Page 100 of Boxed In

Luke drank, too. Reward or punishment? He would find out soon enough.

He felt Zabastian quietly waiting as he drained the small cup. More than ever, he was sure the warrior was hiding something, and he’d like to know what it was. But Zabastian made no comment.

“It is time,” the Master said.

Luke stood.

When Olivia stayed on the couch, the old man said, “You have earned the right to come with us.”

“Thank you.”

“Carry the briefcase,” Father Delanos said to Luke.

He picked up the case with the box and the priest led them out of the room and to the back of the building. They stepped into a small chapel with rows of wooden pews. Fine Oriental rugs covered the stone floor. And although it was night outside in the city, light filtered in through windows that were set high above eye level.

Zabastian had always wondered what the view would be if you could climb up and see out. Maybe just blue sky. Maybe the moon shining in a daylight sky.

Men in brightly colored robes sat in the pews, making the room into a rainbow of color. Some wore yellow. Others red or green or blue, and Zabastian silently explained that the robes denoted their status in the order.

They were all facing a stone altar, covered with carvings of the moon. Quarter moons, half moons, full moons—all decorated with gold and precious jewels.

A beautiful silk banner hung above the altar.

Zabastian had been here before. Many times over the centuries. And the sanctuary was familiar to him. But he was seeing it with Luke and Olivia’s eyes now, marveling at the rich setting.

For them, it was probably like a church, but not a denomination they had ever encountered before.

Olivia was ushered to a pew at the front left—a place of honor in this group. And Zabastian walked to the altar, carrying the briefcase. When he opened it and took out the box, an exclamation rose from the priests who had assembled for the ceremony.

Delanos held out his hands, and Luke handed over the box. This was a sacred moment, a moment of great importance for the temple.

But it was also a moment of danger for any flesh and blood person who was in the room.

Luke took a step back before the Master placed the box into a special indentation that had been carved into the top of the altar.

He knew what was happening now. The priests of this temple had constructed the box more than a thousand years ago—when they decided that their place was in the background, not in the world of men.

The box was a link to the world. And now it was transferring the power it had absorbed to the altar, infusing the Temple of the Moon with the energy that would keep it going for a hundred years or more. If the box had stayed out in the world for much longer, it would have exploded. But here, it conferred its power to the temple.

As everyone watched, the sacred object began to glow with an otherworldly light.

Olivia gasped.

Probably it was finally sinking in that the wooden object they’d been carrying around was far more than she had dreamed possible. It was a conduit, siphoning energy from the universe and drawing it to the temple.

As the connection heated up, a sizzling sound like an electric current came from the altar. In the next moment, sparks flew from the box—enveloping the altar in a shower of fire that looked like it would burn down the room and the temple with it.

Zabastian stood his ground. He was too close for comfort, as far as Luke was concerned, the heat like a furnace, searing his skin. And in a terrible moment of truth, Luke understood that he was in deep trouble. He grabbed for the back of a pew, but the warrior prevented hi fingers from closing.

No, stop, he screamed inside his head.

But Zabastian had already made a fateful decision for the two of them, and there was no way Luke could stop him.

In that terrible moment, he knew what the warrior had been hiding from everyone—including the man who had lent him his body without giving permission.

The warrior leaped forward, into the shower of sparks, the fire flaming up around him, the heat and darts of energy sending agony to all of Luke’s nerve endings. He was being burned alive, even if his flesh still looked normal.

He wanted to scream in pain and anger, but the warrior kept the anguish locked in his throat.

The room around him faded to gray. But he looked for Olivia and found her. She had surged to her feet. When she started toward him, two of the priests grabbed her arms and held her in place.

At least she would be safe.

Thank God for that.

The thought came from Luke and from the warrior, too.

Luke opened his mouth, and his voice boomed out, filling the sanctuary.

“I will not go back in the box. I will gladly die here rather than suffer that fate again.

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