The Paradise Prophecy

favela) as she and the others passed under that harsh, flickering light.

Then something odd happened.

Gabriela felt a short, abrupt tug, as if she’d been hooked to a wire and yanked forward. For a moment she thought she was still wearing the harness she donned at the top of every show-the one that allowed her to make her entrance by swooping over the audience liked a winged angel as she sang the opening bars of “Paradise City.”

But that made no sense. She had discarded the harness by her second number and had gone through six costume changes since.

Yet she felt the pull of that wire as plainly as she had felt the squeeze of Alejandro’s hand. And without warning, she stumbled forward into sudden darkness-seemed to be drowning in it-only to emerge on the other side to find herself alone. Standing in yet another dim corridor.

Gabriela stopped, whirled. “Alejandro?”

But Alejandro wasn’t there. Neither were any of her bodyguards. One minute she had been surrounded by them, listening to their voices reverberate against the walls-

– and now, nothing.

The corridor was empty. Silent.

What was going on here?

They would do anything for you.

Anything at all.

The thought again. Slipping without warning into her brain. But like the corridor around her, it was different this time. She couldn’t be entirely sure that the thought was her own.

She felt her forehead. Warm.

A fever. She was definitely coming down with a fever. She needed that bed more than ever now.

“Alejandro?” she called again, wondering for a moment if he and the others were hiding somewhere and this was some kind of prank. Retaliation for all the times she’d slipped away on her own.

But, no, Alejandro would never do such a thing. Could never be so cruel. Even after she rejected him, he had continued to stay loyal to her. Always kind. Always loving. Always supportive.

Alejandro was her rock.

He would do anything for you.

Anything at all.

Gabriela stiffened, her gut tightening. She was no stranger to voices inside her head, but they always came to her in moments of prayer-not like this. This one wasn’t friendly. A voice she thought she recognized.

What have you done for him, Gabriela?

And what did you ever do for me?

Sofie. It was Sofie.

Not the young, vibrant Sofie that Gabriela had met in middle school, but the raspy-throated powder monkey who had huddled with her in that dirty, foul-smelling gas station bathroom, sucking in endless hits of Devil Dust.

You left me to die.

Why did you leave me to die?

Sofie was right. Gabriela had left her. Had found her on the floor of that very same bathroom and watched her choke on her own vomit. But instead of helping her, instead of calling an ambulance, Gabriela had followed the rules of the jungle and fled. Had abandoned her best friend, leaving her to die in a puddle of urine.

It had taken Gabriela many months to come to terms with this. To find herself again and beg for the Lord’s forgiveness. For Sofie’s forgiveness. When her career had taken off and money was easy to come by, she had formed a charity in Sofie’s honor. Several charities.

And when God’s heavenly messenger spoke to her and asked her to be one of His soldiers, she had readily agreed. Had sacrificed her future with Alejandro for the honor.

Yet none of this absolved her.

She knew that.

She would live with the guilt of Sofie’s death for the rest of her life. A constant reminder of what she had come from and who she had once been.

Someone laughed, and Gabriela whirled again, her heart lifting slightly as she looked toward the end of the hall.

“Alejandro?”

There was an open door there. One she hadn’t noticed before. More flickering light inside.

Convinced now that she was in the midst of some kind of fever dream, that she had passed out from exhaustion and was probably, at this very moment, in Alejandro’s arms, Gabriela moved cautiously toward the doorway and stepped inside, surprised by what she saw.

The gas station bathroom.

Just as she remembered it.

The dingy walls, the toilet splattered with feces, the smell of urine and dried blood, the filthy sink, the splintered mirror with the words VA SE FODER spray-painted across it in big red letters. Go fuck yourself.

And sitting on the edge of the sink, beneath that flickering light, was a familiar-looking glass pipe, once translucent, now scarred and blackened by years of abuse.

Sofie’s pipe.

And lying next to it was a small, battered lighter. A faded sticker on its side read GOT JESUS?

Gabriela froze at the sight of them. Was barely able to suppress the feeling welling up inside her. A feeling of contempt, mixed with-dare she say it?

Desire.

She had long ago beat her addiction, had spent many torturous months in rehab to do so, but the dust was a powerful demon and it did not relinquish that power easily.

What are you waiting for, my angel?

A voice again. Not Sofie this time, but another woman. Soft. Soothing. Carrying a dark undercurrent that made Gabriela shiver.

Frightened now, she turned to the door, but it swung shut with a resounding boom. Then the latch clicked, locking her inside.

“Alejandro!” she shouted, pounding her fists against the wood, suddenly afraid that this wasn’t a nightmare after all. “Alejandro, help me!”

He won’t help you, my darling. He doesn’t love you as I do.

Gabriela spun, searching the small room, looking for the source of the voice. “What do you know about him? Who are you? What do want from me?”

Only that you return my love.

Gabriela shifted her gaze to the pipe again. Was it the dust speaking? How could that be possible?

No, no, she thought. Like before, the voice was inside her head. Brought on by the fever. What else could it be?

Tell me you love me, Gabriela.

Gabriela turned, searching the room again. “I love only the Father.”

Oh? Do you see Him anywhere? He cares for you even less than sweet, attentive Alejandro.

“You’re wrong,” Gabriela cried. “He believes in me. He trusts me.”

And how do you know this?

“Why else would he send His angel to . . .”

She stopped herself. All at once, she knew what this was about. And it had nothing to do with fevers or dreams at all.

To what, my darling?

Lowering her voice, she said, “Go away. You’re wasting your time. I’ll never give you what you want.”