Witch Trap was warm this time, uncomfortably so. The humidity in the air was suffocating and the fresh air had an undertone of foulness, like there was a dead something left just yonder in the bushes. If made Lance uncomfortable and edgy. Tonight there was no moon, the Cottonwood's branches were barren and the tall grass was tawny and dry.
Lance made his way to the tree, sweat already dripping and sticking his shirt to his back.
"Hello? Duende?" He called, "Are you still here?"
There was no response as Lance arrived at the tree. He reached out to touch it, but stopped when his instincts started screaming warnings at him. Suddenly, he had chills despite the heat and his stomach twisted in fear.
"Poison!"
Duende's low voice was just behind him, close enough to startle him. But he didn't turn. He knew better than to look at her.
"The tree? Its poison?"
He felt a rush of cold as hazy fingers ran along his neck to the crux of his neck. The chilliness felt good against the exposed wound that resided there. Lance hadn't realized it had been aching until the spirit had begun to soothe its throb.
"Here… poison." She whispered into his ear.
"Thank you." Lance told her, "That doesn't hurt so much anymore."
The spirit's hands move from his neck down hid back and wrap around Lance's waist. She tightens her hold and buries her face in between his shoulder blades. The fear abetted. The danger he was sensing; it wasn't her. Lance was uncomfortable with the embrace, but welcomed the chilly respite from the heat and rush of security it brought.
"Duende, I have a question I need you to answer, okay?" Lance asked, setting his hand on top of hers.
He felt her nod against his back.
"Are you protecting me from something?"
"Mine."
Lance wasn't comfortable with that answer either.
"What is killing this place? I want to help you."
"…Lance! ... Mine!" She hissed.
"Okay," he placated, "I'm sorry."
"Stay." She told him.
"I will." Lance told her. "For as long as you need. That's what I do best."
"Keith," Shiro said, "I don't think he's coming. At least not this morning."
Keith paused in his agitated pacing to look up at his partner. The sun was just peaking over the trees, spilling golden light into their window. He sighed and moved to draw the heavy curtains shut. It had been a long, long night of no activity once again. Keith had used the idea of finally getting to talk Lance on good terms as a coping method for the utter frustration and boredom of the night.
"Pidge and Hunk didn't get any evidence last night either?" Keith asked, directing the conversation away from the tall medium.
"No," Shiro replied, "When I dropped off the equipment at HQ, they said it had been dead all night."
Keith snorted.
"Dead is what we want, right? We're just getting the wrong kind."
Shiro was pulling on a pair of sweat, preparing to get some sleep. He obviously doubted Lance would show.
"Was Lance's camera there? HQ?" Keith asked, slumping down backwards into a desk chair.
Shiro gave him a pointed look.
"Nope. Pidge said Lance has been staying out investigating longer. He's probably still in the underground levels somewhere."
"Can't we go find him, then?" Keith grumbled.
Shiro was quite for a long second, then ambled over to crouch in front of Keith. He ran a hand through Keith's ruffled hair trying to smooth it down.
"What this really about?" Shiro asked, bumping their foreheads together, "It's not like you to be this impatient. We didn't give him a time, so he'll probably find us after we all get some sleep."
That was it, wasn't it? Keith had a temper on him; he was rash and reckless. But impatient? On occasion, but not like this. There was an itch just under his skin that was urging him toward Lance. It wasn't anything Keith could put a name on, but he knew that even just seeing Lance from afar would ease it.
"I…I don't know," Keith confessed, "But I just need to see him.
"Then sleep. When we wake up, we'll go to Lance." Shiro told.
"Alright." Keith assented.
Something in the back of his mind told him that it wasn't though. Something was wrong.
"Duende," Lance murmured from his spot laying in the grass, "None of these are real constellations."
Lance was comfortable, though the world around him seemed to be growing hotter. The sweet aching cold of the spirit's fingers intertwined with his own, numbing the pain throbbing through him… It was getting harder and harder to think clearly. How long had they been stargazing? How long had he been napping? After a brief moment of curiosity, Lance dismissed the thoughts as unimportant.
