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Shiloh’d done as Caelius had asked, had finished his mission though the minute he handed the artifact back to Mark he’d found himself back on Deus and the Death lead presumably busy with whatever the hell had gone on in that place. He was stronger now, even if he was only a phantom of his former self, and as a heads up, he rapped his knuckles against Caelius’ door and waited a moment before proceeding to phase his head through the door and into the office, peeking in, half not wanting to anger the lead and half not wanting to barge into anything unpleasant. He had enough nightmares as it was without learning what Caelius did with his private time.

He only had a vague idea of what had happened over the past week, only that whatever sort of dungeon that had been, people had come out of it alive and okay. He had many questions, and though he knew the likelihood of answers was slim, it didn’t stop him from asking them.

“Sir?”

Shiloh wasn’t sure whether he’d walked into geometry or shop class, but he was grateful that Mark had the sense, and Caelius’ the laziness, to not let power tools into the Death lead’s hands. He shuddered a little as Mark walked right through him, table and all, and out the door. It was still a bizarre feeling to be walked through and it wasn’t one he intended to get used to, if he could help it.

“I’m here with my best interests in mind,” he answered, stepping further into the room so that all of him was present. He obviously felt differently than what Caelius’ eye twitch suggested the Death lead felt. Caelius had suggested that he held the power to revive him, and in turn end him, and he hadn’t done the latter yet, most likely because it was simply too much effort, but it was enough that he hadn’t done it to allow Shiloh to hold onto his hope. Thus, Shiloh was here, hoping to renegotiate terms.

His gaze fell to the magazines lying half open on the desk, and he glanced back at Caelius curiously. He couldn’t resist.

“Redecorating, sir?”

Shiloh paled, if that were even possible. It was always so pleasant meeting with Caelius, how could he have forgotten. He did, however, have no desire to spend the rest of eternity decorating his desk, and so he quickly reined in his nerves, keeping an eye on the hourglass. He didn’t doubt Caelius’ interior decorating abilities, nor the lead’s desire to imprison him in a tiny bottle, but Shiloh had what he hoped was at least a little bit of leverage this time. He could still be useful.

“I completed the mission, sir, and am here for follow up. I can't exactly write a report. Mark is alive and well, I see.” Shiloh, however, was still cold and dead. “Is there anything else I might be of assistance with? Perhaps in exchange for a more solid future?”

He eyed the bottle, and got to the point.

“The Circles. I don’t know what sort of double deal Sam is playing with them, she’s something called a Speaker, but I’m sure you’re aware of that. However, there’s now another initiate Hunter on the island, chosen by someone called the Judge. A Courier, whatever that means.”

Shiloh’s expression had hardened. He remembered the scene vividly. He had obviously not known as much about Lucky as he’d thought, but he’d always pegged the quiet man as a decent guy, not a murderer. He wanted to believe that he was wrong, but Lucky had admitted to it, had played along as if it was nothing and the Circles weren’t stupid. He was sure they wouldn’t take someone on unless they’d properly fulfilled all requirements and all Shiloh could think of was what poor hunter had suffered their life for what? Maybe Deus was just as screwed up, but in his mind stooping to the same level didn’t make the Circles any better. They weren’t just, they were hypocritical at best, ruthless in their black and white ideology.

Murder had been a touchy subject with Shiloh as of late.