The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  “I’ve already got clearance to fly you over myself,” Ernest said. “I’m going to be running a few missions for the Red Tails next week.”

  “I’m glad, but, for goodness sake, I don’t want to hear about you getting shot out of the sky again.” I gave both Lucien and Jasmine a hug and said my goodbyes to them.

  As I left with Ernest, I couldn’t help but worry about the talisman. How was it supposed to be activated? I hoped it hadn’t been damaged in the fire. Suddenly, I felt the warmth of the sapphire pendant against my skin and noticed a faint glow. Delana was under attack by Ammon. For the first time ever, I seriously considered going back on a promise I had made. However, I needed the demon destroyed just as much as she did, and now she was calling for my help. If he drove her to suicide or somehow killed her in order to break away from their bind, then he’d come after me with his full power. Whether I liked it or not, I needed to prepare to Confront a demon.

  37

  Confrontations had originally developed out of necessity. After the Black Plague decimated much of the European population in the Middle Ages, there weren’t always enough clergy around to help combat demons--especially demons who preyed on wizards. A collective of brave souls decided to step in and fill the role of engaging in Confrontations, where they’d aid a harassed victim by challenging the demon and sending it away. Sometimes, it could be through an exorcism if the person had great faith and skill, or it could be a matter of ritualistic magic coupled with a clear and unbending will. Sometimes, the person doing the Confronting would simply lift a curse that the victim had been placed under.

  Few wizards were skilled in Confrontations nowadays, and such a task was, once again, left to clergy. I had read before how Confrontations would take place, and had even seen a few done--but observing it and doing it myself were two different things. If a Drifter did cause demons to be drawn to wizards, then it wasn’t unreasonable to assume the Drifter could also send these evil beings back into the spirit world. Delana had said that Ammon needed to be destroyed, not simply cast out, and that my Drifter ability could accomplish it. I would probably have to attack Ammon with Zaman’s Fire and destroy him in the Confrontation.

  However, if he still appeared to me as Ken, it would be much more difficult. Logically, I knew that it wasn’t Ken, but my emotions refused to submit to reason. My heart had been weighed down with anxiety and grief, and I still didn’t have any closure. The last time I saw Ken alive, we had argued with each other, and the man who murdered him was still running loose. I blamed myself for what happened, and kept thinking about what I could’ve done to make things turn out differently.

  I knew this would be difficult, and so, before leaving Spain, Ernest and I had stopped at a tiny church where I picked up a few items that I knew I’d need for the Confrontation with Ammon. Even when we arrived in London and recuperated for a few hours at a hotel, I still felt my shoulders tightening and my head throbbing in anticipation. I felt more confident walking into this Confrontation in the late afternoon, when the sun still shined and with an arsenal of holy items and Ernest at my side. As we made our way through the daily bustle of London’s East End, I gave him instructions. “Delana’s staying with her niece, Alina, and she’ll be there to assist us. Depending on how things go, I may need you to help Alina restrain Delana.”

  “Wait...restrain her? Don’t we just say a few prayers and you throw some magic dust on her or something?”

  “It’s possible this may end in possession...if it hasn’t happened to her already. This is my first time doing a Confrontation, but I’ve seen it done before. I’ve been told that I have an ability that can destroy demons.”

  “But this is your first time?” He gave me a sidelong glance.

  “You’re free to wait outside, or head back to the Royal Air Force base.”

  “Don’t try that with me. I said I’d help, and here I am.”

  “Good, then you’re stuck with me.” I handed him a slip of paper. “If it looks like I’m in trouble, go to this address and bring this man to me.”

  He read the note. “Who’s Maolán Martin?”

  “Number 33. We’re here.”

  We turned and entered a brick housing building that was only two stories high. As the smell of midday meals being cooked in kitchens wafted toward us, we headed down the hall to the door with a number eight painted on it. Before I knocked, I turned toward Ernest and gazed straight into his eyes.

  “How strong is your faith?”

  He seemed a little taken aback. “I...I went to church when I was a kid. Probably not as often as I should’ve, but I believe in God.”

