Norris stopped again and turned back to Riordan. His expression now wasn’t assessing but highly concerned. “Sleep is very important. If you need help--”

“No,” Riordan interrupted, shaking his head, “I don’t know how much you caught of what I told the pack leader last night. The death ritual I’m under makes it so I enter the spirit realm whenever my body is sleeping. And you can’t really sleep in the spirit realm, near as I can tell. Closest I’ve run into is passing out when there is enough damage to the soul, which is less sleeping and more spiritual recharging.”

“That’s terribly unhealthy.”

“Oh, I can tell. I did my best to rest, but it’s-- I was hoping to speak to your shaman and see if any of them know of something that might help.”

That suggestion seemed to reassure Norris, the old man visibly brightening. “Yes, that is an excellent idea. Frankie is a font of knowledge. I’ll direct her your way if I run into her first.”

They made the rest of their way to the kitchen in a companionable silence. Daniel trailed along, poking his head through walls sometimes when curiosity got the better of him, but didn’t share anything he saw in the various rooms. Riordan wasn’t surprised. This was the public part of the pack house, meant for guests and groups. Even the private sections of the pack house were probably mundane too. He didn’t get the impression that this pack had anything to hide and secrecy was more for privacy and habit.

Now the shaman’s space, that would have interesting items and information if Daniel could enter. It was also the most dangerous place for Daniel in pack lands. Riordan hoped Daniel remembered the lesson from the statues about caution around magic.

People bustled around in the dining room when they entered. Riordan was surprised that he was allowed around more pack members after Vera’s decision, but he realized that it was less about permission for him than about how little inconvenience they were willing to go through for his sake. Norris didn’t introduce Riordan to anyone, leading him straight through to the kitchen proper.

Covered food sat on the counter that divided the kitchen from the dining space. Norris handed Riordan a plate and gestured for him to help himself. All the dishes were warm but not fresh from the oven and some things were completely gone already. The main dinner was clearly over. Riordan was being offered the leftovers. That felt like a kick to the gut, but he bit back the urge to say anything. They were giving him hospitality, just not welcome. They weren’t required to do more, nor did he necessarily deserve more.

That ugly twisted feeling in his gut stayed with Riordan the whole time he ate. He didn’t even bother to leave the kitchen, leaning against the counter to eat, the delicious food tasting like ash and sitting like lead. The cheerful camaraderie in the dining room made a counterpoint to his isolation. A woman bounced a toddler on her hip, talking with what appeared to be a married man and woman. Their conversation rambled from what to expect from pregnancy to the frustrations of trying to homeschool a child until they were old enough to know how to keep magic secret. Not every pack was large enough to have their own private school for the kids, but parents would band together to teach the kids until they could safely interact with regular humans.

Thinking of pack schools killed the rest of Riordan’s appetite. He set his plate aside and turned to Norris. “I need-- Is there some work I could do? Preferably something physical?”

Norris glanced at the dirty dishes still near the sink and then over at the pack members in the dining room. He offered a sad smile to Riordan. “Of course. Are you any good at repair or gardening?”

“Not gardening,” Riordan quickly dismissed. He’d never had exposure to it in his nomadic lifestyle, plus the last thing he wanted to do right now was to grow more plants. “I’m decent at repair and construction. I did a lot of handyman work while drifting.”

“There’s a few things I can think of then,” Norris went back to his cheerful efficiency, now that he had a helpful direction to go that didn’t require him to address Riordan’s general treatment by the pack. Riordan couldn’t help feeling bitter that even this man’s seemingly boundless kindness was tempered by putting the pack over Riordan, but he couldn’t blame Norris. The old man had been placed in a difficult position and was doing better at being a host than Riordan had expected.

They had to make a detour to find Riordan some shoes. Norris explained that Riordan’s own clothing and shoes were being cleaned and would be returned, but Riordan knew that his gear was in poor shape after the abuse he put it through. He hoped that his combat boots had survived their soaking and thick layer of mud. After some searching, Riordan was outfitted with a new package of white socks and a pair of gently used sneakers in his size. The shoes were definitely not his first choice and he felt more and more like a retiree in his borrowed clothes. It would do for the day and he chose not to comment.

Daniel made up for his silence with a running commentary narrating what he imagined Norris must be thinking as he dressed Riordan, which alternatively made Riordan laugh or blush. The young man had a filthy mind sometimes, but Riordan was hardly going to stop him. He could tell Daniel was using humor to cope again. Besides, laughing felt good. He still didn’t translate any of Daniel’s comments for Norris, no matter how many curious looks the old man gave him.

