Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you don't know who The Night Haunters are?” Asked Gosalyn in disbelief as she offered him a hand.

He took it and steadied himself.

Huey was in the process of practicing his flying, and Gosalyn, having nothing else to do, had started watching him. So far, he hadn't embarrassed himself, not yet at least, but he was still struggling with the landings, and he would often end up in awkward positions, hence the helping hand. Not outright falls, but neither the perfect landings he wished to perform.

“I told you.” Said Huey distractedly, as he checked the angle on his wings. Was that how Poe had showed him? He couldn’t seem to remember now… “Dewey and Louie are the ones who know all about bands, not me.”

“Funny, I thought you'd feel identified, they dress up and everything,” she snarked.

She then showed him a picture where a trio of young adult ducks, dressed all in dark blue and with matching red bat wings on their backs, posed for the camera with menacing expressions and… Was that war paint on their faces?

Whatever.

They looked nothing like him.

Huey wasn't sure how he should feel about that, so he shrugged it off and set himself to try again.

He concentrated, extended his wings, and took off.

Everything went relatively well for a while; he tried slowly flying up and down at first, and then he even managed to fly closer to the ground. But he was still getting used to it, and his wings were still not strong enough to keep him up for extended periods of time. Just a couple loops around the mansion and his wings already felt numb and tired, so he went for a smooth landing.

He lined up with the backyard, where the tan duck was patiently waiting for him, following his every movement with her green eyes. Her gaze made him nervous. Had she really been watching him all the time? He figured she'd be looking at her phone, or something like that after getting bored. But no, her eyes followed him with precision, and her face denoted something akin to curiosity and wonder.

He spared a few seconds to think about it, but those turned out to be a few seconds too many.

Before he could realize what was happening, he had lost sight of his landing site, and ended up wrecking himself on the bushes just behind Gosalyn. He barely missed her.

He laid there for a few seconds, a heavy blush on his face, seriously contemplating the possibility of simply not getting up ever again, but destiny had something else in store for him.

A pair of warm hands grabbed him by the arm and helped him out of the bushes.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, a mix of concern and amusement on her face.

All he could manage as he brushed off leaves and twigs from his wings was a low, “I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?” She asked again, “that looked painful.”

“I'm tougher than I look, you know?

 He brushed it off, but felt awkward immediately after when she let out a giggle and rolled her eyes at him.

“Sure.”

He desperately tried thinking of any other subject other than his sloppy flying. He remembered her previous focus.

“What's so special about them anyway?” He pointed at her phone's screen, where the band was still in display, “they look pretty normal to me, just a little eccentric.”

Gosalyn took a moment to catch on, and tilted her head in confusion for a moment, as if she had totally forgotten the previous conversation. She looked at her phone and then back at Huey.

“Oh, they're actually not that special, just good music,” said she, suddenly awkward, “before he disappeared, my gramps gave me a few of their albums, said they were my fathers' before he and mom died...”

Realization set on Huey. He knew how that felt like, probably better than most. He didn't want to inquire about her parents, as she had only ever mentioned her grandfather, but he'd already asked about the band.

“So, um, you like them?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, “they're not my favorite, but their music is kind of nostalgic...”

It clearly held a special place to her, and he could relate to that, just like the lullaby uncle Donald would sing to them when they were little.

“Actually, they became pretty famous around the time I was born, gramps even told me my dad followed them before that,” she explained, “but they started going on tours all around the world, so I never had the chance to see them.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Nah, don't be,” she said, “I told you; they're not even my favorite band, probably on the top three, though.”

“W-well,” he said, and tried to think if she'd like to do anything other than watching him fall over and over, but felt against asking just that. Instead, he asked...

“Wait, don’t take this wrong, but why are you even here?”

Gosalyn laughed first, and then crossed her arms and shook her head.

“Yeah, Dewey was supposed to meet me here, but since he's nowhere to be found...”

Huey knew his brother had gone on his own flying lessons with their mom. The guilty look he made must have been just what she needed to confirm she'd been ditched, as she laughed again.

“...Sorry.”

“Come on, stop apologizing for things that are not your fault! I'm the one interrupting your practice anyway.”

“Right, it's just, he's my younger brother, I can't help feeling a little responsible.”

“Really?” She wondered, and looked genuinely curious, then smiled with mischief, “and don't worry, I'll find a way to get back at him for making me come all the way over here.”

He could only imagine what she had planned for his brother., but shrugged, preferring to think simply not think too much on it.

The encounter would have gone mostly unremembered on Huey's mind on most occasions, but something on Gosalyn’s expression had stuck to the back of his mind, accompanying him wherever he went. Maybe it was the way she talked about her missing grandfather, or the nostalgia that the music from the band produced, but he couldn't help but feel sympathetic for her.

It wasn't until a couple days later, as he was sitting in the couch with Louie, when he saw it.

“Wait, go back!”

Louie had the remote, and had been lazily changing channels without aim. He didn’t say a thing, and went back a couple channels as requested. The add was, thankfully, still playing. It was pretty loud, too, but it was them, alright.

Red wings, painted faces, and a screaming, obnoxious band on stage.

“Huh, I didn’t know you were into that,” said Louie with a mocking tone, but his brother didn’t say a thing. He was too busy by what the add was promoting.

The Night Haunters were coming to Duckburg; it was the last stop on their tour, before they broke up, they said. It was to be their last gig, and they were planning on going out big. Tickets were all sold off, of course, but…

“Should I start looking for a band with angels for me?” Asked Louie with a smile, and Huey rolled his eyes, his concentration finally broken. “What? There might be green angels somewhere…”

He turned back to the TV, but the add was done by then.

“Louie!” A voice called from afar, followed by running footsteps.

Dewey appeared behind them in a towel, feathers all wet, and looking very pissed. Huey and Louie shared a look of amusement, to then burst out laughing.

He was completely blue. All of him, not only his feathers, but his bill and legs too. There were even blue tracks from where had come from.

“Seriously? You did this?!”

Louie almost fell off the couch from laughter.

“Oh no, Dewford, I swear it wasn’t me,” he said in between chuckles, “but whomever did it has an amazing sense of humor, Bluey...”

But Dewey was clearly not convinced, and probably blushed under all the blue paint, not that they could see it.

“Not cool,” he said, and turned to walk away, “I’m telling mom!”

“Come on, I didn’t do it!” Louie gave chase, although he didn’t seem too worried, as he was still smiling. “Half the mansion are probable culprits!”

And it was true; just the other day, Dewey had gotten into an argument with May and June when he denied them entry to his show, for whatever reason, and the former had fumbled away bowing revenge. There had been no repercussions as of yet, but it was more than likely just a matter of time, knowing how she was…

“Yeah, right!”

Huey followed after his brothers; partly because he didn’t want it to become a thing, but also because he wanted to see the look on their mom’s face when she saw Dewey like that. She too had a great sense of humor, after all…

A week later, and Huey had all but forgotten about it; The Night Haunters were nothing but a blurred image by now at the back of his mind, and he was busy helping at the lab, anyway. Fenton had asked him to test his artificial world, and he had been more than happy to accept.

It was useful as practice, too…

In truth it had been his mom’s idea, not his, but even though he had been pretty scared at first, she had reasoned it couldn’t be nearly as terrifying as jumping from a plane with Ms. Beakley.

That much was true.

He had started flying to the bin, then; at first from the shore, and then, little by little, from farther and farther away, and finally, just that morning, he had flown all the way from the mansion for the first time. It was incredibly tiresome, as not only his wings, but his neck and back hurt as well after a long session of flying, and it was still a little scary to fly above the waves.

The scorching sun didn’t help either.

He had progressed a lot compared to when he first got his wings a few months past, but even then, for some reason he couldn’t manage a proper landing yet. But that was probably why he still had landed on the bushes, right? The tiredness and all that…

At least there was some progress to report, or Poe would have him doing laps around the mansion again, with a magical sword chasing after him, or something like that, as he had threatened last time.

He wondered how real could the threat be as he walked around aimlessly on Fenton’s world… It was probably an exaggeration, or his mom would be the one chasing him with a sword…

Suddenly, the scenery around him changed, and he was no longer exploring the enchanted forest Fenton had prepared for him. Instead, he was now standing in a darkened alley in the middle of the night. It felt very real, with cold wind picking up and a lot of tall buildings around him. It wasn’t Duckburg alright.

“Um, Fenton?” He wondered out loud, knowing his friend could hear him.

There was no response.

A loud crash had him yelping in surprise, but when he turned there was nothing but the remains of a broken bottle. Then, as he took a step towards it, he felt a presence behind him.

His instincts took over, and he turned in a flash and threw a blind punch.

It was dark, and he couldn’t recognize the figure, the only clear thing was that it had easily blocked the punch, but when Huey got ready to throw another, the figure brought its hands up.

“Whoa, calm down, Huey, it’s just a prank,” said a familiar voice, “I didn’t think you’d get so serious.”

He stood cold on his place, his fists still in front of him.

“…Gosalyn?”

“Yep,” said she, and looked behind him in wonder, “It still doesn’t get old watching them unfold…”

His wings had come out against his wishes, again, as they would often do whenever he got scared or angry. He didn’t like it, not one bit. So far it hadn’t led to any issues, but what if they came out at a really bad time? His family and friends were all used to it, but what if it brought trouble down the line? It’s not like they tried keeping it a big secret, as Duckburg had all kinds of people living there, and most of its citizens were used to the more… Extravagant ones.

But even then, not everyone would be as accepting, especially with his wings… He wondered if his brother would have a similar problem… So far, he hadn’t complained about it.

No matter, he thought. I can worry about that later.

He breathed once, then twice, and ushered them in.

It was getting easier, at least.

“How did you get in here?”

“Same as you, I guess, with the nerd goggles and everything.”

The scenery changed again, reverting to a lush, green forest, with birds singing and sunlight leaking through the leaves.

