The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  Within minutes, I noticed Simon walk up, and I caught his eye. He looked over to the right, and then to his left, like a sneaky little rat. He approached and took a seat next to me, greeting me with a grin.

  “You look...mesmerizing.”

  “Thank you.” I forced a smile.

  “Your cousin will not be joining us, will he?” He rumbled with laughter.

  “No, it will be just you and me.” Why couldn’t he at least be twelve years younger? He looked like one of those men that you just knew had been attractive back in his youth.

  “He would just spoil our fun. Shall we?” He offered his arm, and I took it.

  We walked arm-in-arm down the street, turning the corner at Rue de Vesle, the major street in the city. As the night sky settled and the stars began to peek out, shopkeepers finally closed their doors and pedestrians quickened their pace.

  A gypsy, wearing a hooded cloak and raggedy clothes sat on the sidewalk and leaned against the grocer’s store edifice. He played a mandolin, and would stop to rattle the change in his upturned hat whenever someone passed. One of the passersby caught the grocer in time and paid him for a wrapped meat sandwich, which he threw into the gypsy’s hat.

  “A franc to spare, sir?” He played a quick tune and gestured toward his hat. I smiled and tossed in the money.

  “For god’s sake,” Simon said through clenched teeth, “didn’t I tell you last week to get out of my city?”

  “Your city?”

  “Yes, my city, you filthy parasite! If I see you again, I’ll shoot you.”

  “Let’s go, Simon.” I wanted to hit him with a Putrefaction spell...right in his face.

  “We’ll stop by Ruinart, Noelle.” He buried his face in my hair and inhaled. We began walking again.

  “You mean the champagne house?” I shied away.

  “Yes, their cellars are caves that date back to the time of the Romans, and the house is one of the oldest in town.”

  “It sounds wonderful, but I don’t drink, remember? And it’s getting late.”

  “It’s very mild and smooth, you’ll see. It’s a wonderful alternative to ale and wine. And don’t worry about the time, because I always leave Ruinart open.”

  “Then perhaps I’ll try a glass.” I turned my face away so he wouldn’t see me scowl.

  “Wonderful, darling. Look, there it is.”

  We approached the champagne house and entered. The host sat us at a candlelit table and Simon ordered the Cuvée for us. The ambiance would have put me in a romantic mood if I had been with someone else. There were both old and young couples enjoying champagne and intimate chatter, and some snuggled in secluded corners. A group of friends sat near the pianist who played a slow melodious song. After drinking a few glasses, I rubbed my white vitriol beads on my bracelet to prevent becoming befuddled from the drinks. Simon, on the other hand, drank twice as many glasses as I did. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to use the red garnet kiss after all.

  “See those two lovers at that table in the corner?” He pointed toward a young man and woman who held hands and sat closely.

  “She seems happy.”

  “You’ve never seen them before, but can’t you feel what’s going on in the air around them? Passion is life, Noelle.”

  “But one shouldn’t be blinded by it.” I finished off my Cuvée, secretly envying them. How I would have given anything to be in that woman’s place, with someone I loved, gazing into his eyes with such depth and intensity, relishing each touch and kiss.

  “Come with me, I want to show you something.” He grabbed my hand, led me away from the table, and further inside toward the cellar entrance.

  “How far do we have to go to reach the caves?”

  “Not far, but we’ll not take the stairway down.” He went over to a shaft where a double rope hung. It reminded me of a dumbwaiter. The servant boys likely used it in their daily tasks of quickly hauling bottles and supplies between the cellars and the champagne house.

  “What are you doing?” I ran over just in time to see him grab the rope and start rappelling down the shaft. He was surprisingly agile and he landed at the bottom with a huge smile on his face.

  “Are you afraid to come down? Or will you take the plunge?”

  “I’m not afraid.” I smirked and grabbed the rope, gliding and rappelling until I landed in his arms.

  “For a moment, I thought you would run to the other side and take the stairs.” He set me down.

  “I have more courage than you think, Simon.”

  “Indeed.”

  We walked through a narrow passageway which opened up into the first cave. Rows of wine racks lined up perfectly into organized sections, and sconces with real torches were fixed to the wall, a testimony to the cellar’s medieval origin.

  “Tell me, what are you thinking of?” He stood behind me and swept my hair over my right shoulder, planting a kiss on my neck.

  I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. “How big are these caves?”

  “Extremely big, my dear.” He held my hand and caressed it.

  “Mm, yes...well, tell me about yourself. What do you do here?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s not ruin our moment with talk of work. I don’t have to work today or tomorrow, so why not enjoy ourselves while we can?”

  “One last question, then.” I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and I saw his glassy eyes redden.

  “One last question, my dear, and then no more talking.”

  “Is it true that there’s a laboratory in the city?”

  He paused for a long moment, and then guffawed, leaning on me for support. “Oh, Noelle...”

  I prodded him further. “The laboratory, Simon.”

  Suddenly he grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved his pistol beneath my chin. The hairs on the back of my neck stood, and a quiet cold dread grew inside me. Apparently he wasn’t as drunk as I thought he was, and a drunken man with a gun was as unpredictable as he was dangerous.