"Not…stars…"
"Ah. What are they?"
Duende was silent again. Lance noticed that she was never forthcoming with information.
"They look like souls in the distance." Lance told her, "Sometimes I can see the spirits I will help in the future up there. I've never seen more than one at a time though… They must be stars."
"…Me?"
"Yeah, I saw you coming. You were so bright. That's how you know how strong they are, ya'know? You were blinding up there like a midday sun."
The only reply was a hot wind scorching its way through the dead grass.
"Wanna know something cool?"
Duende's fingers tightened around his.
"This place changes shape for me a lot. It's always the place that means the most to me at the time. When I was a kid it was my Abuelita's kitchen. As a teenager it was the backseat of Hunk's shitty Neon. Before our last case it was… Ricky's dorm."
The sudden frigid draft coming of his companion felt nice.
"I wonder why I'm seeing Witch Trap now." Lance pondered.
"…mine…"
"It's not like I have any good memories here." He continued.
"Mine."
"I guess after everything that happened here I wouldn't be seeing Ricky's place anymore, huh?"
"MINE!"
Lance wondered when he had started shivering. His breath was coming out in frosted clouds of condensation. His hand burned where it touched Duende's. He was quite for a long moment, letting himself bask in the ache of his memories suddenly pouring over him.
He could almost hear Ricky's voice, distorted and tinny from the way he screaming into the phone, tearing a hole into Lance's chest with nothing but angry words. He could almost feel the hot tears dripping down his cheeks, the scrapes and cuts from running wildly through the underbrush. He could see Witch Trap the way it had been that night, how his mind hadn't dared showing it since. Vibrant autumn leaves falling around him, and everything was dead. His heart and the leaves and the girl wringing his neck.
He could almost hear Pidge calling and feel Hunk's strong arms as he picked him up and carried him back to the road where the ambulance waited.
"Duende, why are you still here?" Lance asked breathlessly, "I showed you the way, so why didn't you cross over?"
Duende rose beside him, pulling her hand away from his, only to rest it lightly on his Adam's apple. Lance still did not dare to look at her, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt he hair brush against his face as she leaned over him. Her breath was coming in quick wheezing gasps now.
"Lance… mine…"
"No," Lance said, "I'm not."
The ghost fingernails were digging in now, spreading icy panic through him.
"He… he can't… have you!" She hissed.
"He won't," he assured her bitterly, "Ricky doesn't want me anymore!"
Duende heaved a single mocking "Ha!" at him before pulling back completely and standing upright. Lance sat up and gazed careful at her bare feet. They were pale and dirty, but it was the burning hooves beyond them that startled him into looking up.
She was beautiful in a morbid and ghoulish way, expression twisted into cruel possessiveness that curled his stomach in unease. Her dress was tattered and a length of rotting rope was still knotted at her neck. The truly horrific sight was the looming figure a ways behind her, wrapped in shadow, not but a darker silhouette against the trees. The wicked curve of horns, the razor gleam of teeth…
"El Diablo!" he heard his Abuelita's voice run through his head in warning.
Lance scrambled back until his should hit the base of the cottonwood. Duende, no, the titular Witch of Witch Trap was facing the figure, el diablo, fingers curled like deadly talons. She spared a glace back at him.
"Not… Ricky…" she told him, "My Lance… run!"
"Where the fuck is he?" Keith seethed.
He had sleep like shit, tossing and turning and jolting awake from vague nightmares, all while trying not to wake the older man beside him. The itch hadn't gone away, had only intensified into a full blown urge. He had shaken Shiro awake after only six hours of sleep, unable to keep himself still any longer. His face must have shown it because Shiro had groggily agreed to help him search. And search they had.
After Lance's room had come up empty, they had checked the dining hall, the HQ, the fucking library, like Lance would be there, and had come up empty handed. Keith had sent two different maid scurrying after barking orders at them to find and bring Lance to HQ.
