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The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

Page 37

by Alesha Escobar


  She frowned. “He drove my sister to suicide and terrorized my family. If you’ve seen everything I have, then you would want to protect others from it. I knew he might’ve killed me, but, at the time, I believed I had no other choice.”

  “I’m sorry about your family. I’ll try to help in whatever way I can.”

  I cradled the diary in my arms and headed out. Instead of going to my bed, I went to my mother’s room. I had no qualms about jumping into her bed like a scared little ten year old and curling up under her sheets. I refused to sleep alone tonight.

  “What?” My mother said, turning toward me, “Did your fake fiancé call off the never-was-gonna-happen wedding and run off?”

  “I had a nightmare.”

  “Must’ve been some nightmare.”

  More than a nightmare, it was a message. Ammon wanted me to know that he would find a way to kill Delana and break free so that he could pursue me. Not a very welcome message, if you asked me. I shook off his horrible words and consoled myself with the knowledge that he could never make me do anything against my will. The only question was, would I be strong enough when I had to Confront him, or would he use every half-truth, temptation and wile in order to weaken my resolve.

  30

  Johnnie looked like he wanted to throttle me when I showed up to his class. I didn’t make a fuss and sat in the back as he lectured to his students. I wanted to feel indignant about his anger, but I knew that if I were in his position that I’d feel the same way. Actually, I had been in his position. I resented everyone who kept secrets that affected my life, even when it was to protect me. Now it seemed I did the same thing and tried to justify it. I could admit it wasn’t fair, but what else was I supposed to do?

  When he dismissed his students and they all shuffled out, I locked the door behind them and claimed his chair. “Sometimes the truth is dangerous, Johnnie.”

  “Let me decide what to do. Let me at least have the choice.” He wore the same expression as that day our father whisked me away, when I was no older than ten.

  “Then...for now, at least, whatever I show you here...you can’t tell anyone else.” I pulled out the diary and loose papers.

  He crossed his arms “I think the only reason you’re doing this is because you need Dr. Grey.”

  “I need you too, Johnnie.” His statement was hurtful, but I didn’t blame him.

  He turned and walked over to his chalkboard, his shoulders and back straightened. I couldn’t tell what expression he wore on his face, but I could feel that what I said had affected him. All he truly wanted was my honesty, and my trust.

  I spread the diary and loose pages across Johnnie’s desk. He took a few seconds to view the diary pages, and then started nodding. “The first three pages are in Turkish.”

  “Astute observation, professor. What else can you tell me?”

  “I can tell you that this double page here with the constellations and symbols isn’t a map at all. It’s a code.”

  I knew it. “Good...what else?”

  “Now, mind you, I’m not fluent, but the Turkish pages in this diary have nothing to do with the code.”

  “How much would you like to wager it goes with the loose papers I got from Robert Cambria?”

  He took a look at the other texts lying next to the diary. “You’re right, it does.”

  “What can you make out from the diary?”

  “It speaks of a wizard named Zaman, but he may just be an archetype and not a real person.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, Zaman is Turkish for time.”

  I perked up. “It’s talking about a time wizard.”

  He gave me an odd look and then browsed the Turkish page again. “It says that...I don’t even know if I’m reading this correctly...Zaman passes through fire.”

  I drew in a quick breath. “So whenever Zaman passes through fire, that’s when he travels through time?”

  Johnnie stuttered. “I-I really can’t be completely sure about that. Maybe if this were in Persian or Arabic--”

  “Does it say anything about how Zaman controls this?”

  He paused. “I’m not sure what these other parts are saying. What does this have to do with you? Is Zaman real?”

  His eyes told me that I had better not even think about lying or shying away from answering. “Yes.”

  He frowned. “How real?”

  “If I tell you, then promise me you’ll go see Roxanna...”

  He let out an incredulous laugh. “Rachel’s book club pal? I hardly think--”

  “Promise me you’ll see her and ask her to set up a protective barrier around today’s memory.”

