Chapter Text
‘Alright! Play it where it lay!’ Gosalyn raced around the coffee-table and gave the ball a good whack with her stick. It flew at the wall, bounced off a picture frame and rolled underneath one of the armchairs. ‘She scores! The Magnificent Mallard is victorious!’
It was midnight.
She was supposed to be in bed, fast asleep, but she was far too excited. There was an important hockey-match in the morning and if her team won, they would qualify for the junior championship play-offs. All week, she had been trying really hard to be good, so her Dad wouldn’t get mad and ground her for three-hundred years. Not that she was bragging, but she was the best player on the team and if she wasn’t there, they would lose.
After giving one of his ‘talks’ about a few previous felonies, her Dad had agreed to let her begin the week with a clean slate. As long as she did all of her homework, didn’t stay out too late, tried not to break anything, didn’t get into any fights and ate all of her vegetables, then she would be allowed out to play in the match.
Put just one toe out of line, Gosalyn, and you’ll be grounded until your early twenties, match or no match!
It was all very unfair in Gosalyn’s opinion, but she had accepted the challenge and, apart from one very minor incident (who has an actual window in the garden-shed anyway?), she had made it through the week with her record intact.
With only one more day to get through, though, she was becoming restless. It was Friday night – no school in the morning – so she had asked her Dad if she could go on patrol with him. He had refused point blank.
Not only did he remind her that she had to get enough sleep to be on top form for the match, he also happened to be Darkwing Duck and he thought crime-fighting was too dangerous for her.
In all fairness, she had tried to sleep, but there was no point in trying too hard. Besides, her Dad had only told her to go to bed – he didn’t say anything about staying in it. So, once the elderly lady from across the street had finished checking on her and she was sure the house was empty, Gosalyn had decided to get some last-minute practice in.
Her Dad was probably in the middle of some wild car-chase and wouldn’t be home for hours. There was no way he would know she’d been playing hockey in the house.
Dropping to her knees, Gosalyn crawled behind the armchairs to retrieve the ball, but it wasn’t there. Nor was it between them. Putting her head down, she squinted, peering beneath the chairs and used the hockey-stick to poke about underneath them. There was nothing there, which possibly meant the ball had fallen into the hidden mechanisms that made the chairs move.
‘Oh, great!’
The was all she needed. She wasn’t sure the hockey-ball was small enough to fit through any gaps and, if it had actually jammed up the clockwork, then, not only would her Dad know she had been playing hockey in the house, he would also be furious about her damaging one of his gadgets.
Gosalyn sat back on her heels, trying to think, then she stood up and tapped the little Mouse Detective statue that stood on a table between the chairs, which immediately whirled to life.
Oh, thank goodness …
They still worked.
Once they had stopped spinning, Gosalyn climbed into one of the chairs and tapped the statue again.
She landed on her feet at the top of some stairs. A single lamp, activated by her presence shone dimly from a low ceiling, just bright enough to highlight the small closet and the ball right next to it. Gosalyn picked it up, deciding she had better get home and go back to bed.
That really was enough mischief for one night, especially when there was so much at stake.
She perched on one of the two armchairs that were identical to the others and used her hockey-stick to reach the switch, but stopped.
There would be no use at all in her trying to sleep when she wasn’t tired and she still had so much energy to use up. Unless it was a particularly quiet night, her Dad would be working until about three o’clock at the earliest, tracking some crook down a dark alleyway somewhere, probably with Launchpad at his side.
That meant there would be nobody in the Tower.
The Tower was also bigger than the living-room and less cluttered than her own bedroom.
That meant there was less chance of her breaking something.
Something important, anyway. If she kept away from all of the machines and filing cabinets and gadget-displays at least.
After all, she wasn’t stupid enough to launch anything right at a computer-screen.
Not after that one time … and the other time …
Temptation getting the better of her, she removed her skates and trotted down the stairs. They led several metres down to a long, perfectly straight passageway. It was lit by more of the motion-sensory lamps, but a short distance away, there was only darkness, which meant nobody was coming from the opposite direction.
Almost jittery with excitement, Gosalyn pulled her skates back on. She lowered the visor on her helmet and positioned the ball right in front of her. Gripping her hockey-stick in both hands, she glared at the ball and tuned in to the sound of her own breathing.
Slow and steady, in and out.
Slowly pulling the stick back, she held her breath and …
Whack!
The ball sailed through the air, bounced from one wall to the other before rolling out of sight.
‘Keen gear!’ Gosalyn pushed herself forwards and spotted the ball up ahead. ‘And … Mallard closes in on the ball, she swings and –’ She smacked the ball, sending it flying once more. ‘What a shot! Can nothing stop this stick-wielding wonder?’
