Riordan once again found himself at loose ends. Part of him just wanted to go fuck off somewhere, even if it was after sunset now, to just leave the Sleeping Bear folk to do their thing while he did his. It would be a poor return for what help they had offered him though, so he headed back to the pack house instead to check in with his designated handler.
Norris wasn’t in the kitchen when Riordan entered, but several other shifters were. Riordan only recognized one of them and froze at the door, wondering if he should go or stay. Before he could decide, Mark looked up from the book he was reading and spotted him. Riordan’s first impression of the young apprentice shaman was a mix of eagerness and shyness, an impression reinforced by Mark’s nervous smile and the way he jumped up to come over to Riordan. As it was, Mark nearly tripped over his own feet and did drop his book.
Riordan crossed the room in a few large strides, bending down to scoop the book up and offer it to Mark. He hadn’t paid much attention to the kid during their first meeting, which wasn’t surprising given how much was going on. His dark brown hair was longer at the top than the sides and seemed determined to flop into his eyes, creating a definite puppy feeling, though that didn’t seem right for his shifter animal. Freckles covered his face and arms. He was young, looking like an older teen. Riordan suspected he was actually in his twenties since shaman tended to have more power and therefore aged slower.
“Hello,” Mark greeted, accepting the book Riordan offered, “You were Riordan, right?”
“Yes, and you are Mark Parkins,” Riordan replied, “Are you going to get in trouble for talking to me?”
Mark shook his head adamantly. “No. Leader Vera warned most of the pack to leave you alone, but you’re still here under hospitality. I don’t think you’re a threat. Besides, as one of Frankie’s apprentices, you are absolutely fascinating.”
That was not a description Riordan wanted and he groaned loudly, running a hand over his face. “Fuck Frankie. I just came from a lesson with her. Is she always like that?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Riordan was aware that his interaction with Mark was being closely watched by the other shifters in the room. They all looked like teenagers, putting them into a cohort with Mark, though probably closer to their apparent age than the apprentice was. Shifters fortunately developed into adulthood at a fairly normal human rate before the slower aging really hit. Given the magic was supporting health and delaying the negative effects of aging, it didn’t have as strong an impact on childhood development. It let them mix more easily with the rest of humanity as well. And thankfully meant they didn’t have to deal with their children being helpless babies for years before even toddling.
The strangers were three girls and a boy. To Riordan’s surprise, one of the girls registered as a normal human to his magical senses. She must have been a child who didn’t inherit the shifter abilities or perhaps a member of a group of humans in the know. It happened with almost every pack to one degree or another. Shifters were rare enough that they were almost guaranteed to have to socialize outside the pack at some point and such friends accumulated over time.
Mark answered Riordan with a shrug, rocking from heel to toe like he couldn’t stand still. Despite looking physically athletic, Mark still wobbled slightly and Riordan had to suppress the urge to steady the man.
“Being a shaman is tough,” Mark explained, “Frankie doesn’t pull her punches when teaching because it’s better to push us when she’s there to help than to let us flounder when she’s not around.”
“Yeah, well, she’s convinced I’m an idiot who shouldn’t be allowed around magic,” Riordan grumbled. “I’m not sure she’s wrong. Everything I do seems to have unintended side effects.”
The impact of Frankie’s teaching was clear when Mark visibly winced at that. The man might be young, but he knew enough to hate side effects in spirit magic. He asked, “Are you a shaman then?”
Riordan hadn’t been expecting that question. Before his session with Frankie, he would have definitely answered no. Frankie had set him straight on that matter, but he still didn’t feel comfortable with the title, even if he knew she was right about his pack role. Instead, he said, “I don’t think I should be talking about any of it, especially not with an audience.” With a look at the gathered teens, Riordan added, “No offense.”
“None taken,” said one of the girls. She was dressed like Mark in t-shirt and jeans, looking all American girl-next-door. She was eyeing Riordan like she wanted to eat him. The gaze made Riordan distinctly uncomfortable and he fidgeted a bit before turning back to Mark.
“Is Norris around?” Riordan asked, hoping for a polite escape.
“He went to bed just a bit ago,” Mark answered. “He usually goes to bed pretty early and wakes up early to do the breakfast prep. He was there last night because he makes both Vera and Frankie behave better just by being there. They can occasionally be a bit hot-headed, especially if they start riling each other up.”
