The House of Grey- Volume 5 (23 page)

Monson attempted not to wretch.

A fight had taken place here. That was the only logical conclusion; a fight had broken out and whoever had fought with the commandos did not go down quietly.

A groan caused Monson to stiffen and stop mid-stride.

For a tense minute, the only sound was the heave of his breathing. Then he heard it again.

Definitely a moan, it was clear as a bell in the quiet of the room. Monson was unsure what to do. Should he investigate? Should he leave? He had to protect Cyann, find a safe place for her before he started towards the end.
But if there were others here…

The moaning grew louder. Monson made his decision. One last act, one last act of humanity might save his soul in the afterlife,
assuming
, of course, there was one.

Monson gently lowered Cyann to the floor near the entrance, trying desperately not to jostle her or make any noise. He placed her in the farthest corner from the darkened area, stood up quietly, and slowly unsheathed one of the hand-and-a-half swords while he looped through some of the Combat Spells in his mind.

Nervously, he approached the now-louder moaning coming from the other side of the unmarked door. Monson attempted to open the door swiftly and silently. He poked his head into the shadowy expanse of the room, only to come face to face with the barrel of a gun.

“Damn,” said Monson aloud. “I should have seen that one coming.”

“Yeah you should have, but luckily it’s a mistake that’s not going to kill you, at least not this time.”

Monson let his body relax as the gun lowered. “Damion, what on earth are you doing here?”

Other voices sounded within the dark space; other voices Monson recognized.

“Damion, who is it?”

“It’s Grey,” answered Damion, turning to speak to the others. Monson heard the sound of bare feet slapping against the floor, then the door was flung wide open and he was pulled through it. Indigo Harrison, still in her brown mini-dress, clung to Monson like a long-lost lover. He permitted himself a moment of rest in her arms, allowing her hand to find its way to his thick, dark hair. She kneaded it with her fingers.

“I’m so glad you’re OK,” she said softly. “I assumed the worst…. But where are the others?”

Monson placed his hands on Indigo’s hips, gently pushing her away, and in the same movement turned and fled back into the main room. He reappeared with Cyann in his arms.

Damion and Indigo were back at his side in an instant.

“Cyann?” bellowed Indigo in a panic. “What happened to her, Monson? She’s not—”

“No, she’s fine. She just…just got knocked out in our fight with the commandos.”

Damion touched Cyann’s neck, apparently looking for a pulse. “She seems to be OK. But I don’t see any sort of wound. What happened to her?”

Monson shook his head. “You first. What happened and why are you all down here? What’s with the bodies in the other room? Do you know the situation outside?”

Several people starting talking all at once including, to Monson’s distaste, Boston Timberland and Christy Wayne.
They all stopped with a single look from Damion. “We don’t have a clue what’s going on. We went to the after-hours party near the old dormitory; there’s a clearing maybe a hundred yards off the tree line. Students always head out there after the Spring Solstice. The school allows it; better on campus than somewhere else, I guess. Anyway, things started wrapping up around three in the morning when all hell broke loose. Grey, I’m talking some crazy stuff. Dudes with guns and swords, guys dressed up as Roman Legionnaires; hundreds of them. I’m not sure what’s going on, but whatever it is can’t be good.”

Monson fingered his hand-and-a-half sword. “If you guys were at an after-party out past the old dormitory, then how did you end up here?

“The soldiers underestimated the panic that their appearance would cause. Trying to stem the flow of hundreds of screaming teenagers can’t be easy. I’m actually surprised that they didn’t simply start hurting people. There wasn’t any particular person in charge; I just sort of moved towards The Barracks and the others followed me. Coren has a network of underground passages that the VIPs use sometimes; there are a few emergency entrances and exits around the school, one of which is near the old dormitories. We made our way back here; we’ve been here ever since.”

Monson gestured towards the door. “What about the madness out there? Was that your doing?”

Damion shook his head. “No, that was here when we showed up. Probably dead though, right?”

Monson nodded. “I can’t say for sure; but odds are, yes. Why didn’t you guys check it out yourselves?”

“Up until about fifteen minutes ago there have been commandos in and out of this room taking equipment and other stuff to the halls that head towards the conference rooms. We wanted to see what they were up to but we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Monson got to his feet. “Good. Keep it that way. As a matter of fact, if you can, I would find a safer place to hide until this whole thing blows over.”

“Blows over?” rang a new voice from the shadows behind Damion. “What makes you think it’s just going to blow over?”

Ignace moved out from the shadows, her blue dress looking tattered.

Monson addressed her. “Well, I figure if you off the shepherd the sheep will certainly disperse.”

Damion interjected. “Monson, you know something you aren’t telling us?”

“I do,” said Monson. “But it’s hardly relevant right now. Your job is to protect Cyann and the others. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, but what are you going to do?”

Monson smiled. “Me? I’m going to find the shepherd. I’m going to find the shepherd and then I’m going to kill him.”

They all gaped at him. Monson surprised even himself at how emotionless he sounded. He stood to leave, placing his sword back in its sheath and strapping it on his back. With a final look at the gathered students, he left the room. Damion closed the door after him. Monson took a moment to collect
himself
before proceeding back to the stairs and
the makeshift
command center. He hoped to slip out of there without anyone noticing him. 

“Monson, wait.”

Monson, his hand on the hilt of his sword, was half a second away from drawing it. The slender form of Ignace Ikeco stepped into view, and not a breath too soon. He relaxed his grip on the blade and turned to her.

