The Key

Chapter 30

Victor studies the diagrams and orderly mess of spell ingredients he’s left sprawling across the worktables. “Even once I know the exact age, I don’t know how to compensate for it,” Victor admits. “I’ve never had to track something that old.”

“Then practice,” Dan snaps with no idea how Victor could.

“Yeah, we got trees,” Ash says from the doorway. He salutes, the motion only highlighting the sleeveless irregularity that is his so-called uniform. He claims the sleeves only get bunched up under his protective crafting gauntlets, but everyone knows that’s just an excuse. “Mornin’, Highness.”

“Ash, whatever Victor needs, you get him,” Dan commands.

“Yes, sir,” Ash says with another salute. “Leaves from some really old trees, coming right up.”

Dan looks to Victor. Victor tilts his head side to side, weighing, before he nods.

“Every question you could possibly need to ask, I need written down and in my hand before five o’clock,” Dan instructs.

“You’ll have it, Prince,” Victor promises.

Ash slouches off the door frame and into the work space proper. “I have a question, my liege,” he says, the only person to ever make that form of address sound like a casual nickname. “Wanted to confirm some of the word on the streets.”

Dan holds back a groan. “Yeah?”

“Word is,” Ash says, “you were getting married off to our angel allies. People want to know if you’re gonna marry a different angel now.”

Dan’s body goes cold. He looks at only Ash, and not at Victor. “Where’d that rumor come from?”

Ash shrugs, his faux-mage haircut slipping back over his shoulders. Ungifted in the front, magic in the back, that’s always been the way of things with Ash, the most mage-like ungifted man Dan’s ever met. “Something about the Knight Prince falling head over heels for this guy who turns out to be an angel emissary. People are putting two and two together and patting themselves on the back for being so clever.”

It’s not spread yet, then. Dan’s aborted attempt at a proposal. Dan losing his temper at Cas’ complete refusal to stay on topic. He’s almost sure he yelled about proposing, and in front of an audience of musicians and servants. The servants, they might be able to scare into silence, but the musicians have probably spent the last two nights performing at the parties of other nobility. Employment at the castle is a serious recommendation for any group; there isn’t a chance someone hadn’t snatched them up for the week of festivities until Sam’s wedding.

Really, it’s only a matter of time. Even bad gossip is worth its weight in gold, and for entertainers, that could easily be literal.

“So,” Ash says with the look of someone who already knows. “There any truth to that?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Dan answers, and his voice f*****g breaks.

Ash opens his mouth, but Victor shoots him a stern enough look that Ash satisfies himself with another shrug. “Whatever you say, my liege.”

“What else are they saying?” Dan makes himself ask.

“The Royal Hospital is staffed by monsters,” Ash begins, ticking off his fingers. “The Mage Prince has some kind of special royal magic that can heal angels. That really was the Lucifer. That wasn’t Lucifer. Lucifer cast some spell over the Mage Prince, first to get him to kiss him, then to put him in an enchanted sleep. That kind of thing.”

Dan shakes his head, even while he takes note. “About Cas. Casper.”

“Mostly that he led the charge against Lucifer,” Ash says. “He flew over a bunch of people’s heads, right? Got inside the throne room while the crowds were pushing the rest of you back. Sounds like a lot of the guards were confused and tried to fire on him too, but you stopped them.”

Dan remembers running. Anger and numbness and then running. He remembers guards moving to intercept Cas, no doubt alarmed at a man fleeing from the prince and carrying a live blade. He remembers shouting at them not to hurt Cas.

He remembers the rug sliding beneath Cas’ feet as they rounded a corner. Remembers the first of those great black wings ripping free of the ribbons, remembers thinking it a costume prop falling off in Cas’ panic.

And then both wings spread wide.

“I tried,” Dan says, shaking himself back to the present. “It was, uh. Pretty chaotic. Should have told more people about Cas, I guess, but we didn’t know the spy was on their side then, not ours. Thought we only had a demon threat to worry about.” He shuts his mouth before he can say more.

