The House of Grey- Volume 4 (38 page)

His grandfather
had known
about magic. About
Monson
’
s
magic!  He had taught him
the key to it. Why
,
d
amn it,
w
hy
could
he
not
remember?

The blocking symbols rallied
,
attempting to take back
what
had
already
been
given
up
. The pain burned
,
but the fire of Monson’s heart resisted
the symbols,
resisted until the pain dull
ed
and
finally
died away.

He heard distant voices
, faint echoes that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously.
Someone was calling his name.

“Master Grey!” Monson
dimly
heard
a voice he recognized as
Marie
’
s.
H
e suddenly felt two surprisingly strong hands touch his face
and
opened his eyes to see Marie leaning over him.

“Are you al
l
right?” she
asked softly, cradling
his head in her arms
.

“Yeah
,
” said Monson through watery eyes
. The burning, blocking symbols melted from his vision.
“I think I just remembered something important
.
”

“
Quite the understatement
,
Mr. Grey
. It seems we all have something to share.
” Grayson came from behind them
.
“
C
atch your breath
,
then you go first
.
”

Monson took
several
deep breath
s, relaxing
as
the
pain subsided
.
“Grayson
,
how much does your organization really know about Scripting?”

Grayson gave Monson a
look of comprehension
and did not miss a beat
.
“Quite a bit
;
though like I said
,
none of us can current
ly
do it. We know that the process involves special runes, like the one on
G
randfather
’
s
journal. ”

“Can you show me
?
” Monson
pointed
to a patch
of
dirt not far from where he was sitting. “Can you
write
them
out for me?’ 

“I can do better than that
.
C
ome here
,
” said Grayson as he gestured at the same dirt clearing
.

Monson made to get up but
Marie stopped him.

“I
a
m not sure you should stand yet
,
Master Grey
.
”
She
cradled him protectively.

“I’m
OK,
Marie
,
thank you
,
” said Monson though he let her
continue to
hold him
.
“
W
ell
,
Grayson
,
what do we got
?
”

Grayson
was
rifling through
a stack of paper placed neatly in his lap. Others peeked out from a bag on the side of his chair.
A
fter a moment
,
he pulled out three or four sheets
from the stack
and handed them to Monson
.

“
What are these
?
”  Monson took the
papers
from Grayson
.

Grayson pointed at the various runes
.
“Various scripts that we believe represent
certain
natural phenomena
.
”

“Natural phenomena? You mean like gravity?”

“Yes, but I haven’t seen something that complex or
at
least
, not
that I can decipher
.
T
hose in your hands, we think, are the signs for water, lighting and fire. If you look at the drawings on page 980 of the journal
,
you
’
ll see why we came to that conclusion.”

“Fire, water and lighting
,
” said Monson
,
more to himself th
a
n to the others. He looked at each of the different symbols
,
trying to take in
every
line and contour.  He closed his eyes and tried to match the symbols
on the paper
to the shapes he had seen in his memory. It was no good. He
sighed
. This seemed way too simple. Could these writings really have magical power? And if so, what was it about these runes that made them so special? Then there was the problem that he
had
already performed magic and could not remember using signs of any sort. The magic seem
ed to
just come out of him and adjust to the way he was feeling
, but that didn’t seem to be right. He just didn’t know.
There
were
too many unknowns
,
too many missing variables
. He wasn’t sure what to do. The murky marshes of his messed up memories weren’t helping either.

Grayson cut
in.
“
W
hat are you seeing that we aren’t?”

“I think I remembered something from my past
,
” answered Monson
.
“
S
omething that doesn’t really make sense
.
”

“How so
?
” Marie asked in her quiet
,
calm voice
.

“I heard his voice
,
” said Monson
without
bothering to explain who “he” was. “I think he was trying to teach me
about magic
, and I think...I think these runes are the key
.
”

“Scripting
,
Grey
;
if he was teaching magic in connection with these runes then he was teaching you Scripting
!
” Grayson
’
s
voice splashed over the clearing with excitement.

“I don’t know
,
it seems a little to
o
convenient
.
”

Grayson shook his head vigorous
ly.
“Before you convince yourself otherwise
,
take a look at this.”

Marie pulled
out
a
n
expensive-looking digital
video camera seemingly from nowhere and presented it to Grayson
,
who in turn showed it to Monson.

“This is what happened right before you
hit
the ground screaming.”

Grayson opened the small LCD screen,
pressed play,
and handed it over to Monson who took it hesitantly.
He
watched himself on the screen
.
He was not very engaging. He was just standing in the middle of the same clearing
,
eyes closed
,
waiting.

“I don’t understand why you
’
re showing me this
,
” said Monson after watching himself
for
some time. “What does this have to do with
—
”

H
is thought
was
interrupted when
the
screen caught his eye. A faint, but thoroughly distinct outline of color was starting to appear on his hands, head and forearms. Monson’s eyes flashed away from the camera screen to inspect his
actual
limbs. He saw nothing. He refocused on the screen to see himself fall to the ground and the strange color puls
ing
in and out.

“Look at the lines of the color
,
” said Grayson quietly
.
“
T
hey aren’t as random as they might appear
.
”

Monson watched the screen with even greater concentration as the light from his skin
intensified,
which forced him to
squint,
leaving annoying imprinted shadow
s on his corneas
. He continued to watch for a moment more until—

Monson Grey gasped
,
his eyes widening.
He
whipped towards Grayson for confirmation. Grayson merely
nodded
his head
,
aware
that Monson understood. The supposedly random scar
s
from the
b
ridge incident last
May
were
not random at all
.
They
were
r
une
s…
magic
r
une
s
.

Markings, memory, powers and paths, a
B
eing of
Seven
B
loods sent to save the world
s.
Monson
tried
not to wretch.

“What does it mean?” Marie
asked.

“What does it mean?” Monson grappled with the only logical conclusion. “It means that someone performed magic
…
on
me
…
and that
these
scar
s, these runes, were placed on me at the time of the attack….
”

“
W
hich means that the terrorist attack
and the destruction of the bridge,
” interrupted Grayson
,
“
m
ay not have been directed at the bridge but
instead
at…
.
”

Monson
’
s
expression
soured
.
“
A
t me.
That means…
that I had
something
to do with the explosion...and
..
.
and
…oh no…no…all those people…what have I done?
”

With that simple statement
,
Monson Grey
fell to
his knees and wept. 

***

It took some time for Monson to calm down
.
The deaths of so many people
; the thought hung over his head like a blackened, murderous halo
. The thought of it made his stomach turn
and the taste of bile in his mouth
drove him to the brink of
in
sanity.

What could he do? What relief was there to be had? Was
he
truly the harbinger of disaster? Was
it
better that he never
get
his memory back and his power under control? He did not know and it
was tearing
him apart to think of it.

Anguished
,
scared
and confused
,
he did not know how he should continue.
His
grandfather had once lived as
a
recluse
;
maybe it was time to pick that up
himself
. He
c
ould leave it all. Leave his friends, the only family he currently knew
, and
go somewhere where
all others were out of his destructive reach
. A lonely existence
,
yes, but
a
just
sentence
for someone like
him.