The Tower's Alchemist (The Gray Tower Trilogy, #1)

  ***

  I must have drifted into sleep during my bath, because I was thrown into another vivid dream. This time, I stood in the Gray Tower, wandering through its unusually desolate halls. Despite the emptiness, I kept hearing echoes and screams; bodies tumbled and magic whooshed, indicating that a fierce battle ensued. I felt sick to my stomach whenever a resounding boom vibrated the entire main building.

  I called for my father, then for Brande, but no one answered. I stumbled into the Courtyard of Light and fell against the stone pedestal where the statue of Sophia, Divine Wisdom, stood. Clothed in a marble robe like a Greek statue, she wore a hood that concealed her eyes. Her wings were outstretched like those of an angel, and her right hand held a sword upright, a real sword made of pure gold.

  I thought I heard someone call my name; I shut my eyes and covered my ears. An odd sound filled the air, and I couldn’t make out what it was. Rain suddenly began to fall, I could feel the water splash against my cool skin and hit the ground in a crescendo. When I opened my eyes, I was horrified to find that the rain was a shower of blood. With dread, I looked up and saw the face of the statue staring back at me. I heard that odd noise in the air again, and gazed into the sky above. I saw a blaze of light hurtling toward me like a falling star, and I shrieked when I realized that it was one of the Three, the one who wore the white robe. With a sickening crack, the Master Wizard expired, impaled on Sophia’s sword.

  Something ripped me away from the dream. I was in murky darkness and splashing water. It took me several seconds to realize I was awake and still in the tub—and fighting with Brande. He called my name, and his voice seemed far away, like in the dream. I stared into his face, and for the first time in my life, I saw him afraid. My body trembled with stress, and my heart beat at a frantic pace. I thought of the voice from the dream and realized it had belonged to my father. The dream may have been another message from him.

  “Look at me...Isabella...look at me!” Brande quickly dragged me out of the tub and sat me on the cold bathroom floor. He threw my robe over me and knelt so he could hold my head between his hands, trying to get me to focus on him.

  “I had a dream.” I gasped.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, it was a dream.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s my father. He’s sending me a message.” I put the robe on and stood. I pushed him away when he followed me out and tried to guide me toward the chair in the room.

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Isabella.”

  “I don’t need to sit down! My father’s note said he’d see me again. What...what if he’s here?”

  I rushed toward the door, but he got there first and blocked me. “Are you insane? You’re not even dressed. What was that in there?”

  “I fell asleep in the bathtub and had a dream. It was more like a warning.”

  “But why were you on fire?”

  “I...what?” The entire world, in that moment, seemed to stop. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  “When I touched you,” he said, holding up the palms of his hands to show me how red they were, “I had to absorb it. It was almost too powerful.”

  I turned and headed toward the window to look outside, but Brande must’ve thought I was going to climb out, because he grabbed my arm.

  “Please, just sit.”

  “Let go of me!”

  “I’ll listen to everything you have to say, but please, sit and talk to me.”

  I snatched my wrist away from his hold. I stumbled over to the chair, and sat down, my chest heaving and my mouth forcing out the questions I knew I finally needed to ask, but was afraid to.

  “Why were you in Salon-de-Provence?”

  “What?”

  “Why were you in the Provence region?”

  “I told you, I was trying to find a way back to the Gray Tower without being detected.”

  “Cut the crap and try giving me the real answer.”

  “Isa—”

  I held up my right hand in a gesture to silence him. “You—and the Order—knew my father was alive, but didn’t bother to help him, or send for him, or tell his family.”

  “I can explain...” he lowered himself to his knees, reaching for my hand and holding it. I forced myself to ask another difficult question.

  “You were tracking my father, weren’t you?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “The Order killed an alchemist in Salon-de-Provence four hundred years ago, and his name was Michel de Nostredame. He was a Drifter...like my father.”

  I had been making excuses, coming up with explanations, and flatly denying the signs before me. Now, with Brande’s admission, I could no longer avoid the truth. Saying it out loud left a bitter taste in my mouth, as if I tasted cadmium again, and I looked at Brande with a mixture of distrust and hurt.

  “You know the law, and you know our purpose.” He lowered his gaze.

  Law and purpose be damned, this was my father. “Whenever you came to see me, you were only looking for my father so you could kill him. You knew he’d try to contact me.”

  “No, I told them you were off limits.”

  I pushed his hand away and leaned forward in my seat. “Yeah, whatever. Tell me what happened.”

  “The Master Wizards gave me the task three years ago and I’ve been tracking him ever since. There are seven of us, mostly Elites, and two Masters. I finally caught up with Carson in Salon-de-Provence and fought him. I almost had him when Father Gabriel intervened. He mistakenly thought I was...”

  “A warlock?”

  He nodded. “Carson escaped and I had to explain who I was to Father Gabriel. Once he knew all the facts, he ended up agreeing with me.”

  All these years I could neither see nor touch my father, and Brande almost took him away from me. “Would you really have killed my father?”

  “Yes.”

  I slapped him as hard as I could. He took the hit without protest or retaliation. “I trusted you.”

  “Forgive me.” He couldn’t even look me in the eye.

  “You want compassion, even though you wouldn’t give the same to my father? Are you your own man, or a creature of the Gray Tower?”

  “Please, tell me what to do, and I will do it.”

  I rose from my seat. He stood with me, finally raising his head and gazing at me through watery eyes. I wanted to scream at him; I wanted to hit him again and tell him how much I hated him—but I couldn’t, because I knew I didn’t. I understood the law and how important it was to protect the Akashic Record, but it turned into something different when the Drifter who had to die was your father, a man who was nothing but good and honorable. He didn’t deserve this.

  “So you want me to tell you what to do, huh? Don’t you think that’s your problem? You’ve lived most of your life doing what others tell you.”

  “Please, forgive me.”

  “I would be lying if I said I did, so don’t ask right now.” I may not have hated him, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t infuriated with him. He was the only person from the Gray Tower I still talked to, and I believed I could trust. If he ever wanted to restore that he would have to show me that our friendship was more important than blindly serving the Order.

  “Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

  I looked into his sad gray eyes and wanted to cry. “Choose a side and stick with it, Brande Drahomir...before I kill you.”