“That something you want shared?” Ash asks.

Dan nods. It’s the official story, and the more people who repeat it, the less he has to.

Victor watches him and says nothing.

Dan clears his throat and pushes off from the work table. “I’ll leave you to it. Need that list of questions by five, Victor.”

“By five, Prince,” Victor confirms, keeping his doubts to himself, right where they belong.

Naturally, the rumor of the political marriage has reached Parliament, and therefore King John. Dan counts himself lucky not to be blindsided when he hands off his letter with all of Victor’s technical questions. By five, neither Victor nor Ash had gotten the tracking spell to take hold on the mask, and Dan’s given them permission to pull in whatever additional resources they need.

The moment Dan is alone with his father, he is cornered in his own rooms. Forewarned, he turns the moment into his own ambush.

“When were you going to tell me you’re marrying me off to some random angel?” Dan demands. “You tell Mom yet? She can’t have agreed to this.”

King John’s face shifts, and though he rebukes Dan for his insubordination, he takes Dan’s rage at face value.

He should. Dan’s got more than enough rage to be sincere about it.

“You’re not marrying anyone,” King John tells him, stepping in close to reassure, not to threaten. He sets a hand on Dan’s shoulder, as heavy and uncomfortable as a winter blanket in summer. “There are rumors to the contrary, but these can be dealt with easily enough.”

“Yes, sir,” Dan says, because this is what his father wants to hear and conversations don’t end until King John is satisfied.

Between the two of them, they agree that Dan’s behavior during Sam’s party had been the main cause of the assumption. As humiliating conversations go, Dan tells himself he’s had worse, his mind devoid of examples. King John does ask if there is any weight to the eyewitnesses who claim they heard Dan propose in the courtyard. Prepared, Dan commits a minor act of treason, if any act of treason can be said to be minor.

He lies to his father.

“The only thing I said about proposing was that I wasn’t,” Dan says, frowning. “I was trying to get him to pin down some details, y’know? How frequently he could afford to write, when I could visit him at the university, that kind of thing. But he got cagey about it, like I was asking too much, so I, uh. Oh.” He moves his eyes from one side to another, the way people do when they’re remembering. “I yelled at him. Said it wasn’t like I was proposing, but, uh.”

“You sound sarcastic when you’re angry,” King John says, resigned.

“Yeah,” Dan says, and there it is, the lie. It’s a good lie, plausible, and he thinks he told it well. “Think I only started yelling toward the end, too. That’s probably the only part anyone heard, about proposing.”

“I need you in better control of your emotions,” King John commands. “The kingdom needs that from you.”

“I know,” Dan says. “I’m sorry, sir.”

And he is.

He really is.

“We’re going to handle this,” King John replies in lieu of accepting Dan’s apology. “No more mistakes from you, do you understand?”

“I understand, sir.”

King John studies him far too long before he nods. They review Dan’s letter, make awkward small talk about Victor’s tracking spells, and get ready to send it off.

“Anyone want to guess the age gap?” Dan asks upon entering Sam’s sitting room. It’s closing in on one o’clock in the morning, but Sam’s waking up between first and second sleep fairly easily now. It’s a good sign. Four days since Cas died, now, and three left until the wedding. Sam’s gotta be back on his feet by then, or the whole kingdom will s**t itself worrying.

Actually seated upright in an armchair, Sam looks up from the battery of reports spread across his lap. Drooping on the couch opposite, Jess pushes herself up and brushes her hair out of her eyes.

“What gap?” Jess asks.

“Cas and Dan,” Sam explains. “Sir Victor needs an estimate on Casper’s age to personalize the tracking spell to his feathers.” To Dan, Sam asks, “Those were his feathers, right? On the mask.”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “Hannah confirmed.” He sits down heavily next to Jess and pulls a flask out of his jacket. “So, your guesses.”

“If he knew Archangel Michael, he has to be at least seven hundred,” Sam pieces together, oblivious as to how his casual use of the present tense stabs Dan in the gut. “I’m going to say eight hundred.”

