The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  “We could be at the embassy tonight.” My body shook with a spasm, and I grimaced at the pain in my back and arms.

  Brande saw it and shook his head. “You need to rest and eat. Then we’ll ride across the border. At this rate, you won’t be able to do anything but lie in bed with a fever.”

  With a sigh, I turned to stare at the starlit sky and wondered what was happening with my brother, mother, and sister-in-law. Did Octavian’s Den have prison cells? Would he throw them into a dark room with no food or water? Or would he have them tortured? If Lyov Praskovya was Octavian’s pride and joy, then I could only imagine what the so-called Cruenti Master would do to my family while they were in his clutches. I remembered the alchemist, Veit Heilwig, whose wife Rosa had been kidnapped by Octavian so that Heilwig would make alchemical weapons for the Nazis. Both Heilwig and his wife were dead now.

  I faced Brande. “When I last saw my mother, I argued with her. Now I wish I could take back the things I said.”

  “I’m sure she knows how you feel deep down. And you’ll get to tell her, when you go rescue her.” He guided me back inside to take a seat on the sofa. The room was wide and spacious, and the high-backed chairs and ornate flowery rugs reminded me of an aristocrat’s home.

  There was a hesitant knock at the door, and Signor Alighieri, with his sparse white hair and impeccable smile, shuffled into the room. He brought in a tray carrying a bowl of soup, a carafe, and glasses. “I thought you could use this,” he said to Brande.

  “Thank you,” Brande replied with a respectful nod, taking the tray and walking it over to the small dining table in the far left corner.

  Signor Alighieri clasped his hands and gazed at me. I wondered if he now viewed me as a freak of nature. “Your friends are in the main dining room downstairs. Perhaps, if you are feeling well enough, you can join us for dinner.”

  “Thank you for the offer.” I forced a grin.

  Signor Alighieri headed for the door and opened it, but turned to me once again, this time, with a more serious expression. “I wasn’t certain if I should bring this up, but...I have a great-nephew who was at the Gray Tower. His name is Damiano.”

  I nodded in understanding. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him, but if I hear anything of his whereabouts, I promise to let you know.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. And what of the Master Wizards?”

  A lump caught in my throat as I thought of Master Lan’s demise, and of those whose fates I was unsure. Brande spared me from having to answer.

  “Some died bravely defending the Tower. They made it possible for many survivors to escape. Others are travelling to neutral territory, like us.”

  The old man licked his lips and looked ready to ask for specific names, but then simply wagged his head. “Please...be careful. Mussolini’s men may stand between you and the Swiss border. The Nazis may have already informed them about you.”

  When Alighieri left, I turned and went to reclaim my place on the sofa. Brande went over to the tray with the carafe and poured a glass of water. After drinking his fill, he gestured toward the food. “The soup is for you, by the way.”

  My jaw tightened. “I’m not hungry.”

  I hadn’t eaten since morning, but I still trained. I had stayed out in the garden by myself and kept casting my Circadian Circles. I even squeezed in another mental defense lesson with Mehara. No one could accuse me of being idle. Or afraid. Or weak. Once we reached Switzerland in the morning, I’d be ready to go after Octavian and his coven as the Drifter.

  “You haven’t eaten all day.” Brande brought the bowl of soup over.

  “What are you going to do, force-feed me?” I crossed my arms.

  “The thought has crossed my mind,” he said with a smirk. He towered over me, with his tall muscular build, and handed me the bowl.

  “Fine.” I grabbed the spoon he handed me and dipped it into the bowl.

  He looked pleased when he saw me take a few spoonfuls. I made it halfway through the bowl and then finally set it aside. It was all I could do for now. My stomach felt like it was tied into a hundred knots, and both tension and adrenaline pumped through me, making me feel as if I could go another day without eating.

  “That’s better,” he said in his deep voice, kneeling in front of me and pulling me toward him. He gave me a kiss.

  “This is better.” I wrapped my arms around his neck in an embrace as he began planting a trail of kisses from behind my ear and down my neck.

