The sensation that overcame Yvonne was more than she expected, warning or no.  It was that same, peaceable calm... but more.  Nothing alien to her, just... an old friend nearly forgotten.  It was happy.<br/><br/>She looked up at Father Fischer - Raphael - as he opened his eyes, sharing with her a homey smile.  It fed into he emotion, but Officer Wojcik ws trained in control, and she easily focused her mind through the distraction - powerful as it was, she embraced it in the zealotry of fulfilling her duty.  "Mademoiselle Devereaux", he told her just as warmly, "was blessed by God more than two thousand years ago with a gift. Her gift is similar to mine. She helps people. She is what you might call in your vernacular, a<span style="font-style: italic">witch</span>. I prefer to refer to as a healer. For this reason, she is very important to you, to me and more importantly to God. Nothing ill must happen to Isolde Devereaux."<br/><br/>The effort it took to render her jaw motionless was immeasurable.  Still, the angel continued on with the information he had for her, including another witch named Darcy, the cousin of Isolde, a concubine of Satan and her unholy spawn, and a recruit of the witch in question.  The surprise that had taken her with the revelation of the healer lay like a clear film over her thought processes as the rest was unveiled, not at all preventing vision of the subject but still something there isolating direct contact; it was ineffectual at best.<br/><br/>A less urgent horn filled the air from outside.  She knew it was the Italian officer returned for her but continued to pay him no mind until she got the answers she needed.  Instead, she found herself with less.  Looking down at her entwined hands, Yvonne took a breath and centered herself, then stated, "I don't understand."<br/><br/>"You ask why Isolde Devereaux is important." Father Fischer took a bite of the egg on his plate and swallowed it down, he was so at ease with the world.  His faith was astounding.  It was assuring on the grand-scale as well as the macro that he did not acknowledge her admission. "She is the key. A month ago she also was at that Hotel I mentioned earlier. Frau Krohs took her prisoner. I assumed the identity of an SS-Hauptsturmfuhrer, head of her personal security detail (PSD). This was a strong young soldier originally assigned to the SA, Adolf Hitler's personal body  guard. I had hoped to learn as much as I could about Frau Krohs, but I was stopped unwittingly by the immortal assassin. After that blunder, I lost contact with Frau Krohs. We are trying to re-establish contact with her. My brother, is about to pay a visit to the assassin and the witch."<br/><br/>She nodded slowly, the waitress returning with a bright smile and the bill.  It was annotated with discounts and a comment about the Lord's mysterious ways blessing all in His flock.  There was little arguing with the woman while the angels spell hung in the room, for either party, so she asked for a takeaway, applying what would have been the original cost toward her round and the Father did much the same before she could protest.  He finished his meal as Yvonne orchestrated a question or a comment or something, but the only things she could think of were doubting or selfish.  If Isolde Devereaux was important to His plans, they were important to hers.  As for her father... she knew her true father and needed no other, good man or angel he may be, so she let it be.<br/><br/>"Thank you, Father.  I will leave you to your meal," she told him as the waitress left the traveling container for her food without a word.  "I'm sure I know where to find you should need arise, but obligations compel my departure.  I will have more questions."  He nodded sagely.  She returned it and prayed God be with him, turning and exiting in a strictly controlled motion not to be misinterpreted as a rush.<br/><br/>The vehicle was blowing heat in a wave off its backside while the drive tapped a hand on the wheel impatiently.  Yvonne entered the passenger side quickly, the door slamming mildly behind her as she slipped on a patch of ice, hitting the seat hard but with more composure than most could finesse of such an episode.  She looked over at the man next to her, eliciting a glare at him.  He had both hands out as if to catch her, eyes wide with instantaneous worry and surprise, completely unwarranted.<br/><br/>"I suspect you found your way?"  She asked, turning away.  There was simply too much to take in to add this disturbance on, and she had some seriousness to make-up for what with all the happiness in that particular cafe at the moment.  Clearing his throat, the officer turned forward again, propelling the automobile through the streets at the prompt of a foot.  This appeared to be answer enough for him.  Her eyes returned to him, assessing but availing no acceptable information, she asked again, "Did you find your way to the garrison?"<br/><br/>His chest rolled out as he took a deep breath in.  