"Let's check HQ again and see if anyone found him," Shiro suggested calmly after they had found the sprawling front lawn empty as well.
"Yeah, sure." Keith mumbled distractedly.
Making their way back to headquarters, Shiro had paused briefly on the staircase.
"Shiro, come on, hurry!" Keith had complained.
"Hold on. Do you hear-?"
Without warning, every single ornate painting, decoration and shelf of knick-knacks on the stairwell fell off the wall with a shattering force. Shiro and Keith exchanged a shocked look before ether eyes darted to where they knew they had mounted up a camera pointed in this direction.
"Son of a bitch!" Shiro spat, seeing that the camera hung limply in its rig, pointed at the floor below it.
"Shit," Keith cried, "We need to find Lance now!"
"The camera-!"
"Fuck the camera, Shiro!" Keith snapped, running ahead of him towards the HQ.
The thought that now was the first time they saw activity, when Lance was MIA and Keith's instincts were practically screaming danger at him…
Keith was a moment away from panicking when he collided with someone as he raced around the corner. They went down heavily, knees and elbows digging painfully into soft flesh. Keith struggled free, caging the other under him in between his arms.
"Keith?" They asked slowly, staring at him with hooded brown eyes.
"Lance?!" Keith demanded.
While a sight for sore eyes, Lance was not looking all that great. His skin was sallow, eyes bagged and…
"Are you bleeding?" Keith asked, reaching out to tilt Lance neck back to find what looked like nail marks marring his skin.
"Keith…" Lance drawled, long and slurred, "'M tired, kay?"
Keith's brow furrowed. Lance wasn't acting quite right. Was he drunk? No, Keith would smell it on him from here.
"Keith! Lance!" Shiro had caught up with them, running to kneel at their sides, "What's happened? Where was he?"
"I don't know!" Keith replied, "Something's up."
"Lance, where have you been?" Shiro asked.
Lance turned slowly towards Shiro and blinked at him for a moment before his sluggish brain processed the question.
"I was… investigating? With Kadnes, in the dungeons." Lance told him, though he didn't sound sure of the answer. "I just left there."
"You just left?"
"…yeah?"
"Lance, you're telling me you spent eighteen consecutive hours investigating?" Shiro asked dangerously.
Keith knew that tone. It was the same tone Shiro used on him when he was reckless or rash. He winced in sympathy thinking about the lecture Lance would get sometime soon. Lance was confused though.
"I—no?" he muttered, "Where are my cameras? Where is Kadnes?"
Keith ran a comforting hand along Lance's back.
"Don't you remember?" Keith asked.
Lance shook his head.
"I remember…" Lance frowned, "fire. So many embers burning just under ash, and frost creeping along a still lake. A million stars."
"Did he hit his head?" Shiro asked Keith.
"Maybe? Let's get him to HQ and have Allura fetch the doctor."
Keith helped Lance to his feet, keeping a tight hold on his hand even after they were righted. Lance made no move to pull away. They hurried him to the room just down the hall.
"Lance!" his team cried in unison. Hunk enveloped him in a warm hug and Pidge punched him in the arm before raising his eyes at Lance and Keith's intertwined fingers. Allura and Coran heaved a sigh of relief while Coran sent a butler to spread word the searching staff that Lance had been found.
"Where were you?!" Pidge cried angrily.
"We don't know, but he is dazed." Shiro told them, "He's talking nonsense!"
"I'm not!" Lance retorted, "I think I was napping."
Keith and Shiro exchanged another glance.
"Okay," Keith said, "Explain. Now. No more secrets."
"We didn't want to push, but this is getting dangerous." Shiro agreed.
Hunk fidgeted and Pidge looked to Lance for his decision.
"Yeah," Lance said after a long moment of deliberation, "It couldn't hurt."
Allura made them tea while they all settled around the coffee table. They didn't have seating for seven, so Pidge and Lance had taken places on the floor and Allura leaned elegantly on the armrest of Shiro's chair.
