The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  I couldn’t even muster a smile for the few people who greeted me in passing. All I could think about was how cold my father could be. How could he have agreed to that? All these years in his absence, before I knew he was alive and not dead, I had built up an idealistic image of my dad. Everything had been arranged around these neat little childhood memories I had of him. And now, learning more about my past, and all the secrets and lies, I began wondering if I even knew him at all--did I still even want to?

  I continued down the street until I reached the public square. With a twinge of envy, I noted a group of people across from me. They were around my age, lounging at a table and laughing with each other. A few couples scattered at other tables were sipping drinks. I came near a man dressed in a fedora and suit; he was reading a newspaper. He cleared his throat and gently grabbed my hand, swirling his thumb in a circular motion against the back of it. He spoke to me in Russian.

  “Please, Isabella, sit and eat with me.”

  I snatched my hand from Lyov Praskovya’s grasp and recoiled as if my hand had brushed against a giant tarantula. Lyov removed his fedora, revealing his neatly coiffed blond hair. He gestured toward the seat across from him in a smug manner. He folded his newspaper and took up his cup of coffee. A plate of chocolates sat in a ceramic bowl in the middle, and two plates of venison, decorated with mushrooms, sat there with knives and forks ready. It disturbed me that everything sitting on the table was exactly what I would’ve ordered. I sneered at him and prepared a spell in my mind, but two uniformed Swiss officers passing by made me hesitate. I believed Master Moreau when he said they were willing to eject us from the embassy and even the country in order to keep peace. I slipped into the chair across from Lyov, imagining a hundred different ways I could end his existence.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” I said in a low voice.

  “I doubt you want the Swiss to expel you from the country. Besides, you’re no match for me. You may be the Drifter, but you have only begun to taste your powers.”

  “Would you like to put that to the test?” I had been training like hell the last few days, and I was ready to introduce him to everything I had learned.

  He took another sip of coffee and looked unconcerned. “Octavian is in my mind this very moment. He’s telling me that your family is asking for you--especially your mother.”

  The mention of her felt like a blow to my stomach. “They had nothing to do with this.”

  He shrugged. “It’s too late...they’re involved. However, I must warn you that Octavian grows impatient. Today he plans to scan their minds for anything that would be of use to him. While I highly respect Octavian, we both know that he’s not a natural born mentalist. When he enters their minds and takes information, it’ll be the equivalent of flaying them.”

  “No...” My shoulders tightened and my stomach ached.

  “Shall I tell him that you’ve agreed to accompany me, alone, to the Den?”

  My breath caught in my throat with both a “No” and “Yes” struggling to spill forth. I wanted my family; I wanted to apologize to my mother and wrap my arms around her, I wanted to protect Johnnie and Rachel. But then I knew that if I gave in to the so-called Dark Philosopher, that not only would it be my ruin, but perhaps the rest of the world’s. Anger pulled at my heart when I finally had to admit that more than just my family was at stake.

  “How much are they worth?” Lyov’s silky voice asked as he studied me. I could already tell he was projecting my next answer and reaction.

  I swallowed. “Tell Octavian that if he harms my family in any way--”

  “I’ll ask him to release them as soon as we step into the Den. You don’t want to miss the opportunity to save them, like you did with Master Lan and that alchemist woman.” His lips curved into a smile.

  My fingers trembled as I reached for the knife next to my plate. The images of Master Lan with the blade in his heart and Christine drained and defiled, flashed before my eyes. I didn’t even bother to answer. He probably already projected how this conversation would end.

  His smug grin remained as he watched me grip the knife. “Need I remind you that the Swiss authorities will not tolerate--”

  “Go to hell.” I cast a Circadian Circle and lunged over the table, aiming the point of the knife toward his right eye. The entire public square fell into slow motion without me having to expand the Circle. I was certain that the point of the knife would hit its target, but right when I told him to go to hell, he spoke a string of Words in a grating voice that made my ears buzz, and my arm flew up at a seventy-five degree angle so that the knife sliced into air instead of his head.

