The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3
Page 92
“You won’t be able to do it,” I repeated. “You may be able to adapt quickly and mirror what I do, but you’re not the true Drifter, and you don’t have the training for it.”
He paused and said in a controlled voice, “I destroyed the Gray Tower. I never needed their training.”
“Is that what you told yourself when the Masters refused to admit you to the Order?”
The way he gripped the sensitive skin just beneath my chin told me that he wasn’t as calm and collected as his voice would have me believe. His breath dripped with venom and was right against my ear. “I know about the blue door. There is a great power behind it, and they asked you to step through.”
He said nothing more, in an attempt to bait me. Then I realized that he only knew about the blue door because I told Allan Skye, whose mind he invaded and influenced. Octavian probably feared I would step through the door and control a mysterious power that could destroy him. He didn’t know what it truly was.
“How did you find out about the blue door?” My hoarse voice was laced with feigned astonishment.
“It doesn’t matter. Just as you were too weak and afraid to step through the rifts, you refuse to go through that door.”
“You can’t do that!” I shouted.
He reached into my mind and I erected a few mind traps as resistance. He finally lost his patience and threw me to the ground. I shrieked when a disruptive bolt of energy hit me--if I made it out of this alive, I would definitely apologize to Samson Grom for hitting him with these. They hurt like hell. I rolled onto my side and pulled my knees up to my chest, forcing my body to stop quivering.
“Make the door appear.”
“I’m not letting you go through that door.”
He hit me with another bolt and it nearly blinded me, but I couldn’t make it too easy for him. “This is your last chance, Isabella. The door...or your destruction.”
“Okay.” My muscles spasmed with pain.
He pulled me to my feet. “Do it.”
I steadied my breathing and closed my eyes. I envisioned the faded blue door as I remembered it, with chipping paint and a gold handle. I repeated the words under my breath: “There is a door in front of you, and only you can see it. Only you can touch it, and open it...”
The image branded itself in my mind, and I raised my left hand, letting a tendril of energy spin forth. It glowed and formed a rectangular shape, and it molded into the blue door. Octavian released my right arm and approached the door, circling it and noting its height and dimensions. I remained silent and walked toward the door. Octavian rushed over and pulled my hand back just as I was about to touch the handle. His expression seemed to tell me that I was inferior, and he had somehow revoked my right to open the door.
He told me in my mind, I will go first, because I accept this gift...and I am worthy of it.
We all had our faults. I could acknowledge mine and would have to deal with them. Octavian’s flaw was pride, and that was one of the worst to have.
His hand rested on the gold handle. He paused. He faced me and narrowed his eyes, and I cursed in my head and prepared a Circadian Circle. I held my breath, only exhaling when he faced the door again and gripped the handle. As soon as he opened the door, he leaned toward me in a quick motion, grabbed me by the arm, and thrust me toward the black hole within the doorframe.
I shouted in protest as a strong current of wind pulled me toward the gaping mouth of the door. I swung myself around and faced Octavian, pressing myself against him and wrapping my arms around his middle. If he wanted to toss me the through the doorway, then I’d make sure I was firmly attached to him.
He grunted and held his hands out against the doorframe for support. I could feel the howling wind tugging at my clothes and trying to pull me through the doorway. I shut my eyes and brought forth Zaman’s Fire, sending a burst of it toward Octavian. The Fire hit him and caught him by surprise. He faltered and lost his balance, and the suction of the wind pulled us both halfway through the doorway.
Our bodies knocked against each other as we each gripped a side of the doorframe. Our lower bodies dangled in the darkness, and the wind seemed to grow stronger, as if it knew it almost had us. Octavian reached over toward me and tried to pry my fingers loose from the doorframe. I bit his hand, and he recoiled.
