Disclaimer: Don't own 39 Clues or any of its characters.

*=*=*Chapter 1*=*=*

Cuzco, Peru

*=*=*

There are times when being a kid was probably about the suckiest thing that could ever happen to you. To Dan Cahill, today was just another example of that.

They had landed in Peru only two short days ago after a rough 37-hour flight from Indonesia, although, to be fair, it hadn't been a continuous 37 hours. Due to a serious lack of funding, Nellie had been forced to book their plane tickets with a layover in just about every city in the Americas in order to save on costs. Dan had eaten enough airplane food to last him the rest of his natural life.

"This doesn't look good," he heard Amy say, and followed her gaze to the ticket booth behind him.

At the moment, their au pair was currently yelling at the person behind the desk, stabbing an enraged finger into the glass that separated the two of them. Neither Dan nor Amy spoke a word of Spanish, but they both concluded that that was probably not the international symbol for 'thank you very much for the train passes.'

"I told you no one would believe that you're seventeen," he grumbled to her accusingly, turning his back on the entire scene.

She frowned at him, "Me? You're the one who looks like an eight-year-old."

That was why being a kid just didn't pay off. Apparently you couldn't get onto a Peruvian train unless you were accompanied by a legal guardian or you were over sixteen and could sign a waiver. And in Dan and Amy's case, neither of those were true.

They'd discovered this yesterday when Nellie had tried to buy them tickets onto the Incan Trail Rail. The clerk had staunchly refused them passage unless they could prove the children's age. She had been red-faced by the end, arguing that she was as good as family to them and that they were being denied a basic human right (though what that right actually was, Amy didn't even know). The conversation had ended when the man had threatened to call the police and their pseudo-guardian was forced to back off.

Today, there was a different clerk and Nellie was trying it again, without much more success, it seemed. She had finished with him and was stomping back over to where Amy and Dan sat waiting for her. Judging from the look on her face, she wasn't bearing any good news.

"They didn't believe you?" Amy asked.

"Oh no, he believed you were old enough," she huffed angrily tossing her purse onto the bench they were sitting on, "I had to offer him a bribe, but he would have given it to us."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's nine hundred dollars!" Nellie cried throwing her hands in the air in frustration, "For one pass! That's almost three thousand dollars for all of us!"

"What?! But—"

"I couldn't even afford one, let alone three!" she was ranting now, "That's criminal! Who do they think they are?"

"Maybe there's another rail company…" Amy suggested trying to see a way around the problem.

"Not a cheaper one," she shook her head vehemently, "They've got to make it as difficult as possible, don't they! And for what? A bunch of old ruins? There are plenty around here that we don't have to pay three thousand dollars to go see."

"But none except that Pikachu one have our next clue," Dan replied, equally annoyed that, once again, money constraints were getting in the way of their progress.

"It's Machu Picchu," Amy corrected with a cringe.

"Whatever," he said waving it off, "We still have to get there."

"The guidebook says that a lot of people walk the Inca Trail and that doesn't cost anything," She continued, glancing between her brother and Nellie trying to gauge their reactions.

The au pair made a doubtful face and Dan groaned at her, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Sure, and while we spend weeks doing that, the Cobras or the Holts or Irina will have cleaned the place out and moved onto the next clue."

Nellie seemed to agree with him, "I can't exactly see those two prissy kids hoofing it all the way up there."

"I don't think they'll get very far," Amy answered with a knowing smile, "They may know they need to go to the Lost City, but they're missing something important…"

As she spoke, she began to rifle around in her knapsack for something. At last, her fingers brushed granite and she pulled what she sought from the bag, holding it up to remind them of their distinct advantage.

In her palm sat a granite bowl rimmed at the top in gold. A thin spike rose out of the very centre of the basin and came to a sharp point. Dan had mistaken it for a jelly mould when they had first found it back in Jakarta, though what it actually was, neither Amy nor Nellie knew. But a lot of their clues were like that in this race; they made no sense now, but given the right prompt, they were easy to unravel.

"Oh yeah," Dan said, his eyes sparking to life once more, "P.A. I forgot about that."

Amy nodded and turned over the small bowl, spike down. There was a strange piece of metal welded into the bottom that bore the inscription:

'For P.A.,

For knowledge and direction are owed to the youth.

And all may be found beneath the Lost City.''

*=*=*

Jakarta, Indonesia

One week earlier…

*=*=*

Jakarta was a beautiful city that seemed to have been built in the middle of a rainforest. It might have been preferable to the concrete jungles back in America, but then again, you didn't have to worry about wild animals dropping into your sunroof from the hanging branches above the roads. On second thought, that would be pretty cool.

If it wasn't for the oppressive heat, he might have been able to entertain that idea and watch for falling monkeys. But it was summer in the city and the humidity made it feel like he was breathing through a wet towel. It made him contemplate why he was even here.

"I don't see what was so great about his paintings. They weren't that good."

They taxied down the main causeway and into the heart of the city where, supposedly, their next clue laid in the home of some rich American.

"Yes, well, you're not here to play art critic. You're here to look for a clue." Amy reminded him.