  “She’s a wizard?”

  I nodded. “I’m not spilling another word unless you promise to do it.”

  His expression grew serious. “I promise. Now tell me.”

  “What would you say if Zaman was someone you knew?”

  He gazed at me. “But Zaman’s a he. At least according to this text.”

  “What if...fate chose a female Zaman? I bet no one saw that coming.”

  He pulled back. “You can’t be serious?”

  I shook my head. “Johnnie, our father isn’t dead. He’s been fooling everyone, making them believe--”

  “Why?” he asked in an angry tone that took me by surprise. “Why would he do that?”

  He looked hurt, and he gazed at me as if I were part of the deception. “I didn’t even know Dad was alive until earlier this year when I was in Paris. Believe me, I was just as shocked as you are now.”

  “So after all these years, he never once thought to contact us? Or Mom? Even if it’s just to let us know he was alive?”

  “He had his reasons.”

  His eyes narrowed. “When were you planning on telling us about him? Or was this something only you were supposed to know because you’re a wizard?”

  “Johnnie, it’s not like that.”

  “Then explain it to me, so I can understand.”

  This was just another reason for me to be angry with my father. He should be the one explaining all this to Johnnie and Mom. “The Gray Tower believes I’m dangerous.” I reached for his hand and held it. “The Masters believe I shouldn’t exist.”

  “No...” he shook his head. “They’re wrong.”

  “I feel the same way, Johnnie. Luckily, they don’t know that it’s me they want. Our father made them believe he’s Zaman--or as we call it in the West, the Drifter. He did it to save me.”

  He still looked like he didn’t believe me. “Is he really alive?”

  “Yes, and I wanted you and Mom to be able to see him. He’s supposed to see me before the end of the year.”

  “And those texts he left you, why do you need them interpreted?”

  “To understand what it means to be the Drifter. To understand how to control my powers so I can show them that I’m not some time bomb waiting to go off.”

  He started when we heard a knock. With a nervous expression, he went over to unlock the door and welcomed in a man who looked to be in his thirties. The man wore a crisp white shirt and gray tie, and had vibrant brown eyes. His dark wavy hair was as thick as Johnnie’s.

  My brother cleared his throat. “This is Dr. Michael Grey...and Michael, this is my sister, Isabella.”

  Dr. Grey approached and shook my hand. “A pleasure, Miss George. Jonathan has mentioned you before. He told me you’ve been in London.”

  “Yes, perhaps we’ve crossed paths there before?” His accent definitely made him a Londoner. Why did he seem so familiar to me?

  “I’m afraid not, but I’ll be returning there next year. If you’re acquainted with Sir Edwin Grey, then you’ve met my father.”

  Everything suddenly connected. “Do you have a sister around my age? And she likes to spend a lot of time in France?”

  He laughed. “Yes, that would be Nora.”

  So Adelaide was Nora Grey. I wondered if he knew his sister was an SOE agent. She helped me get safely back t
o London when I had finished my Paris job. “I’m very glad to meet you. Your sister is a friend of mine.”

  “Michael,” Johnnie said as he handed the loose papers to him, “we would like you to take a look at these texts.”

  “Very well, then.” He smiled and then examined the papers. “This...this is from Mehmed VI’s private collection. Where did you get these?”

  “A wizard of the Gray Tower gave them to me.” I handed him the diary.

  “This is amazing.” He seemed to barely breathe as he read through the papers. “Most texts from the Ottoman Empire, that I’ve read, only dealt with law, history, and religion...but this is the first I’ve encountered where it discussed wizards.”

  “I managed to make out a few words and phrases about Zaman,” Johnnie said. “Can you tell us anything more?”

  “It says that Zaman is considered wise, a leader...someone who upholds righteousness. Did you see this part about passing through fire?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “How does Zaman control that?”

