The Key

Chapter 14

“It’s May first,” Dan shoots back. “And if you think it’s hot now, wait until we’ve got you wearing gloves in the summer.” He stands and retrieves the stuffed horse from its spot on the shelf, next to a crystal bookend in the shape of an impala deer. “Here’s Sully, go to sleep.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Sam tells him, but he tucks the stuffed horse beneath his arm anyway.

“Why do you even still have that thing?” Dan asks. “You changing your mind about turning twenty-five?”

“Of course I still have him,” Sam says. “You gave him to me when I manifested.”

Dan blinks a little, thinking. He snaps his fingers. “Right. You wouldn’t shut up about it. Just ‘open the horse, open the horse’ until I grabbed the right present. Had to be the one with the rainbow saddle blanket. Giving him to you was the only way to make you shut up.”

“Oh,” says Sam, sitting back up. He crosses his legs beneath him.

His eyes aren’t wide. His expression is calm. He doesn’t sound upset either, but there’s a reason Dan has enough practice to read even Cas.

“What?” Dan asks.

“Nothing,” Sam says, so Dan waits. And waits.

“It’s just,” Sam says, and Dan waits a bit more.

“You said you were proud of me,” Sam says, like Dan should have remembered this. Like Dan should remember that day as anything other than the foundations of his universe being torn out from under him. The first day of being cast aside.

There are moments where, despite it all, Sam is still ridiculously young. Despite the visions, despite their upbringing, despite the weight of the entire country steadily bearing down on him. Despite their tutors, despite their parents, despite Dan himself. There are still moments where Sam is ridiculously young. Or, perhaps, impossibly human, the way they’re not allowed to be.

Dan never knows what to do in these moments.

This one is no different.

He blusters his way through anyway, hands on his hips and heart between his teeth. “Sammy, what the hell does you manifesting have to do with me being proud of you?”

Something crinkles behind Sam’s eyes. He looks away from Dan, blinking repeatedly. His shoulders rise and fall. In a voice too small for a man so absurdly big, he says, “You weren’t kidding about not being Dad.”

“If Dad was any more proud of you, he’d burst something,” Dan tells him flatly.

“If Dad was any more proud of my magic,” Sam says, and something inside Dan tilts.

“It’s part of you.”

“And it’s still never good enough,” Sam says. “That was the closest I’ve ever gotten to being the fire mage he’s always wanted, and it wasn’t even me.”

Dan sits back down on the bed. “Sammy, if you want someone to comfort you over not being magic enough, you’re talking to the wrong guy.”

“My visions are too erratic,” Sam tells him. “I can’t have them at will, I can’t repeat them. All I can do is get my life force drained out of me and know where to go running for my big brother.”

“Sam,” Dan says, firm. “This is not an eight in the morning conversation. This is a two in the morning conversation. While drunk.”

“Yeah, all right,” Sam says, as if that was an invitation. He’s stupid, this tired. “Cas will head out by then tonight, right?”

“He’s left on the early side, so far,” Dan says. “Don’t think he will tonight, though. Research night and all.”

Research and kissing.

Cas had promised.

Dan’s insides twirl around like leaves in the wind, thinking of it. The sheer unrepentant nerve that, in a showier man, would be called panache.

“Why does ‘research night’ sound like a euphemism?” Sam asks, eyeing him. At least, eyeing him as much as he can with his eyes half closed.

“I don’t think you want to know that.”

“I don’t think I do either,” Sam agrees.

“Good. Now go to sleep.”

“Yeah, all right.” Sam sinks down into his bed and actually tucks the stuffed horse back under his arm. The urge to laugh at him smacks up against the urge to wrap him up in cotton wool and never let him outside ever again.

Dan extinguishes the magelight on his way out with a double-tap on one of the linked orbs. Do these draw from Sam, too? They shouldn’t, right? But until they know for sure, they should get him some candles or an oil lamp. And not let Sam near anything enchanted for a while.

