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emilou-keen-gear · 5 months

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Demons on the Run Part 2

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

Word count: Approx. 4000

The group of four made their way to the Duckburg cemetery. Most people only saw three, but there were definitely four.

“There. There. That’s where I saw my gravestone,” Glomgold shouted, pointing to a large, iron gate that separated two sections of the cemetery.

“I don’t remember that being there last time I was here,” Beakley said, squinting at the gates.

“That’s because they usually aren’t there,” Scrooge McDuck said, scrutinizing what his eyes saw. “That tree by the fence marks where the sidewalk begins and Waddlesworth Dr. That gate, the fence, and all those gravestones we see shouldn’t be there.”

Beakley raised an eyebrow and Glomgold quaked.

“Duckworth, I’m assuming that is an illusion made by our demon, correct?” Scrooge asked his loyal servant.

“If I may correct you, sir, it isn’t an illusion but a portal to another dimension,” Duckworth said politely. “Rather a pocket dimension. It takes up a very small space, but allows the demon to lure victims to it.”

“I’m sorry, but doesn’t that sound a little complex?” Beakley said in her irritated tone. “If the demon is luring people into this pocket dimension, why would it allow Glomgold to go free? Wouldn’t it be easier to have kept him in the other dimension and eat him there?”

“Astute observation, Mrs. Beakley, but demons do not eat as we do,” Duckworth lectured. “While they can feast on flesh and blood, the way they gain nutrients and power is by feeding off ethereal products of the living. Some demons eat souls, some eat emotions, and others can feast on pain or other things that are not tangible. This particular demon, I believe, feeds off of mortality.”

“Mortality?” Scrooge asked, not liking the sound of that. He had been fighting mortality for a long time, and he hadn’t lost yet. He wasn’t about to start now.

“Yes. I guess that a more accurate description is that this demon eats entropy,” Duckburg said. “It thrives on the decay of mortal bodies until they die. However, the normal aging of a person doesn’t give it enough nutrients to live by, so it drains the years away from a person so they age and die within twenty-four hours. The tombstone with Mr. Glomgold’s name on it is most likely the demon’s crux of power.”

“So, we destroy this crux of power, the demon dies and ol’ Flinty lives?” Scrooge guessed, hitting his nemesis with his cane.

“The solution isn’t as banal as that, Mr. McDuck,” Duckworth said. “The crux of power has the demon’s strength inside it, so it is near indestructible. But since the demon has put all its power into a crux, it is vulnerable to attack. The trouble will be finding the demon. I imagine that it has hidden itself somewhere in the pocket dimension to protect itself. But the good news is that the demon cannot be too far away from its crux or it cannot feed.”

“Well, I didn’t expect this to be easy,” Scrooge said. “What about you, Twenty-two? Are you ready for this?”

Beakley cocked her gun, loading a cartridge of rock salt into the chamber and ready for the fight. She had another shot gun at her hip, several super soakers filled with holy water strapped to her back and all her other artillery within arm’s reach. She was already imagining herself as Dean Winchester. “I was born ready. Let’s do this.”

“We must be very careful. As I said, the demon is currently feeding off of Mr. Glomgold. The longer it takes for us to find the demon, the longer it has time to feed and get stronger,” Duckworth said. “As you can see, the demon has already sucked out much of Mr. Glomgold’s mortality.”

They took a look at the squat duck, seeing wrinkles and lines on his face that weren’t there before.

“What?” Glomgold asked, having only half-listened to the conversation. “Do I have a booger?”

Scrooge sighed. “Okay. Into the fray everyone.”

Beakley took point as they entered the pocket dimension, the iron gates squeaking open on their own.

“It knows that we are here,” Beakley said, her back bent a little in a tense crouch. “Keep your eyes peeled.” She kept going forward into the graveyard, confident that Scrooge had her six and everything else outside of her vision, and even though their relationship was rocky at moments, she also trusted Duckworth to be on her side.

Glomgold was another matter. But she didn’t worry about him much. After all, it was to his benefit to warn them of danger.

