Julia is quite all right and safe — here in the past.  The future is saved.  I would gladly claim the credit, but the thanks goes to Count Petofi.

Most triumphantly, I solved the riddle of Quentin.  His obsession with David was a residual regret and mad obsession with the heartbroken Jameson.  For the Quentin Collins of that course of history — one now rechannelled — died having destroyed the soul of the one person he loved… and no chance to atone.  The question now is what he shall do with this second chance at life.  Will his choices be as mine?  He has no Joshua or Jeremiah to guide him, although I shall do my best in their stead.  His sense of shock has driven him to melancholy, rather than elation.  This concerns me just as much.

Although Julia demanded that we leave this century, I have determined that we shall — nay, must — remain.  Mr. Chris Jennings’ lycanthropic curse indicates that he is a descendant of Quentin’s.  If that is the case, then Quentin’s salvation from the curse may be key for Chris.  I am also more aware of Petofi’s true threat — and more capable of battling him — than anyone.  Julia, having seen the clear benevolence and necessity of my reasoning, has embraced this crusade as have I.

At her behest, I am now submitting to her cure, although with substandard substitutions for her original ingredients.  Upon reconsideration, perhaps it shall be more effective!



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