“Huh, the other place suited you more,” she mused, “especially with the wings and all.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Can we go back to the city?” She asked loudly, ignoring him.

Once again, they found themselves in the dark alley after a flash of light. This time there were even sirens and dogs barking in the distance.

“Can you stop that?” He asked loudly, mimicking her and getting frustrated, mostly at Fenton.

“No, wait,” she said, and took his wrist as he was reaching to take the virtual reality goggles off. “I actually have a reason for coming here,” she said, “can you show me the wings again, please?”

He sighed, but complied nonetheless, not really knowing why. His wings came out again, perfectly blending with the environment.

Red and Black.

“Whoa,” was all she said as she looked at them, and got closer, “this might actually work after all.”

“W-what?”

Huey took a couple steps back. She had gotten really close, and was inspecting his wings with a critical eye, as if she were comparing them to an image on her head.

“Right, sorry,” she motioned for the goggles and disappeared.

It took him a moment to understand and then he took them off as well and returned in a second to the real world. Huey gave a look around, but there was no Fenton to be found, instead it was Gandra the one standing on the control console. She didn’t look guilty at all, instead displaying an innocent smirk, too innocent to be real.

That makes sense, he thought, and then looked at his back. There were his wings, but…

“How can I even use my wings in there?” He asked Gandra.

“Fenton wrote the program just for you, it was supposed to be a surprise, so don’t tell him I showed it to you,” she said, he could almost not hear the threat on her voice, “it’s supposed to follow the ones in the real world,” she said, and walked towards the lab’s door, “speaking of Fenton, I better go after him before he messes up my coffee again.”

She soon disappeared in the elevator before he could say anything else.

“Weird…”

Gosalyn was still looking at him.

“What was that about?”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

He wondered what she could need from him. The image he had of her was of someone highly independent, after all, and she wasn’t the type to ask for help very often. Actually, he didn’t remember her ever asking for anything.

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, his curiosity piqued.

She smiled at him, and then walked to a bag on the floor, and produced some clothes.

“Can you try this on?” She asked, not looking at him, and throwing him something that he almost didn’t catch on the air.

Wait, what? Clothes?

It was a shirt, a very deep blue one, almost black, with unfamiliar markings on it. It was a little oversized for him, and featured pale blue lightning here and there at the front and the back. It even had holes at the back for the wings.

“What is this from?” He asked, but Gosalyn didn’t answer, instead she took of her jacket and put on another shirt she got from her bag.

This one was different from his, with a much brighter blue tone, and a winged skull painted on the front, instead of the lightning. The wings were bat like, much like his, except they were of a deep blood red, instead of his leathery black and bright red.

“How do I look?”

He didn’t know what to say.

“Nothing?” She asked, but he could only return a confused look, and when she saw it, her smile fell, “this is the emblem of the band from the other day… Remember?”

Ah.

“Oh, yeah,” thankfully for him, he had a good memory for names, “The Night Haunters, right?”

Her smile returned, and he smiled in return, as in reflex.

“Yeah!”

“I heard they’re coming to Duckburg for one last gig…” He said, mostly to himself as he remembered the add. Still, even with that, he did not understand. “But why give me one of these?”

“That’s what the favor is about,” she said, “I need your help to get the tickets.”

“Wait, what? My help? How could I even help you with that?”

Her smile turned mischievous.

Chapter Text

Somehow, he ended up following her all the way to McDuck Studios, where the contest was being held.

“Wait, why is it at McDuck Studios?” He asked as they stopped at the front.

“How do I know?” Said she, and shrugged, “ask your uncle…”

“Good point.”

He probably had some arrangement or something like that, sure to give him some money.

“Okay, now I need your wings out,” she asked, and when they were, she motioned for him to turn around, “thanks.”

Once he turned, he heard a tin can being shaken, and then, before he knew it, she was spreading red paint all over his wings with expertise.

“Whoa,” his wings almost moved by themselves at the sensation, “it tickles.”

“Try not to move,” said she, and then mumbled… “Just a second.”

She worked for a minute or two, her pulse steady, and then he gave a look at his new wings. They were now just like the ones on her shirt, a meaty red.

Then he paled.

“Please tell me this wears off.”

Why hadn’t he thought about it?

“No, why?” She stated in all seriousness, and held his stare for a few seconds before bursting out with laughter. “Relax, it will be gone by tonight… Probably.”

Good, that gave him a few hours to get rid of it, before anyone started asking questions. Or worse, taking pictures.

“I thought red was your color, anyway?” She giggled.

He let out a defeated sigh, and couldn’t come up with anything.

“I think you look good, Huey,” came an encouraging voice from the front seat.

“Thank you, Launchpad.”

“Anyway, why are you guys coming here?” He asked.

Huey gave him a blank stare. But of course… Gosalyn had simply walked up to him and asked if he could give them a ride, and then they were on their way at max speed, no questions asked.

“And… Are you guys going to take long? I was supposed to pick up Mr. Mc.D an hour ago…”

He shared a look with Gosalyn.

Great.

They quickly got off the car, and Launchpad took off in a hurry while yelling something about good luck. Well, more like in a normal manner for him. How did he even look like when in a hurry? Huey shuddered at the thought.

They looked at the cloud of dust he left.

“What now?” He asked.

She shrugged.

It took a few minutes, but they finally made it to the line, a very long line, of people wearing various types of costumes not unlike theirs. There were a lot of guys with wings, but they looked nothing like his, obviously. Some were big, while most were small, and they all looked fake and rigid.

None of them quite compared to his, though, and for good reason. His were the real deal.

He suddenly felt very self-conscious about his wings, and thought about retracting them, but that would probably have the contrary effect and attract a lot more of unwanted attention. Still, people stared.

A lot of people.

Gosalyn was oblivious to this, or at least, she seemed to be, and pretty much ignored them altogether. She led him to the back of the line and searched for something on her bag. Just how much stuff did she have in there? Not like he was one to talk, with how prepared he liked to be when adventuring…

“Okay, now I need you to help me put my costume on,” she said easily, and handed him a bunch of paints. There was a red and white one, and a number of different blues. “Here, like this.”

She showed him a picture of one of the band members; his face was painted blue and red, with bright blue lightning sprouting here and there, and bright red glasses that hid the eyes.

Alright, he thought, that doesn’t look very difficult.

Huey was great at manual work, and they had a lot of time, being at the end of the line. He looked intently at the image. Yeah, he could do it no problem.

“Wait, what’s with the white?”

“That’s for you.”

She showed him another photo; this other duck had glasses too, and his beak and cheeks were of a boney white, giving him a sinister look, as if he were a laughing skull smiling at the camera. The rest of his face was of the same midnight blue as the others.

He looked at it critically, and wondered again how he ended up in such a situation, but then again, his thoughts were not on the people around them anymore.

He got to work, carefully spreading the different paints on her face as she held her phone up for him. It didn’t take too long to finish the main job, and they slowly moved with the line. Then, he was on the little lightnings, gently painting them on her cheeks and around her eyes.

“There,” he said finally, “what about the glasses?”

She had them, of course, in her bag.

“We’ll put them on later,” she said easily, “now it’s your turn.”

He stood there for a moment, admiring his work.

They were now more than halfway to the entrance. Had so much time really passed? It didn’t feel like that to him.

“Come on, Huey, the line is moving.”

“Right…”

He gave her the paint, and stood there as she reached for his face. He hadn’t noticed before, too busy with his own work, but now that he simply stood there immobile, he realized; her hands were warm and soft.

It took even less for him, as his face didn’t require as much detail, and pretty soon he was staring at his reflection on her phone.

He didn’t recognize the Huey that greeted him back, though. He looked nothing like him, although it kind of looked like one of those old pictures of uncle Donald, back when he had long hair on his teens. He had been into a lot of bands back on his day, his mom had said, and she had showed them her hidden collection of old Donald photos, a side they had never gotten to see before of their uncle…

Still, Gosalyn looked more than satisfied with her own work, and they were then almost at the entrance. The sun had almost gone down by now, warmly kissing the top of the buildings around them, and he made a mental note to go straight to the gig when they were done with the contest.

“Alright, anything I should know?” He asked.

He hadn’t even gotten all the information about this whole thing.

“It’s just a costume contest, as far as I know,” said she, “don’t worry about it, just let me do the talking.”

“Okay…” He said, uneasily, but said no more.

“Oh right, almost forgot,” she said, and got the can she had previously used to paint his wings red, and sprayed her hands with the same color.

He raised an eyebrow, not getting the intent, but before she could explain, someone called her name from the door. It was their turn. He clearly had no idea what it meant, but then again, he hardly knew anything but the name of the band. He’d had liked to know more about them over all, but it was not like there was much time left anyway…

Things started off pretty well, with Gosalyn introducing them and making some comments as they stepped into the scenery. It was all according to the mood of the band, dark and heavy, and it reminded him of the alley from earlier, as well as how out of his element he was.

She kept talking, and it looked like things would keep on smoothly. Or they had been, until he stepped under the spotlight and realized the whole thing was being filmed! He politely asked if this was being filmed, only to be told that no, it was actually being transmitted at a national scale.

She hadn’t said it was going to be live!

Obviously, it’s being transmitted, Huey! He though. Why do you think the McDuck Studios are for, radio? Duh!

He could only hope that no one would recognize him.

“…Those costumes are simply amazing,” said one of the judges, as she approached with curious eyes. It was another tan duck, like Gosalyn, “those wings are just beautiful.”

She tried to touch them.

Huey jumped away on instinct. He didn’t even say a thing, simply taking a few steps back and trying not to move his wings.

“Ahem,” began his partner, “they’re very delicate, it took us a whole week to assemble them,” she lied, and Huey offered the judge a nervous, apologetic smile.

“Oh, sorry…”

The judge backed down, and then another one spoke, a green duck. The last one hanged back, just watching, and Huey could feel his eyes following his every movement.

