Author's Note: I would normally post a bonus chapter on Wednesday, especially as Monday is so close to Saturday, when I posted last. However, Wednesday is Yom Kippur. No work allowed, the Holiest of Holy Days.

Also I had a crappy day and I want love.

Chapter Eight

Magica de Spell paced in front of the mirror. With her magic, she could penetrate to the other side and see the alternate universe. It was cloudy and fragmented, little better than what the normal mortal eye could see, but she saw blood glittering where the mirror had broken on this side. That was interesting. She filed that information away for later.

Scrooge thought she did this for a convoluted reason. Did he really think she would repair the mirror and be on her way? Ha, more the fool he. Of course, Magica wouldn't chance entering the mirror now, when the odds were slim she'd survive. But once the mirror was operational again, it posed no risk.

Honestly, hadn't he realized she was bending the truth before? Repaired, the mirror would be safe. Prior to its breakage, it'd been safe enough for Webbigail to walk through unharmed. Magica hadn't told him that either. Withholding such information might be cruel and she did feel a small amount of guilt about it, but the promise of the alternate universe was too much for her. Together, with her counterpart, she might finally be able to defeat Scrooge once and for all.

The old fool was in his office, as she'd banished him to prevent him from interfering. She needed concentration for this and, also, the mirror's jagged edges reminded her of the jagged rocks Della had plunged onto more than ten years ago. Magica was unable to get the image of Della's broken body out of her mind. Her hand trembled as she braced herself against the mirror frame. Della. Now that was something to feel guilt and remorse about.

If there was even a chance she could find the other Della and speak with her one last time…

There was a possibility that their relationship was more antagonistic in the alternate universe. Magica didn't pretend to know her counterpart's moods and personality. She sighed, stepping back. The mirror's frame was so cold and unwelcoming. She wasn't sure if it was the mirror's design or a warning.

Retreating a safe distance from the mirror, in case this didn't work, she raised her hands and commenced an incantation. Red magic sparks flew from her fingertips and palm as she chanted. This particular spell was lengthy and required precise pronunciation and timing. It had an internal rhyme scheme and when she finished, panting, she assessed the mirror.

Nothing had changed. She didn't do anything foolish, like kick the mirror as one of the brats had done. Rather, she started the incantation over again. She must have missed something or misspoken.

By the sixth time, her voice grew hoarse and yet, she detected the glass knitting itself together. Encouraged, she conjured up water and continued.

It took twenty tries, over an hour, before the mirror stood before her, unbroken and fully operational. She ought to tell Scrooge.

Shrugging, she figured he'd find out soon enough. She placed her palms against the glass, which shimmered and rippled like water. Bracing herself, she prepared to step through it. The archive door opened and she turned toward the rich old duck. Scrooge's eyes widened.

"I said I would help you, Scroogie," Magica said. "I never said the price. Mirror only works once a day, maybe less. Better luck next time."

She blew him a kiss and stepped through. Colors turned inside out and a bright light blinded her for a few seconds. Then something hurtled through the mirror on top of her and they landed with a crash.

"You were supposed to stay put!" she snarled, disentangling herself from Scrooge. Scrooge was attempting to get his feet under him and whacked her with his cane. She kicked at him and hoped her attack was enough to send him flying back through the mirror. He fell short of it and besides, the mirror's entrance point was closed for the time being.

"Tricked by Magica de Spell," Scrooge growled. "I should've known."

"Idiot!" she snapped. "Now you are trapped here too!"

"Only until the mirror opens back up again," he retorted. "And then I'll be back with wee little Webbigail."

"But not with me," she snapped, brushing herself off. "I have business."

"Oh, no, you don't," he countered and grabbed her wrist. She glowered but he didn't relinquish his grip. The familiar sensation of sparks between them flew and, as before, Magica ignored them. She told herself that he was an old coot and this meant nothing. After all, she'd been ignoring this for years now, as had he.

