The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  “Wouldn’t it be better to tour during the day?”

  “You don’t know this city like I do, darling.”

  “I don’t think I would be allowed to.”

  “There’s no need to worry. I’m not like those other officers. I’m in charge, and I love being here...the food, the countryside, and the pretty girls. I love it! This is so much more amusing than sitting in a stinky old office. I swear I am a gentleman, and you will be safe with me.”

  “Well, perhaps a small tour wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Not at all, I swear it. Do you like shopping? I think all girls do.” He pressed the back of my hand to his lips. “Shall we meet tomorrow at 6 o’clock?”

  “Yes...and my name is Noelle.” Resisting the urge to gag, I headed back over to my table. Brande had returned from the smoking room, and I took my place between him and Gabriel.

  “What was that all about?” Brande left most of his plate untouched.

  “I have a date.” I fondled the case of garnet lipstick in my pocket. I was saving it for when I really needed it. The talisman ring didn’t protect against red garnet, so I would use it on Simon Vester tomorrow evening so I could find the lab and rescue Heilwig.

  The guys went out scouting the city. They even looked for any Maquisards who could help with the lab raid. I declined to join them and took advantage of the rare opportunity to lounge at a café. I even went to a small dress shop, where I bought a powder blue dress that caught my eye. However, when I made it back to my room at Le Fleur, I sadly realized that I probably would have no reason to wear it unless I used it as part of a cover.

  With the exception of cash, a few weapons, and special items, I didn’t carry much on me. I didn’t even have much of a wardrobe at home since I hardly resided in my flat in London. Sometimes, when I did return there, I’d go straight to Baker Street and then back to the air hangar.

  I felt regret as I thought about Ken, and if I had convinced him to leave with me, we’d already be in each other’s arms somewhere far away. The only thing that helped me keep my resolve was the thought of Stella, Otto...and Renée. If for nothing else, I needed to finish this for them.

  I ate dinner in my room, since the men hadn’t yet returned, and I tried to drive away my doubts and sour thoughts through reading. I went to the rickety bookshelf in my guestroom and browsed the books inside. I immediately grabbed the Emily Dickinson poetry collection and lounged on my bed. After an hour, I heard a knock on the door.

  “Come in.”

  It was Brande. He had a newspaper rolled up beneath his arm. He acknowledged me with a nod, went straight for the large cushiony chair in the corner, and sat down. He unfurled his newspaper and began reading. “We decided that someone should keep watch here, since Simon Vester turned out to be a man of ill-repute.”

  Well, with his tall muscular build, he could take on anyone of ill repute. “So, after seven hours, the only thing you geniuses found out was that Simon Vester is a bad man?”

  “One night under watch won’t hurt. If your plan works tomorrow, we’ll find the lab and raid it. Then we’ll be done with all this.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, why does it have to be you?” I had the feeling this was all his idea.

  “Ernest and Lucien need to maintain their separate cover. They’re only here for backup. And, I don’t want you badgering Father Gabriel about whether or not he’s a Vatican spy. I’m the only logical choice.”

  He was such a liar. “Oh, spare me your logic.”

  I grabbed a pillow and flung it at him—without looking up from his newspaper, he caught it with his right hand and placed it behind his head.

  “Thank you.”

  And he wondered why I sometimes kicked him out of my Baker Street office. With a sigh, I rolled over and re-opened the book, scanning the pages until I reached the poem on which my father’s message was based. I replayed the words in my mind:

  Safe in their alabaster chambers,

  untouched by morning and untouched by noon,

  sleep the meek members of the resurrection,

  rafter of satin, and roof of stone.

  I drifted into a quiet sleep, devoid of any dreams of watching my father appear and disappear in a blaze of unnatural fire.

  I awoke in the morning with my book still near me, and Brande gone. On my way to the bathroom, I noticed the faint glow of a Circle of Protection around my bed, and despite myself, I smiled. I quickly washed and brushed my teeth, deciding to go with the blue dress I bought. My only other option was the blouse and skirt Jasmine had lent me when I left her house. However, I did put on the thin gold bracelet she gave me as a parting gift.

