Chapter Nine:
At nearly eleven o'clock that night, the House on Avian Way was deserted. Its sole living inhabitant had packed her overnight bag much earlier and was settled in on the couch in front of the television in the Mallard house.
Despite its emptiness, however, the house wasn't still.
The lights had started just after sundown - now in one room, now the next, as though someone were running through the halls and testing the lightswitches. Neighbours, passing by the house as they walked their dogs or took an evening jog, stared as the living room, kitchen, and bedroom lights all went on at once and then flicked out again.
There was no one left out on the street by the time the noises started. Doors slammed, footsteps ran up and down stairs, objects fell and shattered. And all night, again and again, shadows ran down the hall upstairs, to the sewing room at the end of the hall, flung the door open, and slammed it shut.
No footsteps exited it.
From her bedroom window, Gosalyn strained to see past the interrupting form of the Muddlefoot's house. She could see lights, sometimes bright and strong, sometimes flickering like a candle; but if there was anything to be seen in the windows of Beth's house, it was hidden from her view. She gave up after about a half hour - though she continued to sneak looks every once in a while just in case her neighbours' house had mysteriously shifted a few feet - and settled into bed by midnight with the window open a crack just in case any screams floated out of the newly-active ghost house.
Downstairs, Beth remained blissfully unaware of the activity just down the street, and did her best to keep it that way. The TV was turned up louder than it needed to be, and she had made sure that she'd be keeping her back to her house the entire night - even two houses down and through several walls, she felt best if she wasn't even facing its direction. It was just a personal thing.
Drake had managed to get out and go on patrol for the first time in several days, and of course had taken Launchpad with him - not that Launchpad had been reluctant to go, of course, but Beth had been somewhat reluctant to let him leave. She was a bit worried about him. Launchpad could get himself so worked up over things, and he really was bothered by the idea of ghosts. Not to mention that, after the past three or four days, she was used to him being around and by this time she felt his absence like a hole.
Regardless, she did have to admit that it was the perfect time for Darkwing to go back out patrolling. She had been more or less single-handedly responsible for keeping him away from his job for the past couple of nights, and the fact that she was already staying over at his house that night meant not only that she was safe from harm, but that she could watch over Gosalyn, too. It was just like the old days, she thought, and chuckled to herself as she leaned her head against the arm of the couch. Good times.
When she slept, she dreamed nice dreams. Quiet dreams. The sort of dreams she liked - soft, happy, silly times with her friends. But there was always a blonde woman in the corner, watching her, with eyes full of sadness.
Beth woke up in the guest bedroom, just a little while after eight the next morning. She didn't remember what time she'd gone up, or if she had been led or even carried. But she'd slept comfortably with the blankets up to her chin, and her glasses had been set carefully on the table next to the bed.
It was October 31st.
"Check."
Drake stared at the chessboard for a number of seconds, then looked back up at Beth, then back down at the board. Narrowing his eyes, he moved his king one space over.
Beth moved another piece. "Check."
Another few seconds passed as Drake glared at the chess pieces again, scowling slightly. His routine from before was repeated, only this time as he raised a hand to move his king yet again, he suddenly stopped. "I can't take this anymore! Darkwing Duck wasn't made for waiting, he was made for action! Is anyone else feeling ready to chew a hole through the wall?!"
Launchpad looked up from the card house that he had been working on for the last forty minutes. "I dunno, I'm kinda enjoyin' this." The card house, for all the time that had been spent on it, was still tiny; Launchpad didn't seem to be able to get many cards into it before it toppled over.
For her part, Beth said, "Does this mean we're not finishing the game?"
"It was a dull game anyway," Drake said quickly, and swept the pieces off the game board and back into their box. Beth sighed, and Drake continued, "If the two of you are too lily-livered to work on this case, I guess I'm on my own..."
"I don't know," Beth said, standing up from her seat on the couch. "I actually was thinking of going over and seeing if I could find anything else out before Morgana comes by... So I guess we might as well, huh?"