"You're not going anywhere," he snapped. "I didn't give you permission to use the mirror."

"You think I need your permission? Arrogant fool!"

"I asked you for a simple favor; you could've lorded it over me for years. But, no, you take advantage-"

"Of course I take advantage! When is another opportunity like this going to land in my lap? You are naive to think I would not have taken advantage," she returned and her beak curled in disdain. "Release me, McDuck."

"I think not," he said.

"You are going to parade me around this universe?" she scoffed. "Just to find your precious 'Webbigail'? You are suffering under the delusion that I will permit you to do that."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, McDuck, that you are only holding onto me because I am letting you do so," she said and yanked her wrist out of his grip. Or, at least, she tried, but for an old codger, he was surprisingly strong.

"Oh, let go, curse you."

"Not until I have Webbigail back," he said.

Magica's eyes glittered dangerously. She kicked him in the stomach, the suddenness of which caused him to lose his grip, and she took off, throwing down smoke gas to conceal her exit. Assuming that McDuck Manor's dimensions were the same in this universe, she beat a hasty escape to the nearest window where she could fly. She didn't know where her counterpart was, but magic calls to magic. Like calls to like. Her counterpart would be waiting for her, whether she knew it or not.

"Magica!" Webby 1 called and, startled, the sorceress halted in her tracks.

"That's Magica?" the brat with the red hat said. She hadn't kept track of their names. Behind him, his brothers halted, along with what Magica could only assume was Webby's counterpart. To Magica's surprise, the other girl, who looked older than Scrooge's precious Webbigail, stared at her with hatred in her eyes. Even in her dimension, where she and Scrooge had such enmity towards each other, no one had ever looked at her quite like that.

"The mirror's fixed!" Webby 2 cried joyously. Magica glanced to and fro, searching for an exit, and heard Scrooge coming up behind her. Time had run out.

Unfortunately, the brats were blocking the nearest window. Throwing down another gas cloud, she leaped clear of them, broke the window, and flew out. As she did, she kicked off a weight that had latched onto her leg. It must've been one of the brats.

"Get back here!" the older girl screeched.

"She must be going off to find the other Magica," she heard the younger Webby say. Magica snorted, speeding off into the distance.

"Webby, no!" the boys shouted as their Webby tried to chase after her. The smoke was clearing and Webby 1 stared, morose, out the broken window to Magica disappearing amongst the clouds. She was shaking and tears glittered in her eyes.

"Get back here!" she snapped. "Get back here and see what you've done! Damn it, come back!"

The boys tackled her and she thrust them all aside; her lower beak quivered and she seemed to be swallowing back sobs.

"It's too late, Webs," Louie said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"I can't believe she got away twice," Webby 1 said and her chest heaved. The boys rose to their feet and surrounded her.

"My darling Webbigail?" Uncle Scrooge said and both Webbys turned. Squealing in delight, Webby rushed to him and he scooped her up into his arms.

"Bless me bagpipes, you're all right!" he exclaimed. Webby closed her eyes and hugged him back, though she didn't miss Webby 1 staring out the window with her fists balled.

"Webby? It's okay," Dewey said.

"I just want Lena back…" Webby 1 said in a small voice. Webby opened her eyes to spy the boys hugging her tightly.

"Does this mean we can go home?" Webby asked.

"Not yet, lass," he said and scowled. "We don't know how often the mirror works and Magica's run off without telling us."

He turned toward the older Webby. "Lass, what's the matter?"

Rather than answer, she shook her head and buried her face in Louie's hoodie.

"What did I say?" Scrooge asked, baffled.

"Just what we needed-two Magica de Spells on the loose," Huey said, groaning. "Hey, hey. Webby. Let it out. It's okay."

"I'm gonna get her," Webby 1 said and there was something ominous in the way she said it. "I'll get her back."