The path was made of broken rocks sunken into the earth. The gravestones were old and crumbling, most were so worn through that the names and dates were illegible. The grass was long and unkempt with weeds everywhere. Trees and bushes were untrimmed and dying or already dead and a hazy mist gathered and swirled around them.

“There. There it is,” Glomgold said, shivering. “That’s my gravestone.”

It was huge and ostentatious, cast in gold with a large statue of Glomgold standing with confidence on top.

“The demon certainly got his details right,” Beakley said with a smirk. “This is exactly how I imagine your gravestone to be.”

Glomgold crossed his arms. “That can’t be right. It’s too small.”

But all their caution was for naught. The demon, it seems, wasn’t in the mood for hide-and-seek.

“Welcome, lady and gentlemen. And welcome back, Flintheart,” a pleasant voice of unknown gender called out although the mouth that it resonated from was not to be seen. “I was expecting company, and you have come right on time.”

“Expecting company?” Scrooge asked. “Any company or us in particular?”

“Most demons don’t give a flying brimstone fart about the caretaker of the ghost portal, but I was fascinated by the demon that was once human,” the demon said. “It isn’t often that the Ghost King would give a once-mortal so much power and trust. So I did the research on you Mr. McDuck. It wasn’t hard. Do you know just how many people in the ghost realm know you? I’m sure you don’t know them all, but they know you. So many people have gone before, even though your time should have come long ago.

“I wonder what your mortality would taste like. You look as if you don’t have many years left in you, but that’s only the surface. Below those feathers is a fountain-well of lively years, perhaps more than most people on Earth have. You staved off time with magic and wishes and spells and all sorts of things. Can you just image how long I could live off of a person like you?”

“I’m not particularly curious about something like that,” Scrooge said conversationally, looking around. There was nothing odd or out of the ordinary in the graveyard save for the overgrown plants and how much in disrepair it was. If the demon looked like a demon or something out of this world, Scrooge would have noticed it by now.

“You might not be, but I am,” the demon said. “So I’ll thank you Mr. McDuck for stepping into my trap and bringing another appetizer with you. Let the feasting begin.”

The mist cleared, and they could see two more grave markers right next to Glomgold’s, more modest in size and shape than his. They bore the names of Scrooge McDuck and Betina Beakley with their birthdates. Underneath that, the date of their death was for the morrow, exactly like Glomgold’s.

“I think you’ll find me a little harder to swallow than your normal fare,” Scrooge said, tightening his grip on his cane. “As you’ve observed, I’ve been around for a long time. You don’t think I’m going down without a fight.”

“But I don’t have to fight,” the demon said. “I just have to stay in my hiding place as you and your companions grow weaker and weaker until the three of you die. You can search my pocket dimension all you like. The chances of you finding me are unlikely. Even your ghost butler cannot locate me here through supernatural means.”

Scrooge’s eyes slid to the side. “Duckworth?”

“He’s correct, sir. Any powers I would have to perceive its whereabouts have been severely dampened. I wouldn’t know where it was unless I was actually touching it,” Duckworth said.

“Then we’ll tear this place apart,” Scrooge said. “Twenty-Two, start spreading that holy water, iron and salt. Let us know if anything starts burning from the contact. Glomgold, make yourself useful and destroy everything you see. The demon either can change its form or create illusions or can hide some other way. But the creature is here, and we will find it.”

Scrooge, Betina and Glomgold went to work. They tore up the grass, broke branches, ripped apart plants and trees with the hope of finding the demon. They even pushed down the gravestones which crumbled to dust once they heaved them over. Everything they destroyed immediately turned to dust or rubble, whatever enchantment that was upon the objects disappeared quickly.

