Quinn’s hurt expression was abundantly clear even in the dim lighting. He dropped his hands to his side and said, “I really was worried about you, Riordan. I got to see a death mage stab a knife into your chest in order to sacrifice you. I got to watch a whole ritual’s worth of death magic and corruption filter through you as a conduit. I got to watch when they took your limp, barely breathing body down from that tree. And I couldn’t do a damn thing to help. Is it really so hard to believe I meant care? And yes, Adam’s here, but he’s always near me. It’s his job and that’s because of me and not you!”

It was Riordan’s turn to hold up his hands in surrender. “Shit,” he muttered, “Sorry. Give me a moment to… think. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Quinn said sulkily.

Riordan liked Quinn. He hadn’t known the irrepressible man for long, but Quinn was intelligent, talented, and shared a similar self-sacrificing desire to work towards the greater good. He had sent word to Quinn when he’d gotten captured by the death mages and trusted that he would help rescue him, which Quinn did, even if it got complicated and messy and Riordan had to do some saving of his own.

That wasn’t anyone’s fault though. Once the ritual was started, there weren’t many ways to end it cleanly. Hell, even before it got started, the ritual itself was highly problematic. It was a giant stagnant well of death magic sitting in a pocket of the spirit realm tied to the tree spirit and its physical tree. Riordan’s solution to the magic, channeling it out of the spirit realm and into the lands beyond the Veil, was the best one, if he ignored the fact that the cost should have been his own life and sanity.

The tree spirit had fixed that, though, changing the cost into Riordan having to relearn how to use magic. And the changes in responsibility that came with his increasingly complex affinities.

But Quinn cared. He liked Riordan right back and respected him too, despite Riordan being something of a loose cannon. If he was here to check on Riordan, then that was likely true. He cared and he wanted to do good. He wasn’t the sort to screw someone else over just because he was ordered to.

And if he had some personal ulterior motive, well, could Riordan blame him?

He could practically feel the curiosity rolling off Quinn. The mage was curious enough in the best of times, which was part of what made him such a creative caster, but to have another death mage to talk to, someone who had seen beyond the Veil? Someone who had been cured of death corruption? Perhaps the question wasn’t why Quinn was here but rather, how he’d waited so long.

“Want to come inside?” Riordan finally said, stepping towards his cabin.

Quinn nodded enthusiastically, following him inside with another glance towards the shadowed woods where his handler waited. “I just want to remind you, for politeness’ sake, that everything we say is likely going to be heard by Adam as well. Distance is only an illusion of privacy with him, but he is nice enough to allow me that much at least.”

Riordan tilted his head in acknowledgment and flipped on the light in the cabin. The space wasn’t any more exciting than it had been earlier, very spare and minimal. There weren’t any spare chairs, so Riordan gestured towards the bed.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he offered, sitting on the edge of the bed himself to untie his boots and kick them off. “It’s not much, but it’s my illusion of privacy for now.”

Quinn gingerly sat, bouncing slightly as if testing the bed for comfort and springiness. “I take it the pack is watching you as closely as the department watches me? They made it clear in today’s meeting that you were their responsibility and that the department should fuck off in regards to you.”

Riordan snorted, equally amused and grateful that the pack was sticking to their promise. “Did Frankie phrase it like that or was it a bit more diplomatic than that?”

Quinn laughed, finally relaxing enough to sprawl out on the bed bonelessly. Riordan felt a smile tug at the corners of his own lips. That was the way Quinn should be. He might dress like an emo goth kid, all dark clothing, collars, and chains, but it was camouflage to blend in despite the physical effects of his death magic. The real Quinn was hyper, silly, and sharp as a whip crack.

“Actually, Vera was the one talking first. She basically made it clear that if we challenged her over you, she would take us to court. Or war. There was a definite threat, especially with Frankie sitting right there, playing with one of her charms and calling you her student. Our ranking agent backed down. For now, anyway.”

“Ah,” Riordan said, digesting that information. “I take it I should be prepared for more advances from your department.”

“I’m afraid so, but really, what did you expect?” Quinn turned his ghost-grey eyes on Riordan, looking weary and sad. “You are breaking all the rules right now, Riordan, just by existing like you are. People are either going to distrust that and view you as a threat or they are going to treat you as a miracle that they need to study to see if it’s replicable. Or both. And you aren’t in a situation where you have enough leverage to stop them by yourself, are you.”

He might have phrased that as a question, but Quinn’s tone made it clear that he already knew the answer. Riordan also noted that Quinn hadn’t asked Riordan directly about the state of his magic, despite his deep and personally important curiosity. Not that he was saying anything that Riordan didn’t already know, even if he hated everything about it.

Riordan hadn’t asked for any of this. But he also couldn’t complain when the alternative would have just been a really messy death at best.

“I take it you are in the camp of wanting to study me?” Riordan asked, not answering Quinn’s question out loud.

