The House of Grey- Volume 4

by Earl, Collin

  On a Saturday evening a few weeks before the Solstice, Monson, Artorius and Casey were making plans for the dance and, to their dismay, found out that they were in way over their heads.

  “I can’t believe how much this is going to cost,” Monson scrunched his eyebrows as he looked at the notepad. “Talk about a waste.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you’re one of the wealthiest people here then,” Artorius teased. “Grey, try to be a bit more excited. You’re going to the Spring Solstice with Taris freakin’ Green! I know any number of guys who’d kill to be in your position. As matter of fact, they probably would be willing to kill you, given the chance.”

  “So are you and Indigo dressing to match?” asked Casey, popping popcorn into his mouth. “I would remind you not to forget the dog collar.”

  “You know, Casey,” Artorius started, a wry look skirting the edges of his mouth, “if I didn’t know any better I would say that YOU are jealous. If you were interested in Indigo you should have just said so.”

  Casey’s eyes narrowed like they always did before one of his exchanges with Artorius. “Number one, if I was interested in Indigo, I could probably get her—which would leave you to curl up in the fetal position and cry. Number two...hmm…actually, I don’t think I need a number two. Number one pretty much covers it.”

  Monson, sensing danger, attempted to divert the conversation. “You know fellas, it’s getting to be about that time. We’d better call it a night. I have to meet Taris tomorrow and she’s going to be pissed if I’m late.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Casey yawned as he motioned to Artorius. “Come on, Arthur. We can finish this tomorrow.” Mission accomplished, thought Monson. His two friends stood up, collected their things, and said their goodbyes. Once again, Monson was alone.

  He cleaned up a little, not thinking about anything in particular. More serious topics were ever-present at the base of his consciousness, but he pushed those thoughts away, distracting himself by cleaning and trying to enjoy the silence.

  After he had straightened up most of the apartment, he headed off to bed though he was not feeling particularly tired. What he really wanted to do was just sit and think for a while. The subject up for scrutiny: Taris Green. Monson had gone from asking a girl to a dance to spending most of his free time with said girl. He was trying to understand how that had happened.

  Not that he disliked spending time with Taris; she was cute, fun and at times, very sweet. Despite all that, however, he felt a persistent nagging feeling, like a scratch he needed to itch, and for whatever reason, he could not place his finger on the source of this uneasiness. He wished there was someone to talk with concerning his reservations, but in that particular department, most of his friends were lacking. Casey would just mock him and Artorius would rant about how lucky he was. He didn’t particularly want to have the conversation with Brian, as the man had an annoying habit of knowing exactly what Monson was feeling even before he did. Monson knew whom he wanted to talk to; that much was obvious. Little chance of that now, however. Not the way things were currently going.

  He let out a deep breath, trying to soothe his feelings of disquiet. He glowered, irritated by his lack of control over his emotions. He decided to sleep and see if he came up with any strokes of brilliance.

  ***

  Monson awoke abruptly as if someone had been blowing in his ear. He groped for the clock, which read 3:00 a.m.

  He stretched, tensing every part of his body, and opened his eyes. He squinted as a weird grayish light threw his room into a weird sort of contrast making the space and shadows appear contorted and strange. He again closed his eyes trying to understand what was happening.

  “Monson….”

  As the sound of his own name reverberated, Monson again opened his eyes, this time to a completely dark, seemingly normal room. No light, no contrast, and no one around who could have spoken to him. He sat up in a half-daze. As he touched the floor, he noticed how warm and comfortable it felt. He walked to the bathroom and tried to flip on the light, grimacing as he moved the switch up and down with no effect. He cursed as he felt around and proceeded to turn on the water tap. He splashed a few cupped handfuls onto his face. Eyes closed, he groped for a towel.

  I must be losing my mind, he thought, still trying to find the towel. I need to start going to bed earlier.

  Monson found the towel and dabbed at his face, feeling better. His mind was playing tricks on him. He wasn’t crazy….

  He finished drying his face and squinted at himself in the mirror. His reflection, however, was not squinting back.

  Monson took a deep, calming breath. He stared at his reflection. To his surprise, he was calm.

  “It’s been a while. And here I thought that you’d packed up and left.” He attempted to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. The two Monsons scrutinized each other. They looked exactly alike down to the very last freckle—with one stark difference. As before, the Monson in the mirror did not have any scars. “So are you the good witch or the bad witch?”

  Monson squinted again as his reflection mouthed something; something that Monson could not understand. The other Monson turned around, apparently intending to leave.

  “Wait!” called Monson, reaching towards the mirror. “Don’t go yet!”

  He intended to put his hand on the mirror. But to his utter surprise, that very hand slipped through the surface as easily as through a pool of silvery water. His mirrored self turned suddenly and caught his hand pulling him, and Monson Grey slipped beneath the surface of the glass.

  The other Monson spoke. “It is about time you decided to join me. I have been attempting to communicate with you for months now.”

  Monson watched himself with some uneasiness, unsure how he felt about the current development. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “A very interesting question.” The other Monson’s smile deepened. “But hardly important at this point. There are things that you need to see and even more important things that we must discuss, all before you wake up.”

