Whatever Riordan had been expecting, that guy was not it.
When Daniel jerked back into the room, Riordan half expected that they were under attack. He was torn between sticking next to Mark or joining Lucinda at the door. He had no idea what Daniel had seen, but his instincts told him to go on attack first and claim the flow of the fight, rather than let someone else dictate it.
When Daniel muttered “Ghosts…” while Riordan was crossing the room, that decided it. Lucinda had already checked the peephole and removed the chain, meaning she didn’t see whatever had freaked Daniel out. So he was going outside first.
Riordan yanked the door open. The first thing he spotted was Maudy, standing right there and clearly surprised at Riordan’s sudden appearance. She didn’t look frightened or upset or bespelled though, just startled. A man in a black suit was a few steps behind her, looking like a movie depiction of a secret agent, minus the sunglasses. His dark blond hair was professional rather than military and his face clean shaven, showing a stern expression.
What really caught Riordan’s eyes were the three people still standing beside the SUV. One was a solid living person, wreathed in dark shadows of death magic that sunk deep into his skin. The other two were washed out like ghosts, but odd, creepy, and definitely dangerous.
One was a little girl with poofy curling pale-colored hair that fell just past her shoulders. She wore a cute dress with wide skirts, lacy petticoats, and ribbons, a large rip racing up side of the skirt. Bloody bandages wrapped around her face over her eyes, marked with particularly dark stains where those eyes should have been. Glowing sigils pulsed along its surface. The writing looked runic, but not a language Riordan recognized and some of it might have been symbols or circles instead of words. The girl smiled angelically at him, somehow facing directly towards him despite her lack of eyes.
The other ghost was tall and broad with a narrow waist, flaring hips, and large black stitches holding the different parts of their body together. They wore a tattered hooded toga thing, sleeveless and ending around knee length. Faces and hands occasionally pressed up against the inside of their skin like a swimmer touching glass before turning to dive again. Unlike most ghosts, this one wasn’t really translucent, being far denser and more solid if still colorless. Their eyes, which were different colors and sizes, settled on Riordan with bland interest.
And then there was the death mage himself.
Once Riordan looked past the layer of death magic clinging to him, the man was almost as pale as his ghosts, though the black clothing wasn’t washed out and there were flashes of color. Semi-precious stones were embedded in his thick leather bracelets, belt, and collar. His long black bangs had streaks of deep rich blue, falling into his face to hide wide grey bloodshot eyes and the dark circles of fatigue under them. He was thin, unhealthily so, his bones sticking out even past a surprising amount of lean muscle. The metal chains draping and dangling from his outfit included charms, most of them containing preserved spells. His many pockets glowed with even more bits of enchanted magic.
Given how pale and sick he looked, Riordan wasn’t sure about age, but guessed early thirties. He had frozen up when Riordan showed up, clearly just as surprised by Riordan as Riordan was by him. He wondered if the death mage knew he was a threat or thought him harmless. As it was, he barely restrained himself from attacking as he glanced again at Maudy and the agent and concluded this twig of a death mage might be the specialist they were waiting for.
And then the patchwork ghost spoke, pointing out Riordan’s apparently pleasing butt to the man. Even the blush was oddly washed out, darkening his sharp cheeks in a flush of grey rather than a normal pink.
“He does have a nice butt,” Daniel offered from behind Riordan, “I don’t think he bats for our team, but he hasn’t minded me watching yet.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Daniel?” Riordan grumbled. “What teams?”
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The patchwork ghost tipped its head consideringly. “A bit oblivious to being checked out, isn’t he. Well, I suppose that’s not why we are here.”
“No, I get--” Riordan cut off, growling, both in frustration at the conversation and because the agent man was scowling at him.
“You see and hear ghosts. Are you hiding your death magic taint?” the agent demanded.
“Shit, that’s a thing?” Riordan asked. The implications of that were terrifying when they didn’t know what the death mage behind the killing tree even looked like.
“He’s not tainted, Agent Ahlgren,” the death mage guy broke in, his tone at the agent’s name almost mocking. His eyes were intelligent and piercing, for all he looked like he belonged at a concert or a club and not a magical intervention. “We should also move this inside if we are going to start talking shop.”
