The House of Grey- Volume 3

by Earl, Collin

  His gentle expression quickly became rather devious, which in turn made Monson feel like he had missed something.

  “It isn’t a lie, Brian. You are my friend, aren’t you?”

  “Of course, Master Grey, but my dual role of friend and counselor does not alter my position as your servant. If you understand that truth, then one day you can perhaps understand my role in your life. The acquisition of knowledge starts with truth. You have to understand the true nature of something…or someone if you are to truly understand and gain knowledge concerning it or them. There is great power in understanding, and understanding only comes from truth. Therefore we must seek truth.”

  Regrettably, as so often happened when Brian interjected himself into the conversation, Monson was completely lost as to the point or relevance of his perfectly articulated discourse. Cyann, however, seemed unfazed.

  “So if gathering truth is the only way to really understand someone, to understand oneself, then how does one gather truth about another person?”

  Monson felt his jaw constrict and he realized what she was asking. He did not like where this conversation was going.

  “Why do you ask, Ms. Harrison?”

  Cyann’s next movement was curious. She brought her hand up to her mouth and started to nibble at the fingernail on her pinky.

  Monson held back a laugh. That was a nervous gesture if he had ever seen one. It made her look younger, more innocent.

  Cyann’s response was lost to the opening of Monson’s door.

  “Monson honey, could you turn on All Acc-”

  Molly stopped mid-sentence. “Well, hello there.”

  Cyann nodded her head and stood, and walked towards Molly. “Cyann Harrison.”

  “Cyann Harrison?” Molly shot Monson a grin so wide she would have a received a callback for the part of the Joker in the next Batman remake. “As in, the daughter of Guy Harrison?”

  Cyann dipped her chin once in response.

  “Excellent!” exclaimed Molly. She threw her arms around the unsuspecting girl. “I am so happy to meet you! How do you know my Monson? What are your intentions? I will not forgive you if you hurt him, you know.”

  Monson was not one to get embarrassed easily. With a face like his, thicker skin was definitely better. This once, however, he wanted to crawl into a hole and bury himself in it.

  Artorius and Casey snickered through bites of sandwich. Molly released Cyann, whose expression mirrored Monson’s. As such, it did not surprise him when she said, “Well, if you’re alright, Monson, I’d better go.” She addressed Brian and Molly. “It was very nice meeting you both.”

  Before any of them could respond, Cyann nodded towards Casey and Artorius, walked to the door, and left. Monson did not even have the chance to thank her.

  Casey and Artorius rounded on Monson, speaking harshly.

  “DUDE, why didn’t you ask her to stay?”

  Monson raised his eyebrow. “What? Why would I do that?”

  Truthfully, for him it was the exact opposite; he was relieved to have her gone.

  “Why would you do that? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? Grey, I swear you’re gonna give me an aneurism. Why would you do that? Maybe because she’s hot to trot and wants you like an Eskimo wants an Eskimo pie.”

  “Yeah, Case, that’s another comparison that kind of fails to deliver. Really not enough punch,” said Artorius through a mouthful of food. He slammed a couple of gulps from his soda. “I’m not sure that Eskimos really have anything to do with Eskimo pies. As matter of fact, Casey, do you even know what an Eskimo pie is?”

  He chuckled. “How about this one-she wants you like Derek Dayton wants another nose job.”

  Monson laughed. “That was a good one, Arthur.”

  “Arthur! So not helping.” Casey turned back towards Monson. “First of all, what was she doing here and why was she helping you walk? Wait, no, the point is she was HERE and she wanted to stay! Why didn’t you ask-”

  Monson interrupted. “Casey, you have to stop with the delusions of grandeur. If Cyann really wanted to stay, she would have. She’s not interested in me that way. I’m not interested in her that way. She’s weird-I’m weird-the situation is weird. Just drop it, would you?”

  ”How do you know that she’s not interested in you? Did you guys have another moment?” asked Casey.