"Should I start, then?" Lance asked.
Being met with nods, he continued.
"I'm… talented." He said, unsure how to explain, "Sometimes I will slip into a sleeplike trance my Abuelita calls 'napping.' There I meet the spirit around me and help them find peace. It runs in my family."
"I see." Shiro said, once again impressed by the other, "What does that have to do with what you were saying in the hallway?"
Lance frowned and tried to think of a way to word it.
"Lance can't really remember his dreams. He describes them like images, concepts or emotions." Hunk took over.
"So embers and frost and stars were the way he was remembering the spirit from his nap?" Keith asked, leaning forward to place his hand on Lance's shoulder.
"Yeah, sounds about right." Pidge muttered, "Vague. Incomprehensible."
There was a moment of silence while the new information was absorbed.
"I have something to admit too." Shiro confessed.
"Three years ago I went missing along with my whole team of demonologists. We were exploring the woods around here, where there were reports of cults and such. A year later I stumbled up to the Castle of Lions. I was violent and out of control. Allura's head priest guessed that I was possessed and successfully exorcised me. I don't remember anything from the year I was missing and none of my team has been found."
"What?!" Lance exclaimed.
"I didn't tell you because I was afraid you wouldn't trust me." Shiro told him.
"Trust?" Lance squeaked, "Trust?!"
Shiro prepared himself for the worst Lance could throw at him.
"How dare you? Walking back into the place you were exorcised without the full and complete support of your team? Are you insane?" Lance scolded him hysterically, "Do you know how traumatic that could be? What if you have PTSD and we didn't know? What if it sent you into a panic attack and we didn't know?"
"What?" Shiro asked.
"Do you have any idea how easily we could have triggered you? What if we had accidently put you in an emotionally vulnerable situation, Shiro?! You could have gotten hurt!"
Shiro really couldn't believe his ears. Lance wasn't scared of him. Lance was lecturing him. Shiro had been imagining Lance reacting the same way he had worried Keith would before he told. That he would hate him. Call him a monster.
"I'm sorry," Shiro muttered, looking at Lance in wonder.
"You don't sound sorry at all!" Lance raged.
"You're amazing."
"Damn right!" Lance snapped, "Wait—what?"
Shiro reached over the coffee table and hauled Lance into a sweet kiss. Hunk squealed happily and Coran coughed and shielded Allura's eyes.
"I like you a lot." Shiro told him, letting him go.
"Seconded," Keith said seriously from his seat, "I also think Lance is amazing and I like him a lot."
"That wasn't exactly the type of confession we were going for here," Pidge said, unamused, "So if you're all quite done?"
Lance's mind seemed to be overloaded, so he urged Pidge to speak while he hid his flushed cheeks and tried to slow his pounding heart.
"My real name is Katie Holt. I'm biologically a girl." Pidge said with no preamble.
He was met with muttered acknowledgement and a sarcastic wolf whistle from Lance. Pidge turned to Shiro.
"I knew." Shiro told him, "You look so much like Matt. And all the emails I had received from Katie Holt came from a Garrison University email address."
"Oh." Pidge said turning to Allura and Coran.
"We asked Shiro when if he knew anything when Shay said your name. We assumed the rest." Coran explained while Allura nodded beside him.
"I had no idea!" Hunk joked while Lance pretended to faint from shock.
"Shut it, you two!" Pidge yelled, "You were there when I cut my hair! I knew you knew!"
Hunk and Lance giggled.
"Um," Keith addressed Pidge, "Just to be sure I'm not misgendering you…"
"He/him pronouns," Pidge assured him, "And don't call me Katie unless I'm wearing a dress."
"Okay, cool." Keith said, needing no further explanation.
Shiro turned to Lance again.
"So what should we do about your missing camera?" Shiro asked him.
"Maybe Kadnes has it." Lance suggested.
"What missing camera?" Pidge asked.
"Who?" Allura chimed in.
It only took a moment for everyone to realize something was off.