I drew my knife from my belt and swung it toward the earth just outside the doorframe. The knife sank into the ground, and I pulled myself forward. Octavian saw what I was doing and leapt from his side of the doorframe. He landed against me and tried sinking his teeth into my neck. I shrieked and enveloped myself in another burst of Zaman’s Fire. I kicked him as hard as I could.
I gasped when I saw dark hands envelope Octavian and pull him toward the dark. I gave another hard kick and he finally let go of me, dangling by one hand from the doorframe. I turned back around and propelled myself forward. I gripped the knife and dislodged it, making flicks with my wrists into the ground. I had made the alchemical symbols for Earth and Air.
I infused the symbols with energy, and I felt my body cling securely to the earth as I crawled forward. I heard Octavian shout behind me, but I focused on getting myself away from the doorway. I kept crawling along the ground until my feet were free and I was out of the pull of the howling wind. I pulled my legs beneath me and sat up, watching the doorway and wondering if Octavian had been pulled completely through.
I jolted when Octavian made another attempt to propel himself forward. He was back in a standing position, fingernails tearing and bleeding as he gripped the doorframe. The howling wind protested, and the suction of the air was so strong that it began pulling and tearing the skin from his body, causing him to howl in pain. I cringed at the sight of his skeletal face. It was stripped of skin and bleeding.
Gnarled sets of hands shot out from the darkness of the doorway, some definitely not human, and slid along Octavian’s head and body. His eyes bulged, and he let out a scream of shock. The gnarled hands almost seemed to caress him--until they began scratching and tearing his muscles and bone. He screeched as the hands clung to him and tore him apart. The howling wind finally swallowed him and pulled him into utter darkness, and the faded blue door swung shut. In a flash, the doorway disappeared.
I sat there for a few moments, half-delirious and waiting for him to claw his way back toward me and attempt to tear me to shreds. I shuddered and collapsed. When I awoke, I stumbled over toward the large olive tree and blacked out again. I didn’t know how long I was unconscious, but the passage of time seemed so fluid, as if it could’ve been a few hours or a few days. When I opened my eyes, I gazed into the sky and saw fire. I observed the dimmed points of light and the shadow figures flitting through them. A few even broke through the burning embers in the ground in order to join the dark beings on the other side to torture the world of men. I was almost afraid to move, and I didn’t want to survey the damage Octavian had wrought.
But if not me, then who? I couldn’t give the task to anyone else, and I certainly wasn’t going to run away. I raised my mind and my power toward the Circadian Circle. I began closing the remaining rifts. Some of them shuddered in response to my magic, while others closed with ease. Wherever I felt the presence of a dark spirit trying to worm its way through a rift and into the world of men, I hit it with the Circadian Circle and expelled it.
My head throbbed, and my muscles ached. I summoned the millions of points of light toward me, and I kept moving along. I reached across countries, continents, and even years. I went back and forth across the Akashic Record, which showed everything to me like an open book. It didn’t matter what country or year in human history each rift opened into--I found them and sealed them. I kept pouring magic and energy into the mends and sealing the tears. The only thing that sustained me was sheer will and the power from the Circadian Circle. Even though I felt like my body was on fire and I swayed with exhaustion, I worked on the rifts until only one remained--the one in Romania.
With my body and mi
nd weighed down with exhaustion, I commanded that specific point of light to move toward me. It became a window, and I beheld the vision of the time and place I wanted to return to--and then I let out a cry of horror. Nearly half the country of Romania had disappeared! No evening lights from cities, no offices, parks or churches. I reached out with my senses, fighting the dread clutching my insides. I reached out further with my senses, and I realized this wasn’t the only area in the world touched by this odd arrangement. Octavian must have done this when he kept passing in and out of rifts.
I didn’t know if my loved ones were dead or alive, waiting for me or fleeing for their lives. I touched the surface of the window, and the vision of Romania rippled like water. How would I even begin to repair what Octavian did?
