Brida kissed him. She felt the taste of his mouth, the touch of his tongue. She was aware of every movement and sensed that he was feeling exactly the same, because the Tradition of the Sun always reveals itself to those who look at the world as if they were seeing it for the first time.
"I want to make love with you right here, Lorens."
Various thoughts flashed through his mind: they were on a public footpath, someone might come by, some other person crazy enough to visit this place in the middle of winter. But anyone crazy enough to do so would also be able to understand that certain forces, once set in motion, cannot be interrupted.
He slipped his hands under her sweater and stroked her breasts. Brida surrendered herself entirely. The forces of the world were penetrating her five senses and these were becoming transformed into an overwhelming energy. They lay down on t
he ground among the rock, the precipice, and the sea, between the life of the seagulls flying up above and the death of the stones beneath. And they began, fearlessly, to make love, because God protects the innocent.
They no longer felt the cold. Their blood was flowing so fast in their veins that she tore off some of her clothes and so did he. There was no more pain; knees and back were pressed into the stony ground, but that became part of their pleasure, completing it. Brida knew that she was close to orgasm, but it was still a very remote feeling, because she was entirely connected to the world: her body and Lorens's body mingled with the sea and the stones, with life and death. She remained in that state for as long as possible, while some part of her was vaguely conscious that she was doing things she had never done before. What she was feeling, though, was the bringing together once more of herself and the meaning of life; it was a return to the garden of Eden; it was the moment when Eve was reabsorbed into Adam's body and the two halves became Creation.
At last, she could no longer control the world around her, her five senses seemed to break free, and she wasn't strong enough to hold on to them. As if struck by a sacred bolt of lightning, she unleashed them, and the world, the seagulls, the taste of salt, the hard earth, the smell of the sea, the clouds, all disappeared, and in their place appeared a vast golden light, which grew and grew until it touched the most distant star in the galaxy.
She gradually came down from that state, and the sea and the clouds reappeared, but everything was filled by a sense of profound peace, the peace of a universe that became, if only for a matter of moments, explicable, because she was in communion with the world. She had discovered another bridge that joined the visible to the invisible, and she would never again forget the path that led to it.
The following day, she phoned Wicca and told her what had happened. For a while, Wicca said nothing.
"Congratulations," she said at last. "You've made it."
She explained that, from then on, the power of sex would bring about profound changes in the way Brida saw and experienced the world.
"You're ready now for the celebration of the Equinox. There's just one more thing."
"One more thing? But you said that was it!'
"It's quite easy. You simply have to dream of a dress, the dress you will wear on the day."
"And what if I can't."
"You will. You've done the most difficult part."
And then, as so often, she changed the subject. She told Brida that she'd bought a new car and needed to do some shopping. Would Brida like to go with her?
Brida was proud to be invited and asked her boss if she could leave work early. It was the first time Wicca had shown her any kind of affection, even if it was only an invitation to join her on a shopping trip. She knew that many of Wicca's other students would love to be in her shoes.
Perhaps that afternoon would provide her with a chance to show Wicca how important she was to her and how much she wanted to be her friend. It was difficult for Brida to separate friendship from the spiritual search, and she was hurt because, up until then, her teacher had never shown the slightest interest in her private life. Their conversations never went beyond what Brida needed to know in order to work within the Tradition of the Moon.
At the appointed hour, Wicca was waiting outside in a red MG convertible, with the top down. The car, a British classic, was exceptionally well preserved, with gleaming bodywork and a polished wooden dashboard. Brida didn't even dare hazard a guess at how much it must have cost. The idea that a witch should own such an expensive car frightened her a little. Before she'd known anything about the Tradition of the Moon, she'd heard all kinds of tales in her childhood about witches making terrible pacts with the Devil in exchange for money and power.
"Isn't it a bit cold to drive with the top down?" she asked as she got in.
"I can't wait until summer," Wicca said, "I just can't. I've been aching to go for a drive like this for ages."
That was good. At least, in this respect, she was like any other normal person.
They drove through the streets, receiving admiring glances from older passers-by and a few wolf whistles and compliments from men.
"It's a good sign that you're worried about not being able to dream about the dress," said Wicca. Brida, however, had already forgotten about their phone conversation.
"Never stop having doubts. If you ever do, it will be because you've stopped moving forward, and at that point, God will step in and pull the rug out from under your feet, because that is His way of controlling His chosen ones, by making sure they always follow their appointed path to the end. If, for any reason, we stop, whether out of complacency, laziness, or out of a mistaken belief that we know enough, He forces us on.
"On the other hand, you must be careful never to allow doubt to paralyze you. Always take the decisions you need to take, even if you're not sure you're doing the right thing. You'll never go wrong if, when you make a decision, you keep in mind an old German proverb that the Tradition of the Moon has adopted: 'The Devil is in the detail.' Remember that proverb and you'll always be able to turn a wrong decision into a right one."
Wicca suddenly stopped outside a garage.
"There's a superstition connected to that proverb, too," she said. "It only comes to our aid when we need it. I've just bought this car, and the Devil is in the detail."
She got out as soon as a mechanic came over to her.