#Chapter125
I knew he was. I had messaged him back in advance, but it seemed polite to ask. She nodded, flipped the counter for me to squeeze through and pointed to the back room. /"He's in the kitchen. Kindly tell him that if what was in the fridge was for him, I would have put his name on it./"
I promised I would and made my way into the back. The kitchen was a cosy little slab that seemed to merge between a modern home and industrial. There was a walk-in freezer that Deacon had joked that they stored the bodies of all those that they had cursed—he kept mocking me because I was still convinced that he had used some sort of hoodoo on me—and a storage unit, but they were not really used.