  He was already speaking another string of Words. In slow motion, he swerved and backed away while I tried to catch my balance. I may have been able to move faster than him, but I had made the mistake of putting too much force into my thrust and landed on the table. I saw Lyov making a vertical strike with the blade of his hand, his face straining with effort as he tried to time the sluggish strike faster than the Circadian Circle would allow.

  I rolled off the table at normal speed as an invisible force lifted the table upward. I rose to my feet, rushing toward him as his hand still made a downward strike. The table flipped forward and smashed against me. I fell back with the table on top of me, its crushing weight pressing down on my chest. My insides churned when I heard him speak another Word, and I used all my strength to push the table off me and get back into a standing position.

  From my peripheral I noticed the patrons who had been sitting in the public square with us. Some of them fled at a snail’s pace away from Lyov and me, their mouths hanging open in long drawn out screams, while others hid inside nearby cafés, staring through the windows with widened eyes.

  Lyov approached me head-on, his hands outstretched and another string of Words echoing from his throat. My ears continued buzzing and my head began throbbing, but I raised my hand and brought forth a shield of Fire just as he produced an eerie dark flame of his own. Our fires crashed against each other in tumultuous opposing waves, but mine overpowered his, and he recoiled. The throbbing in my head spread and made me shudder, and my limbs shook as fatigue gripped me. I clenched my teeth and relinquished the Circle, throwing my weight into a jab that connected with Lyov’s nose. His head bobbed backward from the force of the punch, but he quickly recovered and reciprocated with a strike to my middle.

  An explosion of pain ran through my stomach as I felt the air get knocked out of me. I doubled over and slipped to the ground, swiping the knife near my foot in a smooth motion. I jumped to my feet and brought the blade right against his neck. I would’ve gladly used it to cut into his flesh, except that he had mirrored my action and held his own blade at my neck. We both breathed heavily, holding our blades against each other’s skin with iron resolve, not even daring to blink. People still ran for cover, and a few even started calling for the police.

  “I don’t think your boss would like it if you sliced up the Drifter.” My breaths were labored and heavy.

  His nostrils flared. “Octavian wants you alive, not necessarily in one piece.”

  I swung my free hand in order to strike him, but he blocked it. I clenched my teeth. “Put your knife away.”

  “I told you that you weren’t a match for me.”

  I heard a Word spoken, but it wasn’t Lyov who uttered it. Whatever it was, he must’ve understood what was being called down on him, because his eyes widened with fear and he pulled away. He dropped his knife and his right hand stiffened as it took on a gray tinge. It froze, turning hard, like a stone statue. Lyov countered with a spell of his own and grunted in pain as his stone hand cracked. He spoke another Word, and a bright flash swept him away.

  “Isabella!” My father rushed toward me and I turned to face him. The buzzing in my ears had stopped, but my head still throbbed.

  “Dad...”

  With a frightened expression, he enveloped me in his arms and ushered me away from the
gawking crowd. I could hear police sirens blaring and rushing toward the public square. My father reached out toward me with his magic and began reading me. When he found no serious injuries, his expression softened and he spoke.

  “Everything about that door...forget it. Forget it all. I never intended you to go through it, and, on my life, you won’t.”

  My knees buckled, and he caught me. We turned down an alley and headed toward the street where the Tower embassy stood. “Do you really mean that?”

  He nodded. “I’ll do anything I can. You won’t go through that door...I’d die first.”

  62

  Moreau’s right eye twitched, and his lips pressed into a thin line. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased with my duel in the public square. Instead of sitting on the edge of his desk and pouring drinks with a cryptic smile, he sat across from me in his leather chair, elbows on the mahogany surface and hands pressed to his chin as if he’d been smacked. My father stood behind me, quiet and alert. The only move he made was to place a firm hand on my shoulder as a show of support.

  Master Moreau stuttered, “Exactly what part of do not engage in public battle did you not understand?”

