Chapter Seven:
"This is so cool," said Gosalyn, impaling two more marshmallows onto her already-gooey stick. She held them out over the fireplace to toast. "And we don't even have to tell ghost stories, because this whole house-"
"Enough, Gosalyn," Drake sighed, exasperation showing in his voice. Beside him, Launchpad was keeping his mouth crammed full of marshmallows - typical. Drake didn't want to be here. He'd missed an uncomfortable number of nightly patrols this week already, and with Beth acting the way she was, it didn't seem like he would ever get to go out again. He might just as well marry her, if she was going to be this limiting on his free time.
And then, of course, Gosalyn had found out about it and insisted on coming. He should have anticipated that. Having Launchpad there wasn't so bad; for one thing, he and Beth distracted one another from getting spooked. But having Gosalyn there was another story entirely. Despite his certainty that nothing would happen, he still naturally worried when Gosalyn was in the line of any potential danger - what father wouldn't?
Then there was the fact that Gosalyn was single-handedly distracting Beth and Launchpad enough from each other to keep them from distracting one another. The toasting marshmallows had been her idea; so had the bright idea to gather sleeping bags before the fireplace and "camp out" in the living room. He wouldn't put it past her to cause her own scene, if she didn't get enough of one during the course of the evening...
Drake was thrown off the course of his thoughts when a loud thump came from upstairs. Beth's eyes darted nervously to the staircase immediately, whereas Launchpad had the opposite reaction and almost physically shrank away from the stairs. The foursome kept silent as two more, quieter, thumps sounded; then all was still.
Gosalyn broke the silence first. "Can we go up and see what it was this time?"
"I think we're runnin' low on marshmallows," Launchpad said quickly. "Maybe I oughta make a run to the store and pick up another bag?"
"Relax, LP, we're not going to check it out this time. Probably just another stack of magazines falling," Drake said, watching Beth from the corner of his eye. She was still looking upstairs, and although he couldn't see her face in full, she seemed to be frowning. He sighed. "Or would you rather I take a look, Beth. Again."
Apologetically, she answered, "Well... I mean - that was probably more than one thing hitting the ground, the way it was timed, and I'd just feel better -"
"Fine, say no more," Drake said, with resignation. He stood, and shot his sidekick a look. "No, no, Launchpad... don't get up, I'm perfectly happy to go by myself." Apparently missing the sarcasm, Launchpad sighed with relief.
Gosalyn bounced to her feet. "If it's just magazines, I can go too, right?"
"Why not?" He shrugged apathetically and headed for the stairs.
Beth got up too, and gathered up the empty bowls they'd kept potato chips in. "Sorry, Drake - I'd just sleep easier if..."
"Yeah, yeah, heard it, got the t-shirt." He trailed off into mumbling as he climbed the stairs, Gosalyn at his heels. Beth disappeared into her kitchen, and Launchpad kept his eyes on the fire, so the shadow that skittered across the wall behind Drake and his daughter went unnoticed by everyone.
Launchpad watched the fire flickering and wondered why he was there. Okay, granted, the house would've seemed really empty with DW and Gos gone for the night, but he could've handled that. Instead, here he was spending the night in what could be a haunted house.
Aw, quit thinkin' like that! he told himself firmly - or at least, as firmly as he could manage. This was Beth's house, a house he'd been in practically a million times, and nobody else was worried. Well, not worried about ghosts, anyway.
He heard Beth come back out from the kitchen; her steps circled the living room, then stopped just behind him. "Y'know, the fire was a good idea," he said, picking up the poker and stoking it idly. "Nice an' warm. And I gotta say, the marshmallows were a pretty good idea, too." He chuckled and trailed off. Beth made no answer; she hadn't even moved since before he'd spoken. The silence dragged on, and Launchpad felt the feathers on the back of his neck ruffle uncomfortably. He shivered. "Beth...?" he asked, turning slowly.
Nothing. No one behind him, or anywhere else... Just an empty room.
He swallowed. His mouth was dry.
The kitchen door swung open, and Beth came out with two mugs of hot chocolate. "I thought we could use up the last of the marshmallows with cocoa," she said lightly, and handed him one. "Drake and Gos aren't back down yet? Gee, I hope their cocoa doesn't get cold... You okay?"
Launchpad forced himself to nod and take a sip of the cocoa. "Fine," he croaked after swallowing.
"Okay..." Beth didn't look convinced, but she put the other mug down on her coffee table and started back for the kitchen. "I guess I'll get the other two -"
"Wait," Launchpad said, so quickly that he surprised them both. "Uh - don't go just yet, okay? I mean... uh... ya might as well wait for DW and Gos to come back down before ya get 'em drinks, right?"
