All night long the house shuddered as Magica attempted to breach the protections. Lena shuddered too, petrified that once they failed, her aunt would murder her. Webby had fallen asleep already and normally, Lena would have asked to bunk with her. Now, with Dewey as an issue between them, she'd decided to take a spare room. She regretted it, though, because she couldn't sleep through Magica's tantrums. She kept imagining Magica's claws at her throat as she tore her to pieces.
She left her room to wander the manor. It was better than huddling in the dark and imagining the terrible things that her aunt wanted to be done to her. She crept toward Mrs. Beakley's room. Webby hadn't said that her grandmother had recovered enough to speak with. Lena felt guilty for her predicament. Magica had attacked her because of Lena. Because of Lena's friendship with Webby and her inability to push it aside.
She pushed open the door and found Mrs. Beakley sitting upright. A desk lamp was on and a pen and pad were underneath her right hand. The doctor was nowhere to be found, but Lena figured he had to be nearby, especially if his patient was awake. Mrs. Beakley turned her head at Lena's arrival. Maybe she should've knocked.
Or maybe she should duck back out. It was too late; Mrs. Beakley was writing something down on the pad and Lena crept closer to read it.
"Hello, Lena. I'm glad to see you're all right."
The house trembled from another magical onslaught and Lena winced. How long did Magica intend to keep this up? It was already two in the morning. Surely her bitch aunt had to sleep sometime.
"They know she's my aunt now," Lena said, gesturing toward the windows, where the glass shook in its frame. "Mr. McDragon wants me to stay here while he handles Aunt Magica. That's why she's been trying to break in. She knows which side I chose."
Mrs. Beakley smiled and gestured for Lena to come closer. Lena halted outside of arm's reach, just in case the older dragon intended to hurt her. Her tail swished again, uncertainty evident in her features. She was just a half-breed. She didn't understand why Scrooge McDragon was putting so much effort into caring for her.
"There wasn't much doubt about it, I guess, in the end," Lena added. Mrs. Beakley had torn that page off and was writing something else down.
"How's Webby?"
"She fell asleep before I did," Lena said and then hesitated. Mrs. Beakley would want the unvarnished truth. "She was crying in her sleep."
Mrs. Beakley frowned and started to write something else. Lena rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously and her tail swished back and forth. Irritated with it, she stomped on it and then clamped her mouth shut on a painful cry. Sometimes it felt like her tail had a mind of its own.
Whatever Mrs. Beakley had started, she scribbled out and instead wrote, "You're safe here."
"For how long?" Lena asked and the house shook its hardest ever, feeling like they were in the epicenter of an earthquake. The window glass cracked and Lena was sure that another hard magical shove would shatter it. She couldn't practice magic inside of the house or she would've conjured up a protective barrier about herself and Mrs. Beakley.
"Does that woman ever sleep?" an irritated male voice said and Lena whirled, hand flying to her amulet regardless of how useless that was.
"Not you," the man said, appearing at Mrs. Beakley's side. "You ought to be resting. As for you, young lady-"
He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence before the windows shattered and the doctor cast a shield around them. It only lasted a few seconds, but that was long enough to prevent anyone from getting hit by glass shards. Lena's chest hurt, her aunt's naturally dark presence weighing on her through the astral plane, and she gasped out a quick apology to Mrs. Beakley before bursting out of the room to find Webby.
It wasn't until she'd reached her door that she remembered Webby's window was in another part of her room, not close enough to hit her if she was asleep in bed-she had a loft, which was where the window was.
Nonetheless, she pushed the door open. Webby was wide awake and the lights were on. As she'd suspected, the glass had likewise shattered in here and covered the floor in the loft above her bed. The house shuddered once more and then fell still, an ominous pause in Lena's opinion. She didn't see how her aunt could keep up the onslaught, all the while thinking that her aunt wouldn't stop until she'd lured Webby or Lena out to kill them.
"She really wants you dead," Webby said quietly, turning to face her. Her face was wet from crying and Lena rushed to her. She hugged her to her.
"I don't care," Lena said, which wasn't entirely true. "She's wanted me dead for years. As soon as I outlived my usefulness, she probably planned on killing me."
Webby's grip tightened on her. Despite the blase way she'd said it, or perhaps because of it, it seemed to have affected Webby harder than she'd intended. Webby clutched at her and Lena rested her chin on Webby's head.
"Lena?"
It was Dewey and Lena started, whirling around with Webby in her arms.
