The letter—penned on blue-lined paper torn from a spiral binder—began in a spidery, elegant hand that strayed repeatedly into near illegibility. He remembered how he had known outright it was an old person’s writing, for it was scripted in a style he had seen nowhere but on antique postcards—penmanship taught in the old schools. He felt even now, after all that had happened, as he had felt then: that in entering Eli’s world, even for the space of time it took to scan the letter, he had embarked on a journey to a stranger realm than he had ever suspected could exist alongside his own. It was a neurotic, paranoid, fundamentally unhinged world, but Eli’s power and persuasiveness were such that Derek had been sucked into it more completely than he had cared to admit at the time—until the end of their relationship. And it was here, first reading this letter, that he had found himself on the outermost turn of that spiral, about to be drawn in closer and closer to the old man… into his madness.
Elias Mooney
16043 Blackoak Avenue
San Diablo, California
Mr. Derek Crowe
c/o Phantom Books
New York City
Dear Mr. Crowe:
Please excuse this letter out of the Blue, which may presume too much of your attention. I hope you will find Something in it worth your while. I intend to offer you the Opportunity of your Lifetime!
I have been an avid reader and collector of Occult books for longer than you have been alive. I can assure you I read with an open yet critical Mind, finding much Garbage touted as true Revelation. One must search diligently to find the kernels of Truth hidden in so much Chaff. There are, however, a few Authors whose works I identify with Integrity—such as the late Dion Fortune, with whom I had the good “Fortune” of corresponding for several years prior to her Death. I am happy to have discovered your two excellent volumes, as I can see you are a devoted Seeker of Truth like myself and Madame Fortune; and indeed a worthy Correspondent. (It says on the back of Your Psychic Allies that you live in San Francisco, only a short train ride from San Diablo; so in fact, more than correspondents, we might even strike up a Relationship over the telephone, or possibly in Person!)
I am certain that an Occultist of your stature receives many letters from all over the Globe. Even I myself, who have no Books to my name, receive a great deal of literature (most of it unwanted Trash!) and letters from people who know me by Reputation. Although I am unpublished, I am considered somewhat of an Authority in certain Circles. You may have come across my Name in the course of your Studies.
But in case you have never heard of “Elias Mooney,” let me tell you a little about Myself.
I was born early in this Century, the victim of a congenital Deformity. I have been confined to a Wheelchair for my entire Life. Yet do not Pity me, for despite my confinement, and occasional fits of Epilepsy, my Health has been better than might be expected and I have lived a completely full and active Life, wedding three Wives and having children by two. (I am a Widower currently, choosing not to remarry a fourth time, as I feel my life’s Course nearing its End. My Enemies may say this is long Overdue.)
As you might Imagine, given such restrictions, I have lived largely a Life of the Mind, though not one given over unduly to Phantasy. Very early on, before any Adult could Pollute my Will with discourses on what is and is not Possible, I mastered the art of Astral Projection, with which I am quite sure you are familiar. This Skill—for I believe it is a skill anyone can develop, and not a Talent or Gift as the Old Biddies who write for Fate Magazine would have us believe—enabled me to travel far and wide, not only on this Earth but throughout the Cosmos and even Beyond, into what are quaintly and inaccurately called “Other Dimensions,” so that long before I could speak the Language of my Terrestrial family, I was conversant in the tongues of no fewer than two dozen Alien civilizations presently unknown to Modern Science. Some of these Species are already Extinct, others have yet to Arise; such are the properties of Space-time—stranger than Einstein or Hawking can Conceive—that the Astral Body can travel into Past and Future as easily as it penetrates Distance.
As a Child, I instinctively kept this Knowledge to myself. I was already considered a Freak by many outside my immediate family. But I roamed the country astrally and so grew acquainted with the Lives of my neighbors, gathering Information no one thought I should have. Sometimes even my family Feared me, although this fear was more Painful and Frightening to me than I can possibly convey, and in response I grew more withdrawn than before. At the age when most children are Free to run in the fields and climb Trees, I was closeted in darkened rooms. My only Friend was my Teacher, a very gentle Woman who showed great concern for me and whom I grew to Love tenderly. I often attended her regular schoolhouse classes in the Astral, watching her unobserved, and learned the day’s Lesson before she brought it to me. Once I followed her home to her Husband, and—with very little Comprehension—perceived their most Intimate acts in great detail and with such absorption that I felt my Astral body being sucked into their Passion like a Mote swirling down into a Whirlpool. I shrank to a mere speck of Consciousness, weak as a tiny filing of Iron before a great blind Magnet; thus the disembodied Soul, wandering between Lives, is drawn down to Earth and Rebirth. (I have felt the same Vertiginous suction on the Battlefield, where the Astral body is irresistibly drawn to fresh Blood, to the passion of Death as well as that of Birth.) I loved my Teacher so much, with a Child’s Love, that I almost surrendered my Deformed body to be reborn as her child. Only as Sperm penetrated Egg did I truly realize my great Danger, and like any Animal whose Existence is threatened, fought my way free again, struggling back to my body along a thin silver Thread, to lie Sick in my bed for many days afterward. This was a great Turning-point in my life. I could never again face my Teacher; I used to Scream and Weep when she came near. Soon afterward she gave up teaching and bore a Child, and I did not see her again until I was much older, and her son—who had nearly been Myself—full Grown.
I say it was a turning-point because it taught me the powerful Danger of Truth. It is not an easy thing to Witness that which we cannot understand—and are not ready to Behold. I saw too much. Fortunately, I had already discovered for myself the existence of those Psychic Allies which you describe so well in your book. I called on them to Shield me from things I was not meant to Know until the time was ripe. I understood that I was not like Others; that the Goals and Dreams and Ambitions of the world were less than Useless to me. I had an entirely different Destiny. I thus devoted myself completely to mastery of the Mysteries.
I cannot of course write much of these Here, as you certainly know that letters may be Intercepted. I have good reason to believe that my mail and telephone are monitored by certain geometrically unstable Forces and their human Agents. They cannot physically block my letters for fear of alerting us to their Presence, but they certainly do Scan the contents in search of my supposed Weaknesses. We live in a Dark Configuration, you see, when it is all but impossible for the tiniest flame of Truth to burn in secrecy. That Flame needs Air for fuel, yet some days I hardly dare open a window because of my neighbors and their Suspicions. I think these Days are worse for Us than the Burning Times, for in the Past communities were small and there were many places to work in secret outside the isolated Webwork of Rumor and Betrayal to which the Inquisitors had access; but today the Web extends everywhere, even over the very Computer and telephone lines that are supposed to have Freed us. The tools of Surveillance are so ubiquitous that we are literally Irradiated with aetherial waves of Suspicion and Paranoia, forced to consign our heartfelt messages to channels which by their very Nature Distort and Obscure our intentions with statistical hiss, not to mention the Government’s deliberate manipulation of wave forms. This Perversion is the cause of every modern War, and even most Domestic misunderstandings. You will understand when I say there are Things I can tell you in Person that I would not trust to the postal “service” or telephone company, just as there are Things you cannot print for wide distribution, things I see you skillfully hinting at, and all but defining by their Absence from your Work. Cunningly done! You may rest assured that some few of your Readers can indeed Decode the Cryptograms you bury in your Text; those who can do so are Initiates sworn to put the knowledge to Good use. Others, the Unclean, no matter how hard they search for these Clues, remain constitutionally Blind, forever Ignorant—at least until they admit their Evil and Reverse their Ways, so that etic truth may permeate the shells of their emic reality.