"In those years I had begun writing down the scraps of memories and experiences that came to me when I began to remember, in hopes that I could make some sense out of them. I did, of course, realize again what I was. I stoked the fire until the orange glow filled the room with enough light to read. The heat from the hearth was intense. I untied the leather straps that bound the loose pages and read each one before throwing it into the hot hungry mouth of the furnace.

"I was waiting in the bushes next to the crates when I heard the sound of oars breaking the water. I called out to him several times before he came to shore. By the moonlight, I could tell he had a companion that rowed the second boat. He greeted me warmly, then inspected all twenty works by holding them up to a lantern. There was no question about their quality. To this day they were the most exquisite things I have ever produced.

"The two men left quickly, and in the darkness, over the sounds of their rowing I thought I heard him yell back 'Buona Fortuna.' I followed the light of their lantern until I picked up the outline of the Italian shore in the morning sky, then veered west and went ashore and on to what I thought would be freedom beyond the Republic." She finished the last of her wine and placed the glass next to me.

I opened the red bottle and refilled both glasses. "That's an incredible story Poppy. In the stained glass there was a man with a knife stalking Marco, was he an assassin?"

"She," she corrected, "was an assassin and killed me in the streets of Prague three years later. It didn't matter in the end. In my next life, I took the secrets of Murano and made a fortune. I still live off that fortune today. I've worked with stained glass since then just to keep in practice."

I nodded and handed her the glass, noticing the tattoo. "I have another question for you Poppy."

"Yes."

"That symbol tattooed on your hand, it's above the doors on the outside of this vault too. What is it?"

"Oh this," she said, turning her hand so that she could see it, "this is called an 'Embe'. It's a tradition with us."

1 The Evergreen Cemetery, east of downtown at the corner of 1st and Evergreen, is Los Angeles’ oldest and matches Evan’s description of being an oasis of quiet within the city.

2 Poppy’s use of this term is interesting. The word palingenesis is an arcane term used to describe the metaphysical doctrine of the transmigration of the soul or in lay terms, reincarnation.