<sub>“Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Viticus asks.

Jumping is a shameless reflex. I had no idea he was there, reading the scanned pages over my shoulder like some secret little spy. Damn the Dead and their invisibility tricks…

“You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sits next to me, finding a seat on the table instead of at it. “I couldn’t help myself. But it does make you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“About what?”

The Saint shrugs. “All the things he never tells you about himself. About Allys… I wonder how much he doesn’t let himself remember about her, just to save himself the trouble of mourning the loss of a great love…”

“How poetic.”

“I’m a musician.” He shrugs again, looking down at his hands. “Once in a while, I churn out something good. (He sighs.) It’s a damn shame…”

“What is?”

Really. Like I have to ask.

“He probably went to see her. In fact…I’d bet Catherine on it. But it’s just a shame…he went to see her, and there’s absolutely no chance whatsoever that she’ll see him.”

“That’s…” I frown. “That’s really fucking depressing, Viticus.”

“Yeah…well…” He taps at the computer screen. “So are these letters. How many are left?”

“Just one. It’s from…huh. January 22^nd. Two days before he died.”

“Well…” Viticus shrugs. He runs fingers through his hair. “You’ve read the others.”

“Yeah…”

The handwriting is sloppier, looser, and harder to read. Maybe that’s a sign we shouldn’t. But we’ve come this far, we’ve pried this deeply into his life already… I just wish he was here with us as we read it. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be feeling so guilty.</sub>