With shoes obtained, Norris led Riordan out of the pack house. Riordan hadn’t been able to get a clear view of the area the night before. The forest had been pushed back from the rambling pack house, leaving space for a gravel parking area and a large vegetable garden. A field stretched off past the parking area and house. Several other buildings sat at different positions around the field, a looping dirt drive sprouting off of the parking and circling the area. Norris did not explain what the buildings were for, but one looked like a small clinic and another was clearly for shaman use, covered in wind chimes and potted plants with an herb garden around it.

They went across the field and out into the forest, even crossing the drive and passing a small dumpster sitting there. A short path led to a cluster of three cottages in disrepair. Structures which had probably been a shed and chicken coop leaned dangerously.

“We haven’t had to use these for a while, ever since the pack house expansion finished. Some of the parents were worried about the state of them though and we’ve been fixing the cottages. Really though, those outbuildings just need to come down before they fall on someone.”

Norris punctuated his explanation with dragging Riordan into one of the cottages. Inside, they found two toolboxes, work gloves, safety glasses, and a ladder. Riordan donned the safety gear, preferring protection to healing. If he’d had the energy to spare, he’d partial shift to have thicker skin, but he just couldn’t risk that in his current state for any significant period of time. A wheelbarrow sat outside the house, along with a cooler full of water bottles.

“This should give you plenty to dismantle or repair,” Norris said, “Just remember that it doesn’t matter how much you get done. Just do what you need to and leave the rest. I’ll be back at the pack house if you need me.”

“You’re going to leave me here alone?” Riordan asked, surprised.

“Are you going to cause trouble?”

“Not my intention, sir,” Riordan answered honestly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “I just need--”

He trailed off but Norris nodded like he had completed his sentence. “Exactly. I’ll let Vera know where you are, so you might have someone come by to check on you occasionally, but I’ll try to get you privacy at least.”

Support would have been nice, community and welcome, but Riordan would take privacy if those things weren’t an option. “Thank you. Ah, when you speak to Vera, let her know I have more information for her about the previous victims. Duane has been collecting information from the other ghosts and putting it together for us.”

Norris didn’t question who Duane was or how that all worked. He just confirmed he would and left Riordan to work. It was still early evening, which gave Riordan plenty of time before dark to work, probably more time than he was physically well enough for actually.

Still, the feeling of ripping apart rotting wood with his hands and a sledgehammer he found was distinctly satisfying. Riordan let his mind wander while he did something so purely physical. He pushed harder than he should, but working up a sweat felt cleansing. A strange shifter stopped by after about an hour to check on him, but Riordan ignored them and they went away not long afterwards.

He stripped off his shirt when he began to overheat, rolling his eyes at Daniel’s teasing whistle. The ghost’s quiet company soothed the ache of being isolated from the shifter pack. A ghost pack might not be the same thing, especially one made of human ghosts whose experiences were so foreign to Riordan, but he wasn’t alone. That made a huge difference.

About the time half the shed joined the chicken coop in the dumpster and twilight was draping across the land, Riordan became aware of eyes watching him. He stopped mid-swing and pulled back to look around. Frankie stood beside one of the cottages, watching Riordan. When their eyes met, she moved closer. Her dark eyes swept up and down Riordan in a way that made him feel uncomfortably exposed. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and put his shirt back on.

Frankie just snorted at the gesture before she launched into conversation. “Norris said I needed to look at you before the curse sent you into sleep-deprived hallucinations and you murdered us all.”

Riordan blinked. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how he would have phrased that.”

Frankie dismissed that with a wave of her thin hand, still staring at him with uncomfortable clarity. “Eh, close enough. Well, come on.”

She turned abruptly and started to walk back down the path back towards the drive loop. Riordan was really starting to hate being called along with the same tone most people used on pets and small children. He growled softly, but followed because, damn it, he really needed the help. However much she had been exaggerating, Frankie wasn’t wrong about there being consequences to sleep deprivation.

“Please remind me not to strangle her, Daniel,” Riordan requested quietly.

“Pretty sure she’d kick your butt if you tried,” Daniel stated supportively, “but I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Why do I talk to you again?”

“Because no one else can put up with your grumpy furry butt? Nah, kidding. It’s because we’re friends and you like me.”

Riordan had nothing to say to that because Daniel was right. Still, that didn’t mean Riordan had to admit it. He shut up and followed Frankie back out of the forest.