The House of Grey- Volume 2 (2 page)

“
That was amazing,” said Monson, standing up and addressing Cyann. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

The dark-haired girl surveyed Monson for a moment, lingering on his face as if she were trying to take in the details. Something in her eyes changed as she opened her mouth to speak. Monson had almost forgotten himself; he was a freak, after all. This was the reaction he should expect from people, especially beautiful girls.

Wait…that wasn’t it.

Monson somehow knew what she was going to say, and it had nothing to do with his appearance.

“
Yes, I am,” Monson cut her off with a knowing look. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Cyann regarded Monson for a moment, an indiscernible look on her face.  

“
Sorry…what are you talking about?”

Her question surprised Monson, leaving him speechless for a moment. It also gave him the chance to notice how many people were watching their little exchange.

“
You were going to ask me if I was the new
Horum Vir
, weren't you?” asked Monson.

“
No. Actually, I already figured that out,” she said. Her voice was steady, almost cold. “I was just going to ask you to get off of my glove. It's very expensive.”

Monson glanced down and sure enough, his foot was on her glove.

“
Sorry about that,” Monson cursed inside his head. Why did he have to go red?

“
It’s OK.” She picked up the glove and dusted it off. Everyone in the crowd continued to watch intently, relishing the awkward silence.

“
Well, this experience has been moderately embarrassing,” said Casey, getting slowly to his feet. “Don’t get comfortable though.” His eyes narrowed at Cyann. “You and I are definitely going to have a rematch.”

Cyann gave him slight nod. “I look forward to it.” And without another word, she turned and walked away.

“
Later gators,” said Indigo as she ran after the older girl.

Casey gestured to Artorius and Monson, indicating that he wanted them to follow him. They walked slowly away from the now-dispersing crowd.

“
I’ve never seen anything like that.” Artorius appeared in awe. “When was the last time you lost like that?”

Casey shook his head. “Unbelievable…Cyann Harrison. Wait, Arthur— isn’t your
girlfriend
named Harrison? ”

Artorius looked thoughtfully at him. “Yeah, I think so, and don’t call me Arthur.”

 “
I’m positive that’s the name that—Indigo, wasn’t it?—gave to me earlier,” added Monson.

“
Sisters,” said Casey conclusively. “They have to be sisters.”

“
It would make sense,” agreed Monson. He thought back to the girl, her countenance, and her moves. “She sure was something, wasn’t she? I’ve never seen anything like that. Like a whirlwind; it was almost scary.”

“
She’s good. I have to admit at least that,” Casey grudgingly acknowledged. “Totally intense. Like she was really fighting for her life. I wonder why.”   

Monson wondered the same thing. Something about that girl intrigued him. He would have to watch out for this Ms. Harrison, that much was sure.
Things at Coren just got a whole lot more interesting
, Monson thought.

The rest of gym class passed uneventfully, even if he did get detention for being late. Able had no mercy at all.

That first day of classes ended with the chime of the bell. The three boys retreated to their rooms for homework and a bit of downtime since none of the clubs or sports teams had begun meeting yet; then they briefly reunited for dinner later that evening. Monson turned in early, feeling exhausted. He slept dreamlessly that night.

The next day Casey’s injury took a turn for the worse. By midafternoon, his shoulder was black, purple and blue, and very sensitive to the touch. Just moving caused him a great deal of pain.  Exacerbating the whole ordeal was the fact that news of his trouncing spread like the plague; by mid-morning, everyone had heard. This in combination with his injury put Casey in a very foul mood.  

Artorius spent most of the day looking for Indigo, who was conspicuously absent. Unable to find her, he went from hopeful optimist to absolute defeatist, grating on Monson’s nerves the entire time. The big guy’s search wasn’t totally wasted, however; after a bit of digging, Artorius did verify that Cyann and Indigo Harrison were sisters, though he was the only one who really cared.  Irritated to no end, the group returned to Monson’s pad after another long day, and were now trying to help Casey get over his foul mood while he tended his wounds from his encounter with Cyann — wounds that were far worse than they initially appeared. Monson held a mirror as Casey delicately applied Tiger Balm to his shoulder and neck.  Artorius, however, just sat looking incredibly forlorn.

