The phone jangled during the mid morning. Isolde wiped her hands on her multipocketed apron and answered.<br/><br/>Heavy breathing replied to her, "Flowers for You. This is Isolde, How may I help you?'<br/><br/>She listened for a bit and started to hang up. A raspy voice commanded. "Stay on the line."<br/><br/>Frowning, Isolde waited . The voice came back.<br/><br/>"Don't think you are safe. The master is patient and can play this game longer than you. He has nothing to lose but drones. So you liked our little dragon?"<br/><br/>Isolde slammed the phone down. The skin on the back of her neck crawled. She blinked as she looked out the large plate glass windows. The sun was shining. People were walking up and down the side walk. Everyone looked normal. The traffic was flowing lightly and smoothly.<br/><br/>Was she the only person in Boston surrounded by magikal insanity?