New Blood (Or Is It Old?)

     The last book slid from the cardboard box, and the brunette kneeling on the carpeted floor sighed with relief. With a flick of her wrist, the heavy text bounded into place on the shelf, and she rose to her feet, groaning as her knees clicked. The small apartment was filled with cheap furniture, all chosen to harmonize with the other pieces, and a few valuable items which gave the room a hint of class. A sword, obviously of Celtic origin, hung on a plaque on the wall, highly polished and quite sharp, while a small sculpture of a medieval knight on horseback stood on a small side table, out of danger of any possible flying objects or careless elbows. Books predominated the room, as well as a massive record player with stacks of blues and jazz records. One played as the brunette unfolded the box to tuck it in a small closet with the rest, the mellow sounds of a saxophone making her smile.

     She was pretty, but with the kind of beauty that grows with age and experience. Thick, honey-brown hair hung just past her shoulders, with a strong wave, contrasted sharply by the three tiny strands of hair wrapped with brightly colored embroidery thread, turquoise, hot pink and bright purple. A heavy pendant of a dull bluish stone hung around her neck on a leather thong, covered by the turquoise mesh poncho she wore over her turquoise tank top. Straightening her denim skirt, the mortal woman walked barefoot into her kitchen and put the blue enamel kettle on to boil. Everything in the kitchen was old; all of it had considerable history. A heavy stone mortal and pestle stood on the counter, smelling faintly of crushed herbs, and a heavy iron skillet hung on the wall. All of the items were passed down from her mother, and had been passed down from her grandmother. One thing Claire Reynolds had was a long family history. Her light brown eyes skipped over the items put carefully in certain places, and paused in making her cup of tea to go adjust a mirror facing the door. Although she herself didn’t feel that her mother’s ideas of house arrangement were rational, she still didn’t feel comfortable in a house without at least four mirrors, a candle arrangement, a cauldron and the few dragon sculptures her grandmother had purchased. Claire wasn’t a witch, Wiccan, pagan, or even considered herself out of the mainstream in many ways. She just…had family history to deal with. A letter lay on the counter which she perused again as the tipped the proper herbal mixture into a heavy, stoneware mug. The contents were familiar to her after being read so many times, but she always reread, just in case she’d missed something.

     "…delighted to offer you…hope you will consider…Dr. Luther von Nordenheim requires…your resume was impeccable…salary beginning at…reply as soon as possible…" Claire smiled as she poured the hot water, stirring one-handed. Any graduate student would have been thrilled to work with a professor as well known as Dr. Nordenheim, but it was her application they’d chosen. Moving across the country from California to Virginia hadn’t been much of a hardship, considering the death of her mother and her subsequent inheritance. She sighed, thinking of her mother, then folded the letter neatly. With a swig, she drained the cup, wincing at the hot water searing her throat. The pain faded almost instantly, for Claire had always been able to withstand extreme temperatures, and she rinsed the mug absentmindedly, already looking into the living room, mentally placing a few last objects. The mortal walked into the living room and began moving things around, shifting a few items, then looked up when she felt an odd tingle. A bare second later, a knock came at the door. Frowning, Claire went to open the door, and ended up finding an entirely new world.