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"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 life--both 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.
