Checking Mark over and updating him went surprisingly quickly despite his clear exhaustion. Mark visibly perked up when they introduced him to the two agents, his quiet enthusiasm for interesting people kicking in. Mark made a point of thanking Quinn for his assistance, even if it was the man’s job to do that sort of thing.

 

Riordan hung back, watching the four people interact as representatives of two different magical traditions, united in a common cause. Maudy observed as well, though she took up a stance near the window again, occasionally tweaking the corner aside to keep watch. Hating how crowded and claustrophobic the room felt with so many people crammed inside and the immediate issue solved, Riordan retreated to the bathroom. He was still wearing the work gloves, but it was probably safe to relax now. They hadn’t needed to do anything too weird, assuming no one heard the creepy chanting from outside, and nothing was covered in blood or bodies.

 

He still kept them on long enough to turn on the sink faucet before setting the gloves on the counter. He splashed water on his face, trying to ground himself as calm threatened to let everything he was suppressing bubble to the surface. If he survived this ordeal and got free of the killing tree ritual, Riordan suspected he’d still be dealing with the ramifications and trauma inflicted for decades to come.

 

He looked up at the mirror and jerked, instincts kicking in as he saw another face in the mirror. He was usually hard to sneak up on, but ghosts had a distinctly unfair advantage in that department. The upset at being snuck up on was amplified by just how creepy the patchwork ghost was. Even as Riordan watched, a handprint pressed against the inside of Zeren’s cheek and then vanished again.

 

“Can I help you?” Riordan asked thinly, not bothering to turn to face the ghost. 

 

Zeren tilted their head to the side, studying Riordan carefully before their gaze fell to the cursed rope perpetually wrapped around Riordan’s left arm. “It is unusual to meet people who can see me. Is it because of the ritual you are under? Or,” it lurched forward, pressing its cool form up against Riordan’s back, their hands coming around him to touch the middle of his chest, “Is it because of this?”

 

Of all the ghosts Riordan had met, Zeren was the first who was so tangible outside of the spirit realm. Panic and instinct hit him at once and Riordan spun, grabbing onto the ghost’s wrist and twisting it around them until their arm trapped behind their body. The posture was very uncomfortable for someone with physical joints, but Riordan couldn’t tell if Zeren’s lack of reaction was due to a lack of pain or just their general expressionlessness.

 

“Don’t touch me,” Riordan hissed. To his relief, the ghost didn’t try to break free, seemingly content to let him trap them for now. His fingers sank into their ectoplasmic flesh slowly, requiring Riordan to reestablish his grip repeatedly.

 

“Your body hides it very well for such a large spiritual gateway,” Zeren commented calmly, “I wouldn’t have noticed if Ingrid hadn’t pointed out how beautiful it was. Very little of a magical nature escapes her sight.”

 

“I don’t care.” Riordan barely kept his voice from rising to a volume that would have brought the others running. He couldn’t stop a low rumbling growl from slipping out, his lips pulled tight to bare his teeth. “It’s none of your business and even if it was, I don’t know what lets me see you. I thought I could only see the other ghosts from the same ritual.”

 

Zeren nodded, meeting his eyes in the mirror, their gaze steady even with mismatched eyes. “That would have been my assumption as well. I am not upset that you can perceive me. It is a rare gift to be found in someone actually worth speaking with.”

 

That was the strangest backhanded compliment Riordan had ever received. Most people who could see ghosts were death mages of some sort, and therefore not the sanest company. And just what did this unnatural ghost creature see in Riordan that made him worth speaking with? He released the ghost, shoving them away with a huff. The force pushed Zeren partially into the sink counter, but the strange ghost didn’t seem to mind as they turned back to face Riordan.

 

“You are a puzzle,” Zeren stated, staring at Riordan, “Tough, but vulnerable. Terrified, yet fearless. Ignorant of magic with keen instincts for the same. You look at me and see a person and I think that bothers you more than if I was a monster to you. No wonder the spirits have touched you so deeply when they met you.”

 

“Leave me alone,” Riordan barked out and stormed back into the main motel room. Everyone else stared at him as he entered and Riordan growled, “What?”

 

Riordan was ready to fight them all if they spouted some sort of disproving bullshit at him right then. From the pinched expressions on Lucinda and Ahlgren’s faces, they certainly weren’t gearing up to say anything nice about Riordan and his ghost-talking, aggressive mannerisms.

 

Fortunately, Mark beat the rest of them to the punch. “We were just talking about sleeping arrangements, both here for the night and then back at the pack tomorrow if it proves safe enough.”

