In the darkness, Luke struggled to control a spurt of fear. If Olivia couldn’t get into the temple, then she would be outside—alone and unprotected.

Damn, he should have made her stay with Dr. Sanchez. But he’d wanted to keep her with him as long as possible, and he had to protect her.

“You couldn’t see the building?” he asked. “Between numbers 57 and 59,” he repeated, in case she was looking in the wrong place. “The house with the blue woodwork. And the one with the yellow door.”

She answered in a small voice, her one word tearing at him like the claws of a bird of prey.

“No.”

Fighting to keep his wildly swinging emotions under control, he scrambled around for a way to help her bring the temple into her vision. It was so natural to him, now that he’d absorbed the warrior’s essence. And he’d assumed it would be the same for her.

Finally, he came up with an analogy. “Have you ever looked at any of those Magic Eye books and seen a flat picture change to three dimensional?”

“Yes. But what does that have to do with it?”

“So you know you have to change the way you look at the page. It’s kind of like crossing your eyes.”

“Yes.”

“It’s the same for the Moon Temple. If you stare at the line between those two houses and change your vision, you’ll see the doorway of the temple. And the rest of the building is in back of it.”

“What if I can’t see it?”

He tried to sound confident. “If you can’t see it, just run with me to the doorway, and the priests will let you in.”

Together, Luke and Zabastian prayed that it was true. Prayed with every fiber of belief that they’d ever possessed. Because if it wasn’t, they were both in big trouble.

But Olivia must have caught the hesitation in his voice. She put her hands on his shoulders, gripping him through the suit jacket.

He heard her swallow hard. “You mean, you might get inside, and I can’t?”

He felt a kind of desperation rising inside him. “That might be true. I don’t know. We just have to have faith.”

“Faith in the moon priests?”

“Yes.”

“A cult that died out a thousand years ago?”

Frustration made his words choppy. “I told you, they didn’t die out. They just went into hiding.”

“Okay.”

He changed the subject abruptly. “We can’t stay in this shed.”

“Who do you think was out there?”

“The police. The Poisoned Ones,” he answered, hoping the reality would jolt her into action.

She sighed. “Yeah.”

“We have to make a run for the temple and hope we can get inside before anybody grabs us. If you can’t see the door, follow me,” he repeated his earlier advice.

She dragged in a breath and let it out. “Okay.”

He reached inside the briefcase and pulled out the shoulder strap, which he attached in the dark. When he was sure it was secure, he slung it over his head and across his chest so that the bag hung against his back, leaving his hands free.

Then he eased the door open and peered into the alley. As far as he could see, it was clear. But he knew someone could be waiting in the shadows for them to make a move.

He had no idea how the Poisoned Ones could have figured out where to find the temple, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were around here somewhere—waiting. He didn’t tell any of that to Olivia as he led her down the alley.

His leg was starting to throb, but he ignored the pain. He’d just been shot the day before, and under ordinary circumstances he wouldn’t have been able to walk without crutches. Now he gritted his teeth and kept going, telling himself that he only had a few more minutes before he reached safety.

At the entrance to the street, he stopped again and slung his arm around Olivia’s shoulder, then bent to whisper in her ear. “Do you see the houses?”

“Yes.”

“Look at the line between them.”

“I am!”

“And you don’t see anything?”

“No.”

He repressed a curse, silently admitting that if she couldn’t see it, she might be barred from entering. But maybe he could get her inside. Or maybe the priests would take pity on them.

A rough sound rose in his throat. The priests had never taken pity on the warrior. They had insured his loyalty, then doomed him to hell for centuries.

“What?” Olivia whispered.

“Nothing. Follow me.” He stepped out of the alley and hurried to the corner, hearing her high-heeled shoes clicking right behind him.

Damn. That was another mistake he'd made. He should have told her to wear something more practical. But he'd wanted to see her all dressed up.

They crossed the street, and he stopped for a moment, fighting the tension in his gut.

“Do you see it yet?”

“I’m trying.”

His mouth dry as sand and his jaw set in a grim line, he started across the street. At that moment, three men flew out of the darkness, heading directly for him.

The Poisoned Ones. Desperate to get the box before it was too late.

Olivia screamed. As Luke whirled, facing the closest attacker, he knew he had to relinquish command of his body again.

This time, he asked Zabastian to take over, feeling the man’s martial arts training seize his muscles and tendons.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Olivia stand paralyzed for a long moment. Then she reached into the small purse she still carried.

He’d forgotten about the purse. Forgotten that Brand had told him she would be armed.

“Run for the temple,” he shouted.

She didn’t reply, and she didn’t run.

Instead she pivoted, facing one of the men as he charged toward Luke.

He still saw her only from the corner of his vision as he flung one of the Poisoned Ones to the ground, then blocked a lethal blow from one of the others.

As he whirled again, the bad leg buckled, and he had to call on every ounce of discipline he possessed to keep from falling over.

A shot rang out, and he realized that Olivia had fired her gun. One of the bad guys staggered but kept coming

“Kill the harlot,” he shouted.

Another one of them switched his attention from Luke to Olivia, lunging at her.

Luke threw out his arm, catching the man in the neck and sending him sprawling in the street.

At least no cars were coming, Luke thought with one corner of his mind. Then he heard a siren in the distance and he knew that they had only a few moments to get to safety.