She gave him a look for a moment - he might have been imagining the questioning expression in it - then shrugged, picked up her mug again, then made herself comfortable next to him. "Guess so." They drank in quiet for a moment or two, then she broke the silence first. "Launchpad?"
He expected to be asked if he was sure he was okay, or if something had happened, and he wasn't sure what he'd answer if she did. Instead, she leaned her head against his arm, sighed, and said, "I'm glad you're here."
Oh, yeah... this was why he was there. Ghosts lost prominence in his mind for the time being, and after a moment's hesitation, he put his arm around her shoulders and smiled as she snuggled against him.
They both jumped when Drake and Gosalyn came back downstairs. "Well, nothing up there, not even anything that fell over. We took a little time to see if there were any holes in the walls or anything - there's got to be some place that the cold is getting in to that room."
"You didn't find anything, did you," Beth said, pulling away from Launchpad in a self-conscious movement. Drake shook his head. "I wonder what it is-" She broke off in a gasp as the lights suddenly went out. The room was lit only by the fire as it jumped about in the fireplace.
Launchpad blinked a few times, and Gosalyn cheered. "Cool! Mood lighting!"
"Probably blew a fuse," Drake said, looking around the room, although it was unlikely he could actually see much of anything in the darkness. "Is the fusebox in the basement?"
"Well, yes, but..." Beth's silhouette in front of the fire was sitting rather stiffly now; she was agitated. Stuttering lightly, she said, "You - you might as well leave it, you know, u-until tomorrow morning - I mean - we have the fire and all..."
Drake agreed to this surprisingly quickly. Launchpad was relieved - even though he was sure they were right, and it probably was just a blown fuse, he knew enough about slasher movies to know that it was when the group started splitting up that bad stuff started happening. He was equally glad when Gos went with Beth into the kitchen to get the other two mugs of hot cocoa, and he noticed that when they came back Beth looked even more nervous. If she'd seen or heard anything in the kitchen, however, she didn't tell anyone, and he was glad of that, as well.
They agreed that it was probably best to just go to sleep, since without electricity there was little else that they could do. When conversation died down, Launchpad could hear constant sounds of what seemed to be muffled movement coming from upstairs. He shot a look at Beth, who was settled to the right of him, and found that she looked as though she was trying just as hard as he was to ignore the noises. He shut his eyes, told himself that she probably had a mouse problem, and made himself go to sleep.
He didn't know how much time had passed when he woke up again. In fact, for a few panicky moments he didn't know where he was. He shot up in the sleeping bag and looked around blindly. Calm came gradually, after a few seconds' thought. Right - Beth's house. His head was warm because he was sleeping right by the fire, which was still going comfortably. There were the others: Beth, DW, and Gos, all in a row, all asleep.
Dim memories of a dream he couldn't quite recall kept him on edge. Something about a blonde woman, crying, somewhere in the house... Only it hadn't been this house, had it? It couldn't have... He remembered running around strangely-shaped hallways that he'd never seen before.
But it had felt like Beth's house. Launchpad shivered, and lay down in the sleeping bag again with the intent of forgetting all about this until morning. Unfortunately, he very quickly realized what had woken him up. He should've known drinking all that Coo-Coo Cola was a bad idea! Just because it had been de-caff didn't make it okay. Maybe he could ignore it...
He squirmed for about five minutes, then sighed. Well, if it had to be done, it had to be done... He listened carefully for a few moments, satisfying himself that the house was indeed quiet. Nothin' to worry about. Sure... He swallowed and sat up, shooting another look at the others as he did. He couldn't see Gos's face from where he was, but Beth's face was pinched, and DW was gritting his teeth and frowning. Looked like they were having nightmares, too. He got up and made his way through the darkness to the bathroom upstairs.
Darkwing knew danger when he was in it. He was surrounded by it, and he didn't like it, and he was Darkwing Duck so he would stop it.
He turned, and the woman was still there. It was maddening; every corner he turned, every direction he ran in, there she was. White robe, blonde hair, a face he couldn't see, lined with sorrow and dust, heavy with years even though he could tell her features were those of a younger woman.
Another turn, and she was there, holding her arm out to him, her face a blank slate with eyes. That look in her eyes...
Leave, Drake. Get out.
Ha! No one told Darkwing Duck what to do. Even if they did know his secret identity, still, that wouldn't change things.
Leave, before it's too late. Time is passing.
Darkwing pulled out his gas gun, suck gas, evil - er, being, and pulled the trigger, but it did nothing. His hand, he could see through his hand, and the gas gun dropped through his fingers as though they were mist, and he stared as he disappeared, watching his body fade into nothing -
And for a ghastly moment he felt it, the horrid lacking of not being - seeing but never seen, never felt, feeling and thinking but formless can't even move there's nothing to move -
Drake sat up violently, stifling a gasp.
