The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  My breath caught in my throat, and my stomach burned at the thought of the mysterious doorway which seemed to lead only to darkness. The door I had asked my father about at the church, his only response silent fear. I bit my lower lip. “My father would never allow anyone to harm me.”

  He shook his head in a pitying manner. “I know it hurts like hell to get a Veil. How old were you when they first cast it over you?”

  A flood of emotions, some that I didn’t even think I harbored, began running through me like the powerful flow of a river. With a deep breath, I quieted the storm and tried speaking from the facts. “They needed to Veil me in order to conceal my powers and protect me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And how many memories did Daddy and friends erase or alter from your mind? You don’t even know everything they did to you--all in the name of protecting you, of course.”

  My eyes burned. I didn’t know if I was reacting to what he was saying or the realization that I had some of the very same questions. I raised an accusing finger at him. “This is about you. Not me.”

  He held his hands up, palms facing forward, in acquiescence. “You’re right, and I don’t like sharing a connection with Octavian any more than you do. That’s why I think we need to kill him. Preferably, as soon as possible.”

  “We’re already on it.”

  He shifted in his seat. “I mean you and me.”

  “How?”

  “I think I can use this connection to our advantage. It can lead us to the Den. We can go in and destroy Octavian and his ilk before they even know what hit them.”

  I crossed my arms and shuddered. The last time I had heard something like that, Ammon tried to convince me that he could destroy the Gray Tower and make Octavian my servant, if only I let him take over my mind and body. “Master Skye...where’s Brande?”

  He smirked. “He’s preoccupied at the moment. Now, are we going to do this?”

  I managed to keep a calm expression despite the fact that I began breaking into a sweat. “What if I turned down your offer?”

  He sneered and said in a cold voice, “I would be extremely unforgiving.”

  The door opened and Izsak stepped in with his collection of papers and a suitcase. The moment he entered the room, he let out a shriek and began convulsing. The papers and luggage slipped from his grasp, and he fell to the floor. His entire face swelled, and his cheeks and lips were stained with an unnatural greenish tint.

  “He wasn’t a threat to you!” I shouted at Skye, rushing toward Izsak and kneeling beside him. I could finally sense the meticulous traps Skye had set up at the doorway to ensnare anyone who entered. I placed a hand on Izsak’s chest. His heart pounded frantically against his rib cage.

  “It won’t kill him.” Skye rose from his seat.

  Rage washed over me, almost making my limbs rigid. I stood, gathered my will, and cast a Circadian Circle. It would be the only way I could subdue him. Skye felt it, and a plume of shimmering black smoke rose from his head and shoulders in response. Our magic crashed against each other, knocking us both off our feet. The glass panels in the double doors shattered, and a whirlwind of energy buffeted us like a windstorm, sending me flying backward and slamming me against the wall.

  Across from me, the other entire half of the sitting room was engulfed in a shimmering black cloud, and the only thing visible was a pair of yellow slits, hovering seven feet high. A loud snort sent two tendrils of the black smoke flying toward me, and I instinctively eyed the door to my left, wondering if it had been a wise choice to confront him like this.

  I cast another spell. I could feel when the Circadian Circle hit the dragon, its energy penetrating his scales and clinging to his muscles, constraining his movements. He shrieked in response and reciprocated with a paralysis spell that knocked me down as I tried to run for the door. My face hit the tile floor, and my arms froze at my sides. I saw the dragon slowly emerge from the shimmering black smoke, swirling with his powerful, but tainted magic, and he swatted the sofa aside as if it were a child’s toy sitting on the floor. The dragon shuddered and reared his head. Blood dripped from his nose as he fought against the disruption the Circadian Circle caused to his body. Apparently he wasn’t yet at full strength.

  Shrieking in frustration, the dragon sent a shockwave of magic toward me, a spell meant to deliver pain. Before the attack hit me, Signor Alighieri rushed in with a look of determination on his aged face, emitting a bright light from his hands. The shimmering black smoke immediately disappeared, and the dragon’s shockwave of magic crashed against Alighieri’s shield.

