At a very different door, Graves and Tenwith paused. Graves inspected the frame, taking note of the archaic symbols barely visible in the grain. Satisfied, he took a few steps back and scanned the area.

“We’re clear, old boy.”

Tenwith jostled within his three piece suit, supressing giggles as he fit an ornate key into the battered lock.

“What’s so funny? Oh, for pity’s sake, using the dead man’s key, are you?”

“It’s not like he was going to make use of it,” Tenwith retorted as the lock clacked over, allowing the door to creak open in a shower of sparks.

“Dreadfully morbid, though, don’t you think?”

Tenwith sighed as the two men began a long walk down a rougly hewn stone tunnel, “Freund, our job is death, either our own or of the witches who so plague this existence. Ye’ve got to be more comfortable with it, or it’ll eat you from the inside.”

Graves didn’t answer, only plodded along hoping the darkness would conceal the worry on his face. Michi was strong, but the child made things complicated.