"Kadnes, your dungeon constable?" Lance told Allura.
"Lance's camera didn't come back with him." Shiro said to Pidge.
"We haven't needed a dungeon constable in over a century, since the dungeons were sealed off. And I have no 'Kadnes' staffed." Allura assured him.
"Lance's camera was here this morning when I got here. It's on his desk." Pidge said.
Six pair of his zeroed in on Lance's camera just across the room before swiveling back to him.
"Kadnes… doesn't exist?" Lance muttered to himself, horrified.
"Let's watch your film, Lance." Hunk said.
Pidge snatched Lance's camera and hurried to hook it up to his laptop. He pulled up the video file of the first night as the others crowded around him. Keith wrapped a comforting arm around Lance, pulling him in close to the screen.
The video started out with Lance introducing himself and their investigation, before aiming down the hallway.
"Kadnes, introduce yourself!" he said on the video.
"He's just a little shy." Lance had laughed after a moment.
"This can't be right!" Lance moaned, "I remember this! He was there! He said, "I'm no investigator!" I—I saw him!"
"Its okay, Lance." Shiro told him, "We believe you."
Pidge skipped around on the video file. At no point was there anyone around Lance.
"He's in the dungeons, all right." Coran said watching him explore on the screen, "But that door he got in through should've been boarded up and locked."
"I was alone?" Lance asked numbly, "This whole time, I've been alone?"
Shiro and Hunk traded a look.
"Why don't we get you to bed?" Shiro asked, "You must be tired."
Lance shook his head frantically.
"I don't—"he said shyly, "I don't want to be left there—"
"I've been dying for some extra sleep, too. I've been sleeping badly." Keith cut him off, "And its best you start staying in our room. Too dangerous for you to be alone. Let's go crash."
"Why not with us?" Hunk started to ask, but shut up with a sharp look from Pidge.
Lance looked eternally grateful.
"We'll look through this footage." Pidge told him, "Go."
"I'll meet you there before lunch," Shiro said.
Lance followed Keith through the hallways to their room. Once he was inside, he eyed the sole king-sized bed with some trepidation.
"I'll take the couch," Lance said, kicking his shoes of by the door.
"Like hell!" Keith told him, "You'll join me and Shiro in the bed."
Lance blushed, but didn't agree. Keith's eyes narrowed.
"Or are you chicken?"
Keith was unsure if such a childish method would work, but was surprised when Lance screeched "AM NOT!" while yanking his shirt and pants off, leaving him in his boxers. He threw himself into the bed.
"HA!" Lance crowed, pointing at him when he hesitated, "Now, who's chicken?"
Keith couldn't help the giggle that escaped him, turning into a full blown laugh when Lance looked confused.
"You're such a child!" Keith chuckled, crawling in next to him.
"You started it!" Lance said, appalled, sending Keith into another fit of giggles.
After the offense wore off, the irony of the situation occurred to Lance and he was laughing as well. When they finally quieted they were laying facing each other and Lance felt safe for perhaps the first time since Witch Trap.
"Goodnight." Lance said, wanting to burn the image of Keith grinning next to him in bed into his eyes forever.
"Technically," Keith retorted, already closing his eyes, "Good morning."
Lance rolled his eyes, but Keith was already out. He followed soon after, sleeping deep and peacefully. He was awakened sometime later feeling deeply rested and stiff. There was a hand carding through his hair and a weight dipping the mattress next to him.
"Wakey, wakey." Shiro told him, "You should wake Keith while I grab a quick shower. It'll take a while. Then we can go down to lunch."
"Mmmkay," Lance murmured noncommittally. He just wanted Shiro to keep playing with his hair.
"Good boy." Shiro teased, withdrawing his hand and retreating to the adjourning bathroom.
Lance let himself doze for another ten minutes before untangling himself from the handsy cuddle-monster Keith and pulling himself into a sitting position. He turned to the other boy whom was now snuggling into the warm spot Lance had just been laying in.
"Wake up." Lance said.
