Juniper: The Last Descendant by Debora Lucken (Copywright reserved) Preface Do you believe in magic? In witches, healers, shape shifters. Spirits and Gods alike? I didn't. My mother's strong will of not wanting me to believe in anything not human became my will too. Yet, He told me to believe. He told me that one day I'd understand, accept and embrace what I was. He even claimed that one day I'd fight for every source of magic in the world. And that He'd fight with me. I didn't accept His words as true... but I really wanted to. Chapter 1 My bedroom was always very tidy; I had the habit of making the bed as soon as I was up and putting all my clothes in the laundry basket to have them washed in order to wash them myself once home and obviously, after doing my homework. My old style wooden desk, right in front of the little window on the left of my room, was perfectly cleaned; I wouldn't allow myself to leave a book out of the shelves. My mother believed that order and organization held the key for a peaceful life, which she wanted us to lead. She was a beautiful 40-year-old, my mother. Her eyes were as green as our Lake Erie, in Sandusky, where we live. I loved brushing her long curly brown hair and watching her putting some light make up on. Her skin was always so white, even after an entire day at the beach. But that was the only thing that would give away our blood relation. My skin was as white as snow, yet my eyes were insignificantly brown and my light brown hair wore shoulder-length and straight, was nothing in comparison of the volume of hers. My mother thought it looked cute that way, but I knew better. And even all the hair products in the world would have made it look like hers. I even tried to let it grow longer, but I was never patient enough. I wanted to be more like her, but I just couldn't. And her voice, oh gosh, her voice was like music to my ears, and every time she'd talk to me I'd remember all the lullabies she used to sing to make me fall asleep when I was a child. My mother and her younger sister, Eleanor, owned a little music shop on Grant Street, on the way to Sandusky High school, where I studied. She was always with me, never let me go too far from her sight. Some people might consider that overprotective. I defined it as loving. Her name was Pearl and she was my world. 'Mum, have you seen my history book?' it was rear for me to misplace something 'Joon, love, I told you to look after your things properly! I haven't seen it! And if you don't hurry up you'll be late for school!' her beautiful voice had a tone of irritation. She didn't like me losing objects anywhere and she hated when I was late. Although, for as hard as I was trying to remember the last time I'd been late to any appointments or to school, I couldn't recall any. I turned around to look at my desk again and, oddly enough, my history book was there. Sitting on the mouse pad. 'Very strange' I said out aloud so that my mother could hear me from the kitchen down the stairs 'It's on the desk, where I wouldn't have left it and where I looked before' I was still staring at the book in disbelief. At first she didn't reply, although I was sure she heard me, then finally said 'You must be more tired than you think! Get going... it's late!' her anger was gone completely, replaced with a very rare tone of preoccupation. But I was indeed late, so I brushed that thought off and rushed down the stairs to kiss her before going to school. When I arrived in the kitchen, expecting to find her at the table having breakfast like every morning, she was already dressed and ready to go out, which was very unusual. Her face oddly grave.