The House of Grey- Volume 6 (3 page)

“I can’t do it, Molly,” said Monson, knowing full well what that would involve. “I can’t use these people for some sort of sick experiment. I don’t care if I ever get those memories back. I can’t sacrifice them.”

“They’re the reason why you
have
to get your memories back, Monson. There is so much more I wanted to teach you, wanted to show you about this world. I’m not going to be able to do that. The youngest of the Great Races, the Human Race, must have someone like you if it’s going to survive the changes that are coming, and you
must
have your memory back if you’re going to be its protector.”
“Molly. I can’t kill these people; I won’t.”

Molly convulsed, coughing and spitting blood. “You don’t understand, honey. I’m not asking you to use these people; I’m telling you to use
me
.”

If there was a battle raging around him, Monson could no longer hear it.

“Molly—what are you talking about?”

“Me. You are going to use me as the power source for the machine. Between me and the Creation Stones that Baroty managed to gather, you should be able to undo the enchantment on your body.”

Monson started to answer when more trouble found them. More commandos and their Legionnaire companions attacked, thrusting towards Monson and the others. They soon ran into the brick walls that were Casey and Artorius, the latter dropping heaps of soldiers with massive swings of his claymore, while the former rained down spells from just behind him. Casey called out over his shoulder.

“I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but you two need to hurry the freak up.”

A jerk at his neckline Monson’s attention back to Molly. She was pulling on his collar.

“Listen to me, Monson Grey. You have two choices. You either
kill
all these people or use me and whatever stones we can gather. The machine won’t work without a source. Now decide before I take over your mind and decide for you.”
Monson’s eyes popped at her words. “You could do that?”

“Do you really want to find out?”

Monson took a deep, calming breath before coming to the only conclusion he could.

“Molly, I can’t use these people.”

Molly smiled, realizing she had won. Just then, another fit of coughing sent blood flying out of her mouth. “OK then. Honey, go and help your friends.”

Molly let go of his hand and Monson did just that.
“I’ll be right back, OK?” Monson nodded to Marie, indicating she should watch over Molly, and turned to help his friends.

After making short work of the small squad of soldiers, Monson and the others carried Molly over to Baroty’s machine. Horrendous fights had bubbled up all over the place with reinforcements from both sides funneling into the Coliseum. The bulk of the casualties were the rock Legionnaires,
who were nothing more than fodder, probably what Baroty had intended in case the situation got away from him. It appeared that he had been correct in his planning.

Monson, Casey and Artorius, with Marie bringing up the rear, carried Molly to the torture dentist chair, thankful that the fighting had left it untouched. They also were fortunate enough to attract little attention, as Baroty and his boys had their hands full with Brian and Mr. Gatt, both of whom were now wielding Magi Blades. Not that they completely escaped attention; in more than one instance, purely by happenstance, they managed to avoid a face full of fire or ice, or a blade stuck between their ribs. They counted themselves lucky not to have been hurt or if not lucky, then blessed. Most of their attackers were Legionnaires, who were easily taken care of by one of the three boys, and who left behind a small pile of  Creation Stones. Eventually, the small entourage reached the chair.

“Grey,” yelled Casey over the tumult. “You sure this is a good idea, dude?”

Monson reached out to the chair, touching it with only a hint of reluctance. The metal felt cold and smooth, exactly as metal should feel. More confident now, Monson shoved the metal chair along the hard cherry floor, letting it slide to a back corner before he stopped to really examine it. He was not sure what he was expecting to see, but the stupid torture chair had to have an “on” switch.

“Monson,” came Molly’s voice, even weaker than before. “Just take me around to the back.”

“OK, Molly.” Monson returned to her side and helped Casey and Artorius prop her up. Doing their best not to jostle her, the three boys guided Molly to the back of the chair closer to the mechanical arms, the part that seemed to emanate a feeling of foreboding. As they neared, the arms of the chair started
to
vibrate
.

“It’s OK.” Molly gently touched Monson’s arm. “It’s OK. It’s reacting to the Kei I’m releasing. It
will only latch onto me
. Set me down in front of it.”

The boys hesitated. The machine’s wicked looking arms seemed to ripple with anticipation.

“Boys…”

They did as they were told, lowering her to the floor as gently as possible. She was not doing well. Her face was pale and bloodstained and the fading light of green Kei dribbled from her hands. She did not have much time left; it really was coming to an end.

“That’s good, boys, now walk away,” gasped Molly through more coughing. “I don’t want you to see this part.”

The chair’s metal hands started to move, large needles inching their way towards her. None of the boys moved; not a single, solitary inch.

“Now boys, walk away—and whatever you do, don’t look back. Not for anything.”

One by one, Casey , Artorius and finally, Monson pivoted from Molly, each of their faces reflecting their pain. Once again, the tears ran, and not only from Monson’s eyes.

“Arthur, Cassius. Will you take one last request from this jolly ol’ fat lady?”

“You’re not fat, Molly,” shot back Casey without a missed beat. “You’re pleasantly plump. Vast difference.”

Molly laughed. “Thanks, Cassius.”

“No problem,” sniffed Casey.

“Can I make one last request of you both?”

“Sure, Molly,” they both answered.

“Take care of my little Hero; you’re the only family he has now.”

Casey and Artorius
both wiped away tears as they whispered their answers.

