Padding warily upwards, trying not to let their boots clatter too loudly on the metal stairs, the two men crept towards the heavy, iron-banded door with hearts in their throats.

Cadin, holding his breath without realising, shifted his clammy grip on the rough handle of his blade. He took the lead; not because he had any desire to, but because as the de facto leader of the House of Sin’s more normal workers he couldn’t let anyone else do so. Nervous eyes flicked between Pawel at his side and the door that was now an arm’s length away. The noise from below grated on his nerves as he strained to pick out any signs of life.

It was quiet inside now as far as they could tell. Neither was sure if that was better or worse.

They both paused for a heartbeat, steeling their nerves. Scanning the door-frame for any un-triggered surprises, Cadin finally managed to force his feet the last few steps and slipped silently into the Master of the House’s office. He turned to warn his companion in misfortune not to touch the door itself, but it was unnecessary – Pawel avoided contact with it like it was a serpent. He nodded wordless encouragement to Cadin and they were in.

The interior of the room was dim, almost murky, the one-way glass making up the right-hand wall of windows suffering scant illumination to intrude. Both men looked warily around, searching every shadow before they could bring themselves to move further in to the room. It looked much as it always had; bookcases lined one wall, filled to overflowing with all manner of tomes and grimoires; a heavily-scarred desk of dark cherry wood squatted menacingly to their left, the leather armchair behind it spilling stuffing from the myriad rents and tears – Cadin absently wondered how many atrocities had been planned by the tiefling in that mangled throne – with the stocked drinks cabinet in easy reach; a fireplace set in the wall, its embers long since dead and above that the gleaming, silver-framed mirror. Swallowing thickly, Cadin refused to look into the depths of that thing. He pointedly forced himself not to notice the slowly roiling miasma of green that shone from its face instead of the office’s reflection.

There was no sign of anything else living in the room. Peering into every shadowed corner, both men tried to assuage their nervousness, to convince themselves that they had been imagining things downstairs. But they wouldn’t risk breaking their silence. Both could still inexplicably feel eyes on them as they moved. From in here the screaming alarm bells were muted, distant. They felt isolated from the rest of the House, alone in here with the echoes of nightmares past.

Slowly, softly, they stepped further into the space, weapons at the ready.

Though it was furnished with relative finery compared to the tastes of the man who once occupied it, it seemed somehow melancholic now in its abandonment. There was still the sinister air hanging over the room but without the warlock himself there, it was a pale shadow of what it once was. The familiar memory of tobacco smoke teased the nose, but under that was a hint of something else. Like.. blood and vanilla? Cadin had heard Natalia and Gimmel, two of Aurelius’ most loyal fleshcrafted followers, whispering about how he dwelled now in the cavern hewn out beneath the sprawling grounds of the manse, but he may as well have taken up residence on one of the moons for all Cadin cared. Even if it was true (and most of the men had their doubts) no-one entered the Hole – no-one dared. After this much time, the devil could be dead for all anyone knew.

And would that be a bad thing? he thought, rubbing his hand across a stubbled jaw.

Stirring himself from his bitter reverie, Cadin tapped Pawel’s shoulder – the man jumped slightly, frowned – and jerked his chin to the far side of the room. Circling his hatchet slowly, the other man nodded and started towards the desk. His boots barely made a whisper as they crossed the thick rug on the floor, weight spread evenly on the balls of his feet. Cadin could see Pawel was taut as a bowstring, but then so was he. Keeping his eyes darting around for any hint of threat or danger, Cadin circled the opposite wall of the office until the windows were behind him.

Shaking snarled locks of hair from his eyes, the taller of the two men reached the narrow door set in the far wall behind the large escritoire – it led far down into the bowels of the building, to the tiefling’s personal pain chambers, left to rot along with the rest of his domain. The former assassin’s free hand inched towards it, hand-axe raised in the other, and he grasped the cold brass knob. Breathing shallowly, beads of sweat breaking out on his brow, Pawel turned it. But the door was locked tight. He started to turn back to signal as much to Cadin but a flutter of movement from the shadows beneath the table cut him short.

Cadin heard the soft rustling at the same moment and froze.

They stared at each other for a second, neither daring to move so much as an inch. Finally, mastering his hesitance, Pawel edged closer. Wary, eyes flickering between Cadin and the shadows coiled under the desk, the dark-haired worker laid a hand on the leather armchair. With a shallow inhale he dragged the seat out of the way and made to attack.

Something small and pale burst from the concealing darkness, flying at his face on tattered pinions with a shrill scream. Caught off guard, Pawel yelled in shock, flailed wildly with the weapon in his fist at the swift shape even as Cadin made to roar at him to stop; to try and avert what he could see unfolding before his eyes.

But it was too late. The haft of the axe took the diminutive creature from the air and sent it skittering along the floor of the office.

Oh, fuck, he thought.

From right next to Cadin’s ear, from where he knew no-one was standing a heartbeat ago, there came a low, liquid growl. The image of boiling treacle slid into his mind. The man started to turn, bringing his dirk up, knowing as he had earlier that it wouldn’t help at all. The smell was stronger now, pervasive. Opium and roses? The air shimmered, as a horizon punished by desert heat.

And it was then that all hell broke loose.