The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  Roxanna came in, still carrying a lilt of laughter from the living room. She spied me downing my drink and gave me a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder. “I take it you’re familiar with the book?”

  I nodded. “But it sounds like Delana can explain the story much better than I could.”

  She went over to the cutting board and started slicing some bread and a block of cheese. “Well, let her know that she’s welcome here any time, and so are you.”

  “Thank you.” I studied her, trying to pinpoint her magical abilities. “I noticed the arch over the walkway and all the hedging. You’ve created a very balanced environment, Roxanna.”

  She began placing the bread and cheese on a platter. “Thank you. I left the Gray Tower ten years ago a Practitioner.”

  “Nature magic?”

  “Yes. And you’re an alchemist, right?”

  “It looks like your senses are well-tuned.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should ask her about why she may have left the Tower. For some people, it could be a touchy subject. Most Practitioners left because the Tower had judged them deficient, as people who could never rise to the ranks of Elite or Master. The Tower would train them, of course, so that they wouldn’t kill themselves or others by accident or misuse, but would quickly turn Practitioners back out into the world. On the other hand, some Practitioners were just happy with basic training, and left on their own to choose whatever vocation suited them. Of course, if the Tower really wanted you to stay and continue training, it often had ways of making that happen.

  “I have improved in some things over the years,” she said, grabbing the platter. “I do healings, a bit of elementalism...that sort of thing.”

  A wizard trained in nature magic could restore or disrupt the natural flow of human and creature bodies, and even manipulate and transform them. They knew how to work the energy inherent in the forces of nature like elementals, and could break curses and lift enchantments.

  “Could I ask you something?” I finished my drink and set the glass on the counter.

  “What is it?”

  “Could you...read me, and tell me what you sense?”

  She looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Oh, then let me give this to the girls, and I’ll be back.”

  I watched her leave with the platter, and then berated myself for having asked her to look inside me. But I needed to know specifically what other people saw when they looked at me--and better to ask Roxanna the Practitioner than Neal Warren the Elite Philosopher. I knew that, in general, other wizards could still read me as an alchemist, but how long would that last? Each time Neal looked at me and said nothing, I knew he sensed something that wasn’t supposed to be there. He would slowly unravel the web until he’d finally unmasked me--and then he would have to make a choice between our friendship and the Tower.

  When Roxanna returned, she grabbed a clean cloth and wet it, then rubbed a little soap into it. She brought the cloth over and began rubbing my hands. “First, clean your hands. Then, clear your mind.”

  I took a deep breath as she soaked the cloth and placed it over my outstretched hands. Water dripped to the floor, but she paid it no attention as she took the cloth away and proceeded to dry my hands with a new one. She then grabbed my hands, holding them in hers, and just stood still for a good minute or two. When I was about to ask her if she sensed anything, her hold became a grip, and she mumbled something.

  I got nervous and broke away. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. Your body and magical aura seem balanced, but then, at the same time, I sense something else. I see you, but there’s some type of mask too. But then again, I don’t expect to read an Apprentice Wizard like I do normal people or other Practitioners. It’s probably the protective spells you’ve set up around yourself to guard your psyche against attacks. If there was something you were looking for, I’m sorry I couldn’t find it for you.”

  “Don’t be,” I said. “Thank you.”

  I would need to go to the Gray Tower and have this so-called mask fortified by the wizards who had placed it there to begin with. But until then, I’d have to be very careful. I already had Delana’s cousin, Nena, seal my mind so that mentalists couldn’t see into my thoughts or memories. But I couldn’t control the fire that had erupted around me, and I needed my father’s allies at the Tower to help with that. What if I had another crazy dream and woke up in flames like I did that time in France? How would I explain that to Neal, if it happened again?

  Roxanna gestured toward the living room. “Let’s finish up. Whatever it is, I’m sure it will work out fine.”

  I put on a smile, even though I felt like I had been punched in the gut. “I’m sure it will.”