“A thousand,” Jess says. When they look at her for her reasoning, she simply says, “I like round numbers.”

Dan points to her with the flask before he drinks. “You’re winning.”

“Two thousand,” Sam says.

“She’s still winning,” Dan says.

“Just tell us,” Jess says.

Dan rolls the whiskey burn around in his mouth a little longer before swallowing. “One thousand, two hundred thirty-eight.”

There is a long pause before Sam says, “Is that the gap, or…?”

“His age,” Dan says, an insignificant twenty-nine year old speck. “Yeah.”

“He was born before there were demons,” Sam says. “Wow.”

“Hatched,” Dan corrects. “Dude f*****g hatched from a magic egg with four other angels.”

Sam and Jess stare at him.

“Pretty much my reaction, too,” Dan says.

After an even longer pause, Jess asks, “Who laid the egg?”

“Yeah, that’s the bad news,” Dan says. “Apparently, they just sorta cluster way up in the mountains down south. Something about the rocks and altitude makes the grace bunch up down there.”

“In the Kingdom of Heaven?” Sam asks.

Dan nods, using the interruption to drink. “Yeah, that’s where it is. Unreachable on foot, but very much flight accessible.” He shoots Sam a significant look, but it’s Jess who catches on first.

“Are you saying Lucifer could start literally raising an army?” Jess asks.

“Whoever wakes them up gets parenting dibs, sounds like,” Dan says. “So the good news is, they won’t hatch on their own. No third angel faction wandering around.”

“And the other angels haven’t claimed them… why?” Sam wonders.

“There’s gotta be more limitations to their portal than they’ve said,” Dan says. “Only thing that makes sense. They’re still refusing to send anyone else through until they get Cas’ body, even with the threat to the eggs.”

“You’re thinking maybe they can’t,” Sam says, reading him well.

Dan nods. “When he told me where the portal was and when it opens, he asked me to send his body back. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason he told me. And it was almost midnight, too. You’d think he could have flown to it, jumped through, and come back with reinforcements. Lucifer would have been harder to track after the delay, but that’s what numbers are for.”

“So if we’re going to get any help against Lucifer, we really do need to send them the tablet,” Sam says.

“But we should have negotiations in person beforehand,” Jess says.

“It all comes back to Cas,” Sam says. To Dan, he asks, “Did they send any tips for Victor to track someone that old?”

Dan shakes his head. “Their magic is totally different. All innate, no sympathetic stuff. We’re on our own, here.”

“Lovely,” Jess says.

Sam makes a face of agreement. He holds out his hand for the flask and makes another face when Dan turns it upside-down to show it’s empty. “Any good news before bed? At all?”

Dan shrugs. “Seer Shurley should be getting in tomorrow. That’ll be a fun interrogation to sit in on, if you’re up for it.”

“I definitely want to talk with Chuck,” Sam confirms. “I don’t think he’d have done anything to deliberately hurt us.” The but hangs heavily in the air, a slight breeze away from falling. They’ve all done a lot of hurt to themselves lately, none of it deliberate.

“I’ll make sure someone comes to get you,” Dan promises. “Lay off on that finding him by finding me crap until you’re better.”

Jess crosses her arms and shoots Sam a look.

Sam winces. “Hey, I don’t need to be a seer to know Dan is popping in after midnight, Jess.”

“Don’t care,” Jess says. “You give it a rest.”

“Speaking of rest,” Sam says, clearly trying to weasel his way out of a lecture.

Jess and Dan exchange glances. Jess sighs, and Dan helps Sam back to bed. “Do you want us to stay tonight?” Dan asks, pulling up the blankets while his brother’s eyes slip closed.

“It’s fine if you don’t,” Sam says, face turned to the side, which means stay .

They stay.

Dan leaves the spell parameters with Victor first thing in the morning, along with the order to notify Dan as soon as the spell takes hold. He’d stay to watch, but whoever was in charge of fetching Seer Shurley wasn’t messing around. He turns up around mid-morning with the exhausted, shaking motions of someone who has slept in a carriage rather than a bed for two nights running.

