Heir of the Phoenix: Queen of Death

Chapter 9: Death & Tea

Esme and I decide to walk the two blocks to Abi's.

Esme is chipper as we head away from Wicham. There is a lightness about her that makes her smile infectious. She explains that she can breathe without continuously seeing wars in her head.

Merchants offer us their wares on the street. I am almost sold on a hotdog on a stick before Esme pulls me away. We head down to Primera, where we are met by a large group of mortals protesting outside the Aetherium. The glass-shrouded building glints and glimmers against the waning sun, casting bright light spots on the protesters.

The protesters gather around a singular individual with messy shoulder-length hair and a defined five-o'clock shadow. His vest is filled with patches that move with the thrust of his arm. His voice, like a thunderous echo through the air horn, calls for equal rights, its power reverberating through the crowd.

"We deserve to be part of the Collective!"

We stop to watch as he ensnares the group with his words. Mortals have been campaigning for representation among the supernaturals for a long time. They'd been shut down repeatedly, primarily due to their long reputation with how they handled the world.

The witch trials did nothing to help them.

Our eyes lock briefly. I fight hard not to invade his mind. I wonder what he must be thinking and feeling. Despite being a considerable part of the population, mortals are a mystery to me. Their thoughts, feelings, and motivations have been told only through history books. But they can't be that bad.

"Shame. They must feel so powerless. Because they are." Esme says.

Esme pulls me away as the chanting starts again. The other protesters thrust their signs in the air, and their voices speaking in unison make the chant bolder. I sneak one more glance at the dynamic leader before we head away from the Aetherium.

The Aetherium glimmers even after we arrive at the cafe. My dream has come roaring back. The winding hallways, the black fingernails, and the cloaked figures. I've never been inside the Aetherium, so how can I be sure it's not just a dream?

And the orbs.

I've heard there are orbs that tell stories of the past. They are messages recorded like floppy disks or cassette tapes. I could have easily transferred stories I've heard to a fever dream. It's happened before.

"What do you want?"

The question catches me off guard. The woman with lilac eyes asks over dulcet astrai music. She wipes her hands on her green apron. Her bored expression tells me she said it just as she meant it.

"Well?" She asks.

"Mint Tea, please."

The woman types in order, her bored expression unchanging. I stand silently, awaiting further instruction or acknowledgment that my order was placed. "Kid, swipe the card."

I quickly tap my phone against the reader, and the words "Approved" appear on the screen. I don't wait for her to speak again before I slide out of line and join Esme, who is also waiting for her order.

"She's friendly," Esme says.

"Yeah, like a Doberman."

"Pretty crazy," Esme says. I blink at her, and she laughs. "Have you been zoning out? Thinking too much about Aisling?"

I scoff. "Aisling? No, I'm sorry. I just had this weird dream about—never mind."

"I was talking about the mortals. They spent all their time thinking they were the apex, burning us, hunting us to make sure we didn't exist, only to become the lowest on the food chain." Esme says.