  29

  Night had fallen when Rachel, Delana, and I said our goodbyes to the other women. We made our way down the passageway and beneath the iron arch. Though the street had grown solitary and silent, as soon as we left Roxanna’s house, I felt a menacing presence behind us. It tried to cloak itself, at first, and blend in with the atmosphere, but I could still detect it. When I glanced at Delana and saw her expression, I knew she had felt it too. I gave her a silent nod, giving her permission to use any powers at her disposal.

  “Rachel,” I said in almost a whisper, “someone dangerous is following us. I want you to run as fast as you can down to the house. Don’t try to stop for us or wait.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” She grabbed my hand.

  “Please.” I squeezed her hand, using my body magic to impress upon her the urge to go home.

  “All right.” Her hand slipped from mine, and she sprinted down the street toward the house. We felt the presence still behind us.

  “He’s getting closer,” Delana warned. “I think it’s the wizard Ammon warned me about.”

  “The elemental wizard?” I tried to reach out with my senses for Hotaru, but all I got was a cold, brooding force of power waiting in the darkness and ready to unleash itself.

  She shook her head. “You call them warlocks, no? This one’s a warlock, not a Tower Slave.”

  “A warlock? Why would he be here?”

  She smirked. “Ammon said because Octavian, the Cruenti Master, holds you responsible for the death of his brother.”

  Well, I couldn’t say this was unexpected. “Delana, get a spell ready.” I grabbed my golden alchemist’s knife from my purse and laid it against my vitriol bracelet, using the power from the alchemical bracelet to charge the knife with magical energy.

  “I’m ready when you are.” Delana’s eyes gleamed red.

  “Now.”

  We both spun around to confront the presence behind us, but saw nothing, and only felt a shadow of what was there. A pair of headlights and the rumble of a car engine headed our way from the opposite end of the street, and we both tensed and readied our magic. The car slowly approached, and when I saw the driver and passenger, I relaxed. They pulled up to us and stopped.

  “Lainey...Jameson, what are you doing here?” I motioned to Delana to go follow Rachel. She mumbled something to Ammon and then took off.

  “We got word from SOE that there’s a warlock named Ryker headed this way,” Lainey said. He stopped the car and Jameson got out and steered me inside. Once Jameson got back in, Lainey resumed driving.

  Jameson spoke up. “We don’t know who sent the information from the London office, but it was passed from OSS in Washington and on to us. We’ve got a security detail on your family now.”

  “Thanks. I have a feeling he’s here already, so be careful. Did SOE explain why Ryker was after me?”

  Lainey parked the car in front of the house. I could see a couple of FBI agents in a car across the street. Delana and Rachel waited on the front porch.

  “No, it didn’t explain why,” Lainey answered. “What did you do to piss off a warlock?”

  “I killed some of them while on mission in Europe.” Served them right, especially if the warlock was a Cruenti.

  “Miss George,” Lai
ney said with a nod of approval, “I finally got around to reading your report from SOE. I think I’m beginning to like you.”

  Jameson grinned and shook his head. “Just remember we’ll be around to help. Each agent is carrying a gun with iron-tipped bullets and an imperium collar.”

  I made a move to get out of the car, but then paused when I remembered something. “This is something personal, but I was wondering if you could find any information you may have on a Philip Parrish. He’s a McCall’s magazine editor.”

  Lainey nodded. “I’ll make a few phone calls.”

  Jameson gazed at me. “We haven’t seen or heard from Hotaru Kimura. Do you think he left the area?”

  “I don’t know, but Neal is back. I don’t think Hotaru will come around my family, but he may try to track me if I leave Cambridge. How’s General Cambria holding up?”

  “Cambria is starting to complain about the security detail, but other than that, he’s fine.” Jameson got out and came over to my side to open the door for me.

  “Thanks,” I said, as he offered his hand and helped me out. “Can you try to find out who sent that message from SOE?”