With sweaty palms and shaking arms, I focused on rebuilding everything Octavian smashed and distorted. Wherever I noticed an odd tremor, an unnatural void or volatile speed in time, I applied my Circadian Circle and restored balance. Individual destinies, major events and landmarks--all of them I worked on through accessing the Akashic Record. Some parts were difficult, because I knew I had a mind that had been tampered with and altered since childhood. At that point I offered a fervent prayer, knowing that I had stretched myself to the limit and needed to take the final step in faith.
Heaving with exhaustion, I whispered in my mind to Father Gabriel. I’m stepping through now. I’m so tired, but...I did what I could.
I heard his voice respond. You did well, but the world will not be the same.
My lower lip trembled, and the back of my throat ached. “I understand.”
76
My head swam as I awoke from a deep sleep. It took me a few seconds to realize that I was sitting at a desk. I lifted my head and squinted at the sunlight filtering through the parted curtain. I glanced around at the small office I was in. Wherever I was, it certainly wasn’t my tiny space in London at Baker Street.
A quick inspection convinced me that the office was mine. My purse hung on the coat rack near the door, a stack of papers and files in the far left corner of the office threatened to topple over, and my eyes met the carefree smiles of my brother and his wife, frozen in a small picture frame on my desk. Notes in my handwriting littered my desk, as well as some newspapers.
I stood and pulled back the curtain further. I saw men and women walking up and down the street, taxis and cars driving along the road, and a couple of naval officers. After peering at the street for a few minutes, I finally recognized it--Constitution Avenue. It looked like I was in the Munitions building in Washington, D.C. But why would I be here? And why would I have an office here?
I turned back around and stuck my hand in the pockets of the jacket draped on the chair behind my desk. I felt around until I found another clue--an I.D. badge with my picture on it. It said I was F.B.I. I shuddered and wondered how much of my life I had just ruined. Why couldn’t I have just landed back in Romania with Brande and with my friends and family cheering? Where were the others?
My heart nearly stopped when the phone on my desk rang. My gaze darted between the door and the telephone in anticipation of someone else barging in to answer. Then, he or she, would promptly expose me as someone who didn’t belong here. After a few rings, I reached out with a trembling hand and lifted the receiver. In a voice that would make a timid mouse proud, I answered. “H-hello?”
“Agent George,” a woman’s whiny voice on the other end responded, “I have your brother on the line.”
Thank God. “Johnnie?”
“Shall I put him through?”
“Yes, please...”
After a few seconds, my brother’s voice came through. “Izzy, I hope you’re still able to join us for dinner tonight.”
Dinner? We were just in Romania battling warlocks and now we’re in Washington, D.C. planning dinner? “Uh...yes, I’m...still at work.”
The warmth in his voice was unmistakable, and his tone set me a bit at ease. “Rachel’s looking forward to it. She says you can bring dessert.”
I wanted to ask where he lived, but that would’ve sounded suspicious if not outright looney. “I can do that. How’s...your job?”
“I can’t complain,” he said with a sigh. “I’m actually preparing some notes for a lecture next week.”
“I’m so proud of you, Johnnie. It must be swell to work at Harvard.”
“Thanks. It’s unfortunate Rachel and I can’t stay in Baltimore longer, but I have to be back at the university next week.”
Our old family house was in Baltimore. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s well.”
“And...Dad?”
There was a slight pause. “You should be the one telling me. He’s up in D.C. with you.”
“Johnnie, how has the last week or so been for you?”
He didn’t answer immediately. “How...has yours been?”
An invisible hand clutched my lungs and throat. “Johnnie, do you remember anything? About us?”
I heard him suck in a quick breath. “Thank goodness, you remember it too? We were kidnapped by warlocks? And everything that happened with the Gray Tower?”
I nodded emphatically. “Yes! What’s going on?”
“Izzy, only Mom and Rachel and I remember. Our neighbors...the rest of the world...it’s like what happened never happened. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember or not, but I have these vague new memories. It’s like I have two lives. We’re not in the exact same world, are we? ”
I groaned. “Octavian stole some of my powers and flew in and out of different time rifts. He was destroying the world...I did what I could to repair it.”
