The House of Grey- Volume 5

by Earl, Collin

  “Don’t be nasty,” she said, chiding him gently. “It takes a lot for a lady to get ready in the morning.”

  “We’re both here,” spat Indigo.

  “Well then, what does that imply?”

  “Why you little—”

  “Should we get going?” interrupted Christy. Catching on to Christy’s intentions, Monson, Artorius and Casey steered the three girls out of the common room, making sure that Taris and Indigo were not next to each other. Monson sighed. This was going to be a long day.

  Upon exiting the dormitories, their group encountered several other groups of students mulling around the grounds, presumably waiting for stragglers. Damion Peterson was among them. He stood slightly apart from his entourage and fidgeted nervously as he shot restless glances over his shoulder. On the other side of him sat a calm Cyann Harrison, who was reading and sipping from a bottle of water. She paid no attention to her date or his friends, despite many a girl hovering around trying to engage her.

  The older students all ignored Monson and his friends as they passed by, Indigo in the lead. All except Damion, who turned, flipping a half-nod at Monson. Monson smiled weakly in return. Cyann also looked up from her book just as Monson’s gaze was about to pass over her. Expressionless eyes briefly followed him but did not linger. Then she and Indigo locked eyes and Indigo shot her a wicked smile. Cyann nodded her acknowledgment, but did not return the smile. She never did.

  “I don’t understand what Damion sees in that girl,” said Taris as their group walked past, out of earshot. “She’s so gloomy.”

  “You’d better not let Indigo hear you,” said Monson. “They are sisters, after all.”

  “Oh sure—take her side.”

  “What?”

  “Hurry up, you two,” yelled Casey from a distance. “We’ll leave you guys behind otherwise.”

  ***

  That morning’s activities were a blur of action and conversation bogged down in awkwardness. Placing Taris and Indigo in the same group was not the most brilliant idea Monson’s friends had ever come up with. They simply disliked each other. Periodically, during their less-than-friendly banter, Monson took the opportunity to ponder the reason for their hostility, but like so many of the other mysteries in his life, the answer eluded him.

  Around noon the six of them separated, the girls heading to their rooms while the boys all wandered back towards Monson’s apartment. Upon their arrival, Marie and Grayson, who were chatting quietly by the window, greeted them.

  “Afternoon.” Marie stood and remained uncharacteristically still as a slightly pink tinge crept its way up her neck. “What are you guys doing back so early?”

  On reexamination, Monson noticed she looked kind of annoyed.

  “We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” he grinned maliciously. “We can go back outside if you want.”

  Grayson shot Monson an irritated sneer. Monson tried not to chuckle.

  “No, you aren’t interrupting,” commented Grayson smoothly. “We were just talking about you guys actually, but why are you back? We weren’t expecting you for at least another hour.”

  “I can’t speak for those two,” Casey pointed, either ignoring or not noticing Marie’s obvious annoyance. “But I had to get away from Christy. She is driving me insane.”

  “What?” Artorius plopped down on the couch. “I thought you liked her.”

  Casey followed Artorius, sighing as he sunk into the couch. “I did until I realized that my ears may actually fall off. I wonder if she even breathes while talking.”

  “Christy is actually very nice,” said Grayson, though he too laughed. “She just gets nervous.”

  “Do not be too hard on her; she is struggling right now, especially with all that has transpired these last few weeks,” added Marie calmly. “She is plainly pushing herself when she is really unsure as to how she feels.”

  “Huh?” responded Artorius, confused. “Why would that be a big deal?”

  “It is a huge deal,” retorted Marie sharply. “There are very few things that are as crippling as uncertainty.”

  Monson spoke up as a question occurred to him. “How could you possibly know that? And what is she so uncertain about?”

  Marie winked. “I pay attention, Master Grey. You’d be amazed at what you can learn when you do.”

  Monson listened closely. While on the surface the others showed various levels of interest, something told him they were all listening quite intently. Monson gestured for her to continue.

  “Christy is uncertain… unsure of her place.”

  What was the question that circulated among the boys, though Monson felt that he actually understood what Marie was getting at. Uncertainty. Not knowing who you are or what you stood for, or worst of all, not knowing your place in life, was all extremely crippling. For the briefest of moments, Monson felt a kind of kinship with Christy, for he too had experienced uncertainty as to who he had been…who he was now… who he was meant to be…. There were times when those questions became almost unbearable.

  He felt that he understood, maybe just a little, how she was feeling. The reason for her uncertainty was not difficult to figure out either, which made that blossoming feeling of kinship deepen ever so slightly. Monson was willing to bet his extensive fortune that Boston Timberland had a great deal to do with Christy’s problem. He made a mental note. Now he had two reasons to smack Boston.

  Such gloom. What a disheartening discussion. It was time for a change of pace.

  “Not to change the subject.” Monson tried to appear lively. “But shouldn’t we start getting ready? If we make those women wait, they’re going to kill us and I’d rather not die before I see Taris in her dress.”

  Artorius perked up. “Is it a good one?”

  Monson shrugged. “She seems to think so. Sent me a text about controlling my animal instinct once I saw her.”

