Hello Quentin,
So he is dead? Good. Excellent. As for Karen, I’m glad she “killed herself”, less for us to do. Although, I’m sure we will have to reckon with that eventually. But there are other concerns we should attend to first.
We have so much more to do, my friend. Oscar and Charles. They must go as well. Traitors and Fiends have a special place in Hell. And what a delicious satisfaction it will bring when we finally send them there. They will all be staring at us from Hell, Quentin. Ice cold eyes, wreathed in flame.
Although they will suffer indefinitely, torture will come to us as well. I have no doubt that they will try to contact us, and we cannot avoid this. Nor can we ignore it, to do so would be to nurture disaster. Sounds good doesn’t it?
Two nights ago while I was nursing a rum and coke, I began to think about recent events. Life and death are curious abstractions aren’t they, Quentin? Which is more valuable? Life or death? This is difficult, because without life one cannot die, nor can one kill. Yet without death, what point is there in living? And the ability to take lives? Is it a desirable trait? Yes. I would not trade it for any worldly or other worldly wealth. The ability to take lives is the ultimate power. Is it worth the haunting voices? Yes. I have become so accustomed to them that in their absence I fear I would collapse.
They are burning, Quentin. Flames devour their flesh. Alexander was the first. The martyr. The catalyst. The beginning.
We will be the end of them all.
You are the snake bearer, Quentin. And I am your gardener.
Yours Truly,
Edgar