The Valkyries

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 the old West before a gunfight. Not a sound could be heard—it 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 forgottenthe lessons of love. She knew the five rules of victory, and had slept with every man she desired, but 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.

Chapter 46
     
    T HE SUN SHONE DOWN ON D EATH 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