Writing Prompt: At first, they believe it to be a bad joke, but when more and more graves of people who haven't died yet appear in the graveyard, they start to panic.

Characters: Scrooge McDuck, Betina Beakley, Duckworth, and Glomgold Flintheart

Title: Demons on the Run Part 1

Word Count: Approx 2100

Scrooge McDuck sat at his desk, reading the paper. An actual paper. Not the news on one of those new-fangled tablets or on a web site. And if he ever couldn't read a real paper that had been printed that morning, then he would tear down the entire social media infrastructure or die trying.

Luckily he owned the only printing press in town, so he could always count on a fresh paper at his door every morning.

Mrs. Beakley was also in the room, dusting, vacuuming and waiting for him to finish his tea so she could take it away. She radiated a presence as if urging him to drink it faster so she could get on with her work, which never worked because Scrooge wasn't going to drink his tea slower or faster than what he always did.

And it was that scene that Duckworth floated in on in his demon form, looking far less formidable than he usually did. In fact, he looked down-right down-cast, which was not a good look for Duckworth no matter what form he took. And while Mrs. Beakley's presence urging Scrooge to drink his tea faster didn't bother Scrooge, the appearance of the ghost caused the temperature of the room to fall twenty degrees, and that caused Scrooge to look up.

"Ah, Duckworth. For a moment there, I thought my nephews had turned on the AC," Scrooge said, squinting at the thermostat in the corner. It still read the number he had set it at, and he was never going to budge on that number.

"Mr. McDuck, I'm afraid I have some…very bad news," Duckworth said, transforming back to his old form. He was still downcast, but he retained a sort of dignity in his humility.

"Bad news? How bad of news?" Scrooge asked with raised eyebrow. He hated getting bad news, especially at this hour of the day. He would prefer bad news after tea, and since Duckworth new this, it must be terrible news.

"I'm afraid there's been a breach of the ghost realm," Duckworth admitted.

"Ah, I was afraid that this might happen," Scrooge said with a roll of his eyes. "So, who was it? Who went in? Was it the boys? Lena and Webby? Please tell me it wasn't all the children."

"Ah, no, sir. It's not like that," Duckworth said. "Nobody went in. Something—or rather—some things came out."

"I'll get Donald and Della on it right away," Scrooge said. "They know how to wrangle a few ghosts, and it's about time they do something around the house. They can teach the kids. This will be good experience for them."

"No, not this time," Duckworth said. "It wasn't ghosts, spirits or spooks that got out. It was demons."

Scrooge had reached for his rotor-dial, land-line phone to dial Della's cell, but he stopped on the third number, the rotor slowly returning to zero. "Did you say…demons?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Duckworth said, looking apologetic. He may have apologized many times over the years, but this was one of those rare occasions that it showed on his usually-stoic face. "I don't know how it happened, but they somehow opened the portal and got out."

"How? You said nothing could open the portal except you," Scrooge said. "It's why I let you put one in my linen closet."

"I know. I have a few theories, but right now it's more important to find the demons than to ask questions," Duckworth said, dropping his hang-dog expression. He was now all business. "There is some good news. I had someone watching the gate on the other-side, and although they couldn't stop the demons, they were able to identify who they were. That should make it easier to locate them."

"I guess that is some good news," Scrooge said, not know how that helps.

Duckworth provided some insight. "Each demon has their own style in reaping lives and souls. It's a sort of calling card. We can keep an eye out for unusual activity around Duckburg and find them that way. We may even be able to predict where they be based on their routines."

Scrooge gulped down the rest of his tea and roughly set the cup down in the dish, almost cracking the china. "Alright, let's get to work. What should we do first?"

Mrs. Beakley was quick to whisk away the cup and saucer, both to keep the desk clean and to protect it from another outburst from Scrooge. However, she was never the type to remain silent for long, especially when she thought someone was charging into something ill-prepared.

"May I suggest that perhaps you gather some materials to protect yourself and fight off these demons," Mrs. Beakley said. "I may not be an expert, but I have done some research as of late. A ring of salt, iron, holy water, and certain herbs have been known to keep demons at bay and hurt them."

"I didn't think you had an interest in this sort of thing," Scrooge wondered.

"Let's just say that I've been preparing for such a day," Mrs. Beakley said, eyeing Duckworth. "You can't predict when you may need to banish a demon in a hurry."

Duckworth put on an aristocratic sneer. "I can't imagine why you should feel that way."

"Alright, you two," Scrooge said, wishing he could keep out of…whatever they called this. He wasn't sure if he could call it a rivalry, and if he said it was a "lover's quarrel" even in jest, he might end up on the other side of the ghost portal unexpectedly. "This is a serious situation. Whatever equipment you have that you think may help would be much appreciated. Duckworth, let's make a list of anything that Mrs. Beakley doesn't have. Oh, and let's send all the kids away for the day. I don't want them involved."

"I'm sure it'll be a long list," Duckworth said. "There's more to demon hunting than salt and holy water."

"I've got two water barrels filled with holy water, a mess of super soakers to fill them up with, flash granades filled with iron fillings, several dozen exorcism spells and three sawed-off shot guns with shells filled with rock salt," Mrs. Beakley said, leaning over Scrooge's desk. "And that's just for starters."

Oh, yes. Mrs. Beakley was prepared. When she wanted to learn about demons, she learned about demons. However, she wasn't going to admit that a majority of her demon-hunting equipment and training she received was while watching all fifteen seasons of Supernatural within a month while all the kids had been on a marathon of adventures with Scrooge.

