The Coffee Goddess

THE COFFEE GODDESS

A Short Tale from the POZ

The third of my coffee shop tales, set once again in the Zone. This story came about when I realised that I had made Dianne and the Coffee Coffin a side-note in a number of my POZ tales. As if the humble coffee shop and its proprietor were some kind of nexus point around which all the other stories revolved.

Anyway, here is the result of those musings.

South Bank, Spitfield

There was nothing about the shop that looked dangerous. In fact it felt positively inviting, which was in itself highly unusual in the city everyone called ’The Spit”.

Most stores in the neighbourhood had metal grilles protecting their windows, thick metal plates covering the doors when the place was closed. Some even had signs warning potential thieves that the store deployed armed remotes to deal with any trouble.

By contrast, this was a tiny place, barely wide enough to accommodate the entrance door and front service counter. Somehow small and yet perversely welcoming amongst all the bigger, well defended premises. A hand painted sign stood on the pavement to one side, announcing the cafe’s name: The Coffee Coffin.

Mrs Green watched from the other side of the busy street, observing with shrewd eyes the colour of Spring as patrons came and went from the narrow establishment. The ones who arrived bore expressions of eager devotion, the ones that left with their cups held tightly had the look of worshippers who had tasted a glimpse of heaven.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” her husband asked. Mrs Green flicked her eyes to where he waited in the shadows, a tall figure clad entirely in black. His eyes were like pits into the cold depths of the earth, yet to her they seemed soft and warm.

Few others ever got to see this side of him, the loving and devoted partner. Most only saw him when their own time had ended, standing bereft and alone as the world continued on without them. To mortals he was a figure of loss and despair, the symbolic end to all they had ever hoped and dreamed of.

To Mrs Green, he was the most wonderful gift that the Now could ever bestow upon her. Well, him and their two wonderful children of course.

“It’s something I need to do, Thanny” she replied earnestly. “Surely you can feel there is something strange going on here?”

Mister Black, known by some as Thanatos, let his eyes linger on the small coffee shop across the road.

“Maybe they just make really good coffee?” he suggested in a bemused tone.

Mrs Green gave out a sound that could be described as a ‘harrumph’. A sound often written about yet when heard in the real world seemed remarkably unusual. Even Mrs Green found herself forced into smiling at her own exclamation.

“I’ll just pop in and give the place a quick once-over” she suggested lightly to her husband.

“You sound like a burglar checking out their next target, Gaia” he responded in a more serious manner. “If you get into trouble, I may not be able to help you” he added warningly. “The Covenant will limit your actions too, dearest”

“Don’t be silly, Thanny” she chided him. “It’s just a coffee shop”

She left him in the shadows, striding confidently across the narrow street. An electric Auto-cab beeped angrily at her, swerving around her as it hummed past, making her pause and take more careful note of the road traffic.

Behind her came the distinct sound of a sigh as Thanatos slipped sideways from the mortal world, probably gone to handle another of the many cases that needed his personal attention. Mrs Green squared her shoulders and crossed the last few meters to the pavement, acutely aware she was about to enter the dragon’s den all on her own.

With a subtle gesture, she sent out a pulse of mental energy the length of the street. Without knowing exactly why, the dozen or so patrons heading eagerly to the coffee shop stopped in their tracks and wandered off in some random direction.

It was only a small thing, barely enough to count as magic at all, Mrs Green reasoned to herself. Nothing that the Angels would consider a breach of the Covenant.

“Good morning!” a cheery voice called out in greeting. Mrs Green took a moment, as if letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer interior, while she examined the young woman behind the counter.

She was of moderate height, slender without being thin, her long auburn hair tied back into a thick ponytail that hung carelessly over one shoulder. Her face was pretty enough, the kind of looks that people called ‘girl next door’ as if being a neighbour somehow defined your attractiveness.

What caught the attention though were the eyes. A startlingly vibrant green, as fresh as a grassy meadow, full of life and awash with an energy that almost sparkled. It was like looking into a mirror, seeing a version of herself from the distant past.

“Umm, hello” Mrs Green finally responded once she found herself able to speak. “Is this your coffee shop?”

“Certainly is!” the woman answered cheerfully. “It’s all mine, except for the bits the bank owns” she added with a grin. “How can I serve you today?”

“Just a coffee, please. Make me your best, whatever style you think I might like”

“Sure! How does a latte sound?”

“That would be fine” Mrs Green replied, unable to stop herself smiling back. The woman’s happy nature was infectious, like she was some kind of viral joy spreader. She paid using her phone, noting the price was half of what would be charged in nearby Pan City.