It didn’t take Gosalyn very long to reach the other end of the passageway. Out of breath, sweating and completely high on the thrill of her game, she skidded to a halt, expertly scooping the ball up and catching it in one hand.
Without stopping to think, she slammed a button on the wall, then keyed in a pass-code. A hidden door immediately opened and closed behind her.
Gosalyn lifted her hand to a control-panel, but hesitated, wondering which part of the Tower would be best. The control-centre had the most space, but it was also home to the most machinery and the place where her Dad was most likely to be.
If he was there – which he probably wasn’t.
Anyway, if she kept to the observation-area, everything would be perfectly safe.
She pressed the button and the elevator hummed for a few seconds before another pair of doors opened.
Gosalyn stepped out, glancing cautiously about and listening.
The lights were all on – they always were when her Dad was working – but there was nobody about. Gosalyn couldn’t hear anything, either, apart from the steady humming and bleeping of the various machines.
The observation area was a fairly large, almost-square and practically empty space. It was surrounded by huge windows that looked out over the city – windows that were made with a special type of glass, made to resist attack, shatter-proof … perfect.
Beak curling up into a grin, she placed the ball on the ground. She tapped the floor twice with the stick, swung it back, then hit the ball as hard as she could. Hurtling after it, she sent it flying through the air, towards a nearby archway just as her Dad wandered through it, talking to Launchpad.
‘Heads up!’ Gosalyn froze, closing her eyes and clamping both hands around her beak to stop herself screaming.
The following silence was deafening.
She didn’t dare look.
When she finally did pluck up enough courage to open one eye, she saw her Dad lying in a heap against one wall, Launchpad kneeling beside him.
‘Dad!’ Gosalyn dashed towards them both.
To her relief, her Dad slowly sat up, grimacing and clutching his side.
‘Are you alright?’ she asked.
‘Yup …’ Her Dad winced as he dragged himself up with Launchpad’s help. ‘Perfectly … fine …’
Face twisted up with pain, he still managed to glare at Gosalyn.
‘Er …’ She forced a small laugh. ‘I did say heads up,’ she reasoned by way of an apology. ‘You should’ve moved out of the way.’
‘Yeah, she’s got a point there, DW,’ Launchpad answered, offering Gosalyn a friendly wink.
‘She does not have a point, Launchpad,’ her Dad snapped, still frowning at Gosalyn. ‘If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times – you’re not to play your games in here! It’s too dangerous and somebody could get hurt!’ He flinched, holding his ribs again. ‘Most probably me …’
Gosalyn stared up at him, trying her best to appear sheepish.
‘It was an accident,’ she said quietly, but her Dad looked away, obviously furious.
She lowered her gaze, genuinely remorseful. There was no way he was going to let her go to the hockey-match or anywhere else for that matter. He was probably trying to think up some sort of life-sentence – broccoli for every meal or, maybe, she would have to join the school-choir or go to Mrs. Muddlefoot’s knitting circle every Thursday evening for the rest of her life.
'I really am sorry, Dad.'
‘Well, just …’ Her Dad sighed and patted the top of her helmet. ‘Just try to be a little bit more careful, alright, sweetie?’
‘But I was just …’ Gosalyn stopped as it registered what her Dad had just said. ‘That’s it? You’re not – I mean …’ She grinned. ‘Sure, Dad.’
Hardly daring to believe her luck, Gosalyn took a running sweep at the ball, but there was a sudden tug on the back of her shirt.
‘One more thing, little missy!’ Her Dad actually lifted her up to his own eye-level. ‘What are you even doing here?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at home? In bed?’
‘Oh …’ Gosalyn had forgotten about that one. ‘I … well … er …’ She hung from her Dad’s grip, making no effort to free herself as she tried to think of a reasonable explanation. ‘It’s Friday,’ she said at last. ‘The weekend, so no school in the morning.’
‘And it’s late,’ her Dad hissed. ‘It’s way past your bedtime, you’ve got a hockey-match in the morning and if you don’t get enough sleep you’ll be too cranky to –’
‘Hey, I’m never cranky!’ Gosalyn snapped and folded her arms, mirroring her Dad’s scowl.
‘Don’t argue with me, Gosalyn, otherwise …’ He shut his beak and visibly seethed, but swallowed the rest of his words. ‘Alright, let’s just …’ He put Gosalyn down and took her hand. ‘We’re going home and you’re going back to bed,’ he said firmly. ‘Now.’
‘Aw …’ Gosalyn dejectedly let her Dad drag her along behind him. ‘I never get to have any –’
‘Heads up!’
‘What?’
Gosalyn turned, but her Dad let out a yell and pushed her to one side before a large, red object hit him right in the gullet, knocking him backwards. Once again, he ended up lying in a heap, this time with his face planted into the floor with the Flashquack hovering above him.
‘Dad?’ Gosalyn cautiously lifted his hat. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I did say heads up,’ Launchpad said, crouching beside Gosalyn.