  “I’m dreaming then?” Monson felt slightly relieved. “Oh good. I’m just going to go back through my mirror if you don’t mind.”

  The other Monson smacked the original on the head.

  “Ouch!” Monson gave his counterpart an angry look. “What the heck was that for?”

  “That was for being smart. Now follow me; there is a lot that I have to tell you and not a lot of time.”

  “Follow you where? We’re in a mirror—well, actually, we’re in one of my dreams….”

  His voice trailed off as the scenery around, above and underneath him changed. Right before their very eyes, a dream world materialized from black nothingness.

  “You were saying?” Monson’s clone grinned smugly.

  Monson did not respond, but merely muttered to himself in an annoyingly high-pitched voice, “You were saying?”

  Stupid echo, mirror, clone thing, he thought.

  Monson and his twin now stood in the heart of a beautiful, almost mystical forest. Huge trees towered over them as beams of broken light breached the canopy, reflecting off the dew-covered vegetation. A cool, almost chilly breeze blew through the branches of the forest, sounding a heavenly song as if instruments were being played in the upper reaches of the trees. The two Monsons walked, the original in absolute wonderment as he absorbed the beautiful sights and sounds, never straying from the neatly clipped grass path they followed.

  They traveled to the bank of a very wide river, which wrapped neatly around the base of a massive mountain. The river was huge, with deep water so clear it was as if not even dirt had a place within its depths. The roar of rapids sounded in the distance.

  Hmm… he thought. Why don’t I have more dreams like this?

  “Monson.” The other Monson stopped at the bank of the huge, sparkling river. “Before we go any further, I want to apologize to you.”

  “Apologize?” Monson said calmly. “Why?”

&nbs
p; “I know that the last few months have been tough on you.” The other Monson knelt down and trailed his fingers through the crystal clear water. “You have been through a horrific ordeal and I am responsible for great deal of it.”

  Monson easily recalled some of the more “exciting” events of the last few months, having been unable to block out his near-death experiences, his potentially imagined encounter in the weight room, his attack on the man in the black cloak, and his nighttime adventure with Casey and Artorius. “Yeah, I know we aren’t on the subject, but you never answered my question. Are you the good one?”

  The other Monson laughed. “Yes indeed, I am.”

  “Good. So for future reference, the next time you try to get ahold of me can we figure out something better? I’ve seen way too many horror movies for the whole ‘different self’-thing to not freak me out. Then again, at least I know you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

  “Again, I am truly sorry. You must understand—if they somehow gain access to your mind…this is the only way that I might be able to avoid detection.”

  Monson grinned playfully. “So this isn’t your real form? You wouldn’t be by chance a really hot girl, would you?”

  “Grey,” said the other Monson with a stern note in his voice, though Monson could tell that he was trying not to smile, “this is serious.”

  “I was just asking.”

  “It is all right.” He gazed out over the huge river. “And no, I am not a girl.”

  Monson snapped his fingers in disappointment.

  “I have three things that I must tell you before you wake up.”

  “ Three? Well I don’t know about that -- I should have brought my day planner.” Monson replied sardonically.

  The scar-less Monson turned his gaze on the other with a very serious look. “You need to tell your guardian that the initial gate has been breached, and suppressing it is growing close to impossible as the Keeper becomes more and more impatient.”

  Monson cocked the eyebrow. Homie say what?

  “I’m afraid that I don’t understand,” Monson said aloud.

  “I know you do not have reason to, but I need you to trust me. Establishing this link and bringing you to this world is very difficult. I cannot do it very often and it could harm your current divided state. I assure you it was necessary, but that does not make it any less dangerous. You are not going to understand most of what I am going to tell you or why it is so important, but I promise you that it is. Please memorize it, and at the right time you will know what I am talking about.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Good. Monson, I need you to control your emotions. Take a deep breath. Count to ten. I do not care how, but it is very important that you do so. They are going to be on watch for any signs and currently I am just not strong enough to control you without some…collateral damage occurring.”

  Monson really did not know what his twin was talking about. An “I don’t know what to say,” was all he could muster.

  “Just say you will do what I have told you. I want to keep you safe. I have a bad feeling something is coming, something big. I need you stay in control until I figure out what that is. With that being said, do you remember the silver stone that Molly gave you?”

  “Yeah of course, it’s right...” Monson reached for ever-present silver stone around his neck. To his horror, it was not there. “Oh no, what did I do with it?”

  The other Monson started to laugh. “You are dreaming, remember? The stone is in the real world.”

  “Oh yeah.” Monson chuckled in relief. “I knew that. I was just seeing if you were paying attention.”

  “I am sure you were.”

  Monson attempted to look solid in his convictions. The clone started to laugh again.

  “Oh dear,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “You know Monson, you really make me laugh. Thank you. It has been way too long.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “Anyway,” said the other Monson, continuing to wipe his face, “the silver gem that Molly gave you, do not forget to wear it always. You promised Molly, did you not?”