Half of what Mrs Green charged for her coffee back in that same city. She’d thought her own prices were quite reasonable, yet she guessed the costs of doing business were much less here in Spitfield.

She moved to the rear of the narrow coffee shop while she waited for her coffee to be made. There were a series of small booths arrayed down one side, with the long counter on the other. It wasn’t a tight squeeze as such, but she wondered how the place managed to feel so welcoming despite being little bigger than a corridor.

No wonder the place was called the Coffee Coffin!

Mrs Green sat with her back to the rear wall, next to a door which presumably led to a service alley. From here she could observe the entire cafe and more importantly the young barista as she crafted the coffee.

She was economical in her movements, grinding fresh beans, filtering the steaming water, frothing the milk with deft hands. If she wasn’t the subject of Mrs Green’s suspicions she’d have asked the young woman to come and work in her own shop.

“Here you go, hun” the woman said as she delivered the coffee. She laid a tall ceramic mug on the table, set atop a matching saucer with a metal spoon and a sachet of sugar. A chunky cookie, laced with chocolate chips, was nestled against the cup too.

The aroma that wafted up into Mrs Green’s nostrils was far better than she had expected. So good in fact she instinctively opened her inner sight to scan the table, the coffee shop and more importantly the woman for any trace of latent sorcery.

Nothing. Not a hint of magic anywhere.

“Is everything okay?” the woman asked her, eyes searching Mrs Green’s face with a worried expression.

To hide her reaction, Mrs Green hurriedly took a sip of the coffee. It was as divine as the aroma had suggested. Coffee always smells great, yet sometimes the flavour in the mouth is not as perfect. It can reveal a bitterness, or perhaps too much milk, or even being too weak in its consistency.

In actuality, this coffee tasted even better than the aroma.

“It’s perfect” Mrs Green muttered and then looked the barista squarely in the face. “I can see why everyone has been raving about this place”

“Oh, you mean all the online buzz” the woman laughed, a genuine sound and unforced. “Yeah, I had a food critic from Pan City pass by last week, desperate for a Long Black. They filmed themselves here in the Spit like it was going to show everybody how dire the hospitality is and instead they ended up loving my coffee. It went kind of viral and now I have people from all over coming here to try it for themselves”

“So you must be Dianne Sommersby” Mrs Green asked, keeping her tone light.

“Err, yeah, that’s me. But most people just call me Di” Dianne replied. “You can call me Di if you like”

“Thank you, Di. I’m Mrs Green, but you can call me Gaia”

“Oh, Gaia as in the Earth Mother!” Dianne said brightly.

“Yes, that is right” Mrs Green smiled at her. She was about to ask more questions when a pair of customers walked up to the front counter. Obviously her minor spell had worn off and people once again found themselves looking for coffee.

Dianne made her apologies and dashed to the counter, ready to take their order. Mrs Green watched the new arrivals as they greeted Di by name, chatting amiably with her as they requested coffees and some toasted sandwiches.

They were a mismatched pair, with one a young looking woman with spiky blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was relatively short, dressed in loose black shorts and t-shirt, her torso incongruously wrapped in an armour vest.

Her partner was tall and solid, muscular and broad shouldered and yet remarkably feminine looking. She was dressed in solid black, with an armour vest that matched the other woman’s one along with a heavy utility belt circling her waist. A holstered pistol was strapped to her right hip and she had a distinctly martial air.

Mrs Green guessed they were either somebody’s security detachment or bounty hunters. Unless Spitfield was more dangerous than she realised and this was how the locals dressed when ordering brunch.

“Are you guys working a bounty right now?” Dianne asked the pair, which at least confirmed Mrs Green’s thoughts.

“Twenty and I are heading to the Hole” the smaller blonde declared. “Meeting up with another crew to take down some escapees”

“Well, be careful, Millie” Dianne said. “The Hole is a dangerous place”

The one called Millie laughed and assured Dianne they would be fine.

“With Twenty at my side, there isn’t anybody more dangerous than us!”

In no time at all they had collected their coffees and food and departed, promising to call Dianne later. Mrs Green sat back, slowly sipping her coffee and pondering.

The morning passed by, with people of all types coming and going. They were quite the mixed bag, many of them apparently coming for the first time to sample the ‘famous coffee’ that the cafe served.

A number of the customers seemed to be people that knew Dianne personally, greeting her and being greeted by name in reply. Mrs Green watched them all, her eyes widening as she examined the variety of souls that came and went from this humble cafe.

