hen the ritual was over, silence fell over the encampment, and everyone made their sleeping arrangements. Except Valhalla.

She walked some distance from the camp, and gazed for a long time at the moon. She asked the archangel Michael to continue to appear to her, to continue to provide her with valuable advice,

and to help her to maintain a firm hand.

You won in your battles with the other angels, she prayed. Teach me to win. That I not disperse this flock of eight people, so that one day we might be thousands, millions. Forgive my errors, and fill my heart with enthusiasm. Grant me the strength to be both man and woman,

both hard and soft.

May my word be your lance.

May my love be your scale.

She made the sign of the cross, and fell silent, listening to the howl of a coyote in the distance.

She was wakeful, and began to think back on her life. She remembered when she had been just an employee at the Chase Manhattan Bank, and when her life amounted to nothing more than her husband and her two children.

Then I saw my angel, she said to the silent desert. The angel appeared to me, enveloped in light, and asked that I take on this mission. I was not forced, there were no threats, nor any promise of reward. My angel simply asked.

She had left the next day, and went straight to the Mojave Desert. She began preaching alone,

speaking of the open gates to Paradise. Her husband divorced her and won custody of the children. She didn't really understand clearly why she had accepted this mission, but every time she wept out of pain and solitude, her angel told her stories of other women who had accepted messages from God: the Virgin Mary, Saint Theresa, and Joan of Arc. The angel said that all the world needed was an example. People who were capable of following their dreams and of fighting for their ideas.

She lived for almost a year outside Las Vegas. She exhausted the little money she had been able to pull together, went hungry, and slept outdoors. Until one day, a poem came into her hands.

The poem told the story of a saint, Maria Egipciaca. She was traveling to Jerusalem, and had no money to pay for her passage across a river. The boatman, eyeing the attractive woman,

suggested to her that, although she had no money, she did have her body. Maria Egipciaca surrendered herself to the boatman. When she arrived at Jerusalem, an angel appeared and blessed her for what she had done. And, although today almost no one remembers her, she was canonized by the church following her death.

Valhalla interpreted the story as a sign. She preached in God's name during the day, and twice a week went to the casinos, became the lover of wealthy men, and was able to put together some money. She never asked her angel whether she was doing the right thingand her angel said nothing.

Little by little, led by the invisible hands of other angels, her companions began to arrive.

One more trip, she said again, aloud, to the silent desert. Only one more trip to complete my mission, and then I can get back to the world. I have no idea what awaits me, but I want to get back. I need love, affection. I need someone who can protect me here on earth, just as my angel protects me in heaven. I have done my part; I have no regrets, even though it was awfully hard.

She made the sign of the cross again, and returned to the encampment.

SHE SAW THAT THE BRAZILIAN COUPLE WAS STILL SEATED by the campfire, gazing at the flames.

How many days until your fortieth? she asked Paulo.

Eleven.

Well then, tomorrow night, at ten o'clock, in Golden Canyon, I will make you accept forgiveness. The Ritual That Demolishes Rituals.

Paulo was astonished. She was right! The answer had been under his nose the whole time!

Using what? he asked.

Using hatred, Valhalla answered.

That's fine, he said, trying to conceal his surprise. But Valhalla knew that Paulo had never used hatred in the Ritual That Demolishes Rituals.

She left the couple and went to where Rotha, the youngest of the Valkyries, was sleeping. She affectionately caressed the girl's face to awaken herRotha might have been making contact with the angels that appear in one's sleep, and Valhalla didn't want to interrupt the conversation. Rotha finally opened her eyes.

Tomorrow night, you are going to learn how to accept forgiveness, Valhalla said. And then you will be able to see your angel.

But I'm already a Valkyrie.

Of course. And even if you are not able to see your angel, you will still be a Valkyrie.

Rotha smiled. She was twenty-three, and was proud to be roaming the desert with Valhalla.

Don't wear your leather outfit tomorrow. Not from the moment the sun rises until the end of the Ritual That Demolishes Rituals.

She embraced her with great affection. Go back to sleep, she said.

Paulo and Chris continued to sit by the fire for another half hour. Then they arranged some of their clothing as pillows, and prepared to sleep. They had thought about purchasing sleeping bags at every large city they had passed through, but they couldn't bring themselves to shop around. More than anything, they always hoped to find a hotel somewhere. So, when it was necessary to camp out with the Valkyries, they either had to sleep in the car or near the fire.

Their hair had already been scorched several times by blowing sparksbut nothing any more serious had happened until now.

What did she mean? Chris asked as they lay there.

Nothing important. He had had a couple of beers, and was sleepy.

But Chris pressed the matter. She wanted an answer.

Everything in life is a ritual, Paulo said. For witches as much as for those who have never heard of witchcraft. Both are always trying to perform their rituals to perfection.

Chris knew that those on the magical path had their rituals. And she understood, as well, that there were rituals in everyday lifemarriages, baptisms, graduations.

No, no. I'm not talking about those obvious rituals, he went on impatiently. He wanted to sleep, but she pretended not to have sensed his irritation. I'm saying that everything is a ritual.

Just as a mass is a great ritual, composed of various parts, the everyday experience of any person is, also.