“I see,” Riordan glanced around the kitchen. He hated the way the teens were staring at him. He wasn’t a curiosity on display nor was he interested in being ogled. “Is it alright to grab something from the fridge and take it to my room to eat?”
Mark shook his head, his expression mournfully apologetic. “You are welcome to anything that’s already cooked in the fridge. Norris likes making sure everyone is fed, but he doesn’t want to encourage bugs in the pack house. Food needs to be eaten in the kitchen, dining room, or outside, unless it’s a special case.”
That was less than ideal for Riordan’s purposes. Part of him wanted to skip eating entirely, but he had pushed both his body and magic hard in the hours he’d been up and active. He needed the food even if he didn’t want it. After eating, Riordan was going back to bed. He hadn’t been up particularly long in the greater scheme of things, but that didn’t mean much when he was still recovering on crap-quality sleep.
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“I’ll just eat outside then,” Riordan informed Mark, moving to check the fridge for food as he spoke. “You are welcome to join me, but I’d rather not mingle more without Vera’s permission.”
For once, Riordan was grateful for the pack leader’s restrictions on him. His life made him a cranky bastard to start with. The last few days left him exhausted and the last few hours left him utterly drained. He faked being okay, a skill honed from years of kicking around without steady warmth, rest, or food. That did not mean he had the bandwidth left to navigate social pitfalls with even more strangers.
The fridge disgorged a wonderful plethora of options, all neatly packaged in Tupperware and labeled with what was inside and when it was cooked. The portions were sized for a single human, which made sense given the human pack members. Shifters could always grab a second or third if they needed more to supplement their enhanced bodies and magical needs. Riordan grabbed a serving of chicken casserole and another of roast ham before taking both himself and his bounty back outside. He gave a polite nod towards the teens, who had watched and listened to the whole interplay with Mark. He could hear them whispering to each other as he exited and he deliberately tuned them out.
He found a bench near the frog pond garden in the middle of the pack house U-shape and settled down there. Opening the containers, he realized he’d forgotten to grab anything to eat with. A fork appeared in his periphery and Riordan turned towards Mark, who held out a fork and a few folded paper towels for napkins in one hand, the other still clutching his book to his chest.
Riordan took the fork and napkins with a muttered thanks and tucked into the casserole with vigor. Mark took the spot on the bench next to him, seemingly content to sit in silence while Riordan ate. By the time he’d finished the casserole and was ready to start on the ham, Riordan felt more personable again and decided to start with a little thing that was important to him.
“We’re not alone, by the way,” Riordan informed Mark, even as he glanced towards where Daniel floated just in front of the young apprentice. Daniel seemed to be making the most of his invisibility to study the people around Riordan without being rude. After all, if he couldn’t engage, he could at least observe. It was a poor compensation, but Riordan couldn’t offer the ghost his life back. All he could do was try to acknowledge his existence and humanity, dead or not. “Daniel’s here with us.”
Mark startled a bit and then automatically looked around for the other person before his brain caught up and he blushed bright enough to be visible even in the dark. Just like his many freckles, his skin seemed very expressive. Riordan suspected that the man sunburned instead of tanning too. To his credit, Mark straightened up and offered a greeting to the air. “Hello, Daniel. I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask if you were present earlier.”
The apprentice shaman had heard Riordan’s tale, having taken notes on the whole damn thing. Riordan hadn’t shared anything more than the facts about Daniel and his actions, but seeing the apprentice try to be polite to a ghost he couldn’t directly interact with made a difference to Riordan.
It clearly also affected Daniel, the ghost rocking back as he stared at Mark, and then he turned to Riordan, “Can you tell him ‘hello and it’s alright’? And thank you, I guess, to both of you.”
Riordan relayed Daniel’s words and Mark smiled bright, dimples flashing on his cheeks. He started on his second container of food, shoving a slice of ham into his mouth, just to avoid getting stuck between those two being all wholesome at each other. Mark looked thoughtfully into space. Compared to many people his age, he seemed content to keep his own counsel, both eager to help and patient. He’d make a good shaman some day, in a different manner than Frankie’s blunt command.