Quiet. It was quiet. And - he put his hand to his chest, then head - he was solid, thank heaven. He lay back down to catch his breath and noticed in the murky light that he could see his breath. He looked back over his shoulder - the fire was going out. "Oh, great," he muttered, and tried to see if he could find the poker in the fading light.
"Drake?"
The whisper sounded so like the woman in his nightmare that he yelped. "Beth!" he said in a loud whisper, trying to cover. "Thanks for the heart attack!"
She propped herself up on an elbow. "It got cold like this last night, too," she said quietly.
"What time is it?"
"Two," she answered. "The clock just struck, right before you sat up."
"I thought the power was -" He stopped mid-sentence, because Beth held up a finger and looked up towards the second-floor balcony. "What?"
Her whisper was much softer than it had been. It took him a moment to figure out what she said. "There's a light up there."
He saw it too, as the fire dimmed entirely. A dull glow from somewhere near the end of the hallway, its origin obscured by the wall that picked up after the balcony ended - dull, but still enough to cast a shadow. "The - the power must have come back on," he said, whispering without realizing it.
"Listen," she breathed, and her breath hung in the dark room like a wraith before drifting away. Noises again - and... Were those voices? They both strained to hear as the first few murmurs from upstairs grew louder, and they were able to distinguish two voices - a man's and a woman's.
Drake glanced at Gosalyn. In the dark, he couldn't see her face, but she was lying perfectly still... Hopefully that meant she was still asleep, and with any luck she would stay that way. Leaning towards Beth, he asked, "Can you make out what they're saying?"
She shook her head. "Just sounds. It - I think they're... she's chanting." She gasped loudly a split-second later when the man's voice gave a yell, making Drake jump. "Oh god!" she whimpered. He reached for her hand, and she took it, squeezing it gratefully.
Thudding footsteps along the hallway preceded Drake's quick view of a dark something, running upstairs. He blinked, and it was gone. "What-"
"What was that?!" Beth whispered hoarsely. She groped for her glasses with her other hand, and fumbled to put them on without letting go of Drake. He was staring at the balcony still, and with some effort Beth forced herself to look up at the landing.
There was a shape there. And it was moving.
Drake winced as Beth grasped his hand more tightly than ever - it felt like she was breaking his fingers - but he found he couldn't blame her. It was a woman, and he knew her. It was the woman from his dream. She flew down the stairs, gliding, her long hair and white robes streaming behind her. They seemed to possess a life of their own, lighter than air, ethereally drifting and curling about her form no matter which way she moved. She was running, he could tell, but it was like looking at a woman moving under a strobe light - pieces of her motion seemed missing. Her speed was normal, but her movements were slowed down, like she -
Like she's not really here, he thought, and shivered. Beth squeezed his hand again in response.
As she glided down the stairs, her entire presence suggesting panic despite her smooth movements, she screamed again. It built from nothing, as though far away, and ended in an almost violent burst. "RICHIE!!"
Richie? Drake had time to think.
She screamed again. "RICHIE IF YOU'RE HERE YOU BETTER DO SOMETHIIIIING!"
"Oh god, oh no," Beth sobbed, barely audible. Drake tried to swallow and couldn't, as the ghost flowed from the staircase to the front door. Oddly, he could hear her breathing. This has to be a trick, he thought. She's a ghost, they don't breathe, they're dead. But when she passed him, for a split second he saw the detail of the embroidery on her robes, the colour of her eyes; and he heard the ragged way she drew in breath, more clearly than he could have any living being. She ran to the kitchen, preternaturally graceful, and held her arms out to push the door open before disappearing through the wood.
It was strangely quiet. He turned to Beth, who stared back at him, her glasses slightly misted by her breath. "Is... is it over?"
She shook her head, her eyes wide and terrified. "No."
A shriek erupted from the kitchen, with the same kind of odd, reverse-faded sound to it as before. "I CAST YOU OUT!" She reappeared through the same door, and floated across the living room. She was sobbing, he noticed now. "Oh, this can't be happening... This can't be HAPPENING!" No wonder she'd seemed so sad in his dream, if these were the final moments of her life.
He blinked, and she was back at the front door again, reaching for it. And the door retreated, shrinking away from her. Drake's heart threatened to stop at that sight - ghosts were one thing, ghosts could be fake, ghosts were like a movie - but the sight of Beth's front door stretching, actually twisting itself away, made it all real. She suddenly flew at the door, in her slow-regular motion, and for a moment he thought she'd just pass through that as well - but she didn't. She grasped the doorknob, actually turned it, then let go.
"No," the ghost sobbed in a miserable whisper, "No, no, no, no!" Drained now, she floated to the centre of the room - just in front of them.