A carefully elaborate ritual that the person tries to perform precisely, because he or she is afraid thatif any part is left outeverything will go wrong. The name of that ritual is Routine.

He decided to sit up. He was groggy because of the beers he had drunk, and if he continued to lie down, he would be unable to complete his explanation.

When we are young, we don't take anything too seriously. But slowly, this set of daily rituals becomes solidified, and takes us over. Once things have begun to go along pretty much as we imagined they would, we don't dare risk altering the ritual. We like to complain, but we are reassured by the fact that each day is more or less like every other. At least there is no unexpected danger.

That way, we are able to avoid any inner or outer growth, except for the kinds that are provided for within the ritual: so many children, such and such a kind of promotion, this and that kind of financial success. When the ritual becomes consolidated, the person becomes a slave.

Does that happen sometimes with those on the path?

Of course. They use the ritual to make contact with the invisible world, to destroy the second mind, and to enter into the Extraordinary. But, for us too, the terrain we conquer becomes familiar. And we feel the need to seek out new territories. But any magus is fearful of changing the ritual. It's a fear of the unknown, or a fear that other rituals won't function as wellbut it is an irrational fear, a strong one, that never disappears without some help.

And what is the Ritual That Demolishes Rituals?

Since a magus is unable to change their rituals, the Tradition decides to change the magus. It's a kind of Sacred Theater in which the magus has to play a different character.

He lay down again, turned on his side, and pretended to sleep. Chris might ask for further explanations. She might want to know why Valhalla had mentioned hatred.

Negative emotions were never invoked in the sacred theater. On the contrary, people who participated in that kind of theater tried to work with the good, and to assume characters that were strong, enlightened. That way, they were able to convince themselves that they were better people than they had thought, andwhen they believed thattheir lives changed.

To work with negative emotions would mean the same thing. He would wind up convincing himself that he was worse than he had imagined.

THEY SPENT THE AFTERNOON OF THE FOLLOWING DAY exploring Golden Canyon, a series of ravines with tortuous curves and walls about twenty feet high. At the moment that the sun set,

while they were doing their channeling exercise, they saw how the place had acquired its name:

The brilliant minerals embedded in the rock reflected the rays of the sun, causing the walls to appear to be carved out of gold.

Tonight there will be a full moon, Paulo said.

They had already seen the full desert moon, and it was an extraordinary spectacle.

I awoke today thinking about a passage in the Bible, he continued. It's from Solomon: 'It is good that you retain this, and that you not take away your hand from it; for whoever fears the Lord will emerge from everything unscathed.'

A strange message, Chris said.

Very strange.

My angel is speaking to me more and more, she told him. I'm beginning to understand the words. I understand perfectly well what you were talking about in the mine, because I never believed that this communication with my angel could happen.

That made Paulo feel pleased. And together they contemplated afternoon's end. This time,

Valhalla had not appeared for their walk in the desert.

The glistening stones they had seen that afternoon were no longer apparent. The moon cast a strange, phantasmagorical light into the ravine. They could hear their own footsteps in the sand,

as they walked along in silence, alert to any sound they might hear. They didn't know where the Valkyries were meeting.

They came almost to the end point, where the fissure widened to form a small clearing. No sign of them.

Chris broke the silence. Maybe they decided against it.

She knew that Valhalla was going to prolong the game as long as possible. But Chris wanted it to be over.

The animals are on the prowl. I'm afraid of the snakes, she said. Let's go back.

But Paulo was looking upward.

Look, he said. They haven't decided against it.

Chris followed his gaze. At the top of the rocks that formed the right wall of the ravine, the figure of a woman was looking down at them.

She felt a shiver.

The figure of another woman appeared. And another. Chris went to the middle of the clearing;

she could see three more women on the other side.

Two were missing.

WELCOME TO THE THEATER! VALHALLA'S VOICE ECHOED from the stone walls. The audience is already here, and they await the spectacle!

That was how Valhalla had always begun her plays in the city parks.

But I'm not part of the spectacle, Chris thought. Maybe I should climb up there with them.

Here, the price of admission is paid upon leaving, the voice continued, repeating what was always said in the city squares. It may be a high price, or we might return what is paid. Do you want to take the risk?

Yes, I do, Paulo answered.

What is all this? Chris suddenly shouted. Why such dramatics, why so much ritual, why all of this just to see an angel? Isn't it enough to speak with the angel? Why don't you do as everyone else does: simplify the way we make contact with God and with what is sacred in this world?

There was no response. Paulo felt that Chris was ruining everything.

The Ritual That Demolishes Rituals, said one of the Valkyries from high in the rocks.

Silence! Valhalla shouted. The audience gets to speak only when this is over! Applaud or boobut pay the admission!

Valhalla finally appeared. She wore her kerchief knotted around her forehead, Indian-style. She usually wore it that way when she was saying her prayers at day's end. It was her crown.

She brought with her a barefoot girl, wearing Bermudas and blouse. When they had come closer, and the moonlight illuminated their faces, Chris saw that it was one of the Valkyriesthe youngest of the group. Without her leather outfit and her aggressive air, she seemed only a child.