  “Do you work for the Maquis? Or the Americans or British?”

  “Does it matter?” I bit my lip, hoping that my response didn’t provoke him to shoot me.

  “Perhaps it doesn’t, since I’m certain you’ll never be found.”

  “You knew I was a spy?”

  He shook his head. “But I was going to take what I wanted and kill you anyway.”

  “You’re a rotten bastard.”

  “A rotten bastard with a gun.” He tilted my head back and pressed his lips against mine, kissing me roughly. He pulled back and breathed heavily staring at me as if hypnotized. He was now under the influence of the red garnet lipstick.

  “Listen to me,” I turned to face him. “I want you to put your gun away.”

  “Of course.” he placed it back into his coat pocket and kissed me again. This wasn’t good. A second kiss would make the enchantment even stronger.

  I broke away and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “Now, if you really want to please me, Simon, you’ll tell me about the lab.”

  “The laboratory is a few miles south in the largest cave. All these caves and tunnels run like a maze beneath the city.”

  “Is Dr. Heilwig there too?”

  “Yes.”

  “If the lab’s here, then why aren’t there more officers and guards?”

  “It would draw too much attention and become a target, like Vélizy-Villacoublay.”

  “Who’s guarding the lab down here?”

  “Can I kiss you again?”

  “Later, Simon.”

  The storybooks and films presented the effects of love enchantments all wrong. They portrayed the lover sitting around mooning over his beloved in a brainless reverie, but in reality, he still kept his own will, his own thinking, and his own annoying questions.

  “Please, just another kiss.”

  “All right, but first...” I pushed him away, “first, I want you to find some chalk like the ones the servants use down here. Mark the way to the la
b so that I’ll be able to find it. Make sure your markers blend in with the old graffiti, so that no one else will notice. When you come back, I’ll be waiting.”

  “And then we’ll kiss?”

  “Yeah, sure. But, Simon, while you’re at home tomorrow, remember not to take any calls or receive any visitors until later that evening. Understood?”

  “Yes, this will be between you and me. I promise.”

  “Good, now go make the marks like I asked.” I was nervous about asking him to do anything else, because the more steps to a task, the more opportunities there were to mess it up. Besides, I didn’t want to be around for his impatience and aggression to grow stronger. Why did the fool have to kiss me a second time?

  He began executing my orders without further question, and I decided to leave him for tonight. I’d get a hold of him later if I needed another important question answered, or even a map. I headed toward the stairway that led back up to the champagne house. I trembled from the adrenaline still coursing through my veins and shook with rage. Had I been a defenseless girl, I would have been violated and dead. How many other women had he done this to?

  Simon Vester wasn’t just a man of ill repute—he was the devil.

  I took a deep breath and left Ruinart, heading back down Rue de Vesle. The streets were cold and empty, and I worried whether or not Simon would grow difficult and even more unpredictable. All I wanted to do now was return to my room and go to bed. I didn’t know how late it was, but I didn’t care. I just needed to sleep off the angst and frustration of my evening. As I neared Le Fleur, I felt a presence near me, and I slowed my pace.

  “How long have you been following me?”

  “Since you left Ruinart.” Brande came up by my side and fell in step with me.

  “The laboratory is hidden in one of the caves beneath the city. We can reach it by going through the Ruinart cellars.”

  “Where’s Vester?”

  “Probably still roaming the caves.”

  “You used the red garnet lipstick?” He held the front door open for me, and I went in.

  “Yes.” I glanced at him and saw his eyes narrow.

  “You could’ve just used mind control.” He walked upstairs with me.

  “He’s wearing Veit Heilwig’s talisman ring, it wouldn’t have worked.”

  A blaze of anger, directed at myself, ran through me when I remembered that I should’ve asked for Veit’s ring while in the cellars with Simon. I unlocked my door and opened it, not bothering to close it since I knew Brande would come in as well.

  “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  “Why do you ask?” I took off my shoes and decided that a nice hot bath would soothe me before bed.

  “When you left the champagne house, you looked upset.”

  “I was, but I’m fine now.”

  “I’ll keep watch again.”

  “I’m going to take a bath. Can you come back in an hour?” I almost forgot about my knife. I reached for the sheath and unstrapped it, placing the knife on the nightstand.

  “An hour, you say?”

  “It’ll give you plenty of time to tell Gabriel and the others about the lab, and I’m sure you’ve already planned how you’re going to kill Vester, so you can sit and compare notes.”

  “I’ll...see you in an hour.”

  I must have drifted into sleep during my bath, because I was thrown into another vivid dream. This time, I stood in the Gray Tower, wandering through its unusually desolate halls. Despite the emptiness, I kept hearing echoes and screams; bodies tumbled and magic whooshed, indicating that a fierce battle ensued. I felt sick to my stomach whenever a resounding boom vibrated the entire main building.

  I called for my father, then for Brande, but no one answered. I stumbled into the Courtyard of Light and fell against the stone pedestal where the statue of Sophia, Divine Wisdom, stood. Clothed in a marble robe like a Greek statue, she wore a hood that concealed her eyes. Her wings were outstretched like those of an angel, and her right hand held a sword upright, a real sword made of pure gold.

