Riordan tried to check on Mark after talking with Frankie, but his calls went straight to voicemail and his texts were unanswered. So he called in the big guns.

“Hey, Annie,” he said into the phone. “I’m sorry to bother you. Have you heard from Mark today?”

“No, I have not. Should I be concerned?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t worried, just speculative.

Riordan snorted. “Probably not. He’s in trouble, but it’s more ‘upset mother figures’ plus ‘pending legal cases.’ I’m just trying to figure out if he needs help or is just laying low.”

“Well, he hasn’t called me,” Annie tsked. “I mean, I know I haven’t known either of you long, but I meant it when you could talk to me about anything.”

“I know, which is why I called. I have a couple other ways to track him down. I’ll see about having him call you for advice. At the very least, I suspect you have practice getting authority figures to calm down about a bit of well-intentioned crime.”

“That sounds like a story. Do have him call me,” she agreed.

“Is Daniel with you?” Riordan asked. The ghost had been hanging out with his aunt when he could. Riordan knew it was good for both of their mental health, even if he missed Daniel’s steady company himself.

“He is. Need him for something?”

Riordan smiled. “Daniel’s got one of the fast ways to locate Mark. See if he’d be willing to pop by the tree for me?”

Annie relayed the message for him. He could sense both her curiosity about ‘the tree’ and her knowledge that Riordan wouldn’t answer if she asked. Annie was a smart and patient woman. Riordan could see them letting her in on it all with time.

Riordan could have gone into the spirit realm and spoken to the tree spirit, who would always be able to contact Mark. Indeed, that was his back up plan. Still, that was the magical equivalent of going to the police to find your friend during hide-and-go-seek.

Daniel mostly had to travel the distance between two locations with a few exceptions. He could always appear at either the tree’s location–both physical or spiritual–or Riordan’s location. He also didn’t get tired, wasn’t stopped by walls, and could hitch rides with any other creature, including people in random cars and flying birds. He wasn’t perfect at such travel yet, but the freedom was good for Daniel, as was always having a person to return to who could see and hear him.

As luck would have it, Riordan’s phone rang about ten minutes later.

“You’re having Daniel hunt me down now?” Mark asked.

Riordan laughed. “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

“I got tired of people bothering me. Everyone’s upset.” Mark grumbled. “I’m not stupid. I know what I did was reckless. It was also right and necessary. It’s not about the land.”

Greater spirits and their accompanying places of power represented significant power and resources to the members of the magical community. Those resources were limited and most of them had been claimed for centuries, so new opportunities for a group to set up their own territory were rare. That was why everyone was so up in arms about this and why it had been included in Morgan’s Code in the first place.

Mark hadn’t gone in looking for territory or even a relationship of any sort with the greater spirit. He’d gone in begging for a boon for himself and his friend. His boon came in the form of purpose and the power to back it up.

“I know it’s not about the land for you,” Riordan agreed. “You also know that it is about the land for most of us. You broke the Code.”

“Maybe technically,” Mark said, “but only because people aren’t processing that I’m not the tree’s shaman; I’m its Guardian. Most Guardians are spirits.”

It took Riordan a moment, but he got what Mark meant. “So you aren’t really claiming the territory for anyone because the only ‘person’ you work for now is the tree spirit. Great. You now come with the territory like a buy one, get one deal or a weird couch left behind by previous tenants.”

“Those are highly flattering comparisons,” Mark said dryly. “But not incorrect.”

“So you’ll be fine with whomever gets awarded the territory?”

“I didn’t say that. Think of the territory as a haunted house. I’m the tricksy poltergeist. The tree is the serious haunt. If you’re cool, you can live there just fine. Your stuff might get rearranged, but I’ll also fetch you that towel you forgot to grab occasionally. If you aren’t cool, then you get creepy messages, hair pulling, and your boxes end up in the driveway every morning. And if you are evil, well, the main haunt eats you.”

“That is a weirdly specific metaphor,” Riordan observed.

“Still better than being compared to a forgotten couch.”

“Maybe,” Riordan allowed, unable to stop his smile. “So you’re negotiating with the Department, the pack, and the Council about how the territory gets allotted?”