  “Yeah Grey, twice in two days.” Artorius spit through gritted teeth. “Twice now we’ve caught you all lovey-dovey with Cyann, and you’re still-”

  “Monson honey.”

  Monson cringed. Molly was about to say her peace. “How is it possible that you’ve been spending time with Guy Harrison’s eldest daughter and I didn’t know about it?”

  Monson grimaced in frustration. “I’m not spending time with her. We’ve spoken a couple of times. She is not interested in me romantically-”

  “Who said anything about you two being romantic?” Molly smiled at him smugly like she had just caught him in a lie.

  “Lovey-dovey, Grey. Not once but twice, IN TWO DAYS!!” Artorius crossed his arms matter-of-factly.

  Molly pursed her lips contemplatively. “Lovey-dovey?”

  Casey nodded. “Yeah, that’s the technical term I believe.”

  Molly chortled heartily.

  “OK, topic change,” said Monson, trying to sound unconcerned.

  The impending silence baffled him. “Oh come on, there has got to be something else we can talk about!”

  “We can change the topic after you admit that you like that girl, Grey.” Casey mimicked Artorius crossing his arms as he spoke.

  Monson rubbed at his temples. Why didn’t they get it? There was so much more happening than they understood.

  He answered his own question.

  Because you haven’t explained the situation to them, Monson thought. Yet, seeing as he did not even understand the exact nature of Cyann’s odd behavior, it was not as if he could pass off his speculation as truth. So how was he supposed to explain a hunch?

  Monson’s eyebrows creased. Cyann was right, he was an idiot. He quickly made a decision.

  “I think that Cyann is a nice girl.”

  “And?” Casey, Molly, Artorius and even Brian were hanging on his every word. He saw that this was becoming something of a habit.

  “And that’s it. It’s hard to explain, but we aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend and I don’t plan on us being like that. She doesn’t either. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Then what is your relationship?” asked Molly.

  “Truthfully?” Monson gave her a deathly serious look, trying to instill in her that he was all business.

  Molly nodded at the same time, saying, “Just explain to me what she means to you.”

  Monson shook his head. “You don’t understand. There are things that you don’t know. Connections that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.”

  Shocked surprise filled the room. “Monson honey, what do you mean?”

  Monson thought about this, stewing on the information for several moments. “I mean, to define our relationship would force me to tell you something that I promised I would keep locked away. A promise I swore to keep under all circumstances.”

  “Can you at least give us a hint?” prompted Casey with rising excitement. “Something to set us on the right track?”

  Monson shook his head. “It’s too horrible to speak of. The fact that I’m…that I’m in….”

  Molly and the others unconsciously moved towards him as if to coax the words out of him.

  Monson finished his thought. “The fact that I’m…in love with my sister. Cyann is my sister.”

  Chapter 34 – Revelation

  The air of disbelief hung heavily around the small gathering.

  Artorius rubbed at his stubble. “Grey is adopted.”

  Casey echoed the sentiment, drawing the parallel. “Cyan is adopted. Dude, are you serious? Is this really happening?”

  Monson hung his head as if weighed down by the tension. He sni
ffed. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Knowing that I am in love with my sister, it’s too much.”

  Monson’s body started to quiver as he wrapped his arms around his chest.

  “How did you find out, Grey? How do you know?” Artorius moved towards Monson but stopped when he saw the shaking. “Dude, are you OK?”

  “Of course he’s not OK,” answered Casey abrasively. “How could he be? He just found out that the girl he’s in love with is his-”

  Casey cut his thought short. “Wait a second. How on earth could you know that Cyann is your-”

  Monson looked up, tears flowing from his face. Tears, not of startling, life-changing sorrow, but for a successful gag received hook, line and sinker.

  Casey and Artorius searched Monson's face, and within a half-second knew.

  “Cyann’s not really your sister, is she?” grumbled Casey.

  “And you aren’t really in love with her, are you?” added Artorius.

  Monson did not comment.

  “You were totally playing with us.” They said in unison.