Exiting into the hall, he finds the space surprisingly empty. He must have taken too long for his parents to wait around. Hand still on Sam’s doorknob, he lets himself pause a moment before getting his ass in gear. He can still make the end of the morning training session. He sets off before remembering he’s wearing the wrong boots and backtracks to his own rooms.

He opens the door only to find his lights already on.

Inside Dan’s sitting room, his parents are standing very close and very quiet, two things that are usually mutually exclusive. Moreover, his mother’s jacket has smudges of soot on the front.

They turn to look at Dan as he enters.

“How is he?” Mary asks.

“Napping,” Dan answers, closing the door behind him. “He already found his limit, too. Said there was a point where it changed from him giving, to Dame Joanna taking. Sounds like that should be the cut-off point.”

Mary nods while John listens with a thoughtful expression. “That’s good to know,” John says.

“Mom, are you all right?” Dan asks. Normally, he wouldn’t ask, not in front of John, but.

There’s soot on her jacket.

And maybe that long, blond hair on John’s black casting robe is from Jo, but maybe it isn’t.

“I’m adjusting,” Mary says.

“We all are,” John says in the voice of a man who has already adjusted.

“Mom?” Dan asks again, and he puts his hand on her shoulder.

She bites her lip but doesn’t pull away. John steps in close, and she doesn’t pull away. John wraps his arms around them both, and Dan doesn’t know what to do with his hands. In the end, they hold on, an awkward arrangement of limbs and faces and not looking at each other as they breathe.

“He’s alive,” John says quietly.

“I almost killed him,” Mary says, even quieter.

They hold her tight.

They hold her so tight.

“We could have had more,” Mary says, muffled. “We never even tried for a daughter.”

“I’m sorry,” John says. Only that, but already more than Dan can remember him ever saying. “I wasn’t going to risk you, Mary.”

They get go slowly, uncomfortably. Now free to look at each other, they all look away, blinking until the need to blink passes.

“What else did that scholar of yours say?” John asks.

“Already told you everything last night,” Dan says. “This morning. Whichever. He said that was all he knew, too, unless you count angel stories.”

“What would angels have to do with vessels?” Mary asks.

“I don’t know,” Dan admits, though he hardly thinks that matters. Then again, if previously unknown or seemingly lost talents can be real, maybe he really should take a better look at that whole angel thing. “I’ll ask him tonight.”

“Bring him around,” John instructs. “It’s time I spoke with this Casper.”

While Dan’s stomach twists, his face remains neutral. “Yes, sir. Where and when?”

“When does he arrive?”

“He’s been in by eight, the last two nights,” Dan says.

“When you find him, you bring him to me,” King John tells him. “What we have to discuss, we can discuss in the side room.”

“Wouldn’t that draw undue interest?” Dan asks, hands clasped behind his back, head slightly bowed.

“Do you plan to continue pursuing this man?” King John asks.

Dan’s stomach doesn’t merely twist. It turns inside out.

“Yes, sir,” he says. “I do.”

“Then I fail to see how meeting the man who has captured my son’s eye would draw undue interest,” King John concludes. “You’ll bring him to me.”

It’s research night. He promised Cas it would be research night.

“Yes, sir,” Dan says.

“What has he asked for, in exchange for his silence?” King John continues.

“He hasn’t asked for anything,” Dan answers, voice steady as his heart leaps. “However, his current project at Carver University is centered around angels, and Sam says there’s a few things in the basement he thinks might help.”

“Sam’s already looked?” Mary asks.

“Well, it’s Sam,” Dan says, falling back on that decades old excuse. “I don’t think he was acting at his most chronological. He wants to help Casper definitively prove angels were real. Turns out, Sam never outgrew his angel phase.”

“Didn’t that end when he was ten?” Mary asks.

“Twelve, I thought,” John says.

“It came back,” Dan says.