Valhalla placed her in front of Paulo, and traced a large square around them. At each of its corners, she stopped and spoke a few words. Paulo and Rotha repeated the words in Latinthe young woman made several errors, and had to begin again.

She doesn't even know what she's saying, Chris thought. Neither the square nor the words were a part of what usually happened at the performances in the city.

When Valhalla had completed the inscription of the square, she asked that the two approach her. They remained within the square, while she stood outside.

Valhalla turned to Paulo, looked deep into his eyes, and handed him the long leather belt she usually wore around her waist.

Warrior, you are imprisoned within your destiny by the power of these lines and of these sacred names. Warrior, victorious in battle, you are now in your castle, and you will receive your reward.

In his mind, Paulo created the walls of the castle. From that moment on, the ravine, the Valkyries, Chris, Valhalla, and everything else ceased to be of importance.

He was an actor in the sacred theater. The Ritual That Demolishes Rituals.

Prisoner, Valhalla said to the girl, your defeat has been humiliating. You were unable to defend your army with honor. The Valkyries will come down from heaven to recover your body when you are dead. But until then, you will receive the punishment that the loser deserves.

With an abrupt gesture, she tore open the girl's blouse.

Let the spectacle begin! This, oh warrior, is your trophy!

He seized the girl violently. She fell awkwardly, cutting her chin, and it bled.

Paulo knelt at her side. In his hand, he clutched Valhalla's belt, and it seemed to have an energy of its own. It frightened him, and for a few moments he left the imaginary walls of the castle and returned to the ravine.

She's really hurt, Paulo said. She needs some help.

Warrior, that is your trophy! Valhalla repeated, stepping away. The woman who knows the secret you are after. Extract that secret from her, or give it up forever.

Not for ourselves, Lord, not for ourselves, but for the glory of your name, he said in a low voice, repeating the motto of the Templars. He had to make a quick decision. He recalled the time when he believed in nothing, thinking all of this was simply dramaticsbut even then,

things were transformed, and the truth emerged.

He was faced with the Ritual That Demolishes Rituals. A sacred moment in the life of a magus.

Sed nomini Tuo de Gloriam, he said again. And in the moment that followed, he dressed himself in the role suggested by Valhalla. The Ritual That Demolishes Rituals began to unfold.

Nothing else was importantonly that unknown path, that frightened woman at his feet, and a secret that had to be won from her. He strode around his victim, and thought of those times when morality was differentwhen taking possession of a woman was a rule of combat. Men had risked their lives in war for gold and women.

I won! he screamed at the girl. And you lost!

He knelt and seized her by the hair. Her eyes stared into his.

It is we who will win, the girl said.

He threw her violently to the ground again.

The rule of victory is to win.

All of you think you won, the prisoner continued. You won only a battle. It is we who will win the war.

Who was this woman who dared to speak to him this way? She had a lovely bodybut that could wait. He had to learn the secret he had sought for so long.

Teach me how to see my angel, he said, trying to keep his voice calm. Then you will be set free.

I am free.

No. You don't know the rules of victory, he said. That's why we defeated all of you.

The woman seemed to become confused. Tell me about those rules, she said. And I will tell you the secret about your angel.

The prisoner was making a trade. He could torture her, destroy her. There she was, fallen at his feetyet she was proposing a trade. Perhaps she wouldn't confess under torture. Better to make the trade. He would tell her about the five rules of victory, since she was never going to leave there alive.

The morality rule: You have to fight on the side that is in the right, and that's why we won.

The weather rule: A war in the rain is different from a war in the sun; a battle in the winter is different from a battle in the summer.

He could fool her now. But he wasn't able to invent false rules on the spot. The woman would notice his hesitancy.

The space rule, he continued. A war in a ravine is different from a war in the field. The choice rule: The warrior knows how to choose who should give advice, and who will remain at his side in combat. A chieftain cannot be surrounded by cowards or traitors.

He thought for a moment about whether he should continue. But he had already told her four of the rules.

The strategy rule, he said finally. The way in which the battle is planned.

That was all of it. The girl's eyes gleamed.

Now tell me about the angels.

She looked at him, saying nothing. She had learned the formula, even though it was too late.

Those valiant warriors never lost a battleand legend had it that they used five rules of victory.

Now she knew what they were.

She knew it would do her no good, but at least she could die in peace. She deserved the punishment she was to receive.

Tell me about the angels, the warrior said again.

No! I won't tell you about the angels.

The warrior's eyes changed, and she was delighted. He would show no mercy. The only thing that frightened her was that the warrior might be governed by the rule of morality, and spare her life. She wasn't deserving of that. She was guiltydozens, hundreds of sins accumulated during her short life. She had disappointed her parents, disappointed men who had grown close to her.

Deceived the warriors who had fought at her side. She had allowed herself to be taken prisonershe was weak. She deserved to be punished.

Hatred! they heard a distant woman's voice say. The secret of the ritual is hatred!

We made a trade, the warrior repeated, and now his voice was as cold as steel. I lived up to my side.

You are not going to let me leave alive, she said. But at least I got what I wanted. Even though it's of no use to me.

