39 Clues Rapid Fire 2 Ignition

by Clifford, Riley

  Astrid’s mouth dropped open. It was impossible. There must have been some mistake. She checked her name at the top of the card twice more. The invitation was clearly addressed to her. But why?

  The crowd had now fully fallen into a roar of complaints and angry shouting. Apparently, a great majority of the guests had not received a golden invitation card, and the painful truth of being left out was hitting them hard. Amidst the hubbub, Astrid stole a glance at Amy and Dan in front of her. For the first time all afternoon, they were smiling.

  “I assure you,” William raised his voice above the yelling, “the invitations were not done randomly. I apologize to those of you who were excluded. Grace Cahill meant you no disrespect. Of all the members of the Cahill clan, only a few were chosen as the most likely.”

  “Most likely to what?” Dan piped up.

  “To be the beneficiaries of Grace Cahill’s will. Now, if you please, those with invitations will gather in the Great Hall.”

  Beneficiaries?

  McIntyre had said nothing about a will reading. This was not part of the plan.

  The Great Hall was exactly that: great. The room was extremely large and echoed like a Roman amphitheater. Which was appropriate, because rows of armor, swords, and other weapons lined the walls. Some were so large, like the jousting spears, that they reached almost to the ceiling. The colored panes in the tall stained-glass windows, at once vibrant, would shift quickly to darker shades, then back again. Astrid supposed it was an effect of the darkening clouds passing by overhead.

  The chosen family members began filing into the room. Some looked surprised to be there and eagerly took a seat. Others, like a group of triplets, walked around haughtily, as if this sort of thing happened to them every day.

  “I’m so very pleased you could make it, Astrid,” William said, startling her. “And I know Grace would be very happy to see you here.”

  “Thank you, William,” Astrid answered. “But I don’t understand why I’ve been included in all this. Are you sure there hasn’t been some mistake?”

  William smiled. “After this meeting, you and I can talk in private. The legacy Grace gave you is special, and so requires special attention. The following presentation is not for you, but Grace wanted you to see it anyway. Please wait here for me until after everyone has left.”

  “But —” Astrid started to protest before William cut her off.

  “All will be explained,” he said, then turned and walked resolutely up the aisle to the front of the room.

  William seated himself behind a desk to face his audience. Behind him hung what looked like a projection screen, similar to the kind Astrid used in her classes. There were about forty people in the room, and most had taken their seats, eager to learn of their inheritance. Astrid stepped farther back into the corner, not wishing to be seen by any of the family members. William McIntyre swiftly pulled a piece of paper out of a brown leather folder and began to read:

  “ ‘I, Grace Cahill, being of sound mind and body, do hereby divide my entire estate among those who accept the challenge and those who do not.’ ” A call rang out from a man in a purple tracksuit, asking for clarification, but William quieted him. He cleared his throat and continued reading:

  “ ‘You have been chosen as the most likely to succeed in the greatest, most perilous undertaking of all time — a quest of vital importance to the Cahill family and the world at large.’ ” The room erupted into questions, all of them directed at William.

  Yet a few people didn’t seem startled. The Russian-speaking woman was whispering something into the Korean man’s ear. And a well-dressed boy and girl, presumably siblings, exchanged a knowing look. A woman in a black pantsuit stood up and yelled over the crowd.

  “ ‘Perilous undertaking’?” She wore an enormous gold medallion around her neck, and it swung vigorously as she threw her hands up in the air. “What is she talking about, McIntyre?”

  “Cousin Ingrid —” He began to calm her down. Murmurs spread through the crowd in response to the woman’s questions.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please,” William called out. “If you will direct your attention to the screen, perhaps Madame Cahill can explain things better than I.” The room settled into a hush and, as if on cue, the light outside darkened through the stained glass. Grace appeared on the illuminated screen.