  He took out his pen and began scribbling on a sheet of paper. “Well the real question, at least for me, is why are these symbols in here?”

  As he began copying from Heilwig’s celestial code and the papers, Johnnie asked, “Is there even an advantage to Zaman using his abilities?”

  Dr. Grey turned the notepad toward us so we could see what he wrote. “I think you have more profound matters to consider. The thirteenth sign of the zodiac is Ophiuchus, the serpent. His position in the sky is between the tip of Scorpio’s tail and Sagittarius’s arrow.”

  Jonathan examined the symbols again. “The Dark Rift...”

  “You mean the Milky Way, in the center of the universe?” I glared at them when they both gaped at me as if expecting anything else but that question to come from my mouth. “I do read, you know.”

  “Of course,” Dr. Grey blustered, “yes, that’s quite right.”

  “So how does the alignment of the stars relate to Zaman?” I hoped no one expected me to start reading palms and consulting Hollywood types or the president.

  Dr. Grey continued. “Zaman would probably have the ability to use the information, written in the heavens if you will, to predict and even guide future events. Think of the universe as an open book and the stars are part of its language.”

  “This is what the Masters call the Akashic Record,” I said. “And what about that number?” I pointed to the “23.5” written near the center of the page.

  “The Greek mathematician Eratosthenes was the first to discover that the earth is tilted at a 23.5 degree angle,” Johnnie said. “No one really knows why the earth is tilted like this, but it’s the reason why we have four seasons.”

  Dr. Grey nodded. “Some philosophers and astronomers believe that the earth once stood upright, no tilt whatsoever. Could you imagine what that would be like today?”

  “Perpetual spring,” I murmured.

  Johnnie snapped his fingers.“ The Garden of Eden!”

  “Except we’re broken.” Dr. Grey set aside his copy of the notes. “A 23.5 degree tilt to the earth’s axis means we’re existing in an unnatural and destructive state.”

  “So...is it up to Zaman to fix this unnatural state?” I asked.

  “Who’s to say a previous Zaman isn’t the one who caused it to begin with?” Dr. Grey frowned.

  “But we don’t know that,” I told him, though a small part of me feared the possibility of the Order being justified in putting the Drifter to death.

  He began copying more notes. “Aside from the mystical meanings...just the real world ramifications of this are astounding. Isabella, have you thought about talking to Dr. Sheridan?”

  When I looked askance at Johnnie, he whispered, “It’s Jim...remember him from poker night?”

  I nodded. The handsome Vincent Price look-alike. “Jim Sheridan? Of course.”

  Dr. Grey wore a huge grin and translated more of the texts for us. “Here are the Turkish meditative spells translated into English. I suspect you’d want to go the route of theurgy on this. Studying the translated spells will allow you to understand how Zaman controls his abilities.”

  I began collecting the loose papers and stuffing them back into the diary. “Thank you.”

  His smile faded, and he gave me a sidelong glance. “You’re...not leaving the papers with me?”

  I snorted. “No, why?”

  “Just these few pages trump all the work I’ve been doing on Mehmed VI’s collection this past year. It’s no exaggeration when I say they pale in comparison. This could help us understand why war and destruction are raging through our world today, and it may even give us answers on everything from world peace to advances in technology and human enlightenment.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, but this isn’t necessarily something I want shouted from the mountaintops.”

  He gave me a knowing look. “Ah, I understand perfectly now. You want to keep this a family discovery--it’s rather endearing actually.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want you and Jonathan to know that I’m willing to incorporate this into my existing project and share the credit with you. And let’s suppose any financial benefit proceeding from the lectures and tours can be split...fifty-fifty.”

  “You are nothing like your sister,” I said. “You call yourself a scholar? It seems you’re only interested in something if it has money attached to it or boosts your reputation.”

  He raised a finger. “If I didn’t translate this for you and provide those explanations, you’d be lost right now.” He faced Johnnie. “I’m sorry, Jonathan, but you would have had better luck explaining that the dog chased the ball in Turkish than interpreting the rest of the texts on your own.”