“Is he dead?”
“He got pulled through a doorway that was almost certainly a portal to Hell by dark spirits that tore his body to shreds. I’m pretty sure the guy’s not coming back.”
“But why can we remember everything with Octavian? Why not anyone else?”
A loud knock on my office door demanded my attention, and I called for the person to enter. I hid my shock when I saw Special Agent Andrew Lainey walk in with his balding head, short stature, and stocky frame. He waltzed over and claimed the empty seat in front of me, tossing a file onto the table.
“Boss wants a final look-through and then for you to sign off on it.” Lainey yawned.
I mouthed a “Thank you” and spoke to Johnnie. “Can I call you back?”
“Sure, just be careful. I’m trying to find out how different things are...you know we’re at the old house in Baltimore, right?”
“I figured as much. I’ll see you later today, Johnnie.” I hung up the phone.
Lainey leaned back in his seat and observed me. “You look a little shaken, Agent George. Are you all right?”
No. “Yes.”
“Geez, I know you had a hard time with that Mason case, but it wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad the son of a bitch isn’t walking the streets anymore.”
I nodded and pretended to know what he was talking about. “Yeah, you’re right.” I smoothed my crisp white blouse.
Lainey raised an eyebrow. “So...are we still going to lunch, or what?”
In what universe was I going on lunch dates with Andrew Lainey? Apparently, this one. “Erm...lunch?”
He turned his wrist and glanced at his watch. “Oh, I’m about fifteen minutes early. Did you need to finish something?”
I pulled the Mason file toward me and opened it. “Lainey, can I ask you a few questions? They may sound weird, but...could you just humor me?”
“All right...”
I perused the file in order to look as casual as possible. “So, what do you think about the war?”
He sniffed. “I think we’re going to be dragged into the fray sooner or later. Hitler already showed what he could do back in June, when he whacked Russia.”
“You mean Operation Barbarossa?”
He chuckled. “Are you leaving us to become a reporter or what? What’s with the Q&A?”
I pretended to
read another page from the Mason file and flashed a tentative smile. “And what about the Gray Tower?”
“The what?”
I lifted my gaze, the tension pulling at the corners of my mouth. “The Gray Tower?”
“Is that some new organization?” His expression was devoid of sarcasm or jesting.
“Uh...never mind.” My chest tightened. There was no Gray Tower. “So we’re kind of close, huh?”
He grinned and ran a hand over his balding head. “So, after a year, you’re finally warming up to me. You’re asking me out on a date, aren’t you?”
Okay, I guess that answered one of my other questions. “Don’t be silly, Lainey. I’d never risk ruining our professional relationship.” Although I still wasn’t quite sure what that was.
“Well to be honest, I thought they were crazy, giving me a woman for a partner,” he said, digging into a jar of candy in front of him. “But between my good looks and sharp intellect, and your skills--we make a good team.”
Speaking of partners, where was Brande? If I even found him in this world, would he remember too? “Lainey, I’m going to have to skip lunch. I’m going to my parents’ house today and I’ve got this Mason file to go through.”
He nodded. “Your father’s upstairs, by the way. He says to stop by before you leave.”
My office door swung open, and the man who was supposed to be Lainey’s partner in the other world, Luke Jameson, ran in with his scrawny arms flailing about. “Lainey...George! Did you hear the news?”
“What?” Lainey asked.
“The Japanese Imperial Navy bombed Pearl Harbor!”
Lainey nearly fell out of his seat. “Sons of bitches! How many people?”
Jameson shook his head. “It might be in the thousands. I can’t believe this! General Donovan wants you guys upstairs ASAP. I’ll be there too, but I’ve got to go play escort to some damned hotshot consultant from Europe. What do we need to consult about, anyway? God...Pearl Harbor.”