Morgana Macawber was oblivious to Negaduck's plotting. She was currently leafing through a magazine about weddings. True, Darkwing hadn't popped the question just yet, but she couldn't wait around forever. After all, a girl had to have priorities. And if he didn't ask her soon, she was going to ask him.
She snorted. As much as she loved Darkwing (and that was considerable), he could be remarkably slow on the uptake sometimes. She'd have to force the issue. Above her head, Eek and Squeak were trying to get her attention, but she ignored them. Now, there was a perfectly lovely and macabre wedding layout on page 27 that she was dying to project…
They squeaked louder and Morgana huffed, looking up. Someone had entered her house without knocking or even giving her the courtesy of announcing their presence. Now that her concentration was broken, she felt them like a weight on her chest. When she'd been evil, such astral weight, designating darkness, had been common enough, particularly around her relatives. Now that she wasn't, however, it felt like nails on a chalkboard to her.
"Who's there?" she demanded.
When no one answered, she gritted her teeth and straightened up on the sofa. The magazine was temporarily forgotten and thrown onto a nearby coffee table. Willing her magic to the surface in case she needed it, she advanced through the house and toward the darkness she sensed. Her hands glowed at her sides.
"Dark?" she called. She knew it wasn't but, thought she might be able to trick who she suspected it to be into revealing himself.
"Close," Negaduck sneered. "Just a little off, Morgana, my sweet."
She shuddered. When the term of endearment came from Darkwing Duck, it was acceptable, desired even. When it came from Negaduck, she wanted to slap him. She'd been a villain before, involved in shady business dealings and petty larceny, but she wasn't a sociopath the way he was. She didn't want to hurt people the way he did. The cruel streak that ran through him would've left her cold before. Now, she had a glacial attitude toward him.
"What do you want?" she retorted, tone clipped. "You can't fool me pretending to be Darkwing Duck. It won't work."
"I wasn't trying to," Negaduck said and his voice sounded closer, yet she couldn't pinpoint his location. It was maddening and it made her wonder whether there was more magic here at play there. The only other sorceress she knew of was Magica de Spell and Magica hadn't been seen or heard from in fifteen years. Morgana had only been a teenager when Magica had vanished.
She flicked a light switch nearby and Negaduck appeared. His teeth seemed to be filed to razor edges and while she knew it might've intimidated others, such as his followers, it did nothing for her. His gaze was cold as it raked over her and she responded in kind, glaring back.
"I asked you before you and I'll ask you again," Morgana said. "What do you want?"
"The way I see it, there are two ways this could go," Negaduck said, still not answering her. It was thoroughly infuriating. Her hands at her sides blazed magic now and it would have been sufficient warning for anyone who thought to tangle with her. Anyone, it seemed, except Negaduck.
"Oh?" she retorted and decided to play along. "How's that?"
"One, you come with me and abandon Darkwing Duck," Negaduck said and then, as he approached, she became aware of a gas gun similar to Darkwing Duck's in his right hand. She gazed at it and then back to his face. Something about that gun was putting her on guard. If Negaduck had a gas gun, it couldn't have anything good in it. (Even if it was unlike Negaduck to copy Darkwing's things and actually use them).
She snorted. "And what's the second situation?"
"I was afraid you'd pick that option," he said, but his eyes were alight with malice and something else. Possessiveness. He stopped a foot away from her and leveled the gas gun at her. She watched him for any sudden movements.
"Option two is that I take you out of here by force. Now, no one wants that," he said in a tone that contradicted his words. "Either way, I don't see you and Darkwing working out. Not for the long term."
"I'd never betray him!" she said hotly. "Why am I even arguing with you? Eek, Squeak, get rid of him!"
Negaduck pulled on the trigger of the gas gun and sparkling powder filled the air. It coated everything around them and she inhaled; as she breathed it in, it felt like it was attacking her. The concoction, whatever it was, dug deep into her and tore at her from inside. Gasping, she fell to her knees. What was this? What had he done?
