The House of Grey- Volume 3 (13 page)

“What was that all about?”

“You don’t think there was another kidnapping attempt?”

“No, we would’ve heard something by now.”

Monson tried to absorb it all as well as he could, but was unable to deny his own mounting worry.  “What do you guys think is going on?”

“Not a clue.” Casey raised his arms, locking them behind his head. “Mr. Gatt sure seemed frazzled though, didn’t he?”

“Definitely,” agreed Monson. “I’ve never seen him so irritated.”

“Something serious must have happened,” added Artorius,, now back on his phone. “Maybe it was a kidnapping.”

The idea hit him the moment Artorius said the word.
Kidnap
. Panic threatened to overcome him. In light of all the students around, Monson forced the flames of worry down to a low smolder.

He hesitated, trying to master his feelings. “Guys, you don’t think that this has something do to with…Cyann, do you?”

Silence met his disturbing question. Obviously, neither Artorius nor Casey had thought of this, but now they were quickly considering the possibility. Artorius actually had his finger on Indigo’s number when Grayson spoke up. His words were placating. “No one would ever kidnap a Harrison. You have nothing to worry about. I’m sure that the Harrison sisters are just fine.”

Grayson spoke with such simple conviction that it was easy to believe his words. Monson, however, was not totally convinced.

“What makes you so sure?”

Grayson’s answer made the hairs on Monson’s head stand on end. “I’ve met Guy Harrison. Trust me. No one
-
and I mean
no one
-
in their right mind or otherwise would try to kidnap those girls. A lot more trouble than it would be worth.”

Monson cocked an eyebrow. “He’s that scary?”

“No.” Grayson shook his his index finger. “He’s even worse.”

“Then if wasn’t Cyann, who was it?”

Artorius stepped into the conversation. “I think I might be able to answer that question.”

He showed them the web page currently loading on his phone’s browser. “This was just updated on Gossip Guy.”

Casey squinted at the screen, “RSS feeds, gotta love ‘em.”

The first picture loaded and depicted a bruised and contorted mess. IVs, bandages, and people blocked most of the obviously severely injured person. The second picture was a profile of a heavily damaged, black-and-blue face. Dark hair caked with blood fell messily around the bandages. The boys stared at the picture.

Casey posed the question. “Why would Gossip Guy be reporting on
-
”

He trailed off as Artorius scrolled to show him the headline: “Damion ‘The Diamond’ Peterson ATTACKED!”

“Who on earth would attack the Diamond?” asked Molly through a dropped jaw.  They were all back in Monson’s apartment. Casey, Artorius and Monson sat opposite of Molly and Brian, who were listening politely as Casey relayed the events of that morning. Neither Molly nor Brian appeared shocked at hearing the news of the MIB, but astonishment spread across both their faces the moment Artorius mentioned Damion.

“I know Damion Peterson. We met when Monson won his scholarship. He’s a very sweet boy. I can’t image anyone wanting to hurt him.”

“You think that’s bad, check this out.” Casey showed Molly his phone.

“What is that?”

Casey pulled back his arm and looked at the screen of his Blackberry Storm. “It’s the
Horum Vir
’s private weight room. It’s where Damion works out.”

“But how did
-
”

“It become  scaled version of World War Three?”

Molly nodded.

“No one knows, but I’m guessing it was a group of people with really big sledgehammers. No one person could have done that much damage. Just look at the gouges in the walls.”

Monson’s ears closed off.

No one person could have done that much damage. That was probably correct. But one mentally broken person with a bone to pick probably could…and probably did. 

The weight room
-
it was real. Hhe
had
been there; now he was sure of it. But then where was the hole in chest from the gleaming knife? He had not removed himself from the premises. At least not that he could remember. How much of that dream had been real? How much was a nightmare? And how did he cause so much destruction? He did not understand.

“I wonder when all this happened?” Casey put down in his phone and threw his arms behind his head, lacing his fingers. He settled back in his chair.  “Grey and I were in that area just yesterday. We ended up around there and I slipped off when...I saw someone.”

The look on Casey’s face made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it. Casey turned to Monson.

“Monson, those directions that Damion gave you…those weren’t to the Horum Vir’s weight room, were they?”

Monson’s face burned red hot. He had one chance to get this right.

“I don’t know,” he lied. “I didn’t find any weight room. I ended up in the back of the Yard’s main complex after a detour to the Battleground’s main field.”

“The Battleground’s main field? Grey, are you confusing the Battleground with the Training Ground?  Lets back up and make sure we are on the same page. The whole complex is nicknamed the Yard, the main football arena the Battleground and the gyms, pools and general locker rooms the Training Ground.”

Monson kicked himself. He always got all the nicknames confused. “Yeah, sorry, I always get those confused. I meandered around the Training Grounds back rooms for a while then ended up behind the expanse of the Yard where I sat down under a tree. Next thing I know, I was out like a light. I was still pretty wiped from the game and…well, you know.”

Monson attempted to keep his expression passive while scanning their faces. Were they buying it? 

Casey spoke first. “Well, I was back there right around the time of the attack and I don’t how it could have happened without me or anyone else hearing anything.”

“You were in the area looking for a weight room that’s supposed to be for the
Horum Vir
? And Damion was in there?” Molly sat up a little straighter and sounded a bit on the indignant side.

