The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  I almost stumbled when I saw a strange man standing at my door. He wore a black fedora and trench coat, and carried a dark brown suitcase. He wore round spectacles, which emphasized his oval face and large, dark eyes.

  “Can I...help you?” I shifted the handbag in front of me. I still wore the nightgown I had borrowed from Jane.

  “Miss George,” he said in a German accent. “I’m Mr. Urbano. Your father sent me.”

  I let the slow burn of Zaman’s Fire rise in me, and I kept it ready. “Urbano is...more Italian than German, don’t you think?”

  He smiled. “Let’s step inside, and I’ll explain to you why I’m here.”

  “Let’s not,” I said.

  He nodded in understanding. “Trust is a precious commodity nowadays. I’ll prove to you that Carson sent me.”

  I still held onto the Fire inside me and tensed. “Okay...Mr. Urbano. Go ahead.”

  “In your most recent meeting with your father, his last words to you were, Put your Fire into the water, and into your heart. Make the ripples and pulses burn.”

  As he spoke to me, I reached out with my senses and inhaled the scent of an enchanter. He was not a mentalist. He couldn’t have read my mind, especially with Nena’s seal still on it. “All right, what does my father want?”

  “Please,” he said, gesturing for us to step inside.

  I pulled out my key and approached the door. Right before I unlocked it, I turned to face him. “One more question...”

  “Yes?” he said.

  “If you’ve been around my father long enough, then you ought to know what his favorite meal is.”

  He grunted, as if calling to mind an unpleasant experience. “Your mother’s baked chicken. Impossible to get, though he always pines for it. I’ve smuggled many a chicken dish for him to no avail.”

  “Then I suppose if he really wants it, then he’ll have to go home.” I unlocked the door and he followed me in and sat down in my large cushioned chair. My cheeks stung with embarrassment when we both screwed our faces up at the stench of undone dishes assaulting our noses from the kitchen. “Sorry about that. I haven’t been here in a while.” I tossed the handbag onto a pile of newspapers sitting in a corner and opened my curtain to let some sunshine in. I ran into my room and threw on a robe and tied it. I came back into the living room.

  He removed his hat to reveal a bald head, and he gazed at me with those large dark eyes. “I was with your father the night he faked his death in Rome sixteen years ago and began running. He wants you to know that he has constantly thought of you, and your mother and brother. At times, when he could, he has watched you all from afar without you even knowing.”

  I just stood there--mainly because all the clutter prevented me from finding a seat. I couldn’t help but smile a little at his words. It comforted me to know that we weren’t completely abandoned by my dad.

  “Thank you...do you have a first name?”

  “Urbano. Just, Urbano.”

  “Why did he send you tonight?”

  “Your father intercepted a message from the U.S. Navy on its way to Joshua Morton of MI6. The naval captain in the Shetland Islands has requested you specifically for a job which will benefit you greatly in regard to your relationship with the Gray Tower.”

  “I’m not sure if you’re aware that I’ve been suspended.”

  “Which is why the message never reached Morton’s desk, and why you will go meet with the naval captain and take the job he will propose.”

  I gestured toward the window that faced the street. I hadn’t forgotten about the MI6 agents stationed outside. “Morton’s men are watching me. If I leave like this, it will ruin me and I’ll be blacklisted. Then I can just add the British government to the list of people who want to capture me.”

  He opened his briefcase and took out a vial filled with a bright red liquid. “May I have a strand of your hair?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that one. “Why?”

  He removed his black gloves and gestured for me to come near. “Please, let’s not waste time.”

  I walked over and twirled a strand of hair around my index finger and yanked it. I handed the strand to him and watched with fascination as he opened the vial and placed the hair inside. He corked the vial shut again and shook it until pink foam formed. He opened the vial and blew into it with a gentle breath. It was a subtle, yet powerful, whisper of magic. When the foam shimmered with brilliant colors, he flicked the vial in the direction opposite of him, toward the window, and let the foam fly out. I thought it would hit my cream-colored curtains with a splatter, but instead it landed on the floor, grew thicker, and rose in height. The pinkish color turned into a light peachy tone, and I began to make out the form of a body, of arms, legs, and a face--my face.

  I gasped and stood to get a better view. I was looking at my double. “This is...very convincing.”

  “If anyone stops by to check on you, she will be here.”

  My double faced me and smiled. “I’m doing fine,” she said. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  I slowly approached and touched her shoulder, which felt real. “Hi, Isabella. Do you want to punch Morton in the face for thinking you’re a traitor?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Very funny. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted. I need to go lie down.” With a flip of her hair, she walked into the bedroom.

  I faced Urbano. “What if someone asks her a question she can’t answer?”

  “She will explode.”

  I frowned. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  He stood. “Don’t worry, she’ll explode as foam and then dissolve. No one will be harmed.”

  “All right, so we’re going up north, to the Shetland Islands?”

  He nodded. “You might want to change into something warm.”

  I went back into the bedroom and put on two shirts, a pair of trousers, along with boots and a sweater. My double lay in bed watching me. It was kind of creepy. When I finished dressing, I turned to her and said, “Goodbye, Isabella.”