Eek and Squeak were insensible beside her. She poked at them and dull horror filled her. Her eyes filled with tears, partially from concern over them and partially as an aftereffect of the powder. Attempts to speak failed as the powder grated her throat and filled her lungs.
Eek and Squeak weren't breathing. She reached out toward them and collapsed, unable to fill her lungs. It felt like the powder was taking up space where air ought to go. Surely Negaduck wouldn't kill her? Surely, if he wanted to prove a point to Darkwing Duck, he'd leave her alive to do that? She shuddered again as the flames in her mind that were her familiars winked out.
"I never liked them much anyway," Negaduck scoffed and kicked their bodies away. She looked up at him with an increasingly watery gaze. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her in his arms. This close, the darkness that consumed him felt like a black hole she was falling into. Its gravity was inescapable and she was being pulled in. She could barely breathe and her limbs were leaden, not responding to her attempts to fight him off. Oh, Darkwing...she'd failed him.
Negaduck stroked her hair and smiled. She shivered, but only in her mind.
"You're going to help me bring down St. Canard," Negaduck informed her with that warped grin. "And you're going to do it of your own free will. And when we're done taking over the place, you're going to kill Darkwing Duck. You'll do it with a smile on your face."
He leaned over and kissed her on the beak.
"Right, my dear?"
Morgana went limp in his arms. Her vision faded out, but she remained semi-conscious as he hauled her out to the street and then dumped her in his version of the Ratcatcher. He didn't buckle her in, not that she would have expected him to, and as they traveled along the streets, her mind grew increasingly hazy. Concepts such as right and wrong blurred in her head.
"There is no good or evil. Just power and those too weak to seek it."
She fought, each struggle becoming increasingly weaker and weaker until she found herself succumbing. By the time Negaduck had brought her to his hideout, he had achieved his goal with time to spare.
It had been a late night. Darkwing Duck was exhausted, barely capable of shuffling off to bed. He dragged his feet up the stairs and heard voices coming from Gosalyn's room. They really ought to be asleep, but he didn't have it in him to reprimand her right now. Instead, he sloughed off to bed. Whatever was happening, he'd deal with it in the morning.
He passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, regardless of the fact he was still wearing his costume, hat and all.
When he opened his eyes, it wasn't to find himself in his room. Rather, he was in Morgana's house and the lights were out. Was he asleep or had he driven to Morgana's house without realizing it? Bewildered, he stepped toward an occupied sofa. The figure on it looked like Morgana, but only her shadow.
"Um, Morg? What's going on?" he said. "When did I get here?"
"Darkwing!" she exclaimed and whirled around. But there was nothing to her, no substance at all. Instead, she was all shadows and moonlight. Unsettled, he took a step back.
"There's usually a bit more to you than this…" he said, chuckling weakly.
"It's all I can summon right now and even that power is fading," Morgana answered. "I can barely project onto the astral plane."
"The astral plane? Is that what this is? I thought it'd be more, you know, astrally."
Morgana huffed. "Do you even know what you're talking about? No, never mind. We don't have time for that."
"You didn't really answer my question," he said. He continued gawking at her shadow self. "Er, well, what I meant as a question. What happened to you?"
She shook her head and clutched at her throat. "I can't...I can't say...damn. He must've found a magical artifact with some power in it. He shouldn't have been able to confine my movements when I'm unconscious."
"Unconscious?" he repeated. "Or asleep?"
"Unconscious." Her shadow self rippled and she hissed. "I have less time than I thought. Darkwing, you have to listen to me. Neh-Neh-Neh..."
She cursed as she stammered over the name. "I can't say it. I can't even allude to it. You have to find help. Someone who knows more about magic to get me out of this."
"Get you out of what? I still have no clue what's going on."
"Dark! I love you!" she said and then her shadow self vanished. Jolted awake, he stared up at the ceiling. That...had been very confusing. What on earth was going on with Morgana? And it wasn't like she had a phone like everyone else that he could pick up and call. Morgana was pretty much anti-technology. Not that phones were hi-tech, mind you, but even that, she had an aversion to.