  I crossed my arms. “You should’ve been there. Do you know what Lyov is like?”

  Moreau removed his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. “The police chief just called--he’s on his way. He leads a special international unit in the city that investigates public disturbances of this nature. He has the authority to expel us. Perhaps he’ll shuttle you away and out of my life.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Sorry to disrupt your cozy life here in your mansion, but in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on and the Gray Tower has been destroyed.”

  “And it makes my job all the more difficult when you flagrantly disregard my requests!” His voice rose as he slammed his hands down onto the table. “What do you suppose will happen if we lose this embassy? Or worse, what if you’re caught and handed over to the enemy? Believe me, there are Nazi spies and warlocks in this city as well. What if the local authorities decide to refuse hospitality to any other Tower wizard who comes this way because they’ve seen what you could do? Have you considered that, or are you only concerned with your personal vendettas?”

  My father spoke up. “We understand, Felix, and we appreciate what you’ve done for us. Lyov Praskovya murdered several Order members and is clearly tracking us. You know what the Dark Philosopher is like.”

  Moreau grimaced, perhaps reminiscing an unpleasant past encounter with Lyov. I tasted the sweet metallic essence of gold, and my gaze went directly toward the small key sitting on his desk. It looked like it would perfectly fit into the lock on his bookshelf with the warded compartment. I wondered what was in there. He noticed me staring at the key and threw some papers over it. He fixed his gaze on me.

  “The police chief will be here any minute. Why don’t you try making yourself scarce for the next few hours.”

  My father squeezed my shoulder. “Isabella, I have something to discuss with Master Moreau. I’ll see you shortly.”

  I stared into my dad’s eyes, wondering if I had disappointed him by losing control earlier. Whether or not I wanted to admit it, Moreau was right--my fight had caused trouble, perhaps for other wizards who needed sanctuary in this region. “Dad, I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be. We’ll take care of this, don’t worry.”

  “How touching,” Moreau said. “We can all hug each other when we’re shackled at the police station with imperium collars around our necks.”

  I ignored his comment and left the office, closing the door behind me. I went downstairs, past the receptionist and through the hallway that led to the guest wing, wondering all the while how scarce Moreau wanted me to be.

  “Now you know how I felt that night I fought that warlock, Klaus.” Brande threw his arm over my shoulder, squishing me close to him and allowing me to breathe in his scent.

  I wanted to shove him and tell him that our situations were different, but I decided to leave it alone. I leaned my head on his shoulder, my fingers intertwined with his as we sat together on a small couch in the corner of the basement storage room. We watched Joran Macaskill spar with Cliff and Sadik; everyone else had taken off to the inner courtyard to enjoy the sunshine and eat lunch. Moreau now restricted everyone from leaving the embassy without his permission. The Order member who hosted our other group of wizards just a few houses down had called to report that twenty more wizards had arrived and were ready to stand with us as soon as we used the talisman to teleport to the Den.

  Our army was growing.

  Cathana Erin came in with Gregory and Izsak. The two men sat on a couple of large crates in the corner near me and watched Cliff and Sadik try to beat Joran into submission with their practice swords. The boys made calculated strikes and thrusts, while Joran evaded them and threw in a few taunts.

  “How are you, Master Erin?” I asked Cathana.

  Her eyes were brighter and more alert. She wore her long red hair down and loose. “I’m well rested. I wanted to grab this fellow here for lunch.” She gestured toward Joran.

  He gazed at her and smiled. “I’ll be right there, Cat.”

  Sadik struck Joran on the arm with his practice sword, and he flinched. Cliff laughed and said, “That was cheating.”

  All the same, Sadik looked pleased to have gotten in a hit--even if the match was over. “By the way, congratulations.” He nodded toward Joran and Cathana.

  “For what?” I asked, gazing at them.

  “They’re married.”

  I sat there with my mouth gaping. “When did this happen?”

  “A story for another time,” Joran said with just a hint of a smile. He approached Cathana and took her hand in his, and then gestured toward Cliff and Sadik. “Let’s eat...we can spar again later.”