“
I can’t believe this,” grumbled Casey, rubbing the ointment on his thoroughly bruised shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve been knocked like that since I told my uncle Dathan his new wife had a butt that should be marked ‘Wide Load.’”

“
Well, that’s just dumb,” said Monson. He laughed as he absentmindedly fingered the silver stone clasped around his neck. “Why’d you do that?  I’m socially retarded and even I know
that
is just asking for trouble.”

“
Had to be done,” shrugged Casey. He grinned deviously. “When she wore hip-huggers, it was like looking at a crescent moon.”

 
Monson burst out laughing, and though Casey joined in, Artorius merely offered an incredibly pitiful smile from the armchair next to the window.

“
Come on Arthur,” said Casey, guessing the reason for his silence. “We do live in the same building. You’ll see that chickadee again, I promise.”

Artorius just sighed and murmured, “Don’t call me Arthur.”

 
It was difficult not to feel a little sorry for Artorius, even if he was being melodramatic.

“
So what’s the plan?” asked Casey, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. He looked both amused and in pain.

“
Well,” said Monson, not really sure what Casey wanted to hear, “I suppose that we should get ready for dinner and —” Monson stopped short as he looked at Casey’s face and guessed what Casey was thinking. “Or we can just try to figure out something to eat here. That works, too.”

“
Yeah.” Casey looked a little flushed. “I think that would be good.”

Monson smiled at Casey in a very patronizing sort of way before starting to laugh again. Casey threw a couch pillow at him. Monson grabbed a second pillow and was about to lay into him when a commotion outside the apartment interrupted him. They stopped, Casey looking very relieved, and listened to what sounded like someone trying to get in.

Monson, realizing what the noise was, stood and jogged over to the door.

He opened it and stepped aside.

“
Hey Brian.”  

“
Ah, Master Grey,” said Brian, giving Monson a slight bow. “Perfect timing. Would you be so kind?” He gestured to several large brown paper bags in his arms.

“
Oh, of course.” Monson relieved Brian of one of the heavier-looking bags. He placed it on the counter of his kitchenette, and then sat down again.

“
Hey Bri-guy,” said Casey moving towards the wet bar, followed closely by a still-depressed Artorius. Brian turned towards Casey and Artorius with a smile on his face.

“
Ahh, Master Kay, Master Paine, how nice to see you. I hope I find you both well.”

Casey smiled with difficulty.

“
I can’t complain.” He paused, adjusting his shoulder, “At least, not
too
much.”

“
I’m OK,” muttered Artorius. He looked steadily at the ground.

“
You certainly do not appear to be doing well,” said Brian, a knowing look on his face. “Girl problems?”

“
Yeah,” offered Casey, “but not in the way that you'd think.”

“
Yes,” replied Artorius, “in exactly the way that you'd think.”

Brian smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “Well then, shall we start with you, Master Kay?”

“
Why do we have to start with him?” complained Artorius angrily. The other three turned to gaze at him, both shocked and amused by Artorius’ indignation.

“
Well,” he continued, “Casey merely got his butt kicked by a girl. I have a
real
problem.”  

“
Dude!” said Casey, popping Artorius on the arm. “Not cool! And I don’t know what you’re on about.  ‘Serious problem’; give me a break. You did just meet the girl and she lives in the same building, Arthur…THE SAME BUILDING!”

“
It’s meant to be,” harrumphed Artorius, crossing his arms. “Besides, I don’t know what
you’re
so worked up about. It’s not like you haven’t ever lost a fencing match.” He paused. “And don’t call me Arthur.”

“
Perhaps I can help,” Brian interjected before either Artorius or Casey could continue. They both stopped abruptly. Monson laughed to himself.  Brian had a certain way of capturing people’s attention. “Very well, are you three ready to listen?”