 

From the suddenly blank expression on Lucinda’s face, Riordan doubted that was the case, but she was at least taking her cue from her fellow apprentice. It had been a stressful afternoon for all of them and as much as Riordan disliked Lucinda’s attitude, he couldn’t fault her professionalism. He was pretty sure the same trait was keeping Agent Ahlgren from arguing either, though it didn’t stop the man from saying, “Agent Quinn and I will be sharing a room. I shall speak to the management about getting one close to here.”

 

“Both the room directly above and the one next to us are empty,” Riordan stated, knowing this from his earlier sweeps. “The downstairs rooms have one door and a window near the front. The upstairs rooms have another window on the side near the bathroom, if you’ve got a safe way to get down the extra floor.”

 

Ahlgren grimaced at the unsolicited information but still managed a courteous nod of acknowledgment. “Indeed. We shall return. Come along, Quinn.”

 

“Can’t I--” Quinn started to ask, but cut off at Ahlgren’s sharp look. He heaved a great sigh, skinny shoulders rising in an exaggerated manner. “Fine. I guess I’ll see everyone in the morning.”

 

The pair stepped towards the door before Riordan added, “Take your ghosts with you. They are… noisy.”

 

Quinn’s expressive eyebrow went up again at this assessment, but made a sweeping hand gesture. Both Zeren and Ingrid appeared by his side as if summoned. “Your wish is my command,” the death mage drolled with a theatrical bow, “Anything else, your grumpiness?”

 

“Quinn,” Agent Ahlgren snapped out, shutting the other man down before Riordan could decide whether he wanted to laugh or punch the flippant man. 

 

The pair stared at each other in what felt like a silent dominance display until Quinn sighed again and headed towards the door, flanked by his invisible escort. The agent followed his partner a moment later. Or perhaps, charge might be a better word than partner. Riordan couldn’t get a good read on their dynamic yet, aside from the fact that it was not particularly friendly on the surface.

 

That left Riordan with Lucinda, Maudy, Mark and Daniel. He didn’t have much to say to the women, Lucinda because of how much they had snapped at each other under pressure and Maudy because he didn’t know her, but he wanted to be sure Mark was alright. He crossed the room, dropping down to sit on the edge of Mark’s bed.

 

The young man had flipped around to prop up on the pillows, looking exhausted but otherwise still healthy. Riordan couldn’t get the image of the creeping blackness in Mark’s body out of his mind, especially when memories of the spiritual swamp of the killing tree ritual haunted him. The fear and horror and absolute hopeless despair of a terrible death. He shook it off and managed a small smile for Mark. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Drained, but significantly better than earlier,” Mark replied honestly, “Granted it doesn’t take much to be an improvement over that pain. Thank you for your help.”

 

“You wouldn’t have even been in danger if not for me,” Riordan said with a frown. “I should have just gotten Jimmy’s license plate and had us get out of there. I’m not sure we gained anything worth the risk from the scouting.”

 

“Shut it,” Mark said fiercely, “We all wanted more information and now we know what their death mage looks like. Or, at least one of their death mages, which is something else we gained. I should have stayed further back if I was waiting in reserve. You and Lucinda could have gotten out of there fine and we could have hit the road before your ice cream melted.”

 

A small smile tugged at the corner of Riordan’s lips. “I’d forgotten about the ice cream. I bet it’s all melted and spilled over the passenger foot space of Lucinda’s van.”

 

Lucinda snorted, her own tension easing slightly, “As if I would allow that. I tossed it out earlier, before it made a mess.”

 

“Glad to know you have your priorities straight,” Riordan deadpanned, unsure if she’d actually done that or not. It was hard to tell with her. “What are our sleeping arrangements, by the way? I assume your pack leader is waiting to see if trouble follows us tonight.”

 

“Basically,” Lucinda agreed, moving to the other bed to sit. “Mark needs rest and we need to be sure we don’t lead trouble right back to our home base. We’re pretty sure we weren’t tracked, but waiting until morning gives us both time to see if anything catches up and to better sight lines to spot tails tomorrow.”

 

“I’m going to take the night watch while you shaman folk sleep,” Maudy put in, “I’ll be tired tomorrow, but I can sleep once we’re back with the pack and someone else takes over guarding.”

 

Riordan still hated being lumped in as part of the shaman, but it was technically correct and he needed to suck it up. He was sure his expression was still unpleasant. No one commented on it, fortunately. He swept his gaze around the room, taking in the two barely-comfortable queen beds.

 

“I’m sleeping on the floor,” he declared after looking at his options.