A/N: "Cry 'havoc!' and let loose the dogs of war" is the actual line from Shakespeare that I learnt from a Klingon.

A/N: The term 'beater' that I'm using here is for someone whose task it is to literally 'beat around the bush'. The job is to 'rustle up' or startle the wild game and get it to come out of the denser scrub so the bulk of the hunting party can ... uh ... have at it.

A/N: I also want to thank Joss Whedon for Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Cry Vampire

Meanwhile ... Audubon National Park.

After a short walk through the woods Drake Mallard stepped out into the clearing after Clive and Joss. Now that they were out in the open he had a proper chance to review his extra fellow team-mates who had joined them along the way. With the addition of four civilians, there were ten in the clearing.

"I was only here last month." Mallard muttered to himself in surprise, looking at all the unfortunate tree stumps around them.
"Wasn't there a crazy wild bear loose up here then?"
"Uh-um, I must've just missed him."

"We'll hold up here." Clive said, turning around from inspecting the now-treeless area to frown at Mallard. "Don't you think, Mallard?"
"There are advantages and disadvantages to working in an open space." Mallard answered. "The prime disadvantage is that you-."
"Have nowhere to hide?"
"-Can see them just as well as they can see you." He finished crossly. "Especially when dealing with an opponent who is for lack of a better word bigger than you; the potential surprise advantage is lost."
"Yeah, well, no worries on this one." Clive patted his shoulder. "He's gonna be heaps surprised when he comes bowling into the lot of us."

"That analogy doesn't promote much confidence, Clive." A civilian woman with spikey bubble-gum pink hair pouted.
"Don't get all skittle-ish on us, Veri." Another woman with straight blue and black streaked hair teased her. Down to their matching tight leather outfits and fingerless gloves, they were twins. Only their hair distinguished them visually from each other.
"Oh, grow up, Chris. You're like a zillion years older than me."
"Twerp, I so-oo am younger than you. You're just mad because I wore the same outfit as you again ..."

Joss spoke up over their bored squabbling voices; "do you want me to describe the Xheklsit again, Mallard?"
"No. No, I ... heard it the first time loud and clear, thanks." Mallard gripped his quarterstaff. This one didn't have rubber ends and was therefore a potentially lethal instrument. "The others'll lure it out here into the open, and we all ..." He gulped and consciously relaxed his hold on the quarterstaff. "What I wouldn't give for Morgana's freezing hex right about now," he muttered. The idea of killing made him uncomfortable in his own feathers.

"You do realise what would happen if we don't kill it, Mallard?"

"Oh, sure." He frowned at Joss who'd guessed his grievance a little too easily for his liking. "Sure I realise. It'll head back to St. Canard, destroying everything in its way as it does. I just ... don't usually work in large teams."
"It's pretty simple." Joss said calmly.
"Stick to the plan as much as possible and chip in where you see an opportunity." Clive explained. "Eventually someone will get through."
"Then we all eat," added Joss as the others in the group began to form a line across the clearing.

"Eat?" Mallard squawked. "Eider never said anything about eating!"

"Well, look at it this way." Clive shrugged. "If we don't eat it, it'll eat us. And then once it's finished with us appetizers, it'll go rip through St. Canard for the main course."
"We're the first line."
"Just us and ... that." Clive pointed in front of them.

The sound of crashing through the undergrowth heralded the approaching Xheklsit demon.

The two beaters came racing up from that direction and joined the line.
"Are you alright, Richie?" Joss asked.
Mallard reviewed the shredded clothes and the smell of singed fur.
"It's spitting mad." Richie breathed. "I gone and went down and nearly didn't get back up in time."
"Maybe you should sit this one out." Mallard suggested to the security officer.
"No way," Richie barked, straightening up. "I've only just gotten started."