  As soon as I felt my limbs loosen, I rose to my feet. I was just about to cast another Circadian Circle when the flames from the fireplace roared with ferocity and flew out toward the dragon. He threw up a shield and flew backward, crashing through the double doors and disappearing into the dark outside.

  Brande stumbled through the doorway, his shirt stained with blood and his eyes fixed on the fire he had just commanded to engulf the dragon. Breathing heavily through his mouth, Brande ignored everything and everyone except the gaping hole across from us which led outside. When he was satisfied that the Black Dragon had departed, he turned toward me, and I could see the silent promise he made with a single look: The next time I see him, I’m going to kill him.

  Signor Alighieri helped coax Izsak out of unconsciousness, and I dashed into the kitchen and gathered some medicinal herbs. I quickly mixed an alchemical brew that would help settle the librarian’s stomach as his body reacted to Skye’s illness-inducing spell.

  “Drink the whole thing. It’ll keep you from vomiting.” I rubbed Izsak’s back while he grasped the cup with his large hands and gulped down the brew.

  “I imagine that I can leave this part out of my autobiography. Who wants to read about vomiting?”

  “No talking. Just drink.” I made sure he finished it off before taking the cup and setting it aside.

  Brande came in. He had finally completed his Circle of Protection around the property. The housekeeper approached with a clean shirt for Brande. He gratefully accepted it and peeled off his bloodied shirt, exchanging it for the new one.

  I faced Alighieri. “Signor, I am very sorry about what happened. When this is all over, we are willing to pay--”

  He shook his head and gestured for me to stop speaking. “This wasn’t your fault. The Black Dragon could have done far worse than ruin my sitting room. You can take my great-nephew’s car.”

  “No...Signor...”

  “I gave your father the car you came in, and now you’re car-less. Take my nephew Damiano’s car, and go to Switzerland. All I ask is that you let me know what has become of him, if you are able.”

  I went over and embraced him. “I will. I’m so sorry.”

  “Stay safe, and be good. You’re the only Drifter we have.”

  And that’s partly why this was so damned hard.

  “Izsak, how are you?” I placed a hand on his sweaty forehead. I sat in the backseat with him, holding an extra flask of my alchemical brew and watching his every breath and movement.

  “Better,” he said in a weak voice.

  “If you want...I’d understand if you wanted to go somewhere safe once we crossed the border. I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

  “Nonsense. I would’ve been in the hands of warlocks if you hadn’t rescued me at the police station. Besides...you need me.”

  I smiled, ignoring the twinge of guilt that hit me. “Just take it easy. You’re doing a fantastic job, but you can’t help me if you’re not well.”

  Brande drove the car in silence, though I could still detect the sheer wrath rolling off him. He was probably cursing Skye a thousand times over in his mind. He said that when he had gone to cast the Circle of Protection around Alighieri’s property that Skye ambushed him and entangled him in a web of spells. He had to break down the spells line by line. If he countered the wrong line at the wrong time, his entire body would be thrown into excruciating pain.
He said that, at times, the pain caused him to bleed from his nose, which explained the blood on his old shirt.

  I felt terrible that it had to come to this, but I didn’t think I would stand in Brande’s way if he and Skye confronted one another again. Skye may not have betrayed us, but he was too wild and dangerous. Who knew if the next spell launched against us would be a deadly one? What if Skye’s next conversation with Octavian would seduce him to cross over to the other side?

  My thoughts reluctantly turned toward what he had said about my father and the doorway. Although I wouldn’t admit it to anyone but myself, it did bother me how my dad reacted to my question. If that dream-memory was accurate, then whatever lay beyond that door was nothing good, certainly not sunshine and rainbows. Yet they told me I would need to go through, as if it were my destiny. But what would happen if I did that? The Philosopher, Ekwueme, told me that I’d be the only Drifter they would allow to live, but maybe I was only to live for a specific purpose before being disposed of.

  If the Order called in the dead of night, he would answer; if the Masters wanted him to bring them our little girl, he did it...My mother’s words played over again in my mind, and a painful doubt gnawed at me. Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall, I refused to feel helpless.