“Your faces are on point, too,” said the second, as cheery as the first one, and Huey beamed at the compliment, feeling some relief for the first time, “These are some of the best we’ve seen today…”

“Glad we waited all this while, huh?” The first one joked, and the audience laughed with her.

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to leave early!” More laughter, and then some clapping.

At least the focus wasn’t on him anymore…

“Anyway,” said the green one, and the laughter died down, “I think it’s safe to say this qualifies you as possible winners. We still have to decide, though. Why don’t you wait at the back with the others?”

Huey shared a look with Gosalyn, glad that it was over, and then a smile.

He was about to turn away to step off the light when another voice called.

“Wait a second, please.” It was a deep voice. “You haven’t said a word.”

Huey locked eyes with the last judge, another duck, this one a white one, just like him.

“Oh, he’s just the silent type,” said Gosalyn quickly, “you know, just like Sev!”

There was some more laughter from the public. Huey had no idea who Sev was supposed to be, though. His heart rate increased.

“Why don’t you tell us what your favorite song is?”

Under the paint, Huey paled.

Gosalyn cleared her throat, “I thought this was a costume contest?” She asked sharply, although not rudely, eliciting more laughter from the public.

The judge didn’t laugh with them, though, and it quickly died down.

He shared another, quick look with Gosalyn, this time completely panicked.

“You didn’t ask anything from the others, though.” She stood her ground for the both of them.

“Come one, he’s just shy, let him be,” said the second judge with an easy smile, clearly trying to lift the mood.

This time, though, there was no clapping.

“I think it’s a fair question,” insisted the third one calmly, and then looked again at Huey, “unless you can’t even name one song?”

What should he say? He was not the type to conjure a convincing lie out of thin air like Louie! Come on, just one song!

“I can tell you all about them,” claimed Gosalyn, “their first album was-”

“No,” he cut her, “not you.”

Silence.

“I agree,” said the first judge, after a while, and then gave him a smile, “come on, it’s just a question, not an interrogatory.”

“This isn’t fair!” Snapped Gosalyn.

“It wouldn’t be fair to give you the tickets if you are not both fans of The Night Haunters,” said the third one, “your costumes are well made and detailed, and I’m sure you put great effort on them, but so did the others.”

Gosalyn still looked ready to keep fighting, though.

Huey locked eyes with the last judge, but even from underneath the red of his glasses, he could see the judge was not going to back down either. Not unless he gave him a name, and he didn’t have one.

An idea flashed through his mind.

Should he… Should he use his powers on them? Could he convince them of just letting it go? But what if it backfired? So far, he had kept it suppressed for as long as possible, worried that he could cause trouble for the people around him. He could try, sure, but what if he lost control? He was so nervous he could barely think, and he remembered Lena’s words and how his power could be affected by his mood.

No

Not only was it dangerous, but it wasn’t like him to do something like that either. Painting his wings was one thing, but taking the tickets from actual fans… It didn’t sit right with him. The pressure was too much for him, and he knew if he started lying the chances of being uncovered were more than high; he was a terrible liar, after all.

Huey grabbed Gosalyn’s hand before she could say anything else, and when she looked at him, he finally saw how mad she was. She really wanted in, but thankfully, the moment he shook his head at her she calmed down, and so did he in consequence.

She let out a defeated sigh and looked at the judges.

“Thank you for your time…”

And then they left.

They had already walked a few blocks away from the studios, silence hanging above them.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

She stopped dead on her tracks, and so did he, as he was still holding her hand. He hadn’t even noticed. Her face was a mix of conflicting emotions, but, after a few seconds, she closed her eyes and let out a tired chuckle.

“Come on, what did I tell you about apologizing for things that aren’t your fault?”

Ahh.

“But if it weren’t for me, we’d have gotten the tickets! If only I had made a little research about the band, or made something up -”

“No!” She yelled on his face, but then calmed down, her next words were soft, “no, Huey, it’s my fault. I didn’t even get all the details about the contest,” she chuckled grimly, “I didn’t think they might ask any questions, either…”

She smiled at him.

“Thank you, Huey, you really did a lot for me today.” She said with a sad smile. “I’m sorry for dragging you all the way into this mess.”

“Alright,” said he, “still, I’m sorry we didn’t get them, I know you really wanted to go…”

“Yeah,” she sighed again, “I guess I was so excited that I forgot you don’t even like them.”

“It’s not like I hated them either…”

She chuckled, but said no more.

They started walking again. Night was almost upon them by now, and they could see the arena where The Night Haunters would be playing tonight.

“Why didn’t you ask Dewey?” He wondered curiously.

“You mean he’s not mad for the whole…”

She pointed at her own face, still all blue, and he had to let out a hearty laugh at that.

So, it had been her, after all. He’d had his suspicions, but still, anyone could have done it, as his little brother had pointed out that day. Still, it was good to know she had gotten her justice.

“Good point, his feathers are still a light blue. Even though he spent a whole day trying to take it off!”

They shared a laugh at the expense of his brother.

“And besides, I wanted to go with you,” she said.

“Because of the wings?” He asked automatically,

“What?” She stopped again. “No, of course not,” she said, he could sense the hurt on her words, “we’re friends too, aren’t we?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, “I just thought you’d like to go with someone like Dewey, it’s kind of his thing.”

“I didn’t tell him about The Night Haunters, though.”

She hadn’t? He thought. Then why mention it to him?

“Oh…” Was all he could dumbly say.

Silence came again.

He had assumed she wanted his help specifically because of the wings, but now that he actually thought about it… She didn’t really need to, did she? She could have asked Lena to help her with magic, or Webby for advice on a convincing costume, or just gone with Dewey or anyone else, really… Even Louie would have lied trough his teeth back there.

But she hadn’t, had she? She had come to him.

Why?

Does it really matter? He thought.

No, not really.

Another idea popped in his mind.

“Come on, we’re almost there,” he hurried her.

“Where are we even going?” She asked as she ran after him. “I don’t know this part of town.”

Right, Gosalyn hadn’t spent much time in Duckburg… But it didn’t matter; he knew what he was doing. This part of town was easy to navigate, after all, and he had been at their destination a couple times before.

“Here we are,” he stated as they stopped in front of a tall building.

“You brought me to…” She focused on what said at the front. “McDuck Enterprises?”

She made a confused, deflated expression.

“Whoa, yeah, just what I had in mind to get my mood up.” He ignored her remark, and instead led her in. “Wait, can we really be here?”

They went into the lobby like it was nothing. He wasn’t even sure where the sudden courage was coming from, but he was going to make use of it for as long as it remained within him.

“Just follow my lead.”

Not many people worked at the main offices at such hours, but Huey was pretty sure they could simply pass without much trouble with his access card from the lab. It was probably illegal, but then again, if everything went according to plan, it wouldn’t be the worst thing he did that night.

They soon reached the elevator, and thankfully, there was no one to bar their way. They got in and he pushed the button for the last floor.

“What are we doing here?” Asked Gosalyn once they were at the very top of the building. “Whoa, it’s really tall…”

“This is Duckburg’s tallest building,” he explained, and she looked at him in confusion, “uncle Scrooge probably insisted on it.”

“Right,” said she, “I’m not following.”

He pointed at the brightest spot on the city that night, the arena. There was already some muffled music coming from there. She walked to the very edge, no fear at all, and he followed.

“Oh,” she said as she looked into the distance, “it’s a nice gesture Huey, but I don’t think we can see much from here, or hear, for the matter…”

“I know.”

He got behind her. Then extended his wings.

She immediately turned to face him, surprise all over her face, and then realization.

“No… Really?”

She spoke as if she couldn’t believe it. Perhaps she really couldn’t; he himself could hardly believe it. He had to hurry before he regretted it.

“You have a better idea?”

She casted another glance at the arena.

“Nope,” she said, and then locked eyes with him again, some worry on her face, “but, can you make it?”

He offered a hand.

“Guess we’re about to find out.”

She smiled with fierceness, and took it.

The moon was out by the time they neared the arena, illuminating the night sky above them, and for some reason it made him feel more comfortable. The sky above Duckburg was cold, yet there was little wind, not much more than a light breeze coming from the bay.

A perfect night for flying.

Although, he wasn’t exactly flying. It was hard enough to gain altitude on his own, and the extra weight made it almost impossible for him to gain anything more than a few centimeters of altitude at a time, and with much effort. Still, it was more than enough; his target was below him, and not very far, and he managed to maintain a good enough altitude and velocity.

But it was just then, when they were almost at their objective, when his courage evaporated.

Shit.

How was he supposed to land?

He could hardly land on his own, let alone with someone else tucked on his arms! But there was no backing out, it was too late for that now.

The arena had an almost complete roof, so it was not like there was no space to land, but it was still not enough to still his heart. Gosalyn must have felt it, as she tugged one of his hands with hers.

“Come on, Huey, you can do it,” she said lowly, almost in a whisper.

He didn’t reply, instead focusing.

He flew down, slowly.

He breathed.

They got closer.

In. Out.

Once. Twice.

And again.

Almost there…

The platform was so close he could touch it now, and then… Then he was standing on it. They were standing on it.

“I guess…” He said, “the trick was in the breathing, after all…”

He looked at Gosalyn, and then they started laughing.

“That was amazing, Huey, thank you.”

She said, and peered on the edge. The stage was right there below them.

“No… Thank you,” he muttered, although he doubted she heard him.

Below, the band was already playing, and beyond, a night none of them would ever forget.

Why had he even been so worried about landing in the first place?

Chapter Text

He’d been comfortably relaxing on his own by the couch. His mom had taken his brothers for some adventure he hadn’t cared to learn the details of; she had said something about a freezing tundra, and he had naturally declined, claiming his wings were too tired from last time.

And they were! It didn’t matter that his last adventure had been over a week ago, his wings were still tired after flying back and forth between Scrooge and Della as they used him as a mere messenger.

