“What’s in the box?” Susan asked, rubbing her arms and looking around the empty basement. James pulled the sole, small battered cardboard box from the otherwise bereft shelves. 

“I…well, it’s hard to explain.” James looked down at the box, refusing to meet her eyes. “I just…”

“Is this one of those things like in the movies? Do you have a collection of human thumbs in there?” 

“What? No. Gross.” He wrinkled his nose. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re the one being all mysterious with the box.”

“Do you remember when we first met?” James sat on the stairs and put the box next to him. 

“We should get back upstairs.” She looked back toward the basement door and the party she could only vaguely hear. “We don’t want Simon thinking I’ve run off with you, do you?” 

“Do you remember?” He opened the worn cardboard flaps.

“Of course I remember.” Susan folded and unfolded her arms. The cold moldy smell of the basement made the back of her throat ache. 

“It was January.” He reached into the box, then paused to look at her. “You had snowflakes caught on your eyelashes.” 

“I said I remembered.” She rubbed her arms. Simon would come down the stairs any moment now to see what they were up to. Usually he refused to let her out of his sight. “Is this some sort of game?”

“No, it’s very serious.” He pulled another box out of the cardboard box. Paua shell inlaid the teak panels of the second box, shining under the bare light bulb. He cast aside the cardboard box and faced her, holding out the teak box like an offering. “Here, take this.”

“Why ever for?” Susan folded her hands behind her back. The box glimmered slimily in his hands. If she touched it, she knew it would stick to her hands. Her skin crawled. 

“Because I asked you to.” He looked at her, “Are you all right? You’re acting weird today.”

“I’m acting weird? You’re the one who dragged me down into the basement, away from the party, to look at a box.”

“My grandfather brought this box back from the north pole.” James said, sliding the top of the box to the side. Frost rimmed his eyelashes, glittering behind his glasses. He put the top to the side as fog poured forth from it. It had to be dry ice. 

His eyes reflected the colors of the box, the hues swirling in his icy blue gaze. She backed up toward the stairs, averting her eyes from the light. The basement’s increasing cold shivered down her spine. This had to be a joke, some sort of un-funny post-Halloween thing.

Singing came from somewhere, high pitched hums and guttural rumbles. Susan put her hand to her throat; the sound was coming from her. 

Panicked, her lizard brain left her consciousness behind like a useless tail. She took the stairs two at a time. Run fast, run far, run away, run away, run run run.

Grasping the doorknob, she tried to turn it. When had he locked it? How had she not noticed? She rattled the knob, her heart thumping through her palms to the stoic brass. The beat reverberated through the door, through the walls. Dizzy, she braced herself between the door and the rail. 

Holding the box like an offering, James ascended the stairs. Strange shapes moved in the box and it was suddenly too small for whatever it held. Her throat sang again, and she understood the words. Oh Frozen One, oh Majestic One, oh Mighty One. Her soul recognized them, reverberated with them. She refused to accept them. 

James bowed before her. “Awaken, oh Majestic One. Awaken and rule your servants.”

The door behind her opened and Simon stood there. Susan turned to him, her eyes pleading, not trusting her voice. He bowed as well. “Oh Frozen One. Bless your servants with your visage.”

The fog roiled around her feet, freezing her with its touch. She knew she would have to look in the box. Any moment now she would look and when she looked she would be lost. This thing in her soul, this thing in her throat, would take over. 

“What’s in the box?” Susan whispered.