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

  ***

  Three days had passed, and I received no news of Penn or if he managed to obtain the credentials I needed. This was disheartening to say the least, but I kept myself busy the first couple of days by helping Renée around the house. When I got tired of that, the next day I read nearly every magazine in my room, assuring Renée that I was doing “research” (that is, if you counted fantasizing about luxury vacation homes and the latest fashions). As evening approached, I took a break and went to my room, where I laid across the bed and avidly listened to Mathieu Perrine’s underground radio broadcast.

  In a fervent tone he reported bits of information he received on Operation Barbarossa. Apparently Hitler had been serious when he said he wanted to help himself to the Soviet’s lands and resources. Though the two were tentative allies, it was only a matter of time before betrayal occurred. The so-called Führer probably used the Black Wolves to launch the invasion, just like he used them to take Czechoslovakia. If they knew that the Gray Tower was within their reach...perhaps my father’s warning had something to do with just that. I grew anxious at the thought, and hoped that Penn wouldn’t take yet another three days to get back to me. It seemed I would have more than the Gestapo to contend with.

  The Black Wolves were a coven of powerful warlocks led by a Cruenti named Octavian Eckhard. The Wolves had been around as long as the Order of Wizards, and for centuries engaged in a mostly covert war with us that finally brought itself out into the open within the last twenty years. Hitler was known for his obsession with the occult and, blinded by arrogance and avarice, he eagerly accepted an alliance with the Black Wolves. It didn’t surprise me that the warlocks fought alongside the Nazis, but what did baffle me was how they knew to come directly after Ken and me. It was one thing to uncover me as a spy, and something more to uncover me as a spy who was an Apprentice Wizard. I turned my attention toward Renée when she entered my room. I returned her smile, though I didn’t feel like smiling.

  “Let’s get started, Emelie...or should I say, Noelle?” She carried a black sack with her and a set of papers that she handed me. This time I did smile in earnest; once again Penn came through for me.

  “Tell Penn that he’s the killer-diller.” I had to admit that I was impressed. I thought I would have to wait at least another day, maybe two.

  “Tell him yourself, Noelle.”

  The door swung open and Penn walked in with a limp and a black eye that was just beginning to heal. “There are a lot of unfriendly people in the world, Noelle. Make sure you take care of this identity; it’s the best I could get.”

  I made room for him on the bed so he could sit. I gently cupped his chin and concentrated on a wave of healing energy that tingled through my fingertips and reached out to flow through his body. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, and I even felt a bit of his fatigue as his lungs slowly expanded with air. His muscles ached. He shuddered at the sensation of the spell, and when I was done, he squeezed my hand in silent thanks.

  I acknowledged his gesture. “If you ever need me for anything...legal, that is...I’ll be there.”

  He faced Renée. “You hear that? I’m not such a lazy pilferer after all.”

  Renée swung her hand through the air and laughed. “Well, I didn’t quite use those words. Jasmine must have a heart of gold to keep you around.”

  He nudged me. “Or maybe it’s what I can do for Jasmine is why she keeps me around, eh?”

  “Exécrable! Such talk!”

  I shook my head at their banter and scanned the papers. My new name was Noelle Armande, and my cover was that I came from Dijon as a late registrant to the university’s summer program. Now that my papers were in order, I could go to the school and present them. I needed to sit in Heilwig’s class and find the opportunity to extract him.

  “The Nazis must be coming down even harder on everyone.” I folded the papers and set them aside. Usually Penn would provide me with much more, but at least this was passable.

  “I wasn’t exaggerating about your new identity being the only one I could obtain. I usually get my papers and passports from my connections—” he glanced at Renée, daring her to comment, “and even they gave me a hard time. I had to kill my first contact because he decided he wanted to collect that bounty from the Gestapo. He gave me a broken rib and a stab wound...and I gave him a crowbar to the head.”

  Renée gasped. “Terrible...”

  Penn continued, motioning us to sit closer as if he were telling bedtime stories to children. “If that weren’t enough, the second contact demanded an exorbitant amount of money within a day, which he knew I couldn’t gather in time, and the third contact only furnished me with the papers because I walked in, pulled the safety pin on a grenade, and threatened to remove my finger from the striker lever. Heh.”

