The Department of Magic was the response of the hidden community of magic-users to the changing modern world. Riordan hadn’t heard of it before getting involved in the mess with the death mages, but it made sense. Magic might be powerful, but compared to the sheer numbers of regular people, flying under the radar made sense for the various types of magic-users. No one wanted to be lynched by a mob or burned at the stake for being a witch. Enough people, magical or not, had met such ends to inspire caution over the ages.

However, the computer age included rapidly shared information and databases that couldn’t be ignored. Shifters, anyone with the shifter magical affinity, lived about twice as long as a normal human. Life mages could live long lives as well, though they weren’t gifted that passively as shifters were. That was complicated enough for Riordan’s people, trying to deal with birth dates on ID that didn’t match their physical appearance.

Once the issue of internet viral videos and conspiracy theories got too much to ignore, approaching the government to make a deal of mutual convenience and secrecy must have made sense. Well, it made sense to the mages at least. Their culture was much more about political alliances and traditional hierarchy than shifter culture, even without the national and regional variations.

Riordan had avoided politics and tradition like the plague back when he was young. He was idealistic and determined to go out and do great things, making the world a better place. Only, he wanted to do it by supporting someone worthy. And he’d chosen poorly.

After nearly twenty years of exile from the shifter world for the crimes committed by his old pack against innocent shifters, Riordan had come to realize how dumb he’d been. He’d wanted all the power and glory without having to take responsibility for his actions and choices.

He couldn’t really say he was wiser now, but at least Riordan was more aware of how dumb he could be, which was one form of progress.

With that thought in mind, Riordan got himself moving again, nodding towards the door. “Let's go look for somewhere to meditate.”

Daniel trailed after Riordan as they moved outside, asking, “So, what makes for a good meditation spot? Aside from being out of sight from the pack house?”

“The best places for meditation are private and warded and preferably guarded since I’ll be focusing almost entirely on how my magic flows and not the outside world. Normally that would be Frankie’s workshop, but the agents and other apprentices are all too likely to tromp through there. I’ll settle for private right now.”

Riordan looked over his surroundings as he talked. The pack lands really were beautiful, especially in the fullness of summer. The air smelled sweetly of lilac, which he had learned had been planted by the original homesteaders in the area when it had been colonized. The sun warmed his dark skin and a breeze rolled through the leaves of the forest, a mix of maples, cottonwoods, and pines in this part of the land. The grass was baked dry and pointy in the open areas, clinging firmly to the dry sandy soil.

A few miles to the west was the Sleeping Bear National Lakeshore and then Lake Michigan itself, but he would have never guessed it from the quiet rolling dell he currently stood in. These guest cabins were set further back on the pack lands for visitors like him who were best kept apart from normal pack routine.

It was a lonely feeling, but restfully so rather than the exhausting drain of isolation from his people that had underscored Riordan’s long exile. Many shifters died from what was effectively withdrawal if entirely isolated from other shiters, which made exile only one step removed from execution in his culture. Those rare shifters born into isolation, rather than having at least one shifter parent, either adapted or faded out in an undiagnosable failure to thrive.

Riordan was a strong shifter on a personal level and his tolerance for solitude was only increased by the grumpy solitary nature of his inner shifter animal. Honey badgers weren’t exactly known for being friendly and social.

All of this was academic anyway. Riordan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled at the tangle of curls he found there. He needed to find a clipper and buzz it properly short again before he ended up with a ridiculous halo of black curls.

“Well, we’re surrounded by woods in every direction,” Daniel pointed out, “I’m sure we can find some forgotten corner that is comfortable enough. Assuming being surrounded by trees is restful enough. Or we could borrow a car and go somewhere else?”

Riordan considered that suggestion and then nodded. “You know, let’s see if we can do that. Trees aren’t the most calming at the moment.”

Being in a forest wasn’t unbearable, but Riordan definitely had some opinions about a certain meddling tree that he could really stand to work through. The magical community needed more therapists, though Riordan doubted he’d be able to relax enough to open up to one without a ton of effort.

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The communal vehicles and their keys were in the pack house, under Norris’ keeping. Riordan glanced at Daniel as they walked that direction. “Can you check to see if the Department people are at the house yet?”

“Sure, no problem,” Daniel agreed with an exaggerated salute before dashing off.