  Monson’s merriment gushed forth like the breaking of a massive dam. The laughter was so thick and so heavy he almost lost control of everything related to proper adulthood, from bladder control to breathing. He was laughing so hard that he did not even flinch when two pillows, Molly’s wallet, and a dishtowel struck him at nearly the exact same time.

  Artorius pounced on him. “Grey, I think you need to be punished!” He sat on Monson, crushing him under his massive weight.

  “Oh come on guys, it was just a joke,” said Monson in an attempt to pacify them all. “You guys give me crap all the time. I get you once and you freak out! How is that fair? Besides, SERIOUSLY, you should have seen your faces!”

  A scowl breeched Casey’s brow the instant he said this.

  “Grey, you are so-”

  “Dead? I know.” Monson prepared to defend himself.

  ***

  Hours later, in the dead of night, Monson awoke. He glanced at the clock.

  3:00 a.m., huh? he thought through the haze of retreating sleep. At least I was right on the hour. That’s something to be proud of.

  Normally, Monson would have been upset or at least very annoyed at waking up at this hour. While his sleep was hardly peaceful, he still needed a great deal of it. He felt tired often, his exhaustion most likely a by-product of the attack on Baroty Bridge.

  And it was these defenseless moments in the middle of the night that were so often brutal to his emotional well-being. When he was alone, in the dark, he experienced fear. Between the unknown, day and nighttime nightmares, and lack of memory he was never without something to fear. And this was just the weird stuff. Never mind the mundane like classes, girls and schoolwork. He wondered if he would be able to ever truly erase that feeling of helplessness.

  But this time he didn’t mind waking; he wanted to ponder all the events that circled him like hungry vultures. Damion, Baroty Bridge, the cloaked man, his evil and sadistic self, all of them swarmed the borders of his sanity, pricking his person with their stingers of frustration, enigma and fear. How much longer would he have to endure this before something would make sense?

  As if on cue, his phone beeped, indicating an RSS feed update on GossipGuyBlog.com. Casey had been adamant about placing the handy little program on his phone’s web browser. Monson tapped the story.

  Dixen here, your shadowy figure in the field, giving you the rough-and-tumble of goings-on at Coren University. Don’t try and figure out who I am, because you never will.

  So, here’s what’s happening. You got my last update on the brutal attack on Damion “The Diamond” Peterson, then you saw the extra security detail on the way to classes yesterday morning. It is plain to see the question that is burning in everyone’s gut: Who attacked the Diamond and why-

  Monson stopped reading. He already knew who attacked Damion. He did not need to read more conjecture. The browser page slid downward as additional updates loaded. Monson read the taglines under the photos, the first of which was another close-up view of Damion’s completely unrecognizable face.

  Despite the school’s refusal to acknowledge the brutal attack on the Diamond, this reporter was able to sneak into the restricted section of the hospital and take these additional pictures for proof.

  Monson studied the picture, trying to recognize or find something that might help him understand the events surrounding him and Damion. Nothing came. No flash of recognition or suppressed memory; nothing but foreboding, saturated with uneasiness. He read the blurb again. The school refused to admit his injury? Now that was interesting. It was not as if they could keep it a secret. The kid was a superstar and they were right in the middle of football season. Why on earth would they hide it? What was he missing?

  Monson rolled out of bed, no longer tired. He headed to the window seat of his bedroom, pulling at the fleece blanket folded neatly in the corner.

  Molly, he thought with a smile. Of course she would fold it. Tidy. You always have to tidy up. Cleanliness is next to godliness.

  “Godliness,” Monson said in a dull whisper. Molly used this particular expression a lot and he always found it odd. What is godliness? What was the definition of godliness? Was one godly if one had all the power, but would still not intervene to relieve suffering? Was it godly to allow bad things to happen for no rhyme or reason? Godliness…pssh, what had God done for him lately?

  Monson shook his head, trying to flush out his anger. Getting angry at God was about as stupid as getting angry at a bedpost and kicking it out of spite. It could not help and would probably end up hurting him more than helping. Even so, he knocked over a stack of clean clothes just to make the room a little messier. Once that was done, he had to confess that he felt a bit better.