“In any case, you’re proposing access in exchange for his silence,” King John continues.

“I am,” Dan says. “Although I want it noted for the record that when Casper told me Sam was a vessel, he clearly thought he was admitting to discovering a state secret. He stated concern that Sam doesn’t wear gloves for physical contact and didn’t understand when I asked him to explain.”

He’d also phrased things pretty horrifically at the start, but Dan’s choosing to ignore that forever. He never wants to even think the words I felt something when I touched your brother ever again. Sam’s not the only one who’s an i***t when tired.

“Consider it noted,” King John tells him. “Anything else?”

“Sam wants to be Casper’s application piece for the Men of Letters,” Dan answers.

“And you agree?” King John asks, as if this has ever mattered before.

Dan nods. “He’s extremely intelligent and we’d do well to poach him before Carver University figures out what they have. To protect Sam, the official application could be for proven research methods into obscure lore.”

“If we recognize his findings, he could be less inclined to seek that recognition elsewhere,” Mary reasons, speaking to her husband.

“It’s something to consider,” King John allows.

“Thank you, sir,” Dan says.

“What else do we know about Casper?” Mary asks in a tone equal parts queen and mother.

“He had a rough childhood before finding a patron at the university,” Dan summarizes. “He has three living siblings, though I don’t think they’re by blood. He has one deceased sister, dead of possession. He has no memory of his parents and may not know when his birthday is. He’s over thirty, maybe over thirty-five, but I don’t think by much. He’s a healer mage, strong, but his focus of study is six to seven hundred years ago, specifically around angels and demons.” Dan might be stretching the truth on the last, but only a little. Demonology is always a useful knowledge set, even if it’s clearly not Cas’ passion.

Continuing, he adds, “He’s a colleague of Seer Shurley and is working with him on his current project. He’s here on Seer Shurley’s invitation, though he’s socially conservative enough to hesitate in claiming the seer’s friendship.”

“Socially conservative,” King John repeats, eyeing Dan pointedly.

Dan flushes. “There’s a certain amount of withdrawn you have to get through, first. He thrives on academic subjects.”

“A good start for a Man of Letters,” Mary says.

Dan nods. “He’s qualified. I know how biased I look right now, but what he discovered yesterday may end up saving Sam’s life down the line. That’s exactly the kind of lore support I want behind my knights.”

“It’s something to consider,” King John says again.

“Thank you, sir,” Dan repeats.

“If Dan’s intent on pursuing him, Casper ought to have a surname,” Mary says to King John. “Awarding a new one would have fewer complications than investigating his family history.” By which she means, there is the risk Casper is a discarded bastard rather than a true orphan. She looks to Dan. “Do you know if he was at an established orphanage?”

Dan shakes his head. “Only that a soldier looked after them for a while. I can ask. Though I think it would be more advantageous tonight to show him the artifacts Sam tracked down. Show him his contributions and cooperation will be rewarded. I know it would be effective. He’s more research-driven than even Sam is.”

“Do it after you bring him to me,” King John commands, and some of the tension wrapped around Dan’s spine dissipates.

“Yes, sir. I will, sir.”

“Good,” John says. “That will be all for now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Moving to leave, King John says, “Mary.”

Rather than follow, Mary moves forward to hug Dan again. “I want to talk to him, too, you know,” she tells Dan, voice firm by his ear.

“As his queen or as my mother?” Dan asks. Over Mary’s shoulder, he sees his father’s lips quirk behind his beard.

“Seeing as his queen is your mother, I don’t see why I should have to choose,” Mary replies. “I remember the last time your head turned like this.”

That Mary makes the connection ought to be terrifying. Instead, it solidifies something deep in Dan’s gut, that determined promise to himself that, should he ever find another Lisa, he wouldn’t hesitate.