  Isabella...are you there?

  I rolled my eyes. It was Sadik. Sometimes he’d reach out to me mentally just to send me some thoughts or let me know what was going on. At the moment, I really didn’t feel compelled to know what was going on. I’m a little busy right now, Sadik. I’ll speak with you later.

  Isabella?

  This isn’t a good time.

  We have guests. You won’t believe who’s--

  That’s swell. Really. I’ll talk with you later! I moaned softly in response to Brande’s ministrations.

  Oh...well, I just thought I’d let you know that your father’s on his way upstairs.

  “What?” I said aloud, as everything came to a screeching halt.

  A couple of loud knocks on the door confirmed it. Why did my father knock like the police? With a sigh, Brande pulled away. He stood and went to answer the door while I adjusted my blouse. When Brande opened it, my father stepped in and met his gaze. He wasn’t as tall as Brande, but somehow managed to stare him straight in the face without tilting his head all that much.

  Brande cleared his throat. “It’s good to see that you’re safe, Carson.” He turned to face me. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  My father watched Brande leave with a critical eye, but then turned toward me with a huge smile. I rose from my seat and rushed over to him, throwing my arms around him and giving him a tight squeeze.

  “I’m so glad to see you, Dad.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  His eyes were bright but a little sad. He looked at me as if he were seeing a long-lost friend or someone who he thought dead. “I’m sorry about the Gray Tower. I wanted to avoid what happened. And...I also know that Octavian’s warlocks have kidnapped Mary, Johnnie, and Rachel. We’ll get them back.”

  “Dad, we lost a lot of people just making it here to Italy. They’ve killed too many of our wizards. Octavian knew exactly what he was doing when he attacked the Tower and sent warlocks into the region. At this rate, I’ll need a whole army of wizards to attack the Den.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Keeping the trackers away from you wasn’t the only thing I’ve been up to all these years.”

  I scratched his dark beard, speckled with grays. “So what have you been doing besides growing this out?”

  He smiled. “Let’s have dinner, and then I’ll take you to meet them.”

  “Who?”

  He turned and walked toward the door. He opened it and faced me. “Your army.”

  I managed to eat some fruit and drink a cup of tea while everyone else feasted on glazed pork, hearty potatoes, and side dishes of cheese and apples. Signor Alighieri sat at the head of the dinner table, speaking in a hushed tone with my father and the Master Alchemist, Cathana Erin. I was relieved to see she had made it. Though I wasn’t able to spend a lot of time with her at the Tower, what I did pick up was that she was a genuine person who believed in honesty and fairness. She was also the most skilled alchemist I’d ever seen. The last time I saw Cathana, she was fighting off Black Wolves during the attack on the Gray Tower.

  Mehara sat across from Joran Macaskill, an Elite nature wizard from the Gray Tower. Joran was gruff, broad chested, and completely smitten by Cathana. I was glad to see him with her, but wondered if he harbored any resentment toward Brande and me. Joran was the dungeon guard at the Gray Tower and tried to prevent Brande from breaking me out--that didn’t end well for Joran. My shoulders tightened with a wave of nervousness creeping up on me, and I glanced at Cliff and Sadik, who chatted exc
itedly with each other. My gaze then went to Brande and Gregory, and they seemed to be engaged in deep conversation with each other. Izsak had gone off to Signor Alighieri’s library, and Praskovya opted to take her meal in her room, shutting herself away. That left me at the end of the table with the final guest who had arrived along with my dad--Father Gabriel di Crocifissa. Father Gabriel was a priest with the abilities of an elemental wizard, and he served at the Gray Tower as an ambassador for the Vatican.

  “You don’t look well,” Father Gabriel said with a concerned expression.

  “The last few days have been difficult,” I said, finishing my tea. I wondered what Father Gabriel knew about Ammon, and what to do about the demon. The last time I had asked the priest about it, he nearly had a heart attack and told me that I was in danger. I supposed, in light of recent events, he was correct.

