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.”
And what would that be?
“To betray my oath.”
The voice laughed. You make it sound so serious. But people break promises every day. What about all those promises you made to Sofie?
“Leave me alone!”
Not until you tell me what I need to know. Don’t worry about the Father. He abandoned us all a long, long time ago. There’s no place in his kingdom for you. You’re one of the forgotten.
“You’re wrong,” Gabriela cried. “He believes in me. Trusts me. And I won’t betray that trust.”
And what about all the scribbling in that precious book of yours? If that isn’t a betrayal, what is?
Gabriela felt fingers skitter along her spine. “How do you know about that?”
I know everything about you, my darling. I’m part of you. I always have been. I’m the desire you feel when you look at Alejandro. When you stare longingly at Sofie’s pipe.
Gabriela shifted her gaze to the sink again and looked at the pipe and lighter sitting there, perched on the edge, calling to her. But she knew she had to resist. “No. I’ll never give in to you. Never.”
Never is such a strong word, isn’t it? Your pathetic old friend said much the same to me, but in the end he was willing to compromise. Everyone is.
“My friend?”
The collector. One of your brethren.
Mention of the collector startled Gabriela. If this woman knew about him and was now coming to her, then they were all at risk. And so was the secret they held. Despite the fear rocketing through her bloodstream, Gabriela could not let herself give in to her weaknesses. There was too much at stake.
“No-you can’t seduce me. I’ll tell you nothing.”
What harm would it do, my angel? Who would know?
“I would know,” Gabriela shouted. “I would know.” Then she turned again, pounding her fists against the door. “Alejandro! Where are you? Help me!”
But no one answered.
Suddenly remembering the phone in her back pocket, and silently thanking Alejandro for his paranoia, she pulled it free and fumbled it in her hands, nearly dropping it. Clutching it tightly, she pressed speed dial, then put it to her ear, waiting for it to ring.
But it didn’t. Went straight to voice mail.
Damn him. Why was he always on the phone?
Then, without warning, Gabriela was confronted by a blur of motion. Something swung out at her, knocking the cell phone from her hand. It flew to the floor, bounced once, and settled faceup under the feces-stained toilet.
Startled, she snapped her head up and discovered that she was no longer alone in the room.
Sofie was there, standing before her, the pipe and lighter in her hands. Her skin was bone white, festering sores on her cheeks and forehead. A dribble of vomit on her chin.
It was far and away the most horrifying sight Gabriela had ever seen. She brought her hands to her mouth, stifling a scream, and backed away.
Then Sofie spoke.
“Look at you, so sweet and noble now. All those fools calling your name. What do you think they’d say if they knew you left me here to die?”
Gabriela shook her head violently. “It was the dust that made me do it. You know that as well as I do.”
“The dust? The dust was our friend, Gabriela. Remember how happy it made us feel? Remember how we laughed?” Sofie lifted the hand holding the pipe. “If you won’t tell us your secret, then why not take an offer of compromise? The same compromise the collector made. All we ask for is the name of one of your brethren. Nothing more.”
“Stay away from me.”
Sofie shoved the pipe toward her. “Give us a name, and this is yours. Just like old times. You can be with the ones who love you. Who love the real you, not this angelic monstrosity you pretend to be.”
“No,” Gabriela shouted, and swung an arm out, knocking the pipe and lighter to the floor.
Sofie watched them roll and land near the phone, then slowly lowered her head. She said nothing for a long moment. And when she spoke, there was sadness in her voice. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”
Suddenly the smell of gasoline filled the air, and Gabriela spun, saw liquid sluicing down the walls, coming down in sheets, pooling on the floor. Fumes rolled toward her and she began to choke and cough, feeling them burn her lungs.
“Give us a name, Gabriela. Now!”
“No.” She gagged. “. . . Leave me alone . . . leave me-”
Sofie’s face churned up in fury as she grabbed Gabriela by the shoulders and threw her against the nearest wall. Gabriela hit it hard and pain tore through her, gasoline pouring onto her head, soaking her hair and clothes, plastering them to her skin.
“Give us the name!” Sofia shouted, then grabbed her again, throwing her against the sink.
Gabriela slammed headfirst into the mirror, splintering the glass. A shard pierced her forehead and blood poured from the wound, mixing with the gasoline as it rolled down her face and into her mouth.