Duckworth knew a challenge when he saw one. He was going to lay down so much demon lore on Mrs. Beakley, it'll make her head spin. Not literally, otherwise an exorcism was going to be needed sooner than they thought.

However, that list was never started. As soon as quill and ink set on paper for the first item, Scrooge's study-room door burst open and Glomgold Flintheart raced in.

"Scoogey, ya got ta do something," Glomgold cried out, belly-flopping onto the desk and grabbing his old rival by the lapels.

"How did you get in here?" Scrooge said. He was certain he had installed an anti-Glomgold alarm in his security system.

"Please, ya got ta help me. I don't want ta die," Glomgold wailed, as close to tears as Scrooge had ever seen him. And he had seen his fair share of Glomgold tantrums.

"Get away from me, ya ninny," Scrooge said. "Beakley!"

"On it, sir," Mrs. Beakley said, cracking her knuckles.

"No, don't throw me out. I'll do anything," Glomgold said, fighting like a fat cat at the vet to keep Mrs. Beakley from prying his fingers from Scrooge. "Ya have ta look at the graves. The graves. They're trying ta kill me."

"They're not the only ones, ya maniac," Scrooge growled, grabbing his cane and hitting Glomgold's fingers.

"Wait, sir," Duckworth said, having mulled over the pseudo-Scott's words enough. "I do believe that Mr. Flintheart is telling the truth and is in grave danger."

"Does it look like I care?" Scrooge shouted angrily. "Beakley, get him out of here."

"Mr. McDuck, this might be a calling card of one of the demons," Duckworth said. "I would like to hear Mr. Flintheart's story, if it be all the same to you."

Nobody had ever heard Duckworth speak like that. All three of the live ducks wrestling with each other became still and quiet. Eventually, Glomgold got off the desk and stood in front of the others as he told his story.

"So, there I was in the Duckburg cemetery. It's a Tuesday, and I always go to the cemetery every Tuesday to visit my old business partners," Glomgold started almost peacefully.

"Oh, that's very…human of you, Glomgold," Mrs. Beakley said, surprised.

Glomgold's peaceful smile suddenly turned devious. "Yes, and to dance on their graves and sing how I'm still alive and richer than they ever were. Wha ha ha ha ha ha."

Scrooge slumped in his chair. "Tell me again why we are trying to save this man's life."

"Perhaps we should contact Fenton's mother to investigate Glomgold's business partners," Mrs. Beakley said with wide eyes.

"Already dead," Scrooge said. "Believe me, they were all as old as dirt and went completely natural. And knowing Flinty, they went peacefully, knowing that where they were going, he wasn't going to follow."

"So, after I danced on their graves, I started back to my car to go home, but for some reason I got lost," Glomgold said, his voice turning from unbridled confidence to uncertain and fearful. "I thought it was odd because how could you get lost in a cemetery? It's literally an open field with a fence around it, but I found myself in a section of the graveyard that I didn't recognize. All of the tombstones were old and crumbling, there were bushes and trees all over, bending over me as if reaching for me. The sky was dark and filled with clouds, and I couldn't tell which direction was which.

"And that's when I saw it. Directly in my path was a brand new tombstone. And carved on it, was my name." Glomgold paused, gulping. He was sweating profusely at this point and trembling a little. "Below that, it had a date. The date was tomorrow. And I knew in that instant that the graveyard wanted me six feet under. It was going to have me no matter what."

He finished his narrative, wide-eyed and feathers much whiter than usual.

Scrooge listened to the story, and had to admit that the scenario was quite chilling, although it had a little bit of Charles Dickens in it. If only there was a moral squeezed in there for Flinty to change his ways.

"What do you think, Duckworth? Is it one of our guys?" Scrooge asked.

"Yes, that is definitely one of them," Duckworth said.

"Good news, Flinty," Scrooge said. "It seems that you're not crazy, at least not in regards to this. That was a demon, and we have agreed to take care of it for you."

Glomgold looked relieved. "So I'm not going to die tomorrow."

"No, Flinty," Scrooge said, keeping back any more quips. Teasing Glomgold at that moment felt like kicking a really ugly dog when it's down.

"Oh, thank you so much Scroogy," Glomgold said, wiping his brow. "Now, if you don't mind, I have some scheming—I mean—work I need to do."

"Wait a moment," Scrooge said, using his cane to stop Glomgold. "Demon-hunting doesn't come free."

"You want me to pay you? Are you out of your mind?"

"You want me to do this for free? Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm not giving you a cent. Not a single. Red. Cent."

"Then good luck exorcising your own demons. Now get out of my house. I'll see you at your funeral."

That gave Glomgold a moment to pause. "Fine. I'll pay you. How much?"

"Well, I'll have to print out an estimate," Scrooge said, starting to write some things down. "You'll have to pay each of us by the hour. And of course, there's an exorcising charge, a demon-hunting equipment rental fee, and temporary soul insurance. You're going to want that."

"What? You're over charging me!" Glomgold shouted.

"Oh, be quiet, Flinty," Scrooge said. "Just be glad I'm not charging you until after we get rid of the demon. If we fail, you don't have to pay us anything."

Glomgold smile. "Oh, what a relief."

"Because your soul will have been eaten."

Glomgold fainted.

(Author's note: I didn't think I would have another multi-part story, but I have no control over my imagination. I go where the prompts tell me to go. As with "Three's a Crowd" the next part to Demons on the Run will not be posted next, but it will come eventually. I want to have 31 stories, or parts of stories, by the end, and hope to have most up before Halloween.)