Casey scowled. “We never said he was looking for the weight room.”

Molly ignored him.  “And why is Damion using your weight room, Monson?” 

Monson scowled at her. “Probably because he can actually take advantage of it and I didn’t even know it existed until I saw it with…I mean until I saw those pictures this morning.”

He choked back the words, glancing around at the others. Luckily, they did not seem to notice. Monson did his best to remain calm. He had almost made a critical slip. He needed time to think, to mull this over
-
and he needed to keep his mouth shut until then. He laughed to himself ironically. So much for being honest.

To his immense relief, Casey cut in right after him. “Molly, before we get any further into this subject, we have a few questions for you.”

Molly unconcernedly took a sip of tea. “What do you mean, Cassius?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean. The ‘suits’ we saw earlier at The GM
-
neither you nor Brian seemed surprised.”

“And what about them?” She put down her teacup and saucer. “I told you someone important may be coming in the next few days.”

“True,” replied Casey. “But you didn’t tell us who.”

Molly gave Casey a playful, albeit forced wink. “And spoil the surprise? Not on your life.”

“You’re really not going to tell us?”

“I would like to, Cassius,” lamented Molly. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to let you know right now. I don’t want to cause an uproar if I don’t have to.”

“An uproar? Who on earth could possibly cause such an uproar at this school? I mean, look who we have here already! The Diamond, Taris Green, members of both N’Sync 2 and Backstreet Boys Reborn all go to school here, and I’m just getting started. Basically, this place has more teen stars than the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Unless it’s God himself making an appearance, you’ve got a tough crowd here.”

“I don’t know if your analogy really drives home your point, Case, I can’t think of a single teen on the Walk of Fame let alone many.” interrupted Artorius thoughtfully. “Maybe you should have said something like ‘more stars than the Milky Way,’ he added. Monson, despite his current torrent of heavy emotion, chuckled. At least he could always count on his habit of laughing at inappropriate times.
Casey’s words were venomous. “Arthur, you are so not helping.”

“How many times do I have to ask you
-
”

The sultry timbre of spa music blared from Molly’s phone and swallowed the remaining catchphrase. She threw the phone up to her ear. “This is Molly…yes
-
no.” She paused as chattering was audible from her phone. Her visage sharply changed. “You’ve got to be kidding me
-
still? You must be joking
-
”

Molly’s expression soured as she started to stand. Scanning the upturned faces of the curious boys, she said into the phone, “Hold on, I’ll be there momentarily.”

Monson started to protest. He did not want Molly to leave quite yet. She stopped him even before he could voice his objection.

“I’ll be back soon, Monson honey.” She gestured to the phone. “But I have to take care of this before it starts to get out of hand.”

With that, she left. Monson slumped further into his chair.

“You must really want to talk about this Damion thing, huh Grey? You know that’s sort of surprising considering everything you just found out.” 

Monson centered his attention on Casey. “Yeah, maybe I just want to get my mind off it.”

Artorius let out a weary breath. “I don’t blame you. The Diamond is thrashed, the info about Baroty Bridge is bursting at the seams, you’re hooking up with Harrison, and campus has more suits than Capitol Hill.” Artorius gave Casey an unexpected, outrageously cocky grin. “See
-
that’s
how you make a comparison.”

“You aren’t serious! My analogy was WAY better than yours.”

“
Than,
your analogy was way better THAN mine.”

“You’re aren’t serious. Than with an “a” and Then with an “e” sound exactly the same.”

“Yet you still screw it up.”

“I’m going to hit you, Arthur.”

Monson laughed again and was comforted to know that he was not the only one who used humor to deal with stressful situations.

Monson settled in to watch the show.

***

The rolling credits of their third three-hour movie marked the end of a truly epic experience: They were finally through the Fantasy phase of their marathon.

Monson scanned the quickly darkening room. Casey and Artorius were both fast asleep. For a devious moment Monson considered dumping ice-cold water on both of them. He would probably receive a good beating for it, but really, it might be worth it. He was reluctant to wake them, however. It was nice to have some alone time and enjoy the peace and quiet. He needed time with his thoughts and now was as good a time as any.

He meandered around the apartment engaging in various pursuits. He tried reading, playing with Artorius’ portable game console, surfing the Internet, and even considered returning to the crazy poetry he encountered on his first day at Coren, going so far as to pull the still-dusty tin from its hiding place. At the last moment, however, he stopped himself. More weird gibberish probably would not help. He sneered, extremely irritated. Nothing was working! He simply could not make any sense out of his current predicament. What was worse, he did not even know what question to ask, let alone where to find the answer.  He tossed the tin in frustration. It landed on the far side of his bed and rang as it struck something solid.

His irritation succumbed to curiosity.  He walked to the other side of the bed and found
-

“My
bokken
?” He instinctively glanced around the room as if searching for someone.

He could not remember leaving the mock weapon there, but then again he was quickly
-
he stopped himself mid-thought. That line of reasoning was rapidly
becoming something of a habit for him. He decided that he had left it on his bed and forgotten about it. No weird connotations, no spooky dreams or crazy voices; he had just forgotten. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

He removed the sword from his bed, pulling the cord of the purple drawstring bag. He slid the
bokken
out of the pouch and took up the handle; a very familiar feeling overtook him with the touch of the cool, hard wood.