The three mortals worked, but the ghost remained behind. It wasn’t because he felt the work was beneath him—although as a butler that had trained at the best academy in England and who had a long pedigree of butlers in his family it certainly was beneath him—and it wasn’t because he lacked the power. It was because he knew that Mr. McDuck’s tenacity wouldn’t be enough. The pocket dimension was far too big. There was no way they could search every inch of it in one day. And even now, the ducks hadn’t noticed that the pocket dimension was repairing itself. Within a few minutes, they could turn around to find all the trouble they had gone to was for naught.

It was up to him to do something.

“Demon, I challenge you,” he declared, changing into his own demon form.

Scrooge turned around, his eyes widening. “Duckworth, what are you doing?”

“That is interesting,” the demon said with a voice as smooth as silk. “But you have nothing I want, Guardian of the Portal. You have no body, and since you have sold your soul to the Ghost King, there is nothing about you that is affected by entropy. Why would I answer your challenge?”

“Because I have access to a golem,” Duckworth said.

“A golem? You mean a man made of mud?” Beakley asked, knowing her mythology.

“Of a sort,” Duckworth said. “In a way, all mortals are made of mud, depending on the stories.”

“And why is having a golem so important?” Scrooge asked, skeptical. He didn’t like where this was going.

“The golem was my second chance,” Duckworth said with a sigh. “As you know, ghosts and demons can possess a body on a temporary basis. But a golem is a body with no soul. A spirit or demon could take possession of it indefinitely. In fact, the process melds the spirit and body together, as if they were completely alive again.”

Beakley stared at Duckworth as if he were crazy. Or perhaps there were other emotions behind her stare, but they were hard to read.

“You mean you could have come back all this time?” Scrooge asked, incredulously.

“Not exactly,” Duckworth said. “The golem was part of my deal with the Ghost King. I would have been given leave to use it after a time of service with him, and more time after my ‘second death’.”

Scrooge was about to ask for more information, but Duckworth raised his hand. “I cannot say no more, Mr. McDuck. The terms of our agreement are between the Ghost King and me. But in a case such as this, the use of a golem for a day is enough that my spirit won’t completely bind to the golem, and I should be able to separate myself from the body.”

“That is if we survive,” Mrs. Beakley said.

“But…it’s essentially going to make you…” Scrooge began.

“Mortal,” the demon finished with a laugh. “Oh, and how delicious will that be. Not just eating Scrooge McDuck’s mortality and soul, but I will also be eating one of the souls that belong to the Ghost King. This will truly be the meal of the century.”

“Now hold on a moment. You haven’t won anything yet,” Duckworth said. “I called a challenge, and a challenge I will have. You know the stakes we’re giving, but for your part, if we win, you will relinquish our bodies and souls and will go back to the ghost realm from where you came. Will you accept?”

There was the sound as if something were smacking their lips. “Oh, the trickle of the years coming off of the bodies of the four of you won’t compare to when your dry, husks finally give up the spirit, and I will slurp your souls up as if they were the finest of soups. Delectable. I can almost taste the entropy of your souls as I dissolve them piece by piece.”

“Do we have a deal?” Duckworth asked again.

“Are you sure that you know what you’re getting into, Duckworth?” Scrooge asked, interrupting. “This is your second chance to live.”

“Mr. McDuck, as always, it is a pleasure to serve you in any way shape or form,” Duckworth said, giving his past employer a small smile. “So, demon? Do we have a bargain?”

“How could I deny your request? I have no excuse to refuse the treaty of the Ghost King,” the demon said. “The challenge is accept.”

There was a resounding clap, and suddenly everything felt very official.

Beakley cleared her throat. “That was interesting, but may I ask just exactly what we agreed to? What is this challenge? And what’s all this about a Ghost King and a treat?”

“The second question shall remain a mystery. That’s on a need to know basis,” Duckworth said. “As for the answer to the first, every demon is under a signed writ that they must allow a challenge to be issued from their victims, a chance to escape from their demonic appetites. The challenge is more of a game than anything, and it is up to the demon to determine the rules and goal, although they must be within reason.”

“Within reason?” Glomgold asked, for the first time paying attention.

“Their victims must be given a fair chance at escaping,” Duckworth explained.

