19 December 1894

Samuel,

I don't think you would believe what I wish to tell you. I am back from meeting Crowley and we had the most baffling of conversations. She doesn't think highly of you. That was the only thing I left knowing with any certainty. What is it about you that makes her so adverse to you? Is it you, or this strange - I don't know what to call it - force she attributes to blood magic?

I have so many questions, but I see how reluctant Miss Crowley is to move closer to the magic I now feel in my skin. I want to understand this knowledge. I have the need to measure it somehow; to impose my ideas of order on the unknown; to wrestle with it. Funny. Even the way I think of it is visceral and violent. Is that magic or my nature? I wonder if it matters.

I will continue my quest to understand all this tonight with my new, uneasy ally. She agreed to take me to the world of dreams tonight. I pray she feels obligated to bring me back.

My Sam, my guide, where have you left me to wander alone?

Yours,
T.L.

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