  “Evil spirits like this thrive off of despair, and they’ll do anything to drive you toward it. Having some type of hope, or having faith is a safeguard--but you really shouldn’t speak to him, even if he addresses you.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “Yes, but I’m not strong enough to use it to bind him.” I turned and knocked on the door.

  When I heard a woman query us from the other side, I announced Ernest and myself in a firm voice. The door unlocked, and a thin woman with dark hair answered. She greeted us and introduced herself as Alina, before guiding us toward her living room sofa which creaked and groaned when we took a seat on it.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said, twisting the hem of her apron. “Do you want to see her now, or would you like something to drink before you start?”

  “Got any Scotch?” Ernest asked.

  “We’ll see Delana now, thank you.” I motioned to Ernest, and he opened his suit jacket. He placed several items on the coffee table: a flask of holy water, a vial filled with blessed oil (which I had taken it upon myself to infuse with specks of gold), and a white handkerchief. I tied the handkerchief around the palm of my right hand and gave Ernest the water and oil.

  “What’s the handkerchief for?” He doused himself with some of the holy water, and I gestured for him to stop.

  “It’s a relic,” I said, forming a miniature Circle of Protection on my forehead with the oil and following up with the sign of the Cross. “Brande gave it to me a long time ago. He said it touched the remains of St. Margaret...the one whose voice guided Joan of Arc.”

  “I swear that man can find anything.” He faced Alina. “How is your aunt?”

  “She asked to be left alone in her room after breakfast. I heard a terrible noise and...voices, but when I tried to check on her, she had locked herself inside. That’s when I knew to do the signal for the pendant charm. It’s been quiet for a while now, but...”

  I stood and pointed toward the narrow hallway. “Which room is she in?”

  “The second one, on the left.”

  They silently elected me to lead the way. I headed into the hallway and stopped at Delana’s door. I gestured for Ernest to hand me the oil and drew a Cross right at the door. Something that sounded like a wild animal crashed against the door from the other side, and I fell backward.

  With a shaky voice, Alina spoke. “Dela...your friend is here to help you. Can you unlock the door?”

  When we heard the door unlock, I stood and turned the doorknob with my right hand. I slowly pushed the door open with my foot and kept my hand held upright. I lowered it just a little when I saw Delana sitting in the far corner of her bedroom. She was below the windowsill, crouched in a fetal position, and muttering to herself. Her hair fell loose in wild white waves, and her eyes carried that unearthly glow she had when speaking to spirits. I erected the faint glow of Zaman’s fire around me, and told myself that I wouldn’t do the pulsations or ripples--only the fire.

  “Delana, what’s going on?”

  She cried. “Forty years. It’s been forty years, and now I finally feel my mind and will slipping away. I shouldn’t have asked for your help...it’s too late.”

  I shook my head and knelt in front of her, but was careful not to yet make contact. “It’s not too late. You can still win. Did he harass you today? What did he do?”

/>   Her eyes watered. “I haven’t slept for the last three days. He said the moment I closed my eyes, he’d kill me and throw me into Darkness.”

  “He’s just trying to scare you,” I said with a frown. “You have more strength than you think.”

  “What the hell is that?” Ernest stared in horror at a black cat standing on the windowsill, observing us from outside. And it was literally standing. It stood upright on its hind legs, and as soon as I lifted my gaze and spotted it, the cat turned around and ran away--still using only its hind legs.

  “Oh, God help us,” Alina said as she held her hands to her stomach as if in pain.

  Ernest began breathing heavily, and looked like he wanted to vomit. He started pacing back and forth, biting his lower lip and swatting away something that only he could see. I felt like something was on my back, and my muscles instinctively tightened. The back of my neck burned. I knew I had to act quickly, so I took my right hand, swathed in the relic cloth, and placed it on Delana’s forehead. She convulsed and began crying again, and when I felt whatever it was that was on my back grow heavier and start to crush me, I commanded the flames of my fire to emerge and form a protective shield. I felt invisible claws tear into my back.

