The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  Lainey rose to his feet. “Does General Donovan suspect rogue magic involved with the attack? Otherwise, why does he want us?”

  Jameson shrugged. “Go ask him yourself. Listen...I’ve got to go. I’ll see you guys.”

  Lainey rushed out the door to follow Jameson, but paused and turned to face me. “You coming?”

  I managed to nod. “I’ll be right up.”

  I felt a lump in my throat and a sharp pain in my stomach. The Master Philosopher, Ekwueme, had once projected that a Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor was imminent--but he had said that in August, right before the Gray Tower was attacked. I shoved some of my notes aside to view the latest newspaper on my desk--December 7, 1941. I had lost nearly three months time. This was supposed to be August.

  With a long sigh, I fell back into my chair and reached for my phone. Though I felt a lump in my throat and my fingers quivered, I dialed a number and waited. A female voice answered after a few rings. “Baker Street Manufacturing. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Can I please speak with...Ian Pearce?”

  “May I ask who’s calling?” The woman’s familiar voice repeated in a less unfriendly tone.

  “Damn it, Bernadine, just put me through to Ian.”

  I heard a click and then his voice. “This is Ian Pearce, how may I help you?”

  Tears brimmed my eyes at hearing the sound of his voice. My former boss, my friend, who had been disgraced and in a coma, was alive at the Special Operations Executive headquarters and speaking with me.

  “Hello? how may I help you?” he repeated.

  I gulped. “This...this is Isabella. I don’t know if you remember me...”

  There was a pause. “I’m sorry, Miss, I don’t know an Isabella. Is this related to work? Are you one of ours? I couldn’t help but notice your American accent.”

  Not a trace of recognition, though I’d give anything just to hear him say that he knew me. “I’m calling from Washington. General Donovan wanted me to let you know that we’ll keep in touch regarding the event at Pearl Harbor today.”

  “I’m very sorry about that. I’m sure you will. You said your name was Isabella?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Isabella.”

  “Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and wiped my eyes. I tried consoling myself with the thought that at least he was alive, though it meant being a complete stranger to him. I nearly jumped out of my seat when my phone rang again, but I picked up the receiver before the third ring.

  “Isabella, it’s Neal Warren.”

  “Neal! Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m at MI6 headquarters. This is all rather bizarre, isn’t it?”

  “Neal, what’s going on? Why aren’t we in our world?”

  “We are in our world.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Whatever happened at the Den must have put us all on a different timeline. Different decisions were made, alternate actions taken...which led to us leading similar, but not-quite-the-same lives we remember. While most things don’t appear to have deviated from our former timeline, there are some glaring differences.”

  “Like the Gray Tower.”

  “Yes, it never existed.”

  “But what about the Black Wolves joining forces with Hitler?”

  “The Black Wolves also never existed, though people with special abilities still do. That’s what they call us, by the way. We’re not wizards, we’re special abilities people. According to the information I’ve gathered so far, magic-use is illegal throughout the world except for people trained and registered with their governments. All other magic, even if used for good, is called rogue magic.”

  I flipped through the Mason file again. “I’m with some sort of sub-division of the FBI dealing with crimes that involve magic. Why am I here?”

  “This is one of the many possible choices you could’ve made for your life and career in the absence of the Gray Tower. I knew you’d gravitate toward law enforcement. Am I also correct in assuming your father is in the military?”

  “Yes, he’s right upstairs above my office.”

  “Your father wasn’t inside the Den, so he will not be among those of us who remember our previous timeline. Faint memories of this new timeline are slowly emerging, so they should help you maneuver in your day-to-day interactions.”

  My heart sank. I thought of the protective shield I had erected over the Den while I was on the other side of the rift with the great olive tree. “So only those who were still in the Den during the break in time...they’re the ones who’ll remember everything like we do, but no one else?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Ian’s not in a coma. He’s back at SOE.”

  “Yes, I intended to inform you about him. I knew it would please you.”

  “Does this mean...could Kenneth Aspen be alive?”

  Neal sighed. “I spoke with OSS before calling you. I’m afraid he’s deceased. Your government has him listed as killed while on assignment in Europe.”

  I felt a pang in my chest. “I understand. Anyone dead before the time break stays dead...”

  “So it seems.”

  “What about everyone down in the Sanctuary?”

  “Nikon, Master Skye, and Ekwueme were alive when I last saw them, and I hope they are well. I’m sure the others will contact us one way or another. As for Lyov Praskovya, he was destroyed in the Sanctuary. In this timeline, you’re the one reaping the glory for his demise. Read one of your newspapers from a few days ago, or better yet, your FBI file with the name Mason.”

  I scanned through the pages until I reached the end, where Lyov’s cold gaze stared back in a black and white photo. “This is almost too much. Neal, what should we do?”

  “Keep in touch, learn as much as we can...and speak of this to no one outside our group.”

  “I don’t like this new...timeline. Are you okay with this?”

  “There’s a long-legged blonde at the reception desk just outside my office. I’ll cope.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Is Jane Lewis okay? And what about Joshua Morton?”