  “Go to hell,” my brother retorted.

  Dr. Grey tensed and then abruptly shoved the remaining papers toward us. “You’re making a mistake, Jonathan. There’s a missing page, which you’ll undoubtedly return begging me to interpret.”

  “There is no missing page,” I snapped back. He wanted to find any excuse to get his hands on the texts again.

  He stood and stalked away, leaving the classroom door wide open. I reached for the remaining papers and suddenly realized that he still had those handwritten copies. For a moment, I was frozen in shock. Of all the powerful people who would’ve loved to get their hands on that text--and have tried--the one person to swipe it was a smug college professor with scrawny legs and a sense of entitlement.

  “Johnnie--”

  “He took his copies!” He dashed out of the classroom after him. I shoved everything else into my black handbag before joining the pursuit. They were already outside the building and heading north, toward College Yard. I caught up to Johnnie and widened my distance from him so we could try to flank Michael near the Peabody House, but a group of gawking students got in our way and slowed us down. Johnnie saw him run in the direction of the physics labs, but when we got over there, Dr. Grey had vanished.

  I ran my hands through my hair and growled. I shook my head and looked at Johnnie in disbelief. My brother had a pained look on his face, and I knew he felt horrible. Dr. Grey may not have intended to hand his copies over to our enemies, but his decision to keep them and do whatever he wanted with them would likely end up accomplishing the same end.

  With heavy breaths, I pulled away from Johnnie when he tried to grab my hand and guide me back toward his classroom. In my head, I knew this wasn’t his fault, but I was so angry that I didn’t want him to touch me or talk to me right then.

  “I’m sorry, Izzy,” he whispered, walking alongside me and staring at the ground.

  All I could think of was how this would be used against me. The moment Dr. Grey would speak to the wrong person or announce the existence of the pages, both the Gray Tower and Octavian’s warlocks would seek to gain hold of them. They’d find out that he got the information from me, and then the question would arise as to why I would be in possession of these texts.

>   When I glanced at my brother and saw his heartbroken expression, I relented and grabbed his hand. “It’s...not your fault, Johnnie.”

  “I’m actually supposed to work with him on the Suleiman project tomorrow. Maybe I could...”

  “No, this was my responsibility. I’ll have to deal with it.” For a fleeting second I did think about Johnnie confronting Dr. Grey later, but seeing how the man operated, he would probably call for security and accuse my brother of harassment, or even try to harm his reputation.

  As we passed College Yard and headed southward, toward the classroom, we spotted Johnnie’s poker pals, Frankie and Dillon. “Dr. George,” Frankie said, “would you and Isabella like to join us for lunch?”

  My subtle expression directed at Johnnie indicated my answer. “We were actually going to have lunch at home today. Perhaps tomorrow?”

  He looked slightly disappointed. “We’ll see you later, then.”

  They said goodbye to us and continued on their way. When we made it back to his classroom, I made sure to lock the door. I didn’t want any further interruptions. Johnnie had reopened the diary and began looking through the translated spells.

  He looked at me with a worried expression. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I have to be able to control this. I don’t have a choice.”

  “Seems like you were doing just fine as an alchemist.”

  “I thought so too, but the truth is that I may not be one for long, not if the mask slips.”

  “All right, then. How about we start with this one?” He held up one of the translated notes. It was called Zaman’s Fire, and explained how to detect the onset of the mysterious fire that periodically engulfed me since I was a child.

  The instruction said that I could control the fire and use it either as a shield or a weapon. Brande had once absorbed the fire, but he claimed it was almost too powerful, even though elementals normally absorbed flames without harm. There was a simple meditative exercise I needed to do each morning so that the flames would be under my control. Johnnie also read through some spells with me that were meant to slow or speed up the flow of time around me, and how to access the Akashic Record.

 

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