Drake's eyebrows went up. "What?"
Launchpad's card house fell down, and he fumbled to pick up the cards as he looked at her, wide-eyed. "But, but didn't Morgana say we had to wait for her?"
"Well, I'm not going to try any spells or anything," Beth said reasonably. "I thought I'd just look around. What did you have in mind, Drake?"
"Uh..." Drake, still looking surprised, cast his glance at the floor as he got to his feet as well. "W-well, I was thinking I'd call Morgana and see how she was doing, and then just help her with the research..."
"Oh." Beth looked over her shoulder at Launchpad, who was stacking his cards with great concentration. For lack of anything else to say, she added, "Okay."
"Besides," Drake went on with a chuckle, "you know Gos would kill us if we went over there without her. Heh, it was hard enough to get her off to school this morning, with all of this going on."
Beth nodded. "Right..."
She was off on another train of thought, Drake could see. She was back in her state of only halfway paying attention to the conversation, and to his surprise, the thought of what she was probably planning didn't sit right with him at all.
"You're not really goin' back over there, are ya?" Launchpad asked, surprising Drake by reaching the same conclusion he had himself.
Beth frowned and looked towards the door. "Just for a while."
"I don't think ya should," Launchpad said plaintively, rising from his chair. He looked to Drake for help.
Drake checked the clock. It was about 2 pm; Gosalyn would be getting home from school soon, and then the plan was for her to do her Trick-or-Treating early before it got too dark, and then by 7 pm they would all meet up with Morgana and head over to Beth's place. That was still hours away, and there just wasn't enough to do in the meantime. "Hey, it's your house," he said uncertainly. Launchpad looked unhappy, but Beth smiled gratefully.
"I'll be back soon," she promised.
With a nod, Drake turned away. "Let us know what you find out."
"Of course!" Beth waved at Launchpad and left.
Drake turned to see Launchpad looking at him reproachfully. "I don't think that was a good idea, DW."
"Relax, LP. She wanted to go. You and I both know that when it comes to the spooky stuff, you're not exactly Mister Level-headed. I think you're overreacting here. What could happen to her in the hour that she'll be out?"
Beth stepped into her house slowly. The lights were all off, and somehow the sunlight streaming in through the windows seemed weak. Well, it was kind of overcast outside. She pushed the door open a bit wider, and felt resistance. Looking down, she saw the hallway rug was bunched up between the door and the small end table. She shut the door and straightened the rug, then looked around.
"Stella?" Her voice sounded weak and hollow in the empty house. She couldn't help feeling silly; part of her still held a belief that she was falling for someone's ridiculous prank, and that any moment now a neighbour or family member was going to jump out with a video camera and crow, "Gotcha!"
But it was true, wasn't it? Unless everyone in town was in on it, Morgana included. She tried again. "Stella...? It's - it's me..."
A whisper in return. She heard it distantly, almost like a rustle rather than a voice. She strained to listen, and became confident that a woman was whispering somewhere. "Stella, I'm here. I want to talk to you." She fell silent and tried to stop breathing, listening for the answer.
It came from the kitchen: another whisper, louder than before. Maybe her voice and questions were giving Stella strength to reply. She strode into the kitchen and stopped, listening carefully. Nothing. *Had* she imagined...?
A breath, just behind her - definitely the sound of someone exhaling. Despite her confidence that Stella was the one who needed help, not her, Beth gasped and spun around.
Nothing.
She shivered and pulled herself together. Of course it was going to be spooky - she wasn't dealing with the living, here. Morgana treated it like it was no big deal, because ghosts were a part of her everyday existence; Morgana was a part of Drake's everyday existence, and Drake was a part of Beth's. Six degrees of separation, or something.
The whisper came again, from outside of the kitchen. She stepped back into her living room, letting the kitchen door swing behind her, and heard it again immediately. The words brushed by her, and she thought she felt her hair blow a teensy bit in an unfelt breeze. Then, right in her ear: Beth.