  When I came down for breakfast, I saw only Father Gabriel sitting at the table we had shared yesterday. I joined him and began eating and drinking the meal that Claire set for me. Today he wore a cassock and a cape, no doubt using it to conceal his sword. I understood how he felt about having his weapon on him; even though I still had the silver knife from Bernard, I longed for the one I had lost at the university.

  “Where’s everyone else?” I buttered my toast and took a bite.

  “Lucien wasn’t feeling well, so they took him out for a walk.”

  “I knew it. He’s of no use to us like this.”

  “He lost his father only a couple of days ago. It’ll take time to heal.”

  “I know how that feels.”

  As soon as I was old enough, I began asking all kinds of questions, and researching any of the old news articles I could get my hands on about my father and his final assignment. I had found out that he had been repeatedly sent on diplomatic missions to the Ottoman Empire at the end of the Great War. The Turkish government began phasing out the Caliphate, and Mehmed VI feared for his life as it became increasingly clear that he would be deposed.

  He asked for protection since he cooperated with stepping away from the Empire, and so my father was among those sent to watch and protect. The U.S. got what it wanted, which was a safe transition, a pair of eyes and ears in that region of the world, and the Gray Tower was given access to Mehmed’s personal collection of esoteric texts and scrolls spanning centuries. The Order of Wizards wouldn’t dream of passing up an opportunity to possess tomes of knowledge from ancient and medieval alchemists.

  Of course, wherever there was mystical knowledge to be had, not only did it attract the Order, but also our enemies. The Gray Tower, and my father in particular, proved to be a constant thorn in the Black Wolves’ side. When we had learned of my dad’s disappearance and apparent death, I was as devastated as Lucien, and understood the heartache and loss. However, with the knowledge that the Black Wolves have failed and my father indeed lived, it gave me a sense of hope—but it also raised even more questions. For a moment, I thought of Marc’s accusation, but the idea made me feel ill, and I quickly dismissed it.

  “I trust you have everything planned out regarding our friend Simon Vester?” Gabriel drank his glass of milk and patiently awaited an answer.

  “I’m going to get him to tell me where the lab is. Heck, he’ll even give us a map if I want him to.”

  “Then when it’s time to go there, I’ll dress in disguise.”

  “You mean you don’t want a secret Nazi lab knowing that the Vatican is sending in warrior priests to shut them down?” I didn’t think I would ever get past that.

  He leaned toward me. “I know I should’ve been at the Gray Tower by now, but I wanted to help you.”

  “How sweet of you...why do you carry a sword?”

  “It’s my weapon of choice, like your alchemist’s knife. My sword is a relic of sorts, and it holds great sentimental value.”

  “Hmph.” I lifted my glass and drank some water.

  “Just think—when you use a gun, bullets can fly anywhere or hit anyone.” He raised his hands and wagged his index fingers in varying directions. “However, with a sword, if I want to kill you with it, there’s no mis
take.”

  “And how do you reconcile that with being a man of the cloth?”

  “I only fight in the defense of others, or if my opponent is a Cruenti. I mostly dispatch them, and Black Wolves.”

  “You’re the oddest priest I’ve ever met.” However, I did like the idea of a Cruenti getting whacked on sight.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “If you weren’t trained by the Gray Tower, then how do you know to control your powers?”

  “You assume that the Gray Tower is the only means of learning to do this?”

  “Yes, now that you’ve mentioned it, the Black Wolves also specialize in training people with abilities.”

  “Lucky for you, I am not one of them.”

  Although his tone implied no malice, I felt mildly disturbed. Well, I wouldn’t say Brande didn’t warn me about questioning the man. In any case, despite my resentment toward Brande for not telling me about my father, deep inside I trusted him. If he could trust Father Gabriel, then I was willing to refrain from jumping to conclusions—for now.

  “Can I ask you something, Father?”

