Isolde joined Erlind and the woman who were chatting. When Erlind turned to greet her, something in his eyes and tone made her body react. She felt blood rushing to her cheeks and she glanced away, shifting her attention to the young woman.<br/><br/>“Hello. Good to see you again. You created those lovely frocks worn by Frau Hauser and her daughters, didn’t you?” Isolde was so rattled by Erlind’s frank and charming appraisal that she gushed on. “I wager you are here to attend to the ladies at this event and for tomorrow night’s ball.” Isolde confided to Erlind. “This lady is the best in Munich when it comes to sewing. Very sought out, you know.”<br/><br/>The witch could not bear to make long eye contact with the man as she felt fires stir in her that had been dormant for two life times. Glancing up, she noticed the blond man in the long brown leather jacket. He was occupying a quiet corner, drinking the house brew. Although he was solitary, something of strength seemed to exude from him. Isolde’s arm tingled, a warm, loving sensation. She rubbed her gloved hand over her satin sleeve. Curious feeling, that, she thought, as if I have been touched by an angel. She had no time to linger in thought over the man in the corner because another one drew her attention this one not neutral or benign. She leaned closer to Erlind as he chatted with the young woman.<br/><br/>The man removed his hat to shake loose sleek black hair and then he waved their direction. Not to her, she was sure he was not familiar with her or her him, although he did remind her of someone. That man, was he only a man? Reminded her of, Loki, crazy, twisted, evil, and oddly worthy of sympathy. Loki, the Norse god she had known from another life time. Isolde put her hand to her head. She wondered if she had lived too many lifetimes.<br/><br/>From the front of the conference room came the squealing of microphones and the scraping of chairs. People began to stream in through the archways to the main auditorium.<br/><br/>“Erlind, perhaps it would be wise to find a seat before the room fills up.” Isolde said, quietly to him, tugging at his sleeve a little to channel his attention. “Please excuse us,” Isolde said sweetly to the girl as she proceeded to be seated.  What she really wanted to do was to put some distance between her and “Loki”.<br/><br/>Figuring that Erlind would join her if and when he was ready, Isolde continued on her way but stopped dead in the middle of the archway. Seated on the dais was a the one person in  the world that she hoped she never had to share air with again. Cold dread began to steal over her and she blinked a few times as if that would erase her presence.<br/><br/>Isolde was looking at her cousin, Darcy (who knew what last name she used these days?). Once the two of them had been inseparable and equal in power, using it for good but somewhere along the line Darcy had seen power as a pathway for wealth and prestige. The saying that absolute power corrupts absolutely could have been coined specifically for her.<br/><br/>Her once light blonde hair which had fallen to her waist like a satin stole was cut in a fashionable bob and lightened to platinum. She was seated on what would be Hitler’s right hand once he joined the panel. Her blue eyes were piercing the room with a calculated gaze as if she were counting the humans, the demons and other immortals in the room.  Her ice blue wool suit was form fitting and she wore silver stiletto heels, not the sensible wide heels seen on all the other women. She wore diamonds on her wrists, her neck, her ears and her fingers. Her fingernails which were long lethal daggers were painted crimson to match her lipstick. Her looks screamed, prosperous, powerful and provocative. There was nothing soft and alluring about Darcy. Isolde had thought of her as the Ice Queen for many years, but tonight drove that point home.<br/><br/>Isolde moved toward the left side of the room where there were a group of chairs close by the aisle that were not yet taken. Just as she settled in, Darcy saw her and raised her perfectly plucked eyebrow as she nodded acknowledgement. Isolde managed a tight smile and wished Erlind would come on. She fervently hoped he didn’t bring her here as a sacrifice. She huffed out a mirthless and silent laugh. She no longer would qualify as a virgin sacrifice. Goddess on Earth, what have I got myself into?