She shuddered. "Yes! I- I'm here, talk to me! How can I help?"
Perhaps in answer, the door to the basement unlatched and swung slightly open. Beth sighed. Was there some reason this ghost couldn't just stay in one place? Mildly irritated, she opened the basement door, flicked on the lightswitch, and headed into the basement.
Beth flicked on a lamp, but the pool of light seemed to fall only in a dim circle just around the table its source rested on. The rest of the living room remained in shadows so strong they seemed almost dense.
She sighed. All that searching, calling, following voices, and for nothing. The air in the house was so still, yet charged with an energy waiting to be expelled; Beth could feel Stella's presence in every inch of the house, but it never seemed to be ready to come forth. How long had she spent going from room to room - walking, then running in the hopes of finally catching the spirit? She checked her watch: it was just after five pm now.
Five pm. Three hours she'd been here; she'd told the others she'd be no more than one. Why hadn't anyone called or come by? Despite the chill of the house, Beth had worked up a sweat as she'd combed every room, and now shivers ran down her back.
Something was very wrong.
How had she lost track of time this way? How had no one come to get her, as they had said they would? How was it so dark at only five o'clock?
A close glance out of the front window answered the last question. It had been raining earlier, and was clearly going to start raining again, soon. But this didn't put her any more at ease. For however long the rain had been coming down, she hadn't noticed it. She hadn't even thought to turn on any more lights. Three hours, she thought. It didn't feel like that long. She could have sworn she'd only been in each room once, maybe twice - in and out each time. Something was definitely wrong.
She'd been wrong to come here. As overwhelming as the compulsion to come over earlier had been, she was now filled with an equally strong urge to leave. She put her hand on the doorknob, and almost pulled it away again. The contact came with an uncomfortable sensation of being grabbed. She looked over her shoulder quickly and saw nobody. Aloud, she said, "I'll - I'll come back. I just need my friends."
Lightning flashed through the windows, temporarily overwhelming the weak light from the table lamp, and an instant later thunder rolled heavily from the sky outside.
On its heels came a different rumbling, a thunder from within, as the table lamp dimmed and went out even as light began to gather in the middle of the room. It began as a glow, growing in size and shape, hitting the floor. The rumbling grew to a breaking point as the glow took on a form, solidifying with arms, legs, and a face. White robes surrounded the blonde woman, and an unfelt wind blew them one final time before the figure opened her eyes.
For a moment, neither woman spoke. Beth wasn't sure she could speak if she tried; she felt paralyzed. Their eyes met, and they stared at one another for a long moment in silence. Finally, the spell was broken.
"You're here," said Stella in a soft voice.
"Yes," said Beth, feeling as though that should have been her line. "I'm still here. I'm going to help you."
Stella shut her eyes, a look of misery on her face.
"No, it's okay!" Beth said hastily. "We know what to do. I have friends who will be coming - we know you're a captive here. We're going to set you free."
Stella didn't look any less unhappy when she lifted her eyes back up to Beth's, and for a moment Beth felt frozen by a fear she couldn't place. But before either woman spoke, there was another rumbling: once again, not of thunder. Stella's head turned anxiously upwards, towards the staircase wall. Beth followed her gaze.
Again the room dimmed, and light gathered at the top of the staircase, at the wall. Along with the rumbling came another noise: a voice, that seemed to be yelling from a distance. It became louder as the light and rumbling built, and the glow at the wall began to tear itself open. With a final triumphant shout, a masculine figure stepped out of the wall and paused to dust himself off.
"I'm BACK, babes!" he yelled.
Beth had time to recognize him as the tomcat whose picture she'd seen in the paper with Stella's, before Stella herself exclaimed, "Richie!" and ran to meet him on his way down the stairs. Laughing, he threw his arms around her and they hugged happily.
When he had set her down, his eyes fell on Beth. "Who's your friend?" he asked, jerking a thumb at her.
