Ghost Writer - Pandora Pine Page 0,81

cruel world in which I find myself an unwilling participant seems to stretch ahead of me with no end in sight. I’ve done everything asked of me. So have the others. It does not matter.

I have come to the conclusion Father Radcliffe Musgrave is a man bent only on causing pain to others. He wears the vestments of a man of God, yet there is nothing godly about him. The bruises and other injuries on my aching body form a roadmap of his cruelty and utter disregard for human life.

Yes, I have a demon. I have done everything humanly possible to rid myself of this malady, yet it persists. I’ve made peace with him. I may crave the company of men, but never in my life have I been cruel. Never have I spoken ill of another with the sole intent of causing pain or alienation. I will happily die, for there is nothing, neither starvation, nor repeated beatings, nor the other indignities I’ve suffered at my tormentor’s hands, that has been able to drive this beast from me. I will die in peace knowing my Lord and Savior will be waiting to greet me at the gates of heaven.

If this letter somehow makes it to the outside world, please send help. I do not know how much longer I can last. If it is too late to save me, please save the others. Father Radcliffe Musgrave is a blight upon this earth. He must be eradicated. I was too weak to do it myself. Perhaps you will be stronger.

He is coming for me. Possibly for the last time. Pray for me. Pray for us all.

Yours in Christ,

Brooks Stanhope

Jude was out of his seat and pacing around the room. “I don’t understand why Crenshaw would keep this letter from us. Where the hell has it been all this time? Did anyone save the men kept in the cages?”

The same questions had been turning through Cope’s mind as well. “This letter gives us a lot more information than we had an hour ago, but we still don’t know what led up to Brooks’ death and what happened to the other men and women who were being held with him.” As for where the letter had been all this time, Cope had his own ideas about that. “I don’t want to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but this letter and the fact that it took a visit from a very angry Madam Aurora in order for it to be sent to us, makes me wonder if Crenshaw is somehow involved in all of this.”

“There’s one way to find out.” Jude ran into the kitchen, returning a moment later with his laptop. “With the way this case has been going, I’ll bet you a nickel Crenshaw is somehow related to Musgrave. I’ll bet you another nickel the cycle of violence is something that’s been handed down through generations. Hate. Misogyny. Anti-gay sentiments. This family has it all.” Jude bit his lip, possibly to prevent himself from going off on a tangent, while he struck the keys on his laptop with more force than was needed.

Cope had never given much thought to his family’s legacy when he was younger. One half of the family was filled with stodgy businessmen intent on making as much money as possible, while the other side of the family dabbled in potions and witchcraft. His own mother had used magick to urge his father to fall in love with her. Cope had known from the beginning how wrong that was. Magick pays the price, as the saying goes, and his mother paid hers by being stuck in an unhappy marriage for thirty years. Meanwhile, Buford had been an absentee father, even though they lived in the same house. The minute his father realized he wasn’t interested in sports or following in his business footsteps, he’d abandon his son, only seeing him at family suppers.

Cope vowed he would never use magick or any of his other gifts to influence his future relationships, should he have any. He’d further vowed that no matter what interests his children had, he’d follow along with them and be as supportive as possible. Cope was a realist though. He knew not every family was strong enough to break the cycle they had been born into.

What did you do when hate and sadism were the family business? Cope shuddered to even think about it. Sometimes you had to go along to get along, a thought that