(A N)
Hey, ya'll! This is a new story my brain cooked up.
~Enjoy!
Dedicated to the Essence of Cahill girls. I love you guys! :D
Revenge.
It really does makes the world go 'round.
Natalie Kabra smirked, and delicately fingered the neatly wrapped twin boxes in her lap.
It was times like these that made her proud to be a Lucian.
Ian, her older- and far less capable- brother shifted in the squeaky faux leather chair next to her, his handsome brow crinkled in a glare.
"A problem, brother?" Natalie purred innocently, "I seem to remember that it was you who agreed to travel in these atrocious conditions to our dear cousins'."
She glanced about the interior of their rented cab; her lip curled in disgust. The roof was stained, the seats split, stuffing exploding out, and their driver stank of cigarette smoke and cheap beer.
"I blame that silly girl of theirs-" Ian announced bitterly, his expression hard. " - Nanny- or Netty-"
"Nellie."
Ian nodded briskly, "Exactly, Nellie.That American moron promised us an appropriate ride."
His eyes narrowed, and Natalie noticed, with some misgiving, the dark circles surrounding them.
Her brother acted all-powerful, but he was human- well, as human as any Kabra could be.
"You seem tired."
Ian glared straight ahead- his eyes fixed moodily on the cigarette still smoldering languidly in the cab driver's pudgy hand.
"Just a headache," he said curtly.
Natalie rolled her eyes- had her brother forgotten that she had been instructed in the same lie detection courses that he had?
Her highly trained Lucian senses could spot even the tiniest whisper of a falsehood.
His insomnia was probably caused by mooning over that Cahill peasant again, the younger Kabra reasoned with a shudder.
Why, only yesterday she had caught her older brother confessing his crush on Amy Cahill in front of a mirror!
The mere remembrance of the act was appalling.
Perhaps, Natalie thought grimly, as her hands traced the ornate boxes in her lap, it was a good thing that she was being forced to stay with the Cahills at Attleboro after all.
At least one of life's little annoyances will be dealt with soon enough...
The cab lurched, suddenly and violently jerking its passengers about. The archaic carburetor sputtered, and coughed out clouds of exhaust as it rumbled to a trembling idle.
"Everybody out," The taxi driver ordered, blowing alcohol scented smoke unceremoniously into their faces.
Natalie waved a slim hand before her nose in disgust, and quickly exited the vehicle.
"Wait-" The driver shouted when the Kabras had paid, and were halfway up the path leading to Attleboro.
Ian spun around, his hand reaching involuntarily into his pocket, where Natalie knew a dart gun was concealed.
"What is it?" He snapped, annoyance criss-crossing his features.
The taxi driver blew a mouthful of smoke into the air, "You forgot your bags- and also, not to be rude, but I usually get a tip at this point..."
"Oh, please-" Natalie muttered to Ian, allowing ample volume to fill her tones. "-This is ridiculous. Can't I just sue the cab company, and get this over with?"
The cabbie's dull eyes bulged. "Now, wait a minute- erm, Miss- there's no call for that."
He shuffled around to the back of the car, and hurriedly popped the trunk.
Natalie sniffed in disdain, and swept up the brick walkway, followed closely by Ian.
"It astounds me at times that people in America can be such idiots." Ian commented darkly, raising his hand to the ornately designed metal door knocker.
While they waited for admittance, Natalie checked her hair in a compact mirror. She smirked at her reflection, satisfied with the result. She looked gorgeous- as always. At least the terrible ride hadn't ruined her silky black locks.
Muffled thumps and voices came from behind the door, and Natalie felt Ian stiffen beside her.
"Showtime." She whispered.
"Dan!" Amy hissed, grabbing her younger brother's arm before he could finish rigging up a bucket of red paint to the top of a guest bedroom door. "What on earth are you doing?"
"Geez, Amy! You almost made me spill it!" Dan protested, sheepishly.
Amy rolled her eyes, and sighed. What are you thinking, Dan? She mind-scolded. Nellie will murder you if you get paint on her carpet.
Dan wrinkled his nose, But, they are Kabras Amy! He thought back. Aka, sly, rotten, slippery betrayers- they deserve to have their million dollar clothes covered in paint.
A car rumbled to a noisy halt outside the Cahill mansion. Doors slammed, and suddenly someone was rapping briskly on the front door.
"Three guesses who that is." Dan muttered.
Amy eyed the door in wary apprehension. Indecision was etched on her pale features and her slim hands trembled involuntarily as she laced, and unlaced them nervously. She made no move to answer the rapper's call, instead she stood as if frozen in the middle of the carpet.
Dan balled his fist in quiet anger.
He knew all too well the cause of his sister's anxiety. Even after all this time, Ian's cruel betrayal in Korea still haunted her at night.
It was sick, Dan thought, allowing the same horrible person into your home when in the past they had caused you nothing but heartache.
In answer to Dan's millionth protest as to why they had invited the Kabras, of all people, to come stay with them, Amy had calmly answered, 'How would you feel if you were penniless, Dan?' Wouldn't you want family to help you out?'
'What help?' Dan had replied grimly,
'I didn't see any raised hands when our house was destroyed, and our parents murdered.'
The rapping was repeated; louder this time, effectively jolting Dan's mind out of the past.
"Do you want me to answer the door?" he offered solemnly.
His sister jumped slightly, and hastily shook her head, "N-No, it's okay, I'll get it."
She glanced down, suddenly remembering Dan's can. "And get rid of that paint! They think we're weird enough already without you dousing them in stuff."
With that, she crossed the room, and, with a deep breath, opened the door.