It was when the tall, Nordic woman in the long armoured coat strode in through the door that Mrs Green began to understand a little of what was going on.

“Venerae!” Dianne called out in greeting, a tone of relief in her voice that made Mrs Green eye her with renewed suspicion. “Umm, do you want the usual?”

“Yes please, Di” Sister Venerae of the Order of Michael answered solemnly. “I’ll take it in my regular booth”

Mrs Green felt a sudden chill pass down her spine as the one-time Sword of Michael stalked the short distance to her table, looking down with a cold glare at the occupant.

“May I take this seat?” the woman asked her and Mrs Green could only give a curt nod of agreement, too stunned to speak. The new arrival sat, flaring out her heavy coat as she did so, exposing the short-bladed sword that hung from a special baldric beneath.

“Hello, Venerae” Mrs Green ventured in a neutral tone. She couldn’t stop her eyes from straying to the hilt of the sword that jutted out from the concealment of the coat. A sword she knew of but had never expected to encounter in such close proximity.

A sword known as Threadcutter, the Ender of Fates. If Venerae had brought such a powerful weapon with her, she had been expecting trouble.

“What are you doing, Mrs Green?” Venerae stated in a voice flatter than the table top.

“Ah, just drinking my coffee”

Venerae lifted her eyes to meet Mrs Green’s, their pale blue depths reminding her of ice floes drifting across a vast frozen sea.

“You’ve been drinking the same coffee for the past three hours” Venerae countered. “And watching everyone that comes here like a hawk. What are you really up to?”

“Is that any way to talk to your mother?” Mrs Green said sweetly, probing the one-time Sword’s mood.

“You’re not my mother, Gaia”

“I’m everybody’s mother, Venerae. It says so in the title!”

Venerae’s eyes crinkled and she let out a brief snort of laughter. She shook her head and when she lifted her face again to Mrs Green she was smiling.

“Okay, you got me there” she conceded. “But seriously, I got a call from a very concerned young lady about this old woman sitting in her cafe, watching her every move like a vulture. She thought she was being stalked by some crazy old serial killer or something”

“Ah, I probably shouldn’t have stayed so long” Mrs Green admitted ruefully. “But tell me you don’t feel there is something strange about that girl? About this whole Coffee Coffin?”

“About Dianne?” Venerae queried in mild surprise. She waited until the young woman had delivered her coffee, gave thanks, and let her head back to the counter before continuing.

“She’s an ordinary mortal, Mrs Green. Not one of the Adept nor one of the Awakened. Di doesn’t even have any Enhancements, not even a basic processor installed. She is a standard model human being, albeit a very cute and happy one”

Mrs Green frowned and nodded at the coffee that Venerae had lifted to her lips. There was no denying the look of satisfaction on Venerae’s face as she savoured the first caffeine laced mouthful.

“Then how do you explain that?” Mrs Green demanded. “I’m the goddess of all Nature and even I can’t get my coffee to taste that good!”

Venerae grinned at Mrs Green and set her cup down on the saucer, turning to point at a small statue on a shelf above the head of Dianne Sommersby.

“Do you know who that is?” the Sword asked her in neutral tones. Mrs Green squinted at the religious icon, puzzled until with a sudden realisation it came to her.

“Saint Drogo?”

“Saint Drogo” Venerae confirmed. “The Patron Saint of Coffee, amongst other things. Lots of coffee shops have a statue or something in his honour. They say it makes the coffee taste better”

“I visited him once” Mrs Green mused thoughtfully. “A strange, quiet man. Devoted to his prayers, kind and generous to those he encountered. He became quite the recluse in his later years, though I am surprised he is known as the Coffee Saint. It didn’t arrive in Europe until centuries after he passed on”

“Yes, it is a weird association I will grant you” Venerae conceded. “But the point I was trying to make is that even after he tried to keep himself aloof from the world, the people were still drawn to him. Captivated by his humble existence they loved him no matter how much he tried to stand apart”

“She’s a pleasant enough girl, Venerae, but there are plenty of people like her all across the mortal world. That doesn’t answer what is going on here”

Venerae gave a small sigh, one that reminded Mrs Green an awful lot of the exasperated sighs of her husband. Like she had missed something obvious. She opened her inner senses again, casting her essence outwards to try and see what she was missing.

The world around her pulsed with vital energies, lines of hidden power that writhed and tangled and merged all across the Earth. Powerful Ley lines that carried the inherent magic of the natural and supernatural from deep in the Earth’s heart and unto every corner of the vast planet.

