From a distance, Lucia heard the voice of her husband, calling out to her. Softly she moaned his name in answer. She did not want to awaken, however. It was peaceful where she was. The peace was so powerful that she wondered if she had ever truly felt peace before. Even her bones seemed to hum with the slow energy of it. It held her and she embraced it. The voice was insistent that she wake. As the poison cleared her mind, she became aware of the cold slimy stone at her back, the overwhelming stench of sewers, but mostly she realized the voice was not her husbands. Kopfjagger stood over her, an empty vial on the floor beside him. Her head held in his leather bound hands. She was speaking to him as his gloved hands stroked her hair. It was slow and slurred at first, but she was speaking.