  “They are fine,” he assured me. “I’ll make sure to phone you again soon. I have an appointment to keep--”

  “Hmm, I wonder with whom?”

  “I insist you take the time to enjoy your family and ease into your new life. Don’t expect to know or learn everything all at once.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Neal.”

  As soon as I hung up, I began examining the Mason file in earnest instead of just skimming or pretending to read. A typed report said Lyov had come to the U.S. under the alias William Mason. He committed ritualistic killings of other wizards--or, people with special abilities--including two members of my team while we were investigating the murders. It looked like I had caught up to him and dismantled him--literally. A few unsavory photos in the file showed the damage I dealt him. I must’ve killed him in the same manner I would’ve done any Cruenti in my former life. Lyov’s body was charred from being engulfed in Zaman’s Fire, and I had taken off his head. All I could say was good riddance.

  Father Gabriel? Are you here with me? No one answered. Part of me didn’t want an answer, because I was afraid he was gone for good. I told myself that he was probably off somewhere in the Vatican, registering as a special abilities priest or something. This whole thing would take some getting used to. I didn’t like the idea of magic being outlawed and only those under the government’s thumb being able to use it. However, if an institution like the Gray Tower never existed, then I supposed this would be the best we could do under the circumstances. It was probably also safe to assume that the first Drifter, Besart Frasheri, never tore open those rifts--or, at least, he corrected the mistake before real damage could be dealt. While there were evildoers who used magic in this world, it seemed no one had become a Cruenti or Black Wolf.

  To me, that was an excellent start for this new world.

  After a quick meeting with General Donovan and agreeing to
wait and see if indeed any “rogue magic” had been used in conjunction with the recent attack, I passed throngs of agents in the hallway, all clamoring and shouting updates on Pearl Harbor to one another, and went over to my father’s office. I spotted a plaque on the door that had his name and rank. I gasped at the sight of GENERAL CARSON GEORGE with an odd title beneath--Special Abilities Registrar.

  I knocked and heard my dad’s muffled voice from the other side beckon me to enter. I opened the door and stepped in, returning his smile and sitting across from him. He looked less aged from when I last saw him, and he wasn’t blind. I didn’t know why, but it actually made me a little sad. Though it had hurt to see my father with his injury, I had also seen that he had changed as a person. He had become more humble, and I felt closer to him while at the embassy in Switzerland than I had my entire life. If he didn’t remember anything from the other life, then what kind of person was he now?

  “That Mason case put you on the front page of nearly every newspaper.” He poured a glass of Scotch and handed me the drink.

  I took a sip and peered into his eyes. “How has the last few days been for you?”

  “The usual. I’m working with General Donovan on restructuring OSS--we’re going to call it the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)--and I think we’ll move your Special Abilities Unit from the FBI over to the CIA. Soon, we’ll need you and your team to do more than just investigate crimes.”

  “You’re talking about getting us involved in the war. So you want us to become spies too? I’d like to know your master plan before I agree to anything.” I set my drink on the table and crossed my arms. This wasn’t going well. “How’s Mom?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My mother? How is she?”

  “I...called her a few days ago.”

  I shook my head. “Home is only an hour away, one and a half, tops. When was the last time you were at home with Mom?”

  He sniffed. “Five weeks ago. I’ll be driving up tomorrow.”

  “But Johnnie and Rachel are there, and they’re expecting us today.”

  “I have responsibilities here. You know that.”

  I felt like my heart was breaking. I wanted the blind man back, who would’ve said, Yes dear, I saw your mother just a day or two ago and Hell itself wouldn’t prevent me from driving home with you today.

  There was a knock on the door. I turned around to face Allan Skye, who stepped into the office. My heart jumped. He wore his naval uniform and walked in without a cane or a limp in his leg. He smiled at me, and I saw a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. He cleared his throat and addressed my father.

  “General George,” Skye said in his Cajun accent, “I believe you wanted a word with me?”

  My father stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “Captain Skye, I’m sure you’ve heard of the attack on Pearl Harbor.”

  A flash of anger ran through his eyes. “I did, sir. We still don’t even know the exact number of lives lost.”

  My father nodded. “Would you be willing to head out there on behalf of SAU and report back to us if rogue magic was involved?”

  “I can leave today.”

  “Good.” My father gestured toward me. “This is my daughter, Isabella. You’ve probably seen her picture in the newspapers the last few days. She’s responsible for stopping the Mason murders.”

  Skye smiled at me. “Hello, Isabella.”

  “Captain Skye...” my throat constricted, and I was at a loss for words.

  Skye moved in and gently took my hand. “It’s good to see you.”

  My father’s gaze darted between us, and he poured himself a glass of Scotch. I could tell he was already projecting. “Captain Skye, your pupils are dilated and your breathing is shallow. Add to that the way Isabella just hesitated, and I would be led to believe either you two know each other or have no qualms about displaying a sudden overwhelming attraction toward one another.” He took a sip of his Scotch and rubbed his clean-shaven chin.