"I love you too?" he said, baffled. "Usually my dreams aren't full of weird portents and mysteries."
More awake than he'd been when he came in, he walked over to Gosalyn's room. By now, the girls had fallen silent and he cracked the door open. Gosalyn was fast asleep, passed out and sprawled out on her bed, but Lena was awake and cradling an amulet. When she saw him, she stuffed it back under her shirt.
"What is going on, young lady?" he demanded.
"I could ask you the same thing," she replied. "There was magic around here and now there isn't."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he retorted. "Shouldn't you be asleep too?"
"Maybe."
"No 'maybe' about it. Go to bed!"
Lena's gaze wasn't on him, but rather on the open window. He didn't pretend to know the first thing about magic, but her odd behavior, coupled with Morgana in his dream, had him on edge again. Since he'd been apprehensive most of the night, he didn't appreciate the reminder. What was going on around here?
Lena crawled into her sleeping bag, but her eyes were still on the window. Darkwing left her that way, all the while feeling that he was missing something important.
Mrs. Beakley had never been much for horror films. She found them trite and not at all scary. Now, however, she had a different perspective. Being trapped in her own body and unable to do anything was the single most horrifying experience she'd ever had in her life. It felt like her body no longer belonged to her, but to Magica. The worst part was that no one noticed the difference. Magica was right. No one was close enough to her to tell.
Webby wasn't her true granddaughter and had only known her a few months. Scrooge was her employer and not very observant besides and of the triplets, only Huey would have noticed such a thing. Louie might've noticed and shrugged it off, but if she was relying on the boys for help, she was already a goner.
Not that she knew how they'd be able to help her, either. As far as she knew, there was no way to drive Magica out. Signaling to someone that she was being possessed would be the first step, if she could have managed that much. The sad fact was she couldn't. The only times when her body was her own were when Magica slept and it seemed that a sorceress hungry for revenge didn't sleep very often.
Worse yet, Magica believed in blocking her senses, so there were large gaps of time Mrs. Beakley couldn't account for. She didn't know what was going on or what, exactly, Magica had in mind. She was a pawn as much as anyone else in Magica's game.
At present, the sorceress was watching Webby with avarice. Mrs. Beakley didn't know what her interest in the girl was, beyond it being sinister and ominous. On the surface, Beakley seemed like her normal self. She was currently instructing Webby and her sister Gosalyn on proper techniques to defend oneself against an armed attacker. Magica had plucked the knowledge from Mrs. Beakley's mind, though the sorceress was growing bored with the exercise.
Magica sniffed and Mrs. Beakley, who had never been able to sense such things before (and whose inability to do so might have led to this situation), noticed a strange perturbance in the astral plane. She had the odd feeling that someone was being dragged, kicking and screaming, away. Magica's interest piqued, she walked away from the girls and stood by the window.
Gosalyn asked her something and she waved her off. There was another sorceress out there, was there? Interesting...Magica could use this. Whether she was affiliated with the light or the dark was another story, but Magica could work with that. Of course, if Lena hadn't had the dratted amulet, it would have been easier. However, she thought she could find another way. She didn't need magic to trick people. After all, she was doing well enough on her own with this mundane body.
And if she could possess the other sorceress, she might be able to restore herself to her former glory and seize the dime too. For now, however, this body had use. When she was done, she might just kill her or leave a husk. Magica smiled cruelly.
((You will do no such thing!)) Mrs. Beakley managed weakly and Magica scoffed, punting her into the back of her mind where she couldn't speak. It felt like the walls were closing in on her and she was suffocating.
((I will do as I please,)) Magica informed her smugly. ((It's not like anyone around here is going to stop me. As for you preventing me, the idea is laughable.))
Of course Mrs. Beakley should have known that Scrooge's number one dime would figure into this somehow. He was obsessed with it and so was Magica. They would have made a good couple based on that obsession, she'd thought sourly, if they could get over their own egos. Of course, Magica being evil and Scrooge being chaotic good wouldn't have helped her cause.
