The House of Grey- Volume 1

by Earl, Collin

  The House of Grey- Volume #1

  By Collin Earl

  Copyright 2012, SilverStone Books. All rights reserved.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  A Message from the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter 1- A New Place

  Chapter 2- The Dean

  Chapter 3- A Gift

  Chapter 4- Dreams

  Chapter 5- Nightmares

  Chapter 6- Reception

  Chapter 7- Taris Green

  Chapter 8- Coach Able

  Chapter 9- Flirting with Trouble

  Chapter 10- The Voice

  Chapter 11- A Teacher Like None Other

  Chapter 12- Bokken

  Harmonics Series Books 1 & 2

  A Message from the Author

  Before you start this adventure with me, I want to give you a word of caution. This is NOT a traditional novel—not even close. The House of Grey has always been a labor of love for me as an author. I wrote it mainly because I wanted something that I thought I would enjoy—a story that spread across genres and spoke to many different readers and tastes. I wanted a story that had action, comedy, romance, and thrills, spearheaded by a dynamic, diverse, and lovable cast. I got just that in The House of Grey, which was released as a serialized audio book through iTunes and Podiobooks.com from 2008 to 2010.

  Because the characters and plot were so dynamic, it ended up blossoming into a 300,000-word beast of a tale. It was a great story, as confirmed by the hundreds of thousands of downloads and hundreds of reviews from fans, yet the problem was its sheer size. From a publishing standpoint, there was no way to split The House of Grey into manageable story lines without losing some of the stuff that makes it great. Basically, the book was too big and dang near impossible to change without completely changing the story. Thus, my dilemma: what do I do with this book that touched so many people with its characters and story, and turn it into something that I can feed into the mainstream YA novel format?

  That's when it hit me—I should put the story out on my terms. So, I now introduce you to The House of Grey Volumized Series. Since the story got its start as a serialized audio production, I decided to apply that model to The House of Grey print version. I know that if you are willing to break from the norm, this story will rock your socks off.

  - Collin Earl

  Prologue

  It was an average day in Western Washington, where average people went about their average lives. These average folks went to work and school, got stuck in traffic, and opened business for another day. School kids played in oversized raincoats while mud spattered around their ankles and large droplets of rain ran the length of their Scotch-guarded clothing. Parents moved slowly through water-covered streets as they navigated the early morning of one of the wettest days of the year.

  Ironically enough, it is these average days that so often become more than just an average day. Why, might you ask, did this day that started like all the rest become more than average? Well, it started with the dream of a man and a boy, a whole lot of studying, and a little bit of luck.

  An important-looking man stood on a stage in an event center in downtown Seattle. He was very well dressed, as if he were hosting a black tie event. His brown hair was groomed to perfection and the glare of stage lights reflected off white teeth. He spoke to a huge crowd of people in a smooth, almost silky voice.

  “Ladies and gentleman, in my five years of hosting this competition I have never seen anything like this. Our Challenger and Champion are neck and neck as they go into the final questions of the afternoon.”

  Cheers erupted all around as the huge crowd bellowed its approval at the man's words. This crowd was a spectacular one, composed of all kinds of people. Every age, sex, race, and ethnicity was present, because for the first time in fifteen years, the Coren University Academic Scholarship Competition had come down to its last round, to its last question. This was a great day for those who believed in and cheered for the underdog, as they believed this particular one had a real chance to upset. An upset that for more than one secretive and unfair reason should not be happening—should not happen now, or ever.

  This underdog looked the part, but he was not playing his assigned role well at all. Although clearly from humble origins, he spoke eloquently, neither abashed nor intimidated, blending in well among an unfamiliar crowd. He was handsome, with thick hair of darkest black, extraordinary blue-gray eyes, and a kind face. He gave off an air of both importance and conviction that was infectious. In truth, every time he stood to answer a question, a portion of the crowd would break into raucous applause. They wanted him to win, and they wanted him to feel that they wanted him to win . . . and feel it he did. The young man, being the humble sort, merely smiled in reaction to the crowd, showing his gratitude with the slightest of gestures. An occasional, almost embarrassed wave and a simple smile made the mothers and daughters sway and the fathers wonder what they needed to do to raise a young man like that.

  This competition was an uphill battle for this young man, an unknown in all circles from the political to the popular. He swept onto the scene with blaring intelligence, decimating contestants more than three years his senior. Slowly, the hearts of those who witnessed his struggle melted as over and over again he fired off answers to history's mysteries. Things went so well that by the time the finals came around, the underdog was not so “under” anymore.

  The man hosting the event put up a hand as the crowd, in the spirit of competition, let out another thunderous round of applause. He showed them a toothy smile.

  "Now it has all come down to this, ladies and gentlemen, our challenger still holding strong right behind our champion as we go into the final round."

  More applause and catcalls split the air.