  “Goodbye,” she replied. “And good luck.”

  I went back out to meet Urbano. He peered out the window in silence. I went over to look out as well, and saw the lampposts below lighting the dark street, and a fresh pair of Morton’s men sitting in an unmarked car across the street. Someone stood inside a red telephone box toward the left, just a few feet away from the MI6 agents, and two men in suits coming from the direction of the public gardens walked and talked together, coming from the right.

  Urbano gestured for me to stand closer to him. “I’ve sealed your front door so that anyone wishing you harm would have a difficult time entering. It will last even when your double is gone. However, if I go out the door with you, it will weaken the enchantment--so let’s take the window, shall we?”

  I let out a low breath. “My father has some interesting associates.”

  He adjusted his spectacles and pointed out the window. “That man over there, in the red telephone box is a Cruenti, as well as the two men walking down the street, who’ve now apparently stopped to smoke cigars. I doubt this is a coincidence.”

  I was impressed. He detected them before I did. The stench of their tainted magic began trickling through to me. “I don’t think a wizard fight in the middle of the street is going to help us evade MI6.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Now, hold onto me...tightly.” He opened his trench coat and pulled out two black pistols.

  “Okay...” I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on.

  “Hold tightly,” he said once more, prodding me closer to him.

  The window opened and I felt the pull of gravity as he jumped out with me hanging onto him. I shivered as the cool night air brushed against us. Our trip down was quick, but it also felt as if we were floating. As soon as our feet touched the pavement, he extended his arms and pivoted to the right, shooting the two Cruenti who were smoking cigars and watching the building. The bullets must’ve been enchanted, because
the warlocks went down quickly without regenerating.

  I still held onto him, and turned to see the third Cruenti in the red telephone booth to our left run out and rush toward us. The two MI6 agents, one tall and the other short, jumped out of their car and called out to Urbano, referring to him as “Mr. Morton.” An invisible force knocked Urbano’s gun from his left hand, but he immediately drew a shimmering knife and threw it straight at the Cruenti’s head. The blade pierced the Cruenti, right between the eyes. A pop and flash went off, the warlock’s head split, and he collapsed to the ground.

  “What’s happening, Mr. Morton?” the taller agent asked with his weapon drawn. He didn’t even notice me standing there and holding on to Urbano like a needy child.

  “How did you jump out of that window, sir?” the short agent queried, staring directly at Urbano and ignoring me. It seemed, as long as I held on and stayed close to the wizard, I was invisible to the other men.

  “I’m a very good jumper,” Urbano replied. “It was a foiled attack. I’m sure you can clean up this mess.”

  “What about Agent George?” the tall one asked.

  “You can go and check on her for yourselves. I must go now.”

  “Of course, sir.” The short agent slipped his gun back into his holster and gestured to the tall one. They ran into my building.

  “You’re hurting my neck,” Urbano said. “You can let go now.”

  I released him and flashed him an apologetic smile. “I think I’m beginning to like you.”

  “Thank you. Your father trained me.” He motioned toward a black car parked down the street. “Shall we?”

  I wasted no time in following him and jumping inside. He started the car and we took off into the night. I began wondering how meeting the naval captain and accepting his job proposal would help me with the Gray Tower--and if it was all worth it. If I failed at this, then I’d be worse off than I was before.

  34

  “I told you to wear something warm.” Urbano grabbed an extra blanket from the fisherman and wrapped it around my shoulders.

  “I didn’t think it was going to be this cold!” My teeth chattered as the frosty wind whipped my hair in different directions and penetrated the miniscule holes in my thick sweater. Though I also wore socks and boots, my warmest trousers and two shirts, it seemed nothing short of an insulated suit would keep me warm.

  We had been traveling by boat for the last hour, heading north to the island where SOE launched operations to aid Norway across the sea. As a salty spray of water splashed and threatened to hit me in the face, I threw myself in line to be the first one off the boat when we landed. I thanked the boat crew and stepped off. This was my first time in Scalloway harbor, and I felt a surge of pride run through me when I saw the three U.S. submarine chasers in the water. Most of the men running the Shetland Bus operation were fishermen who wanted to join the Resistance, much like the one who escorted Urbano and me here tonight. At least the aid of the naval vessels would ensure more chances of success.

  “Are you going to tell me what the captain wants me for?” I pulled the blanket around me even tighter as we headed toward a man with a flashlight. The darkness made us tread carefully over the uneven terrain.

  “Everything will be explained inside.” Urbano pulled out his own flashlight and clicked a signal toward the other man. We followed him past a few buildings before stopping at a warehouse beneath the ruins of Scalloway Castle.

  “He’s expecting you two inside,” the man told Urbano.

  “Of course,” he shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, William.”

  William acknowledged me with a smile and then went on his way. I hoped that, wherever he was going, that he’d remain safe. We stepped inside and it all looked plain enough. Crates that had been stacked up high stood in rows across the floor, and dusty workstations were lined up and waiting for engineers and mechanics.