‘Thanks for the warning,’ her Dad muttered, slowly sitting up, only for something shiny to drop onto his head. ‘Ow!’ He rubbed his head, glaring up at the Flashquack, then picked up the object that had bounced onto his lap. ‘What’s this?’
He held up a tiny bottle that contained a pinkish, thick sort of liquid that shimmered when it caught the light. It reminded Gosalyn of some glitter-glue that one of the girls in her class had brought to school one day.
‘Look, there’s a message,’ Launchpad said, snatching a sheet of paper that was fastened in the Flashquack’s beak. ‘Or two messages,’ he added as another, smaller scrap of paper fluttered down to rest comfortably on its recipient’s beak.
Gosalyn reached out to take it, but her Dad got it first. He unfolded it and his forehead creased into a frown.
‘What’s it say?’ Gosalyn asked.
Her Dad stood up and peered at the glass bottle again, tilting it one way, then the other.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he muttered.
‘What’s what supposed to mean?’ Gosalyn tugged at her Dad’s jacket. ‘Come on, Dad – what is it?’
‘It’s a genie,’ Launchpad answered, staring down at the sheet of paper he was still holding.
‘What?’ Gosalyn grabbed Launchpad’s arm. ‘A real genie –’
‘Give me that!’ Her Dad snatched the letter from Launchpad, rolling his eyes and started to read.
He scoffed, shaking his head.
‘Is it really a genie?’ Gosalyn asked.
‘It’s what it says,’ Launchpad answered. ‘But it’s evil – it says dangerous being –
‘Keen gear!’ Gosalyn made a grab for the bottle. ‘Let me make a wish, Dad – can I just –’
‘Na-ah-ah!’ Her Dad held the bottle out of her reach with one hand while snatching Gosalyn’s wrist with the other. ‘Didn’t you hear?’ he asked. ‘It’s dangerous!’
‘But I know more about evil-beings than anyone,’ Gosalyn answered, trying to knock the bottle out of her Dad’s hand with her hockey-stick. ‘Come on, just let me –’
‘Absolutely not!’
‘Your Dad’s right, Gosalyn,’ Launchpad said. ‘What if it burns a hole in your brain or something?’
‘Oh, come on, Launchpad.’ Gosalyn sniffed. ‘Genies don’t burn brains – they do really neat stuff like granting wishes – how evil could that be?’
‘We are not going to find out,’ her Dad said, putting the bottle in his pocket along with the letters.
‘But, Dad –’
‘I said no.’
Gosalyn closed her beak with a snap. She folded her arms, glaring up at her Dad.
‘You never let me do anything,’ she muttered.
Her Dad massaged his eyes.
‘Well, what I say goes,’ he said. ‘And what I say now is that we’re all going home and you’re going back to bed. Come on.’
Although Gosalyn made no further protest, she refused to so much as look at her Dad as she followed him into the elevator. Launchpad joined them, but he too remained perfectly silent.
Nobody spoke at all during the seemingly long walk back along the passageway and up the flight of stairs. When her Dad sat down in one of the armchairs, leaving room for Gosalyn she pointedly sat in the other chair with Launchpad.
The chairs spun and Gosalyn immediately hopped to her feet.
‘Gosalyn …’
She paused, half tempted to just walk away, but she turned to look at her Dad, who offered a weary smile.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You just need to understand that you can’t get involved with everything. Some things are too dangerous for you and, if you got hurt –’
‘But I only wanted to look,’ Gosalyn answered. ‘You just don’t want me to do anything.’
‘Yes I do – but I want you to do stuff that kids are supposed to do.’ Her Dad knelt down, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘Kids aren’t supposed to meddle with criminals and evil beings and monsters. What if something happened to you?’ He shook his head. ‘I’d never be able to forgive myself.’
Although she was still annoyed about not being able to learn more about the genie, Gosalyn was keen to avoid too much trouble with her Dad, especially after she had worked so hard all week.
‘Okay.’ She nodded and wrapped her arms around her Dad’s neck. ‘I promise I’ll try not to meddle with any monsters.’
‘That’s my good girl,’ her Dad answered, hugging her tightly. ‘Now …’ He pulled her onto his lap and quickly removed her roller-skates. ‘You go and get some sleep – you’ve got a big day tomorrow.’
‘Yeah.’ Gosalyn brightened, remembering the hockey-match and scrambled to her feet. ‘Night, Dad.’
‘Night, sweetie.’ He pecked a kiss on her forehead, then ushered her towards the stairs. ‘Straight to sleep.’
‘Night, Launchpad.’
Launchpad waved and Gosalyn hurried up the stairs to her own room. She somersaulted into bed and curled up, closing her eyes, thinking of nothing but the approaching hockey-match.