“
Hey, don’t toss me into this,” said Monson. “I’m just here for the ride.”

Artorius and Casey both glared at him. He gazed back wide-eyed, as if to ask, “What I’d say?”

The three boys shifted their attention to Brian as he zeroed in on Casey. “Right, so it seems that you found yourself in a fencing match and lost. Am I correct?”

Casey nodded his head in affirmation.

“
Well then, I suppose I am at a loss as to what the problem is.”  Brain’s tone was light and friendly; he was obviously trying to placate Casey. “You have fenced before, have you not? You’re bound to lose some matches. That is merely part of the game. Why would that trouble you?”

“
It’s not that I lost,” replied Casey, his eyes slightly distant. “It’s how
badly
I lost. I couldn’t land a single blow. It’s like the girl was in my head planning my next move for me. I even started to adjust my style and she knew exactly when to counter me—right before I could get into stride. I’ve fenced competitively since I was a kid and studied the mechanics of fencing and fighting all my life, and I have never seen anything like it. It seemed almost inhuman, like she was reading my mind.”  

Adjusted his style?
thought Monson, looking down at his hands. That could only mean one thing—the red light.  
That has to be what Casey was referring to
.
Does the use of that, what had Casey called it…chakra…constitute a separate style of fighting? Even when using a weapon
? Monson paused as he considered that notion. What would have happened if Casey
had
used a chakra-based attack? Monson didn’t want to think about it.   

It was a good thing that Casey was hurt. If he hadn’t been, he might just have caused a brawl in the middle of the kitchen. Because after his thoroughly honest description of the match, and to his total indignation, Brain started to laugh. It was not vindictive nor did it have any hint of malicious intent; it appeared to be nothing more than amusement.

“
Please calm down,” said Brian, still chuckling. “If you do not, I will refuse to tell you what happened and reveal the reason you lost.”

Casey, who was now on his feet, sat back down on the barstool but continued glaring at Brian, who just smiled. Artorius finally started to laugh, but with him, it was to be expected.

“
Master Kay,” said Brian, with an air of explaining something very abstract to someone very obtuse. “Do you mind if I wager a guess as to whom you were fighting?”

That got his attention.

“
Long dark hair, beautiful eyes, very short movements, very smooth, does not smile.”

All three boys look as dazed as if Brian had just broadsided them with a bus.  Casey spoke first.

“
How on earth did you know who…?”

“
Never mind,” said Brian. “The young lady in question, Cyann Harrison, is one of the best fencers I have ever had the pleasure of watching.  Master fencers from Japan to Europe in every style possible have traveled to see for themselves the girl’s skill. Do not feel bad, Cassius. That girl is in an entirely different league.”

“
Oh, that makes me feel loads better,” said Casey sarcastically. “What about her style? Do you know who taught her and how she became so good?”

“
Sadly, that is information I do not possess,” said Brian, scratching his chin. “Truth be told, I never considered inquiring further about the matter.”

Casey looked bothered by that response, but his questions weren’t finished. “While we’re on the subject, why is she using a
bokken
instead of a
shinai
? And what about the lack of referee?”

Brian laughed again. The boys did not see what was so funny.  

“
That has caused some controversy among the staff. How amusing that you noticed it.”

“
What's so amusing about not having a referee?” inquired Monson, confused.

“
Please do not misunderstand. The lack of a referee is not the humorous part.  The humor comes from the naivety of youth. The combatants fight knowing they could get hurt. Cyann avoids retaining the services of a judge, because she feels that rules are too restricting, that combat should flow freely, that skill will determine the winner—not rules.”

Monson was still confused. “But what’s funny about that?”

“
The funny part is this: Cyann strikes a deal with the boys who fight her. If they can best her, she agrees to accompany them as they attempt to court her.”

All three boys shouted, “What?”

Brian shrugged. “At least, that is what I’m told. Sadly enough, the poor girl remains dateless.”