The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  A question suddenly arose in my mind. “I’ll join you guys upstairs--Gregory, can I ask you something?”

  Brande and Izsak left and closed the door. I motioned for Gregory to come near. “You never told me what made you stop being a Cruenti.”

  He lowered his gaze. “I wouldn’t blame you for thinking ill of me. It was a long time ago, but...I drained my own family, and it cursed me.”

  My spine stiffened, and I resisted the urge to cringe. I didn’t know what to say, and I tried reaching for something at least remotely positive to tell him. “But you had an exorcism, and you turned away from that life. Are there many people like you? Former Cruenti?”

  He sighed. “There are a few of us, but we don’t necessarily go around drawing attention to ourselves. I feel as if a part of me has been taken away that can never be returned.”

  The blood pact a person made with a demon to become a Cruenti was a strong one. While I had heard of old-fashioned possession and lesser bindings being broken through exorcism, I hadn’t really heard of it happening with a Cruenti blood pact. Gregory certainly was a puzzle to me at times. He carried a crucifix and prayed with Father Gabriel. He was quiet and humble, was ready to help others--like Cliff and Sadik, who needed shelter that day from the warlock, Dierk. He had helped me as well.

  He nodded, and finally lifted his gaze. “What I have done in the past can’t be undone, but I seek forgiveness every day.” His eyes look tired, as if he had seen the worst of life and just wanted to lie down and die.

  “I’m sorry about your family.”

  He looked surprised when I offered him my hand, but he took it in his and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  We headed into the hallway and up the stairwell that led to the first floor. However, when we opened the door and stepped into the mansion, I nearly crashed into a tall man in a black suit. He had a gray mustache, cropped hair, and piercing blue eyes. He stared at me for a moment before speaking.

  “I presume this is Isabella?” He turned toward Master Moreau, who stood just a few feet away.

  “Yes, sir.” Moreau gave his displeased thin-lipped expression again as the tall man turned back around to face me.

  “Good afternoon, Isabella. I’m Chief Valentin. My division deals with disturbances in the city by wizards. I’ve been inquiring about what took place in the public square earlier today, and I’d like you to accompany me down to the station.”

  “To the station?” I repeated.

  “Yes, to the station.”

  The tone of his voice was friendly, but his eyes warned that if I refused--there’d be hell to pay.

  63

  I drew in a deep breath, choosing my words carefully and focusing on avoiding aggravating the Swiss police. “Master Moreau had nothing to do with the fight in the public square. I take full responsibility for it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So you admit that you’re at fault?”

  He made it sound much worse than what it was. I was practically doing the world a favor by trying to slice up the Dark Philosopher. “It’s...a little more complicated than that. I’d be happy to explain it to you.”

  “Then would you mind accompanying me? Just to talk, of course.”

  Moreau stepped in. “Sir, she is a member of the Order, and this is our chancery.”

  Valentin shot him a stern gaze. “And diplomatic immunity applies only to you and your staff which resides here. It does not extend to her or the other wizards you’ve been gathering under this roof. Don’t think I’ve been blind to your actions.” He gestured toward me. “Miss George, shall we?”

  I felt Gregory stir behind me, but I turned and gave him an assuring nod. “I’ll be fine,” I said to both him and Moreau.

  Valentin fell into step with me as we rounded a corner and went down the hallway toward the front. The receptionist wasn’t at her desk, but my father stood there waiting for us. He sidled next to me, and Valentin seemed resigned to the fact that my dad would be staying at my side. We exited through the front, passed the two Elites posted at the door, and got inside the police car waiting for us.

  “Don’t be afraid,” my father said in a low voice. He sat next to me, his eyes focused on an unseen target.

  “What should we do?” I asked in a hushed voice. An officer got into the driver seat and Valentin into the passenger side. My dad regarded me with a look that told me to wait. I knew that he wouldn’t want a fight unless it was absolutely necessary.

  The car took off, and we were gone.