Webby wasn't sure whether Webby 1 meant Lena or Magica. The other Webby didn't clarify, either. Instead, she hugged the boys back and stifled sobs. Webby understood how she felt. If something had happened to her best friend, she would've been distraught too.

"All right, what's going on? What's with all the yelling?" the red-attired Scrooge demanded, entering the scene. He took in everything, from the broken window to Webby 1 swearing vengeance to the other Scrooge standing there holding Webby up. His gaze tracked over all of them for a minute and his frown deepened.

"I assume the mirror's fixed," he said quietly.

"And now there are two Magicas running around Duckberg," Huey said, arm around Webby's shoulders.

"Aye, I gathered that from the broken window and Webby screaming," the older Scrooge remarked. He cocked his head at the blue-clad Scrooge.

"Don't I know you?" he said.

"It's you!" Webby burst out. "Or the other you."

"Yes, let's not make this any more confusing than it already is," the red-clad Scrooge said. He halted a few feet away from his counterpart. The two assessed each other.

"You let Magica de Spell into this universe," red Scrooge said, still in that strange quiet voice that unnerved Webby. "You let another one into this universe after you thought she'd help you and she betrayed you."

Her Scrooge didn't react and the red Scrooge moved forward again, stopping less than six inches away from his counterpart. She could feel the simmering anger coming off him and she cringed.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" he cried. "My Magica de Spell has no power right now, but now that yours is on her way over there, she will. You just brought a whole slew of trouble down upon our heads!"

"I was trying to rescue my wee darling Webbigail," her Scrooge said defiantly. "As I'm sure you would've done the same."

"I wouldn't have trusted Magica," the red Scrooge snapped. "I would've sooner trusted a Beagle Boy not to rob me Money Bin than trusted Magica de Spell not to doublecross me."

"Now see here. This isn't my fault!" her Scrooge retorted. "I didn't want to leave Webby all alone here!"

"You mean the Webby you treat like a servant?" Louie said. "Because I can kinda see why she'd rather stay here."

"I don't treat her like a servant!" her Scrooge objected. "She just has traditional roles as a girl. I treat her a sight better than the boys do."

"We need to have a discussion," the red Scrooge said and his voice remained dangerously low, containing suppressed anger. "And not in the middle of the hallway. Come. We'll go to the dining hall."

"I'm sorry I brought Magica de Spell down on you, but she's not that much of a danger," Scrooge protested. "She's after me money, more than likely."

"And the Magica I know would kill every one of us as revenge for trapping her in me lucky dime," the red Scrooge snapped. "As she came pretty close to doing before. I will explain things."

Without offering any further edification, he stormed off with the triplets and their Webby trailing behind.

"Are you all right, Webbigail?" Scrooge asked her in an undertone.

"I'm fine," she said. "We had an adventure, though! The Doofus here is mean and kidnapped me because he wanted to add me to his collection, but the other Webby came and rescued me. She can fight and defend herself and she's so cool, Uncle Scrooge. I wanna be just like her when I grow up!"

"Aye, don't be in a hurry to grow up too soon," he said gently. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to my wee sweet girl."

"No wonder she's a cinnamon roll," Louie muttered. "Look how much she's getting coddled."

"I am not a pastry and I am not getting coddled," Webby huffed.

"Oh, that's right, you're pre-internet," Webby 1 said. Her voice was strangled, perhaps because she was trying to master her emotions. "Louie's not calling you a pastry. He's saying that you're sweet and innocent and you deal with more than you deserve. It's a meme."

"What's a meme?"

"Ugh, you confused her again," Louie complained.

"We'd have to explain the whole internet culture to her," Huey protested. "That could take a while."

The red Scrooge turned around to look at them and she thought she glimpsed remorse in his gaze. He was feeling guilty about something, anyway, because he looked from her to the other Webby and then glanced ahead.

They found Mrs. Beakley in the dining room conversing with…a ghost? Webby shrieked.