Hatred! The voice of the woman was beginning to have an effect on him. He was allowing his worst feelings to surface. Hatred was permeating the warrior's heart.

You are going to suffer. he said. The worst tortures anyone has ever experienced.

I will suffer.

I deserve this, she thought. She deserved the pain and the punishment. She deserved death.

Ever since she was a child, she had refused to fightshe didn't believe that she was capable of it.

She accepted everything from others, suffered in silence the injustices to which she fell victim.

She wanted everyone to see that she was a good girl. That she was sensitive in her heart, and able to help everyone. She wanted to be liked at any cost. God had given her a good life, and she had not been able to make use of it. Instead, she begged that others love her, lived her life as others wanted her to, all in order to show that she was kindhearted and able to please everyone.

She had been unfair to God, had thrown her life away. Now she needed an executioner who would dispatch her quickly to hell.

The warrior felt the belt becoming alive in his hand. For a moment, his eyes met those of his prisoner.

He was waiting for her to change her mind, beg his forgiveness. Instead, the prisoner winced as she awaited the blow.

Suddenly, everything disappeared except his rage at having been tricked by his prisoner. The hatred came in waves, and he was beginning to see how capable he was of cruelty. He had always been wrong, he had always allowed his heart to give in at the very moment when he should have meted out justice. He had always forgivennot because he was a good person, but because he was a coward. He was afraid that he couldn't see such things through to the end.

Valhalla looked at Chris, and Chris returned her stare. The moonlight prevented each from seeing clearly into the eyes of the other. And that was a good thing, because each was afraid to reveal what she was feeling.

For God's sake! the prisoner screamed again, before the blow was delivered.

The warrior halted his stroke in midair.

But the enemy had arrived.

Enough, said Valhalla. That's enough.

Paulo's eyes were glazed. He grabbed Valhalla by the shoulders.

I feel this hatred! he shouted. I'm not making it up! I've let some demons loose that I wasn't even aware of!

Valhalla took the belt from his hand, and went to see whether Rotha was injured.

She was crying, her head between her knees.

It was all true, she said, embracing Valhalla. I provoked him, and I used him as my instrument of punishment. I wanted him to destroy me, to put me to death. My parents blamed me, my brothers and sisters blamed me. All I've ever done in life was wrong.

Go and put on another blouse, said Valhalla.

Rotha stood up, trying to arrange her torn clothing.

I want to stay this way, she said.

Valhalla hesitated for a moment, but said nothing. She walked to the wall of the canyon and began to climb. At the top, she was surrounded by three Valkyries, and she gave a signal that the others climb up, as well.

Chris, Rotha, and Paulo climbed the wall in silence. The moonlight showed them the way; with the many handholds in the rocks, it was not a difficult ascent. At the top, they could look out at a vast plain riven by arroyos.

Valhalla told Paulo and the girl to come together again, face to face, embracing.

Did I hurt you? Paulo asked. He was horrified with himself.

Rotha shook her head. She was ashamedshe would never succeed at becoming a woman like those who surrounded her. She was too weak.

Valhalla knotted together the kerchiefs of two of the Valkyries. She slipped them through the belt loops of the man and woman, binding them to each other. From where she stood, Chris could see that the moon formed a halo around the couple. It would have been a beautiful sceneif it were not for all that had happened. If that man and woman were not so distant from each otheror so close.

I am unworthy of seeing my angel, Rotha said to Valhalla. I am weak, and my heart is filled with shame.

I am unworthy of seeing my angel, Paulo said, so that all could hear. I have hatred in my heart.

I have loved many, Rotha said. But spurned true love.

I have nourished hatred for years, and avenged myself over things that were unimportant,

Paulo continued. I was always forgiven by my friends, but never learned how to forgive them in return.

Valhalla turned to face the moon.

We are here, archangel. The Lord's will be done. Our inheritance is hatred and fear, humiliation and shame. The Lord's will be done.

Why was it not enough simply to close the gates to Paradise? Did you also have to cause us to carry hell in our hearts? But, if that is the will of the Lord, you must know that all of humanity has been doing his will for generations and generations.

Then Valhalla began to stride in circles around the couple, chanting.

THIS IS THE PREFACE, THE SALUTATION.

Praised be Our Lord Jesus Christ, forever may he be praised.

Guilty warriors are speaking to You.

Those who have always used the best weapons they haveagainst themselves.

Those who deem themselves unworthy of blessings. Those who believe that happiness is not for them. Those who suffer more greatly than others do.

Those who arrived at the gates of freedom, gazed at paradise, and said to themselves: 'We should not enter. We are not deserving.' They are speaking to You.

Those who one day experienced the judgment of others, and concluded that most of them were right. They are speaking to You.

Those who judge and condemn themselves. They are speaking to You.

ONE OF THE VALKYRIES HANDED THE BELT TO VALHALLA, and she raised it toward heaven.

This is the first element: Air.

Here is the belt. If we are that way, punish us.

Punish us because we are different. Because we have dared to dream, and to believe in those things no one else any longer believes in.

Punish us because we challenged what exists, what everyone else accepts, what most others want to remain unchanged.

