With Hamish’s admonition still ringing in her ears, Isolde was struggling to maintain her composure as she stepped into a flower shop.  The note that was burning a hole in the pocket of her white summer weight wool trousers added fuel to that restless fire. She walked along the street in Mittenwald in those ridiculous dainty Italian leather heeled boots with Chaya and she was seething with in so she had stopped to ‘smell the roses’ in an attempt to calm down. The telegram had to be someone’s idea of a practical joke or else the Universe was conspiring to test her resolve.<br/><br/>UNITY IS REQUIRED STOP MEET YVONNE WOJICK AT  ST P AND P STOP ARRANGE FOR A PARLAY STOP<br/><br/>Like a litany, she kept repeating Hamish’s words. “If you go into Mittenwald angry and willing to wipe out battalions of Nazi’s, Darcy wins. She will know you are alive, and she will know that you have a few new secrets up your sleeve. Information can come from anywhere and we must be ready to learn it whenever we can.”<br/>Isolde had changed, yes, but in her core she was loyal, faithful to those to whom she had committed. She was committed to Hamish. He had given her life and given her purpose. He gave her guidance and direction as well as everything , everything he owned or was. He held back nothing. Asked for nothing in return. Hamish had her back, something that few had ever done in any of her lives. She would not fail him.<br/><br/>The doubting voice in the back of her brain goaded her with the injustices reaped on her since conjuring Erlind. This sorry impasse was the result, the three fold curse coming back to repay her for her selfishness. Isolde bumped into a tray of flowers out of the shop and caught it before it exploded a rainbow of flowers across the sunny sidewalk.<br/><br/>Where was Chaya? She wondered, looking around quickly. First time out in society, in a place crawling with Nazis and she loses the girl would definitely be letting Hamish down.  Brushing a daisy petal from her olive green blouse, she appeared to casually survey the street. The pink spires of the Church cast shadows on the people who strolled through the sidewalks across the street. Vendors lined the sidewalk on this side selling coffee, rolls, flowers and balloons. Men and women seemed carefree but many had that blank eyed stare she had learned to dread seeing at the clinic. There were many of the effected ones in the crowd. Isolde felt dread as she realized that several, like this flower vendor, were now functioning fully but their eyes were dead. She sighed.<br/><br/>No arm bands to denote Nazi allegiance, no identifying sign to focus her energy, but Isolde knew these, the Damned, as she thought of them, were the real markers to remind her of who the enemy really was. Hamish was right.<br/><br/>Finally, she spotted Chaya who was clinging to the arm of a man she knew was dead and her blood ran cold. That Nazi had died on her examination table and she had been beaten nearly to death while she was covered in his blood. Isolde blinked and felt the blood rush from her head.  The  man’s eyes grew wide as he turned to speak to Chaya. When she nodded her head,  he let go of Chaya and made a bee line straight towards the Isolde, bumping into people on the sidewalk with a  look on his face which Isolde’s brain could not identify.<br/><br/>“Isolde, Isolde Devereaux. I have finally found you.” He blurted as he came closer, extending his hand.<br/><br/>“You are a dead man,” Isolde said, her eyes hard and cold. She was not unfamiliar with the supernatural, ghosts being one of that genre. “I watched you die and I could not save you. Do you haunt me as punishment? I hated you yet, I was not willing to let you die. I tried to save you. I tried. Now go back to the spiritworld. Be gone.”<br/><br/>Chaya joined them to hear the last of this.<br/><br/>“Izzy,” she began , putting her calming hand on Isolde's arm, “this is my old friend, Luciano Grazinelli. He has been friends with my family for more years than I’m alive.”<br/><br/>Isolde blushed and grimaced,<br/><br/>“So sorry, sir, I have mistaken you for someone else.” She took his outstretched hand and gave it a worthy shake in return, not the handshake of a lady who is too winsome to fully put her hand out as if expecting the man to kiss it, but  a solid handshake that a man would give to another which shows his strength and integrity.<br/>“Thank you, Chaya, for saving me once again.” Isolde said graciously to the girl, “please continue.”<br/><br/>“Oh, and Luciano, this is Isolde Devereaux, former healer to the city of Munich and now,” she looked at Isolde as if seeking some confirmation. “ and now, companion to my employer. There you are now properly introduced.”<br/><br/>Isolde and Luciano made small talk as the crowd on the sidewalk parted to flow around them. They spoke of the weather and of the bombing of France. Isolde found it difficult to keep her loyalties neutral but felt she did well. She was charming and witty, her red curls bouncing vivaciously. Any hope to remain unnoticed and able to fade into the background as less than feminine was seeping away by the minute. She had to remind herself that this was a façade, an act and that the real secret of her existence was the cold blood that ran in her veins. This was the tool that Hamish had wanted her to cultivate, how to set aside her personal feelings for the task at hand..<br/><br/>In an effort to still her trembling hands, she put them in her pockets where she crumpled the note into a small ball. Just touching the paper was enough to bring her back to her purpose. She glanced up at the spires of the church in time to see a man pull out a gun and begin shooting. With no thought, she shoved Chaya into Mr. Grazinelli’s arms and she raced across the street.  Her instinct was so strong, her training so ingrained that when all others rushed away from the danger, she rushed toward it.<br/><br/>Isolde hadn’t used her magic in sometime but she flung her arm at the man, causing the gun to go flying one way and the man, headlong into the hedges by the sanctuary under the long, skinny stain glassed windows. Nazi officers arrived to apprehend the man and luckily no one was hurt. Isolde stopped and stared up at the church, looming over her. She straightened the tails of her blouse and smoothed her curly mop of hair.<br/><br/>“Well, Universe, that is one way to make me cross that street.” She muttered as she waved back at Chaya and her friend that all was well.<br/><br/>Taking the note from her hand, she marched up the steps and decided to speak to the priest. If she remembered correctly, this Yvonne woman had declared she was some offspring of an angel so it stood to reason that she would frequent a church like an alcoholic would frequent a pub. Maybe the priest or one of the Sisters would know where to find her.