Her unreal, re-enacted breathing caught as she locked eyes with the two people witnessing her death.
She looked as startled as they did. Beth moaned and grabbed Drake's arm, pinching it. He winced again as the ghost screamed, "DEMON BEGONE! I cast you OUT!"
"Demon?" he said softly. If she could hear, she showed no sign. Instead she moaned in much the same tone Beth had used, gaining strength until it became a wail. Then, her hair and robes still writhing about her, she faded from view. Her final sob hung in the air after she had gone.
Beth and Drake sat in silence, still gripping each other, until a rushing of air behind them made them jump. The fire had re-ignited itself.
"She saw us," Beth said hoarsely.
Drake nodded and let out a shaky breath. "If that's what happened to you last night, Beth, then I take back every bad thing I said about you since then."
"It... it wasn't that bad. It's getting stronger."
Gosalyn sat up suddenly, and they both screamed. "That was so COOL!" she proclaimed, ignoring them both. "A real live ghost just two houses down from me! I bet you could charge admission -"
"Gosalyn." Drake caught her bill between his thumb and forefinger. "Not. Now."
Beth gasped again, and Drake jumped a third time. He was turning to her to either calm her down or shake her until she stopped doing that, when she said, "Drake, Launchpad's gone. Did he say where he was going? Did you see him? Where is he??"
"He's gone?" He let go of Gosalyn's bill, and they both stared dumbly at Launchpad's empty sleeping bag.
Then came the scream.
A man's scream this time, and from upstairs. Beth yelled, "NO!!" and leapt to her feet, nearly tripping before she entangled her legs from her sleeping bag, and bolted up the staircase. "LAUNCHPAD!" Drake and Gosalyn followed her, but she was already at the top step by the time they reached the bottom. Still yelling his name, she ran straight into him as he came scrambling out of the bathroom towards the stairs. Drake caught up with Beth just in time to be flattened by them both as they fell over.
"What happened? Are you okay? Did they try to eat your skin??" Gosalyn asked excitedly when she reached them.
All Beth's attention was on Launchpad, however, and he barely seemed to have heard her. After taking a moment to shake off his disorientation, he seemed to remember where he was, and instantly began trying to run for it again. This resulted in quite a commotion, since Beth was trying to pull herself and Launchpad to their feet, and Drake was pinned beneath them both. After a number of elbows to the ribs and an accidental smack to his bill, he was able to pull himself away from them. Launchpad still looked panicked.
"It's okay, it's okay!" Beth was saying, holding him by his shoulders and trying to project an air of calm. She had a feeling she wasn't very good at it, but he seemed to desperately need it. "You're okay! There's nothing there, you're fine, it's over and she's gone... Launchpad, it's okay!"
Finally gaining some semblance of coherence, Launchpad shook his head. "No, no, in there! The bathroom - the mirror!"
Beth had heard somewhere that the best way to get someone to slow down and think about what they were saying was to repeat back to them what they had just said. She wasn't so sure of that, but it was the only thing she could think of. "The mirror?"
"The mirror - I saw..."
She and Drake exchanged looks. Everyone had gone quiet, and Beth said gently, "You saw what?"
"A face! An' I don't mean my face, I mean, there was a face behind me - a guy's face..." He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered, and Beth put her arms around his shoulders and held him.
She was murmuring to him again that it was fine, nothing was there now, and Drake wasn't completely convinced that Launchpad wasn't perhaps playing it up just a bit for the attention. Regardless, Drake asked, "You didn't see the woman? Or hear her?"
"Just a face," Launchpad said, his face pressed against Beth's shoulder as closely as he could manage.
Drake snorted. "It was probably just the light."
"It was not!" Gosalyn and Beth said in unison.
Gosalyn continued, "You know it wasn't, Dad! You saw the same thing we did!" Beth nodded fiercely, and Launchpad shuddered again.
All four of them jumped when the door to the sewing room slammed shut.
After a moment, Drake said angrily, "Okay, that's it. This has gone on long enough." He stalked to the door and reached for the doorknob.
"Dad...!" Gosalyn gasped, and at the same time Beth said quietly, "Please don't, Drake."
He hesitated. "Whatever's in there, it's not going to hide anymore. I'm calling it out, now." They just stared back at him. He cleared his throat and began to turn the knob.
Something made him stop, however, a second later. A humming sound had begun from the other side of the door. He listened carefully, and realized it was some kind of chanting - a deep, masculine voice reciting something in a language he didn't recognize. More light spilled out faintly from underneath the door.
"On second thought," he said quietly, "maybe we should all get a good night's sleep and see what this looks like in the morning."
No one, not even Gosalyn, argued.