Well, maybe not so much already, but he wasn’t about to let the chance of a relaxing weekend slip off his fingers.

Truly, there was nothing, or better yet, no one, to stop him from watching TV all day. So, he had simply sprawled on the couch, wings out and everything.

That didn’t last for nearly as long as he had wanted.

“Louie!” Yelled Webby as she let herself fall from one of the vents on the roof.

He was used to it at this point, and didn’t jump at her sudden intrusion, but still he let out a sigh, knowing he was about to be dragged into something. Probably on the side of the supernatural, too, knowing Webby.

“Let me guess,” he took a sip of his pep, “you found another ghost?”

He didn’t bother hiding his annoyance at the undead, in general. He was done talking with dead people. Last month he had almost lost half a wing!

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” she waved it off, her smile didn’t falter for a second, “actually, I found a book!”

That sounded like regular Webby.

“…So?”

“So, it’s a very special one,” said she, and showed it to him, “here, look at this.”

Without any more of an explanation, she practically threw him the book in question. It was old and ragged, and the cover had some words inscribed in a language he couldn’t even recognize.

It felt heavy on his hands, more than it should.

He opened it with caution, but there was little he could understand. There were words in it, or at least what seemed to be words, but most of it were some kind of drawings or symbols.

“Let me guess,” he was mostly ignorant about magic, but even then, it wasn’t his first time seeing a book like the one on his hands, “these are spells?”

Her smile widened, if that was even possible.

“Yes!” She moved through the pages. “But these are not just any spells; these ones are of a very rare kind, straight from Iceland!”

“Okay, you just lost me, Webbs.”

Anyone else might have rolled their eyes at him. But not Webby. She looked so excited he was worried she might combust or something. She ignored his words, naturally, and launched an explanation.

“Iceland is famous, or rather infamous, for the abnormal amount of witches that sprouted all the way over there through the centuries. They go all the way back to when Vikings first settled there, and even continued and evolved after Christianization; they mixed parts of the old Norse mythology and spells with the new religion, and there were a lot of books and rituals done at the time. It’s an obscure subject, with some books even made out of skin and blood.”

Louie shuddered, he did not need to know any of that, and looked again at the book on his hands. The pages were thick and old, but nothing out of the ordinary. The ink, however, or what he hoped was ink, was heavily engraved on the pages, as if it had been placed there to withstand more than time and not fade at all costs.

“I still don’t understand what the big deal is,” he said, and offered the book back, “just more magic.”

“Nu uh,” she didn’t take it, and instead navigated him to a specific page, “this might make it more interesting for you, then.”

The highlighted page had more than words and spells, it had some art on it, too. A figure was painted there, cloaked in shadow and surrounded by flame, and with very little detail, but for the wings. Big, bat like wings extended from the figure’s back, while a halo of flames crowned its head, matching its also fiery eyes.

“Okay, I get it, it’s ominous,” he said, trying not to stare too much at the painting, “why don’t you show it to Huey, then?”

“Because he left with your mom, duh,” she finally took the book back, and it was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, “but I thought we could practice some spells before he came back!”

She said it innocently, but Louie could detect something else on her tone.

“You mean before he gets all scared and tells uncle Scrooge, who will lock it away from you, and anyone else, forever. How did you even get that? You know what? Don’t tell me.”

“Whaaaat, me?” She gave a sheepish smile, and then shook her head. “Come on, Louie, I know Poe has been teaching you magic, you have to help me with this!”

“And you also know uncle Scrooge almost had a heart attack when he saw me conjuring a little fireball,” he said, trying to sound genuinely concerned. It was hardly a heart attack, and more like a rant, he couldn’t be sure. “Why don’t you ask Lena?”

“She’s busy,” she said, “and Violet, too.”

“Your sisters?”

“Busy too.”

Come on! There had to be someone he could pass the ball to!

Alright, time to change tactics.

“Please, Webby, look at my wings, they’re almost grey with all the work I’ve been doing!”

It didn’t seem to have much of an effect on her, though; she raised an eyebrow, and her smiled warped into one of slyness.

“That’s just because you don’t clean them,” said she, and shook one of them to prove her point. Some dust fell off. “And if you don’t help me, I’ll tell dad you used your powers to find that dead guy’s treasure and didn’t share it with him.”

Ouch, she knew about that? He knew teaching her blackmail would eventually backfire. Alright, then, there was only one thing one could do when faced with such threats.

“Okay, I surrender,” he held his hands up as if to prove his point, “but when we die it will be entirely on you.”

She chuckled, then took his hand and all but yanked him from the couch.

“So, your room?” He asked as he retracted his wings.

“Actually, I’d prefer to be more discrete this time.”

“Sheesh, this book is that dangerous, huh?” She smiled nervously, but said nothing.

Meh, who cares, she’ll save me from whatever we summon anyway, he though.

“Oh, we could go to Lena’s old hideout!”

“Fine by me,” said he, and with that they were off.

By the time they made it to the amphitheater the sun was on its last hours of the day, as Webby had insisted on taking all kinds of materials and esoteric stuff with them.

“Where do you even get all that?” He had asked as she cramped who knew what into her backpack.

“Lena gets me most of it.”

“That too?”

He pointed at a very real looking skull sitting on the corner of her room.

“…Do you really want to know?”

“Nope.”

Webby was too Webby sometimes. Better to leave her be, he had thought then, as he helped her pack the rest of her stuff in a hurry.

“Now what,” he asked as they stepped into the old room beneath the stage.

“The book says we light some candles first,” she explained, and passed him the book, as if he could read it, “and then we draw a circle with salt for the demon to stand in.”

Of course, the image had been pretty explicit, and there was only one thing that came to Louie’s mind that involved wings and fire, but still, wasn’t it a little too much to go around summoning demons?

“I thought we were practicing some spells?”

“Yeah, that too.”

She started drawing on the floor.

“You know, one of these days you’re gonna summon something really big and we will all regret it.”

He put the book down on the floor and took a couple steps away from it.

“Nah, I have it under control, and I brought my axe, too.”

Not surprising, either… But how did she even fit all that in there?

No matter.

The circle was drawn, and Webby painted some kind of symbols around it.

“What are those words?”

“Not words, Louie,” she pointed at the open book by her side, “they’re sigils.”

He took a step closer to the book to give a look at the sigils, as she called them, but it was all the same to him. She had drawn them precisely where they were supposed to go. Whatever they meant, she was taking them seriously.

“You can clearly do this on your own, why do you even need me for? A sacrifice?” He half joked.

She wouldn’t… Right?

He received a punch for his troubles.

“Don’t joke with that. I can read and paint and chant, and even cast minor spells, but I lack the power, unlike you and Lena. Didn’t Poe explain it to you?”

“He said something like that, yeah, but I didn’t pay it much attention. Something about innate power?”

She rolled her eyes and went back to her runes, and Louie saw a chance for revenge, as small as it might be.

“Magic is wasted on you.”

“Jelly?”

She ignored him for the most part, but he could see her face twitching a little in annoyance, so he pushed on and casted a little light orb on his hand; it had been the first thing Poe had taught him and his brother. He rarely used it, except to sometimes light the way. After all, it was faster than using his phone.

“Here, some light for you.”

He was about to say something else, but before he could, the orb exploded on his hand, sending sparks all over his face and making him stumble backwards with a yelp. He fell back against Lena’s old bed and crushed it under his weight, and Webby laughed from her place.

“Okay, fair enough,” he tried to get himself out from the remains of the bed, but soon found himself stuck, “a little help, please?”

She helped him out and up.

“You should not play around with magic like that.”

“Says the one painting summoning runes on the floor of an abandoned theater, with candles and salt and a book made of who knows what.”

“…Touché.”

Soon enough, the last runes were in place, and they were ready for the spell, ritual, whatever…

“What if it escapes?”

“You show him your wings and scare it off.”

“So it all depends on my ability to lie? Got it.”

Overall, not a terrible plan; he’d done it a thousand times before, only not to a literal demon. But hey, if he could sell T shirts during the end of the world, then he could do this one thing, right?

“I’m starting to think you’re spending too much time with me, Webbs, who’s going to be the voice of reason now?”

She smiled, but said nothing, and offered a hand.

Everything was set; the candles were in place and lit, casting shadows that danced all around the room.

Always the drama with her.

He took her hand with a sigh, and she started chanting in a language he didn’t know.

For the longest time nothing happened; Webby chanted on her own, reciting some kind of verse time and time again, and he even thought that the book might be a rip off.

Yeah, right, maybe in another family.

But with his luck?

Suddenly, a gust of wind picked up around them, which should have been impossible as they were under the stage. The candles flickered and the room grew cold, so cold that he could see his own breathing in front of him.

Webby kept chanting as if nothing was happening at all.

The wind stopped, and the flames on the candles became so weak and thin that they should have simply died off. But they didn’t. They stood still, impossibly small, and the room grew so dark that Louie couldn’t even see his own shadow anymore.

The chanting stopped, and the darkness grew even more, then, unnaturally so; he could see nothing but the small ring of light made by the candles ahead. He couldn’t even see Webby beside him, as if they were enveloped in a bubble of shadows; he could only feel her hand gripping his.

Then he looked at the front again, and saw them.

A pair of eyes stared at him from the shadows, red and bright, and despite the darkness, Louie couldn’t help but feel exposed; he couldn’t see anything else beyond the eyes, but something at the back of his mind told him that whatever it was in front of him, it could see him as clear as in the light of day.

He held his breath instinctively, as if it were a wild animal in front of him, and tried to make himself as unnoticeable as possible.

“Who are you?”

A voice called from the shadows; it had not been more than a whisper, but he somehow felt the voice itself reverberating inside his skull, as if it were speaking right on his ear.

“You first,” said Webby, and the eyes moved elsewhere, to Louie’s eternal relief, “what is your name?”

