The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  “I promise. I promise I won’t accept any more offers or make any further deals with him.”

  Gabriel gave me a curt nod. “Please, make sure that you keep your promise.”

  Brande ran his hands through his short dark hair and leaned forward. “You said this demon has a pattern.”

  Gabriel went over to the desk near the bed and pulled a small black book from the drawer. He opened it and handed it to me. “He’s a crossroad demon. He preys on people, especially wizards, through making offers and having them accept. He does it three times, and with each acceptance he gains power and influence over the person. The third offer is always the final one, because through it, he destroys the person.”

  I browsed Gabriel’s shorthand notes written in Italian. It listed the names of several people who had fallen victim to Ammon, along with their circumstances, dates, and locations. I even saw a few spells listed that I had never heard of, such as Golden Crown, which looked like a protective spell, and Vis Vires, which was a binding. It seemed Cruenti warlocks weren’t the only things Father Gabriel was hunting. I cleared my throat. “I’ve accepted two offers already. I allowed a tethering in order to get the Mehmed VI page, even though I ended up cutting him loose. Then, I accepted his offer to help save my dad.”

  Brande rose to his feet, and I almost smiled because I thought he would come over and protectively wrap his arms around me. Instead, he crossed his arms and turned to Gabriel. “So, all we have to do is make sure Isabella never accepts another offer. Would she be able to refuse him if she went with us to the Den? Ammon would use her family against her.”

  My chest tightened with a rush of heartache and anger. I could understand if he was upset and disappointed, but it wasn’t his place to decide that I should not join everyone in this mission. “Brande, I understand the gravity of the situation. I know what’s at stake. I made a mistake--two mistakes, and I’m paying for them. But don’t tell me I should stay behind. You heard my father, it’s up to me to save Johnnie, and Mom, and Rachel. And they have my friend Bianca too, and if we don’t reach her before that stupid sacrificial ceremony, we’ll lose her.”

  Brande lowered his gaze and faced me. “I understand. But coming along with us puts the entire group at risk, including those we’re trying to save.”

  It was hard to argue against him after the things I had done. I didn’t dare ask him if he had any confidence in me, because I was afraid to ask myself the same question. But, despite my failings, I knew that I had to be there for my family. Although I kept denying it, I was at least the unofficial head of this counter-movement. The wizards gathered here came because they believed the Drifter was one of the good guys, ready to stand with them against Octavian and the Black Wolves. What would happen if I suddenly backed out?

  “I see your point, but it isn’t your place to tell me not to go.”

  “I’m your husband. And I am telling you to stay.”

  My jaw dropped. He couldn’t say that to me! “Well in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the type of girl--”

  “Please,” Father Gabriel said as he took the black book from my grasp. “Don’t let this tear you apart. I wedded you just a few hours ago, and already this has taken away your peace.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, and at this rate, we’re not going to have a consummation, either.”

  Brande frowned. “Isabella--”

  Father Gabriel sighed. “I swear, this is the last time I’ll do a spontaneous wedding. Lord, help me.”

  I clenched my teeth and faced Gabriel. “You said you’ve been studying Ammon, keeping track of him. Do you know how to destroy him?”

  “All of the existing information points to a spell that undoes his power and weakens him to the point where an exorcism will do the job. However, it’s been difficult to obtain and use this spell.”

  “Why?”

  “The spell is in the Grand Grimoire, which I don’t have...and even if I did, it would be sacrilege for me to recite anything from that book.”

  I gasped. The image of Ammon ripping out the page with his name and burning it came to mind. “He destroyed it. That’s why he used me to break into Nuremberg Castle. He wanted to get rid of his one weakness.”

  My eyes watered, and I felt like someone might as well had come along and kicked me. Gabriel saw my crestfallen expression. “Isabella, the spell book was only a possible way to weaken Ammon, but it wasn’t the only way. We just need to find another method. Is there anything else you can remember from your trip to Nuremberg?”

