a black one and eat them together. It was just like the rest of his life — the normal version just wasn’t enough anymore.
The truth was that he’d almost stolen the Twizzlers. Ever since he had taken lessons from Lightfinger Larry in safecracking and pocket-picking, Dan had these urges. He wanted to steal something, just for the thrill. He didn’t mind paying, and he didn’t want to hurt the guy who owned the store. But he was just so bored .
Less than two years ago, Dan Cahill had been a regular kid, and his biggest excitement had been seeing how many Slurpees he could down in a five-minute period. But that had all changed at his grandmother Grace’s funeral, when Dan and his older sister, Amy, had learned something that shattered their world.
They were members of the most influential family history had ever known, a family whose members included everyone from Mozart to Annie Oakley. And throughout the Cahills’ storied past, its rival branches had lied, stolen, and even murdered — all to find 39 Clues that were the key to the family’s secret power.
Grace’s funeral had sparked a final chase around the world for the Clues, engineered to bring the feuding branches together. In the end Dan and Amy collected all of the Clues but chose not to use them, leaving their secret locked in Dan’s photographic memory.
Though Grace’s dying wish had been for the hunt to usher in a new era of Cahill cooperation, Dan still couldn’t stop himself from longing for the familiar high of outsmarting the other branches. At the time every moment had been terrifying, but now everything he did seemed dreary and colorless in comparison.
His phone blared out the chorus of Jonah Wizard’s latest hit, “Gangstas Have Feelings, Too.” Dan reached into his pocket, dug past the sticky Twizzler wrappers, and pulled it out. It was Atticus calling again.
“Ninja Assassins Incorporated, Dan Cahill speaking. Who would you like offed today?”
“Hey, Dan,” Atticus answered glumly. Some days Atticus was just as bad as the walking history textbook who claimed to be Dan’s sister, spouting fact after boring fact. But more often lately he was shut down and barely said a word. It almost made Dan long for one of Atticus’s classic “in actuality” rants about Julius Caesar or some other long-dead dude.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m okay. Do you want to come over tomorrow night? My parents are out of town, so I can watch as much History Channel as I want.”
“Dude, if I wanted to be bored, I’d steal Amy’s diary again,” Dan protested.
“They’re showing a special on military vehicles so large that they fell apart under their own weight,” Atticus offered. “And Jake said we could order pizza.”
“I’m in. I’ll get Nellie to drive me.” It’d been a few weeks since he’d seen Atticus, who lived forty miles away in Cambridge. And although he considered the History Channel a form of cruel and unusual punishment, he was excited to see his friend.
It was starting to get dark as Dan said good-bye to Atticus, opened the gate, and started up the hill to Grace’s mansion. He still thought of it that way, even though the house his grandmother had lived in had burned down and then been rebuilt over the last year.
A movement in the woods caught his eye, and he felt his whole body clench. Was it them ? He peered into the dusk, and a field mouse bolted across the driveway. He sighed and tried to pull himself together.
Dan walked more quickly, eyes roving over every shadow. He expected a Vesper to be waiting behind each tree, staring out with murderous eyes. Dan shivered. This was the one thing worse than being bored.
The leaves on the ground rustled in the wind, causing Dan to glance back and forth anxiously.
He broke into a trot, afraid to look behind even as he heard a car on the road. Dan wished he could dismiss his concern as paranoia, but these weren’t made-up monsters or exaggerated fears. The Vespers were
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