“Define ‘fair’,” Beakley demanded.

“As fair as the lion is with the gazelle or a cat is with a mouse,” the demon interrupted their conversation. “Demons are predators, and although we are far more superior to our prey than a lion is to his, we must deign to give you humans just as fair of a chance to escape. The challenge is to pit your strengths against my own, just as the lion’s strength is against a gazelle’s speed.”

Beakley frowned. She had a feeling that the odds were less in their favor than the gazelles of the African savanna.

“What is your game?” Duckworth demanded.

“I thought that since I designed my pocket dimension to a specific area, let’s play something that is fitting for the setting,” the demon said, its voice amused. “Are you aware of the children’s game Ghost in the Graveyard?”

The three ducks and the ghost looked at each other, looking for any sign of recollection.

“The game is simple. You must make it to the other end of the graveyard, but if anyone gets tagged, then game over,” the demon said. “I will roam my dimension, searching. Is that not a fitting game for a predator to play with its prey?”

Scrooge shivered. It sounded like a game a serial killer would play. “This game feels a little one-sided. For one thing, you know where we are and we cannot see you. If children play this game, they are all on equal footing.”

The demon sighed. “I suppose you are right. That would not be fair. I shall take my true form. It is large enough that you will not have difficulties spotting me. And I shall go twenty feet away and close my eyes for ten seconds, giving you enough time to hide yourselves. Is that satisfactory?”

Scrooge thought things through. It still felt one-sided, but he had been against similar odds before. “Fine. Off you go.”

“But first, the demon guardian must don his mortal armor,” the demon reminded them.

“It will take me a few minutes,” Duckworth said. “I must summon the golem from the other realm.”

“I will watch, so that you don’t try anything,” the demon said in a suspicious tone.

Duckworth quickly drew a circle in the dirt before holding his hands out. The circle glowed with an eerie electric-violet light. From within the light a figure started rising out of the ground. And while the display was distracting, Duckworth whispered to the three ducks.

“The demon has very good hearing,” Duckworth whispered. “It can’t sniff you out or hunt your down with its other senses, but its hearing is far better than ours. We’ll have to be careful not to make a sound once the game starts. And despite how it looks, do not, under any circumstances, attack it. The game’s rules are absolute, and if it touches you, then the game is over. This applies especially to you, sir.”

“What?” Scrooge McDuck.

“There’s no being sharper than the sharpies and smarter than the smarties,” Duckworth said. “Craftiness and sneakiness won’t help. The rules are absolute and cheating will not be tolerated. The best strategy we have is to work together and make it to the end together, but we also cannot make ourselves a large target. We work as a team but remain as far apart as possible. That is the only way we can get out of here alive.”

“I agree,” Beakley said, nodding her head. She started removing most of the equipment she had brought with her. Most of it was cumbersome and would make noise. She could move better without it, although she was sure to keep some tricks up her sleeve.

“I can take care of myself,” Scrooge said.

“I bet that I can get out of here faster than you can, Scroogie,” Glomgold said with a cackle.

“This isn’t a race, Flinty. This is our lives,” Scrooge protested.

“Sounds like someone is chicken,” Glomgold said.

“We’re on the same team. We’re not competing against each other.”

“Chicken!”

“Why did I ever bother to come down here and save you?”

“Stop it you two,” Beakley snapped. “Arguing isn’t going to help us. I’ll not be some demon’s meal just because you are behaving like children. And Mr. Glomgold, so help me, if you so much as make another sound from this point on, I will personally make sure that tombstone remains true to its premonition, demon or no demon. Do we understand each other?”

Scrooge and Glomgold nodded in sync with eyes wide. Knowing that her threats would be backed up, Glomgold remained silent.

“Good,” Beakley said. She caught Duckworth giving her an approving smile, although she didn’t know why. As far as Duckworth had been concerned, serving his employee and being loyal was everything. Chewing out someone who paid your wages or had as much money as the pair of billionaires had would have been a disgrace.