  “Of course.”

  “How old were you when you first knew of your...gifts?”

  “I was nine years old.”

  “How old are you, Father?”

  “Forty.”

  I gasped and poured myself some Château. “Is that part of your gifts? You look my age.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  “So...why did you become a priest?”

  He studied me for a moment before answering. “When I was young, I had an encounter that I would never forget. I believed that in order to avoid falling into the trap that some wizards have found themselves in, that I should dedicate my life to God and keep constant vigilance.”

  “So that’s why you go after Cruenti warlocks? Get the devil before he gets you?”

  He gave a firm nod. “Does that surprise you?”

  “Not really.”

  Some people made pacts with demons for money, fame, or power. Cruenti made pacts with them for magic, regardless if they were born wizards or not. They satisfied the bond through their Blood Magic, which primarily consisted of feeding off other wizards. Something like that couldn’t be done without destroying one’s self in the process. The longer one remained a Cruenti, the closer one came to transforming into a Black Wolf. Sure, he would be all magic and still powerful, but his humanity wouldn’t remain intact. He’d be an abomination.

  A wizard sensitive to the spirit world ended up being the easiest target for these demons. He’d either repel the temptation or, if he proved weak, would suffer from oppression until he finally gave in and became a Cruenti.

  I shook these thoughts off and turned my attention toward Ernest, who came in with his arm around Lucien’s shoulder. I saw Lucien’s face and sighed.

  “Look, breakfast is ready!” Ernest pointed toward the food, but Lucien only stared into blank space with red and swollen eyes. They took their seats a few tables away, and Brande came in carrying a paper bag. He looked rather relaxed, and had changed into a khaki shirt and black pants.

  “Nice shirt.” I gestured for him to come sit next to me.

  “Nice dress.” Brande took his seat.

  “Thank you. I hope your outing this morning was productive.” I glanced at Lucien from the corner of my eye.

  “Lucien just needed some fresh air. We stopped by the pharmacy and got a few things.” Brande handed me the bag, which was probably filled with minerals and metals for me. He always knew exactly what to look for and where to find ingredients, even though he didn’t have to do that for me.

  “Excuse me.” I stood and walked toward the exit. Lightly brushing Lucien’s arm in passing, I impressed upon him the urge to come and sit outside and talk with me. He walked out after me, joining me on a bench next to a flowerbed a few buildings down from Le Fleur.

  “I know what you’re going to say.” He stared at me without blinking. “I want to be here, and I want to help.”

  “Lucien, we need all the help we can get, believe me. But if you’re not ready for this, then just stay in the hostel until we’re done.”

  “They killed my father. I’m going with you to that laboratory and, no matter what the cost, I’m going to kill as many of them as I can.”

  “I know, and that’s why I’m afraid you’re just an empty shell looking for revenge and not caring about anyone else.”

  “Don’t patronize me.” He reached into his pocket and took out a lighter. When he lit his cigarette, the tainted fume of cadmium was even more pungent, and we both coughed.

  “It shouldn’t require two other adults to take you out for fresh air and walk around. You’re a mess...and stop using that lighter or you’ll kill yourself. The metal’s toxic.” I tried to remain calm, but my frustration already had a hold of me.

  With a smirk, he placed the lighter back into his pocket. “I’ll live long enough to finish this assignment, I assure you. I’ve already drawn out what the layout of the lab may look like. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the same as the Catalonia lab.”

  “Good, then once you get your head straight, you can actually be of use to us.”

  “Assuming this weapons lab is even in this city, and assuming we can handle the guards, be it man or Black Wolf.”

  “Brande, Gabriel, and I will take care of all the warlocks. You just take care of the German soldiers.”

  “All right then,” he reached into his pocket, pulled out the tainted lighter, and tossed it to me. “If we die, we die.”

  The lighter made my stomach feel queasy, and I set it aside. “Listen, I only knew your father briefly, but from the moment I met him, all he talked about was you. From what I hear, you’re helping to make a difference, and whatever you can do for us is appreciated. I want all of us to make it out alive.”