The voice replied with a chuckle at first, before speaking again.

“Really? You think I’d be so careless?”

“It couldn’t hurt to try,” said Webby.

“What?” He asked, feeling left out.

“Knowing a demon’s name is a way to bind it,” explained Webby, “but you can at least give us a way to call you, right?”

“That will depend on how much you can entertain me,” said the voice, “if you last that long…”

“Great, it’s gonna kill us, are you happy now?”

“It can’t move from the circle, Louie,” she reminded him.

In the blink of an eye the presence crossed the few meters that separated it from them, far beyond its supposed boundaries, and stood right in front of them; the eyes were now so close that Louie could feel the being’s breathing. At this, Webby actually jumped back, dragging him along, but the presence didn’t give chase, instead laughing at them.

“Amateurs…”

And just like that, the room exploded in light; the candles lit with columns of some unnatural fire, pale and green, and the figure before them was revealed. It was a demon, alright, but not what he had expected. Well, he wasn’t even sure what he’d been expecting, to be fair.

She was a duck, much like them, and even looked their age, but that was where the similarities ended. Her feathers were a dark shade of red, darker than blood, and a pair of very familiar leathery wings hung from her back, coated in red and black. Her hair, black and wild, barely reached her shoulders, and a pair of horns extended from the top of her forehead. There was no tail, at least.

She took a step back, smiling playfully.

“Don’t you know blood is better than salt?”

Louie directed a look at Webby.

“Really?”

“What? You didn’t even want to know where I got the skull from!”

“Who cares about the skull? We shouldn’t be doing this on the first place!”

So Webby had skipped a few steps, great. They were still stuck with this demon for the time being, so Louie tried thinking of something.

Should he reveal his wings? No, what if she didn’t fall for his bluff? What if she actually got offended by his wings and wanted to fight? In the end he decided to take a much more sensible approach. He wasn’t in any hurry to fight some demon, that was for sure.

He offered his hand and flashed a smile of his own, as if he had known her all his life. Better to just flow with it for now.

“Louie Duck.”

She took his hand, her fiery eyes glinting with mischief, and he took the time to look at her again, this time more carefully. Her wings, unlike Huey’s, had a lot more detail to them; they were black, sure, except for the bones, which were red like his brother’s, but she also sported markings all over them, as if they were tattoos, also in matching red.

“A pleasure,” said she, “you may call me Zellia.”

He wanted to let go, but her grip was too strong, and she pulled him a little closer, as if inspecting him.

“I sense something about you…”

“Wait, what?” said Webby, “I thought we were summoning Beelzebub?”

Louie’s eyes widened, and gave her another, alarmed look. Hadn’t he heard that name somewhere in a movie or something?

“Ah, right,” Zellia let go of him and looked at his cousin, “dad’s been very busy, and he doesn’t answer to this kind of summons anymore.”

What? Dad?

“So, he sent you?”

“Oh no, I was kind of bored and sensed you calling for him, and got curious,” said she, “you never know what kind of mortals are behind the summon, although most of the time its profoundly disappointing.”

At least it is not such a big shot of a demon, though Louie.

“Where did you get the spell, anyway?” She asked.

Webby pointed at the book, still in the floor.

“Woah, that’s still around? I heard it had been burned like, two hundred years ago, at least. Guess it’s more cursed than I thought.”

The demon turned and walked to the book and picked it up, as if they were not even there.

“I know, right?” Webby was by her side in no time. “It has a lot of forbidden knowledge I couldn’t find anywhere else!”

“It’s all surprisingly detailed, too,” said Zellia, “even the warnings… Why did you even call in the first place? You want some kind of favor or power? That will cost you.”

“Oh, right!” Webby all but jumped with excitement. “I just have some questions.”

Louie just had to groan at that. Of course she wanted to pester the demon with questions. Couldn’t they play to the Ouija or something like that instead? But no, even that would be too light for Webby.

“Were you planning to unleash an army of demons now that you were at it, Webbs? Are you seriously that bored?”

“Hey, I spent most of my life locked inside the mansion,” she said as if he had offended her, “I won’t ever have a boring weekend again!”

“What’s so terrible about a boring weekend?!”

He’d have kept arguing, but Zellia’s laughter interrupted him before he could come up with something sassy enough.

“Alright, I guess you’re amusing enough. I’ll give you three free questions, alright? After that it will cost you.”

“You have no idea…”

Webby ignored him and beamed at the demon in front of them, and even produced a notebook from her backpack, filled with all kinds of possible questions.

Was it not the perfect time for him to make his exit?

He turned and gave a tentative look at the exit, now shrouded in some sort of mystical red mist.

Nope, still very much stuck.

Chapter Text

The demon turned out to be significantly more annoying than dangerous.

Well, at least in Louie’s mind.

At first, when he saw the mist preventing them from leaving, he thought she was going to be trouble, but she quickly explained it was in case they were trying to hurt her, and dispelled it with a sly smile. Still, as soon as he pointed it out Webby grabbed his arm with an iron grip, and he couldn’t tell if it was because she didn’t want him to leave, or simply because she was over excited to meet a demon.

Hence how he ended up in his current position; on his back, wings sprawled on the floor, and a reddish demon looming over him. Of course, he wasn’t in any immediate danger, as she was only teasing him. Again, he couldn’t tell whether to feel relieved or annoyed.

Probably both.

“Huh, that was surprisingly easy,” said Zellia with a triumphant grin, “never tackled an angel before.”

Definitely both.

She got up in a heartbeat and offered him a hand.

It hadn’t taken long for her to figure him out, that with Webby asking about demons and if they could have children with mortals as her first question. Zellia had simply looked him up and down, and then tackled him.

“Subtle, Webbs, very subtle,” he said as he stood up.

“Sorry,” muttered his cousin.

“But now I’m intrigued,” said Zellia, “what’s an angel like you doing with something like this?” She pointed at the book.

“Look, she dragged me into this,” he said, “I can’t even read it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, ignoring his words and taking a look at him, “huh, your wings are not as shiny as I’d thought.”

“Is it because his mother is mortal?” Asked Webby.

“Yes, very much so.”

“And what about his powers?”

Zellia’s eyes lighted up at the mention.

“Powers?”

“Yes, he can-”

“Alright, time out!” Called Louie before she could finish. “Webby, would you please let me handle it? Yes? Thank you.”

“Okay…”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, Zellia, but I don’t feel comfortable sharing all of this with you,” he said, carefully examining her face. She gave nothing away, remaining impassive as he spoke, but he had caught on her earlier look, and now wondered if he could turn the situation on his favor. So, he simply added… “At least, not for free.”

At this she smiled bigger than ever.

“Fair enough,” she said, “but what’s stopping me to just forcing you into telling me whatever I want? Your summoning was terribly unsafe and amateurish, and you are clearly no match for me.”

In less than a blink she was in front of him, again, but he didn’t flinch this time.

“Me? Nah, I’m like, super weak,” he admitted with a smile of his own, and pointed at Webby, “but she? She’s Webby McDuck.” Zellia’s face contorted at the mention of the name. Good, he could work with that. “I bet even you have heard of her father.”

“I don’t see him around, though.”

“Oh, forget about him… But she? She helped stop Ragnarök, you know? She’s fought all kinds of monsters and demigods!”

She studied his expression for a few seconds, yet he made sure his face gave nothing away.

“You’re bluffing.”

He had her.

“Then why haven’t you attacked us yet, hmm?”

There was no way she-

She lunged at him.

He was not expecting that.

In just a moment she had crossed the few meters that separated them; she held his face in one hand, and even lifted him up a little, forcing him to stand on the tips of his feet. He could see her eyes burning, and she flashed him a smile full of teeth.

Okay, he might have pushed his luck a little.

It didn’t last long, though, as a moment later she had to jump away to avoid an ax to the head.

“Thank you, Webbs.”

“Any time.”

Zellia stood by the entrance, as far away from them as possible in such a small room; the tattoos shone in bright red against the black of her wings, now extended to full length. She looked at them both, as if weighting weather it’d be worth it to take them on. Apparently, it was not, as she relaxed her posture after a few seconds.

“Alright, you proved your point,” she sighed, “but you also said not for free, so how about a deal?”

“Sure, why not?”

He took a step forward, and showed a hand.

“Louie!” Called Webby, worry in her voice.

“Hey, you got us into this, at least I’m getting us out.”

This was way better than trying to fight her. He had Webby on his side, true, but who knew what kind of skills the demon might possess? Huey could only affect people’s minds, as far as they knew, but that was just one of several possibilities. Not to mention this one was the real deal.

His cousin sighed, but held her tongue, allowing him to continue.

“Your terms?”

“Nothing special, we just trade information, you ask me questions, and I ask you questions.”

“That’s… It?”

“Well, yes,” she tilted her head, “what, were you expecting me to claim your soul, or something like that?”

“Pretty much, yes.

“That’s so old fashioned…” She rolled her eyes. “You sound like one of my uncles.”

“Sorry, it just sounds too good to be true.”

“Alright, then how about I also swear not to hurt you in any way as long as you feed me.”

That threw him off.

“Wait, what? Food?”

“Yeah, back home at everything tastes like chicken.”

“I… What?” He considered her words. There didn’t seem to be a catch or anything. “You know what? Whatever, that’s good enough.” He fully extended his arm. “Deal.”

She took the offered hand, and shook it twice.

“Deal.”

The flames on the candles, which were still burning on the forgotten summoning ritual, lit up all the way to the roof in a spectacle of blue, deep and dark, yet all he could feel was a numbing cold invading the room. In just a second, the candles burned out completely, and they were again left in darkness, and all Louie could see were Zellia’s red eyes in front of him. He couldn’t see it, but he was absolutely sure she was smiling at him.

He smiled back.

The first thing Zellia did when they exited the old room underneath the stage was to take a slow, deep breath of night air into her lungs. The moon hung up above them already, illuminating the beach.