Duckworth finished summoning his golem, and he approached the body that stood without moving. It looked just like him, or at least, how he looked when he was alive.

“The second you gain possession of your new body, I shall begin the count,” the demon said. “And I promise not to look.” The demon chuckled.

Duckworth looked to his companions before reaching out and touching the golem. As if it were a vacuum, he was sucked inside through the golem’s mouth with a short cry of surprise. The golem opened its—or rather his—eyes and fell back onto his backside.

“Duckworth? Duckworth? Are you alright?” Scrooge asked, standing over the golem.

Duckworth opened his mouth and made a few strangling sounds. For a few pregnant seconds, everyone panicked, not knowing what was wrong. But after a while, Duckworth gasped, sucking in air.

“Good gracious,” Duckworth said. “I forgot how to breathe.”

“One Mississippi,” the demon said, its tone very child-like.

“Hopefully that isn’t the only thing you’ve forgotten,” Beakley said, holding a hand out to the newly-mortal butler.

“Two Mississippi.”

“Let’s move. We only have so many Mississippis until the demon comes,” Scrooge said.

Glomgold grumbled and pointed back toward the gate, keeping his mouth shut as he promised.

“Three Mississippi.”

They looked and were surprised just how far the gate out of the pocket dimension was. The demon must have moved it.

“We’ll never—“ Scrooge started to say but Beakley silenced him.

“Four Mississippi.”

She pointed to her ears, reminding them that the demon had perfect hearing. She pointed two fingers at her eyes and gestured that that move forward but to the left, guiding them not directly to their destination but to the side.

“Five Mississippi.”

They followed Beakley through the maze of tombstones, not at a run, but at brisk walk, keeping their noise level slightly above stalking.

“Six Mississippi.”

Beakley made gestures for them to spread out, not follow her in a line. Scrooge was quick to follow her directions but Glomgold protested silently until she shook a fist at him. However it was Duckworth that looked to be the one to give her the most trouble.

“Seven Mississippi.”

He was doing his best to follow, but apparently he didn’t have complete control of his legs. He wobbled and his knees knocked together. Not to mention, one of his arms appeared to have a spasm, jumping slightly randomly. And he was making a lot of noise.

“Eight Mississippi.”

Scrooge understood Beakley’s strategy. There wasn’t enough time for them to run to the exit, the demon would catch up in no time. And even if they hid before the demon stopped counting, searching all the hiding spots that were directly in line with the exit would be the first place it would look. Beakley was playing the long game, one where it would take time to get to the end, but the best chance they had of surviving. And it was best for them to spread out so they wouldn’t make themselves as big of a target.

If things all went well, they would be fine.

“Nine Mississippi.”

But then Scrooge looked back, seeing Beakley taking a hold of Duckworth’s arm and having him lean on her. It was obvious that the dog wasn’t lame, but either it had been far too long since he had been in a mortal body that he didn’t know how to control one or the golem body had more difficulties than they thought. Beakley caught his eye, and through gestures, conveyed that they continue on. Scrooge would be in charge of watching Glomgold and help him to the end. Beakley would help Duckworth.

Scrooge nodded, catching up to Glomgold and forcing the squat duck to the ground behind a tombstone in the shape of a man with a large splay of turkey feathers where they couldn’t be seen. He hoped that Beakley and Duckworth had enough time to find their own hiding spot.

“Ten Mississippi. Ready or not, here I come.”

***

It was running long, so I had to make it three parts.

This story talks a little about Duckworth and his relationship to the Ghost King, which I have mentioned in my fanfic Twisted Strings of Fate. I am not getting into Duckworth's background or any lore about the Ghost King. This is simply going to be a short story which may be related to a few other short story in this collection, which may also eventually be integrated into my main story. We'll see. I really like where it's going, but that won't be for a long time.

#ducktales 2017 #fanfiction #scrooge mcduck #flintheart glomgold #duckworth #betina beakley #mrs. beakley #spooky stories #emilou's fanfiction #halloween #short stories #demons

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