Cearno’s.”
We all departed without a word, too shaken to speak about it.
9.
CEARNO’S WAS QUIET. Only a few lonely patrons sipped teas and coffees behind their books or newspapers. A couple spoke softly to each other in a dimly lit corner, and then there was Cearno himself, cleaning behind the counter.
From what William had told me, Cearno could never escape the hordes of customers that would always find him. His ability was too enjoyable for it to be kept to himself. Everything he prepared turned out irresistibly delicious. He was a master of taste. Even the simple passion fruit iced tea I was slowly savoring filled my mouth with such magnificent sweet and tangy flavor I felt like each sip was an experience.
Paul had opted to go with Sam and Nics, claiming someone had to act as mediator between the two, so William, Rachel and I waited in a corner booth for them to show up. Nobody spoke a word as we sat there, and as time passed, tension and silence held us captive. I finally had to break the ice.
“Is he going to get arrested?” I blurted out. I couldn’t contain the frustration in my voice. Why weren’t they talking about it? If something was going to happen to him, wasn’t there anything we could do? It was like watching herds of sheep scatter aimlessly, afraid of the wolf, but making themselves more vulnerable in the hunt. “What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know,” William answered without confidence.
“Well, what’s the situation here?” I prodded. His lack of assurance made me nervous. “What’s the worst thing that could happen to him?”
“They could kill him,” Rachel answered with disgust. “Isn’t that their fix-all solution?” The sarcasm was obvious as she spoke, even through her ever-cheery disposition, but I had to make sure she wasn’t serious.
“They wouldn’t kill him, right?”
“No,” William answered for her. “They wouldn’t kill him.” But even he seemed unconvinced of his own words, like it was something he was hoping for rather than something he knew for sure.
Rachel huffed and went back to concentrating on her straw, an apparent sign of her skepticism. Nobody really knew what would happen. Would they kill off one of their own kind for something as trivial as this? My heart began to jump in awkward patterns again.
“How did this happen?” I mumbled to myself.
“What?” asked Rachel, her curiosity piqued.
“This, The Council . . . who are they? I mean, did you elect these people into office or . . .”
“ Elect? ” Rachel said with a chuckle, combing her golden locks out of her eyes. “Where did you hear that? The Council is far from the elect.”
“I guess I had just assumed the communities were a democracy.”
It was hard to believe that a group of people capable of such miraculous abilities would ever be ruled unwillingly.
“The Council has claimed they are the rightful heirs for thousands of years. It’s like a royal family. You don’t really get to vote anyone in or out. You just hope that the next generation straightens things out, which clearly, they haven’t.”
William was preoccupied, his eyes busy finding each person in the coffee house and evaluating their every move. I wondered if his paranoia was as obvious to Rachel as it was to me.
“You guys shouldn’t talk about this here.” His tight lips and hunkered brow added to his serious tone, but he was too handsome for it to have any affect.
“Hasn’t anyone tried to overthrow them?” I asked.
There was a long pause while Rachel offered William the opportunity to answer, but he looked away, and she gladly kept on.
“They’re Descendants of first generation Olympians,” said Rachel, enjoying the heat of the conversation. “It’s not possible.”
William threw her an ice cold look that said more than I understood. I took it as an overreaction, a symptom of his worry.
“First generation? Like Zeus?” I pushed on.
“Exactly. There are six of them.” She
We all departed without a word, too shaken to speak about it.
9.
CEARNO’S WAS QUIET. Only a few lonely patrons sipped teas and coffees behind their books or newspapers. A couple spoke softly to each other in a dimly lit corner, and then there was Cearno himself, cleaning behind the counter.
From what William had told me, Cearno could never escape the hordes of customers that would always find him. His ability was too enjoyable for it to be kept to himself. Everything he prepared turned out irresistibly delicious. He was a master of taste. Even the simple passion fruit iced tea I was slowly savoring filled my mouth with such magnificent sweet and tangy flavor I felt like each sip was an experience.
Paul had opted to go with Sam and Nics, claiming someone had to act as mediator between the two, so William, Rachel and I waited in a corner booth for them to show up. Nobody spoke a word as we sat there, and as time passed, tension and silence held us captive. I finally had to break the ice.
“Is he going to get arrested?” I blurted out. I couldn’t contain the frustration in my voice. Why weren’t they talking about it? If something was going to happen to him, wasn’t there anything we could do? It was like watching herds of sheep scatter aimlessly, afraid of the wolf, but making themselves more vulnerable in the hunt. “What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know,” William answered without confidence.
“Well, what’s the situation here?” I prodded. His lack of assurance made me nervous. “What’s the worst thing that could happen to him?”
“They could kill him,” Rachel answered with disgust. “Isn’t that their fix-all solution?” The sarcasm was obvious as she spoke, even through her ever-cheery disposition, but I had to make sure she wasn’t serious.
“They wouldn’t kill him, right?”
“No,” William answered for her. “They wouldn’t kill him.” But even he seemed unconvinced of his own words, like it was something he was hoping for rather than something he knew for sure.
Rachel huffed and went back to concentrating on her straw, an apparent sign of her skepticism. Nobody really knew what would happen. Would they kill off one of their own kind for something as trivial as this? My heart began to jump in awkward patterns again.
“How did this happen?” I mumbled to myself.
“What?” asked Rachel, her curiosity piqued.
“This, The Council . . . who are they? I mean, did you elect these people into office or . . .”
“ Elect? ” Rachel said with a chuckle, combing her golden locks out of her eyes. “Where did you hear that? The Council is far from the elect.”
“I guess I had just assumed the communities were a democracy.”
It was hard to believe that a group of people capable of such miraculous abilities would ever be ruled unwillingly.
“The Council has claimed they are the rightful heirs for thousands of years. It’s like a royal family. You don’t really get to vote anyone in or out. You just hope that the next generation straightens things out, which clearly, they haven’t.”
William was preoccupied, his eyes busy finding each person in the coffee house and evaluating their every move. I wondered if his paranoia was as obvious to Rachel as it was to me.
“You guys shouldn’t talk about this here.” His tight lips and hunkered brow added to his serious tone, but he was too handsome for it to have any affect.
“Hasn’t anyone tried to overthrow them?” I asked.
There was a long pause while Rachel offered William the opportunity to answer, but he looked away, and she gladly kept on.
“They’re Descendants of first generation Olympians,” said Rachel, enjoying the heat of the conversation. “It’s not possible.”
William threw her an ice cold look that said more than I understood. I took it as an overreaction, a symptom of his worry.
“First generation? Like Zeus?” I pushed on.
“Exactly. There are six of them.” She
Similar Books