  "Let me remind our audience of the scoring scale. Each question is worth five points, with the ability to pass to their opponent up to three questions, in addition to a 'doubler' in each round. Depending on how quickly you answer, the doubler can become a ten-point question."

  The crowd was not paying attention to this part. This was just a wannabe game show host doing his wannabe game show thing. They had heard all this explained before, but wait —

  "I know what you are thinking," the man said, his coy smile becoming more mischievous by the second. "We know all this. Why are you repeating it? Well, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll tell you why I’m repeating myself: This round is going to be a little different."

  The crowd went silent at his words. Something different, they asked collectively. What could they possibly do differently? No, they couldn’t change it now. Do not mess with the status quo; there is too much at stake.

  "I would remind you," he said, gaining momentum now that he knew he had their attention, " that you will all find out as we go into this last round." He turned and looked at a large television camera. "I will let you know all this and more —right after this."

  People groaned at his pronouncement. It was given that an entertainer would cut to a commercial right when the show was getting exciting. For those in the audience, however, it was downright annoying.

  Despite the relatively short break, most of the people in the audience grumbled as the stagehands made the necessary changes for the final round of the competition. Each person in the audience took little notice of those around t
hem. Many, after all, were rich and important. Of course, with the success of this no-name challenger, the commoners seemed to come out of the woodwork. Well, the rich and important did not have time for mingling with commoners. Keep your distance—it was an unspoken rule. However, every rule has an exception, and this one was no different.

  A young girl, no older than five, sat in the back row in the last seat of the hall. She was beautifully dressed -with perfectly arranged hair courtesy of her personal stylist. Her family typically spent the day shopping at the most expensive stores, eating at the very best restaurants, and whiling away the hours on the streets of Seattle. Now they sat in a stuffy hall watching some sort of game show. In truth, she was too far back to really see what was happening and a little too young to even appreciate it. To her credit, she tried to act interested, she really did. Mommy and Daddy were acting like this was important, but she just couldn't get her heart into it, no matter how hard she tried.

  What was the big deal anyway? There were so many people here and they were all paying close attention, especially to the pretty boy at the front. Actually, she wasn't even sure he was a boy. He kind of looked like a girl. There was a noise behind the girl, startling her. She turned her little frame to peer over her shoulder. There was a man. She blinked in confusion. Was he there before? She thought back to when she entered the hall. She didn't remember anyone being there, but she hadn't been paying close attention. She pondered a moment more. No, he couldn't have been there before. She was in the last row in the last seat. He must have moved his chair to that corner, but she would have heard him, she would have noticed. Wouldn't she?

  The girl pivoted again in her seat to look at him, trying to move so he wouldn't notice. He was a funny man, wasn't he? He sat completely stationary, not moving at all. She wondered why he wasn't moving. Maybe he was sleeping? This seemed like an odd place to sleep. She put his lack of movement aside for a moment as she noticed something else.

  You really are a funny man, aren't you? Why are you wearing such a big overcoat and hood? She laughed. His coat was funny, too. It didn't have any place for the arms. She giggled a bit more. Isn't that weird? Why make a coat without armholes? Oh, wait. Maybe he was one of those people she saw on the road from time to time, the ones with the signs. A sad feeling crept into her heart. He had a funny coat because he couldn't afford another one. And . . . and she had laughed at him. How mean! That's not something you should do. She had to apologize. That's what you do, right? When you make a mistake, you say I'm sorry. But it looked like he was still sleeping. Should she wake him? If she did, she would have to apologize for waking him, too! What she should do?

  Oddly enough, as if he had been listening to her thoughts, the man sat up, one eye visible under the hood of the coat. It was a minute or so before she noticed.

  She gave a start as she saw the dark eye of the man. Could eyes really even be that dark? It looked almost black. The girl continued to feel confused. Why did he pick black when something like pink is so much nicer? Grownups sure did funny things sometimes.

  She knew better than to talk to strangers, but her childish curiosity getting the better of her, she lifted up a hand and waved.

  The man smiled back.

  Oh, what a nice smile. You should really smile more often; you wouldn't be so scary. Hey, what are you doing?

  The man sat up a little straighter and leaned toward the little girl. Despite the fact that she had decided he was a nice man, she shrank back. OK, he was still a little scary.

  The man lifted a hand out from underneath his funny coat showing her there was nothing in it.

  Oh I see, you are about to do magic, aren't you? There was something like this at her birthday party last year. This man, however, was a bit different than the clown she had seen so many months ago. When the clown did magic, he showed her and her friends his hands. At first nothing was in them, then, poof, there were flowers! It was amazing. Her brother had said it wasn't real, that the flowers were fake and had just been hidden. She, however, knew that was crazy. Flowers don't just appear, and magic really existed—she had seen it. The little girl wondered if this man really was going to do magic.

  She was not disappointed.