  “Well, I remember there were a few more pages ripped out of the Grimoire and I--he stuffed it into my pockets.” I reached into the deep sides of my navy blue pants, but nothing turned up. “That’s odd. I remember Ammon placing them into my pockets, and I never took them out.”

  The door creaked open, and Master Moreau stood leaning against the doorframe. He held a few wrinkled pages between his fingers as if holding a dirty diaper. “You were looking for these?”

  We all gazed at him in silence. I cleared my throat. “Master Moreau...”

  “I had just finished my work with the talisman and thought you’d like to see it. I didn’t find you in your guestroom, but I found these on the desk in your room.”

  My heart thumped in my chest. Ammon must’ve taken the pages earlier when I was asleep. He did this on purpose. “You don’t understand--”

  “Oh, I think I do. Were you planning on sharing this with the rest of us? If you are able to storm Nuremberg Castle alone, then you probably don’t need us. All you need is your demon.”

  Brande’s jaw tightened. “We were just deciding how to proceed. It’s not our intention to put anyone in danger or to withhold important information.”

  Moreau flung the pages toward Brande. He then faced me. “You are asking people to put their lives in your hands. Do they even know whose side they’re fighting by? Do you think they would want to after learning you have fallen prey to an evil spirit? You have done the very thing that the Order of Wizards had fought for centuries to protect the world from. This is why we hunted Drifters. This!”

  Father Gabriel raised his hand in a calming gesture. “Master Moreau, we understand your distress over the situation. We’re trying to--”

  “Don’t try to explain.” Moreau waved his hand. “You’re unreliable, Isabella. You’re selfish. You have the ability to tear this world apart, tear time itself apart, and you hand it over to a monster like you would hand someone your car key.”

  It felt like a stab to my heart. I wanted to speak up and say something, but I recognized the truth in his words. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I wanted that Mehmed VI page, and I gave in. I wanted my father to live, and I gave in again. Sacrifice isn’t easy.”

  Moreau shook his head. “It never is, which is why you’d better have a damned good reason for it. Trading one man’s life for the entire world isn’t worth it--but your actions have said so, all because it’s your father. He wouldn’t have accepted this. Your father would’ve chosen to die.”

  Brande approached me and placed a firm hand on my back. “You’ve made your point, Moreau. We’ll speak with the other wizards in the morning.”

  The Master Wizard grunted. “We’ll have to move forward somehow. We have no choice. Octavian will not wait for us to resolve our differences. I’ll let the others decide if they wish to stay with you or leave. It’s only fair.” He turned and walked away.

  Brande gave me a squeeze on the shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” He left too.

  “It will be all right, Isabella.” Gabriel’s face was grim.

  “Thank you.” I rose from my seat and stretched. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I made the walk down the hall and to my guestroom. I made sure to lock the door behind me (which, with my luck, would probably be broken down by an angry mob in the morning), and I slipped into bed.

  I never felt more alone in my entire life.

  I almo
st wept at the idea of having to face my father and my friends. Cliff, Sadik, Mehara, and all the wizards who came here with hope in their hearts. I had worked so hard to show them that I would not make the mistakes they feared I would. What could I say to regain their confidence? Their trust?

  There was a knock on the door.

  I guess the mob didn’t want to wait until daylight. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” I heard Brande’s voice say.

  “Go away.” I buried my face in my pillow.

  Brande must’ve picked the lock or cast some spell, because he let himself in and closed the door behind him. “Now you don’t want me near you?”

  I turned to face him. “Well I don’t know, do you have another order to give me?”

  “I apologize for that. I overreacted.” He approached and sat on the edge of the bed.

  I faced him. “You don’t hate me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good. Because that would be pretty lousy of you, Brande Drahomir.”

  “And if you don’t kiss me, Mrs. Drahomir, it would be lousy of you.”

