The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  “It’s in our best interest to safeguard our knowledge about a Drifter’s abilities. If the previous three Drifters had known and understood the depth of their power, they would have been unstoppable. One of them has already done much harm to the world.”

  “Well, let me ask you a question. Back in London, you told me you weren’t one of the seven trackers. I think you lied. Why haven’t you admitted to being one of the trackers?”

  “Would it make you feel better if I did? I think I’ve been fairly inactive as of late, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I didn’t mean it in that way.” His comment stung me. He had been here protecting my family this whole time and has helped me on more than one occasion--his actions hadn’t gone unnoticed. Brande was a tracker too, and he sided with me.

  “May I ask how close you and Brande are?”

  I wasn’t going to share with him how I felt about Brande, and the twinge of guilt I felt over it whenever I thought of Ken told me that I had better not. “We’re good friends. We trust each other with our lives.”

  “You don’t want to discuss Veit Heilwig...why?”

  He was starting to do that Philosopher thing where he’d ask you a bunch of successive questions and then at the end--voilà! He’s figured out everything and had you confessing to kidnapping the Lindbergh baby. It was definitely time to start wrapping up this Q&A. I would try deflecting his line of logic by turning the conversation toward feelings and emotion.

  “Neal...I feel guilty about not being able to save Veit. I found out that he knew my father and remained a faithful friend, even though it resulted in him being expelled from the Order. Veit died helping me.”

  I lowered my gaze and blinked; I shed a few false tears. They’ve gotten me out of some tight spots while on assignment back in Europe. Neal brushed my left cheek with his thumb and then leaned in. He nestled his right cheek against mine, and though his lips brushed against my skin, he didn’t kiss me. He framed the other side of my face with his hand.

  He said in a gentle voice, “Your body temperature is too low, and your breathing hasn’t quickened, which means these tears aren’t the result of a saddened emotional state.”

  Damn it.

  I broke away. “Fine, I know you read the report I gave to MI6. Everything you want to know about Veit Heilwig is in there. Case closed.”

  “Veit Heilwig stole several texts given to the Tower from Mehmed VI’s personal collection. Did you know this?”

  “Master Erin told me he stole something, but she didn’t say what.” I’ve made it through Nazi checkpoints and interrogations--but it looked like I would have to retreat from my tangle with a Philosopher.

  “There are still unanswered questions, Isabella.”

  “You’re telling me!” I said, pretending to yawn. “I think I need to get to bed. We’ll figure out what to do about Ryker in the morning.” I stood and went over to my heels, deciding to carry them instead of putting them on again.

  As I stepped through the doorway and onto the deck, Neal asked me one final question: “Do you trust me?”

  “Why would you need to ask that?”

  “Because you’re holding back.”

  “Maybe it’s for a good reason,” I said with a harsh edge. “Brande may have sent you here to help, but it doesn’t mean I have to share everything with you.”

  I turned and walked off, once more stepping onto the pathway. The curved stones felt cool and hard beneath my feet, and I made sure to land my steps lightly. I was forced to halt when I felt a shiver run up and down my spine, and the subtle prying of someone’s magic trying to force its way into my mind.

  No. He wouldn’t.

  I spun around and saw Neal racing toward me, and my heart dropped as I turned back around and fled toward the main house. He caught up to me and tackled me from behind, and we tumbled down into the grass.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Don’t move.”

  “What--” I lost my train of thought when a twelve-inch dagger cut through the air and lodged itself in the ground just inches from my head.

  “It’s the warlock, Ryker.” He grabbed the dagger and got up, facing the direction of the guesthouse.

  I sunk my fingers into the earth, laid Fire and Air symbols, and charged them. I quickly stood, just in time to hear three more whizzes in the air and taste the essence of cold steel. Neal held the dagger upright and made a quick arch with it to deflect three knives that came hurtling toward him, though he had little light from the guesthouse deck and open doorway.

