Page 102 of Boxed In

“Yes.”

There was no question about her answer—not when she and Luke had been through so much together. Not when she understood in this terrible moment how much he meant to her. “What do I have to do?” she asked.

“His spirit is halfway between this world and the next. If you follow him, perhaps you can bring him back.”

“What about the warrior? Will I bring him back, too?”

“I do not know,” the priest answered, and she heard the deep regret in his voice.

She knew she should keep her opinion to herself. But she simply couldn’t stop herself from saying, “You punished Zabastian for something he did long ago. He faithfully did your bidding, but I guess being confined in that box and feeling time ticking by over a thousand years was more than he could endure. More than anyone could endure.”

“Yes. I understand that now,” the priest answered in a low voice. Age does not always bring wisdom. Sometimes it takes a fearful event.”

“If I find him and Luke—can I tell him that he doesn't have to return to the box?”

“Yes.”

“How do I reach them?”

“I can send you to them. To the gateway between life and death.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “The gateway between life and death. And what do I do when I get there?”

“That is the part I can’t tell you. What you do will be up to you.”

It sounded like an impossible task, but she gave a small nod and whispered, “Okay.”

“Lie down,” the priest said.

She started to ask where. Then she saw that the narrow bed was wider now—wide enough for two people.

Without asking how that had happened, she kicked off her shoes and eased onto the white sheet, pressing her shoulder lightly against Luke’s, afraid to increase the contact or do anything else that would injure his already mangled skin.

“Close your eyes.”

When she did as he’d asked, the priest made a gruff sound. “The next part may hurt.”

She braced herself for pain, then felt a jolt like a knife stabbing into her brain as he laid his hands on her forehead.

The bed seemed to drop away from under her, and then she was lost in absolute and complete nothingness

She was disconnected from her body, disconnected from every one of her senses, and fear clawed at her throat. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out because sound was impossible.

She was nowhere. Nothing. And it had happened in the space of a heartbeat. Only now she didn’t even know if her heart was still beating.

What had she done?

Her eyes were wide open, but she couldn’t see. She might have been in the cold, dark reaches of outer space. But in space, her body would explode, wouldn’t it?

Instead, the only sensation was of a terrifying free fall, as though she’d jumped from a plane, and her parachute had failed to open. Only, to add to her confusion, she felt like she was falling “up” not “down.”

Then, off in the distance, she recognized light shining. It might have been the full moon. Or something else. She wasn’t sure what she saw. She only knew that her salvation depended on reaching that place where there was hope.

Once again, everything changed in the space of a heartbeat. She was no longer out in the cold dark nothingness. Suddenly, her feet touched down on a solid surface. Relief flooded through her. As she looked around to see where she was, she realized she was in an enclosed space, a tunnel with a curved wall. The light she had seen was shining at the end—calling her.

She ached to rush forward—to embrace the light. That was why she had come here, wasn't it?

Or was it? She pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to dispel the confusion swimming in her brain.

---