He let it subside fully, a long sigh forced from his nose before taking another breath to answer her with.  "Yes, and I made my report.  I took care of some other things while I was there."<br/><br/>Yvonne sucked in her lips.  "What things?"<br/><br/>"Things," said he.<br/><br/>"And I suspect these things have to do with your re countenance of the last 24 hours?"<br/><br/>Fabiano stared straight ahead, refusing the answer her.<br/><br/>After what she had just learned of the Oberstleuntenant, it didn't seem like this was any better an idea than it had been before her conversation with the father, when she had given him strict orders on how to proceed.  Yet, he did not follow those orders, and he wouldn't even defend himself on such a decision, which she could interpret to mean he either had a weak reasoning he assumed she would not approve of and that it was better to keep to himself versus illuminate the person he disobeyed, or that he had none at all.  If there was anything more mysterious than the Lord's construction of a man, she feared for it.<br/><br/>She looked forward as the city limits stretched away behind them.  Taking a deep breath, one less theatrical and uncertain compared to his own, she exhaled just as sharply.  "I must make my report.  I would prefer it matched yours so there is no inquiry that could take-up our time on<span style="font-style: italic">things</span>or damage our names.  It is important to me to remember my purpose and those I share it with when making any decisions that could affect them."  She did not need to look to see the guilt in the man.<br/><br/>When they arrived at the office of her personal commanding officer, Polish Battalion Leader Wojcik marched in straight as an arrow aimed for the heart of the secretary.  It was a man far younger than required of such a position, his pores not even muddied with the color of whiskers, though his blond head and pale complexion could be more at fault than his age, she did not expect this was the case so much as the former.  His demeanor is retracting back from her was enough to evidence that.<br/><br/>"Please alert mein Oberst Schuster that the transfer allegi-"<br/><br/>"I know who you are, Wojcik," a deep voice cut her off.  It was gravelly and whispery at once, but nonetheless authoritative, simply smoke-damaged.  With an about-face, she was looking at a heavy set man with structure to spare beneath, a face broad with accomplishment and scars, and a mustache to rival a models.  His hair was combed all to one side with the glisten of formality and trend, matching his boots as well as hers.  It was a statement on complete control before anything else, and it commanded the respect of everyone, including a lackadaisical Fabiano whose back straightened immediately, but especially of herself.  "Come on back, you know how this goes."<br/><br/>She did.  Submitting her head, she followed him back into his office without hesitation.  The same could not be said of the Italian.  As they made it through the door, the man in question sat in his chair of little luxury and stared at the young man who tried to shut it.<br/><br/>"Who is he?"  The brows knitting together looked more agitated than his tone alluded.<br/><br/>The blonde woman, brushing off her freshly changed uniform of the more standard neutrals dismissed the officer with little regard.  "This is the Italian who interviewed Frau Devereaux."<br/><br/>He grunted at the lighter-haired brunetter who stood by the door like a lost puppy, waiting for the order to shut it or leave.  Yvonne felt no pity for him there, though there was a vague tickle of amusement, and gave him no relief with such - it wasn't her office to make such commands as it was.<br/><br/>"I suspect you wish to make your reports at once, then?"  Oberst Schuster was eying her severely.<br/><br/>She shook her head.  "Nein, colonel.  He may make his report and leave.  I will amend it after that."<br/><br/>Commander Wojcik kept her gaze on the Oberst who seemed to understand the underlying meaning of the situation now, keeping it off of the lowest-ranking officer whose jaw audibly fell open.<br/><br/>"What?"<br/><br/>"Well, then, Officer?"  Oberst Schuster prodded.  He sat back in his chair languidly with a slight bounse, arms settled behind his head with comfort.  What could be mistaken as unprofessionalism was clear intimidation and utter lack of care for its targets - it reversed most leadership relations techniques, which made it all the more effective.  Disarm all those too small to worry about and frighten or befriend them with unfamiliar familiarity, and those who climbed to the ranks above would find themselves disarmed once more with the brutality of subordination, suffering a sudden whiplash from the emotional 180* and then strained with the constant pressure of insufficiency.  It was working a number over on the poor Italian man at the door.<br/><br/>Shutting it gently, Fabiano made his way to the middle of the room, standing next to Yvonne.  