Finishing eating, Riordan stacked his dishes and sat there awkwardly for a moment, not sure how to proceed. He should clean his dishes and go to bed, but it seemed rude to just get up and walk away from Mark. The kid was surprisingly decent company, even for Riordan. Like Daniel, Mark was willing to just exist around Riordan. After so many years of trying to exist alone, he needed that slow approach to ease himself back into socializing.
Before he could come up with something to say, Mark spoke instead, staring out at the shadowed pond as if just sightseeing at night. “Why are you so scared?”
Riordan tensed immediately at that question. A multitude of answers swirled through him. He feared the power and unpredictability of real magic. He feared getting close to people and getting hurt. He feared becoming something different and discovering he really was useless and bad. He wanted to live, but was hunted. He wanted to be accepted, but was rejected. He wanted to be forgiven, but was not yet truly redeemed. Attention, dismissal, responsibility, expectations, challenge, failure. He couldn’t bring it down to just one thing and even if he could, what right did Mark have to ask that?
“It’s just… a lot,” Riordan finally said. “I’ll get over it.”
Mark finally turned to look at him, studying Riordan in the dark with an intensity that reminded Riordan of Frankie. He wondered what else the old woman had taught the young shaman, what else Mark might be seeing in Riordan. Still, all the freckled, innocent-looking young man did was nod and say, “Yes, I think you will.”
Standing up, Mark motioned for Riordan to hand him the dishes. Not expecting that, Riordan surrendered them without a fight. The shaman got up and pointed towards another door along the pack house. “That will take you back into the guest wing. I’ll take care of your dishes tonight. I hope you rest well.”
Then he went back into the kitchen entrance, leaving Riordan alone on the bench, Daniel floating beside him. Riordan shook his head, confused. “That kid is odd.”
“I don’t know,” Daniel said, “I like him. He’s more perceptive than he seems.”
Riordan snorted and rose, heading towards the other door Mark had pointed out. “I think he’s going to get underestimated a lot in his life and he’ll be the sort to use that to his advantage.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“No, I guess not.”
The guest hallway was empty again. Riordan made a quick trip to the bathroom, taking another quick shower to wash off the dirt and sweat from his day’s work and dressing in another bland pair of oversized clothes. As he brushed his teeth, he wondered if he’d ever feel like himself again. He felt like an impostor living in someone else’s life, ill-fitting in a role that wasn’t his. Riordan had no idea how to fix it, but he also knew this wasn’t sustainable. Once the death mage was dealt with, he needed to find his own place in the world, whether here or elsewhere.
Probably elsewhere. Riordan couldn’t see himself settling long term with such a peaceful self-contained community. That same need to do something bigger that had driven him out of his birth pack and into the greater world still gnawed at him.
When he got back to his assigned guest room, Riordan considered the bed again. The urge to burrow back under the bed was strong, but he suspected sleeping in human form would help him with the spirit magic Frankie had shown him that day. He hadn’t slept as a human since the tree, aside from when the tracking spell made him pass out, which he wasn’t sure was the same thing.
Daniel waited in his room, not hurrying Riordan to do anything, just a steady presence. The pack bond between them pulsed with whispers of emotion. Riordan could sense that looking out for Riordan helped keep Daniel grounded through all this upheaval, just as Daniel helped ground him in return. It wasn’t wrong to lean on another person for help when he was struggling.
Riordan had seen some strange and toxic ideas of what made a man in his time in America, but he’d been taught that honesty was a true form of bravery and that being one’s best self started with self-understanding. He failed at that in practice more often than not, but it was still there inside of him.
He pulled the blanket out from under the bed and laid it out on the top before awkwardly getting under the covers. The bed was too soft and weird, but he knew his human body would be happier sleeping there than on a cold, hard floor. The light was out and he stared up at the ceiling as he wiggled to get as comfortable as possible.
“Stay with me?” Riordan asked.
“Of course,” Daniel replied. “Not like I have much better to do with my time.”
“I’m sure you could find a TV or read over someone’s shoulder or go back to the glade and talk to people there. You don’t need to stay with me if--”
“Hey,” Daniel interrupted, floating over Riordan with a stern expression. “I want to be here. I can’t do much for you, but I can do this. I want to do this.”
There was so much Riordan wanted to say to that and yet the words wouldn’t come. He hoped the gratitude showed in his expression as he whispered, “Thank you,” and closed his eyes to face sleep once more.