  “We’re already on it,” Lainey said.

  “Good luck.” I crossed the street and headed toward Delana and Rachel who were still standing on the porch. When Jameson and Lainey saw me walk up the steps and go inside, they took off.

  Delana yawned and then went straight upstairs. Rachel and I went through the living room and could hear Johnnie, still in the dining room with Neal, Dillon, and Jim. Frankie had already departed. We came around to the dining room and saw that the playing cards had been shoved aside and several empty bottles of beer stood on the table. The guys sat around absorbed in some type of serious discussion and hadn’t noticed us. Jim grew excited about something Neal wrote down on a napkin, and thanked him when he handed it to him.

  “I’m in awe,” he said, examining the napkin. “I never even thought to look at it from that perspective! I’ve spent the last two months trying to figure out that equation. And you say you just work in the embassy as a liaison?”

  Neal downed another bottle of beer. “Wasted talent, I suppose.”

  Johnnie wore a huge grin. “This was the best poker night I’ve ever had. I can’t believe I won five times!”

  Jim chuckled. “Sheer luck, my friend. Next time I’ll have the upper hand.”

  Dillon smirked. “I wish Dr. Grey could’ve come tonight. Wouldn’t you like to see the look on his face after losing?”

  “Oh, come on,” Johnnie said. “Dr. Grey is not that bad once you get to know him. He’s just...very dedicated.”

  “Yes, to himself!” Dillon laughed. “I swear if he weren’t building a reputation off of that Suleiman project, he wouldn’t even have bothered coming to Harvard. You know how snobbish some Brits can be.” He stood and slapped Neal on the shoulder. “But not you, buddy. You’re all right.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Neal glanced in my direction and gave me a wry smile.

  Jim looked at his wristwatch. “Dill, are you ready to go?”

  Dillon looked up and smiled at us. He had taken off his yellow sweater and lounged comfortably in his white short-sleeved shirt. “Rachel, Isabella...how was your book club?”

  Rachel sighed and shook her head. “Jonathan George, I hope you didn’t spill any beer on that carpet.”

  Johnnie wisely said nothing and began collecting the bottles. Dillon and Jim said goodbye to us and then headed out. When Johnnie and Rachel hauled the empty beer bottles into the kitchen, I approached Neal and sat next to him.

  “There’s a warlock named Ryker tracking me. Octavian sent him because I got Marcellus decapitated.”

  Marcellus Eckhard, or “Marc,” was a Cruenti warlock who ran a Nazi research laboratory in Reims, France. He believed my dad was the Drifter, and wanted to lay hold of my father so he could drink his blood and steal his powers. However, when we raided Marc’s lab a couple of months ago, the warlock was cut down by a sword-wielding Catholic priest.

  “I sensed Ryker down the street as well.” Neal opened one last beer bottle. How much was this man planning to drink tonight? “We’ll set up an ambush and flush him out. He can’t be allowed to make the first move.”

  “So, I promised to tell you about Robert Cambria...”

  “Meet me at the guesthouse.”

  “Why?”

  “The old woman,” he simply said, as if that were reason enough. I didn’t necessarily blame him.

  “Okay.”

  Rachel came back in. “Did you enjoy the game, Neal?”

  “Most certainly. Did Jonathan tell you that he won five times?”

  “Really?” She gazed at my brother with suspicion as he came in from the kitchen with a grin across his face.

  “Good job, Johnnie.” I smirked and glanced at Neal.

  “Well,” Neal stood, “I’ll be off to bed. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Oh, Neal,” Rachel said as she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “We’re practically family.”

  I cringed a little. “Goodnight, Neal.”

  As Neal left the dining room, Rachel grabbed the remaining beer bottles and took them away. The Turkish texts came to mind, and I pulled Johnnie aside. “Do you remember Veit Heilwig?”

  “You mean Dad’s old friend from Germany? Yes.”

  “I met him a couple of months ago.”