Ghosts were intangible and invisible to most people. It meant for a lonely experience for most ghosts, who chose to move on instead, but Riordan appreciated the tactical advantages it offered. A scout that could go through walls and leave no trace behind? Who could spy and eavesdrop without getting caught? It was priceless.

Of course, that only applied when they weren’t dealing with death mages. Which, honestly, death mages were rare, getting killed or imprisoned as soon as they were discovered, so it shouldn’t have been the issue that it was.

Except that Riordan only got involved in death magic because there had been a death mage trying to kill him, who had two other death mages working with her, and they had called in a specialist on death magic, who turned out to be a death mage himself. Right now, the concentration of death mages in the area was abnormally high as if death magic really did contaminate everything around it.

Riordan felt inside himself for that dark well of magic. It felt comfortable and familiar, like he’d always had death inside of him. It was a struggle not to reject that part of his new self with extreme prejudice, even knowing it would end poorly for him.

Daniel popped back next to Riordan. “House is clear currently. Norris is in the kitchen.”

Practice kept Riordan from jumping. He offered his friend a small smile. “Thanks.”

He closed the rest of the distance to the house in a long-legged stride just a step below jogging, not wanting to linger and push his luck. Fortunately, the kitchen was easy to access, having its own door to the outside on the U-shaped sprawling house.

“Norris,” Riordan started as soon as he spotted the old man, “Would it be alright if I borrowed one of the vehicles? I need to clear my head a bit and getting out would be amazing.”

Norris turned towards Riordan, raising one brow at Riordan’s abrupt entrance. Riordan wasn’t fooled into thinking he’d surprised the man, but he wasn’t going to apologize for his lack of manners either. Riordan was changing too much already right now to want to mess with his attitude, especially since a good part of it was self-protective.

“Do you know where you plan on going and when we can expect you back?” Norris asked in return.

It wasn’t a refusal. Riordan hadn’t gotten that far though and tried to pull his scattered thoughts together to give a good answer. Norris deserved as much. “I want to get away from the trees a bit, so I’ll probably head down to Empire and then spend time at the lake. I plan to be gone at least as long as the agent team is meeting with y’all. If you could send me a message when they leave, I’d appreciate it.”

Norris studied Riordan before nodding. He grabbed a pad of paper off the counter and jotted down a short list before tearing it off and handing it to Riordan. “Since you’re heading into town, I’d appreciate it if you could grab these things from the store for me. And if you end up staying out late or going somewhere different than your current plan, please message me. Things are much safer now, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, as they say.”

Riordan took the list automatically, glancing at it long enough to see it was mostly groceries that wouldn’t go bad if they sat in a car for a while. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “I’d love to help, Norris, but I don’t have any money.”

He’d never owned much, preferring to travel light. Even before he’d been exiled, Riordan’s pack had been nomadic. Getting kidnapped and nearly murdered had stripped Riordan of the few belongings he had left. Everything he owned now was charity, including the cheap phone he’d been given for safety and communication.

To his embarrassment, Norris smiled and pulled out his wallet, handing Riordan a wad of cash. Riordan looked at the offering like it was poisonous, feeling like a kid getting his allowance. It was only the fact that Norris was asking Riordan to run errands that needed money that made him reluctantly take it.

He really needed a way to earn money of his own. Something he could do in between healing from trauma, relearning magic, and dealing with whatever clean-up tasks Riordan was allowed to tackle.

Fuck. Riordan had no time for everything he wanted to get done and none of it would be good to rush.

Norris pulled Riordan back out of the funk he was descending into by offering another piece of paper, this one with directions scrawled on it.

“If you are looking for a quiet place on the lakeshore, go here. It’s the pack property abutting Mother Bear’s territory. It has its own private parking lot and no one will chase you off of it.”

Riordan considered the advice and outstretched hand. “You’re letting me go near your place of power?”

Norris snorted. “You can barely shift right now, much less anything magically complex. Mother Bear likes you and it’s a private, warded location. If you need to get out, it’s a good choice.”

It really was. Riordan took the new assistance with only a little less reluctance than the money. Truthfully, he was relieved to have somewhere safer to go, given how vulnerable he felt with his emotions and his magic both on the fritz. But damned if he was going to say that out loud.

Still, Riordan thought Norris could see he was grateful. It would be enough for now.