Those skeins of the arcane forces that bound the world together would merge and reinforce at certain points, forming a natural convergence that amplified their power. Mrs Green’s eyes widened in shock as she comprehended at last what Venerae had been trying to tell her.

“This is a Nexus!” she gasped.

“That’s right. The Coffee Coffin is built on top of the most powerful convergence point in the entire Zone” Venerae said with a faint smile. “You are part of that energy, that life force, Mrs Green, so it wasn’t apparent to you. You live and breathe it like we mere mortals take in the air around us. To us humans the air that sustains us is invisible and ever-present so we don’t even notice it”

Mrs Green looked towards Dianne behind the counter, busy making brews for more eager customers. They were regarding the young woman with expressions that verged on veneration.

“The chapel that Drogo spent his last years in, that too was a Nexus point” Mrs Green mused. “Lots of churches were built on places like that, their builders drawn to those convergences even if they didn’t comprehend why”

“Dianne Sommersby makes good coffee, Mrs Green” Venerae said. “But it is the Nexus that draws people to this place, that makes her coffee better than yours. Saint Drogo is not the reason but it makes for a convenient excuse”

Mrs Green felt relieved to understand at last why this coffee shop and its proprietor had been niggling at her so much. She thanked Venerae and stood up, gathering her bag and making her way to the front of the narrow cafe.

“Keep up the good work, Di!” she called out cheerfully and headed out onto the street. She walked a few paces, getting out of the eyeline of the mortals who might be looking and then slipped sideways into her own realm.

“How did it go?” asked her husband. She was in her own little kitchen, tucked away at the back of a small yet comfortable cottage. Wide glass filled windows looked out over a lush garden, overflowing with flowers of all colours that basked in vibrant sunshine, the light bathing the room in a gentle glow.

Thanatos was making tea, pouring steaming water into two old mugs that had seen centuries of use. The aroma was enticing, herbal and earthy, just the thing she needed to revitalise her senses.

“Well enough, Thanny” she answered. “It turns out the cafe was just an ordinary little place. It happens to sit in a very good location, that’s all”

Mrs Green took a seat at the wooden table, accepting the warm mug with a murmur of thanks, letting go of all the worries she had about Dianne Sommersby and the Coffee Coffin.

=====

Venerae moved around and took the seat that Mrs Green had vacated, feeling happier with her back against the solid rear wall of the cafe. From here she watched Di fuss about serving her customers as she sipped the last of her own coffee.

Her eyes drifted up the statue of Saint Drogo and she raised her cup in salute. His association with coffee was a relatively modern thing but what he had really been known for was the care he took watching over his flock. The real Drogo had been a shepherd for a time and it was this aspect that Venerae felt was the Saint’s true gift.

To care and give comfort to those who crowd around them, even if like the shepherd they must remain aloof from the flock. They watch over them, giving all they have to the ones they care about, taking nothing for themselves.

Mrs Green was too close to the source of the world’s power to see it. Just like the air that Venerae breathed in. The Earth Mother was unable to see the tendrils of energy that wove up from the Ley lines, wrapping themselves invisibly around the young woman at the counter, weaving her own kind of magic with a coffee machine and ground beans.

Venerae drained the last drops from her cup and stood, leaving the cup and saucer on the counter as she strode past.

“Thanks, Coffee Goddess” Venerae called out as she passed Di.

“Don’t you start!” Di replied with a grin. “I get enough of that already”

Venerae gave her a wave and stepped onto the pavement, letting a pair of new arrivals bustle past, eager to get their hands on ‘the best coffee in the Spit’.

The lines of power wove away from her as Venerae walked with long-legged strides, radiating outwards in a vast web of energy. As she went, Venerae pondered Saint Drogo.

Like so many others who were acknowledged as Saints, they were simple human beings with no real power or abilities. Yet at some point they became the source of miracles, conduits into the mortal world for power that needed a pathway from wherever it came from.

Old gods gave way to new gods, that had ever been the way of the world. As the worship of an ancient deity faded, the power that came from faith, from belief, was transferred to some newer incarnation.

Without realising it, the Earth Mother that she knew as Mrs Green had sensed the beginning of something new. Not a god, not even a saint, but something that could unwittingly tap into the source of whatever it was that created such beings.

Venerae allowed herself a small, private chuckle at the thought of being there when the world gained a new goddess.

The Coffee Goddess.

The End.

Thanks for taking the time to read another of my short stories about the Zone. If you haven’t read any of the many tales I have already told about this alternate world, try ’Millie the Gunsinger’ or ’ABC - The Confession’ to get a glimpse into what the Zone is like.