"Password?"
"You knew I would."
Now he stood before a door that looked like any other: black paint peeling, a brass knocker shaped like a sleeping fox. He knocked twice. A slot opened. Eyes — neither kind nor cruel — studied his face. eye wide shut
They circled the room. On a dais, a ritual he couldn't name was unfolding — slow, deliberate, not quite a dance, not quite a prayer. The guests watched with the stillness of those who have stopped pretending to be shocked. "Password