All three of them stayed in silence for a bit after that morbid and self-destructive declaration–Riordan because he was done talking, Billy and Ellis because they were digesting what Riordan had said.

Billy ran a hand through his dark brown hair and blew out a breath. “Right. Now I feel even worse for not visiting you sooner. You’ve done so much for us and we’ve done a piss poor job of giving back to you.”

Riordan shrugged, in no mood for another argument. He did what he did for survival and to save the ghosts. And, sure, to save Billy and the cultists and to stop the death mages. Forgiveness and belonging to a pack were dreams he denied himself, not expectations.

“Well, I’m here now,” Billy said. “So let me set some of these misunderstandings straight. The pack respects you.”

Riordan snorted and shook his head. “Bullshit. Vera can barely stand my presence. Everyone else except the shaman and Norris avoids me.”

“You intimidate them,” Billy restated, emphasizing his point.

“I scare them. Death mages are evil, after all.”

Billy sighed, glancing over at Ellis, who shook his head. Billy said, “Maybe some of them. Death mages are myths. To have some show up here and threaten pack members… They are shaken. For most of the pack though, it’s not about the death mage thing.”

“What other problem do they have with me then?” Riordan asked dryly.

“Not a problem. You’re just, well, a shaman.”

Riordan blinked. “What?”

“You’re a shaman. Even in a pack like ours that was lucky enough to have three, that still means respect and caution. Shaman are hard to approach socially. Why? How were shaman in your old pack?”

Riordan cast his mind back to his experiences with pack shaman. In his birth pack, they were teachers, advisers, and wise men. They guided the pack, but Riordan kept his distance from them outside of lessons and pack rituals. He hadn’t appreciated their knowledge and role properly then, willfully ignorant with all the arrogance of youth.

His second pack had been a formality. Riordan had been a member, but he had also been a young man just striking out on his own and a military recruit. He’d interacted with the shaman of that pack even less, aside from the formal welcoming and leaving ceremonies.

His last pack, his little squad of shifter mercenaries, were far smaller and less formal. Kwaku, their shaman, had the air of a scholar but also of a military specialist. He had the inner world of a shaman, but didn’t stand as the moral and philosophical pillar of the pack as a regular pack shaman would, content to let his friends make their own choices as equals with nothing more than the occasional gentle ribbing.

Riordan wondered if his pack could have been saved if Kwaku had taken a stronger stance on their moral compass, but then dismissed the thought. They had all made their choices, Riordan included, and he wouldn’t dodge responsibility.

Still, Riordan saw Billy’s point. Pack shaman were the heart of a pack, but also… other. They were like a thumb, kept at a distance to provide perspective and grip.

Riordan shook his head. “I’m not a pack shaman.”

Billy waggled a finger at him. “Stop that. You know what I mean. Even if you aren’t comfortable with the title yet, Mother Bear made you into a shaman and then you acted as one, supporting those ghosts and providing magical aid against death mages, almost to death or worse. You are a shaman and a guest of the pack.”

“So everyone is going to keep avoiding me?” Riordan grumbled, indirectly ceding the point to Billy.

“You were hurt.” Ellis’s voice, while quiet, cut into the conversation.

“What?”

Ellis looked embarrassed, but continued, “You were hurt while helping us, while showing you were a shaman. Physically, but also magically. The death mage thing. You looked like you wanted space to recover.”

Billy chipped in, pleased that his brother had spoken up, “Spending all your time with the shaman or meditating or off in your cabin alone reinforces that impression. So you are a visiting shaman, one who sacrificed for us, who is being helped and healed by the pack shaman. Like I said, you intimidate them.”

Accepting his words meant reframing every interaction Riordan had with the pack, from the pack leader on down. He groaned, flopping back against his seat, and ran a hand over his face.

Then he flipped Billy off, because fuck him for forcing Riordan to think about this stuff.

Billy burst out laughing again. Riordan hid his own smile behind his hand, quietly grateful that Billy could still laugh like that after what he’d been through recently. The enforcer was resilient and stubborn, for sure.

“So what else can I help you gentlemen with?” Riordan asked dryly, “Now that you are done skewing my world view.”

“Fixing it, dumbass” Billy challenged with a ridiculous eyebrow waggle. “We let you wallow in your ‘woe is me’ isolation long enough.”

“Fuck you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t swing that way.”

“Do you swing at all? I don’t see you paired up.”

“Billy got dumped by his last girlfriend last year,” Ellis offered helpfully, as a brother should, “She said he spent too much time working.”

“My job is important! I couldn’t help it if I got called out on emergencies,” Billy grumbled good naturedly. “I’ll find a woman who gets that eventually.”