“Last time,” Dan says, “my position scared her off.” And directly into the arms of another man, at that. Which even Dan’s jealous heart can understand, seeing as he did much the same himself. If only the origin spells on Ben hadn’t pointed toward that other man as well, things would be a lot different. Dan would have a wife and a son legitimately recognized, instead of a distant friend and a young, sponsored mage.

It’s been strange, how little that thought has grown to hurt. And now, it’s entirely bizarre, how it no longer hurts at all.

“We’ll space it out,” Mary decides, pulling back from their hug. “I can wait and talk to him tomorrow. If you don’t mind me stealing him for a dance, that is.”

Dan is going to have to bury Cas in books in apology. Except not literally, what with the whole claustrophobia thing.

...Which would have been an important complication to remember before committing Cas to an interrogation with a king in a tiny room.

Dan’s gonna have to give the guy an entire library to make up for this. Piecemeal, so it’s not overwhelming. If he offers anything else, Cas will hit him with another one of those gruff I don’t need you to take care of me deflections. An orphan standing his ground against a prince, infuriatingly magnificent in every inch he refuses to give. Maybe someday, Dan will be able to kiss him into compliance, but it’s been hell holding back.

Aloud, Dan says, “He’s still learning how to dance, so you'll have to lead.”

“I can do that,” Mary says. She pulls away fully to join John who, surprisingly, has waited for her at the door. “I’ll see you at lunch,” she adds. “A late lunch, I think.”

“Hold on,” Dan says, meaning to walk out with them. He ducks into his bedroom to grab his boots, but when he returns to his parents’ sides, they stare at him.

“What are you doing?” Mary asks.

“I’m missing training,” Dan says. “They’ll be halfway through weapon drills by now.”

John looks at Dan with an expression Dan isn’t used to. There’s a smile in it. “Go to bed, son,” John orders softly.

“Yes, sir,” Dan says before his father’s words can really register.

They register.

By sheer force of habit, Dan doesn’t question them, not aloud.

John nods back. “See you at lunch,” he says, which is strange, and he looks at Mary in a way that is even stranger.

As they exit through the door, she takes his hand, and she looks back at John the same way.

Left alone in his rooms, Dan is abruptly haunted by a question his brain will never recover from: just how much of the strain of his parents’ marriage is from s****l tension?

Shuddering, Dan drops his boots. He tries to go to bed, shudders even harder, and has to pry his mind from the frankly horrifying thought that his mother might not be too old for that daughter she’s always wanted. Is fifty-four too old? Can people have children that late? Is Dan going to have to tear his own eyes out if he keeps wondering about this?

Deciding that the answer to at least the last question is a resounding yes, he shucks his fancy castle clothes. Muscle memory tells him to roll them, the better to stick them in his travel bag, but he lays them out on his chair instead.

He pulls back the covers of his bed and slides under in just his smallclothes. Without a stuffed horse to tuck under his arm, he settles in with pillows instead. In a path as inevitable as it is predictable, the quiet crunch of down feathers leads his mind back to thoughts of wings. How, unnatural stiffness aside, Cas wears them with a sleek, unconscious grace.

He wonders what Cas looks like without them.

He wonders what Cas looks like without a couple other things, too.

Last time, four days in, he’d known what Lisa had looked like without those other things. Then again, last time, four days in, he hadn’t known Lisa was an only child or what her relationship with her mother was like, or all sorts of details. Last time, a full week in, they hadn’t discussed his position in any depth, let alone the historical weight and development of it. They’d not talked about or even acknowledged Dan’s hunting, much less debated the efficacy of anti-demon measures. He’d felt that connection and tried to hold onto it with his body, not his words.

Maybe, this time, he can do it right.

Maybe, this time, he’s already doing it right.

He thinks of Cas talking him down last night. Cas holding him so firm and steady, and how surreal it felt to be the protected, not the protector. He thinks of Cas’ poorly disguised panic at the pressure his university patron put on him, of Cas calming as Dan addressed those fears. Cas trusting him with his body as they danced, with his thoughts as they spoke.