  “Where?”

  “In France, but...he’s dead now.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “He left me his diary, and some of it is in Turkish...just like some papers Dad left me.”

  “So you’ve been looking into his last trip to the Ottoman Empire as well.”

  I nodded and took a seat. “These are important, Johnnie. No one knows about these, not even Neal. I need to come with you tomorrow to meet Dr. Grey. I need him to tell me what the texts say. It has to do with our father and me.”

  His gaze grew tense. “Why was the FBI here?”

  “They’re here to protect you.”

  “Are you going to tell me what from? Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Well,” I said in a level voice, “don’t trust anyone who may approach you claiming to be from the Gray Tower.”

  He frowned. “I’m not letting you anywhere near Dr. Grey unless you tell me everything.”

  I gritted my teeth. “I can’t...not yet.”

  “It’s not fair. You...you go off for all these years and just come back with secrets that could get us killed.”

  “Johnnie--”

  “Yes it’s all to protect us, I’m sure.” He shook his head, probably thinking about that night my mother threw a vase at my father’s head to try and keep him from taking me for testing with the Gray Tower. My father had told my mother what he did was for my benefit, while holding back so many crucial details. It never occurred to me Johnnie could feel helpless and frustrated like my mother once did.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever it is,” he said, “I hope you know what you’re doing. I’ll take you to Dr. Grey when you’re ready to actually tell me what’s going on.”

  Suddenly I had a mind to give him a good jab in his shoulder and let him know that this wasn’t easy for me. If only he knew what I’ve been through, he’d understand. Whatever resentment or anger had been boiling beneath the surface, he could take it and direct it at our father or whoever else--but not me.

  Johnnie turned away and went to join Rachel in the kitchen. I waited for them to go upstairs, all the while still arguing against him in my head. Whether he liked it or not, I needed to see Dr. Grey in the morning about the Turkish texts. I finally stood and passed through the kitchen and out the back door.

  I walked past the garden, down the cobblestone pathway, and was careful not to crush a single petunia. I went and knocked on the door, and, at Neal’s beckoning, I entered. He sat on the floor with his back against the loveseat. He wore a whi
te fleece undershirt and plaid pajama pants.

  He made small movements with his index finger, creating tiny luminous words, phrases, numbers and questions in mid-air. I had seen Veit Heilwig do something similar, although Veit used the ability to cast alchemical spells without the use of an alchemist’s knife. It seemed Neal was sorting out a picture in his mind; the gears were turning, his calculations running and re-running, and there were missing pieces. Did he want me to complete the puzzle?

  “How are you feeling?” I slipped off my heels and winced. I should’ve worn more comfortable shoes today.

  “I feel subdued, but it can’t be helped after imbibing so many barbiturates.”

  I walked around his mid-air collage of facts and numbers. I settled on the floor next to him and spoke. “General Cambria was a close friend of my father’s. Our families would spend vacations together, and Robert Jr. and I even went to the same schools. The general volunteered to come that day, when the Army needed to deliver the results of its investigation into my father’s disappearance. I’d probably see him once a year after that, usually around Christmas, until I left for college. I hadn’t seen him in ten years, until this week. He had promised to keep something my father gave him--something meant for me. He left me his wedding ring, and it’s enchanted. He’ll find me with it.”

  I also mentioned the cryptic note my father had left me while in France, but avoided the subject of Veit Heilwig, his diary, and the Turkish texts. I was certain Neal had read the report I submitted to MI6 before leaving London, and I hoped he wouldn’t pry into what happened with Veit.

  “Has your father tried to contact you since you’ve been here?” He began connecting names and phrases with a bright silvery line.

  “No, I’m still waiting.”

  “You want to help him.”

  “He’s my father. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You want to help him even though it could destroy lives?”

  I glared at him. “You don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t know what any Drifter is capable of. If the Masters stopped executing them and burying knowledge about them, then maybe they could actually learn something.”