  “You will be glad to know that Ambassador Casey is safe and en route to the United States.” He cut into his meat with his knife and fork.

  “Paul’s alive? Thank goodness.” Paul Casey was the U.S. ambassador to the Gray Tower, and had tried helping me while I was there, trying to garner support for my cause as the Drifter.

  Father Gabriel nodded. “At first, Ambassador Casey was captured in Czechoslovakia by the local authorities. When they confirmed his identity, they decided to ransom him back to your country.”

  I smiled a little, imagining Paul with his quick wit and ability to negotiate, obtaining a deal with his captors instead of being handed over to the Nazis. I told him that if he ever ran for president, that I’d vote for him. “Well, at least I’m receiving some good news for a change.”

  He leaned toward me and spoke in a low voice. “Did you resolve your issue? The one we last spoke of?”

  It looked like I wasn’t the only one thinking about how to whack a demon. I’d be embarrassed to talk about it at the dinner table, though. “Let’s talk privately, Father.”

  One of the maids came and took our plates away, asking us if we wanted wine or dessert. We both declined and excused ourselves, going out the back door that opened into the stone terrace with its wide garden. A thicket of large trees stood just across from us at the edge of the garden, and I could hear the constant flow of the Adige River on the other side.

  I took a seat on a cushioned chair sitting on the terrace, and Father Gabriel took the seat next to me. With our faces half lit from the house and half swallowed in the night’s shadow, I took a deep breath and unburdened myself. I told him about Ammon appearing from Jakab’s summoning circle, how I had allowed the demon to siphon energy from me, and the surprise attack at the warehouse in Zagreb. I left out the part about his visit earlier today in the garden. That, I could tell to no one. Gabriel patiently listened, and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. When I finished speaking, I clasped my hands together and let out a nervous breath.

  He gazed at me. “The demon is only allowed to reach so far--fear, a lack of faith, or holding on to a vice that will allow an open doorway for him will only empower him, so he can wear you down. He will use any means of attack.”

  I nodded. “What do you know about Ammon? Why were you so concerned when I mentioned him?”

  He sat up straight in his seat. “All my life, I’ve had a heightened sense of intuition, a sixth sense, if you will. When I was a young boy, one of Ammon’s haunts was a neglected Asclepius statue in the gardens at my school. No one believed me when I said that the statue had moved several feet forward from where it last stood, and I dared not mention that I heard a voice emerge from its stone throat.”

  I gripped my knees and frowned. “What happened?”

  “He began harassing me, as he has done you, and several others with magical abilities. Some have withstood the test, and I’ve unfortunately seen others fail and destroy themselves. One day I finally decided that I would fight against him with my faith. So, I became a priest. I haven’t encountered him since my childhood, but I’ve studied about him, and he is not to be underestimated.”

  I believed him. I thought I’d never see Ammon again after I had an exorcist cast him out, and now Ammon was visiting me and instructing me on how to use my abilities. Father Gabriel probably hadn’t encountered Ammon for so many years because the gypsy woman Delana had fought the demon and tethered him to her.

  Gabriel raised his hand and gave me a silent blessing. “One day, you should come to me for a proper confession.”

  “I’m not even Catholic.”

  He smiled and patted my shoulder. We both turned toward the glass panel double doors when my father opened them and stepped onto the terrace. He gave Gabriel a nod as he approached. “I apologize for interrupting, but we’re ready to show her, Father.”

  “Shall we?” Gabriel said, offering his arm.

  I rose from my seat and took hold, throwing them both a dubious glance. “So, you put together an army for the Drifter?”

  My dad smirked. “And it’s quite spectacular, if I do say so myself.”

  59

  Signor Alighieri’s driver dropped us off at a nearby church. When my dad ushered us toward the back, where a canopied shrine stood, I looked askance at Father Gabriel, who walked at my side. My dad went ahead of us and approached the shrine, with its beautiful statues keeping silent watch, and carefully touched one of the crosses displayed.