“Finally, some fresh air.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty damp down there,” said Webby.

“No, I mean back home. It’s so hot, and in my family there’s always someone up to something. Just being here is… Refreshing.”

Webby gave her a look, clearly not relating. Louie chuckled.

“So, should we go somewhere else?”

“What’s wrong with here? You just said you liked it.”

The demon gave her a wolfish smile.

“You still owe me a burger.”

“Oh, right.”

She started walking away, but no one moved to follow her.

“What is it?”

“Are you going to walk around town like that?”

Zellia looked at herself and chuckled, to then slap her fingers.

A circle of pale red light appeared on her feet, and then enveloped her. A couple seconds later, her black robes had been replaced by a light grey sweatshirt and black shorts. Her feathers lost all color, too, matching their white, and her demon wings retracted just like Huey’s would, leaving no trace of their existence behind. At the front of the sweatshirt was a little black fly.

“How about it, huh?” She made a lap where she stood to show off. “You wouldn’t think an innocent looking girl like me is a demon, would you?”

“Not really, no,” said Louie, still picturing her on her previous form.

They walked into the city, to a place Louie knew well from the time he and his brothers lived with their uncle, not far from the beach. A family restaurant, usually filled with people on the weekends. The place was almost deserted by the time they sat down and ordered.

“This is so good,” said Webby as she ate her burger.

“I know, right? I hadn’t eaten one in ages!”

“Can I get another?” Asked Webby. Zellia, meanwhile, was on her fourth.

“Sure,” Louie limited himself to munching fries, “why not.”

They were eating with Scrooge’s money, although he wasn’t that hungry to begin with.

Things had ended up well enough, all things considered. He wasn’t one to go around looking for danger just for the sake of it, but now that he looked at their new companion, eating burgers as if she had been starving, she didn’t look nearly as dangerous as an hour ago. Still, he reminded himself not to forget what she was, and how easily things could go south.

Just then, he realized how Zellia’s eyes were all over him. Even as she ate, she analyzed him.

“How old are you, again?” She asked.

“Fifteen,” he frowned, “why?”

“Fifteen… 2007, then?” She mused to herself. “Hmmm, what could have an angel been doing all the way over here? They’re supposed to be all detached and cryptic…”

“Is it so rare?” Asked Webby. “A book we found said there were recorded cases, but it was very vague…”

“Very, both for demons and angels… And for it to happen with twins…”

Webby and Louie shared a concerned look, and Zellia smiled.

“I sensed something odd about you the moment I saw you, and when McDuck over here asked if demons could have children with mortals, I was sure you were part angel. But why ask about demons?  So, I’m guessing you have a twin.”

“Triplets, actually.”

“That’s even more interesting!” She said hungrily, “what about the third one?”

“Normal, so far, If you can call him normal… My turn. Why ask about my age? Do you know the angel that-”

The next words died on his beak before they could even form. Why was he so interested on it out of a sudden? He didn’t care about the guy.

“Never met an angel before,” said Zellia, “but your brother’s father? That’s much more likely.”

Webby almost shot up from her place.

“So you know who he is?!”

“It’s too early to say for sure, especially since that year there were a lot of demons around here… There was something big going on.”

“You weren’t there? Why?”

Zellia kept silent for a moment.

“I’m… Kind of not supposed to be here at all.”

“Wait, what? I thought you said you sensed us calling for the other demon?”

“Yeah, well, that was partially true… You see, things get so boring at Pandemonium, that I decided to snoop around through his stuff for something interesting, and you guys just so happened to be calling and no one was answering and it was such a good chance to pass up!”

“Great,” buffed Louie, “should we expect a legion of demons to burst through the doors any moment now?”

“Nah, it’s not like I’m prohibited from coming or anything,” she said, “dad just said I’m too young, but he didn’t explicitly say I was to remain home, and I was answering a summon, so...”

“Somehow I don’t think he’ll care about technicalities.” Said Louie. What was he supposed to do with a runaway demon? Could he even do anything at all? “When do you think he’ll notice?”

“Not sure, but I don’t think we have to worry about it,” said she, while stealing a handful of his fries, “we made a deal, remember? He can’t just show up and break it, and I can mask my presence for the most part, anyway.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Webby, “if demons are so common here, then how come it’s been so hard for us to find one?”

“Because of the big thing I mentioned before.” On the last of her fries by now, she was again eyeing Louie’s platter for spoils. “It’s not supposed be official, but-”

Just as she finished the last fry on her hand, the front door was kicked open, and a cloaked figure stepped in. It was dressed on pure white robes, a little on the eccentric side, but nothing too crazy, either. This was Duckburg, after all.

The figure walked up to them, and drew a golden sword.

Still not the craziest to happen on town, but the reason behind it was pretty obvious by then.

“You there,” it said, “come with me.”

“Rude,” complained Zellia, “and I’m not done eating.”

There was nothing left on their table, though, yet she regarded the newcomer with indifference. Louie sneaked a look around them, but was surprised to find no one but them four. He could have sworn there were more customers around…

“I wasn’t asking.”

The sword was then pointed at her, and Louie could feel warmth emanating from the blade. The girl rolled her grey eyes.

“Then maybe you should, hmm? And be more polite now that you’re at it, will you?”

“Enough, by the authority of-”

The figure jumped away, avoiding the strike on the last moment. Zellia was now standing in between them and the intruder, a black spear on her hand. The spear looked simple enough, just a rod with a pointy end, completely black save for a little red spot.

Blood dripped down the tip.

“That was a mistake,” said the figure, “but thank you for proving my point.”

“Me? I’m simply protecting my dear friends,” said Zellia with faked innocence, “you come and threaten us, and with such a poor disguise, too. Why, I wonder if you should even be here to begin with?”

“You break the accord-”

“I did no such thing, I was summoned. But what about you? Does your daddy even now you’re here?”

“Enough!”

The figure stepped forward again, wielding the sword forward in a polished stance. The hood went down, as well as the heavy robes clinging to its body, revealing a pristine white duck with a little cut on the cheek and long hair that fell down her back. She was taller than them, too, and dressed in a light blue tunic, reminding him of Lena on her sorceress form. Her eyes were golden, which also reminded him of the DeSpells. Only the irises were golden, though, unlike the sorcerers, and the rest of the eye was normal.

But what really caught his attention were her wings… Unlike his, her wings shone with golden specs here and there, coloring the tips of some of the feathers and generating warmth. As if giant white wings were not flashy enough…

“You will come with me. And as for the mortals…” The girl’s gaze connected with Louie’s for just a second, and he noted how it was loaded with nothing but contempt, as if they were not even worth her thoughts, before settling back on its counterpart. “Their judgment can wait.”

At the other side of the table, he spied how Webby gripped the handle of the axe, hidden inside her backpack. Ready for anything, as always. Things were about to escalate, he realized, and who knew just where they might end at.

So Louie did the first thing that came to mind, maybe not the smartest, but the one that was sure to have the biggest impact, and jumped in between angel and demon… And extended his own wings to their full length.

There was a little zap on the air, Louie almost didn’t notice it, though.

The effect was instantaneous; the angel before him took a couple steps back, completely shocked, and even dropped her guard, the tip of her golden sword scratching the floor as its wielder staggered back, as if stricken by lightning. He took a step forward, and she retreated further.

“Y-you…” Was all the new girl managed to say, and almost tripped.

It felt like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple seconds. Seconds which Zellia took full advantage of; her wings propelled her towards the exit, and in the blink of an eye, she flew beside him, brushing the tip of his wing with hers, and was outside the restaurant in no time.

She didn’t even look back, and just a second after getting clear, her wings carried her into the night.

The angel’s eyes snapped, and her gaze jumped from him to Webby, to then search for the demon in a mad dash. She regained her stance for a moment, to then drop it again and turn around, bolting for the door in pursuit of her fleeing prey.

But just as she stepped outside, she casted one last, conflicted look at Louie, as if making sure what she was witnessing was the real deal, before taking off without another word.

Quietness took over, then, and it took them a while to break the soporific silence.

“Well,” said Louie, “that’s definitely not coming back to bite us later.”

He turned and looked at Webby. She had her phone out, and held it in one hand, while the other still gripped the hidden axe.

“That was so cool!” She shrieked. “I didn’t think you’d protect Zellia!”

He could have claimed otherwise. Say he was actually protecting her before she could get into a fight she might not win, but why argue with Webby? She had that look on her eye that said she wasn’t about to drop it.

“Are you happy now?” He asked as he sat again, and went for a fry. There were none left.

“Well, yeah,” she answered, typing away as if her life depended on it. Better not to ask. “That was very insightful, and we got a lot more information that I had even hoped for.”

Don’t ask. Just don’t ask…

“Just to be safe, what were you expecting?”

“Oh, I thought the demon would try to kill us the moment it stepped into the circle, or something like that,” she said, “but your way was way better!”

“You just wanted to pick up a fight, didn’t you? That’s why you did the circle with salt…”

She gave him an innocent smile.

“Whaaaat.”

“Really, Webbs, when did you become so reckless?”

But his cousin didn’t answer, instead she was focused on her phone.

“Hey, Lou?” She asked. “I was too busy recording at the moment and didn’t notice, but have your eyes always been… Like this?”

She passed him the phone.

Sure enough, there he was on the video, looking at the camera just after the angel’s retreat, with his wings extended, and his eyes…

“Wait, what?”

His irises were now colored gold.

Chapter Text

It was a big house. Big and old. Built decades and decades ago at least, if not more. Not as large as the mansion the Ducks were used to by now, but still very big indeed. Three stories high, attic, basement, and an unusually big and overgrown greenhouse.

It sat engraved in a hill, overlooking the town. The person behind it certainly had good taste, as the house was perfectly placed to receive the sun every morning. The place itself was beautiful and enchanting by itself, if a little wearied down by the pass of time, and it looked surpassingly clean. At least, that is, for a haunted house.

