Chapter Ninety-One:
Of Bloodsong and Morning Hunger: The Witch, the Knife, and the Sausage Divine
—
The elevator chimed with mechanical cheer, as if it hadn't just been used to transport two wildly incompatible energies in an enclosed steel coffin.
One of them was Elias, a high-strung culinary prodigy with the emotional grace of a stressed-out warthog. The other was Keyla—technically part of Sophia's cult, more accurately a gleeful murder-pixie with an oral fixation and zero respect for personal boundaries.
The elevator ride had lasted thirty seconds. To Elias, it was an eternity of giggled threats and unsolicited commentary.
"You go whip up some brekky, okay, grumpy-pants?" Keyla chirped sweetly as she practically shooed the man toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna go wake up Mr. Apollo."
She didn't wait for a reply. Elias was already speed-walking toward the opposite end of the apartment like he was being chased by a swarm of bees armed with daddy issues.