“Run for the temple,” he shouted to Olivia,

She stayed beside him, firing again as one of the bad guys got up and charged.

He stopped the man with a kick, then grabbed Olivia’s shoulder and urged her toward the temple.

With the assailants right behind them, they staggered together across the street toward the spot where he knew they could find safety.

As they drew nearer, Olivia gasped. “I see it.”

“Thank God! Get inside.”

One of the Poisoned Ones had given up. The other two put on a burst of speed, desperate to win the prize they had come here to steal.

One of them made a grab for the briefcase, but Olivia brought the gun down on his hand.

He grunted, but he didn’t stop running.

When he grabbed her by the hair and tried to throw her to the ground, she screamed. Luke turned and chopped down with his hand on the man’s fingers. He let go, and she stumbled along, freed from the attacker’s grip.

Police cars rounded the corner with lights flashing as Luke grabbed Olivia’s arm and pulled her up the temple steps to the stone archway carved with the phases of the moon.

Below the arch were huge wooden doors, banded with iron. They could never have fit in the space between the two row houses. Not in real life. But Luke had always known the doors would be here when he found the temple, even if he couldn’t explain how they existed in time and space.

They loomed in front of him, overshadowing the two buildings that were nominally on either side.

Olivia reached the door and grasped the handle, trying to pull it open, but nothing happened, and Luke felt a terrible pressure inside his chest.

Even if you could see the doors, they didn’t open for everyone. As he raised his hand to pound, the opposite door creaked on its huge hinges. With a prayer of thanks, he pushed Olivia inside, then followed behind her.

Stumbling, she tried to catch herself but ended up sprawling ignominiously on the inlaid tile floor. She was lying at the feet of a man wearing sandals and rich blue robes. Father Delanos.

Zabastian remembered him from the last time he had defended the Master’s property. His hair was gray, but his face was smooth. Really he didn’t look like he’d been living for over five hundred years.

Olivia gasped for breath. Zabastian struggled to maintain some semblance of dignity. But it was difficult when they’d come flying through the doors like refugees from a tornado.

Beside him, Olivia sat up and looked around in awe at the rich murals on the walls. They showed the night sky, with the moon at the center of each picture. Each was bordered by gold tiles inlaid into the stone.

“It’s real,” she gasped.

“Of course it’s real,” the Grand Master said.

She climbed shakily to her feet and stood swaying on unsteady legs. “But how? I mean, I’ve never heard of you.”

“We decided centuries ago that we did not want to set ourselves up as a rival to the world’s great religions. So we have gone underground.”

“Okay. I get that part. But that doesn’t explain this building being here where I’ve never seen it before. And nobody else can see it, either. How is it possible?”

The Grand Master spoke with infinite patience. “Because we can bend the fabric of the space-time continuum.”

“Then why did you need Luke to bring you the box?” she asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.

“We have great power—inside this building. Once we leave, we are at a considerable disadvantage.”

Luke answered the question. “Like—he’ll die if he leaves.”

“Why?”

“I should introduce myself,” the man said. “I am Father Delanos. And I am very old. Older than I look. Inside this building, time stands almost still, and I age very slowly.”

Olivia gasped as she took that in. Tipping her head to the side, she looked at the priest with new eyes.

“If someone else told me that, I’d think . . . .” Her voice trailed off. “But I believe you.”

Father Delanos acknowledged the words with a little smile.

Olivia cleared her throat. “Thank you for letting me in. Why did you change your mind?”

He smiled again. “Because you were fighting to save the life of Zabastian. And we couldn’t leave you outside to face the Poisoned Ones—or your police.”

“Thank you.”

“And thank you, as well. You are a very brave woman.”

“I didn’t feel brave. I felt scared.”

“Fear is often the spur to bravery,” Father Delanos said. He gestured to Olivia. “I want to welcome you properly. Come in.”

He led the two of them down a long hallway, and Luke saw Olivia still looking around as though she couldn’t believe the reality of the temple.

“This place is big,” she murmured. “But it takes up no space on the outside.”

“One of our little tricks,” the high priest said as he ushered them into a small sitting room.

It was furnished with low couches and rich Oriental rugs with moon and star designs woven into the pattern. A tray sat on a carved wooden table.

“Sit down and be comfortable.”

Luke pulled the briefcase off of his back and handed it to Father Delanos. “The box is in here.”

“Yes. Thank you. We will deal with it soon. Sit down,” he said again.

You’ve been struggling to get the box here, and he’s not acting like it’s important, Luke silently commented.

He will get to it in good time.

They sat, and Father Delanos poured a drink from a crystal bottle into a golden cup and handed it to Olivia. She sniffed the contents, then looked at the priest.

“I hope this isn’t like that box of chocolates in Narnia. Where Edwin ate one and it enslaved him to the White Witch.”

The priest laughed. “No. Of course not.”

Luke felt his stomach tighten. “It’s a potion that will lengthen your life,” he said.

Her eyes widened, and she looked at the priest again. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“As a reward,” Father Delanos said.

She eyed him—and eyed Luke. “But it was a punishment for Zabastian, wasn’t it?”

The priest nodded. “Rewards and punishments depend on the circumstances.”

She took a cautious sip, looking like she expected it to taste like medicine. “It’s good.”

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.