the parchment to the mystic.
The sorcerer walked to the fireplace and dumped the scroll into the flames as if it was used paper to the couple's dismay.
"I told you I only wanted it for a moment," van Ghoul chuckled, "but on a serious note, let it be lost forever to the evil minds that might want to use it."
"Wait, I think we're missing someone," Vincent studied his visitors, "Where did Flim Flam go off to?"
"I'm here, Vince," they heard the boy's voice before he entered through the door, carrying a suitcase, "just went back to the plane to get my stuff."
"Your stuff?" Daphne asked.
"Correct. I transferred it to the plane whilst were readying for the last mission."
"You mean you're leaving?" Scrappy asked.
"Yes. It was great being with you, guys. But now that the ghosts are captured, I believe I should go solo," he explained
Everybody remained stunned, so used they had become to him.
"Yep, I need to resume my business, go to new places, build my client base, and stuff like that!" he spoke as confidently as always.
"But where will you be staying?" Daphne asked.
"Where? Right here!"
"What?" Vincent proclaimed, surprised, "I did not agree to this!"
"I'll stay in your best guestroom, Vince," the kid said.
"Very well," the sorcerer, understanding the uselessness of arguing with the boy, reluctantly agreed, "but don't expect it to be a long stay!"
They all laughed at the scene. In those moments Vincent van Ghoul once again made use of his poetic skills, and came up with his newest four-liner, the panegyric he cited aloud:
"The Thirteen Ghosts did not avoid
Their fated leap into the void.
Their fall concludes the tale too
About the Demon Chest and Scooby Doo."