There’s a bunch of preliminary formality to get out of the way, a load of pomp and circumstance to indicate that Chuck’s speedy arrival was entirely consensual. The seer has wide eyes, a scruffy beard, and a satchel full of paper. His change of clothes is left in the carriage, ostensibly to be carried to the guest apartments. Whether Chuck will end up in those apartments or the dungeon remains to be seen.

Even before they’re in private, Chuck’s a stumbling, fumbling mess. After being picked up by royal guards—for his own protection, of course, with a seer-k********g archangel on the loose—a lot of civilians get flustered. Being rattled around in the carriage for two days probably didn’t help that either. Seeing Sam on crutches definitely doesn’t help.

Good to know the guy cares, at least.

Sam’s back to wearing gloves, ostensibly for a better grip on his crutches, and so Dan doesn’t quite jump out of his skin when Sam goes in for a hug with his mentor.

Then Sam pulls back, looks Chuck in the eye, and pierces Chuck to the heart of the matter in a way King John never could.

“What did you think you wrote?” Sam asks in the voice of a man who knows, know s, who trusts beyond trust that he has not been betrayed. Instead of putting Chuck on the defensive, it makes him guilty, desperate to reassure for Sam’s sake above his own.

It’s a master class in manipulation, and the kicker is, Dan thinks it’s even sincere.

Chuck spreads out his writings for them across the meeting table. Once Sam sits, Chuck keeps offering him specific pages until he finds the right one. He needn’t bother, though.

“You do know our ancient languages expertise is only practical, right?” Dan checks. “Unless you wrote the world’s longest exorcism, none of us can read this.”

“I couldn’t either, initially,” Chuck says. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, Sir Dan: one day in April, I just started writing. I felt… I was sick. Bad shakes. This was the only thing that helped. I thought it was jibberish until I ran it by one of the language students. My, uh. My current protege, Kevin. He’s pretty blocked on visions, but language is, um. Never mind.”

“What does it say?” Sam prompts, still calm, still gentle. Standing behind him, King John looms in a way Sam’s adult height doesn’t often allow him.

“That there was to be disaster unless I got you a shield, Your Highness,” Chuck says. “Well, not, not me . Not directly.”

“A shield,” Sam repeats, looking at Dan. “Thank you, Chuck. We got your shield. What exactly did you do, to get it to us?”

“I traveled,” Chuck says. “A little. To, um. It was just this barn on a farm, but I’d written it, and there was this… glowing sand cloud?”

“A portal,” Dan agrees.

Chuck nods. “A, um, man? A man came through. He looked like a man, but he was wearing shadows on his back. Like some kind of illusion. So I introduced myself, and I gave him a message for Archangel Raphael.” Here, he speaks a language Dan only understands a few words of. “It translates into ‘ In Winter Castle lies the key to the return of angels, and to the return of Lucifer’s might; beware, for demons know.’ I just, I knew if I interested them, they would send the shield. That’s, um. Here.” He gathers up five entire pages. “I don’t normally get a lot of variations, but this time, I got to pick. That one had the best outcome. As long as I didn’t explicitly ask for the shield, they would exchange it for their way out. Out from what, I don’t really know, but they were using a portal for some reason.”

Taking the pages, Sam still shakes his head. “Chuck, they didn’t send a shield. Dan had to make it.”

“With warding the angel showed him,” King John says.

“The shield I wrote of,” Chuck says, “it was specifically a shield of Heaven. It sounded like some kind of artifact, and they were supposed to give it to you to keep. A magic shield, to defend you. There was a matching sword, too.”

Dan exchanges another look with Sam. “You sure about that? ’Cause we only got the sword.”

“Very. Might I ask His Highness what color the shield is?” Chuck asks.

“Gold,” Dan says.

“A gilded display piece,” King John explains. “Converted with carved warding.”