Agent Ahlgren looked like he’d sucked on a lemon but gestured for everyone to head inside. No one moved for a moment and Riordan realized he was blocking the door. He stepped back into the motel room, returning to his spot beside Mark, both for the distance from the newcomers and to protect the unconscious man.
The rest of the small mob filed inside, lingering closer to the door. Well, the death mage looked interested in coming over to Mark’s side, but was also trapped behind everyone else. Lucinda glared at Riordan briefly before starting the introductions.
“You are the specialists from the Department of Magic then?” she asked primly.
“Yes, I am Special Agent Ahlgren and this is Special Agent Quinn Morrish, our top death magic specialist. We represent the Department of Magic and the Greater Magician’s Alliance of America. We have come to offer aid against the reported active death mages. I assure you, I am well versed in fighting death mages and Agent Quinn will be no threat.” The way Agent Ahlgren said that sounded more like a threat aimed at Agent Quinn than a proper reassurance.
“I am Lucinda Hunt, senior apprentice of the Sleeping Bear Pack. I greet you on behalf of my pack. I offer hospitality to you as guests. I thank you for your aid in this time and pledge equal aid in dealing with the death mage threat in this area,” Lucinda answered formally, invoking Morgan’s Code for inter-group relations. She was probably thrilled to have someone to talk to who was just as by the book as she was.
Riordan wanted to interrupt both of their stupid speeches and just get down to business, but in truth, the speeches weren’t stupid, just aggravating. Dealings between different groups of magic users were complicated, even more so when between shifters and mages since that included an additional cultural divide. This time, there was even a death mage agent to vet before they let him work on Mark. Riordan couldn’t fault Lucinda’s caution even if it also made him want to scream.
He grit his teeth and stayed out of the way. As a peace offering, he placed the small sledgehammer down, but Riordan didn’t dare drop out of a neutral stance. Even crossing his arms would make him less prepared to react to the unexpected. His uncomfortable attitude seemed to catch the eye of Agent Quinn who rolled his eyes at him, grinning impishly, and shrugged.
The ghosts were less quiet, feeling perfectly free to speak over Agent Ahlgren and Lucinda as those two continued to check each other’s credentials and resources.
“So,” Daniel started slowly, his eyes on the two strange ghosts, “Am I going to end up as freaky as both of you?”
“Only if you run afoul of a particularly nasty death mage and they use you as part of some spell,” the patchwork one said. Their voice still lacked much inflection and their expression remained flat, but Riordan thought they were amused. “Most mages can’t see ghosts, much less affect us with magic, which is why my creator considered me an excellent weapon.”
“Ah…,” Daniel said, his eyes flicking over to Quinn and then to Riordan. “Were you created by that agent-- the agent who can totally hear me. Right. Still getting used to this. Wait, it’s weird to cast magic on ghosts?”
Quinn’s grin flickered out, one dark eyebrow arching up behind his screening bangs instead. “Very weird. Pretty much only death mages deal with ghosts magically and we try to keep those rare.”
Both Agent Ahlgren and Lucinda turned towards Quinn when he spoke, stopping their conversation mid-sentence. The death mage threw his hands in the air. “The ghosts are talking, alright? I’m not crazy. I’d say ask tall, dark, and brooding over there, but I’m not sure he’d sound any less crazy.”
Riordan bristled at the implication, even though he knew it was fact that he unnerved most people when he talked to Daniel. It was awkward when half the people in the room couldn’t see the other half. He was glad three of them were intangible though. These motel rooms were not equipped to hold the nine people in here. Six was still not great, especially with four clustered by the door. Quinn still didn’t look like he could get past the rest of them to get out of that corner.
Quinn pointed at the invisible ghosts, starting with the patchwork one and then the blind girl. “I have Zeren and Ingrid with me. They provide support for me. And then there is a ghost here who seems to be haunting you all?”
“Haunting Riordan specifically,” Daniel supplied helpfully, “Since he’s protecting the ghosts from the killing tree and all. I’m Daniel.”
“Protecting?” Quinn sounded startled, but also strangely pleased. He turned that piercing gaze of his back to Riordan. “Interesting.”
Riordan hated the interest, especially since Maudy, Lucinda, and Ahlgren all turned towards him as well. Fuck it. If they were going to pay attention to him, Riordan was going to use that.
He swept a hand out towards Mark. “So, how do we help him?”