  “Yeah, I did.” Monson paused. “Hey, Monson number two—”

  “Monson number two?” the other Monson interrupted.

  “Well yeah, you haven’t given me a name so I went with what worked. Question for you: You and Brian have an awful lot in common. You don’t know each other, do you?”

  “Brian? As in your butler, Brian? I know of him, why do you ask?”

  Monson eyed his counterpart, looking for any signs of recognition. “Because Brian is observant to the point of psychic. You seem to know an awful lot about me as well. Are you sure you don’t know each other?”

  The other Monson sat in quiet reflection while the real Monson searched for any sign that he knew Brian. The silence seemed to drag on. Monson finally spoke. “There’s a whole lot that you not telling me, isn’t there?”

  The other Monson’s gaze again turned out towards the huge river as he breathed deeply, holding each breath for several seconds. The real Monson sat quietly, waiting.

  “You know, when I was young….” The twin’s eyes glazed over. “I used to play by a river just like this. It is funny that this world would take on this appearance. It makes me smile. This state of life, I suppose you can call it that, is something new for me and I do not quite know how to react to it. All I can say to you is, thank you.”

  “This state of life?” A furrow appeared between Monson’s eyebrows. “You make it sound like you’re dead.”

  Before the other Monson could answer, there was a huge explosion of sound that sent the peaceful world into turmoil. Birds took off as an unidentified object came thrashing through the forest. Startled, Monson motioned to his counterpart and readied himself to fight.

  But there was no need. Monson should have caught the hint when his counterpart remained quite calm, if distinctly annoyed, as he watched an individual emerge from the trees. Without even realizing how, Monson instantly recognized him.

  The owner of the cold voice stared at Monson.

  Monson felt the strange rush of the familiar as he watched the wild one, his thick black hair hanging long and tousled over a dirty white robe that was ripped in several places. He grinned maliciously, a sadistic credo manifesting itself in every crinkle of his skin. Silver eyes that were both cold and calculating bore down on Monson, suffocating him under their immense pressure. Monson found it hard to breathe.

  The man stalked towards the pair of Monsons and spoke as he neared them.

  “How entertaining, I didn’t miss him.” He squared up to Monson, staring with unblinking eyes. In an unexpected turn, his hand shot out as if he wanted to shake Monson’s.

  “This is a gesture for greeting in your world, is it not?” The man proffered his hand more poignantly. “I’m—”

  “Not yet!” The other Monson ran over, interposing himself between Monson and the wild-looking man. “You know it is not time for that. He does not yet have the experience to handle it.”

  The wild-looking man grew angry. “What would you know about it? You have an abrupt spell of consciousness and all of a sudden, you think you can order me around. I, who have always been here.”

  The other Monson gave him a cold look. “And look what happened to him under your care. If he dies, you die also. Do not be a fool.”

  “Better he die than remain weak.”

  “Back down. He is not ready and you know it! Allowing him access in this state is just idiotic. The marks are still in place and I am still here. He has to come to you. You know this. ”

  “I warned you, intruder,” said the wild-looking man in a loud voice. He drew himself into an en garde stance that closely resembled Casey’s fist-based fighting stance.

  “I thought you might act this way. Therefore, I invited some help. He should be arriving about now….”

  What happened next was very strange. It was a sensation that Monson did not ent
irely know how to describe. It felt like the rushing of the wind but it was as if he was feeling it inside of him instead of on his skin.

  Monson’s clone gestured towards the river. “Speak of the devil.”

  A second man now stood on the riverbank radiating pure, raw power.

  His physical appearance was incredibly like that of the wild one. He had the same penetrating silver eyes, the same hard jaw and nose. He even wore the same style of robe, but that is where the similarities stopped. His overall countenance was for lack of a better work -- perfect, with a bearing like that of a mountain, calm and established. Light rained down on his most striking feature, his hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail that hung past his shoulder. It was completely silver, just like his eyes, and shimmered as if each of the strands were made from molten metal. Before long he was standing near the others.

  “Enough of this, Keeper. Hearken unto the guide or we all shall surely perish. Such happenings are unprecedented in our world and we have naught of the skills to deal with them.”

  The wild one ignored his silver-haired twin. Monson saw a sudden, blinding flash of light and felt an immense pressure, which caused him to fall to his knees just like he did when Casey was fighting the MIB so many months ago.

  Sharp gestures coupled with inaudible words played preamble to a beam of lighting-like energy. The wild one turned a hateful eye towards the regal silver-haired one, who spoke. “His skills have not all been lost. The inner aquifer of knowledge may yet flow, but only if given time.”

  The wild one’s look of hatred intensified.

  “So what shall it be?” asked the regal one.

  The wild one finally relented. “I will concede this once, but only if you eject the intruder.”

  The silver-haired man spoke to both Monson’s counterpart and the wild one. “Listen well, my brethren, as I shall not repeat myself. This is no time to be fighting amongst ourselves. Time remains of the essence and our topics are vast. This simple venture is wrought with danger, as my awakening, coupled with the markings, could destroy us all. Simple explanation shall be given and restraint used, else he make a mistake and become the harbinger of disaster.”