And it was not as one of those houses that are merely rumored to be haunted, no. There was always one of those every one or two towns. Della knew better. This place was really haunted. Not only because every time someone settled down on it, they didn’t usually last any more than a few nights before running off into the night, nor because of the supposedly terrible rumors and stories that surrounded the property’s obscure past.

No, it was that feeling that only some places gave, one she was used to by now, but not for that it was any less unnerving. The feeling of being watched, and the sensation of danger that crept up her back.

There was also, of course, the very real, and very angry ghost that was currently charging towards her just a couple hours into the night. So, there was that too.

The ghostly figure rushed her, although Della knew better than to turn tail so early in the adventure. Besides, she had to show some face for the others. How would May and June react at their brave aunt screaming in terror at a mere ghost? Well, she wasn’t finding out tonight. She stood her ground. It was a fifty-fifty chance, really, that the ghost might not hit her, but it paid off, as the apparition stopped right in front of her, and then passed through a wall, screaming and whining.

“Whoa,” said June. The reaction was precisely the desired one, as the twins beamed at her with excitement and wonder, “that was so cool, aunt Della.”

She grinned with pride.

“You follow my lead and this ghost will be gone in no time.”

It was the three of them, as well as Dewey, who had run off to explore the attic. It had been especially difficult to convince these two’s parents to let her take them with her, so Della intended to make as much of it as possible and have lots of fun with her nieces.

“Yeah!”

They had arrived in this little town from Duckburg only a few hours ago with the mission to clear the house from any possible ghosts, a task set by her uncle, although she didn’t wait to hear his explanations. He could take ages sometimes, and she needed to be on her way before Donald forbid the girls from coming with her. Thankfully, the fact that she was also bringing Dewey along helped soften her brother’s resolve. That and the puppy faces the twins made at him.

The ghost didn’t seem capable of physically harming them. That was good. However, she knew for experience these beings didn’t employ such direct methods often, so she wasn’t surprised when objects started flying over their heads, crashing into the walls and windows.

“Look out, these things can-” She turned to warn her nieces, but they were already avoiding the projectiles with ease. “Right.”

“How do we stop it?” Asked May.

“We don’t know any magic that can neutralize it,” said June, “should we call for backup?”

“We should have brought Louie with us…”

“And whose fault is it that he doesn’t want to get anywhere near ghosts?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault he couldn’t dodge the-”

“Ahem.” Della cleared her throat. “In my experience, ghosts are usually bonded to something physical; an object.”

“But there’s nothing here,” complained May.

“Just furniture.” Agreed June, and they weren’t wrong.

They heard crashing and trashing above them. They rushed to the attic, but just as they approached the stairs, Dewey came tumbling down. She caught him before he hit the floor.

“I think I pissed it off,” he said.

“How did you know the possessed object would be up there?” Asked Della.

“…possessed what?”

“Never mind,” said May as she moved up the stairs, but just as she was about to put her feet on the attic, the door closed on her face, “ouch.”

She came back down while covering her face.

“Any other great idea?” Asked Dewey while rolling his eyes.

Della noted how these two in particular didn’t seem to get along as well as the others.

The yellow duck, not let slide a provocation like that, stepped forward, the pain on her face clearly evaporated, even though her forehead was all red. Della tried to think of a way to defuse the whole thing, but her other niece beat her to it.

“Yeah,” said June, at the same time she grabbed her sister’s hand, keeping her in place, “how about we climb from the outside?” She proposed. “There’s a window, right?”

“Yeah, I also saw some skylights when I was there.” Agreed Dewey.

“Too slow!” Called May as she ran downstairs, the other two not far behind.

“Teenagers…” Della talked to herself, and shook her head. She then felt weirdly uncomfortable. “And now I sound like Scrooge, ugh.”

She followed, while trying not to feel too old.

They made it to the roof without much trouble, they opened the skylights and got in. Thankfully, Della knew Scrooge would cover all the damages… Probably. The problems began when they set foot on the attic itself, as things started levitating around them.

The place was big, just as the rest of the house, but it was cramped with old furniture, boxes, and all kinds of stuff, so it was difficult to move around. There was also no light, as night had already fallen, and this old place had no electricity up here. They were forced to use their phones.

“Now what?” Wondered Dewey as they all hid behind some boxes.

“We find the possessed item and get out of here,” said June.

“There must be a billion things here,” he complained.

“Then we better hurry,” said Della, as she pointed at the mist forming above them, “I’ll distract it, you-” before she could finish, the three teenagers jumped away and started calling the ghost names.

It started chasing them all, sending boxes flying all around the attic, but they were too fast and agile, and hid here and there, diverting its attention from Della, who simply stood there watching, completely ignored by the phantom.

“Guess I’m the one searching…”

She got down on it, opening boxes and going through all kinds of antique stuff. Photos, memoires, books and more books… Nothing there seemed to be what she was looking for, so she moved on to opened some more, this time filled with clothes; hats, boots, shirts, dresses and shirts. She must have been going through it for the better part of an hour, all the while she heard the children relentlessly taunting the ghost.

That was, until she stumbled upon an old piece of furniture; a big, old dresser with a looking glass and a handful of drawers.

Della stood there, looking at her reflection for a while, seemingly hypnotized by something, something she couldn’t place. Most of the time she avoided looking at any kind of reflection of herself, but this one… This one seemed different. An image flashed through her mind; an old reflection, some twelve years ago, wounded and stranded on the moon. Long hair, ragged jacket, lost gaze and down to one and a half leg…

She shook the nightmare off her mind. She had to focus.

She opened the first drawer, but funnily enough, there was only another, smaller looking glass greeting her. She closed it quickly and opened the next one. A small book- no, a journal of some kind. She placed her hand on it for just a second, but decided it was not what she was looking for. Still, she took it and hid it in her jacket, thinking it might come in handy later on.

She went for the last drawer.

A doll.

There was nothing but a little doll, small enough to fit in her hand, a cute duck dressed in some sort of antique dress. It looked older than life, yet, somehow familiar. She took it and held it up, examining it. It was old, yes, but in perfect condition. Maybe she could-

“Mom, look out!”

Instincts kicked in, and she ducked to a side and into a pile of opened boxes, the doll tucked close to her chest. Not a second later, and there was a piece of wood sticking right through the middle of the looking glass, just where she had been standing.

The ghost floated there. Just like before, it was no more than a formless, glowing white mist, only there were now a couple of angry red eyes staring back at her.

Jackpot.

The phantom let out a shriek and the boxes around Della levitated. She got up and ran, boxes flying past her and spilling their contents on the floor. Just before she made it to the stairs, one of the boxes hit her straight on the back, almost making her fall face first on the wooden floor. Thankfully, it was filled with nothing but dresses, so she managed to open the door and flee the scene.

It wasn’t until she managed to stop herself at the end of the stairs that she remembered the children.

Shit.

She turned around to see if they were behind her, only to find a couple of red spots moving down the stairs. Well, if the thing was chasing her, then at least the children would be fine.

She turned and bolted, trying to remember where the damn exit was. She found the stairs to the first floor, and heard the ghost chasing her, trashing stuff along the way. She made it to the door…

Then nothing.

She stood there, waiting for something to happen, but the only sound out there were the footsteps of the children coming down.

“Where’d it go?”

“I don’t know…”

“You think it’s gone?” Wondered June.

“That easy? No way.” Said her twin.

“Easy?” Said Dewey, full of scratches and out of breath.

“I guess this is it,” said Della, and showed them the doll.

“Huh, really?” Her niece took it. “It doesn’t seem that cursed to me.”

“Nah, it’s a doll,” said Dewey, “those are always super cursed.”

“Anyway, that thing’s still out there,” said May, “we got the doll, now what?”

Della wondered the same. How could they trap this thing? She wasn’t a big fan of magic, but some of it would really come in handy at a time like this. Hence why she tried to bring at least one of her two magical sons with her to adventures such as this one, or Webby. But that wasn’t possible this time, and she had to think of another way…

“Maybe if we destroy the doll?” Wondered June.

“It might get freed, that would make things harder,” countered May.

“Then let’s just take the doll and stuff it in The Other Bin,” proposed Dewey.

No one said anything. It didn’t sound too bad.

Suddenly, the house’s walls started creaking, as if the place itself were against the idea of them doing anything to the doll. Doors and windows started opening and closing by themselves, and the lights, those that were still functional, flickered here and there. Even the chandelier hanging above them seemed to be vibrating.

The ghost materialized in front of them, still a mist with angry eyes. It spoke for the first time, a spectral voice that overlapped and bounced around the hall.

“Others tried to exorcise me before.” Every word was like a needle inside Della’s brain. “They all failed.”

“Do I look like an exorcist?” She asked. “I just want you to go to a better place, preferably away from here.”

It was partially true. The ghost didn’t need to know about The Other Bin’s real nature. The phantom roared and trashed its surroundings, yet it didn’t attack, as if it didn’t dare threaten the doll.

“Come on,” Della pressed on, “what will you do? The town’s people are done with this place. What will you do if they decide to tear it down? Or burn it?” She was lying through her teeth, of course, she didn’t know anyone from town.

“I will not allow it!” It shrieked.

“Just come with us, then,” Della offered the doll, “come with me.”

Della wasn’t very knowledgeable about ghosts and the occult. She had fought her fair amount through the years, sure, but each one had its own trick and most of the time she would just improvise. She concluded that if she managed to make the ghost possess the doll, then it would be easier to manipulate and move around.

The ghost didn’t talk back, and instead charged again at them. Della had a hunch, and held the doll in front of them. The spirit stopped before hitting her again, screamed in her face, and disappeared towards the kitchen.

“At least it can’t attack us,” sighed Dewey.

Della heard a metallic creaking above them. She didn’t dare look up, and instead pushed all the children away and put herself above them. Just a second later, the chandelier fell to the floor where they had been standing, completely ruined.