  I felt the warlock to my left. He was almost a shadow, but I dodged a punch he threw and reciprocated with a jab to his face. He quickly recovered and pulled out another steel dagger, but I sent a gust of wind, hitting him sideways and knocking him to the ground. He rolled into the fall and made it to his knees just in time to parry Neal’s strike. They went back and forth, countering each other’s strikes and thrusts, until I flicked my wrist and sent a thin stream of fire toward Ryker.

  The warlock swung himself backward to avoid the fire, and Neal voiced an enchantment that called the fire to rebound and cling to the dagger. I rushed toward them as Neal thrust the fiery dagger at Ryker, who had activated a Circle of Protection. I knelt to the ground and began using the dagger to lay an Earth symbol--an upside down triangle with a vertical line running through the bottom--and an Air symbol. Combined, both symbols would hold Ryker in place, and he wouldn’t be able to move. However, when the warlock saw what I intended to do, he made a quick motion with his hand and jumped into the air, disappearing as quickly as he had come.

  Neal quenched the flame on the dagger’s blade and drew in a deep breath. “This was a test. He wanted to gauge our skills and strength.”

  “You could’ve gotten him if you weren’t drunk.” I approached and grabbed the second dagger from him. I examined both of them, but there were no distinctive designs or markings on the hilts.

  “I’ll place a Circle of Protection around the property,” he said, looking up into the night sky.

  “If he comes back and breaks your Circle, you’d be alone over here. Why don’t you stay in the main house?”

  “I doubt he’ll be back tonight, or that he could break my Circle...but I’ll do as you say.”

  “Here you go.” I handed him the daggers. I could taste the enchantment latent in the metal, meant to help Ryker track whoever possessed it. It would be best for Neal to keep them instead of me.

  “I take it you’re no longer displeased with me?” A faint glow emanated from his hand as he focused on the daggers. I could feel his magic at work, unraveling the enchantment woven into them.

  “Well, when a guy saves a girl from getting impaled by a dagger, she tends to warm up to him. You get to sleep on the couch tonight.”

  He broke the enchantment on the daggers, and the light from his hand subsided. “I’ll be inside shortly. Let me cast the Circle.”

  I headed toward the veranda, stopping to pick up my shoes, but then turned to face Neal once more. “Can I ask you something about the Drifter?”

  His expression was unreadable. “Yes.”

  “You said a Drifter already harmed the world. How?”

  “How well do you remember your Tower history?”

  I shrugged. “I know the basics.”

  “Are you sure? Or, like most Practitioners and Apprentices, were you busy sneaking into Prague for late night outings?”

  I waved my hand through the air. “For your information, I followed the rules and passed all my courses.” Okay, maybe I did sneak into a dance hall or bar a few times, but he didn’t have to know that.

  “Isabella, when was the Order of Wizards founded?”

  “In the early Middle Ages.”

  “When did the Cruenti and Black Wolves arise?”

  “At the same time as the Order.”

  “Before, the Order. Before.”

  A chill ran down my spine as I began to see where he was leading me
. “What happened back then?”

  “The first Drifter, Besart Frasheri, opened a rift between time and eternity back in 1265. This allowed demons in the spirit world to sense and be drawn to wizards.”

  Disgust took hold of me and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “I think I’ve heard enough.”

  He gazed at me as if saying that he wasn’t finished, and I had better stick around to hear the rest. “Since then, more rifts have been opened by successive Drifters. As far as I’m concerned, the Drifter is responsible for the existence of Cruenti and Black Wolves, and for Octavian. Did you think the Order simply decided on a whim that it didn’t like Drifters, or that the trackers acted out of envy or fear of the Drifter? We are the world’s last line of defense against its total destruction.”

  “Okay, you’ve made your point.”

