“As soon as you what?” Riordan blinked at Zeren, wondering if he’d misheard the ghost.

“As soon as I eat the proxy,” Zeren repeated easily, dispelling the notion that Riordan had misheard. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised anymore. His life had ceased to follow the rules of his previous simple if monotonous existence when he was dragged into this mess.

“Right. I guess I better get out of here then and leave you to it,” Riordan paused, knowing what he needed to say but struggling with the words. It should be easier than this to show gratitude. Still, he forced out a gruff, “Thank you. For coming to help.”

Mark smiled at Riordan again, shaking off some of the unease that had settled over him the longer he remained here. “You’re welcome. You might be in for a few unhappy lectures when you wake up, though. Neither Lucinda or Agent Ahlgren were particularly pleased to know you had gone somewhere dangerous in your sleep.”

No one enjoyed being scolded and Riordan enjoyed it even less than most. He stiffened at the warning, strangling down several negative knee-jerk reactions to the idea. “I see,” he finally mumbled, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Was-- Was Agent Morrish also upset?”

“More worried than upset,” Zeren put in, their voice becoming unsettling and echoing as they began to unfold into the multitudinous maw again, “Quinn understands what it is like to be tasked with solving dangerous unique problems that no one is truly an expert in.”

Fuck, but Riordan could really resonate with that sentiment. He was so damn out of his depths. “You two can get back safely?”

Mark held up one hand and a strange glow flashed from something he held. “Entangled beacons. Think of it as part guide cord, part gateway. I had never known such a thing was possible with spatial magic, though it makes sense that would be the basis of the legendary portal ways.”

Riordan understood just enough of that to know he didn’t really get it, but he nodded anyway. “I’ll see you on the other side then.”

With a series of gestures that were becoming increasingly familiar, Riordan opened the gateway from the swamp to the glade, flipping through and into himself until he landed in his stone meditation circle, alone with the quiet. He hadn’t realized how much the suck and slurp of the writhing swamp of death energy had wormed its way into his unconsciousness until the noise was gone, the difference made all the more stark by the shift in ambient auras from fear to peace.

He collapsed, letting his mantle fade entirely and burying his face in his hands. Riordan didn’t weep because he felt drained past tears and past fear. He wanted to laugh at how fucked up his life was that he felt such relief to be in this place, that this creepy little sliver of the spiritual realm that wanted to shove him towards an uncomfortable degree of magic was also his personal refuge.

“Fuck,” Riordan whispered, venting the boiling emotions in profanity. His voice got louder as he launched into a mad spew of foul words as if trying to purge the darkness that seemed to be clinging to him inside and out, just past conscious perception. At last, he came to an end of words, just feeling empty, and pried himself off the ground. He needed to keep moving before they sent someone to look for him again. Reluctantly, he re-summoned the most basic form of his spirit mantle and headed further into the glade, not looking forward to explaining anything to his pack, but knowing he needed to.

Daniel met him first as soon as he exited his part of the maze. To Riordan’s surprise, the young man flung himself at Riordan. His instincts almost punched Daniel, especially after the last day’s stress, but he managed to just freeze instead as the ghost wrapped him up in a tight hug.

“You’re a jerk,” Daniel said, his voice muffled by where he had his face buried against Riordan’s chest. “You sent me back and then you started doing something weird. I felt these ripples of emotion through the pack bond, from both you and something else. And you used more magic and I didn’t see more ghosts show up and you are really a stupid jerk.”

“Ah,” Riordan said awkwardly, realizing that some echo of the spirit-speech had resonated through the pack bond, “I’m sorry. I really did try my best to just do what was needed and leave.”

Daniel pulled back enough to look into Riordan’s eyes, searching for something there. The truth, probably. Riordan noticed that the ghost still wasn’t letting go of him. The touch wasn’t flirty or possessive, just terrified and seeking comfort. Seeking to know Riordan was still here. Daniel had less control over his current existence than even Riordan did, so it was no wonder he was about ready to koala onto him and never let go. Riordan didn’t feel the need to break the contact, willing to provide that reassurance for his friend, even if he couldn’t really make any promises. He really could fuck up and die at any point in time.

