The two were seated in the sand, leaning against some rocks.
"I need affection," she said. "I really need affection."
Paulo shifted his position, and Valhalla laid her head in his lap. They sat there for some time, looking out at the horizon.
It was Paulo who spoke first. He didn't want to raise the subject, but felt he had to.
"I'm going away soon, you know."
He awaited her reaction. She said nothing.
"I have to learn how to see my angel. I feel as if you have been trying to teach me, but that I'm not seeing it."
"No. My teachings are as clear as the desert sun."
Paulo caressed the hair that covered his lap.
"You have a beautiful wife," Valhalla said.
Paulo understood the comment, and took his hands away.
When he had rejoined Chris that night, he told her what Valhalla had said about her. Chris smiled, but said nothing.
THEY CONTINUED TO TRAVEL WITH THE VALKYRIES. Even after Valhalla's comment--about the clarity of her teachings--Paulo continued to pay close attention to everything the Valkyries did. But the routine varied little: travel along, speak in public places, perform the rituals he already knew, and move on.
And make love. They made love to men they met along the way. Usually they were groups on motorcycles, bold enough to approach the Valkyries. When this happened, there was a tacit agreement that Valhalla would have the right to first choice. If she wasn't interested, any of the others could approach the newcomer.
The men never knew this. They were made to feel that they were with the woman they had chosen--but the choice had been made much earlier. By the women.
The Valkyries drank beer and talked of God. They performed sacred rituals, and made love out among the rocks. In the larger cities, they went to some public place to perform their miracle play--getting those who were in the audience to participate.
At the end, they asked for contributions. Valhalla never played a role, but she directed everything that was happening. Afterward, she would pass her kerchief around, and she always received money.
Every afternoon, before Valhalla called Paulo to walk with her in the desert, he and Chris practiced their channeling and talked with their angels. Although the channel was not yet completely opened, they felt the presence of constant protection, of love and peace. They heard phrases that made little sense, they had some intuitions, and many times the only sensation was one of joy--nothing more. But they knew they were speaking to their angels, and that the angels were happy at this.
Yes, the angels were happy, because they had been contacted again. Any person who resolved to speak with them would discover that it was not the first time. They had already conversed with them when they were children--the angels had appeared in the form of "secret friends," and had been their companions in long conversations and in play, protecting them from evil and from danger.
And every child had spoken with their guardian angel--until that day when their parents noticed that the child was talking to people who "didn't exist." Then they became intrigued, blamed it on excessive childish imagination, consulted with educators and psychologists, and came to the conclusion that the child should give up that sort of behavior.
The parents always insisted on telling their children that their secret friends didn't exist--perhaps because they had forgotten that they too had spoken to their angel at one time. Or, who knows, perhaps they thought they lived in a world where there was no longer any place for angels. Disenchanted, the angels had returned to God's side, knowing that they could no longer impose their presence.
But a new world was beginning. The angels knew where the gates to Paradise were, and they would conduct all who believed in them to those gates. Perhaps they needn't even believe--it was enough that they needed angels, and the angels would return gladly.
PAULO SPENT HIS NIGHTS TRYING TO UNDERSTAND WHY Valhalla was doing as she did--putting things off.
Chris knew the answer. And the Valkyries knew the answer, as well--even though none of them said anything about it.
Chris was waiting for the blow to fall. Sooner or later it was going to happen. That's why Valhalla had not left them, had not taught them what else they needed to know about meeting with their angel.
ONE AFTERNOON, IMMENSE MOUNTAIN FORMATIONS BEGAN to appear off to the right side of the road as they drove. Soon, to the left, mountains and canyons could be seen, and a gigantic salt flat, gleaming in the sun, extended from one side to the other.
They had arrived at Death Valley.
The Valkyries made camp close to Furnace Creek--the only place for miles around where there was water. Chris and Paulo decided to stay with the group, because the only hotel for miles was filled.
That night, the entire group sat around the campfire, chatting about men and motorcycles, and--for the first time in many days--angels. As they always did before sleeping, the Valkyries knotted together their kerchiefs, held the long cord that was formed, and once again repeated the psalm that sang of the rivers of Babylon and of the harps hanging in the willow trees. They could never forget that they were warriors.
When the ritual was over, silence fell over the encampment, and everyone made their sleeping arrangements. Except Valhalla.