  The back of my throat ached, and my heart began racing. I knew that the type of magic a Drifter could do was forbidden, but I didn’t know that the first one brought Cruenti into our world, and, through them, the Black Wolves. It seemed the Order of Wizards had a dual purpose: to train wizards who would help guide the world, and to protect it from the Drifter. To protect it from me. I turned away, not even sure if I could offer any kind of argument or justification. I went inside the house and sensed the moment he cast his Circle of Protection. I felt it extend throughout the property. I stood in the darkness of the kitchen, watching him and expecting him to come inside immediately, but he didn’t. He lingered, and still looked as though he were contemplating those pesky questions he couldn’t find answers to.

  An unnatural quiet and odd glow in the night sky clued me in to the fact that I was in a dream. I stood in the kitchen and gazed through the window that gave view to the garden and guesthouse. The stars in the sky seemed to fade, and I wondered what sort of dream this was.

  Or was this another vision of the future?

  My stomach churned, and I hoped that I could suppress these visions for as long as I could. They always portended something evil or tragic, never anything good. I feared the more I allowed this ability to emerge, the easier it would be for my mask to slip. One other time when I had a vision-dream, I had fallen asleep in a bathtub. I awoke in the flames of Zaman’s Fire while still in the bath water, and Brande had to pull me out and absorb the fire. He said he almost couldn’t handle it.

  I cleared my mind and willed myself to wake up, but it didn’t work. Instead, I felt a presence drawing me upstairs toward my bedroom. I walked through the hallway and headed upstairs, feeling the pull of some unseen force. When I reached my door, a familiar scent of cologne wafted toward me. As soon as I stepped inside, I saw Ken sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, with Veit’s diary cradled in his lap, bundled along with the Turkish papers.

  He had the diary open, and looked up at me with his warm brown eyes. He wore a black shirt and pants, and his blond hair was brushed into a side part. He smiled at me, and I smiled back at him. I didn’t care if this was a dream--I was happy to see him the way I remembered him when he was alive. I walked over and eased onto the floor next to him, and he wrapped his left arm around me and pulled me in closer. His touch felt warm and comforting.

  “I’m going to help you understand this, baby.” He pointed with his right index finger to the page with the celestial symbols.

  This was the oddest...well, one of the oddest dreams I’d ever had. My gaze went from the diary to his face. “How do you know about this? Is this real or a dream?”

  “I’m real. I’m standing over you right now, in your bedroom.”

  Okay, maybe this was the oddest dream I’d ever had. I was far from being a spiritual guru, but I assumed he would’ve already...moved on. I hid my discomfort and pointed to the page he had shown me earlier. “Ken...tell me what you know about this.”

  He withdrew his left arm from around my shoulder and pressed his hand against the text. “The Drifter is an instrument of chastisement. You’re meant to punish an arrogant humanity and make war against people in all times and in all places.”

  “And are Cruenti part of the punishment? They’re helping Hitler slaughter people and take over entire countries. Who said I had to do this to people?” My heart fell in my chest, and despair clutched me.

  “Baby, I know this is hard for you to accept because you have such a sensitive heart, but this is what you are--and I think it’s beautiful.”

  I grew more disturbed. I remembered Neal’s words about the first Drifter, but I didn’t want to accept them. I couldn’t. This description didn’t fit who I was and it didn’t reflect my life. I wanted to see the end of war, and I wanted to help people, not hurt them. Something was wrong here. He saw the worry and confusion on my face and tried to kiss me. I halted him.

  “I believe you when you say you’re real. You’re projecting yourself into my mind as Ken, but tell me who you really are.” I held my palm up, facing forward. The gesture invited him to share some of his magical energy with me so I could identify him. I knew he had some type of magic, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to project himself into my mind like this.

  “Isabella, you know who I am.” He mirrored my action and pressed his palm against mine. He sent a tendril of energy spinning through my arm and spreading throughout my body. I could taste it like metals, and its flavor was sweet, at first, but then turned bitter. It left my mouth dry and my stomach aching.