Is that doing it right? Maybe. It feels like it is. He’ll keep at it until he knows it is, because he’s going to do it right. He’s going to hold on in word and deed. He’s not going to wait another nine years – or longer – to feel this again.

He nods against his pillow, then has to roll his eyes at himself. Forget Sam, Dan is the melodramatic one on this little sleep. Comfortable bed and thick pillows or not, he’s wide awake, mind buzzing like a bee circling a flower. His mattress pulls his limbs down and his sheets keep them there, but yeah, no. Too awake. Too nervous, too eager.

He closes his eyes to rest, just to rest, and when he sleeps, he dreams, aching and hopeful.

When he reports to Raphael, he begins with his lead for the coming night. The news that the tablet in question was recovered from a demon stronghold is not promising. If it were the tablet they seek, the demons would have used it instead to unleash their own. The demons clearly have enough knowledge of portals to be able to send the tablet into their realm of banishment and thereby unlock it from within.

Still, Casper argues, this first tablet could lead to more.

As expected, as is reasonable, Raphael asks why the human prince knows Casper is looking for any tablet at all. Casper explains that he has discovered a point of dispute between the two princes: namely, the very existence of angels. This pronouncement receives a great variety of reactions from those gathered, from disbelieving anger to incredulous amusement. Very lightly, Raphael’s scapular feathers lift, as slight a motion as if it were the wind ruffling them, but here, there is no wind. There never has been, and never shall be.

When this response dies down, Casper continues to explain Prince Samuel’s press for physical evidence of angels and Prince Dan’s willingness to allow Casper to identify it. Casper believes he can continue to position himself as a pawn in this brotherly debate.

Of course, Casper is expected to report what he has done this past night, not simply what he intends to do tomorrow. He responds that he procured two hours of access to the castle library, but only found innumerable codices and a scattering of scrolls.

He does not mention the dancing. He does not mention Prince Samuel’s status as a vessel.

What he does mention is a concern passed onto him from Prince Dan: are they certain, absolutely certain, that Lucifer was banished with the demons?

Casper’s intelligence is clearly brought into question by his asking, but he makes his point and explains it well. Lucifer would only have been banished with the demons if he were tied to them in some way. Are they certain he was tied?

The answer is yes. Further explanations are not offered, and Casper knows better than to ask for them.

Later, while Casper again practices facial expressiveness with Joshua, Hannah asks him why he was concerned. Casper restates his reasoning, fully based in the practicalities and technicalities of banishment spells. Hannah looks at him long and hard, and Joshua repeats the question.

Casper has no further answer, and so the matter drops.

Hours later, he picks the matter back up and takes it to Uriel. There, he is met by the resolute practicality and knowledgeable condescension he has grown to expect from his brother. In their final battles before the banishment, most of the other architects of the banishment spell were slain, and the de facto promotion has not always suited Uriel well. Still, Casper has the answers he seeks, if not the reassurance.

He finds his hand closing on its own, not into a fist but into the memory of a hold. Experimentally, he thinks of Prince Dan and feels himself grow calmer. It’s a result both strange and somehow expected. He meditates on the human’s unmasked face, and the power still full to bursting inside of him becomes easier to handle.

The time crunch combines poorly with that burst of energy. He knows this. He wills his body to understand it as well as his mind does, but the agitation remains.

Seeking to soothe it, Casper forgoes further research. He has already memorized every detail Uriel can tell him about the royal family, the matters of the kingdom, and beyond. Instead, he finds Balthazar and pries him away from his current project of another borrowed shirt.

While restoring cloth revives the strength of the remaining threads, it does not replace those already missing. For this reason, most of their clothing is extremely thin, which makes modification a problem. In attending a masquerade ball meant to escalate in finery, Casper has difficulties remaining merely presentable. Though Balthazar has sarcastically feigned gratitude for something to do, separating him from his task at hand takes a surprising amount of effort.