“Were you able to help the ghosts?” Daniel asked softly. There was a small crowd of other ghosts in the central clearing, all listening intently even if they didn’t dare approach Riordan so familiarly.

Riordan nodded. “Yes, though you won’t be able to see them. The tree spirit and I worked out a deal, which is probably what you felt. Those new ghosts are separated out and asleep, but protected. I’m hoping it’ll give them a chance to recover. If nothing else, at least they aren’t suffering, which was all I was trying to manage right now.”

“Good,” Daniel said firmly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Now don’t scare me like that again.”

“I’ll try, but we both know I’m going to do it again at some point. I don’t exactly have the best track record for this shit.”

“I guess I’ll have to accept that.” The sigh Daniel heaved was greatly exaggerated to the point of ridiculous and he finally released his hold on Riordan. Once again, Daniel slid all his trauma behind a mask of good humor, soldiering on because they couldn’t stop yet.

“I really need to get back to the physical world before everyone out there assumes I got myself into more trouble.” Riordan’s own sigh was much smaller but very heartfelt. He had zero desire to deal with some of the people he was stuck working with. They were going to treat him like he was an idiot instead of just inexperienced and uneducated. Granted, any of those things had the potential to get him terribly cursed or killed as things stood, but he wasn’t struggling due to a lack of ability. In fact, he was learning damn fast in this crash course crisis. Just not fast enough to make up for years and years of training.

Daniel smiled. “I’ll see you out there then. I’ll update Duane, since at least he can see me enough to take my report.”

It really wasn’t Daniel’s fault that he was dead and largely invisible. He accomplished way more than Riordan would have expected, given that pretty sizable handicap. “Thank you,” Riordan stopped him to say as Daniel turned to leave, “I would have been in serious trouble if you didn’t bring me help.”

Daniel gave an acknowledging nod and then grinned. “Hey, I got a kiss for my trouble. Romance novels tell me that’s worth risking my life for, clearly.”

Riordan couldn’t help snorting a small laugh of his own. “I think that romance novels are not the best guides for how to approach problems, but I’m glad you enjoyed your awkward kiss. Do I need to give Mark a speech about not breaking your heart?”

“I’m dead. I’m pretty sure that puts a major damper on my relationship prospects,” Daniel quipped back, though Riordan could hear the sad truth under the joking, “Besides, with those freckles and dimples, Mark was born to be a heartbreaker. There’s just no hope for it.”

Riordan chose to let that statement stand rather than push either the joke or the bitter loss beneath it. Daniel should have had a long life full of simple petty concerns like romance and fights with his parents. Now he got death mages and being a ghost and having to put up with Riordan’s cranky ass. He waved goodbye to Daniel, trusting his friend to follow along when he had talked with Duane and felt ready to face the mob of well-intentioned mages again. Riordan didn’t get the leisure time since he was the stupid damsel in distress in this situation and needed to go prove that the rescue was, in fact, successful and not a figment of Mark’s imagination.

He returned to his stone circle, took a deep breath, and opened his gateway back to his body.

Waking up in the physical world sucked. Being unconscious rather than asleep meant Riordan didn’t shift around to get comfortable and the motel floor was hardly a luxurious bed in the first place. Combined with the phantom aches from his spiritual injuries, Riordan grunted in discomfort as he came to consciousness. He barely kept himself from punching the people looming over him when he did open his eyes. They were in his personal space, damn it.

“Back off,” Riordan growled, tense and twitching, before adding a very insincere, “Please.”

Quinn responded quickest, rocking back on his heels and then rising to shuffle away from where Riordan lay. Of course, Quinn was the one Riordan could tolerate the most, so it didn’t help relieve his stress much. Ahlgren, Lucinda, and Maudy stayed clustered way too close for his comfort, apparently unable to hear the stress behind his request. They stared at him. Riordan stared back. Then Lucinda and Ahlgren both started to speak at once, their tones scolding, though they cut off to not speak over each other.

Fuck it. Riordan wasn’t in the mood for this shit. Reaching into himself, he called forth his honey badger, shifting forms rapidly. That left him shorter and smaller, easily able to slip between the surrounding mob and dash under the nearest bed. He growled more from the shadows there.

No one spoke for a few seconds before Mark called out from on top of the other bed, “Well, he did ask you to back off.”