"That looks like Duckworth," her Scrooge commented. "But, how can that be?"

"It is Duckworth," Dewey said in a nonchalant tone. "He's Uncle Scrooge's dead butler. Cool, right?"

"Not cool!" Webby protested. She didn't know Duckworth as well as she could've, although they were both technically servants, but it both disturbed and saddened her to see him as a ghost in this universe. Scrooge gently placed her down in a chair and sat beside her. He was staring at the ghost Duckworth and Webby whimpered.

Perhaps sensing the mood, Duckworth disappeared, floating through the door. Webby trembled and Scrooge hugged her.

"A ghost…" she whimpered, distressed.

"You don't have a lot of experience with the supernatural, do you, lass?" the red Scrooge said.

"No…" Webby murmured.

"Two Scrooges," Mrs. Beakley muttered. "Just what we need. Next thing you know everyone will be here."

"Not everyone," Huey said.

"Not Mom…" Dewey said, staring at the table. The triplets fell silent and, confused, Webby turned to look at Scrooge. The mood, if anything, grew even tenser. Apparently, Della Duck was a taboo subject around here.

"Why don't you tell me about your Magica de Spell from the beginning?" her Scrooge said, attempting to dispel the stressful atmosphere.

"There's not much to tell," the other Scrooge demurred. "We fought on Mount Vesuvius and I trapped her in me number one dime for fifteen years. Then, with the help of her shadow, she got free, trapped me in the dime, tried to kill everyone in the family and only her shadow's sacrifice helped us defeat her."

"Was that shadow Lena?" Webby asked and Webby 1 nodded, morose.

"Yeah...my best friend…" Webby 1 murmured.

"Technically, she only tried to kill us because we came to save you," Huey pointed out.

"You weren't going to let me stay in the dime, were you?" the red Scrooge asked.

"Considering how upset we were with you at that point, maybe," Dewey said. "You shouldn't have kept the secret of our mom from us."

"I'm sorry," the red Scrooge said and then glanced at Webby 1. "And I'm sorry for yelling at you on the Sunchaser, lass. You didn't deserve it and I was lashing out."

There was some family dynamic here Webby couldn't parse. She was glad that Uncle Scrooge had said she wasn't a servant, but something struck her as off about his saying that she had a traditional gender role. The other Webby didn't. Had society changed that much in thirty years?

"But am I family?" Webby 1 murmured.

"Of course you are," he said. He looked up to see Mrs. Beakley sniff at him.

"That was long overdue," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "And I'll thank you never to speak to my granddaughter again that way."

"All right, fine," the red Scrooge said. "There's a wee bit more than just what I told you about Magica. It really started with the boys and Webby investigating what happened to Della…"

About a half hour later, the red Scrooge finished his tale, with assistance from the boys and Webby 1.

"I wonder if the same thing happened to the other Della…" Webby mused.

"No, not quite," Uncle Scrooge answered. "She died in an accident while we were exploring the Andes in search of treasure. She slipped from the rope, which had gotten frayed, and…"

He stopped and Webby hugged him tightly, trying to ease the sadness that suffused his features.

"Cinnamon roll," Dewey said.

"It'd probably help if we knew the source of Magica's powers in our universe," Uncle Scrooge commented. "I don't know."

Webby 1 looked toward her shadow, but it wasn't doing anything unusual. She frowned.

"After we defeated Magica, Lena became my shadow," she explained. "But she hasn't spoken to me yet…the other Webby said that maybe Minima can help."

"Minima?" the red Scrooge asked.

"Magica's niece," her Scrooge answered.

"We'll worry about that later," the other Scrooge returned. "We'd better call Launchpad and head for Mount Vesuvius. I was hoping I wouldn't have to see that place again."

"You and I both," her Scrooge answered. "Damn treacherous sorceress."

"You have a Launchpad too? Does he crash all the time too?" Webby asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," the other Scrooge said with a sigh. "All the time."