“Please stop talking,” pleaded May from her place beneath her sister.

Della was done by this point. She wasn’t going to let that mist or whatever keep targeting them. She got up and marched after it, the kitchen was only a few doors down the hall. She was would fight it with her own hands if it was what it took.

The moment Della wandered into the kitchen she was immediately received by a flying chair, as if it could read her intentions. She ducked and heard it crash somewhere behind her, and just a moment later the door closed.

“Give it back!” The mist formed again in front of her.

“You keep attacking my kids and I’ll burn it right in front of you.”

“Don’t you dare!” The mist enlarged for a few moments, enveloping chairs and silverware and making them float. After a few seconds, it retreated, and the furniture clattered on the floor. “What do you want.”

“You, out of here.”

“This is my home.” It claimed furiously. “You come uninvited, trash my house, and expect me to leave?!”

“You are dead.” She stated. “For how long I don’t know, but this isn’t your place anymore.” She held the doll towards it, as if it were a shield. “Just come with us. Come with me.”

The ghost stayed silent. Della didn’t dare make a move, knowing it was thinking of her words. Could she really convince it to come with her? Man, she really missed Louie at times like this. Not only because his particular set of abilities, but because he always knew what to say. She was sure had he been here, he would have already come up with a solution, he was especially good at seeing danger coming their way before anyone else.

“You have children.” Spoke the ghost, it didn’t sound as formless as before. It didn’t hurt just to hear it talking. “I had children, too.”

Della didn’t know where it was going, but she figured she might as well play along.

“I do,” she said, “three, actually.”

“Three?” It wondered. “I had only one.” The mist floated a little closer. “It was hers.”

Della looked at the doll in her hands. Should she ask about its children? Or would it be like stepping in a mine?

“I love my children,” was all she could say.

She could hear the kids banging on the door. They were calling for her, but she couldn’t move her eyes away from the two reddish orbs before her.

“So do I,” it said, “but she’s long gone.”

Before she could comprehend the meaning of the words, the mist floated towards her hands. Della held the doll up and closed her eyes, hoping it would work. The mist surrounded it for a moment, as if it were considering it, judging it.

She felt funny, as if she were numb, dozed. It tickled, and made her feel tired. She opened her eyes and saw the mist had expanded, and some of it was on top of her. She tried waving her hands around, making it slowly dissipate, as if it were truly gone. She hoped it was.

“Gone?” Spoke the ghost from somewhere close, yet it didn’t sound as formless as before. “I’m right here.”

Della examined the doll, but it sported no visible changes. Was it truly there, or had it simply avoided her again altogether? As she held it, she wondered how the whole thing worked. For some reason she now felt a strange connection with it.

“Where’d you go?” She whispered.

“Why, I’m right here,” said the voice, becoming clearer and sweeter, the voice of a woman, “where else would I be?”

Della held it close to her face. Yeah, if she concentrated, she could see some little details on it…

“Aunt Della, are you okay?” Asked one of her nieces from behind the door. The banging had stopped.

“Did you chase it away?” Asked the other as the door opened. The three teenagers walked in and wandered around the wrecked kitchen.

Her body moved and turned around. Della felt dizzy, her vision clouded. She was aware of herself and her surroundings, yet, it all felt like a dream. She worried about how was she going to get the girls back home, and how she was going to tell her uncle that she had failed…

No, wait. She hadn’t failed. She had the doll on her very hands.

“I’m alright, dear,” she said, and held the little duck to her chest, “I got it right here.”

She showed them the doll, and even though it felt wrong, she still let them hold it.

“It doesn’t look any different to me,” said her son.

“Do you even know if it should have any changes?” Challenged May.

“Well, I-”

“It’s there,” said Della, feeling the need to confirm it.

“See? You heard her,” said the yellow duck, “our work here is done.”

“How did you do it, aunt Della?” Asked June. She now had the doll on her hands.

Della smiled triumphantly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She teased her niece, and then brought her close. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it on the way home.”

Dewey had wanted to drive them back home, but she had refused. She drove them all in one of Uncle Scrooge’s explorers, the same way they had arrived. He had a lot of those to spare, and wouldn’t miss this one. On the way back she retold her encounter and facing off with the ghost, much to the teenagers’ pleasure, and even dared to add a little flare here and there, just for show.

They made it home sometime before dawn, and entered the mansion as silently as possible. She didn’t want to deal with Donald questioning her driving them all straight home instead of finding a place to sleep, as he would have probably done. Nor did she want to report in with Scrooge, who would no doubt ask about all kinds of details and worse, he might even ask about the state of the property. The house was owned by McDuck Enterprises, after all.

But all of that could wait until she had some sleep.

She said goodnight to the children, went to the kitchen, drank a glass of water, well, what she thought that was water, and… Nothing else.

The next thing she remembered was waking up in her bed with a tremendous headache. Had she been drinking?

No, no she hadn’t.

Still, her body sure felt like it.

She looked around her darkened room.

It bothered her that it was so dark. Where was the sun? And where was that smell coming from?

She stood up and tried to walk to the curtains, and almost fell. Her leg was gone. She searched on the floor by the bed and sure enough, it was there. She must have taken it off before sleep, she sometimes did that.

She plugged it in and made her way towards the curtains. They were heavy and encumbered with accumulated dust; she moved them and tied them, letting the natural light bath the room for the first time in who knew how many years.

The sun greeted her with warmth, and she found herself smiling.

Why was it that she never did this anymore?

Before leaving on the Spear of Selene she had loved getting sunlight, but after so many years in space she had found it… Uncomfortable, once she made it back home. She preferred to keep her room in perpetual darkness since then, a place she could retreat to for whatever reason.

But this, this was so much better, wasn’t it?

She opened the windows, too, letting in the fresh air, and started cleaning the room. There were piles of clothes scattered through the floor, along with partially used robotic parts, books, maps... Why didn’t she have a library to keep all this stuff in? Maybe she could even get a plant in here too, if only to liven up the place a little…

Next, she took a bath, and this time, as she dressed, she replaced her aviator hat with a headband she had tucked somewhere in a drawer. She wouldn’t be flying today, anyway.

The door opened.

“Hey, mom, have you seen my-” her oldest walked in, and stood dumbstruck at the door, his hand still at the handle, and his eyes wandering around the room. She saw his gaze moving from the opened window to the freshly made bed, to then finally land on her.

“Huey, dear, didn’t uncle Donald taught you about knocking?”

He had the decency to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry…”

She smiled and patted him on the head.

“That’s alright,” she said, “now, what did you need?”

“Uhm…” His face remained blank for a few seconds. “I think I might have left my project here…”

Right, the scale rocket she had seen lying on her desk. They had been working on it for the past week, and he had asked her to keep it here instead of the triplets’ room. More than likely the wisest choice.

“It’s right there.” She pointed at the rocket, right beside the doll she had acquired last night.

He walked to it, carefully picked it up, and walked out, muttering a thank you.

She felt glad he was so responsible. The others, though… Maybe she should have asked him where his brothers were.

No matter, there was still some cleaning up to do…

After a while, and only when she was satisfied with the state of the room, she moved to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Ms. Beakley,” she greeted the housekeeper, “am I too late for breakfast?”

The old spy looked her up and down, as if she suspected her of something. Della thought she probably suspected something of everyone at all times.

“It is late, as usual, but there is some still left,” she pointed at the last of the food, “do you want me to warm it up for you?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” said Della as she approached the stove, “but thank you.”

Ms. Beakley almost moved to stop her from reaching the stove, no doubt ready to smack her hands away, but Della quickly turned it on with expertise and looked for the dishes. She continued manipulating the stove, and once everything was ready, she turned it off, served herself, and left the kitchen, leaving an astonished Beakley behind.

She went to the table, and soon found she was the last one, as everyone had already finished eating. Usually she ate with the family, but whenever that was not possible, she always went to her room.

She sat down and wondered where everyone was.

When she finished eating, she went to her room to retrieve the doll, and then walked to her uncle’s office. The door was open, as always.

“Della, lass, it’s so good to see you,” he spoke, “I trust everything went alright last night?”

“It was, uncle,” she walked up to his desk and placed the doll down, “this is for The Other Bin.”

“Ah, I see,” picked it up, “I’ll have my teams move in to demolish the house later on the week, then.”

She must have heard wrong.

“Wait, demolish?”

“Well, of course,” he gave her a confused expression, “it sits in a natural spot for hot springs, but I couldn’t very well build a resort on top of a haunted house. It was a really good deal, actually.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“But you already knew that,” he continued, “you ran away when I mentioned the phantom, but I’m sure I left the details in your voicemail. You did listen to my message, didn’t you?”

She registered herself numbly nodding at her uncle.

“Well, that’s great, I knew you were the one for the job,” she heard him say as she turned and walked away, “oh, right, you must be tired. Don’t worry, I’ll put this one where it belongs.”

She didn’t stop walking until she was back in her room.

She hadn’t known.

She wouldn’t have gone had she known.

A resort? And he had her doing his dirty work for him? And the children? That old man…

And voicemail? Who the hell still used voicemail anyway?!

She checked her phone. It was there, still waiting to be heard.

She was trembling.

But there was nothing she could do. It was her fault anyway; she hadn’t bothered to listen his explanation before leaving. If she had, she would have understood it was a job, not an adventure, and she could have refused. But no, she had to jump at the first chance she got.

She hadn’t heard his damned voicemail either, too busy with driving there. It wasn’t even an adventure! He had looked specifically for her for this job, and she was the one who had involved the children. Hell, she had even talked Donald into letting her take the girls!

She had taken them, risked them even, all for some business venture.

She was furious, a little at Scrooge, but mostly at herself.

She decided she’d apologize to the doll next time she saw it. She’d have to visit The Other Bin, but who cares.

In the meantime, though, she was sure she had an old bottle of rum somewhere in her room.