  Her beauty was the first thing Astrid saw. Even at nearly eighty, Grace’s mirth and spirit shone through. She was dressed in a black gown and was sitting up in bed with a cat in her lap. Her illness must have kept her bedridden toward the end, but her cheeks were pink and her hair was styled into voluminous white curls.

  “Fellow Cahills,” Grace said. “If you are watching this, it means I am dead, and I have decided to use my alternate will. No doubt you are arguing amongst yourselves and giving poor Mr. McIntyre a hard time about this contest I have instituted.” She smiled into the camera. “You always were a stubborn bunch. For once, close your mouths and listen.”

  The same man in the purple tracksuit protested again, but his wife shushed him before he had time to get a full sentence out. Astrid looked for Amy and Dan. But then Grace continued:

  “I assure you, this contest is no trick. It is deadly serious business. Most of you know you belong to the Cahill family, but many of you may not realize just how important our family is. I tell you the Cahills have had a greater impact on human civilization than any other family in history.”

  Oh, God! This is what Grace was trying to explain to me. Five hundred years of Cahills and . . .

  “My relatives,” Grace continued, “you stand on the brink of our greatest challenge. Each of you has the potential to succeed. Some of you may decide to form a team with other people in this room to pursue the challenge. Some of you may prefer to take up the challenge alone. Most of you, I’m afraid, will decline the challenge and run away with your tails between your legs. Only one team will succeed, and each of you must sacrifice your share of the inheritance to participate.” Astrid watched Grace hold up a manila envelope sealed with a wax stamp. Grace’s eyes were brilliant and hard as she stared again into the camera.

  “If you accept, you shall be given the first of thirty-nine clues. These clues will lead you to a secret, which, should you find it, will make you the most powerful, influential human beings on the planet. You will realize the destiny of the Cahill family. I now beg you all to listen to Mr. McIntyre. Allow him to explain the rules. Think long and hard before you make your choice.” Grace paused and gave the camera one last long look before she concluded.

  “I’m counting on you all. Good luck, and good-bye.”

  Then the screen went dark.

  Grace’s image stayed in Astrid’s mind for several seconds. Grace was really gone. The storm clouds outside had finally broken, and heavy raindrops pounded against the stained-glass windows of the Great Hall. Astrid tried not to feel alone, but she couldn’t help thinking that this was not how it was supposed to be. Grace promised to help.

  Astrid looked for Amy and Dan first as her eyes adjusted to the light. She found them sitting toward the front of the room on the far side. Amy’s face was wet with tears, and her cheeks glistened in the shifting light of the room. Her brow was furrowed, and Dan put his arm around her slumped shoulders. She kept staring at the screen where Grace’s image had been just moments ago, blinking back tears.

  The Great Hall had once more erupted into shouts, jeers, and angry questions. One after the other, the squabbling group of relatives asked William what it all meant.

  “Now, if I might be able to finish —” he began again.

  “But what’s this about sacrificing our inheritance?” an older woman who bore a slight resemblance to Grace complained. “Where’s the money? It’s just like my sister to come up with some foolishness!”

  “Madam,” William said, “you may certainly decline the challenge. If you do, you will receive what is under your chair.” In a hurried rush, forty people reached beneath their
seats. Astrid gasped as the gentleman in the tracksuit picked up one daughter’s chair and turned it over — with her still clinging to it.

  “What you now hold,” William explained, “is a bank voucher. It shall only be activated if and when you renounce your claim to the challenge. If you so choose, each of you may walk out of this room with one million dollars and never have to think of Grace Cahill or her last wishes again. Or . . . you may choose a clue — a single clue that will be your only inheritance. No money. No property. Just a clue that might lead you to the most important treasure in the world and make you powerful beyond belief —” William paused, and seemed to look directly at Dan Cahill with his cool gray eyes “— or it might kill you. One million dollars or the clue.

  “You have five minutes to decide.”

  Amy Cahill hadn’t looked at her bank voucher since Mr. McIntyre explained the challenge, not even once. The weight of the day, the finality of Grace’s passing, seemed to have fastened her to the seat.

