Page 17 of Boxed In

She knew Baltimore a lot better than the men who had said they were after the box. And she wasn’t planning on getting caught. She took another corner at a fast clip, then barreled down an alley into Greektown. With quick maneuvers, she lost the car behind them and kept going.

Finally, she came to a street with a fair amount of traffic.

“All right to turn on the lights?”

“I guess you’d better.”

She drove along Broadway and turned onto one of the side streets where she found a parking place. After easing into the space, she turned to Luke. The interior of the car was dark, but she could see his tense features in the glow from a street lamp several yards down the block.

“They shot your car,” she murmured.

“Yeah, it’s going to need some body work. I have a friend who can take care of it for me.

“Yes,” she answered, her mind racing back over the frantic scene in the garage. “You said one of the men from upstairs ordered the others to stop shooting.”

“Yes.”

“So you understood that language.”

“Zabastian does.”

“Zabastian. Oh sure. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

“The box belongs to a religious group. They call themselves the Way of the Moon. Or simply, the Moon Priests.”

Beth had mentioned an ancient moon cult. So that rang true. And how would Luke know about it? She let that question go and tipped her head to the side, staring at him. “Why don’t you give the box to those men—and be done with it?”

“It does not belong to them. They want the power of the box for . . .” He paused and thought about it. “I do not know for sure who sent them.”

“I thought the box was from an ancient cult. Are you saying it still has power?”

“The Way of the Moon is still active in the world, and they still have enormous power. So does the box.”

“What is the power?”

“That is not for you to know.”

“Well, thanks. I can get shot at trying to save the damn thing. But I can’t know why.”

His eyes turned fierce, and she knew she was talking directly to Zabastian—not Luke. “You must accept what I tell you.”

She swallowed. “It’s a difficult story to believe.” Before he could object, she went on quickly. “What does the box have to do with us?”

“I was charged with the duty of protecting it.”

“You? Luke or Zabastian?”

He gave her a long look. “I think you are smart enough to figure it out,” he answered.

She held his gaze. “If what you’re saying is true—then you’re using Luke Garner. Without his permission.”

His face contorted, and she would have sworn that Luke was in there—that he was trying to say something to her. But this other man—the man she didn’t know—had taken control of the conversation.

She waited with her stomach muscles clenched. Her assumption was confirmed when Zabastian said, “The box must be restored to its rightful owners.”

“Or what?”

He was silent for several seconds, and she thought he might be having some kind of internal dialogue. “Or something very bad will happen.”

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