  Artorius scowled. “Grey, have I told you lately that I—”

  “Hate me? Yeah, you mentioned that once or two thousand times.”

  Casey yawned outrageously before voicing his thought, as if Artorius had not spoken. “Come on, Grey. We’ve got ages until we’re supposed to leave.”

  He paused and then projected a more thespian persona. “In these trying times we have naught but each other to rely upon. Thus, let us tarry here for a fraction longer that we may strengthen our hearts and resolve in preparation for the battle that is bound to come.”

  Monson let the dramatization slide as he had the distinct feeling that Casey was acting out because of his own nerves. He had no decisive proof of such but really, he did not need any.

  Instinct, thought Monson. He smiled. Freakin’ Dawn.

  They all lingered, just as Casey had suggested, and even watched some anime, which surprisingly, Marie was really into. At a quarter to two, Casey and Artorius left to head back to their rooms. Marie and Grayson followed suit shortly after as the latter decided, at the last minute, to take his childhood friend to the dance. Before they departed, Grayson motioned Monson over to him and indicated that he should have a seat. Monson sat.

  “I’ve been feeling uneasy,” said Grayson in a whisper, despite the fact that only Marie remained in the room.

  “Really?” Monson bit at his lip, restraining himself. “Why?”

  “Don’t know.” Grayson’s face tightened. “Just one of those feelings, I guess.”

  “I’ve actually been feeling the same way,” confessed Monson. “It’s interesting that you bring it up.”

  Grayson smiled. “Good, then it isn’t just me. I’m telling you this to keep you on your guard. I have always been of the opinion that a person’s first answer is their real opinion and that a gut feeling isn’t just an expression.”

  “Gut feeling?” Dawn’s words about instinct came to his mind.

  “Yeah, a gut feeling,” replied Grayson. “I’m having one right now. I may be just totally off, totally out there. But something’s got my hair a-rising. Something�
�s up.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t just nervous about taking Marie to this dance?” Monson teased. “She’s an awfully pretty girl....” He left it hanging.

  “Grey!” Grayson blushed. “This is serious. I want you to be careful tonight; something just isn’t right.”

  “OK, OK,” said Monson. “I got it.”

  “Good,” said Grayson. He looked satisfied. “Now,” he said in a tone that plainly said he was ready to move on to other topics. “You’d better get ready; your date isn’t exactly what I would call the patient type.”

  The next two hours were full of nerves. He was left to himself, left with all of his questions and very little in the way of distractions. The double life he was living was really wearing on him. In one way he was totally normal: girls, school, friends, bullies all played a prominent part of that side of him. In his other life, he was something weird and unnatural, a Being of Seven Bloods who could supposedly perform acts of great power. Assuming of course any of that nonsense was actually true and he wasn’t simply losing it. Luckily, the latter self was keeping a low profile as of late, but still he felt that the two halves were on a collision course and he had no idea how to stop it, or even if he wanted to.

  At half past four Monson decided it was about time for him to get ready. He showered, shaved and had just about finished putting on his tie when he thought he heard a pounding.

  “You look good.” Dawn sounded highly amused as his voice drifted in and out of reception. Besides this annoying pitching in and out, Monson sensed an added layer of emotion in Dawn’s tone; something that maybe Dawn did not want Monson to know about. Monson gave it no notice, as he was too distracted to care about it right now. His nerves were at their very edge; he could not worry about anything else, not if he wanted to keep his bladder under control.

  “You need to relax; you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

  He heard more pounding. Monson wished that whatever Dawn was doing, he would knock it off.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about—do you have any idea how many people are coming to this thing tonight?” replied Monson silently. “Political figures, businessmen, A-list celebrities, the works. This dance is supposed to rival most award shows.”

  “That’s not saying very much; the Emmys were terrible this year.”

  “I’m serious.” Monson scowled at his mirror, growing frustrated with the bow tie. “What if I make a fool of myself?”

  “Since when do YOU care about such things?”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

  Monson sighed again. He still heard pounding. What was that?

  “Is there a particular reason you are ignoring the door?”

  “Oh crap,” he said aloud.

  Monson bolted to the front door. It was obvious now that someone was there, and having been too caught up in his own nervousness, he had failed to recognize the sound as knocking. He unlocked the massive oak door and swung it open, only briefly wondering where Brian was.

  Grayson and Marie stood there together, yet slightly apart.

  They both looked dressed to kill. Grayson was styling in a classic three-piece suit complete with vest and antique pocket watch. There was also a visible change in his demeanor. He looked nervous, uncomfortable, borderline apprehensive. A far different Grayson than the cool, collected genius that Monson had come to know. Actually, Grayson was acting a lot more like Monson during his first few months at Coren. It was not difficult to figure out what was making him so uneasy.

  Marie looked great. Her slender frame was draped in a long dress with a plunging neckline. Her skin glowed from the silky gold fabric and glittering rhinestone straps. Marie, quite plainly, had pulled out all the stops for the evening. She obviously wanted Grayson to notice her and as far as Monson could tell, she was doing a bang-up job.