Wrong move, but he wouldn't remain long anyway.  He cleared his throat harshly, announced his name and rank, then took a small step forward and announced the task Yvonne had made him aware he'd been asked to do.  When he finished, as brief as the orders Commander Wojcik had given him earlier - bringing up the question once more why they had been so hard to follow the first time - the colonel eyed her again.<br/><br/>"Officer Fabiano," she said, unmoving, "Please give the kapitan the full story as you know it from your own memory."<br/><br/>He nodded once and gave his full attention back to Schuster, who looked irritated but listened.  Fabiano began with waking up in the alley, the colonels expression unchanging, though the subtle movement in rocking his chair ceased.  The Italian included his last notable orders and those that he'd discerned had no founding in his memory up to the point that he woke again in the church with officer Wojcik, then having come back to the kaserne.  At this point the dark-haired man with the formidable mustache raised a brow, marginally.<br/><br/>"Is that all?"  he asked.  A nod was his only answer.  "I assume this is not the same report you gave your commanding officer?"  No motion was his answer this time.  "Then you are dismissed."<br/><br/>The tanned man made his exit, his brown eyes making unreadable contact with her flat green ones as he did.  The door shut wholly behind him and with a click they knew it would not open.  All the same, Yvonne stepped over and gave it two more clicks to assure it was locked and no one would be interrupting them, just as she had through the many reports she'd had to give her captain.<br/><br/>"Officer Fabiano, huh?  Sly devil, that one.  How did he get mixed up in this?"  He asked, a joke in his voice that carried more weight than the serious tone of a dying widow.  He leaned forward in his chair again, his shoulders framed outward toward the room, shadowing his face uncomfortably.  His psychosomatic techniques had no baring on Yvonne, but he did them anyway - habit or practice she was not sure, but he knew she was not intimidated by him, which was why he had ceased his yelling the first day she'd reported to him.  They may not have been equals, but she had his respect, and she thanked God for it every day.<br/><br/>The commander came back to the chairs, nodding at one before taking it with her ranking officers permission.  She sat, straight-backed and feet planted, no more at ease than when she was standing, and she looked Oberst Schuster dead in the eyes.  "One Oberstleutenant Erlind Kohler."<br/><br/>He froze, as much a tell as lifted brows or gaping mouth in another.  "I know the name," he admitted.  He said nothing further, her cue to do exactly that.<br/><br/>"And one Advocate Kristoff Avel Jaegger."  He nodded once, indicating she continue.  "Both were at the interview with Mademoiselle Isolde Devereaux.  She doesn't know anything about the rebellion forming under her own nose, but I'm not sure that she doesn't choose not to see it."<br/><br/>He shook his head, "Helping the filth of this unfortunate country is not a crime, yet."<br/><br/>The woman inhaled noisily. "I know," was her response.  "Either it should be, or helping the filth condemn themselves should be punishable by some form.  She was at church this morning, but she was not a true believer, of that much I am sure."  Exhaling what was left, she continued.  "I will investigate the issue further as one of my soldiers sent with goods has disappeared and I do not believe her intent.  I will check-in with the birdie tomorrow and report to you on that situation at that time.  What I report to you now is the Oberstluetenant.<br/><br/>"He has a history with the nurse that calls his motives into question.  An internal inquiry must be made as to his sincerity to the cause, and I have recently become aware that Gestapo Udo Drechsler should be available within these few hours to take care of this for us should he be called up from the Charles Hotel.  As herr Fabiano detailed, herr Kohler has assaulted an officer granted our immunities as transfer from our allies in Italy.  Such action could spark a war.  This, alone, requires his immediate-" she cleared her throat, getting back on track before her mouth ran away with her into insubordination.  "But this is the least of our worries."<br/><br/>The colonels brows raised.  "War is the least of our worries?"  This being his only reaction gave away much other information to the younger female.  He was unaffected by Drechsler's presence, meaning he was called to Munich - solidifying his words with her this morning - and gave purpose to his business beyond Commander Wojcik's jurisdiction.  His lack of worry over the conception of war was not unsurprising, but with Italy?  The man was good at covering his emotions, but Yvonne was better at reading them.  She felt the air about him and found a steady thrum rebounding quickly; he was barely contained.<br/><br/>"He and the advocate are demons, of the biblical sense."