Punish us because we speak of faith, and we feel hopeless. We speak of love, but we receive neither the affection nor the comfort we feel we deserve. We speak of freedom, and we are prisoners to our own guilt.

Lord, even were I to raise this belt high, high enough to touch the stars, I would not touch your hand.

Because your hand covers our heads. And it caresses us, and you say to us: 'Suffer no more. I have already suffered enough.'

You say to us: 'Like you, I dreamed, and I believed in a new world. I spoke of love, and at the same time, asked our Father to end my ordeal. I challenged what was. What the majority cared not to change. I thought I was wrong when I performed my first miracle: changing water to wine, simply to enliven a party. I felt the hard stare of others, and I shouted, Father, Father,

why have you forsaken me?'

'They have already used the belt on me. You need suffer no more.'

VALHALLA THREW THE BELT TO THE GROUND, AND scattered sand to the wind.

This is the second element: Earth.

We are a part of this world, Lord. And this world is filled with our fears.

We will write our sins in the sand, and it will be the desert wind's task to scatter them.

Keep our hands strong, keep us from ceasing to struggle, even though we judge ourselves unworthy of going into battle.

Make use of our lives, nourish our dreams. If we are made of the Earth, the Earth is also made of us. Everything is only one thing.

Teach us and use us. We are forever yours.

The Law was reduced to one commandment: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'

If we love, the world changes. The light of love scatters the darkness of guilt.

Keep us strong in love. Make us accept for ourselves the love of God.

Show us our love for ourselves.

Require us to seek out the love of others. Even with fear of rejection, of severe glances, of the hardness of heart of somedo not permit us ever to give up our quest for love.

ONE OF THE VALKYRIES HELD OUT A TORCH TO VALHALLA. She lit it, and held up the blazing torch to heaven This is the third element: Fire.

You say, Lord: 'I came to set fire to the Earth. And I am watchful that the fire grow.'

May the fire of love grow in our hearts.

May the fire of transformation glow in our movements.

May the fire of purification burn away our sins.

May the fire of justice guide our steps.

May the fire of wisdom illuminate our path.

May the fire that spreads over the Earth never be extinguished. It has returned, and we carry it within us.

Prior generations passed on their sins to succeeding ones. Thus has it been, down to our fathers.

Now, though, we will pass forward the torch of your fire.

We are warriors of the light, this light that we carry with pride.

The fire that, when kindled for the first time, showed us our faults and our sins. We were surprised and frightened, and we felt ourselves to be incapable.

But it was the fire of love. And it consumed what was bad in us when we accepted it.

It showed us that we are neither better nor worse than those who frowned at us.

And for this we accept forgiveness. There is no more guilt, and we can return to paradise. And we will bring with us the fire that will burn on earth.

VALHALLA INSERTED THE TORCH INTO A CREVICE IN THE rocks. Then she opened her canteen and spilled a few drops of water on Paulo's and Rotha's heads.

This is the fourth element: Water.

You said: 'Whoever drinks of this water will never thirst.'

Well then, we are drinking this water. We wash away our sins, for love of the transformation that is going to shake the Earth.

We will hear what the angels say, we will be messengers of their words.

We will do battle with the best weapons and the speediest of horses.

The gates are open. We are worthy to enter.

LORD JESUS CHRIST, WHO SAID TO HIS APOSTLES, 'MY peace I leave you, my peace I give you,' do not look at our sins, but at the faith that animates your assembly.

Chris knew that passage. It was similar to one used in the Catholic service.

Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have pity on us, Valhalla concluded,

untying the kerchiefs that joined Paulo and Rotha.

You are free.

Then Valhalla approached Paulo.

The sting, thought Chris. Now comes the serpent's sting. It's the payment. She's in love. If the Valkyrie tells him what the price is, he will pay with pleasure. And I won't be able to say a thingbecause I'm just an ordinary woman, and I know nothing about the laws in the world of angels. None of them knows that I have already died many times here in the desert, and been reborn so many times, as well. They don't know that I have been speaking to my angel, and that my soul has grown. They're used to me, and they know how I think. I love him. She is only enamored.

Now, it's you and me, Valkyrie! The Ritual That Demolishes Rituals!

Chris's scream echoed out over the sinister desert, bathed in the light of the moon.

Valhalla was expecting the scream. She had already dealt with guilt, and knew that what she wanted was no crime. Only a caprice. She was entitled to cultivate her capricesher angel had taught her that such things took no one away from God, or from the sacred task each person had to perform in their life.

She remembered the first time she had seen Chris, at the luncheonette. A shiver had coursed through her body, and strange intuitionsintuitions she was unable to understandhad taken hold of her. The same thing must have happened to her, she thought.

Paulo? She had completed her mission with him. And, although he didn't know it, the price she had charged was highas they had traveled through the desert, she had learned many rituals that J. used only with his disciples. He had told her everything.

She also desired him as a man. Not for what he was, but for what he knew. A caprice, and her angel forgave capriciousness.

She looked again at Chris, and thought, This is my tenth round. I too need to change. This woman is an instrument of the angels.

Never taking her eyes from Chris, the Valkyrie said, The Ritual That Demolishes Rituals. May God tell us what our characters should be!

