"Nah. We just call 'em mortals." Penthea paused, scrunching her eyebrows a bit. "Which, actually, doesn't make much sense, does it? Because we're mortal, too. I mean, we'll die eventually." Unless white lighter children were immortal like white lighters. But Pen tried not to think about that because there was no proof either way.
"You'll have to teach me to ride a broom some day. If my mom ever lets me come back to London anyway." Penthea followed along, actually taking in the sights as they walked. She wasn't usually this observant, but her little spark of power earlier had put her on edge a little bit. "The demon thing is just really normal to us. As far back as we have records for there have been demons attacking our family. Our Book of Shadows is so heavy I can barely lift it anymore."