  Valentin set a cup of coffee in front of me and grinned. He brought his own cup to his mouth before taking a sip and stood across from me, dissecting me with his blue eyes. The bulb above us flickered, casting a re-appearing shadow over his face. I tried to ignore the revulsion I felt at the sharp prickly scent of blood. Though they had run through the room with cleaning supplies and mops, I could still taste the metallic residue of human blood in this space. If this “interview” didn’t go well, my dad and I would have to fight and run.

  Valentin could smile and offer coffee all he liked, but we both knew I didn’t have a choice. Either I had to come down and answer his questions, and possibly be detained, or else he’d punish Moreau and the other wizards. To make matters worse, Joshua Morton was due soon--with that talisman that we needed to teleport to the Den.

  The police chief cleared his throat. “Your father is comfortable out front. I told him that I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  I wrapped my fingers around the coffee cup and breathed in its scent. It smelled like heaven. I quickly reached out with my senses, just to make sure no potions were thrown in, and I finally took a sip. “Lyov Praskovya was in Zagreb only a few days ago, and he wanted to stop us from reaching Switzerland or anywhere else. He must’ve anticipated I’d be here.”

  He brushed his mustache with his hand and drank more coffee. “He’s a dangerous warlock. Why would you risk fighting him?”

  If I had to explain about Mom, Johnnie, and Rachel, I’d start bawling. “I don’t go around seeking fights, but I know how to stand up for myself...unlike some people.”

  He set his cup down and approached. “All of the lives both sides have destroyed, and now they’ve put wizards and warlocks into it...are we supposed to rush in and have our people slaughtered?”

  “Okay, I understand that you and whoever else just want to stay safe and away from all the hell that’s raging. Fine. But unless you’re going to arrest me, I’d like you to save your lectures for someone else and let me go.”

  Someone knocked on the door from the other side and Valentin admitted him. A young officer with dark brown hair stepped in. He whispered something to Valentin, and the chief nodded.

  “There’s a phone call I must take. Please, excuse me.” Valentin left, gestured for the officer to remain at the door and left it open.

  “Hello,” I said to him, noting his nametag. His name was Valentin as well, and if that weren’t a dead giveaway, he had the same vibrant blue eyes as the chief.

  He clasped his hands behind his back and flashed a nervous smile. “Good afternoon.”

  “Am I allowed to go to the restroom?”

  He let out a low breath and looked over his shoulder as if expecting the chief to return at any second. “I...I think we’ll wait until he returns.”

  “Oh, I see...” I put on my most crestfallen expression. “I should’ve asked your father when he was here. I suppose it was silly of me to ask someone who’s just tagging along.”

  His jaw tightened. “I wouldn’t describe my position here as just tagging along. I’m one of six officers here, and if the war keeps going, then there’ll be even more joining our new division.”

  I sighed. “You don’t have to explain it to me. I know what it’s like trying to live up to your father’s expectations.”

  “What makes you think I’m doing that?” The tone of his voice indicated that my statement bothered him.<
br />
  I waved my hand dismissively. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. It’s the same with my father--he tells me what to do and I do it, just like that, all the while wondering if it was good enough. When the chief comes back, I’ll ask him if I can go to the ladies’ room.”

  He bit his lip and looked over his shoulder again. He faced me with resolve. “I’ll walk you over there and then bring you back.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  I jumped from my seat and let him follow me down the hall. Valentin Jr. stood aside to let me into the restroom, but made it clear that he would stay just outside the door. I went in and closed the door behind me, counting to three and then doing the internal pulsations, matching them with the beating of my heart so I could stop time. I opened the door and stepped out, glancing at the younger Valentin standing like a statue to my left, hands folded behind his back and wearing a wide-eyed expression.

  I made a right and headed down the hall, then made a left at the next corner. I went past a lunchroom and a few offices until I reached the elder Valentin’s. The door stood ajar and allowed me to catch a glimpse of his tall frame. I let go of the pulsations, and his frozen body moved again at normal speed; He paced back and forth as he spoke on the phone. I kept out of view and listened.