  It was Ammon--and he sure as hell wasn’t a humble spirit, but a demon.

  In an unsteady voice, I told him, “You’re not welcome in my home, and certainly not in my dreams. I want you to leave.”

  He stared at me, with Ken’s face. “You don’t have the authority to wield my name against me, so don’t try it.”

  “Does Delana know what you are?” I tried every mental trick I could think of in order to pull myself out of the dream. I hoped he couldn’t tell what I was doing.

  Ammon sneered. “I’ll kill her in her sleep one day, and repay her for what she did to me.”

  I slid to my left in order to create a gap between us, and thought he would have an angry outburst. Instead, he extended his hand and stroked my leg. It made me angry that he still looked like Ken.

  I slid away again, out of his reach. “What do you want with the Drifter?”

  I could now see impatience and anger in his eyes. He watched me with a cold look, and spoke. “I’m going to bend you to my will and use you as my instrument. We will do amazing...terrible things.”

  At that, I dropped all subtlety and, jumped to my feet and ran for the door. I let out a strangled cry when I felt him right behind me. As soon as my hand touched the doorknob, everything became a blur, and I woke up in a sweat with my heart racing. I nearly fell out of bed when I got out to check for the diary beneath. It was still there. I turned on the lamp and glanced around the room, trying to shake Ammon’s creepy confession of standing over me. I grabbed the diary and took it with me as I headed to Delana’s room, all the while reaffirming in my mind the decision to send her away. But then I doubted forcing her to pack and go would keep Ammon away.

  My hand quivered as I delivered a few knocks on her door, loud enough to gain her attention but not anyone else’s in the house. I heard her bed creak and her feet pad against the floor. She opened the door and wore a sleepy expression, but didn’t seem surprised or angered at my late night intrusion. She motioned for me to come inside and turned on a lamp sitting on the nightstand. She sat on the bed and gestured for me to do the same.

  “You know why I’m here,” I said. My voice sounded shaky and weak.

  “It was Ammon, wasn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Why are you here? Why did you want to come with me?”

  “Because I believe in Zaman. I believe you can help.”

  “Delana, I’m not even sure if I’ll make it through the rest of this month with so many people wanting me either captured or dead. I’m trying to understand these powers, and I’m still not sure if I even want to use them. If I can re
main an alchemist, then I think I’d choose that. It’s a lot less complicated than being a Drifter.”

  “It won’t last,” she said. “You know it won’t. And that frightens you.”

  “Well does your demon frighten you?” I gripped the diary, shuddering at the thought of Ammon using the appearance of someone I cared about, the man I could have married.

  “I am sorry for bringing this on you, Isabella. I fought Ammon when I was younger, and used an old spell to bind him to me so that he would not go and harm anyone else.”

  “That was foolish,” I told her. “You have a great deal of strength, but you can’t just go around binding demons like that. He told me that he’s going to kill you in your sleep.”

  She looked at me with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “You can destroy him.”

  “Maybe you need an exorcist or something. Have you ever thought about going to the Church for that?”

  “No, an exorcism will only break the binding and send him away. He’ll only find me again, which is why I need him to be destroyed.”

  “Well, guess what, I don’t know how to destroy a demon. Sorry.”

  “If you come into your full power, you will know how.” She reached for the diary and opened it to the exact page Ammon had shown me.

  “What do you know about this?” I asked.

  “Have you interpreted it yet?”

  “I will, in the morning. My brother has a colleague who reads and writes Turkish.”

  “Good. Again, I apologize. I thought that after all these years that perhaps I finally had him under control. Ever since I saw you that day, he’s grown more restless. You’ve changed.”

  “Just be careful, and don’t provoke him. I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything. A Confrontation can be dangerous, which is why we usually left it to clergy to deal with.”

  “Thank you.”

  I closed the diary and stood, giving her one final glance. “How do you live with it? You’ve had him bound to you for years.”