  The momentary joy of being handed a million dollars startled Dan out of his grief. And Amy’s little brother bounced up and down beside her like a kangaroo in a jumping contest. Astrid could only imagine that the siblings would have different ideas about which choice to make. One minute your life is normal — tough, but normal — and the next minute someone comes along offering you a million dollars!

  No doubt, Dan was thinking of all the things he could get with all that money. Atticus, if Astrid had to guess, would invest it so he could buy an ancient sarcophagus. He was an extremely bright child and had been fascinated by mummies since he could walk.

  Across the Great Hall, most people she could see were taking the money and leaving. Some had fainted in their seats, and family members were doing their best to revive them. More still were in complete shock — and barely able to smile — even after they’d counted all the zeros on their checks. Cousin Ingrid took the money early and rushed out, the stomping sound of her heavy black boots echoing across the hall. Eventually, almost everyone left clutching their million-dollar vouchers with both hands.

  Except for a small few. The purple tracksuit family, the preppy triplets, the Russian woman, the man with the diamond cane, Jonah Wizard, and the glamorous brother and sister had stayed to take the challenge. Only Amy and Dan remained undecided. But Dan wasn’t bouncing anymore. He sat closely with Amy, and they were talking.

  The other six teams seemed ready for the challenge — almost as if they had expected it. And each of them looked better suited to take it on. If they weren’t wealthy, they seemed self-assured, or at the very least had a large enough family to make up a team. But Amy and Dan were by themselves, and looked so small in such a grand room as they huddled together to make their decision. Astrid felt pangs of anger rising inside her as she thought of Grace knowingly and willingly putting them through this mission. Dan couldn’t have been much older than Atticus, and Astrid would never think to involve him in something so big and perilous. What was Grace thinking, exposing them to so much danger?

  But just then, Amy and Dan stood up and walked over to the table. Amy said something to William, then picked up his lighter and set the two vouchers on fire.

  They were in.

  After William distributed the first Clue, each team ran off in a different direction. The Russian woman was the first to leave. She folded the Clue into her purse and slinked out the door. Then the preppy triplets hastily agreed on a plan and almost tripped over their chairs on their way out. Jonah Wizard’s father finished typing on his BlackBerry before he followed his son in a hurry. After the rich-looking children strode confidently to the door, the tracksuit family double-timed it out of the Great Hall with their pit bull trailing behind them.

  Once the Great Hall was clear, William McIntyre and Astrid headed for Grace’s office. They could hear footsteps pounding frantically in the floors above them. Somewhere a dog was barking and a man’s voice yelled, “Troops! Fall in line! One, two, three, four. And one, two . . .”

  Astrid and William crossed through the dark, musty-smelling billiards room, and turned into a narrow hall. A round of crashing sounds rang out above them.

  “My God, they’re ransacking the place!” Astrid exclaimed.

  William stopped and looked up, then back at Astrid. “Of course,” he answered, shaking his head. It was strange to hear his voice sound so tired when just a few moments ago Astrid had watched him command a room full of some of the most powerful people in the world. “The clue hunt has begun, and no amount of fine china will stand in its way.”

  Finally, they made their way into Grace’s office. Everything except the green carpet and leather-topped desk was made out of intricately carved wood. Rain slid gently down the panes of a small window. The room smelled sweet and heavy, and Astrid couldn’t help but feel comforted.

  William offered Astrid the seat in front of the desk, and took Grace’s chair for himself. No sooner had she sat down than William was ready to begin.

  He leaned forward intently. “Astrid, what do you know about the Vespers?”

  To hear the name Vesper from someone besides Grace sent a chill down Astrid’s spine. It made them all too real. She took a deep breath and began:

  “When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to tell me stories about a clan of very bad people. An insidious group, almost like ghosts, who moved silently through history wreaking havoc. But there was also a group called the Guardians, who fought the Vespers whenever they could.”

  “Yes, go on,” William encouraged, tilting his head in closer.

