Hamish listened to her tale but his mind was slightly distracted when she had touched his hand. The gesture was warming and he could not recall the last time someone had touched him in such a fashion. The Nazi officers would sometimes pat him on the back or shake a hand but mostly they avoided him, like everyone else.<br/><br/>But Isolde seemed no more fearful of him than she would be of a kitten. Hamish enjoyed the sensation of her voice, talking to him in conversation. There was no begging or pleading, although Hamish thought he might have detected the edge of deep urgency as she spoke.<br/><br/>Myra entered with tea and served it then gave Hamish a sly wink. Hamish, so unused to the machinations of subtle hints could only wink back. Rule number one of survival, when in doubt blend in.<br/><span style="font-style: italic"><br/>“I have few allies. I believe I will trust you but first, wisdom dictates that I must be transparent with you. I am a witch. Not the kind who dances about on the full moon or rides a broom across the darkened night sky, but a witch by birth. My power is neither good nor evil but will become what I will it to be. I am powerful and I am immortal. My bloodline is pure as is Darcy’s.”</span><br/><br/>Hamish sat slowly in his chair his mouth agape at her news. A witch? Why was he not more surprised by this revelation? He felt he should be in disbelief of her and yet he swallowed every word and knew it as truth.<br/><br/>There came again a fluttering memory, as if he was seeing something he did but logic told him was impossible. He was in the garb of an American revolutionary, conversing with a Native tribe who were presenting him to their medicine man. He could smell the pipeweed and the clean air of the open plains. He felt the heat of the summer night while the itchy fabric pricked at his skin. He was slightly larger of frame and his red hair hung in a long ponytail. But it was unmistakably Hamish.<br/><br/>No one had died that night. The medicine man had had shown him a spirit world and spoke then of demons and guardians. Every eon had its hell and heaven, good and evil, demons and angels. Hamish wondered at the revelation she had just given him but he could not find himself surprised.<br/><br/>Isolde brought his attention out of the quagmire that was his mind with promises of power to destroy her immortal opposite. When she touched his wrist, Hamish had to control his breathing. He could feel his control slipping.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Hitler must be stopped and Darcy must be stopped. There is madness afoot in the world and we could be vehicles for change. But you have an appetite for blood. If I empower you, will I be sending you to your doom? Will the hunger abate when the mission is over?”</span><br/><br/>“I d-d-do not hunger for b-b-blood,” Hamish stammered out, his control finally slipping at his need to help this fascinating woman. But he would push through it. “I kill b-b-because that is wh-what I know. Tonight, I w-w-will hunt down three Nazi soldiers for c-c-crimes against my hostess, Chaya. It will m-mean little in the end b-b-but for her, it means a b-better night of sleep and for me, it maybe erases some of the b-blood I have spilled without question.”<br/><br/>Hamish opened and closed his fists, fighting to regain his control. But a flame had been lit and it was setting the dry and long untouched part of him into a stormy inferno. Hamish looked as deeply into her eyes as he could, to show her his sincerity. The piercing blue orbs swallowed him.<br/><br/>“I make no p-promises about what happens after b-but if you will have an ally, I will d-do all in my power to k-keep you from harm. I believe you are far m-more important in this fight than I, Frau Devereaux. I can offer you this house for any of your needs. It has m-many rooms and a b-basement that has been b-built to withstand bombs. I can offer you money, I have earned m-much over the years. My final offer to you is as your weapon. I b-believe yours w-would be a g-good fight."<br/><br/>Hamish closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, clearing his mind of his distractions. Seeking his internal balance, Hamish felt the battle inside him waning. He opened his eyes, "I am merely a man, a mortal, trained to kill, and that I do very well.”<br/><br/>A slight, familiar chill snaked a silent path through him as those final words whispered their way into the world. No hint of a stutter present as the assassin fought its way back onto the throne of Hamish’s soul.