Quinn didn’t push the issue. Instead, his grin grew wider and he shrugged a bony shoulder. “I’m more in the camp of hoping that you figure yourself out and then magically fix me too. But I’m happy to help you study yourself if you want.”

He reached out, laying a hand on Riordan’s arm. The connection felt strangely comfortable and unsettling all at once. Riordan looked away. He didn’t shrug off Quinn’s hand. “I might take you up on that.”

Quinn laughed and stroked his thumb over Riordan’s skin in small circles. “So how are you actually doing anyway? And where’s Daniel at?”

Riordan blinked and looked around. “Huh. I wonder where he went. He was around when Mark and I were eating. He must have left or stayed behind when I headed out. I was rather stuck in my head at the time.”

“Really? He usually sticks to your side like a worried mother hen. I can’t imagine what would have drawn him away, especially without talking to you.”

With an amused smile, Riordan shook his head. “I can imagine something. He’s got someone else to worry over now, even if Mark can’t see Daniel stalking him.”

“Mark?” Quinn sat up straight, finally releasing his hold on Riordan. Riordan tried not to think about why that felt like such a loss. “Why would Daniel be stalking Mark?”

Riordan paused to think about that question and what he could share without breaking confidentiality. Well, it wasn’t like Quinn hadn’t been there for the fight too. “Do you remember what it was like the first time your sense of safety was shattered? Not just the first time you abstractly learned that the world could be dangerous, but the first time you personally were forced to face that feeling, to face the idea of your own death?”

“Oh yes,” Quinn breathed, his words a bare whisper, “That would have been the day I accidentally became a death mage. I understand. And of course, sweet caring Daniel would be drawn to another wounded soul. He seems to have a deep need to take care of others.”

“He really does. He would have been an excellent doctor, but it would have burned him out so quickly. Daniel doesn’t know how to hold anything back once he decides he cares,” Riordan sighed.

Daniel was actually even younger than Mark, a normal human college student who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time after a fight with his parents over switching his major. He’d been on his way to see his aunt. Riordan touched the little charm necklace he was wearing. He’d managed to recover it. Daniel had been wearing it when he died and Riordan had taken it in case he couldn’t go back for the kid’s body, much like the use of dog tags.

That brought him back to the subject he’d been pondering earlier that day. “I want to recover Daniel’s body and see about getting his death officially announced. He deserves to be buried and mourned properly. I offered to tell his family myself, but he was still thinking about what he wanted in regards to that.”

“Hmm,” Quinn made a non-committal noise, clearly thinking hard about something. He absently reached out again, laying his hand over Riordan’s forearm and petting gently. His skin felt sharply cool against Riordan’s own warmth. “That… is necessary, yes. But the investigation is in the hands of the department and the local law enforcement now. Which means doing that will also require you working with them. And we both know that comes with complications.”

As much as he wanted to snap that he’d do it anyway, that Daniel deserved to have someone who cared be the one retrieving his corpse, Riordan forced himself to stop and think. Quinn was just trying to remind him of the potential concerns, not telling him he couldn’t do it. Because Riordan was going to do it. It was just a matter of how and with what risks. He let himself be soothed by the soft petting sensation as Quinn continued to touch him.

And that was weird too. Riordan usually guarded his personal space with aggressive force, but Quinn seemed able to slip past his walls and make Riordan feel safe with him, despite the fact that Quinn was anything but safe as a person. Riordan knew that Quinn wouldn’t ever hurt him on purpose. Even if he constantly second-guessed such feelings, Riordan did trust his instincts. They literally saved his life on multiple occasions.

“Should I be worried about your fellow agents?” Riordan asked.

Quinn shrugged. “Yes and no. They already know you are a death mage and yet somehow uncorrupted. There was no hiding that after how crucial that was to explaining what happened at the ritual. They needed to know that information in order to do proper clean-up and containment, especially with the greater spirit blocking access to the ritual site now. I don’t think any of them are a threat to your safety. But they might be a threat to your freedom.”

“What sort of threat?” Riordan prodded. “You already mentioned they tried to take custody of me before the pack stopped them. Are they going to ignore that and grab me anyway? Or try and convince the pack to surrender me? Or convince me to go with them?”

“The second two, definitely. The first one, I really hope not. It would start a major conflict, one in which the department would be the one who acted illegally. That would really undermine our fledgling legitimacy as law enforcement. The older institutions are already leery of another new organization interfering with the way ‘things have always been done,’ even if it’s necessary to respond to the changing world.”

“Blah,” Riordan shook himself all over and grabbed Quinn’s hand to stop further petting, his nerves feeling a bit overstimulated, “I can deal with a bunch of nagging and manipulation attempts, I guess. I’ll just have to keep a tight rein on my temper. I imagine the legalists on your team would love to throw obscure laws at me if I act aggressively. Anything that can get me labelled as a threat will have to be avoided. Lovely.”

“Think you can handle it?” Quinn asked quietly, “I know you aren’t much pleased with political manipulations on the best of days.”

“Fuck. I’ll have to handle, won’t I. It’s not like I have a choice.”