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59

You can't linger with so many eyes on you, and you dare not touch Prince Lettow's papers. Many Old World Kindred, you've learned, regard written correspondence as almost sacred, and you don't want to find out what infuriates this Prince. Still…what did Knowles do? Torture the Scab until he went mad? Conduct some kind of experiment or ritual? The possibilities are endless, and chilling.

Unfortunately you can't get anything useful out of this correspondence. You scan long lists of names, date stamps, requests for different kinds of materials going to different places all over Arizona and Texas. It's just a heap of raw, unsorted data. You'd need hours to make sense of it.

"Hey," Dove says. "Hey, Cvjo. Could you do me a favor and get the fuck away from our shit?"

You make a hasty retreat before you anger the Camarilla further.

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