  The cross made a smooth backward motion and then froze. What sounded like mechanical gears began groaning and clanking as cogs meshed with one another, and a secret entrance right, at the foot of the shrine, opened itself to us, revealing a dimly lit stairway leading underground. I followed my dad downward until we reached a door reinforced with strips of iron. The hum of a powerful enchantment resonated beneath the cold metal. It was clearly made to keep anyone meaning harm away from this place. My dad placed his hand in the middle of the door, which didn’t have a knob or handle, and it shimmered and swirled with colors.

  When the door opened of its own accord, the three of us stepped inside, and my jaw dropped. We stood on a second-tier level overlooking an entire facility that resembled something the military would build. Dozens of people of different nationalities trained and practiced forms on the main floor. My fingers tingled with the build-up of energy as I detected their magical auras--alchemists, elementals, mentalists, and nature wizards.

  I glanced to the right and saw a room closed off with a glass casing and door. Men and women in white lab coats used microscopes and operated mechanical devices. Above them, on the second-tier, stood a short bald man in a dark suit. I grinned when I saw a tall man in a trench coat, fedora, and round spectacles standing next to the short man--Mr. Urbano. When Urbano turned and waved toward me, I waved back. It was good to see him again. Mr. Urbano was a German enchanter sent by my father to assist me when I was in London. If Urbano hadn’t helped me secure my Spanish mission, I probably wouldn’t have captured the magical talisman that led to the Den. The thought made me all the more anxious to reach Switzerland and have MI6 send the talisman to us.

  The short man standing next to Urbano pointed to a large world map hanging against the wall, and I noticed that certain countries and cities had been marked with different symbols. I wondered what they meant.

  My father stood to my right, watching the whole operation with approval on his face. “When I faked my death in Rome, I stayed at the Vatican.”

  I nodded. “Signor Alighieri told me.”

  “For years, the Church has been building an organization of trained wizards to match the Gray Tower.”

  The Gray Tower would accept the Vatican’s ambassadors because the Master Wizards were curious about people who could control their magical abilities without Tower training--and the Vatican wanted to learn and enhance the Tower’s methods of training.

  I squeezed my father’s hand. “And you agreed to train the Vatican wizards if they helped you stay out of the Gray Tower’s reach?”

  He smiled. “Fooling the Gray Tower into believing I was the Drifter and making sure they
didn’t catch me was a huge task. If I didn’t have the assistance of loyal friends within the Tower, and those from the Vatican, I don’t know if it could’ve been accomplished.”

  “Did the Tower even suspect there was a wizard army being built in places like these?”

  “Only Master Ekwueme knew, and, at first, he was irate. The Order of Wizards prides itself on being the sole institution that trains wizards. Many of us even believed that it was impossible to learn to control one’s magical abilities without Tower training.”

  I had been guilty of such an attitude. When I had first met Father Gabriel, I kept pestering him about his training and was even distrustful of him. He had the abilities of an elemental wizard, but believed his powers were a gift. At that time, it had never occurred to me that not everyone wanted to join the Gray Tower. There were also clans of gypsies who never cared for the Tower either, and they did just fine on their own with their magic. The Tower had always characterized the gypsies’ abilities as inferior or even dangerous. Octavian had been so obsessed with usurping the Gray Tower that he probably didn’t think any parallel wizardry institution was worth the attention.

  I faced my dad. “But why does the Vatican even care about the Drifter, or what the Gray Tower does to the Drifter?”

  Father Gabriel chimed in. “I once told you that the Church never interfered with the Gray Tower when it came to the Drifter. Well, we never interfered openly. Back in the 16th Century, we truly believed Nostradamus to be a prophet and healer, and we thought the Gray Tower would leave him alone since he was widely known and highly esteemed. However, when we found that trackers had killed him, we decided that we would need to act more swiftly to help Drifters, though you are the first we’ve succeeded in protecting. Michel de Nostradame could have proven to the Tower four hundred years ago what I believe about you today--that the Drifter can be a healer. A gift.”