  “Checkpoint,” Brande said in a low voice as he slowed the car. Signor Alighieri had warned us about Mussolini’s men at the border, ready to scrutinize people heading across to Switzerland. However, when I tasted the presence of imperium gold, I knew that this particular checkpoint was meant for us.

  A fully equipped watchtower stood adjacent to the road, an affront to what should’ve been a scenic route of hills and mountain terrain. Fixed lights shone down from the watchtower, giving sight to the military men since it was still late at night. At least two armed soldiers stood atop the tower, while several more guarded the road.

  “Warlocks are with them.” Brande’s jaw tightened. He could already detect the stench of their tainted magic. “Maybe if I turn around and take another route--”

  “Keep driving, Brande,” I said in a steady voice, despite my trembling arms and half-delirious mind.

  Brande threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Izsak. “Do you think if we--”

  “Too late.” I pointed toward one of the warlocks. He stood near the watchtower and readied his elemental magic.

  I cast a Circadian Circle, my very first one over an entire open area like this. My body vibrated with the concentration of pure magical energy coursing through my veins. I directed my power toward the warlock and the other two men at the watchtower, and they fell unconscious. Three more soldiers, at the foot of the tower, howled in pain and grabbed their heads before collapsing. The soldiers in the military jeep aimed their weapons at us, their movements slow and laborious as they tried to resist the Circle. I sent my Fire crashing down on them, and a great ball of fire erupted into an explosion, sending smoke into the air. Brande sped up, and we whizzed down the road, past the watchtower and destroyed jeep. A couple of stragglers, coughing and heaving, eyed us in astonishment.

  We were clear for about fifty feet when we saw a secondary checkpoint up ahead, with more soldiers, a tank, and two German trekkers. I kept hold of my previous Circle and expanded it, closing my eyes and feeding it with all my energy, frustration, and magic. I felt light and airy, and my limbs grew warm with the vibrations. Brande called my name and brought the car to a screeching halt. I opened my eyes and realized that my skin glowed with the familiar iridescence that warned of the onset of Zaman’s Fire.

  I doubted it would be a good idea to remain inside while burning with the Fire, and so I jumped out of the backseat and landed on my hands and knees. My head throbbed as I stood, and the flames licked my skin, rippling like an aura around me. With a single thought, everything around me spun, and in an instant, I stood among the tank and trekkers. The flames of my Fire leapt to the left and right, scorching the vehicles and trapping the men inside in an inferno. Some of the other men took off and ran. A prickly stench hit my nose, and I realized that the Circle had enhanced my five senses. I tasted a few more warlocks nearby, and spotted them just ahead with weapons drawn and their magic ready: a mentalist, another elemental, and an enchanter.

  The elemental cast his spell first, causing the temperature around me to drop as icy shards formed above me and struck. My Fire shot out and devoured the ice. I extended my hand toward the elemental, using the Circle to hone in on his magic. I deflected an incoming mental invasion from the mentalist and clenched my hands. The gesture I made helped me grab hold of the elemental’s magical aura and use it against him. He screeched and shuddered when icy shards emerged from his head, taking out his eyes and bursting through his nose. Blood dripped from his face, and he fell to his knees. My fingers tingled, and the air grew dense as I felt Brande’s magic at work. He came from behind and hit the enchanter and mentalist with fire and wind. The men spun into the air like flying torches and landed nearly a hundred feet away.

  Izsak pulled up alongside us and blared the horn. “More soldiers are coming in from the west. Get in!”

  Brande and I got into the car, and we took off. He took my quivering hand in his own and stared into my eyes. “Are you all right?”

  I let out a low breath. “I’m tired.”

  I wondered if it would frighten him if I said I was holding back and could do much more. Instead, I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. He was my last place of refuge in all this pain and bloodshed.

  61

  Geneva, Switzerland

  The sun rose just as we made it into Geneva, Switzerland. Izsak drove us as close as he could to the city center before parking. The long winding streets toward the older part of the city were too narrow for cars. Exhausted, we made our way to the part of the neighborhood where large mansions lined the street and almost crowded one another. We immediately detected the Gray Tower ambassador’s mansion--it was the only warded building with two Elite wizards standing sentinel at the front door.

