The House of Grey- Volume 3 by Collin Earl

unable to control his laughter. Molly smiled coyly at the two and started to chuckle. Casey and Artorius eventually followed suit.
    Monson could barely hear Casey’s voice over the laughter. “Molly, congratulations on being the scariest person I’ve ever met.”
    The laughter died out as a rap on Monson’s door caught their attention.
    “Master Grey, Ms. Pennmentail, your tea is ready.”
    “Excellent, Brian, thank you.” Molly gestured to the boys indicating they should follow. They all walked through the now-open doors. Brian stood at attention, bowing slightly as the group entered the room. Molly grinned broadly and took a seat in one of the large armchairs.
    “Oh, that’s better.” She sunk into the leather seat. “I hate helicopter rides. They are always so noisy.”
    “You came in on a helicopter?” Monson’s voice held a hint of excitement. “That’s so cool.”
    Casey and Artorius both nodded their heads in agreement. Casey spoke, “But why did you come by helicopter?” He scratched at his neck. “For that matter, why did you come in the first place?”
    “What do you mean, Cassius?” Molly sat up a little as Brian handed her a cup and saucer. She demurely sipped her dark grey tea.  “Can’t I come and see my cute client just because I want to?”
    Artorius leveled a beady eye towards Molly “You know, for an attorney you aren’t a very good liar.”
    Silence fell upon the small gathering. Molly gave Artorius a spiteful glare but instantly let it slip as she surveyed the boys. She exhaled in an uncharacteristically desolate way. 
    “I did want to see you, Monson honey.” She gave him a guilty look. “But I also came because I heard a special someone might be visiting in the next few days.”
    The silence stretched and for a moment, the atmosphere felt very serious.  Monson voiced the obvious question.
    “Who’s coming Molly, and why?” He ran a weary hand across his face. “You wouldn’t make a trek here, by helicopter no less, except in some pretty extreme circumstances. What’s going on? Is the FBI finally coming to get me?”
    Molly took another sip of tea and studied him for a moment before answering. “Monson, what’s wrong?”
    He hesitated. Discussing subjects related to events that potentially did not happen was not the brightest of ideas. The Damion Peterson in his dream - that is, if it was a dream and  Damion did actually attack him in the Horum Vir ’s weight room. (There was also the possibility that Monson was simply crazy. He would have to work more with that premise later.) Anyway, Dream Damion said that Molly had taken some extreme measures in an attempt to keep people away. Finding out whether or not that was true would put Monson in a very tough spot. He wanted to know; it would kill two birds with one incredible stone. One, it would verify that at least a part of the encounter with Damion was real. Two, it might address some of his questions about Molly, many of which he was dying to have answered. Despite all that, it was a tricky choice.  He could not ask without inviting questions himself. Everyone would want to know what he was talking about, and it would be impossible to lie. Not with Brian and Molly there. In reality, if he tried to establish the validity of Dream Damion’s information then he might just find himself forced into divulging the full account of that rather distasteful scene, dream or not, and that was definitely not on his to-do list.
    A dream , thought Monson sarcastically, as his memories from the bridge, the information revealed about that fateful day, and the image of his unscarred sadistic self swirled together. So many unanswered questions - so much unknown.  He felt pangs of fear in his gut. He instinctively glanced at his cut and bruised knuckles. He thought of a teary-eyed Cyann as he tried to push it all aside, attempting to zero back in on the conversation. When he did, he found that everyone was staring at