The House of Grey Prologue - The Original Modern Fantasy Thriller

The House of Grey Chapter 2 - The Original Modern Fantasy Thriller

CHAPTER TWO

The Dean

 The dean of Coren University was standing placidly in front of the new students. He looked unruffled and regal as he started to speak. His hands were in just the right place, folded neatly in front of him, and he was neither fidgety nor nervous.  It was obvious that he wanted to project a certain image right off the bat. The hall grew quiet as all eyes turned toward the Dean.

"Welcome to Coren University." There was clapping and cheering from the upper decks.  "I am Marcus Dayton, dean and headmaster of Coren University. This University follows in the proud tradition . . . ."

Monson could feel his eyes starting to droop. He pinched his own arm. Not a good idea to fall asleep during orientation.

 "Now that we are all acquainted, I have a few announcements for you." The Dean held up a small piece of paper. "I am very excited to tell you about some of the changes we've instituted this year."

Casey turned toward Monson. "He doesn't look very excited, does he?"  

Monson focused on the Dean's demeanor—haughty yet strained, handsome and the projection of perfect control, yet for some reason Monson thought that he seemed ruffled just below the surface.  His eyes shifted back and forth uneasily, like he was searching for something. He seemed overly tense with no apparent reason.

The sound of his own name refocused his attention on the Dean's long-forgotten speech.  

"Is Mr. Grey here?" The Dean's question sounded hopeful.

Casey prodded him to get up. "That's you, dude." 

Monson rose, slowly, and felt dozens of eyes turn toward him. It was a disconcerting feeling, and caused a strange strain on his disjointed memory.

Bright lights, cameras, people, so many people. Cheers, but what were they cheering for? A stage. Disappointment followed by anger. Soft voices and a warming sensation that blocked everything else. The warmth enveloped him.    

The images rolled over Monson but abruptly changed.

Screams. Blood. Pain. Anger. Hatred. So much hatred. Hatred turned to bloodlust, just to be replaced by darkness.

Monson glared inwardly as he forced himself to catch hold of the thoughts streaming through him. One memory jumped to the front, and he remembered! He remembered the night he won the scholarship to this blasted school. He felt happy at the breakthrough, yet troubled by the change in the memory. The screaming. The blood. The pain and anger. That  — that was new.

 That whole period, actually every period before the incident on Baroty Bridge, was still hazy. The competition had happened right before it. Details still evaded him, but he did not need details, as many thoughts began clicking into place in Monson's mind.

The Knowledge Bowl, the Horum Vir scholarship . . . they were connected. No, not just connected . . . the Horum Vir thing and that competition . . . they were the same thing! It all made sense. He was the winner of the Coren University Horum Vir competition—the most highly coveted academic scholarship in the world of secondary education. He was the new Horum Vir. Monson thought back to the long conversations with Molly concerning his big opportunity to go to a good school. Molly had obviously known about all of it the entire time. No wonder she didn't tell him.

Monson grumbled inwardly. Molly, you are so dead! What else have you been hiding from me?

Brimming with irritation, Monson scanned the less-than-inconspicuous glances of his soon-to-be classmates, when a face jumped out at him.