  A flash of anger ran through me as I wondered if the wizard here ever worried over any of us or tried to do anything on the Tower’s behalf, or if he just sat in his brick mansion here, in neutral territory, comfortable and untouched by the bloodshed and suffering. With a sigh, I told myself to put aside such thoughts. I had plenty of others to be angry with--most of all the enemies who started all this.

  “May I help you?” The red-haired wizard on the left, in his black double-breasted uniform jacket, observed us. He was already reaching out with his senses and reading us. His companion, a man with thick black hair, stood across from him on the right side, hands folded behind his back.

  Brande answered, “We’re here to see the ambassador.”

  The Elite, with his round face and sparkling blue eyes, seemed satisfied with his probe. “Well, it’s good to see you. Your friends arrived only an hour ago.”

  I squeezed Brande’s hand in a gesture of relief. The others had made it. “Thank you,” I said.

  The Elite placed his hand on the handle, lowering the ward for us and ushering us through the doorway. I turned to Izsak and gave him an encouraging smile. He carried his papers and a book beneath his arm, and exhaled as if returning home from a hard day’s work. He gave me a nod to indicate that he was starting to feel better.

  We came upon the receptionist at the front desk, and Cathana Erin stood there with her, sipping from a steaming mug. The Master Alchemist smiled when she saw us, and said in her Irish accent, “We were starting to get worried. I know you must be exhausted.”

  “I slept a little on the way over. How are you?”

  Cathana lifted her cup. “Made myself a little brew to stay alert and watch out for you. Most everyone is asleep.”

  I nodded and turned to Izsak. “You should get some rest as well.”

  The receptionist eyed him with pity. “Right this way, sir. I’ll walk you over to the guest wing.”

  “Thank you.” He gave a g
rateful sigh and followed her through a set of ornate double doors.

  Brande turned to Cathana. “Are we the last of the group to arrive?”

  She nodded. “We’re all accounted for, now that you’re here.”

  “Who’s the ambassador here?” This was important to know, because I didn’t want to deal with a wizard who thought I was an abomination and needed to die.

  “Master Felix Moreau, an enchanter.”

  “And does he know about Isabella?”

  Cathana eyed me. “Yes, in fact, he wants to meet you in private.”

  Brande looked ready to object, but I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be fine.”

  “We’ve told Master Moreau everything, and he will not harm her,” Cathana assured him.

  Tension still clung to his voice. “And what about the talisman? Have you spoken with Moreau about it?”

  “We’ve already contacted MI6 in London, and they’re flying a courier over with the talisman.”

  He nodded. “I’ll go speak with the others from our group. We need to get started on a plan on how we’re going to assault the Den.”

  “Very well.” Cathana gestured toward the double doors. “Straight down the hall, and make a right at the end.”

  He headed through the doors just as the receptionist returned. She asked if she could get me anything, but I declined, and followed Cathana up the winding staircase that led to the Gray Tower ambassador’s offices. We stopped at a large warded door, and Cathana knocked three times. The door unlocked of its own accord, and she pushed it open, letting me in.

  I hid the expression of shock that nearly overcame me when I saw the interior of the ambassador’s office. Instead of a room reminiscent of an aristocrat’s study, his office was quite spartan. He sat at a mahogany desk, perhaps the only expensive item in here, and behind him stood a large bookshelf holding texts ranging from philosophy and politics to magic. A second bookshelf stood to the right, and I immediately picked up on a ward that protected a compartment in the middle. It had a sliding door that required a key. Some of his credentials hung on the wall to our right, and the left side was bare. Master Moreau kept scribbling away on a sheet of paper, not even bothering to look up. His thin frame leaned over the desk, and his round spectacles contrasted with his thick mustache and narrow chin. His hair was cut short, perhaps to blend with the balding middle, and he looked more, to me, like a company manager or college professor than a Master Enchanter and ambassador.