She had accepted the challenge. Her moment for growth had arrived.

The two women began to walk around the circumference of an imaginary circle, like cowboys of lessons of love. She knew the five rules of victory, and had slept with every man she desired, but the old West before a gunfight. Not a sound could be heardit was as if time had stopped.

The other Valkyries understood what was happening because they were all women, accustomed to fighting for love. And they would do so through to the ultimate consequences, using every trick and artifice. They would do so for love, the justification for their lives and their dreams.

Chris's character began to emerge. She donned the leather outfit, and tied the kerchief around her head. Between her breasts shone the medallion of the archangel Michael. She had dressed herself as a strong character, as the woman she admired and would like to be: She was Valhalla.

Chris gestured with her head, and the two stood still. Valhalla felt as though she were standing before a mirror.

Looking at Chris, she could see herself. She knew the arts of war by heart, but had forgotten the she had forgotten the art of love.

She regarded herself as reflected by this other person; she had enough power to defeat her. But her own character was emerging, taking form, and this character, although it was also possessed of sufficient power, was not used to this type of battle.

She had transformed herself into a woman in love, who marched with her man, carrying his sword when necessary, and protecting him from all danger. She was a strong woman, although she appeared to be a weak one. She was a person who walked the path of love, regarding it as the only possible road to wisdom. A path where mysteries were revealed through surrender and forgiveness. She was seeing it with such clarity!

Valhalla had assumed the character of Chris.

And Chris saw herself, reflected in the other.

Chris began to walk slowly toward the precipice. Valhalla did the same, and both approached the abyss. A fall from there would be fatal. But they were women who would recognize no limits. Chris stopped at the very edge, allowing time for Valhalla to do so, as well.

The floor of the desert was thirty feet below, and the moon was thousands of miles above.

Between the moon and the desert floor, two women confronted each other.

He is my man. Don't covet him merely out of capriciousness. You don't love him, Chris said.

Valhalla didn't respond.

I'm going to take one more step, Chris continued. I'll survive. I'm a courageous woman.

I'll do it with you, answered Valhalla.

Don't. You know about love now. It's a huge world, and you will have to spend the rest of your life trying to understand it.

I will step back if you will. You know about your strength now. Your horizon now extends to mountains, valleys, and deserts. Your soul has grown large, and will continue to grow. You've discovered your courage, and that's enough.

Enough, if what I taught you is sufficient to pay the price you were going to charge me.

A long silence. Then the Valkyrie walked over to Chris.

And kissed her.

I accept that as the price, she said. Thank you for what you have taught me.

Chris removed the watch from her wrist. It was all she had to offer.

Thank you for what you taught me, too, she said. Now I know about my strength. I would never have learned about it, though, unless I had come to know a strange, beautiful, powerful woman.

With great tenderness, she placed the watch on Valhalla's wrist.

THE SUN SHONE DOWN ON DEATH VALLEY. THE Valkyries tied their kerchiefs around their faces, leaving only their eyes exposed.

Valhalla approached the couple. You cannot go with us. You have to talk to your angel.

There's one thing left, Paulo said. The bet.

Bets and pacts are made with the angels. Or with the devils.

I still don't know how to see my angel, he answered.

You have already broken a pact. You have already accepted forgiveness. The bet you must make with your angel.

The other women's motorcycles roared. She placed the kerchief across her face, mounted her bike, and turned to Chris.

I will always be a part of you, Chris said. And you will always be a part of me.

Valhalla removed a glove and threw it to Chris. Then she revved her engine and the cycles sped away, leaving behind a gigantic cloud of dust.

A MAN AND A WOMAN WERE TRAVELING ACROSS THE desert. On some days, they stopped at cities with thousands of inhabitants, and on others, in towns with just one motel, a restaurant,

and a gas station. They kept to themselvesand each afternoon they walked out through the rocks and the sand, feeling as if they had returned to the place where the first star was about to be born. And there, they talked with their angels.

They heard voices, gave advice to one another, and remembered things that seemed to have been completely forgotten sometime in the past.

She had completed her communication with the protection and wisdom of her angel, and was now gazing at the desert sunset.

He sat there, waiting. He wanted his angel to descend and appear in blazing glory. He had done everything right, and now he had simply to wait.

He waited one, two, three hours. He rose only when night had completely fallen; he found his wife, and they returned to the city.

They had dinner, and returned to the hotel. She went to bed and pretended to sleep, while he stared into space.

She got out of bed in the middle of the night, and went to where he sat, asking him to come to bed. She said that she was afraid of sleeping alone because of a bad dream. He lay down beside her, quietly.

You are already communicating with your angel, he had grown used to saying at such times.

I've heard you speaking when you are channeling. You say things you would never say in ordinary life. Wise things. Your angel is here.

He caressed her, but continued to lie there in silence. She asked herself if his sadness was really because of the angel, or perhaps had to do with some lost love.

This question remained locked inside.

Paulo was thinking about the woman who had left, but that wasn't what made him disconsolate.

Time was passing, and soon he would have to return to his own country. He would meet again with the man who had taught him that angels exist.