  “That was reckless.” I looked at Renée and mimicked her expression of displeasure. Secretly though, I was thinking of how I would’ve gone in with two grenades.

  “These are desperate times, ladies.”

  “And how did you get yourself patched up?” Renée crossed her arms.

  “A friend did it. You remember Sebastien? The one who got kicked out of medical school.”

  Renée sighed and changed the subject. “I have to fix up Noelle, and you need to get back to Jasmine. Now, out the back, through the tool shed...you know the way.”

  Penn planted a kiss on the top of my head. He stood and approached Renée, leaning in to give her a parting kiss on the cheek. She rebuffed him.

  “See how she treats her friends?” He smirked.

  “Oh, stop it! Go on, now...” She ushered him toward the door.

  “Penn...” I tried to keep my voice level. “Any word from Drake?”

  He shook his head. “But don’t worry, he knows how to take care of himself.”

  Yeah, and I wanted to know what else he was taking care of a few days ago. “I hope he had better luck with his contacts than you had with yours.”

  He laughed. “Let’s hope so, or else it’ll be as nasty as that Cairo job.”

  My eyes widened. “The Cairo job? You mean Badru?”

  “Drake told me you were with him on that in the beginning.”

  I nodded and pretended to know what he was talking about. “Of course...how did the rest of it go?”

  He wore an amused expression. “I helped him move some money he stole from Badru. Now that is what I call reckless.”

  “Take care, Penn.” I smiled, even though I wanted to sit there with my mouth gaping. Why in the world would Ken steal from an Egyptian crime lord? When he invited me down there, he told me that OSS had sent him to obstruct Badru’s arms sales to the Nazis. Perhaps emptying Badru’s bank account was part of the assignment? Maybe?

  Renée nudged him out and shut the door behind him. “Now, let me show you how to fix yourself up.”

  She beckoned me to sit opposite her and she pulled out a blonde wig, makeup, and other materials she would need for application. I couldn’t help but mirror her smile. Her eyes weren’t tired and sad anymore; there was actually a glow to them. Though the old man Otto claimed to be even less involved than her, I still admired them both for doing what they could.

  “You look like a fire’s just been rekindled.” I shut my eyelids as she started working on my brows.

  She smiled. “Little things here and there won’t ever do for me. It will be everything...or nothing.”

  “Stay true to yourself.” I remembered her words, and would never forget.

  “Now, when you apply the wig, make sure you apply makeup near the hairline so that it won’t look unnatural.” She showed me the inside of the wig and some strips of tape. She had me gather up my dark waves so she could place the wig on me. She then explained that she was carefully applying nude makeup near the hairline so that any seams would be undetectable.

  “You’re good at this.”

  “Merci.” She examined my hair and make-up, and seemed satisfied. “Now, perhaps a little c
ontouring so that the shape of your face will appear a little different.”

  She paused and turned the volume up on the radio before returning to her work. Part of me wanted to laugh at the oddity of such a situation. Young women my age back in Baltimore, who were doing makeup in their friends’ rooms, were usually talking about their sweethearts and listening to some catchy Benny Goodman song. Here I was, listening to an underground French Resistance broadcast and using makeup to disguise myself—so I could infiltrate the University of Paris and extract a Nazi wizard.

  “I should’ve told Penn to send us some of that liquor he’s been bootlegging,” I said.

  At this point, it seemed Renée was engrossed in both her work and the final announcements from Mathieu Perrine. “And as we come to a close, my friends,” Mathieu’s voice grew somber, “let us remember all those who have gone before us in the Great Fight. Especially our friend, Angela Wyatt, who we’ve just learned has perished in Dachau.”

  “Did...he say Angela? Angela Wyatt?”

  “What is it, Em...Noelle?”

  I felt like someone had stabbed me in the heart. A part of me knew deep down that Stella would not return to our London office, and that eventually Ian would have to cart away her belongings. But why did it have to be Dachau?

  “Mon chéri, let it out...I can fix that silly makeup later.”

  My eyes were filled with tears, I let them brim over and streak down my face. “I’m sorry, Renée.”

  “I understand. Believe me, I understand.”

  Now I knew why she had those sad and tired eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder how many more friends and loved ones I would have to cry over before all this would end.