of it to one another. She was used to going with him to certain places, and had once even carried his sword for purposes of a ceremony. She knew the Road to Santiago, and had—because of their relationship—learned quite a bit about sexual magic. But that was all. J. had never proposed that he teach her anything.
“What should I do?” she asked Paulo.
“Whatever you think,” he answered.
I love you, she thought. If she were to learn something about his world, there was no doubt it would bring them even closer. She went back to her chair, sat down, and closed her eyes.
“What are you thinking about?” Gene asked her.
“About what you two were discussing. About Paulo traveling by himself. About the second mind. Whether his angel has wings. And why this should interest me at all. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to angels.”
“No, no. I want to know whether you’re thinking about something else. Something beyond your control.”
She felt his hands touching both sides of her head.
“Relax. Relax.” His voice was gentle. “What are you thinking?”
There were sounds. And voices. It was only now that she realized what she was thinking, although it had been there for almost an entire day.
“A melody,” she answered. “I’ve been singing this melody to myself ever since I heard it yesterday on the radio on our way here.”
It was true, she had been humming the melody incessantly. To the end, and then once again, and then from start to finish again. She couldn’t get it out of her mind.
Gene asked that she open her eyes.
“That’s the second mind,” he said. “It’s your second mind that’s humming the song. It can do that with anything. If you’re in love with someone, you can have that person inside your head. The same thing happens with someone you want to forget about. But the second mind is a tough thing to deal with. It’s at work regardless of whether you want it to be or not.”
He laughed.
“A song! We’re always impassioned about something. And it’s not always a song. Have you ever had someone you loved stick in your mind? It’s really terrible when that happens. You travel, you try to forget, but your second mind keeps saying: ‘Oh, he would really love that!’ ‘Oh, if only he were here.’”
Chris was astonished. She had never thought of such a thing as a second mind.
She had two minds. Functioning at the same time.
GENE CAME TO HER SIDE. “Close your eyes again,” he said. “And try to remember the horizon you were looking at.”
She tried to recall it. “I can’t,” she said, her eyes still closed. “I wasn’t looking at the horizon. I know that it’s all around me, but I wasn’t looking at it.”
“Open your eyes and look at it.”
Chris looked out at the horizon. She saw mountains, rocks, stones, and sparse and spindly vegetation. A sun that shone brighter and brighter seemed to pierce her sunglasses and burn into her eyes.
“You are here,” Gene said, now with a serious tone of voice. “Try to understand that you are here, and that the things that surround you change you—in the same way that you change them.”
Chris stared at the desert.
“In order to penetrate the invisible world and develop your powers, you have to live in the present, the here and now. In order to live in the present, you have to control your second mind. And look at the horizon.”
Gene asked her to concentrate on the melody that she had been humming. It was “When I Fall in Love.” She didn’t know the words, and had been making them up, or just singing a ta-de-dum.
Chris concentrated. In a few moments, the melody disappeared. She was now completely alert, listening only to Gene’s words.
But Gene seemed to have nothing more to say.
“I have to be alone now,” he said. “Come back in two days.”
PAULO AND CHRIS LOCKED THEMSELVES inside their air-conditioned hotel room, unwilling to confront the 110 degrees of the midday desert. No books to read, nothing to do. They tried taking a nap, but couldn’t sleep.
“Let’s explore the desert,” Paulo said.
“It’s too hot out there. Gene said it was even dangerous. Let’s do it tomorrow.”
Paulo didn’t answer. He was certain he could turn the fact that he was locked into his hotel room into a learning experience. He tried to make sense of everything that happened in his life, and used conversation only as means for discharging tension.
But it was impossible; trying to find a meaning in everything meant he had to remain alert and tense. Paulo never relaxed, and Chris had often asked herself when he would tire of his intensity.
“Who is Gene?”
“His father is a powerful magus, and he wants Gene to maintain the family tradition—like engineers who want their children to follow in their footsteps.”
“He’s young, but he wants to act mature,” Chris commented. “And he’s giving up the best years of his life out here in the desert.”
“Everything has its price. If Gene goes through all this—and doesn’t abandon the Tradition—he’ll be the first in a line of young masters to be integrated into a world that the older masters, although they understand it, no longer know how to explain.”
Paulo lay down and started to read the only book available, The Guide to Lodging in the Mojave Desert. He didn’t want to tell his wife that, in addition to what he had already told her, there was another reason that Gene was here: He was powerful in the paranormal processes, and had been prepared by the Tradition to be ready to act when the gates to paradise opened.
Chris wanted to talk. She felt anxious cooped up in the hotel room, and had decided not to “make sense of everything,” as her husband did. She was not there to seek a place within a community of the elite.
“I didn’t really understand what Gene was trying to teach me,” she said. “The solitude and the desert can increase your contact with the invisible world. But I think it causes us to lose contact with other people.”
“He probably has a girlfriend or two around here,” Paulo said, wanting to avoid conversation.
If I have to spend another thirty-nine days locked up with Paulo, I’ll commit suicide, she promised herself.
THAT AFTERNOON, THEY WENT TO A COFFEE shop across the street from the hotel. Paulo chose a table by the window. They ordered ice cream. Chris had spent several hours studying her second mind, and had learned to control it much better than before, but her appetite was never subject to control.
Paulo said, “I want you to pay close attention to the people who pass by.”
She did as Paulo had asked. In the next half hour, only five people passed by.
“What did you see?”
She described the people in detail—their clothing, approximate age, what they