And these were the inanity of thoughts she had when she had no one to speak with and was suppressed in her mind. Mrs. Beakley wanted to bang her head into a wall, but, of course, she couldn't.
"Tell me," Magica said through Mrs. Beakley's beak. "Are there any other sorceresses about I should know about? Anyone I need to keep an eye out for, in case they discover Magica's location?"
Webby and Gosalyn exchanged a look and Magica wondered whether this was too brazen. Perhaps she should have been subtler in her questioning. It was too late now.
"No…" Webby said, shaking her head.
"Morgana wouldn't," Gosalyn added. "She's not interested in any evil sorceresses. Why do you ask?"
"It seems like a pretty big liability, leaving Magica alone like that," she said.
"She's been captive for fifteen years," Gosalyn said. "She's not going anywhere."
Yet Mrs. Beakley sensed that Gosalyn was lying, as did Magica. Magica was quick to pounce.
"I certainly hope not," she responded smoothly. "I would hate to think that someone might have freed her in a misguided attempt to right a wrong."
Webby and Gosalyn looked uneasy and Magica smirked inwardly. This might be easier than she thought.
Oh, children. What had they been up to? Had they freed Magica in a desperate, good-natured attempt to rescue Lena? Mrs. Beakley had always felt bad for Lena, even though she was a shadow and not a real girl, but that was taking it a step too far.
((Just as I thought,)) Magica sneered. ((Kindness is a weakness that can be exploited. Thank you, Lena, for finally being useful for once.))
Mrs. Beakley hoped that wherever Lena was, she was out of Magica's grasp. Of course, since Magica was currently inhabiting her body, she didn't see that as a possibility. Mrs. Beakley sagged in her invisible prison.
"Who's Morgana?" Magica asked, returning to her previous tack.
"My dad's girlfriend," Gosalyn said with a shrug. "She's okay, I guess. Dad's crazy about her and she's crazy about him, but all their googly eye stuff is kinda gross."
Magica didn't care for the romance either, but she could exploit that too, much like the girls' weakness for Lena. She seemed to be picking up all sorts of pointers right now. Magica was preening in her mind and Mrs. Beakley longed to take her down a peg. If Magica were corporeal, she could have slammed her against the wall and beat her until she cried for mercy. Now it was Mrs. Beakley who was pinned and helpless. It was not a familiar or wanted sensation.
((Serves you right, you know,)) Magica scoffed. ((You always believed you couldn't be taken on...until you were beaten. But feel free to despair. I'm quite enjoying it.)))
No, she couldn't give into despair. She would have to come up with a plan and soon. Of course, if Magica kept paying attention to her, she wouldn't be able to do so. She'd just have to hope something would occupy her enough to stop paying attention for just an hour or so…
Someone had noticed that Mrs. Beakley wasn't quite right, though he hadn't broached the subject to his brothers yet. He thought perhaps he might be imagining things or else blowing it out of proportion. It wouldn't be unlike him to call attention to fuss over nothing. Nonetheless, he knew Mrs. Beakley's cooking was off and there had been eggshells in their omelet this morning. Mrs. Beakley was normally a consummate professional, especially when it came to cooking.
This bore closer examination. He'd keep an eye on her and see if anything else weird happened. If it did, he'd tell his brothers. He wasn't sure what could be done about it.
Never did it cross his mind that it might be Magica pulling the strings. After all, though he worried about what he, Webby, and Gosalyn had unleashed, he thought he would have had a sense if Magica was lurking about the manor. Something would have tipped him off. No, wherever Magica was, it wasn't here. Uncle Scrooge had magical protection spells, didn't he? She would've triggered at least one of them…
Unsettled now, he decided to watch Ottoman Empire with his brothers. When in doubt, mindless TV usually did the trick. The girls were busy with Mrs. Beakley training and Uncle Scrooge was in his office. Donald was fixing up his houseboat for the umpteenth time. Everything was it should be.
Wasn't it?