The Xheklsit beast was a sickly yellow. It stood eight feet high and lumbered heavily out into the clearing on its toadstool legs. Four long arms with taloned claws slashed at everything in its way. The demon roared, baring row upon row of sabre fangs at them. In Mallard's opinion it frankly didn't look as surprised to see them as Clive had thought it would be, but it certainly did look spitting mad like Richie had recounted.

"You remember the plan, Mallard?" Joss asked.

"Plan ...?" He repeated the word, trying to grasp its meaning as his mind worked on the extraordinary problem in front of them and the assets they had to stop it. The twins had nothing in their hands and Richie was missing his quarterstaff so he had nothing either.

"Mallard, you do remember the plan?"
"... Sure; it's a great plan!" He ran forward and joined the circle. He was vaguely aware of Joss cursing behind him.

There was twelve in the group as they circled around the creature.

"Are we going to reason with it?" Mallard asked hopefully, "try to communicate on some level?" The thing lurched at him and he deflected the blow with the quarterstaff.
"It's not an alien, Mallard."
The Xheklsit thrashed out at the speaker who jumped out of the way.
"It doesn't take superior intelligence to stumble through an inter-dimensional rift." Clive informed him and then used his staff to ward off a strike.

"Oi, you, demon, you wanna talk about this?" Chris with the blue-black hair asked, then jumped back as it spat on the place she was standing.

The grass sizzled.

"You got lost?"
"Found yourself outside of your own dimension?"
"You need help to get back?"
The demon roared in confusion, thrashing out randomly at the voices.

As one of the arms swung around, Mallard ducked and backed up a step. The creature straightened, its attention caught on something. It sniffed the air and then turned right round to stare at Drake Mallard.

"What the heck is it doing?"
"It's because he smells different from the rest of us." Joss said. "He's marinated in a witch's brew."
"I am not marinated!" He snapped defiantly at Joss as the creature took a heavy step towards him.
"Yikes! Get out of there, Mallard!"

The creature sniffed at him, its yellow slitted eyes glared at him as it advanced. "I'll give you some advice," Mallard said unfazed as he stood his ground, "you're outnumbered and we're armed." With the gigantic creature's attention on Drake Mallard, half a dozen vampires began advancing on it from behind. "You should retreat back to where you came from."

"Also, you don't want to take me on specifically," Mallard continued gamely, "because I'll win."
The Xheklsit demon flung out its four arms, quite suddenly knocking the approaching vampires off their feet. It grabbed Mallard, raising him high into the air, opened its mouth wide, and then dropped him in.

Someone shrieked.

Mallard thrust the quarterstaff in sideways, trapping the beast's mouth open and he perched, balancing aerobatically on top.

"I'd hate to be your dentist," Mallard commented, "you could seriously use some mouthwash."
The demon struggled with the steel stick caught in its mouth. With a toss of its head it threw the duck wide.
He landed with a roll on the ground beside a large tree and jumped back up to a stand. He brushed the stray bits of grass and leaves from his training outfit. "Everyone's a critic," he muttered and looked up.

From all around the vampires advanced on the momentarily distracted demon. Just as its acid saliva melted away the wedged metal pole they went into a frenzy. Mallard cringed, feeling his stomach turn. He quickly shut his eyes, listening to the grotesque sounds as the vampires ripped into their prey.

Drake Mallard edged back, keeping his eyes firmly shut, and bumped into the tree. Using it as an aid, he slipped behind it and leaned against the large trunk, taking deep calming breaths.

He really didn't like the idea of being part of killing anything. How many times had he thought he'd killed Bushroot? He'd lain awake for hours, wondering if he'd really done it that time. Hoping that he hadn't, cursing himself for not having handled the situation better. If only he could find a better solution, of course he'd try it! He agreed completely with Rex Euston. He blinked back tears, clenching his fists. This was not a good time to start thinking.

"Drake?" The female voice cooed in the dark as if looking for him.

"Dra-ake." Another voice sang his name, closer than the last one.

He listened to the sound of many soft footsteps on the grass and dirt coming in his direction.