Keith ignored him.
"Wake uppppp!" Lance whined, shaking him, "Keith, come onnnnn!"
"Shut it!" Keith groaned with his face in a pillow, "Go distract Shiro and let me sleep. I'll owe you a favor."
Now, Lance was really awake.
"Promise?"
Keith made a noncommittal noise that Lance took as confirmation. HE got out of bed and stretched for a moment before ambling over to the bathroom. HE paused briefly at the door, wondering if this was an invasion of privacy. He didn't think an irate Shiro would accept the Keith-made-me-do-it excuse. Deciding that since he "liked him a lot" Shiro would deal with it, he continued.
Lance crept into the humid bathroom while Shiro was finishing up his shower. He hoisted himself up onto the counter beside the sink and leaned back against the ornate mirror behind him as he watched Shiro's hand grab around for the towel before he emerged with it (tragically) wrapped around his waist.
"Lance," he greeted in surprise.
Lance grinned at the older man. From his spot on the bathroom counter he had a perfect view of the way the water dripped from his hair and traced down his well-muscled chest through the steam. Shiro secretly enjoyed the attention from the other.
"You come here often?" Lance asked, winking.
"To the bathroom?" Shiro teased him.
Lance had the decency to blush.
Shiro stepped forward pushing his way in between Lance's legs, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.
"You're too cute." He told him.
"Cute!" Lance protested, "I am the height of seduction! The savant of sexy, if you will!"
"Adorable." Shiro grinned at him, cutting off his protests with another kiss.
And another.
Shiro could taste the coffee on Lance's tongue. He could feel the way Lance had melted into the hold he had on him, yielding completely to his mouth and will.
"Has Keith gotten up yet?" Shiro asked, pulling away but keeping his hand curled around the back of Lance's neck.
Lance was finding it hard to concentrate with the way Shiro was rubbing circles into his neck with his thumb. The other hand resting on his hip, fingers dipping just barely under the waistband of his boxers definitely wasn't helping either.
"Nope," Lance drawled, pulling Shiro closer again, "He sent me to distract you so he could sleep longer."
Shiro rewarded Lance for the truth with another hot kiss.
"What's a man to do with you two plotting against me?"
Lance flushed further and opened his mouth to say something but seemed to get embarrassed and turned away to mumble inaudibly. Shiro's eyebrows raised quizzically and he guided Lance's face back to his.
"Speak up, Lance." He ordered playfully.
Lance looked like he was about to die from shame, but Shiro hadn't missed to way his breath hitched and he trembled in excitement.
"I said, uh, that maybe you'll have to-," Lance stuttered hunching in on himself, "p-punish us?"
The thrill that sizzled through him and settled into his groin made him groan. He pulled Lance back into a clashing kiss, their teeth clinked and Lance writhed against him and Shiro nipped at Lance's bottom lip as it ended.
"Is that what you want, Lance?" Shiro whispered roughly into his ear, "Do you want me to bend you over my knee? Do you want Keith to watch while he waits his turn?"
"Yes," Lance whined, "Yes, sir."
Shiro had to take a moment to calm himself down. Keith would never forgive him if he fucked Lance into the wall while he slept in the next room over.
"Let's wake Keith, then." Shiro suggested.
Lance was about to agree when a vicious chill suddenly filled the room, despite the lingering steam.
"What is-?" Lance started to ask but trailed of as he watched a shape appear traced in the fogged up glass of the shower stall.
He watched it as it formed the final curve. A backwards "K." Slowly, the next letter formed, then the next.
S
Each letter was backwards, causing the word, the name, to appear odd to Lance.
"Kadnes?" Lance wondered aloud, "But why-?"
"No," Shiro hissed pulling Lance closer to him protectively, "Not 'Kadnes.'"
He had been watching the letters appear in the mirror over Lance's shoulder. The name it spelled out was far worse than a supposed spirit that had mislead Lance. Far more malicious. Shiro knew that from experience.
"Sendak." He hissed.