"Hey, uh, are you okay?" Dewey said. "I went to check on you and Webby after I heard the glass shattering, but you weren't in your room and Webby's lights are on."
Dewey stood in the doorway and looked awkward in his blue pajama outfit. It was so absurd, this whole situation, that Lena had to stifle hysterical laughter. Magica was trying to storm the manor and Dewey wanted to know if she was okay. If she took one step outside this house, she'd be murdered on the spot. And he wanted to know if she was okay.
She giggled insanely.
"Uh...I'm gonna take that as a 'no'..." Dewey said, perturbed.
"Lena…" Webby said, stroking her cheek with the back of her hand. Now that she'd started, she was incapable of stopping. Dewey approached her and put a hand on her other cheek. She wasn't sure why, but his touch calmed her down a little, enough to stifle the laughter.
"Your grandmother woke up," Lena said, desperate to change the subject. She didn't trust Dewey enough to discuss it in front of him and anyway...what was there to say? She'd been used and abused so much, withholding all that information, that she didn't see the point in saying anything.
"Granny's okay?" Webby burst out.
"She can't speak aloud, but she can write her answers down," Lena replied. "The doctor made her go back to sleep."
"But she's okay?" Webby asked, anxious.
"She'll be all right," Lena said, not sure if Webby's grandmother would ever speak again but not wanting to complicate matters by bringing that up right now. Webby sagged in relief in her arms and Lena nuzzled her. It was a relief to be able to be affectionate with her, though it was disconcerting when Dewey smoothed back Lena's hair. She wanted to tell him to stop, but it, like his hand on her cheek, was oddly soothing.
Another, much weaker concussion struck the house and then died away. By now, her aunt had to be exhausted. She'd been assaulting the house's defenses for four hours to no avail. Lena entertained the faint hope that she might give up for a few hours and get some sleep.
"What about you?" Dewey said. "You didn't answer my question."
"That's because I don't have an answer," she said.
"You don't know if you're okay," Dewey said, nonplussed. "How do you not know a thing like that?"
"It's all relative," Lena said. She hadn't been 'all right' in a very long time, though she was approaching it now in Webby's arms. Between Webby and Dewey touching her, she felt grounded. She glanced up, expecting the house to shake again, but it didn't. Maybe her aunt might have given up for the moment.
"It seems like that'd be a yes or no answer…" Dewey said, perturbed. She stroked Webby's hair and didn't respond.
"You're staying here, right?" he said when it became apparent she wasn't going to respond.
"Do I have a choice?" she retorted.
Webby's eyelids fluttered and Lena remembered that it was the middle of the night. Somehow, with all the excitement going on, she'd forgotten. Her soothing ministrations must've reminded Webby she was tired. And her fatigue was catchy. Lena found herself relaxing too.
"It's late," Lena said and stretched. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Stay here," Webby murmured and it was a good thing her eyes were closed or she would've seen the strange look Lena gave her. Her first reaction was "no", followed by "well, why not?". She couldn't sort out her feelings. She knew she loved Webby. That had been a constant in her life. That didn't explain her nascent reactions to Dewey.
"Is there enough room?" Dewey asked, eying Webby's four poster bed.
"We'll fit," Lena said laconically. She wasn't happy about sharing Webby and the whole situation was so strange she didn't know how to quantify it.
They curled up on the bed with Webby in the middle. Lena held one hand and Dewey the other. By the time they had settled, Webby was fast asleep. She wasn't crying anymore, at least, and a small smile curved her lips. Lena leaned forward, unable to resist, and kissed her.
She looked up to spy Dewey staring at her.
"What?"
"How long have you wanted to do that?" he asked. There was no judgment in his voice, just curiosity.
"What's it to you?" she asked, guarded.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?"
Feeling like there was a trick that she couldn't discern, she nodded. She stroked Webby's cheek with her free hand.
"If Webby doesn't choose between us, I just want you to know that I'm okay with that. That I'm okay sharing her if you are."
"I'd rather not," she said. "I've been making concessions for her all my life. I just want one thing to be mine for once."
Dewey nodded and interlaced his fingers with Webby's. "I get that. But I'm not going to disappear and neither are you."
"Don't make her choose between us."
She was afraid she'd lose if Webby did.
"She'll make up her own mind," Dewey affirmed. "But you deserve to be happy too."