“Thanks, Cassius, Arthur. That means so much to me.”

Molly coughed again, weakly this time.

“Monson, honey.”

“Yeah Molly?”

“Do you know that I love you?”

“Yeah Molly; I know that.”

“And what do you say when someone tells you they love you?”

“You tell them you love them back.”
“Good, Monson, good. That’s all I needed to know.”

“Molly, I love you too.”

“I know, Monson honey. I know.” 

A sudden flash of green followed by a scream told them that the conversation was over and Molly was gone.

***

“Get in the chair, Monson. It’s time for you to become
you
again.” Artorius’
strong hand found Monson’s shoulder. “It’s time for you to become who you were meant to be.”

Monson wiped the tears from his eyes. “So you believe this Being of Seven Bloods stuff? That I’m some sort of all-powerful being meant to save the world?”

Artorius
shook his head, grimacing in reluctance. “I don’t know. I seriously don’t know. But I do know that Molly believed in you enough to sacrifice
herself
. You owe it to her to at least try.”

Monson took a deep, shuddering breath and walked towards the chair, positioning himself in front of it. “I know, Arthur. I’m ready.” 

“We’ll cover you,” announced Casey, making his way to Monson’s side. “We won’t let anyone or anything near you. You just do your thing.”

“Thanks, guys.”

Monson closed his eyes, trying to separate the noises of fighting and death from his own fear of the past, present and future. He tried to suppress all his concerns and reservations, knowing that he did not have time to hesitate, that all would be for naught if he did not act. Act– he had to act; now was the time.

That last thought in his head, Monson did just that. He sat upon the chair and almost instantly went limp. Then everything went black.

***

I floated upon a gray cloud in a sea of inky blackness. I felt no wind, smelled no scent, and saw nothing upon the horizon. There was only
me; darkness and me
.

Light…and then there was light.

Floating beyond me, beyond the plane of my own consciousness, were lines of brilliant iridescent light. My cloud and I made our way into the light, thrusting a hand towards the cracked and crumbling darkness.

I made my way to the edge of this place of darkness, reaching ever so longingly for the warmth of the light. But horror overtook me as the blackness became heavy upon my skin, upon my muscles, upon my bones. I could not move, could not speak, could not breathe. I was wedged
in the darkness, destined to perish just short of the light.

And then surprise filled me.

To my overwhelming and joyous surprise, I did not perish before I attained the light, alone in the darkness. I reached for the light…and the light reached back.

Whether the light removed me or perhaps the darkness released me, I do not know. Regardless, I fell fully and completely into the light and there, finally found what I was looking for. I found…myself.

***

Monson opened his eyes to a mysterious river floating serenely along its course. Faintly scented wind warmed his back, pleasing all of his senses as he breathed it in. He allowed his angst to leave with the exhaled air. He looked over the expanse of the forest-covered land, reaching down to touch the quietly flowing water . The tranquility of this world, his inner world, was such a stark contrast to the fighting going outside of him. He felt almost guilty being there and enjoying the serenity.

“If there is anywhere that you should feel peaceful, it is here, in this place.”

Monson continued to play with the water, not bothering to stand or even look up. He knew who was there.

“It has been a while, Monson.”

Monson’s mirror image stepped to the bank of the river as he gazed into the distance. Dawn seemed to want to speak, to say something more than a hello, but he seemed unable to start so Monson did it for him.

“Did you know?”

Dawn did not answer right away, not that Monson expected him to. Monson waited patiently.

“About your grandfather?”

Monson finally looked up, taking in the full glare of the light reflecting off the river.

“Yes and no—did you know about it all? The bridge
…
Grandfather
…
Baroty
…
all of it
?
”

Dawn’s response was terse. “Does it matter?”

Monson’s eyes dropped back to a few inches in front of him. “No…I guess not.”

“So you are decided then?”

Monson again looked up from his crouch. “Do I have a choice?”

Dawn stared back. “You tell me.”

“I’m not sure I can answer that.”

Dawn broke eye contact. “Then I think you have your answer; would you not agree?”

Monson stood and moved to the path that he sensed was right behind him. His Pathway that led to the base of the mystic mountain that loomed in the distance, pressing in on his every sense, his every sinew. At his feet was the start of his pathway, the pathway he did not quite understand, but knew was a part of him. The answer to his plight, to his state of being, was on this very path. The question was: Did he have the courage to walk it?

Monson thought of Molly’s face and knew that, courage or not, he would walk it and say to hell with the consequences.

He pushed one foot in front of the other but, like once before, he felt the magic runes attempt to pull him away from his path. He powered through them, feeling the bonds strain under the force of his stride. His body burned from a blistering, unseen fire, which grew more intense as it followed the lines of his scars. Still he moved on, pushing forward even as the pain hit its peak.

Monson staggered and dropped to one knee, gasping.

He lost his breath, his reason, and his will. Something did not want him to proceed. The efforts of his unknown foe felt borderline desperate, just like Monson’s own unnatural appetite to move forward. He realized that this was it. This was his breaking point; the time when all will is lost and all opportunity for vengeance, understanding or compassion falls by the wayside. This was his limit and his limit was nowhere near enough to accomplish his goal.

“I want my body back,” said Monson aloud. “You belong to me and I’m taking you back.”

Monson stood up, breaking away from the pain that held him bound.