That man, Paulo imagined, will tell me that I did enough. That I broke a pact that needed to be broken, that I accepted forgiveness that I should have accepted long ago. Yes, that man will continue to teach me about the path to wisdom and love, and I will get closer and closer to my angel. I'll speak with my angel every day, giving thanks for protection and asking for help. And that man will tell me that it is sufficient.

Yes, because J. had taught him from the beginning that there are frontiers. That it was necessary to go as far as possiblebut that there were certain times when one had to accept the mystery,

and understand that each person had his own gift. Some knew how to cure, others possessed words of wisdom, while others conversed with spirits. It was through the sum of such gifts that God could demonstrate his glory, using humankind as his instrument. The gates to paradise would be open to those who had resolved that they would pass through them. The world was in the hands of those who had the courage to dreamand to realize their dreams.

Each to their own talent. Each to their own gift.

But none of that consoled Paulo. He knew that Gene had seen his angel. That Valhalla had seen her angel. That many others had written books and stories and reports telling of their meetings with their angels.

And he had not been able to see his own.

IN SIX MORE DAYS, THEY WOULD HAVE TO LEAVE THE desert. They stopped in a small city called Ajo, where most of the inhabitants were elderly. It was a place that had known its moments of glorywhen the mine there had brought jobs, prosperity, and hope to the inhabitants. But, for some reasonunknown to any of themthe company had sold its houses to the employees and closed the mine.

Paulo and Chris sat in a restaurant, drinking coffee and waiting for the cool evening to arrive.

An old woman asked if she could sit with them.

All of our children have gone away, she told them. No one is left except the old-timers.

Some day, the entire city will disappear, and all our work, everything we built, will no longer mean a thing.

It had been a long time since anyone had even passed through the place. The old woman was happy to have someone to talk to.

People come here, build, and hope that what they are doing is important, she continued. But overnight, they find that they are demanding more of the Earth than it has to give. So, they abandon everything and move on, without thinking about the fact that they have involved others in their dreamothers who, weaker than they, have to stay behind. Like with the ghost towns out there in the desert.

Maybe that's what's happening to me, Paulo thought. I brought myself here, and I've abandoned myself.

He recalled that once an animal trainer had told him how he was able to keep his elephants under control. The animals, as infants, were bound by chains to a log. They would try to escape,

but could not. They tried throughout their entire infancy, but the log was stronger than they were.

So they became accustomed to captivity. And when they were huge and strong, all the trainer had to do was place the chain around one of their legs and anchor it anywhereeven to a twigand they would not attempt to escape. They were prisoners of their past.

The long hours of daylight seemed to have no end. The sky caught fire, the Earth baked, and they had to wait, wait, waituntil the color of the desert changed again to softer tones of pink.

That was when he could leave the city, try his channeling, and once again await the appearance of his angel.

Someone once said that the earth produces enough to satisfy needs, but not enough to satisfy greed, the old woman continued.

Do you believe in angels? Paulo asked her.

The woman was astonished at the question. But that was all that Paulo wanted to talk about.

When you're old, and death isn't too far off, you begin to believe in anything, she said. But I don't know if I believe in angels.

They exist.

Have you ever seen one? There was a mixture of incredulity and hope in her eyes.

I talk with my guardian angel.

Does your angel have wings?

It was the question everyone asked. Yet he had forgotten to ask it of Valhalla.

I don't know. I haven't seen my angel yet.

The woman considered whether she should get up and leave. The solitude of the desert made some people strange. But maybe this man was joking with her, just passing the time.

She wanted to ask where the couple came from, and what they were doing in a place like Ajo.

She hadn't been able to identify their strange accent.

Maybe they're from Mexico, she thought. But they didn't look like Mexicans. She would ask when the opportunity arose.

I don't know if you two are fooling around with me, she said, but, as I said, I'm getting close to death. I suppose I could last another five or ten years. Maybe even twenty. But at my age, you certainly realize you're going to die.

I know that I'm going to die, too, Chris said.

No, not like an old person does. For you, it's a remote idea. It might happen some day. For us,

it's something that could happen tomorrow. That's why many elderly people spend the time remaining to them looking only in one direction: the past. It's not that they're so fond of their memories, but they know that looking in that direction they won't see anything to be feared.

Very few old people look to the future, and I'm one of them. When we look into the future, we see what it holds for us: death.

Paulo didn't say anything. You can't say anything new about awareness of death to those who practice magic, but he knew the woman would leave the table if she knew that he was a magus.

That's why I'd like to believe that you both are serious. That angels really exist.

Death is an angel, Paulo said. I have seen it twice in this incarnation, but very briefly. There wasn't enough time to see its face. But I know people who have seen, and I know others that were oppressed by Death, and later told me about it. They said that Death has a handsome face,

and a gentle touch.

The old woman stared at Paulo. She wanted to believe him.

Does Death have wings?

This angel is made of light, he answered. When the moment comes, Death assumes the form that is easiest for you to deal with.

The old woman thought about that. Then she stood up.

I'm not afraid anymore. I have prayed, and asked that the angel of death have wings when it comes to me. My heart tells me that my wish will be granted.

She kissed them both. It was no longer important to her where they came from.

It was my angel that sent you both. Thank you so much.

