Assuming he wasn’t part of the trap.

Their current base was in the confines of a small merchant guild, one desperate enough for coin that they’d accepted Garrick’s bribes. As lairs went, it wasn’t the most secretive, but at least it was warm in the winter months, and moderately well furnished. Veliana led them through a side door. Four steps down they stopped at a basement door, with small lamps burning for light at either side. She frowned at the lack of guards. No doubt they were on the inside. Garrick liked having his protectors there with him at all times, even if it wasn’t safer. They should have been out in the cold, keeping watch so they could lock and bar the door if something went awry.

But of course the door was locked and barred anyway when she tried to open it. Rolling her eyes, she knocked twice, then once. She heard the scraping of metal, and then a slit opened to reveal a bloodshot pair of eyes.

“Say the pass,” said the guard.

“Veliana. Now open the damn door.”

There was a password, of course. Three, even, in case she needed to alert them to a hidden threat. But she was in no mood, and she knew the guard on the other side was too spineless to refuse her entrance. The slit closed, and as they heard a loud thumping, Death chuckled behind her.

“Your professionalism is astounding,” he said. “I know I came with few expectations, but still, I feel them failing to be met.”

“Quiet,” she said. “And stay here. I’ll need to introduce you to Garrick first.”

She paused and gave him a glance. The mask hid his face, but she couldn’t fight off the feeling he was smirking at her.

“Just how should I introduce you, anyway?” she asked.

“I told you, I have no name.”

“That makes for a poor introduction. Should I call you Death? It’s a little over the top, but I’ve heard worse.”