  “I have both of them at the station and...yes, I understand. You’re at the inn down the street? Well the sooner you come and get them, the better. No...no...listen, I’m the chief here, and I’m doing you a favor. Come and get them.”

  My heart clenched in my chest at the chief’s words, and Master Moreau’s warning about warlocks being in the city came to mind. What if Chief Valentin really did intend to hand us over to the enemy? I gulped and rushed past a few more offices, but I halted when I felt the warm tingle of magic oozing from a closed door on my right. I opened it and saw a rift. It looked like the one I had seen in Italy. It was bright and pulsated with raw power. I slowly approached it, and my earlier question came to mind. What could be on the other side?

  I stretched out my hand, my fingers trembling, and touched the brightness of the open rift. Shimmering colors rose from the rift like steam, and a breeze filled the room. Oddly, I caught a glimpse of a pasture and a large tree on the other side. Then, a shadow flitted across the rift. Just as I was pulling my hand away, the shadow figure reached through and grabbed my wrist. It burned.

  “Let go,” I gasped.

  I wasted no time in casting a Circadian Circle and using my precise hand movements to slash at the shadow being. It grunted and released me, pushing itself back into the other side. With a flourish of my hand, the rift diminished and closed.

  When I was certain it was sealed shut, I left the room and headed toward the reception area, where my father sat on a wooden bench lining the wall to the right. The officer at the desk lost himself in paperwork and scribbled every few seconds, and two more stood near my father. I could taste the essence of imperium gold and was certain both of the men guarding my dad carried collars.

  “Dad,” I called to him. I gave him a cryptic nod to let him know that things weren’t working out in our favor, and we needed to leave.

  When the two officers with my father saw me walking around without an escort, they started toward me, but my dad placed his hands on their shoulders, spoke a Word, and they fell to the ground unconscious. I turned toward the officer at the reception desk and brought down a Circadian Circle that disrupted his consciousness and caused him to faint.

  My father gazed at me. “They’re stalling. Is the chief holding us for someone?”

  “Yeah, and I don’t want to stick around to find out who that someone is.”

  Suddenly, the entire building rocked and swayed, and I slid and fell onto my side. It felt like an earthquake hit us, except that waves of magic, dense and warm, flowed through the area and encircled us. My father managed to keep his balance and stay on his feet--how I wished I had such grace. He began chanting a string of Words to counter the spells bombarding the building, and I struggled to my feet when I felt the electrifying presence of another wizard.

  Chief Valentin and his son ran toward us from the other side with their mouths hanging open in astonishment. The younger Valentin looked ready to ask me how I had managed to escape the restroom right under his nose. My father glared at the chief. “You were going to hand us over to Kasper Zurek and Samson Grom?”

  A chill ran down my spine. Zurek was a Master Philosopher and Grom an Elite Alchemist--and both were the final two trackers who had sworn to capture and kill the Drifter. I supposed they didn’t care that the Tower was destroyed and many members of the Order had decided to at least give me a chance to prove myself. Kasper and Zurek apparently still wanted me dead. Talk about being dedicated to one’s mission.

  Speaking of the devil, Zurek crashed through the window to our far left and fell into a roll. He quickly rose to his feet in order to meet my father, who rushed him, both of them swinging fists and parrying each other’s strikes.

  “Go through the front! Now!” I shouted at the Valentins, jerking my thumb in the direction of the entrance just across from the reception desk. A foggy gray substance swept across the floor from the hallway behind the chief and his son. I knew that alchemical spell well. It drew its power from draining the water content in people’s bodies--it literally sucked them dry.

  “Do as she says!” The chief shoved his son forward and they made it through the exit.

  I cast a Circle of Protection over myself and ran toward the hallway. The thick gray fog swirled and followed. I wanted to lead it away from the unconscious officers still in the reception area, and from my dad, who still battled with Master Zurek, matching him step-for-step.