“Ignace, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you with the others?”

She ignored the question. “Where are you going?”

“I told you I’m going to—”

“Yes, I heard your super-cool comment about killing the shepherd. That’s not what I’m asking. Where are you actually going? Which way? What building?”

Monson bit at his lip sheepishly. “Oh. Yeah. Well, that....”

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to the Coliseum. I’m pretty sure that’s where the guys responsible for all this are hanging out.”

“And you were just going to walk up to the Coliseum and ask for a meeting?”

“Well, no not exactly.” Monson suddenly felt stupid. “I guess I hadn’t gotten that far yet. It doesn’t really matter; he wants to see me.”

“Who wants to see you?”

He hesitated. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter. I just know I have to see him. This needs to be finished and I’m the only one who can do that.”

“Monson, you’re really not making any sense.”

He cracked his neck in frustration. Ignace, as sweet as she was, was wasting his time. He needed to go. He tried to choose his words carefully.

“I know what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it isn’t going to make sense, but it has to be done. Go back with the others. I’ll take care of this.”

Monson turned from her again, starting for the door. He had only made it a few steps before—

“I can get you in.”

Monson stopped for a second time but did not bother facing her. He spoke softly. “What do you mean you can get me in?”

“Just what I said. I can get you into any building on campus, unseen and undetected. You’re going after the shepherd, right?
The guy responsible for all this craziness?
If that’s true, then it’s going to be a lot easier if you can just bypass the sheep.”

Monson sighed expansively. “Ignace, why can’t you just go with the others?” She stared at him silently until Monson sighed again.

“OK, I’ll bite. First, you need to explain to me how we’re going to get into the Coliseum undetected.”

“The VIP tunnels.” Indigo placed her hand on her chest. “My father owns the contracting company that did the tunnel work. I’ve been in the tunnels dozens of times. If you need to go anywhere on this campus, I can get you there.”

Monson rubbed thoughtfully at his face. It would be nice, for once, to get the drop on someone; for once, to have a hidden card to play. As great as that sounded, to have Ignace guide him was to risk her life…for his suicide mission. That wasn’t fair to her. He had disabled Cyann with the intent of keeping her safe. He could not leave Cyann but bring Ignace, could he?

Monson reached his decision. “Is there somewhere you can hide on the way to the Coliseum? I don’t want you involved at all. Do you understand me? I don’t want you to even think about being near the fighting. You will take me there and then retreat and hide.”

Ignace gave him that knowing, ironic smile. The one she reserved just for him. “You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t plan on—”

Footsteps in the stairwell caught both of them off guard. Monson swore. They had remained there too long. The longer they tarried, the greater their chances of being caught. How stupid was he?

Ignace grabbed his hand roughly and quite forcefully pulled him towards an open door on the near side of the room. They took a sharp right and then dashed, as quietly as they could, down an incredibly long hallway. Their restraint was unnecessary; an incredible amount of noise was filling the tall, narrow space, drowning out any other sound. Whatever the commandos were doing above this hall, it was very noisy.

“Quickly,” said Ignace, far louder than she intended. They noiselessly scurried past a commando-filled room, pausing only to glance in before moving on. The quick glimpse completely baffled Monson. The commandos were directing groups of dirt-covered men and women in and out of a tunnel, each of whom were carrying buckets and depositing the dirt in a large multi-screened machine. It appeared to be separating the dirt and pieces of rock by sifting the contents through the layered screens. The scene reminded Monson of a History Channel documentary about early gold miners; they had used a similar contraption. He seriously doubted they were looking for gold now, however.

“What do you think they’re doing?”

Ignace tiptoed onward, glancing back over her shoulder. “Not sure. It’s obvious they’re looking for something, but the devil only knows what.”

Not having an answer to this, Monson continued to jog, remaining close to Ignace and making sure that the sword on his back did not strike any surface. It would be really stupid to get caught for something so silly. They ran for a few minutes longer, Ignace leading Monson down a confusing but defined path. Many left and right turns later, they came to the end of a hall and a—

“Dead end?” Monson glanced at either wall. One appeared to hold a cleverly disguised broom closet—a ridiculous design, yes, but not uncommon at Coren. The other side of the wall was just that, a solid wall. Monson attempted to maintain his composure and not get angry.

“Ignace,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Are you absolutely sure that this is the right way?”

Ignace smiled broadly. “Oh ye of little faith. You’re going to be sorry for doubting me.”

Ignace pushed open the camouflaged door and stepped into a cramped space. “Don’t worry, it will make sense right about…now.”

They heard a heavy, grating sound as infrequently used gears sputtered to life. Monson watched as the bottom panel dropped out from under Ignace and she disappeared into the darkness below.

“Ignace!” Monson called into the blackness, noting the echo. He rubbed at his temples. “You’ve got to be—”

“Are you coming or what?” Ignace’s voice echoed back. “We don’t have all day. Hurry!”

Monson rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and jumped into the hole.

***

“Monson,” said Ignace from somewhere above. “We’re here.”

Monson squinted upward at a manhole-
like covering about two-
dozen feet above him. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the thin slivers of light that funneled their way downward and did a quick double take back along their path.

He looked back at Ignace. “I can’t believe we’re here. This is unbelievable! I so have to tell Casey and Artorius about this.”

Then he qualified his own statement. “Assuming, of course, that I survive the next half-hour.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Ignace placed her hands on the steel rungs of a ladder, preparing to climb. “I can all but guarantee that you’re going to be alive for at least half an hour.”