  He was performing magic, though his way was much different than the clown's. She thought that he was praying or something as he did some weird movement with his first two fingers while they pointed in the air.

  Many questions bobbled around her head as she tried her best to comprehend what the man was doing. She received another shock as a funny light gathered around the man's hand. Was she seeing this right?

  This new light didn't last long, as suddenly, a lollipop appeared! The little girl's eyes brightened as she looked at the lollipop. It was multicolored and as big as her head. Maybe he would share.

  Oh, that's not how you hold a lollipop! You're going to drop it.

  The man had taken the sucker and placed it stick down on the palm of his hand. He was balancing it on the palm of his hand. It sat there completely still. Frozen.

  She looked on in awe, transfixed at the sight before her. This was unfortunate, because if she had been less distracted by the lollipop, she would have noticed his rather suspicious behavior.

  "Welcome back, ladies and gentleman!" rang out the voice of the man on stage, effectively catching the attention of all those in the audience. "Now, allow me to explain our exciting change of. . "

  The girl stopped listening again. She didn't understand what the silly man at the front was talking about anyway. Besides, the man with the lollipop was much more — Hey, where did it go?

  The lollipop was gone! He'd eaten it all? No way! He didn't even share! And she had thought he was a nice man. The girl sat back in her seat, feeling sad. Suddenly, there was a tap on her shoulder.

  It was the man, and he was giving her a weird look. He was awfully hard to understand, this man with the funny coat. His two fingers were up again and moving quickly through the air, much faster than they had before. Are you praying again? But then why did you tap me on the shoulder?

  Out of nowhere, he spoke.

  "Look in your pocket.”

  His voice was soft, almost musical. It had an indefinable effect on the girl. She felt lighter, though she didn't understand why. She did what she was told. Slowly she reached her hand into her pocket.

  She felt something. What did she feel? It was small, long, round, and hard. What . . . what could it be?

  She started to pull at the object in her pocket when the lollipop came out with a small jerk. No, wait, that's impossible. It's too big. There is no way! Should . . . ?

  A voice interrupted her.

  "Well, it's about time to go to work."

  The man. He had spoken. Softly, yet with brilliance. Almost forgetting the sucker in her hand, the girl once again turned.

  He was praying again.

  Two fingers pointed upward and again moved with curious gestures. Up, down, left, right, half circle. They were too fast. She couldn't keep track.

  More light? It was coming from his sleeve again. What was happening?

  The young girl jumped as the crowd let out a collective moan. The loud man at the front was talking fast. The girl turned back toward the stage in time to see the pretty boy standing with an arm raised in triumph. He appeared to be scanning the back of the hall, looking, searching.

  Before the girl could figure out what was going on, she was distracted again, this time by the loud man with the microphone.

  "I don't believe it!" he almost screamed, "I don't believe it! For the first time in the history of Coren University, a FRESHMAN has won!"

  What? It's over? And the boy who looks like a girl won? Wait, isn't this all pretend? He wasn't supposed to win. Mommy and Daddy had said the winner had already been decided.

  She heard a small snicker.

  The man. The man behind her. The boy, the boy up front. He had been searching. Who had he been searching for? The girl turned back around to the man.
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  Only there was nothing there. No man, no funny coat, not even a chair. But she still had the lollipop. He had been there.

  "Are you enjoying your sucker, honey?" asked the girl's mother in a sweet voice.” Try to save some for later. We’re going to eat soon."

  What? How did she know about the lollipop? She hadn't shown Mommy, Daddy or anyone.

  "Remember, if you're a good girl we'll go back to the Fun Factory and get you another sometime."

  "Mommy," the girl replied, unsure of herself. She noticed a funny, almost glazed look in her mother's eyes, like she was dreaming. "What do you mean?"

  "Silly girl," her mother answered, "you must be tired. Had a bit too much excitement for one day? Your father bought that sucker this afternoon at the Fun Factory, remember? It's your favorite candy store."

  "Oh," the girl said. "But Mommy, I didn't —"

  The girl cut herself short. Her mother was no longer paying attention, and the dreamy look was gone from her eyes. Her brother had just walked up to their row from the stage and he looked disappointed.

  Fun Factory? She didn't go to the Fun Factory today, did she? There was a man. He had a funny coat. He gave her a lollipop. He had been here. The girl turned again, looking for the man she now wasn't sure existed.

  Chapter 1 - A New Place

  An older-looking minivan rode smoothly up Main Street in a town in Western Washington. A young man slept under a blanket in the back while a chubby yet cute middle-aged woman with mocha brown hair drove, whistling tunelessly.

  "Monson, honey, we're here."

  Monson Grey awoke with a start, but immediately closed his eyes again. He had been sleeping and Molly totally woke him up. Uncool. Completely and totally uncool.

  "Molly, not only was I actually sleeping, I was having the best dream ever! Curse you, you irritatingly spiteful woman, for waking me up."