<br/><br/>Silence filled the air.<br/><br/>"Demons.  As in, in league with Satan."<br/><br/>It wasn't a question but she answered anyway.  "Yes, colonel, sir.  In league with Satan is still not in league with the cause of the Fatherland or the Fuhrer, and less in league with that of the Lord God.  It is still treason.  Considering Officer Fabiano's experience and what repercussions this may have had, his intentions with Ms. Devereaux, and whatever Officer Drechsler, or whatever affair officer is appointed - may dig-up, I find it reasonable to detain Officer Kohler and alert the Fuhrer."  This was when Wojcik pulled her invisible rank.  She was directly tasked by the Fuhrer, but there were formalities that maintained officers between them, like Oberst Schuster, and out of respect, she hated giving him orders.  "You may simply pass on the message that he and at least one demon ally of his are here in Munich with the rest of this information."<br/><br/>They both understood she softened it as much as she could, but the formal boundaries of this context were insurmountable in the space between them.  Oberst Schuster had been selected for this position for many reasons beyond his leadership and intimidation skills.  He was a man of honor and duty who could handle the tasks, mundane and great alike, that would passed to and through him, like messages between agents and the Fuhrer.  Most importantly, he could do it with an open-mind.  If he was told to give Hitler the notes that one of his officers, one she'd heard was dating his niece, was a demon, that was what he would do.<br/><br/>He nodded at her, waving a hand.  "I will get order from above.  You are not expected to act on these matters without further notice except as protocol dictates.  In the meantime, busy yourself with this Devereaux minx, her clinic, and your missing officer - I'm assuming you didn't come directly here as you were gathering intel?"  She nodded.  "Anonymous birdie?"  She responded the same.  He grunted at her in return and she knew he wondered what sort of magical creature gave her the tipoff, but he wouldn't be too far off, and most people didn't want to know that either.  "Anything else they told you or you might have picked-up?"<br/><br/>Wojcik thought for a moment.  "There may be an assassin in the city."<br/><br/>"What else is new?" he commented, turning in his chair and standing for paperwork in the file cabinets behind him, waving a hand in dismissal.<br/><br/>Muttering, "He might not be here for the Fuhrer," she made her way back to her rooms.<br/><br/>They were small at her request.  She took two steps to the desk and set down her smaller items, rigging and accessories included; she didn't like being weighed down, but in her line of work it could be necessary.  However, not during prayer, it was a distraction and front to her faith in God's plan for her.  Walking along the bed meant for one or less, she came to the nightstand and removed her mother's worn bible, covered in a lace doily that had been sewn onto the leather binding, fabric hanging out of all other edges, a torn piece of shift she'd taken before leaving the convent.<br/><br/>She hadn't told the colonel about Isolde or Darcy, that they were witches.  Demons were enough for one report, and something told her that the Fuhrer knew - it hadn't made sense that she needed to watch over one healer who wasn't even involved in the supply distribution of the rebellious clinic.  However, now she knew God really had a plan for the woman which required her protection - and naming her a witch to unaware in the cause did not exactly seem like the best way to go about it.  Still, she wondered why she accepted it so easily.  Raphael was the answer, he was an angel, but it put so many things out of place for her, skewing her mission and the cause just slightly in the equilibrium of her morality, but didn't seem exactly right, though certain other things fell into alignment with the development.<br/><br/>Opening the marked page, she had just found her place when a knock sounded on the door.  She ignored it in favor of Matthew 10:5-8, which read, '<span style="font-style: italic">These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel. As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy,[a] drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give"</span>' before an envelope was slipped below the door.<br/><br/>Still, she ignored it, and made it through to Matthew 10:24 and 25, that<span style="font-style: italic">“The student is not above the teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for students to be like their teachers, and servants like their masters. If the head of the house has been called Beelzebul, how much more the members of his household!</span>, but then she found herself picking up the note, whispering 26 aloud.<br/><br/>"So do not be afraid of them," she said, lifting the tab on the white sheet, "for there is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known."