  The pair entered his apartment, neither speaking nor looking at each other. Marie smiled when she saw the look on Monson’s face. Finally, after a moment of awkward silence, she spoke.

  “Are you ready?” Her voice was soft and poised.

  “I guess,” Monson replied. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  She walked up to him and helped him with his tie and collar.

  “You look good.”

  He smiled at the compliment, but felt that it was kind of lost on him.

  “You too.” He leaned forward a little. “I’m sure Grayson is jonesin’.”

  Marie put a hand up to her mouth; a childlike gesture and the first real indication that she was actually an eighteen-year-old girl.

  “Jonesin’?”

  Monson laughed. “Yeah, it’s something that Casey says sometimes. I thought I would give it a try.”

  Marie giggled. “What does it mean?”

  Monson looked Marie up and down in an exaggerated way. “Think about it. I’m sure you can come up with something.”

  She blushed slightly. Monson turned towards Grayson, who had yet to speak.

  “You two didn’t by chance see Artorius and Casey, did you?”

  Grayson looked up. “No, why?”

  “They were supposed to be here by now. I don’t know where—” His phone interrupted him. Monson reached for it just in time to see the flying envelope.

  “Speak of the devil.”

  He read the message and then slid his phone back into his pocket.

  “That was Casey,” said Monson in response to the questioning looks. “He says to meet them in front of the main arch.”

  Grayson nodded. “Let’s go.”

  The three of them were moving towards the door when Monson stutter stepped. He pulled out his phone and with flying fingers typed:

  TO: My Princess

  Taris, change of plans...we

  r meeting in front of the arch.

  Can u meet us there?

  5:05 pm

  Her reply came much faster than he expected.

  FROM: My Princess

  Perfect

  5:06 pm

  Casey, Christy, Artorius and Indigo were waiting for them under the arch, basking in the waning glow of the late afternoon sunlight. Casey and Artorius milled about nervously, looking totally unlike themselves in their crisp, expensive clothes, which were color-coordinated with their dates’ dresses.

  The girls looked incredible. Christy’s considerable assets were poured into a form-fitting midnight blue dress, fitted almost to the point where Monson gave pause to wonder how she was able to move. The dress reminded him of a curtain, gathered randomly down the length of the skirt.

  Indigo’s sassy ensemble suited her. She wore a very short brown mini-dress with spaghetti straps and a poufy balloon skirt. On her feet were gold three-inch heels held in place by rings that circled her big toes and ankles. There were many other students as well; they all seemed to be waiting for something.

  Monson, Marie and Grayson approached the group.

  “What’s up fellas?” called Monson when he was finally within earshot of his friends.

  “Grey!” Casey and Artorius echoed in unison. Casey stepped forward and he and Monson smacked hands, sliding back across each other’s palms, and then pounded their fists together.

  They walked towards the arch as admirers strayed close, shuffling around them like stray dogs. Other boys, some Monson recognized, others he did not, stared openly at Indigo, Marie and Christy as they all talked. He tried not to laugh. Casey pulled him aside and spoke nervously.

  “So what’s up?”

  “Nothing much going on here. You guys look terrible, by the way.”

  Casey ran a hand through his hair as he grinned.

  “You’re one to talk.”

  They both laughed, relieving some of their tension.

  “So what’s with all the people?” asked Monson, looking around at the assembled crowd. There seemed to be more people here than there should be. He glanced around once more, this time noticing that many of them had cameras.

  “Not a clue.” C
asey shook his head. “I knew this was going to be high-profile but I thought all the picture stuff was supposed to happen at the entrance ceremony. Kind of weird, isn’t it? I wonder why they’re here.”

  Artorius was the one who answered, surprising both Monson and Casey.

  “I’ll give you one guess.” He pointed towards the door.

  Taris Green was exiting the building

  Stunning was the only word that described the glamour presence now filling the doorway. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled into an elegant up-do, tight spirals framing her face and a large cream-colored flower adorning the back. Her long, clingy dress was strapless; a tight band of iridescent green across the bust wrapped around to her back, gems sparkling against the fabric. The color of the dress gradually lightened to a creamy white at the bottom and continued to the end of the train making the lower part basically see through. Her light green shoes matched perfectly and added a very edgy look to the outfit; the straps wrapped around her legs, stopping just below her knee.

  There was a collective gasp at her appearance. She stopped before the crowd, allowing people to swing their cameras to eye level and take dozens of shots of her million-dollar smile, which was accompanied by a look of surprised innocence that Monson was not quite sure he bought. Flashes erupted around them, lighting up the surrounding area. After a minute or two of this, Taris walked calmly towards Monson and the others.

  “Good evening, everyone,” she said as she closed the distance between them. Monson tried to look at her properly but the cameras were still going off; it was really annoying.

  “Evening,” replied Monson, approaching her. He gestured to the cameras. “Did you know about the photo op?”

  Taris shot him a dimpled smile. “I had an inkling they might be here.”

  Monson laughed. “I wondered why you weren’t upset about me not coming to get you.”

  She shrugged. “Being a star is awfully cutthroat, you know. You have to take every advantage.”