  The fog caught up and clung to my Circle, gnawing at it and trying to find a crack to slip through. I made a left turn at a corner and then a right, and dashed down the hall toward the lunchroom. I went inside and started rummaging through the drawers near the sink until I found the utensils. I pulled out a knife and started carving alchemical symbols--a triangle for Fire, and a triangle with a horizontal line going through the top for Air.

  The hungry gray fog receded and disappeared, and Samson Grom appeared at the doorway. A wizard in a dusty flannel shirt, beige trench coat, and brown cowboy hat would’ve earned a fashion diatribe from me on any other day, but the way Samson regarded me told me that I had better not unduly provoke him. He made a smart choice and stood outside the room, having sensed my Circle of Protection as well as the alchemical symbols I laid.

  He gripped the sides of the doorframe and leaned forward. For a moment, I thought he’d pass right through, but instead he backed away, blocked by my invisible wall. He drew in a deep breath and said in his Texan drawl, “I can break your Circle, so you might as well let it go.”

  He smiled. It came off as an I’ll kill you in a kinder, gentler manner type of smile.

  My lower lip quivered as I spoke. “Samson, in case you haven’t heard, I’m trying to help you defeat Octavian and his warlocks--and I know how to close rifts and control my powers. You’re making the wrong person your enemy.” I could feel his magic swirling and pressing against my Circle of Protection, causing it to shudder. I clenched my teeth as I fortified my Circle.

  “Well if that’s true, then Master Zurek and I can take you in and we’ll sort it out. And we want that courier--the talisman belongs to us. It is our right to find Octavian and destroy him.” His magic turned sharp and cold like the point of a knife, and it jabbed and cut into my Circle with precision. Every instinct inside me screamed for me to run, but I stood my ground.

  “There’s no way I’m going anywhere with you. And besides, the courier is mine.” I fed energy into the alchemical symbols I carved, and he finally tore through my Circle of Protection and stepped into the room.

  I unleashed the symbols and sent a blaze of Fire at him as a warning, but with a gesture of his hand, the flames dispersed and disappeared. I quietly prepared Zaman’s Fire, knowing that it would tear
through his defenses and roast him like a barbeque.

  “Isabella, you’re either going to surrender or die here.”

  I cast a Circadian Circle and shot out a tendril of energy like I had done earlier with Gregory. A pure bolt of energy struck Samson and disrupted his magical aura. He cursed and dropped to his knees, his palms pressing against the floor to keep him from falling onto his face.

  “Well damn...” he said in a hoarse voice. His arms trembled with effort and his yellow magical aura erupted into a frenzied dance around his body.

  I skirted around him and headed for the door. When I crossed the threshold, I turned to face him. “I don’t want to fight you, and I don’t want to kill you. I’ve had enough of that. But if you follow me and look for trouble, then you’re going to get it.” I hit him with another bolt, tapping into his aura and draining him until he fell unconscious.

  High on magical energy, I ran down the hall, turning corners and making it back to the reception area, where I spotted my father standing face-to-face with Master Zurek. Purple bruises and bloody cuts marred their faces, but their breathing remained steady and their gazes locked on each other. Their faces strained with concentration, and I could feel a multitude of spells--perhaps hundreds of tendrils--writhing with power and spinning throughout the reception area like a massive web.

  The density of the magical energy made me gag, and I dared not approach the two men. I didn’t want to walk into one of the spells or counterspells surrounding them, and I certainly didn’t want to jeopardize my father’s battle. Their physical fight had ended, and both had taken their share of blows. Now their minds and magic raged against each other, and only one would emerge the victor.

  I felt the vibration of several tendrils of magic flying forward and others snapping in half and drawing back. Sweat beaded my father’s temple as he cut down toxic spells and launched a few of his own. Zurek grunted and then spoke a Word--my father mirrored his Word and neutralized whatever Zurek tried to accomplish. The Master Philosopher then blasted a string of Words from his throat that shook the entire building, and the dense magic became so thick that I started choking.