  “I forgot most of my grandmother’s stories. And those that I did remember, I took for old war tales. She was a spy in World War II, you see. But then Grace called. She explained to me that she believed the Vespers were still active — in fact, stronger than ever — and that I might be the last living Guardian.”

  William sat back. “That was indeed a difficult day for Grace. She wanted so much for it not to be true,” he said. Astrid shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

  “I, too, was skeptical at first, but the more Grace described the Guardians and their five-hundred-year struggle against the Vespers, the more my grandmother’s legends felt like truth. After our first conversation, I did some research on the Vespers. My findings confirmed their existence — or at least traces of them throughout history.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I called Grace immediately. I had no idea . . . I mean, I never thought . . .”

  Astrid paused to collect herself. William reached across the desk to comfort her.

  “She was getting sicker every day then, but she calmed me down. ‘You’re not alone, Astrid,’ Grace had said. ‘I will help you for as long as I can. And then there will be my family . . .’

  “So I proceeded with my research,” Astrid continued resolutely. “But the more I uncovered, the more I was appalled. I didn’t want to believe it. And after Grace’s death, I even tried to bury the truth inside myself. I didn’t think I could handle it.”

  “But you agreed to come to the funeral when I called,” William said. “Why?”

  “Well —” Astrid hesitated. “Toward the end of Grace’s sickness, I began to feel that I was being followed. And it seemed to get worse after her death. I would be shopping at the grocery store and look over to see a woman staring at me. Or a man sitting on a bench looking at me funny while I walked my dog in the park. And once I . . .” She trailed off, embarrassed at how paranoid she sounded.

  “It’s happening sooner than I expected,” McIntyre murmured.

  “What is?” Astrid’s eyes grew wide as she leaned over the desk.

  William met Astrid’s gaze, concern — or was it fear — written on every feature of his face. “They’re coming for you, Astrid. You’re the only Guardian left. We haven’t seen the kind of activity you’re describing in decades. No. This is a full-out offensive, and they won’t stop at you.”

  Astrid felt like she was going to faint, no, vomit. She was going to throw up. Right t
here in Grace’s office, on the day of her funeral. This couldn’t be happening.

  “So what am I supposed to do?” Astrid snapped. “I didn’t sign up for this. I don’t know the first thing about fighting this, this” — Astrid searched for the words — “this evil.”

  There was a long pause as she caught her breath. “I’m sorry,” Astrid apologized. “This is a lot to take in.”

  “I know, Professor Rosenbloom. I’m sorry to have been so abrupt,” William responded. Astrid began rubbing her temples. She took another deep breath.

  “Please tell me,” she asked in a measured voice, “that the people I saw today are not the other ‘family’ members Grace thought would help me after she was gone.”

  William was silent.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed. “All I see is a family consumed by greed and jealousy. Why on earth would Grace institute a competition, of all things, at a time like this?” Astrid was out of breath and feeling more hopeless with every passing moment.

  “We must trust Madame Cahill,” William began carefully, “to have made the best decision for all of us. I know it’s hard to believe in her choices, but Madame Cahill was one of the cleverest people I have ever known. She had strong faith in her family. Though splintered, I think she hoped the clue hunt would produce a new leader of the Cahills. One to unite them all against the Vespers.”

  “That’s an extraordinary risk!” Astrid interrupted.

  “Yes, it’s true. There is no way of knowing if her plan will succeed, but I learned over the many years I spent working with that great woman, that if she had a plan, then I should follow it.”

  A spark of hope instantly entered Astrid’s thoughts. “William, you said you had a ’legacy’ for me, right? What was it? I always assumed Grace would leave me all her files on the Vespers. That will at least give me something to start with!”

  “Yes. Yes, she did,” William confirmed, then reached down to unlock a desk drawer. He brought out a thin, unmarked file and handed it to Astrid. “This,” he explained, “is all the information Madame Cahill and I compiled on the Vespers before her death.”