  I grinned and sat up. I leaned in, my lips hovering less than an inch away from his. “Ah, now I know why you’re here.”

  He shrugged. “When we first arrived, your father had arranged for Izsak to be my roommate. So, tonight, it was either stay in a room with him...or my crazy possessed wife.”

  I grabbed a pillow and whacked him with it. His entire body shook with laughter.

  “Don’t joke about that! I feel terrible! Don’t do that.” I hit him again with the pillow, and he sputtered a chuckle.

  He raised his arms in surrender. “Well, luckily I’m here to make you feel better.”

  He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, at first softly, but then with more urgency and yearning. I gasped, growing lightheaded with every breath.

  He pulled me toward him with his muscular arms. I sat on his lap and straddled him, pulling my lips away from his and unbuttoning his shirt with trembling hands, eager to feel his skin against mine.

  When we had undressed ourselves, body and soul, I finally drew him into me, yielding to the warm comfort of his strength, and the pleasure of his touch. Most of all, I finally yielded to the fact that I wasn’t alone.

  67

  “Good morning!” Izsak opened and shut the bedroom door and pounded his feet against the floor. “Time for your lessons.”

  “Go away,” I said, burying myself further in the warmth of my blanket and Brande’s arms. Apparently he could sleep through almost anything.

  Izsak drew back the curtains with defiant yanks, and I recoiled when sunlight hit my eyes. I really should’ve warded the door. “Izsak, there’s something called privacy, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it...”

  “If you don’t like it,” he said, tossing me some clothes, “then fire me--oh, wait, you don’t pay me for this. I’ve only volunteered my time, left the comfort of home, and put my life in danger--”

  “All right!” I sat up with the blanket to my chin. “Haven’t you...heard about me?”

  He adjusted his glasses and crossed his long arms. “Master Moreau called an emergency meeting early this morning. I’m not the only one to have heard of last night’s events.”

  I felt a cold lump in my stomach. I thought Moreau was going to at least wait for me to come forward and explain myself to the others. “And you still want to train me? You’re not afraid of me?”

  He sighed. “To be honest, I had packed my bags this morning and had my hand on the phone, ready to call a cab.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He glanced downward and started picking up articles of clothing. He began neatly folding them. “Oh...I suppose after seeing you save those women and children back in Zagreb, and even how you took care of me when Allan Skye made me ill...it made me see how much you care for other people. That’s something I don’t see a lot of. You have dust on your windowsill, by the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re not perfect. Welcome to life.” He placed the clothes on a chair in the corner.

  “How do the others feel about me? I’m sure Moreau enjoyed sabotaging me and delivering the news to everyone without me present.”

  He frowned. “They’re disappointed. Upset. Some of them are horrified. A few have already left.”

  This was what I was afraid of. “I don’t blame them. If I want them to trust me, I’m going to have to earn it.”

  Izsak peered over at Brande. He was snoring. “I see that my roommate has abandoned me.”

  “I’ll see you in the courtyard for training. I guess I’ll have to get ready for my walk of shame.”

  “I’ll tell you what my mother always told me: keep your head high, look straight forward, and run.”

  I grimaced. “I’ll be down soon.”

  He left, and I locked the door behind him. I went to the adjacent bathroom and brushed my teeth, I showered and threw on a change of clothes. I rolled my eyes when I saw Brande still asleep--if I had to be awake, then so would he.

  “Wake up.” I shook him until he roused from his slumber.

  He opened his eyes and grinned at me. “Are we going to breakfast?”

  “I’m going to train. I have a feeling that I’ll be pelted with breakfast on the way over.”

  “I need to go talk with Master Moreau.”

  I doubted that would help my situation. “Just don’t provoke him. Please.”

  “I won’t.”

  I gave him a quick kiss and left the room. I started down the hallway and ran into a group of wizards coming from the opposite direction. There were a dozen of them, and they had been smiling and chatting until they saw me. Their cheerful expressions fell, and I saw a few exchange whispers. I called to mind Izsak’s words and held my head high, looking forward with purpose. I wasn’t going to run, but I didn’t want to walk around looking pathetic and defeated, either.