  I thought I heard someone call my name; I shut my eyes and covered my ears. An odd sound filled the air, and I couldn’t make out what it was. Rain suddenly began to fall, I could feel the water splash against my cool skin and hit the ground in a crescendo. When I opened my eyes, I was horrified to find that the rain was a shower of blood. With dread, I looked up and saw the face of the statue staring back at me. I heard that odd noise in the air again, and gazed into the sky above. I saw a blaze of light hurtling toward me like a falling star, and I shrieked when I realized that it was one of the Three, the one who wore the white robe. With a sickening crack, the Master Wizard expired, impaled on Sophia’s sword.

  Something ripped me away from the dream. I was in murky darkness and splashing water. It took me several seconds to realize I was awake and still in the tub—and fighting with Brande. He called my name, and his voice seemed far away, like in the dream. I stared into his face, and for the first time in my life, I saw him afraid. My body trembled with stress, and my heart beat at a frantic pace. I thought of the voice from the dream and realized it had belonged to my father. The dream may have been another message from him.

  “Look at me...Isabella...look at me!” Brande quickly dragged me out of the tub and sat me on the cold bathroom floor. He threw my robe over me and knelt so he could hold my head between his hands, trying to get me to focus on him.

  “I had a dream.” I gasped.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, it was a dream.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s my father. He’s sending me a message.” I put the robe on and stood. I pushed him away when he followed me out and tried to guide me toward the chair in the room.

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Isabella.”

  “I don’t need to sit down! My father’s note said he’d see me again. What...what if he’s here?”

  I rushed toward the door, but he got there first and blocked me. “Are you insane? You’re not even dressed. What was that in there?”

  “I fell asleep in the bathtub and had a dream. It was more like a warning.”

  “But why were you on fire?”

  “I...what?” The entire world, in that moment, seemed to stop. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  “When I touched you,” he said, holding up the palms of his hands to show me how red they were, “I had to absorb it. It was almost too powerful.”

  I turned and headed toward the window to look outside, but Brande must’ve thought I was going to climb out, because he grabbed my arm.

  “Please, just sit.”

  “Let go of me!”

  “I’ll listen to everything you have to say, but please, sit and talk to me.”

  I snatched my wrist away from his hold. I stumbled over to the chair, and sat down, my chest heaving and my mouth forcing out the questions I knew I finally needed to ask, but was afraid to.

  “Why were you in Salon-de-Provence?”

  “What?”

  “Why were you in the Provence region?”

  “I told you, I was trying to find a way back to the Gray Tower without being detected.”

  “Cut the crap and try giving me the real answer.”

  “Isa—”

  I held up my right hand in a gesture to silence him. “You—and the Order—knew my father was alive, but didn’t bother to help him, or send for him, or tell his family.”

  “I can explain...” he lowered himself to his knees, reaching for my hand and holding it. I forced myself to ask another difficult question.

  “You were tracking my father, weren’t you?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “The Order killed an alchemist in Salon-de-Provence four hundred years ago, and his name was Michel de Nostredame. He was a Drifter...like my father.”

  I had been making excuses, coming up with explanations, and flatly denying the signs before me. Now, with Brande’s admission, I cou
ld no longer avoid the truth. Saying it out loud left a bitter taste in my mouth, as if I tasted cadmium again, and I looked at Brande with a mixture of distrust and hurt.

  “You know the law, and you know our purpose.” He lowered his gaze.

  Law and purpose be damned, this was my father. “Whenever you came to see me, you were only looking for my father so you could kill him. You knew he’d try to contact me.”

  “No, I told them you were off limits.”

  I pushed his hand away and leaned forward in my seat. “Yeah, whatever. Tell me what happened.”

  “The Master Wizards gave me the task three years ago and I’ve been tracking him ever since. There are seven of us, mostly Elites, and two Masters. I finally caught up with Carson in Salon-de-Provence and fought him. I almost had him when Father Gabriel intervened. He mistakenly thought I was...”

  “A warlock?”

  He nodded. “Carson escaped and I had to explain who I was to Father Gabriel. Once he knew all the facts, he ended up agreeing with me.”

  All these years I could neither see nor touch my father, and Brande almost took him away from me. “Would you really have killed my father?”

  “Yes.”

  I slapped him as hard as I could. He took the hit without protest or retaliation. “I trusted you.”

  “Forgive me.” He couldn’t even look me in the eye.

  “You want compassion, even though you wouldn’t give the same to my father? Are you your own man, or a creature of the Gray Tower?”

  “Please, tell me what to do, and I will do it.”

  I rose from my seat. He stood with me, finally raising his head and gazing at me through watery eyes. I wanted to scream at him; I wanted to hit him again and tell him how much I hated him—but I couldn’t, because I knew I didn’t. I understood the law and how important it was to protect the Akashic Record, but it turned into something different when the Drifter who had to die was your father, a man who was nothing but good and honorable. He didn’t deserve this.