  “Ernest, go now!” I shouted. I screamed in pain as my eyelids fluttered and the room spun in swirling colors. I heard Ernest’s heavy footsteps fade, before I closed my eyes and hit the floor.

  I no longer heard Delana weeping or Alina gasping prayers. When I opened my eyes, I lifted my head from the hard, cold floor, and saw that I was in Delana’s room--but I was alone. All color in the room, from floor to wallpaper, had been drained. A sickly gray tinge settled over everything. There wasn’t even any furniture, and though the same window still hung there, I could not see out of it--there was nothing but darkness.

  I immediately ignited my fire, spreading it from the center of my being and extending it outward around me. I didn’t know if I hung in between consciousness and unconsciousness, but I was determined to handle any threat that would come my way. I was lying on the floor, frozen in place, when I heard a loud crash against the walls. It seemed to originate from the left side and then the right...from the ceiling, and then against me beneath the floorboards.

  “I want you to leave Delana alone. If you continue to harass her, then I’ll destroy you.” My voice almost jumped an octave at that last declaration.

  I rolled onto my side when I heard a low cry behind me. I turned, then gasped, and covered my mouth with the palm of my hand so that I wouldn’t scream. My friend, Renée, was on the floor across from me, in a prone position. She looked just the way I remembered her, from the black hair with the gray streak, all the way down to the dress and shoes I had last seen her in. I could taste decay exuding from her, and she struggled to peer at me through injured eyes.

  “Isabella,” she said in a weak voice, raising her head. “Is that you?”

  “Renée,” I cried.

  “I waited for you to come back to the safe house that night, but you never returned.”

  “I did come back.” I trembled as I tried to remind myself that this wasn’t her.

  “Agent Karsten returned, and he knew I had helped you. He hurt me, and I died alone.”

  “I...I wanted to come for you, but they were chasing us. I couldn’t go to you.”

  “Where am I, Isabella?” She pulled herself toward me with her arms.

  My limbs felt like rubber as I crawled backward on my hands and knees to keep our distance. Bile rose in my throat when I noticed that both of Renée’s legs were broken. Was this how she died? Is this what she looked like after they murdered her? Ernest was the only one to see her body; he had gone into her house to check on her when we had also found Lucien’s father, Otto, dead.

  “You can save her.” Ammon, still under the guise of Ken, suddenly appeared at my side and pulled me to my feet. He framed my face with his hands, so that I gazed straight into his eyes. “I can show you how to use your powers to go back and fix the past.”

  I placed my hands over his. They felt warm and vibrant. “I can’t go back. I can’t change anything.”

  “I see something differently in your heart. I see doubt.”

  My stomach burned, and dread overcame me, because he was right. I couldn’t lie, at least not to myself. The thought had occurred to me that these powers would be useless if I couldn’t save those I cared about. And what was ignoble or corrupt about that? Renée was a beautiful, strong woman who sacrificed herself for her cause. And then Ken...

  “You’re not even really him,” I said, backing away. I knew it in my mind, but the way he looked, smelled, talked and felt, was exactly the same.

  “Then go back and save him too.” He slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me into an embrace. “You can save me, Renée, and anyone else you desire. If you wanted, you could go and raze your enemies’ fortresses to the ground this very moment. Before their tongues could cry out a warning, you would break the Gray Tower, and make Octavian bend his knee to you. This will be my gift to you.”

  “How...could I go back?” I asked the question before I even realized what I had said. My head began swimming, and I swayed a little.

  He smiled. “I can’t show you if you don’t let me take over first.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head.

  He frowned. “I understand now. You’re glad Ken’s dead because you’re ready to move on to Brande.”

  A flash of anger ran through me and I struck him in the face with my right hand, which still had the relic cloth wrapped around it. He recoiled and snarled at me. I could see the imprint of my strike on the side of his face, and my mind suddenly grew clearer. I summoned Zaman’s Fire, and layered it around me in a protective shield. Ammon stopped at the edge of the fire which surrounded me, and gazed into my eyes. When I saw a frightened look in his expression, I seized on it. “So...you’re afraid of the fire.”