  Urbano led me to the farthest corner, where a set of false crates concealed a secret door. He guided us with his flashlight as we went inside and headed down an old stairwell. The stone walls and roof made me think of the castle, and I wondered if we were headed directly beneath it. At the bottom of the stairwell stood a reinforced iron door, one that had an enchantment placed on it. A translucent film of silvery-white covered the door, and, oddly, had been constructed to keep people inside. Urbano knocked twice and a man on the other side answered.

  When he gave a codeword, the door opened and a young naval officer ushered us in. “Captain Skye is waiting for you.”

  “Where are we?” I whispered to Urbano. SOE and the U.S. Navy had set up an entire facility down here, but for what purpose?

  “He’s here, in his office.” The young man rounded a corner and directed us to another iron door with an enchantment. Further down the hallway stood a rectangular gate made of steel bars. Beyond the gate were several doors along the corridor. It reminded me of a hospital--a mental one. Urbano opened the door to the captain’s office and let me step inside first.

  “Welcome to the Shetland Islands, Isabella George,” Captain Skye belted out in a Cajun accent as he gestured for us to take our seats across from him. He smiled at me, but I immediately constructed a mental barrier as a precaution.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Skye...or should I say, Master Skye?”

  He folded his hands beneath his chin and stared at me. “While we’re here, you may call me captain. I haven’t been inside the Gray Tower for quite a while. Urbano, it’s good to see you again.”

  Urbano inclined his head. “Likewise, captain. How long has it been?”

  “Five long years,” the captain said, before facing me again. “He’s never told me how he avoided joining the Order, but somehow managed to be a damned good enchanter. I think the only reason I still speak with him is to get in on the secret.”

  Urbano smirked at the compliment. “On behalf of MI6, I’ve brought you Ms. George.”

  The captain continued holding my gaze, apparently sizing me up. I was doing the same, except it was more like a mouse analyzing a hungry lion. If Roxanna’s powers as a nature wizard could be described as a flame, then Master Skye’s was a roaring fire in comparison.

  “Forgive me,” I said, trying not to dwell on the man’s breadth of magical strength, “but I haven’t been told why I’m needed here.”

  Captain Skye shifted in his seat. “Many agents know about the Shetland Bus, but only a handful are aware of this facility here.”

  “You mean prison,” I said.

  He nodded. “And we only take in special prisoners, if you catch my meaning.”

  “Captain, is there someone--”

  “It’s Nikon Praskovya,” Urbano said.

  I faced the captain. “You brought me here because of Praskovya?”

  “Not just because of her,” Skye hastened to answer. “We’re trying to find the location of the Den.”

  Just as the Gray Tower was the headquarters of the Order of Wizards, the Den was the center of operations for the coven of warlocks led by Octavian Eckhard. Octavian was a Cruenti warlock who led the Black Wolves and made an agreement to aid Hitler in the war. Many suspected that Octavian did this as a distraction, because his ultimate goal was to usurp the Gray Tower and eventually the world. I had fought his brother, Marcellus, during my Paris job, and I remembered how he claimed that he and Octavian were powerful enough to avoid the side effects associated with becoming a Cruenti. Usually, after a few years of being turned into a Cruenti, a warlock would start to degenerate and lose his mental capacities. Physically, he’d turn into a monster, like the ones that fought alongside Ryker.

  I gave Captain Skye a dubious glance. “I thought the Den was at Nuremberg Castle.”

  “That may be true,” the captain said, “however, I happen to believe that while Hitler’s occult items are there, Octavian is not. No, he’s too smart for that.”

  Urbano spoke up. “Some sources claim otherwise. Nuremberg’s guarded by en
ough Black Wolves to level a small country. If the place were only full of artifacts, then a small handful would’ve sufficed.”

  Skye leaned back, neither put off nor riled by our doubts. “Several Masters would agree with you, Urbano, but I happen to disagree with those Masters.”

  “Exactly,” I said with just a little too much gratification in my tone. “They can be mistaken, just like anyone else.”

  Captain Skye gazed into my eyes. “Isabella, I want you to help us with Praskovya because we believe she’s been to the Den, that she has spoken with Octavian face-to-face.”

  I nodded. “Believe me, I’d love to crack her, find out where the Den is and get to Octavian. This war needs to end. But...I don’t think it’s going to work.”

  I wasn’t trying to be a Doubting Thomas, but Skye probably chose me because I knew Praskovya’s strengths and weaknesses better than anyone else. The problem was that she knew mine as well, and she had no conscience or morals holding her back.

  “Isabella,” Skye leaned forward, “I’m aware of your history with Praskovya and can understand why you’re hesitant to speak with her. If you don’t want to do this, then you are certainly free to go. But if you help us on this, and we find the Den, then both the Gray Tower and the world will be in your debt.”

  The Gray Tower indebted to me--this was the benefit Urbano spoke about, and what my father wanted me to achieve. “I suppose I can go talk with her, but what if she doesn’t want to speak with me?”

  Skye smiled. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. Let’s go and pay her a visit.”

  We rose from our seats, and I hid my shock when I noticed Skye reaching for a cane and using it to stand. Though the hair at his temples grayed, the rest was full and dark, and not a single wrinkle etched his face.