"Oh, Dra-ake."

"No ... not Drake."

"What is it, like some sort of drug?" He snarked. As he searched for the word to describe his impression of them, they came around the tree, slinking, leisurely and catlike. In the shadow of the tree there wasn't a difference left between them as they all gazed at him with glowing yellow eyes; the same colour as the demon's eyes. "... You're all possessed!" He concluded in horror. "What're the procedures for a vampire exorcism?" He spluttered; "or, that is to say eleven vampire exorcisms?"

One of them cackled.
"You seem to think I'm joking!"
They grabbed him into the centre of them, sniffing at him, trailing fingers across his training outfit. He squirmed, trapped between them, suffocating under their fierce attention.

"Darkwing Duck."

Fear gripped his insides, solid in his stomach. They'd figured it out.
"Smell that."
"Turning right into fury now."
"If I wasn't darn full already." There were murmurs of pleasure all around him.

"If you haven't noticed, I gave blood only yesterday." He retorted aggressively. "I have no more to spare."
"All the more reason."
He made to pull away from the group and found their numerous tight grips on his arms kept him still.
"We're not going to leave you, brother. And there is plenty to share."
Someone cackled behind him. "Oh, so much to share."

One of them put their hand to his chest. He felt his feathers prickle as his skin beneath tingled.
"Relax."
"Take it in."
"Absorb it."

Considering the current absence of options to put up a fight, it didn't seem like too tall an order to comply. Mallard closed his eyes and did his best to allow his body to relax.

As he eased up, he could better sense the surge of energy filling the air around him. The dull ache that had plagued him for the last couple of days didn't seem to be so bad. When he decided it had to be his Vespers doing this, the understanding allowed him to relax even more.

Then there came a new voice filling his head. Different from any voice he'd ever heard. It echoed like a choir in his mind, singing in an etheral lilt of time and a life intranssient.

It took Mallard a moment to deduce where the voice was coming from. He opened his eyes, raising his vision to the branches above them. "The tree! I can hear it singing!"
"Yes, of course."
He pulled away from the slackened grip and the singing in his head stopped. "How did you guys do that?"

"You just did it too. For a moment, you did."
"Haven't you ever heard a tree sing before?" They circled him, slinking again.
"What did I do just then?"
"Communion, Darkwing Duck; plants are the experts. They do it all the time."
Richie cocked his head. "We make food for them. The plants feed on us."
"From the soil, to the air, to the water and back."
Mallard swallowed, shaking his head at this. "You've all had too much demon. You're drunk on it. There's no point arguing with me when you're all finishing each other's statements."
A woman, Veri? Or was this Chis? She half laughed; "yeah, you're right."

One of them clasped his shoulder. "Darkwing Duck ... in the feathers."
"What makes you think I'm Darkwing Duck?"
"Hoh-ney," Joss's voice cooed in benign amusement from somewhere to his left.
Clive reported: "You defeated the Xheklsit demon by letting it drop you into its array of razor sharp jagged teeth and burning acid saliva."
"There's only one person that'd do something that crazy and pull it off."
"And that's Darkwing Duck."

Mallard pulled away from them and looked at them all. "You're all animals." They gazed yellowly back at him. "You know that, right? The way you ... that was uncivilised, totally ... beyond barbaric, it was plain animal."
"We're in control of ourselves."
"Are you? Are you sure? Why am I not convinced?"

The vampires crowded around him again, their very personal attention on both the tree and him.
"Brother, you're so worn out."
"Let us feed you."

Backing up from the excessively clingy drunken vampires, Mallard banged against the tree. He looked up into the canopy, distracted in his rememberance of the oh-so-incredible sound of it. A sudden need took over like an ache in his body, a wishing desire; he wanted to hear that timeless voice of tanquility in his mind again.
"Relax."
He took a calming breath and felt his feathers prickle again as his Vespers once again hooked into the surge of energy around him.

And then the tree sang.