Lena scoffed. After all that she'd been through, she wasn't as sure about that as him. While she did think that she deserved at least one thing to herself, she wasn't sure she merited happiness. After all, she'd been deceiving everyone for years. But the way Webby had put it made it sound noble instead of suffering needlessly.
Maybe it was noble and Lena couldn't see it. She glanced over at Webby's sleeping form and her heart clenched. She loved her so much. And it'd kill her to know she'd gone through all of that for nothing. But the important thing was whether Webby was happy.
Even if that felt like it'd suck in the long run.
Mrs. Beakley was awake and alert when Scrooge arrived. She could even speak, albeit very quietly. Calente discouraged it, which meant that Scrooge was reading her responses. Worse things had happened. He was just glad to see her recovering.
"Lena knows where Magica is holed up, but I can't just ask her to venture out to find her," Scrooge said. "It'd be a death sentence for the lass. But if we don't figure something out, we're going to spend entirely too much time looking for her when she already has plans for us.
"I could lure her out again, but that trick might only work once."
He paced back and forth in her bedroom. He couldn't ask Bentina to stand out there again and provide a target. He'd nearly lost her once. Losing her permanently was unthinkable.
"I could go with her," Scrooge said, frowning. "Magica wouldn't attack both of us, not if she wanted to ensure she'd remain on my good side."
"You're putting Lena in unnecessary danger," Mrs. Beakley reprimanded via notebook.
"I don't have a choice," he huffed. "There's no other way to find out her base of operations than to use Lena."
He heard how that sounded and winced, feeling awful that things had come to this. However, like he'd told Beakley, he didn't see an alternative. It would take far too long to search all the caverns west of the city and, in that time, Magica would have lost her patience and found a way to get inside McDragon Manor. Worse, she would find a way to get her vengeance on Webbigail and Lena, especially Lena for betraying her.
"I won't put it that way to Lena," he amended.
Mrs. Beakley raised her eyebrows. "Hasn't the child gone through enough?"
"And this will be the last thing I ask her to do," he said. "I swear."
"Webby is going to want to accompany you," Mrs. Beakley retorted. "And if you deny her, she'll sneak along. I know my granddaughter."
"She's just a wee lass! She's too young!" he objected.
"She's a teenager," Beakley rejoined. "Lena de Spell is her best friend and you're leading her into danger. She's trained enough to be able to hold her own, Mr. McDragon."
"Be that as it may…" he clenched his fists. Lena was one thing-Lena was necessary. Webby? Webby could get hurt. Perhaps he was allowing his memories of Webby as a young child to cloud his current impression. Webby could be quite capable when she chose to be. It was just something she didn't exhibit often because danger didn't come to them; they went to danger.
"You're not going to gainsay her if she wants to go, are you?" he asked.
She shook her head. "It's her prerogative."
"There's no reason to bother them about this now," he said. "I'll inform them in the morning."
"You should get some sleep too," Beakley scolded, but he could tell it was gentler than her previous comments, despite reading it off a paper instead of hearing her speak. He knew her well enough to detect tone in her words, written or vocalized.
"I'll sleep when I'm tired," he scoffed. Of course, that could be a long time from now. Right now, he was fueled by guilt, outrage, and concern. It wasn't an unfamiliar cocktail-he'd felt similarly when Della had gone missing. He'd had insomnia for years after her disappearance. It looked like this was going to be another one of those nights.
"You'll sleep now and worry about it later."
"Ah, don't worry about me. Worry about yourself first," he said, waving her off. "I'll be fine."
Her eyes narrowed.
"The same kind of 'fine' that Lena is?" she countered.
"Now you're not playing fair!" he huffed. "That is an entirely different situation."
Yet he couldn't meet her eyes when he said that. They both knew the similarities were uncanny.
"Is it?" she shot back.
His stomach churned. Not only did he know Lena wasn't faring well, he knew he was leading her into danger by asking her to assist him in locating Magica. He would be putting two children in danger for this plan to work. It seemed to him like he'd need more back-up than that. He could ask Donald to pitch in; Goldie wasn't likely to want to help, not if there was nothing in it for her.
Four on two, including one who was a bird. Yes, that sounded even, especially when it came to Magica de Spell. He shrugged off the guilt from that-he didn't have to be just, not when Magica was using a child as a pawn. Not when he was doing something similar to Lena…
"It's not black and white," he retorted and left without reading her response. He was angry, both because he knew she was right and because he felt remorse over it. He would make it up to Lena somehow. For now, he had logistics to plan and miles to go before he slept.