“I should be,” Mark allowed, “Instead, I’m watching Disney movies on a laptop in the woods. Ursula is convincing Ariel to sign a contract in order to go woo a prince.”

“Are you sure that’s the kind of role model we want the tree having?” Riordan countered, just imagining a greater spirit negotiating contracts like a sea witch.

“Its main role model lately has been you. I think the Disney villains are less dangerous and often smarter than the heroes,” Mark quipped. “Besides, we owed it some Disney and I haven’t seen these movies in years.”

A strange static noise crackled over the phone call and Mark burst out laughing. Riordan asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Daniel pointed out that most of the Disney villains are queer coded and that Ursula is based on a drag queen, which is far from the worst thing that a tree could emulate,” Mark explained.

Ah, so empowered ghosts picked up as static on recording devices, even if he had the ability to understand them in person. Good to know. Also… “What’s a drag queen?”

A loud burst of static crossed the line, making Riordan wince and hold the phone away from his sensitive ears. When it died down, Mark just said, “In short, he wants to know how you missed learning about drag queens while kicking around the streets and promises you an education on queer history and culture.”

“Lovely. I look forward to it,” Riordan said, not really insincerely even. He’d gotten rather detached from the world and that stuff mattered to his friend. That made it worth learning about. “In the meantime, call someone and make your stance clear on the territory stuff before someone drags your former pack through the muck. Also, you should make it clear that you aren’t part of Sleeping Bear anymore.”

Silence met that demand before Mark said quietly, “You’re right. I’ll get on that.”

Riordan was a bit socially clueless, but he thought he understood Mark’s reluctance. “Choices have consequences, Mark. The cost of becoming the tree spirit’s Guardian is that you can’t be under Mother Bear and her territory anymore. They are still your friends and family though, even if they can’t be your pack.”

Honestly, that thought made Riordan hope that a new pack was selected to live in the tree’s territory soon. He knew how hard it was to be without a proper pack as a shifter.

It turned out Mark had been stubborn–as he should be–in defending his role as Guardian for his spirit. He’d grabbed a tent and supplies before moving into the tree’s clearing, putting him out of the reach of anyone who wanted things from him or wanted to berate his choice. It was a ballsy move, making his stance quite clear, but did not soothe any ruffled feathers.

Riordan expected Mark would have calmed down and emerged on his own in another couple days. The man was naturally patient, kind, and possessing spiritual fortitude. Still, his world had undergone a massive shift and he needed time to process it, time that most people weren’t willing to give him properly.

By the end of their phone call, Mark promised both to speak with any diplomats about the official business of territory–relevant to his role as Guardian–and to call Aunt Annie for emotional support and advice–relevant to the poor human side of Mark. Between those two promises, Riordan expected things to go a little more smoothly, though his faith in political arbitration was practically nonexistent.

Riordan personally considered Mark as his own new pack entity, even as a single person. Negotiations should be directed at him and focus on finding compatible settlers. Instead, pride and tempers were high, causing negotiations to be directed at the Sleeping Bear pack, something that was likely exasperated by the supposed neutral Department.

At this point, Riordan could just see some arrogant pack being awarded the territory, moving in, and then, as Mark put it, getting eaten by the tree. He only hoped someone in authority stopped things from going that far.

Underneath it all, Riordan couldn’t help but think he was missing layers. Or, fuck, maybe players would be a better word. This had developed from emergency measures and investigations into damned politics, the worst swear word of them all. The chance to finagle a legal claim on a new territory would bring the greedy out of the woodwork.

Only this wasn’t just some basic territory. This territory was basically tasty death mage bait, one centered around a greater spirit who was new and active rather than old and melded into the natural world. Riordan could envision a ton of approaches to this problem that could go wrong and found it strange that the Department wasn’t delaying for more danger assessments.

The whole thing felt messy and wrong to Riordan. He didn’t like it.

But what could he do about it? Riordan was an outsider; everyone had made that abundantly clear. Worse, he was a death mage in questionable status and a former exile. No one in their right mind was going to invite him into important meetings.