  The boys waved to Brande and me, then left the room. Izsak jumped off his crate and cradled his notes in his arms. “Ready for your lessons?”

  “Yes.” I stood and walked a few paces over to the center of the room. I took a deep breath and effortlessly cast a Circadian Circle.

  “Amazing,” Gregory said in a nearly breathless voice. I could feel his magic prodding at my Circle.

  Izsak consulted one of his pages and cleared his throat. “Gregory, are you ready?”

  “I think so,” he answered, jumping to his feet and approaching the center of the room. He stood just a few feet across from me.

  Izsak explained, “We’ve focused on the rifts and on applying the Circle to bodies. Now, I want you to apply your Circle to magical auras.”

  “Are you sure?” I eyed Gregory and remembered his broken aura. There was no mistake he possessed formidable magic, but it seemed to surge one moment and then pull back like a tide the next. When the others had sensed Gregory’s broken aura--and inquired about it--they were shocked to learn about his past, and, at first, were a little uneasy around him. However, his humble demeanor, and the fact that he was often in the company of Father Gabriel, calmed the tension. I had also spoken up on Gregory’s behalf, remembering when he had saved me, back at the warehouse in Zagreb when Ammon had attacked.

  “Cast your Circle. I’ll be fine.” Gregory stood ready.

  “Okay...” I reached out with my magic, using the Circadian Circle to heighten my senses. Not only did I feel Gregory’s magical aura, but I could also see it. A thin gray film outlined his body and clung to him. A faint blue glow mingled with the gray and extended a few inches outward.

  Izsak spoke. “Now, disrupt his aura, Isabella.”

  I frowned at Gregory, but he nodded and stretched out his arms. “Do it.”

  Precision. I had to use precision. My magic flew toward him in bright jags and hit him like bolts of lightning. He dropped to his knees, clenching his teeth and shuddering. The blue light in his aura swirled and faded into the gray outline. “Are you okay, Gregory?”

  He nodde
d and sputtered a laugh. “I haven’t been hit that hard by anyone in quite a while.”

  “Brande,” Izsak thumbed through another few pages. “You’ll be my next volunteer.”

  “Volunteer?” He sat upright. I nearly sighed at the sight of his magical aura, an orange-yellow that glowed like the setting sun dancing on a thin silver outline.

  Izsak issued his next instruction. “Isabella, tap into his aura and take some of his energy.”

  Trepidation filled me at hearing this, but I did as he said. Brande sat on the couch with his eyebrow raised, clearly not intending to be as cooperative as Gregory. He gave me his most mischievous I dare you smile. At first, I caressed Brande’s aura with a tendril of energy, treading carefully so that I wouldn’t shock him. He leaned back and crossed his arms, as if telling me he was waiting for something spectacular to happen. Then, he yawned.

  I narrowed my eyes, turning my soft tendril of energy into a razor sharp line that latched onto his aura and siphoned a burst of magical energy from him. His aura flared, and he jumped to his feet with an impressive amount of speed. With a grunt, he cast off my tendril and it flicked back toward me like a rubber band. A wave of magic ran through me, and I felt energized and stronger. I didn’t know how to remain attached to someone once I latched on, or what to do if they pushed away my tendril like Brande had just done. However, Izsak still looked pleased at what I was able to do.

  “Well done!” Izsak gave a wide grin.

  “You’re growing stronger every day.” Gregory gave me a nod of approval.

  Brande approached me with a wry smile. At first I couldn’t tell if he wanted to kiss me or whack me with a counterspell. “Congratulations.”

  “I still need to do this a few more times.” I let him pull me toward him, and I threw my arms around his neck, giving him my most apologetic expression.

  “Before this gets awkward,” Izsak said, “I’m going up to the courtyard for lunch.” He arranged his notes and faced us. “Brande, you might want to eat as well and regain some energy. You may not feel it immediately, but physical fatigue will set in.”