  As if choreographed beforehand, the group split in half to make way for me. Six of them pressed themselves against the wall on the right, and the other six backed into the wall on the left. I didn’t know whether to feel offended by the way they cleared my path or wary that they’d try and ambush me. My shoulders tightened as I walked past them, noting a few familiar faces among the group. I wanted to apologize, or explain how I was working on a solution. However, the way they looked at me told me that no explanation would satisfy, and no apology would appease.

  When I made it to the end of the hall, I heard their feet shuffle as they continued on their way. I heard them speaking to one another again.

  “She destroyed Nuremberg Castle with a demon at her side...”

  “...and stole spells from the Grand Grimoire.”

  “I think the demon’s name was Asmodeus...what? That’s the one that inspires lust, you say?”

  I clenched my teeth and told myself to ignore the embellishments and half-truths. I opened the door that led to the courtyard, and let out a deep, mournful sigh.

  “Clear your mind,” Mehara said, standing across from me.

  I stood in the center of the courtyard with her and waited. Izsak sat at a table shading himself from the sun, patiently waiting for my mental defense lesson to end. He said Mehara could work with me first, since my mental lessons were usually quick and helped me concentrate better on my Circadian Circles.

  I forced my hands to my sides so I wouldn’t start wringing them out of nervousness. She watched me with her deep brown eyes, her expression unreadable. She flipped her long thick braid over her shoulder and cleared her throat. “Ready?”

  I couldn’t tell if that was her usual haughty tone or if she had an ill opinion of me now. She had agreed to do the lesson with me, but the lack of smiles and familiarity told me that our burgeoning friendship was on hold. “Before we begin, I wanted to say that I’m sorry...and, thank you for doing this.”

  Mehara’s mental attack hit me in a flash. I stumbled backward in response to the wave of menta
l magic that hit me. All right...I supposed she wanted to get straight to business. I remembered everything she had taught me about mental defense. I’d need it against Octavian, who could probably lay my mind bare as soon as I walked into the same room as him.

  My first act of defense was to contain the mental rummaging taking place instead of trying to push her out of my mind. Her intrusion made my head throb, and it felt like a river crashing against me. I directed the flow of this mental river and poured it into thoughts I had set up. I would direct her to memories such as a mundane day at school from my adolescence, or a vacation I had gone on. When she dove even deeper, I threw out empty pockets of thoughts called mind traps. These traps were circular, led to nowhere, or were false memories that I wanted to give the impression were true.

  When I felt her withdraw her mental energy, I took a step back and exhaled. “How did I do?”

  She didn’t answer. I hardly had time to brace myself when another mental attack slammed against me. It felt like I was getting punched in the face instead of resisting an invasion. I clenched my teeth and did the mind traps again, just the way she had taught me back in Budapest.

  I screeched and reached for my head when a burst of energy rang in my ears. “Okay! Enough!”

  She narrowed her eyes. “We can’t afford weakness, Isabella. Do you want a strong mind, or a weak one?”

  I sniffed and brushed my hand against my nose. Blood smeared the back of my hand. “Damn it, Mehara! If you didn’t want to work with me, then why didn’t you just say so?”

  She placed her hands on her hips and looked like she wanted to whack me again. “You’ll do well to fight with your head instead of your mouth.”

  “I’ll remember that.” I wiped the palms of my hands against my thighs.

  “Would you like to continue?” The contempt rolled off her tongue.

  “I think I’m done.”

  She turned and headed out of the courtyard. She went toward the door leading to the guest wing. I turned and looked over my shoulder when I heard the fall of footsteps from the opposite direction. Joshua Morton approached with a large tray of food and a carafe of orange juice. He nodded toward the canopied table where Izsak sat, brought the tray over and set it down.