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Yes, Merrick, the brave and brilliant member of the Talamasca, that is the story I have to tell:
Long before computers were so very common, she had mastered them for her own writing and was soon heard to be
tapping away at fantastical speed on her keyboard late into the night. She published hundreds of translations and articles
for our members, and many, under a pseudonym, in the outside world.
Of course we are very careful in sharing all such learning. It is not our purpose to be noticed; but there are things which
we do not feel we can keep to ourselves. We would never have insisted on a pseudonym, however; but Merrick was as
secretive about her own identity as ever she was as a child.
Meanwhile, as regards the "uptown Mayfairs" of New Orleans, she showed little interest in them personally, hardly
bothering with the few records we recommended that she read. They were never her people, really, no matter what she
might have thought of "Oncle Julien" appearing in Great Nananne's dream. Also, no matter what one might observe about
the "powers" of those Mayfairs, they have in this century almost no interest at all in "ritual magic," and that was Merrick's
chosen field.
Of course nothing of Merrick's possessions had ever been sold. There was no reason to sell anything. It would have
been absurd.
The Talamasca is so very rich that the expenses of one person, such as Merrick, mean virtually nothing, and Merrick,
even when she was very young, was devoted to the projects of the Order and worked of her own free will in the archives
to update records, make translations, and identify and label articles very similar to those Olmec treasures which belonged
to her.
If ever a member of the Talamasca earned her own way, it was Merrick, almost to a degree which put us to shame.
Therefore, if Merrick wanted a shopping spree in New York or Paris, no one was likely to deny it. And when she chose a
black Rolls Royce sedan as her personal car, soon establishing a small worldwide collection of them, no one thought it a
bad idea at all.
Merrick was some twenty-four years old before she approached Aaron about taking stock of the occult collection she
had brought to the Order ten years before.
I remember it because I remember Aaron's letter.
"Never has she shown the slightest interest," he wrote:
and you know how this has worried me. Even when she made her family history and sent it off to various scholars,
she did not touch upon the occult heritage at all. But this afternoon she confided to me that she has had several
"important" dreams about her childhood, and that she must return to Great Nananne's house. Together with our driver
we made the trip back to the old neighborhood, a sad journey indeed.
The district has sunk considerably lower, I think, than she could have imagined, and I believe the shattered ruin of the
"corner bar" and the "corner store" took her quite by surprise. As for the house, it has been splendidly maintained by the
man who lives on the premises, and Merrick spent almost an hour, alone by choice, in the rear yard.
There the caretaker had made a patio, and the shed is virtually empty. Nothing remains of the temple, naturally,
except the brightly painted center post.
She said nothing to me afterwards, absolutely refusing to discuss these dreams of hers in any detail.
She expressed extreme gratitude to me that we'd kept the house for her, during her period of "negligence," and I hoped
this might be the end of it.
But at supper, I was quite astonished to hear that she planned to move back into the house and spend part of her time
there from now on. She wanted all the old furniture, she told me. She'd supervise the arrangements herself.
"What about the neighborhood?" I found myself asking weakly, to which she replied with a smile, "I was never afraid
of the neighbors. You'll soon discover, Aaron, that the neighbors will become afraid of me." Not to be outdone, I
quipped, "And suppose some stranger should try to murder you, Merrick," to which she fired back, "Heaven help the
man or woman who would attempt such a thing."
Merrick was as good as her word, and did move back to the "old neighborhood," but not before building a caretaker's
quarters above the old shed.
The two miserably rundown houses which flanked the house were purchased and demolished, and brick walls went up
around three sides of the enormous lot and along the front, coming to meet the high iron picket fence directly before the
facade. There was always to be a man on the property; some sort of alarm system was installed; flowers were planted.
Feeders were put out for the hummingbirds once more. It all sounded quite wholesome, and natural, but having once seen
that house, I was still chilled by frequent stories of how Merrick came and went.
The Motherhouse remained her true home, but many afternoons, according to Aaron, she disappeared into New Orleans
and did not return for several days.
"The house is now quietly spectacular," Aaron wrote to me. "All the furniture was of course repaired and refinished, and
Merrick has claimed Great Nananne's mammoth four-poster for her own. The floors of heart pine have been beautifully
redone, giving the house a rather amber glow. Nevertheless, it worries me dreadfully that Merrick secludes herself there
for days on end."
Naturally, I myself wrote to Merrick, broaching the subject of the dreams that had motivated her return to the house.
"I want to tell you about these things but it is too soon," Merrick replied immediately.
Let me say only that in these dreams it is Great-Oncle Vervain who talks with me. Sometimes I'm a child again as I
was on the day he died. Other times we are adults together. And it seems, though I cannot with uniform success
remember everything, in one dream we were both young.
For now, you mustn't worry. You must realize that it was inevitable that I should return to my childhood home. I am
of an age when people become curious about the past, especially when it has been sealed off so successfully and
abruptly as was mine.
Understand, I do not feel guilt for having abandoned the house where I grew up. It is only that my dreams are telling
me that I must return. They tell me other things as well.
These letters worried me, but Merrick gave only brief responses to my queries.
Aaron had also become concerned. Merrick was spending less and less time at Oak Haven. Often he made the drive into
New Orleans to call upon her at the old house, that is, until Merrick asked to be left alone.
Of course, such a manner of living is not uncommon among Talamasca members. Frequently they divide their time
between the Motherhouse and a private family home. I had and still do have a home in the Cotswolds in England. But it is
not a good sign when a Member absents herself from the Order for long periods of time. In Merrick's case it was
particularly disturbing due to her frequent and cryptic mentions of her dreams.
During the fall of that fateful year, her twenty-fifth, Merrick wrote to me about a journey to the cave.
Let me continue with my reconstruction here of her words:
"David, I no longer sleep through the night without a dream of my Great-Oncle Vervain. Yet less and less am I able to
recall the substance of these dreams. I know only that he wants me to return to the cave I visited in Central America when
I was a child. David, I must do this. Nothing can prevent it. The dreams have become a form of obsession, and I ask that
you not bombard me with logical objections to what you know I must do."
She went on to talk about her treasure.
I have been through all of the so-called Olmec treasures, and I know now they are not Olmec at all. In fact, I can't
identify them, though I have every published book or catalog on antiquities in that part of the world. As for the
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