  He gave a surprised look. He probably expected a verbal lashing. “I was supposed to take care of him, but he died in my arms...I have nothing now.”

  “Nothing to fight for, right?”

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “Because, I can’t go through all of this without thinking, feeling...or questioning. Can you? If you think you have nothing to lose, you’ll run in there reckless and get yourself killed, and maybe us along with you.”

  He snorted. “It seems this conversation wasn’t completely altruistic.”

  “You’re damned right it isn’t, because if anything happens to Brande, you’ll regret it.”

  A flicker of a smile crossed his face, and he shook his head. “You know, he told me the same thing about you this morning. Well, in his version, he said if anything happened to you, that he’d throw me off the Eiffel Tower.”

  I smiled. “I’m not surprised...we’re good friends. So tell me truthfully, are you with us?”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “I’m with you.”

  15

  I sat at the vanity mirror in my room, taking down my pin curls and gently running my fingers through my hair. I didn’t want to lose my waves, so I took care not to comb too hard, and ended up pleased with the results. I refused to wear perfume, as the thought of Simon using my pleasant smell as an excuse to put his face near me made me cringe. The most important accessory was, of course, my red garnet lipstick. Brande once jokingly called it, “love potion on a stick.”

  The red garnet stone enhanced one’s romantic desire and inclinations and, when ground and mixed in with something as common as a lady’s lipstick, would go undetected. One kiss, mixed with my intention and energy, would send the target into a state of mind where he would obey any command and perform any action for the sake of pleasing the object of his affection.

  The red garnet lasted longer than my body magic’s mind control spell, and with the lipstick, I didn’t have to renew the spell so soon or keep physical contact with the person. Red garnet had its benefits, especially if I wanted to reserve my magical energy for other spells. At the same time,
it could also be dangerous, because red garnet also inspired aggression and violence.

  I would never put this in the hands of an inexperienced or ill-intentioned person, and even I had only used it twice before: on a mercenary spy who the London office believed double-crossed our French SOE friends, and a very handsome wizard who had lied about being trained by the Gray Tower, and infiltrated the Maquis so he could steal information for the Nazis.

  With slow strokes, I applied the lipstick and took a long look at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I imagined myself stalking one of those beautiful Hollywood actresses and working a spell on her so that she would have to tell me the secret of those tiny waists and perfectly sculptured figures. I slipped on my Agate stone ring. Its deep green matched the color of my eyes, and the Bracelet of Vitriol I had made from the supplies Brande brought me. Something like this would fetch a very high price on the black market, and only Apprentices like me knew how to properly make them. I had known some Practitioners to have made decent wages opening their own shops and making all kinds of charms, talismans, and potions. Still, even the best Practitioner Alchemist couldn’t make vitriol.

  Vitriol was a chemical compound of sulfuric salts. It would be like eggs in the world of baking—highly desirable, used often, and you couldn’t make the really good stuff without it. Alchemists used vitriol to transmute base metals into gold (though no one has figured out yet how to make this permanent), and to create weapons and charms.

  I carved my salts into little beads, which I then fixed onto the gold bracelet Jasmine had given me. I placed in three red vitriol beads, which would lend me energy, three white beads for mental and physical purification, and black vitriol made from iron, which would provide me with protection from evil yet deal deadly blows to my foes. I decided to set three of each color, because three was a lucky number, and nine was the mystical number for endurance.

  I slid my knife into the leather sheath strapped to my leg and then slipped into my heels. With a long deep sigh, I fondled my bracelet and headed out the door. Simon would arrive at any moment. I went outside and sat at the bench where I had earlier spoken with Lucien. As the sky dimmed and purpled, I scanned the nearby area. A few couples strolled down the street in each other’s arms, and shopkeepers called out to them in an attempt to get a last sale for the day. A couple of German Armed Forces soldiers patrolled on foot, but I didn’t see any of the SS officers.