Poe must die

FORTY-TWO

Jonathan. The sixth night.

Asmodeus had given him the name of the victim selected for the final blood rite.

Rachel Coltman.

The rite was to be performed in the barn, without leaving the circle; Jonathan was to lure the woman here, then carve out her heart and liver, burning them. If the husband is to be removed from the world of death, let the wife take his place; she was the price Jonathan must pay before reaching the end of the rite.

Kill Rachel Coltman here on the final day, on the ninth day.

* * * *

Poe closed his eyes, rubbing the corners with his fingers.

Figures, names, dates all swam in front of him and he saw nothing. But he had to see, he had to!

He wanted liquor, he wanted its warmth and protection, but he would have to deny himself that salvation. Does a man gain salvation by denying himself salvation?

Poe opened his eyes wide, drawing the lamp closer. He had much reading to do. He was checking land records to learn what Hugh Larney owned and where. The musty smell of the property building’s cellar was abominable and Poe was too sick to stand it for much longer, but he owed Figg.

He owed him a great deal.

Poe continued to turn the pages of the large book that recorded those dealings by which a handful of men were profiting on land that was becoming more and more valuable with each passing day.

Later the clerk found Poe asleep, head down on one of the books.