"Leave her alone, Richie," Stella said quietly, the happiness from a moment before retreating as suddenly as it had begun.
Beth felt lightheaded as the cat began to stare at her, smiling and apparently sizing her up. She took a step backwards. "I- I'm Beth Webfoot. I live here now." Richie nodded emphatically, still smiling unsettlingly. "Um..."
"You're confused," said Stella, smiling slightly in apology. "Richie Kaspar was my business partner - in a sense, anyway. He and I have been trapped here for so long, though, that we keep each other company."
"Even though we only get to see each other for one night a year," Richie snorted, turning his attention back to Stella. She rolled her eyes.
Frowning, Beth said, "The paper got it wrong. They thought you killed her and ran out."
"Ha! I wish!" exclaimed Richie, then chuckled nervously. "I mean - heh, not the killin' part, babes. Just the runnin' out part."
"He did run," said Stella dryly. "He got scared and made a run for it -"
"I was goin' for help!"
"Right, Richie. That excuse hasn't been believable any year so far."
"Well, look, it's not like I made it far." He turned back to Beth. "I got all the way down the hallway before I got zapped with something. It wigged me out so much I just kept right on running, past the stairs, right through the wall. Been there ever since."
Realization dawned, belatedly, and Beth gasped. "You're the one who runs past my bedroom every night!" she blurted out.
"Kinda. It's not really me, it's a shade of me. This real me doesn't get out except once a year, and that's right now." His expression turned sly. "So, that's your bedroom, huh...?"
"Richie," Stella chided, smacking him on his arm.
The cat grinned. "Hey, hey, look, I'm just happy, y'know? We finally get to get outta here." He looked at Beth again and smiled even wider than before. "Someone's finally stayed long enough."
The lightheadedness hadn't passed, and it took Beth a moment to realize he was talking about her. She tried to smile. "That's right," she said. "I'm going to help - I'm sure we can set you both free, not just Stella."
"Oh, I sure hope so," said Richie knowingly. There was something to his voice that hadn't been there before, and Beth's smile slid off her face. She looked to Stella, but the blonde wouldn't meet her gaze. Speaking as though Beth wasn't there, Richie said casually, "Y'know, she kinda had a point though, babes. I mean, there is only one of her - what if only one of us gets out?"
"Don't talk like that," Stella said, sounding disgusted.
"But it's important!" he insisted. Behind them, Beth put a hand to her head and leaned on the lamp table for support. "I did some thinkin, and if only one of us can get out, then I promise I'll come back for ya next year, Stella."
Stella looked annoyed. "Richie!"
"What?" He looked as innocent as a cat could. "I really think it oughta be me that gets out, babes! I mean - y'know - wall... You know how long it's been since I've seen anything from the outside?" Stella sighed tiredly. "Okay okay, I mean, maybe we can work it so that I get to switch out from the wall, and you can come back for me... but really, babes, fair is fair, and -"
"We'll talk about this later," Stella cut him off. She and Richie both turned to Beth and stared at her. "This doesn't seem right to me," she said quietly.
Their voices seemed to be coming through a fog. Beth found that she wasn't sure she could stay on her feet much longer. What was happening to her? "I have to go," she said, speaking with difficulty. She felt like her head was stuffed with cotton. Richie and Stella seemed huge to her. She turned, with aching slowness, and reached her hand to the doorknob.
Behind her, Richie asked, "Has the spell been started?"
"It has," said Stella simply.
Beth saw the doorknob pass through her hand.
Alarmed, she tried again. She felt nothing, no resistance as her hand slid through the knob like a shadow. The last of her energy seemed to drain away, and she sank to her knees, staring at her hands. They were the slightest bit transparent. "What's happening," she whispered, but didn't have the energy to make it a question.
Richie stooped and picked her up, and she found herself going limp. "Let's get her up there, then."
"I don't like this," Stella said, quietly but firmly.
"Oh, me neither," agreed Richie lightly, as they started up the stairs.