Riordan just shook his head, ignoring the squeeze in his heart at the friendly banter. Daniel joked with Riordan like that and it meant the world to him and now here were Billy and Ellis, doing the same thing. Like he could be a friend.

Riordan missed having friends. It was just going to take time to get used to the idea that he was allowed to have friends now. He’d spent years reinforcing patterns of thought and behavior based on the idea that he was a worthless sinner who deserved to be alone and to suffer.

As much as Riordan harped on other people not forgetting he’d been an exile, it was Riordan himself who most struggled to forgive and forget. To accept Mother Bear’s judgment that he’d paid his due.

“Anyway,” Billy said, cutting off any more teasing before they could get started, “I came by to check on you and I’m glad I did. Clearly, we need to start involving you in more pack stuff so people can get over their nerves about you.”

Like that was going to happen. Riordan raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Okay, that does it.” Billy popped up to his feet. He stumbled slightly, remnant weakness from his own recovery, but caught himself. Neither Riordan nor Ellis mentioned it, though Riordan saw Ellis’ hands twitch with the urge to catch his brother.

“What does it?” Riordan asked.

“We’re going out. Come on.”

Riordan didn’t budge. “I need more than that. I’m supposed to be studying.”

“Do you trust me?” Billy asked.

“Last time I followed you, you were mind controlled by death mages,” Riordan pointed out, “I think I’m entitled to a bit of explanation this time.”

Billy grimaced. “Fair, though I tried to…”

“I know,” Riordan said before Billy could go too far down that mental rabbit hole of guilt, “I trusted you to fight it and to put the pack first. You did both.”

“Not enough,” Billy sighed. “It wasn’t enough.”

“Sometimes our best isn’t enough. That’s why we are meant to have a pack.” Riordan changed the subject, making an intentionally dramatic sigh. “I suppose I can trust you if I have to. You better not be leading me into some sort of compromising position though. I do not consent to breaking the ice with the pack by playing the fool.”

“Nothing like that,” Billy hurried to reassure Riordan. “I had plans for this afternoon and I think it would be good for you to come along. It’s nothing too dangerous or strenuous. I’m still recovering and all.”

Ellis made a noise like he didn’t entirely agree, but also didn’t argue. Still, Riordan got the idea that Ellis was coming along to keep his brother from overdoing it as much as anything else. Which was fair. Riordan had done his fair share of dumb things out of sheer stubborn refusal to acknowledge his own limits before.

“Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?” Riordan grumbled. He stood, taking the time to put his textbook away on the shelf properly. “I need to let Frankie know where I’m going and get permission for Ellis to be my babysitter.”

“Not me?” Billy asked, pretending offense.

“Aside from the fact that Ellis is more responsible, I’m pretty sure that the Department and the Pack Council wouldn’t be thrilled if Frankie trusted someone recovering from death magic control with watching over the death mage,” Riordan said, shrugging.

“Fair enough. Let’s go find us a shaman.”

Frankie was stuck in meetings for the day–part of the reason she’d given Riordan reading to do for the day, aside from the fact that Riordan really needed more foundational information–but a quick text message exchange and a phone call where Riordan handed the phone to Ellis for a bit provided them permission to leave the property.

“Whoo,” Riordan said, slipping his phone back into his pants pocket. “I get to go on the play date.”

“I keep telling you,” Billy quipped, “still not gay. Or a three-year-old.”

“I’m not sure if you are calling me a toddler or implying I’m a pedo,” Riordan countered as the three of them made their way towards the increasingly parking area.

“Toddler, definitely,” Ellis put in. “Because it takes one to know one.”

“Ouch, your brother is brutal,” Riordan mock complained to Billy. The teasing brought back memories of his time in the military, surrounded by men who used humor to hide their worries or to bond with a team. Riordan could see that Billy was using the same tactic to try and ease Riordan into relaxing around the pack.

“I’m okay with this,” Billy declared. “Toddlers get the best snacks and regular nap times.”

Rather than grab one of the pack vehicles, Ellis led the way to a sensible four-door personal vehicle. Apparently either Ellis or Billy had a surprising secret side because the back was covered in bumper stickers of children’s cartoons.

Ellis blushed, seeing Riordan look at the stickers, before sliding into the driver’s seat. Answer enough, Riordan guessed. Billy took the passenger seat, leaving Riordan to fold his bulk into the one clear seat in the back despite being a good five plus inches taller than either of the brothers.

Boxes took up the other seats, smelling like… fabric and laundry soap. Riordan eyed them curiously. “Just where are we going again?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”