A Page of Jonathan Brooks's Letter to Sancho Dominguez

A blood-stained, torn page of a letter in Spanish

Dear Sancho,

Write to me as soon as you know anything. I am counting on you. I wish I could be there with you, but I am needed here. She needs me.

And I will not let Trammel intimidate me. This is my city, not his. Who is this Samson Trammel that he presumes to fill Ramon Echevarria's shoes? He is not worthy of lacing them! He thinks that Echevarria told him everything. But, he has not even figured out that Echevarria was performing a ritual within his ritual at the farm. S.S. knows as much, and I know it too, but this man who thinks he was beloved and trusted of Ramon Echevarria knows nothing!

He tries to trick me with lies, to tell me that the Black Man, the Messenger was Echevarria's god. We both know, you and I, that it was Gol-Goroth. We must learn about Golxumal.

Samson Trammel fears me. He fears everyone who might know more than he knows. He fears Edgar Job. He fears what we might learn if we were to speak with him, and this is why he had him locked up in the asylum in Savannah.

He was jealous, too, jealous that one supposedly as beloved as Samson Trammel believed himself to be was passed over as the Chosen One.

But, Ramon Echevarria chose Edgar Job. Why? This is what I ask myself. I know that Ramon Echevarria was far too intelligent to ever choose Samson Trammel. But, why choose one such as Edgar Job, and for what was he chosen?

This Edgar Job, Sancho, he was -nothing-. Nobody. He was some pompous student that George Ayers introduced to Echevarria. He wasn't even a good student, I understand. Yet, Ramon Echevarria cultivated him. He spent hours speaking with Edgar Job, often in private, placing him before those of us who served him better.

That night at the ritual, he showed Edgar to everyone in turn. He told us all to look at Edgar Job, to gaze upon him. Edgar Job was chosen. How that must have galled Samson Trammel!

That man was so convinced that he was the special one. He took over when Ramon Echevarria died, this worm. He presumes to dictate to us how we should run our business, how we should record our music, how we should make our sales. He is jealous! Jealous, jealous of us like he was of Edgar Job.

And who is this Edgar Job that he presumes to usurp Ramon Echevarria's favor? Why did he get special treatment? Why did he get anointed with oils and protected with spells? There were many of us more worthy!

I am not an immodest man, Sancho. I know I am no Ramon Echevarria. But, I have more vision than Samson Trammel. I am more capable than twenty Edgar Jobs! I have been running a business! This man could barely take care of his own needs!