Chuck’s frown noticeably grows, which is saying a lot. “It was supposed to be black, with an ashy underside.”

Dan’s stomach drops.

“Dan?” Sam asks, understanding already dawning on his face.

“Show me,” Dan commands Chuck. “Which page did you write about the shield?”

Chuck mutters and shuffles through them. He pulls out one and Dan skims down words he doesn’t know until the finds the one he does.

He points. “Does that say ‘shield of Heaven’?”

Owlish, Chuck blinks up at him. “I thought Your Highness couldn’t read it.”

“Cass ti’el,” King John reads, eyes fixed on those words above Dan’s fingertip.

“Actually, Your Majesty, it’s pronounced–”

“We know how it’s pronounced,” Dan interrupts.

“How, um,” Sam says, and hesitates. He looks up at Dan and then very much away. “Sorry, how else is the shield described?”

Biting his lip, Chuck scrounges around for the next page. “There’s this weird bit about a cup I could never figure out,” he says, “but mostly just that it would protect you. That was also a little weird. It would protect you, but it and the sword would specifically belong to Sir Dan alone.”

Dan – can’t.

Dan can’t.

He leaves the room.

He leaves everything.

He walks. Though halls. Down stairs. He goes and goes, mind blank, heart full, and he doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t know if anyone tried to call him back.

He walks until he stumbles, distracted out of his stride, out of his mind.

Uncomprehending, he stares at a blank wall. At a large, darker section of old paint with nothing upon it.

Their tapestry is gone.

Of course it is. A tapestry depicting Lucifer, even poorly, in their castle? Now? No, it’s gone, and probably burned to ash by John. While Mary watched. Of course it’s gone.

Servants veer around Dan. Guards pretend not to see him. And still Dan stands, unable to move, eyes fixed on the removed symbol of their meeting place.

He waits in that hallway, staring at nothing. If there were any justice in the world, a runner would come for him then, bringing word of Victor’s success with the tracking spell. They would grab Jo and their most efficient combustion carriage. They would speed to whatever corner of the country Cas landed in, and Dan would scoop up his wingless body and hold him all the way back.

He stands and he waits, and when nothing comes but tears, he hides himself away until they, too, leave him alone and empty.

He goes to bed early that night, in his own rooms.

He wakes and sleeps and dreams and wakes.

Reaching, he wakes. His bed is wide and cold, a distance that hints of a missing presence. It’s nothing like the narrow trundle waiting in his brother’s room.

Dan almost gets up.

In the end, he just rolls over.

On the fifth morning since Cas died, Dan goes back to training.

With Sam’s wedding in two days and the ongoing Lucifer crisis, half of his knights are already stationed elsewhere in the capital or deeply involved in making preparations. Focusing on a combination of archangel blade and warded shield, Dan runs his drills under Cleric Jim’s watchful eye. Throughout, there is at least one knight tasked with keeping an eye on the skies as the rest train.

Then Rufus drags him over to see the angel training dummy. Dan confirms and corrects which ways the wings came in: how Cas had blocked, how Lucifer had attacked. It definitely works for a sense of scale, but the bare wooden bones of the dummy don’t portray the sheer distraction of shielding feathers.

They talk about more shield drills. They talk about a lot of things, all combat, and Dan keeps himself from using the word revenge.

Despite a night of awful sleep, he’s not worn out at all at the end of the session. He grabs Jo and they keep sparring. She drills him on movements for the long knife, for daggers, and he adapts them to the archangel blade as best he can.

After all, there’s been a storm of omens to the southwest. A literal storm of them. The demons are searching for their fallen father, and once they find him, Dan will find him too. Dan will find him, and tear him open, and no one and nothing will ever hurt Sam again. Dan has to stay close for now, has promised countless times to stay in town until the wedding, but after that, Dan’s crusade will begin.

“You’re gonna take me with you,” Jo says after correcting his stance yet again. He’s reaching, always reaching, with the short length of his blade.

“Looking to be my squire again?” Dan asks.