  Skye observed me. “I’d be crazy not to stop and notice her--and I’m not just talking about appearances. She has to be smart as hell and tough as steel to take down someone like Mason. I’m sure she’s done other great things too. As far as I’m concerned, she’s a hero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how many countless lives she’s saved.” He looked at me as if adding the unspoken words, She saved my life as well.

  My father arched an eyebrow. “Captain Skye, your plane is waiting for you. I already anticipated that you would accept the task and offer to leave today. I’ve also taken the liberty of projecting your next few days of work. Do follow the schedule I’ve left you. You’re dismissed.”

  Skye’s eyes narrowed, but he respectfully saluted my father. He turned to face me, his expression softening. “Thank you, Isabella.”

  “Be safe, captain.” I watched him leave, and I was nearly moved to tears by his words.

  “I don’t like him,” my father said.

  I rolled my eyes. “So...was there anything else you needed from me? Or did you just want to mention how many newspapers I made it into?”

  He studied me for a few moments. “You’re emotional. Stressed. Was the Mason case too unsettling for you?”

  I sighed, not wanting to go down this road with him. I had to believe at least some part of the man I had known was still inside him. Somewhere. “I’m going home. I hope you enjoy registering people with...special abilities.”

  I rose from my seat and headed for the door. He called out to me, and I turned to face him. “Isabella...you do know that I am proud of your accomplishment?”

  “Yes, I know. I’ll see you later...general.”

  I shut the door.

  77

  As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I gasped and fought back tears. I didn’t know whether I should hold on to the hope that my father would grow and change as he did in the life I had known, or if he’d remain the man of stone that stood across from me. Neal was right. I should give all this some time, because trying to figure everything out or trying to force personalities or relationships that might not be there was exhausting, to say the least.

  I sniffed and smoothed my black skirt, continuing down the hallway. Luke Jameson turned the corner and halted. He gave me a wave and then looked over his shoulder, motioning toward another person who had yet to catch up.

  “Jameson,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted. “Having fun escorting your hotshot consultant?”

  He spoke in a low voice. “You know, he’s a pretty swell guy. I take back everything I said.”

  Brande rounded the corner, and I nearly collided with him. We both stared at each other.

  “So...” Jameson continued, “Mr. Drahomir, you’ll find that we have all the resources you’ll need working with us, and our agents--like Isabella here, we have some female agents--are quite friendly.”

  Brande and I smiled at each other. Words didn’t need to pass between us. I could tell by the mixture of relief and joy in his eyes that he had been worried about me and remembered everything. At that moment, I couldn’t contain my feelings any longer and rushed into his embrace. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he responded by pulling me in and pressing his lips against mine.

  “Yeah,” Jameson said, “when I said friendly, I didn’t mean...”

  “It’s okay,” I said, catching my breath. “We’re acquainted with each other.”

  “I’d hope so.” Jameson peered up and down the hallway just to make sure no one stumbled upon our display.

  “I’ll take care of Mr. Drahomir, Jameson.”

  “I’m sure you will.” He smirked and headed toward my father’s office.

  When he closed the door behind him, I pulled Brande into another kiss before speaking. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “So am I,” he said.

  “What kind of a consultant are you supposed to be, anyway?” I looped my arm around his and guided him to the stairwell and down to the lobby.

  “Shouldn�
�t I stop in to see your father?”

  I shook my head. “That can wait. Just come with me.”

  “There’s no Gray Tower.” His voice held a touch of sadness. “In this life, I stayed in Budapest, built a business with Dani Kasza, and became an expert on Special Abilities--including some related specialized technology.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him as we went out the back door, to the parking lot. “Your company’s not experimenting on people, is it?”

  He frowned. “Would you even need to ask that?”

  I gave him an apologetic look. “I just don’t know what to think of this new timeline, or world, or whatever you want to call it.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Your father is the one who requested my consultation. What does he want?”

  “How should I know? All he cares about is how perfect my smile is and if I can score a newspaper interview. By the way, are you registered?”

  He snorted. “No.”

  “You might want to get that taken care of.”

  His expression told me that he’d like to see someone make him. Whether or not the Tower existed, in his heart he knew it did at some point. I supposed, for him, that would always be part of his identity.

  We approached his car, and I slipped into the passenger seat. He got into the driver seat and faced me. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My parents’ home in Baltimore.” I gave him directions.

  He started the car, and we took off. I told him everything I remembered from my battle with Octavian all the way up to my conversation with Neal. I still hadn’t heard from Mehara, Ekwueme, or anyone else. I almost groaned when I thought of Cliff and Sadik--they were in Switzerland with my father, so they wouldn’t remember anything. Maybe I could find a way to check on them, just to make sure they were okay. As I continued wondering about the others, and worrying about them, my eyelids grew heavy and I drifted into an achy sleep.

  78

  I awoke when the car slowed and made its way up a secluded driveway. A stretch of trees kept the house hidden and private, though if my mother’s personality was anything like I remembered, she’d have neighbors visiting and would be playing music for them. We pulled up behind Johnnie’s car, and though the sunshine and my wristwatch confirmed that it was only the early afternoon, the house seemed as silent as a cemetery.