The foreboding notes of Beethoven’s fifth rang out across the large bedroom. Emma groaned in the darkness, reluctant to abandon her warm fortress of blankets. The bars rang out again: da-da-da-dum. Damnit, it was the office. A slender arm snaked from beneath the covers to seize the smartphone that lay on the side table. Bracing herself, she clicked it on, recoiling a little from the light the screen cast of. A text alert pulsed.

Goodmorning Professor. Your presence is required at the office at your earliest convenience. If you are unable to comply please call us.

‘Earliest convenience’ in PHI speak wasn’t emergency, but it was close enough to ‘now’ that Emma slid out of bed and started across her apartment. The air was frigid, years in California had made her nostalgic for the alpine air of her homeland so she had taken to leaving the windows open a crack and piling the blankets on when she slept.

Gathering a soft bathrobe around her naked body she pushed the windows closed and, with a jaw cracking yawn, pressed a wasteful plastic keurig container into her coffee machine. She had been out late the previous night with Brad, a sociology professor she had known briefly before he moved to Seattle. Just as Morgan had predicted, it had not gone well. She wouldn’t see him again. It  had however, meant that she hadn't gotten to bed until quite late. Or quite early. 

Humming a Christmas carol to herself she shuffled into the shower and ran the water as hot as she could stand for several minutes, enjoying the sensation. Emerging from the shower she dressed quickly in a charcoal business suit with a white button up shirt. She ran a brush through her blond hair but decided against pinning it up in her traditional bun. Finishing the ensemble she donned long, black, leather boots, the better to navigate snowy sidewalks. She tucked more practical business shoes into her handbag for when she reached the office. 

At last, and with some reluctance, she went back into her bedroom. Sliding open the drawer in her side table she took the compact, semiautomatic pistol and checked the safety, just as Jacob Mcallister had shown her. A concealed carry license had been among the papers she had been given when she arrived in Seattle, despite the fact she had never so much as handled a gun before. The range in the basement of PHI had given her at least a little familiarity. She stuffed the black pistol into her purse, collected her coffee and headed out the door.

The walk was a pleasant one, American Christmas was garish, loud and commercial but there was an underlying cheer to people that was quite invigorating. Only the Sky Needle spoiled the pleasant effect. It put her in mind of the darker German Farie tales. A skeletal finger busting from the earth reach for the living above and snatch them down into the earth. She pulled her scarf a little tighter.

Arriving at the building she left her fleece lined jacket in the oak paneled coat room and headed into the office proper. The old world sensibility of the place immediately put her at ease as always. The smell of leather and carefully oiled furniture mingled with the subtle scent of running computers in a seamless melange of the old and the new. Decorations hung in random profusion, according to each employees want. Her desk sat in a back corner of the office. A simple placard reading ‘Stern’ and a sleek Toshiba laptop were it's only adornments. She caught movement near the conference room and headed over.

[b]“Good morning Morgan,”[/b] she called as she saw the other woman. Morgan disturbed Emma. It was more than just her beauty, there was something unnatural to her. Sometimes when Morgan entered a room Emma would get a strange taste in her mouth, something vaguely reticent of burning electrical insulation but not that strong. She had considered asking some other Hexen about it, the few she knew, but that seemed and invasion of Morgan's privacy. Also she was fairly sure there was a non disclosure agreement somewhere in the mountain of papers she had signed.