Paulo remembered Gene. He too had been an angel's instrument. Thinking of Gene, Paulo realized that he and Chris had also served as the instruments of an angel.

AT SUNSET, THEY WENT TO A MOUNTAIN NOT FAR FROM AJO. They sat facing the east,

waiting for the first star to appear. When that occurred, they would initiate their channeling activity.

They called this process Contemplation of the Angel. It was the first ceremony they had created after the Ritual That Demolishes Rituals had swept the others away.

I never asked, Chris said as they waited. Why it is that you want to see your angel?

Well, you've already explained to me a number of times that it didn't matter at all to you.

His voice had a sarcastic tone. She pretended not to notice.

Okay. But it's important for you. Can you tell me why?

I've already explained that. The day of our meeting with Valhalla.

You don't need a miracle, she insisted. You're just being capricious.

There's nothing capricious in the spiritual world. Either you accept it, or you don't.

So? Haven't you accepted this, your world? Or was everything you said a lie?

She must be thinking of that story in the mine, Paulo thought. It was a difficult question to answer, but he was bound to try.

I've already witnessed a number of miracles, he began. Many miracles. You and I have even witnessed some together. We watched J. create openings in the clouds, fill the darkness with light, move objects from one place to another.

You've seen me read people's minds, cause the wind to blow, perform rituals involving power.

I've seen magic function many times in my lifeboth for evil and for good. I have no doubts about it.

He paused. But we have also become used to miracles. And we always want to see others.

Faith is a difficult conquest, and it requires daily combat in order to be maintained.

It was time for the star to appear, and he had to end his explanation. But Chris interrupted.

It's been that way with our marriage, too, she said. And I'm exhausted.

I don't understand. I'm speaking about the spiritual world.

The only reason I'm able to understand what you're saying is because I know your love, she said. We've been together for a long time. But after the first two years of joy and passion, every day began to be a challenge for me. It's been very difficult to keep the flames of our love alive.

She regretted having brought up the subjectbut now she was going to see it through.

Once you told me that the world was divided into the farmers, who love the Earth and the harvest, and the hunters, who love the dark forests and conquest. You said I was a farmer, like J. That I walked the path of wisdom, achieved through contemplation. And you said I was married to a hunter.

Her thoughts were pushing their way out, and she couldn't stop herself. She was afraid the star might appear before she had finished.

And I am married to a hunter. I know that, and its been very difficult being married to you!

You're like Valhalla, like the Valkyries. They never rest. They deal only in the strong emotions of the hunt, of taking risks. Of the darkness of night and the taking of prisoners. At the beginning, I didn't think I'd be able to live with that. I, who was looking for a life like everybody else's, married to a magus! A magus whose world is governed by laws I don't even knowa person who feels he is alive only when he is facing challenges.

She looked into his eyes.

Isn't J. a much more powerful magus than you are?

Much wiser, Paulo answered. Much more experienced. He follows the path of the farmer,

and it is on that path that he finds his power. I'll be able to achieve my power only by following the path of the hunter.

Well then, why did he accept you as a disciple?

Paulo laughed. For the same reason that you chose me as a husband. Because we're different from one another.

Valhalla, you, and all your friends think only in terms of the Conspiracy. Nothing else is importantyou're all fixated on this business of changes, of a new world to come. I believe in that new world, toobut, God, does it have to be this way?

What way?

She thought for a minute. She didn't know exactly what he was getting at. This way that always involves conspiracies.

That's your word for it.

But I know it's true. And you confirmed it.

I said that the gates of paradise are open, for a certain time, to all who desire to enter. But I also said that each person has his or her own pathand only one's angel can say which is the correct one.

Why am I acting this way? What's going on with me? she thought. She remembered the engravings she had seen as a child, of angels leading children to the edge of an abyss. She was surprised at what she had been saying here. She had fought many times with him, but she had never spoken about magic in the way that she was now.

Yet her soul had grown during these forty days in the desert, she had learned about her second mind, she had crossed swords with a powerful woman. She had died many times, and was stronger each time she was reborn.

The hunt actually gave me great pleasure, she thought.

Yes. That's what was driving her crazy. Because, since the day she had challenged Valhalla to the duel, she had had the feeling that she had wasted her entire previous life.

No, she thought. I can't accept that. I know J. He is a farmer-type, and an enlightened person. I spoke with my angel before Paulo did. I know how to speak to my angel as well as Valhalla doeseven though the language is still a bit strange.

But she was apprehensive. Perhaps she had been wrong in choosing how she wanted to live her life. I've got to keep talking, she thought. I have to convince myself that I didn't make the wrong choice.

You need yet another miracle, she said. And you will always need yet another. You will never be satisfied, and you will never understand that the kingdom of heaven cannot be conquered by force.

God, make his angel appear, because it's so important to him! Make me be wrong, Lord.

You're not even giving me a chance to talk, he said.

But at that moment, the first star appeared on the horizon.

It was time for channeling.

THEY SAT DOWN, AND, AFTER A BRIEF PERIOD OF RELAXING, began to concentrate on the second mind. Chris couldn't stop thinking about Paulo's last commentshe really hadn't permitted him to talk.