  He put his forehead to the cool glass. He needed to direct this thoughts towards something helpful and if not helpful, at least not stupid. He decided he would watch some TV. The soap channel usually had something good on.

  Monson stood and moved towards his sitting room, yawning outrageously as he did. He retrieved a soda from the icebox and sat down with the wireless touchscreen controller. He touched the button to open the entertainment center. It took him some time to remember how everything worked, realizing now that Casey was the one who usually handled the electronics. After another few minutes of annoying button pushing, the TV flipped on.

  The image of Taris Green greeted him.

  He lifted his eyebrow in surprise. It still shocked him every single time he was reminded of Taris’ fame and desirability. Despite the months of knowing her, he was still amazed.

  One could not help but watch Taris, focus on her. She absolutely lived for the camera and did she look good on it. She was especially attractive today. A green blouse with a plunging neckline and push-up bra made her look bustier then she really was. Covering her narrow shoulders was a creamy half-jacket that cut off just below the bust. Black pants and green heels rounded off her outfit. An annoying-looking host spoke to her about her new song and video while suavely leaning towards her. The twenty-something fool was obviously entranced by his guest and was having a hard time hiding his attraction. Taris pretended not to notice, smiling in a slightly artificial way and even touching him on occasion, but nothing overt that he could take out of context. No, she was too much of a professional for that. Simple movements and gestures, that was all it took. A few more minutes and the grease-haired host would be wearing a collar and begging for table scraps.

  Monson shuddered. Now that was a horrible image.

  The host took some phone calls next, a thirteen-year-old boy from Iowa absolutely ecstatic he got through, an eighteen-year-old high school senior from Idaho asking about Taris’ tour and new CD, and a nineteen-year-old foreign-exchange student living in California who came on speaking a mix of English and German. Taris took a conversational type of breath, deep, but not so deep that she would choke on your own biological process of
converting oxygen into CO2. She let the breath out almost as soon as she took it, her face appearing slightly red. Within seconds, a translator with massive coke-bottle frames was at her side, speaking in German to the student, who responded with enthusiasm.

  Wow, they really do prepare for everything, don’t they, thought Monson. The exchanged lasted for a few moments. The camera, however, was edging closer to Taris who was completely oblivious to the impending close-up. He scrutinized her face, reminded of how long it had been since he had last seen her. He found that he suddenly missed her.

  A slight movement, like a fleeting shadow, halted the rest of Monson’s thought.

  The expression on her face, thought Monson. She looks annoyed and impatient. He laughed. She was so readable. She started to answer even before the translator finished relaying the question.

  He tossed his head back picking up his phone. That girl lived in an entirely different world. Being with her at school, talking to her the way that he did, it was sometimes easy to forget how famous she was. The awareness returned in full force as he watched her on MTV. He turned the interview down. This was another one of those girls he would never understand.

  He turned his attention to his phone. He touched the link that would take him back to Gossip Guy’s home page and waited for the browser to load. The initial article and the update Monson had just read about Damion and his unfortunate encounter in his private weight room dominated the very top of the page as expected. Monson scrolled downwards hoping to find something more appealing to read about, but stopped abruptly when a picture of Cyann, one that he had not seen before, popped out at him like a jack-in-the-box. The picture showed Cyann on some white sand beach wearing a-

  “A long-sleeved shirt?” said he aloud. “Who wears a long-sleeved shirt on the beach?”

  That was exactly fair. There could be any number of reasons she was wearing a long sleeve shirt. Maybe it was cold? He rebuked himself, who was he to criticize? Covering up the body is something that he would have done. Granted, he was not a beautiful girl like Cyann and he had much more of an excuse then she did. He would not want people to gawk at his scars. Regardless of his initial stupor, it would be a lie to say he was really surprised; it was not like Cyann was the flashiest of individuals. That was Taris. Heck, Taris was flashy enough for the both of them.