Victor, my dear,

It has been some time since your last letter, but young Tyce keeps an eye on the newspapers out of the North. ‘Missouri Mayor teams up with Marshal against Lily-White Circus League’ was a recent headline. No mention of you, but I’m familiar with the omissions when those in power are hiding something, and the doctor’s man in New York mentioned that one of them had assaulted you some days ago.

I would have killed them before the Marshal arrived, but I accept your merciful heart, and I am pleased at your survival. I would not expect anything less from you, first among my students.

It hurts to write for too long; my elbow was pushed out of place sometime in July and I haven’t gotten it fixed yet. It’s why I’ve left contacting you to your father. Still, I wanted to inform you personally. I am preparing to travel. According to Mr. Hicks, the doctor and your father have made some leeway in the East. I’m sure they’ll give you the details shortly. Since you’ll be travelling to Brooklyn once you’ve retrieved what is mine, I should get there well before you do and well before the other two find the path. I do not want you to worry. I know this body fares poorly on long trips, but I’m taking every precaution to ensure I arrive with no new malformations. I’m just making sure you know where to send letters in the future.

We received one of your ex-patients recently: a Miss Sarah. Based on her behavior and her recounting of your last meeting, you’ve already started the extractions. I was overjoyed to realize it. I’ve spent too long moving from reclusion to reclusion, fearing that an encounter with a single fool may break me beyond repair. I wish to regain what I am owed, down to the last pound, what he took from me. I can feel him sticking letters into my grave. Decades now and his fear still emanates from everything he touches, a Greek flame upon the bile in his throat. And under that, under the hatred, under that burning xenophobia, a hint of resentment. He’s no longer my favorite and there’s nothing he can do about it, and I think that frustrates him as much as anything you’ve actually done. He doesn’t even have the satisfaction of thinking he’s right.

When I am whole again, I think I might just find the Lily-White League and introduce them to the nature they’ve failed to steward. Then the Klan, then the Redeemers, then I head out West to see to this business of manifesting destiny. I’m not sure where I’ll stop at this point; I hate this country that much. The longer I stay this way, unable to do anything useful, the more I despise the people who call this country just as they benefit from its cruelty. A white man in this country could get his throat torn out by a mountain lion every hour, on the hour, and it could be months before it sank its teeth into a good person. You’ll argue with me, but you know what I know about what they’re like. I suspect you know it better after the circus incident.

One last word. I’m sending the letter by bonded courier, along with a gift for your birthday. Even now, I do not forget such things, my wonderful young man. It should help with your work on Anak, or with any other animal you wish to experiment with.