  He gathered his composure and stepped aside to let me view Renée. She still lay on the floor, blind and broken. “Don’t you want to know what happened to me that night, Isabella? How they tortured me and made me suffer? But worst of all, you left me there...alone in the dark.”

  “No!” I shrieked. The fire rose and burned a bright white before diminishing and retreating back into my center. When I tried to ignite it again, I could only obtain that faint glow, as if my emotional outburst had somehow made me blow a fuse.

  Now that I didn’t have the full effect of my protective fire around me, Ammon approached. The gleam of desire was the only thing recognizable in his eyes. When I held up my right palm, with the relic cloth wrapped around it, he hissed, and an invisible force threw me back against the wall. I landed on the floor with a thud, but stood back up and managed to hold my protective hand out to keep him at bay. Renée had disappeared, and Ammon now assumed the form of Ian.

  “Go on,” he said, walking toward me and offering his right cheek. “Hit me again. Show me how much you hate me and want me to die.”

  “I don’t hate Ian, and I don’t want him to die.” I held my right hand up protectively, but didn’t strike at him.

  In a flash, he grabbed my right wrist so that I couldn’t swing at him with the relic cloth, and he began pulling me toward the other side of the room, where the bedroom door stood. As we got closer, the door swung open and revealed a gaping Darkness. “It’ll be easier if you just let go,” he said, pulling me toward the howling black hole. “I’ll still help you save them, but then you must give me whatever I ask from you.”

  I knew that if he got me through that dark doorway, I’d be lost, gone. I couldn’t let it happen. However, I felt so weak, and didn’t even understand why my fire had fizzled, that I couldn’t break away. All I could do was call out for help--either that, or face immediate death. I refused to go past that threshold and experience what he had planned for me. Just as we made it to the door, a rush of energy swept the room, and Ammon backed away. He still held onto me, but his grip loos
ened.

  “She’s not going anywhere with you,” a familiar voice said. I turned my gaze toward the speaker, and my heart leapt in my chest--Ken. In my heart, I felt it was truly him. He stood in front of the dark doorway.

  Ammon released me and flew away as soon as Ken approached. I heard crashes, screams, and several voices, though they all seemed to come from somewhere outside the room. My throat constricted and I tried to speak to Ken, to tell him I was sorry and a million other things, but he held onto me with an urgent look in his eyes.

  “Don’t let him take you through that doorway,” he said. “Keep fighting.”

  “Ken, I--”

  “I know.” He gave me a kiss on the forehead, the same way he did when I had last seen him alive. A sense of peace washed over me. “Help’s here.”

  He disappeared in a flash, and Ammon immediately returned from wherever he had flown off to. He reappeared as a dark figure with wings, taller than a human being, with broad shoulders and red eyes. He came at me again, and I held up my protective hand and charged him. We met with a crash, and he screeched when the relic cloth hit the side of his face. His mouth widened and revealed rows of shattered teeth that gleamed, and the stench of death came from the back of his throat.

  Though my legs shook, and every instinct told me to break away and run, I kept the relic against his face as it tore through his skin like burning acid. I got worried when his gaping mouth became the size of my entire head and he tried to seize me between his teeth, but a strong hand on my shoulder grabbed hold of me and pulled me away. I felt like I was swimming through water. Darkness clouded my vision, and I began to wonder if I had fallen through the doorway.

  The hand on my shoulder jerked me backward again, and then I felt like I was flying. The darkness around me faded to gray, and then became light. I opened my eyes, and I was awake again in Delana’s room.

  I felt the poor woman lying unconscious beneath me. My back was to her as I lay against her motionless body, though I could feel her chest rise and fall in laborious breaths. My eyes widened when I saw all the furniture broken and upturned, the bedroom door hanging on a single hinge, and Delana’s tiny bed against the opposite wall, turned on its side. Alina was on her knees, shaking and reciting a prayer. Ernest sat on the floor, with a gash in his right thigh and a swollen cheek.