The morning dawned but a shroud of fog hovering over the land,obscuring the weak winter sun. Isolde was not on schedule for the clinic but felt she must offer to help considering the shortage of hands.Time flew during the day as she examined children's sore throats and old women's goiters. One young man came in with an ax wound and Isolde fell to bandaging him with fervor. Her mind drifted to the night before as she worked with the bleeding wound of Erlind.<br/><br/>The blood had seeped from him in a bubbling stream, steaming as it mingled with the colder air in the warehouse. Isolde knew that demons as did vampires, could regenerate and remarked on this to the blond man, Erlind. He had made no comment but stoically gazed off into space, avoiding her eye. Isolde compared the wound under her hand to the wound of the demon man and discovered the blood's color was different, blacker, darker than the rich crimson that spilled from the ax wounded  man.<br/><br/>"Isolde, would you work tonight for me?" a young nurse approached her as she tied off the bandage. "I have been here all day and Docktor needs hands for tonight since Rachel has gone."<br/><br/>Isolde shook her head as she washed her hands in the ewer of cold water, scrubbing with lye soap.<br/>"You know I would normally, but I have an important appointment that I must not miss." she answered, feeling the mocking accusation of selfishness ring in her head. "I'm sorry Gretchen but the answer for tonight is no. Perhaps another time?"<br/><br/>The younger woman nodded her head in acceptance, patting Isolde on the arm as she passed. Isolde glanced at the clock. 4pm. She had just enough time to change from the gray uniform to more business worthy garment, if she hurried. Casting her blood stained apron into the laundry pile, she hurried from the clinic before the Docktor himself insisted she stay.<br/><br/>At her tiny flat, she stripped out of the uniform, raced through a cold toilette, tidied her unruly hair and slipped into a peacock blue Classy Tailored Black Crepe Dress With Detailed Front Pockets. Two big buttons closed the front placket and the cute rolled collar exposed just enough neckline to catch the eye without showing chest or cleavage. In concession to the times, the dress had a military severeness to it to maximize the use of fabric and not be wasteful. As vain as Isolde was with her appearance, she could not bring herself to allow her legs to freeze. While other women would apply leg paint and draw a nice seam up the back of the leg, she opted today for black fishnet hose with that fine black seam done in thread. Better some stocking than no stocking.  She polished her leather Mary Jane pumps and they set off the outfit nicely.<br/><br/>At the door, Isolde shrugged into her coat, wishing it were finer and settled a knitted tam at a jaunty angle on her head. Taking her gloves and scarf, she was ready to face the weather as well as the task at hand. She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes of 5. Just enough time to arrive at the garden as instructed. Isolde spoke a spell for strength and headed out the door to meet Erlind. Time to sell her soul to the devil.