"And what do we do exactly? Knock on the door and ask 'Oh, can we look at your priceless Affandi to see if there's a hidden message for us?'" he asked.

It was unlikely to say the least. Affandi was probably the most famous artist in Indonesia and while they had learned, from a brief run-in with Alistair Oh, that he actually hadn't been a Cahill by blood, he had been inducted as an honorary member by a family that had lived in Jakarta more than a hundred years ago and had sponsored his artwork.

The painting that they were concerning themselves with (as per the vague instructions on a hidden plaque in his former art school) was his self-portrait, which was more difficult than originally thought.

Because Affandi's favourite subject matter seemed to be himself.

"This is the only one that makes sense though," As Amy had pointed out, "It was early in his career around the time that he met with the Cahills. They probably commissioned it too."

"Well, let's hurry it up, I'm dying here." Nellie complained as she fanned herself from the front seat of the cab.

The taxi rolled up outside the front door of a gated house. It was painted white, but had green vines crawling up all sides that nearly touched the roof. Outside the house, however, the three found something of interest.

"Wow…"

"Huh. You know this crest of yours has a habit of showing up in strange places," Nellie commented to the two of them.

"That's not our crest." Dan said staring at it somewhat deflatedly, "It's the Lucian's."

"So… the art collector is a Cahill too?" Amy concluded with a frown of confusion, "But not the one that sponsored Affandi. Then who is it?"

Dan was already pushing the ringer on the intercom that connected with the house, deciding that it was now vital that he investigate their air conditioning. Lucian or no, he didn't want to be boiled out of his skin.

"Dan!" Amy hissed at him furiously, but it was already done.

"Hello?" a female voice prompted them, "Who is it?"

"Hi," he said launching into it with his usual frank tone, "You don't know us, but me and my sister here are Cahills. We're on a quest right now and it's really important that we look at the Affandi that you bought."

There was silence on the other end. For a disparaging second, Dan feared that she'd hung up on them, but the same female voice responded, although sounding a little shaken.

"What branch?"

"We don't exactly know," he explained, realizing that this sounded pretty lame, even to his own ears, "Our parents died before they could tell us."

"Are you…?" there was a sigh of indecision on the other end, "Never mind. Come in then."

There was a loud, metallic click from the gate before it swung open on its hinges to grant them passage. Amy was staring at it in disbelief, her gaze eventually sliding to Dan as he shouldered past her and up the garden path. Nellie followed close behind him with Saladin nestled in her arms. He didn't understand why Amy was hesitating at this so much; the Lucians were richer than Croesus and if they couldn't afford central air in this city then no one could.

He reached the front door, which was painted a deep red color and was thrilled to find that it was already open. Pushing inside, he was greeted with a frosty blast of cold air and drew a deep breath.

Yep. It didn't get much better than this. Even their cheap hotel on the outside of the city hadn't had his precious air conditioning to fight against the humidity. Nellie had tried rinsing out a spare t-shirt in their bathtub, but in two days, it had yet to dry out.

"I don't think this is such a good idea," he heard Amy say as she followed the two of them into the foyer of the house.

It was deserted with no sign of the person who had admitted them into the house. But it was very lavishly decorated with beautiful works of art adorning the walls and a red and white marble floor. The dual Lucien snakes were monogrammed in gold into some of the white tiles.

"They're not in this race, obviously," Dan pointed out in defence of his idea, "And we're related. Why wouldn't they help us?"

"Well… Lucians haven't exactly been…friendly to us."

"True enough, my American cousins," a woman's voice interrupted their conversation.

All three heads turned to the right to lay eyes on the speaker. And the AK-47 clutched in her hands. In another life, Dan might have found this to be just about the coolest thing ever; but after months and months of travel, near-death situations and back-stabbing relatives, the situation had sort of lost its novelty. That and he now knew just how serious these relatives of his were when it came to their weapons…

"Whoa! What?"

"Oh come on…" Nellie muttered in disbelief.

"Did you think I was just going to let you walk in here?" she demanded of them, her eyes narrowed in contempt, "I know exactly who you three are."

"Really? You know who Nellie is?" Dan deadpanned, earning twin looks of reproach from his travelling companions.

The woman seemed to consider that as her eyes travelled to their au pair. She was quite young, Dan realized all of a sudden. Maybe eighteen or nineteen at the most with chestnut hair tied back in a braid and sharp grey eyes. Her fair skin was freckled across her face and she wore a pair of glasses atop her snub nose, making her seem even younger than she probably was.

"Just another complication," she answered in an unsympathetic drawl, "Nothing personal, you understand. But I can't live with the three of you coming after me and my family."

"W-Wait!" Amy cut in, then, realizing that she'd drawn attention to herself, blushed a furious shade of pink, "We… we just wanted to look at a-a picture! We don't…"

"You're Hope Cahill's children!" the woman snapped, the gun rising on her hip as she swung it towards Amy, "Why else would you be here except for revenge?"

"Why would be want revenge on you?" Dan cut in in bewilderment, "We don't even know you."

"Don't play dumb," she growled looking between the two of them suspiciously.

Amy and Dan exchanged confused looks with each other. Other than being a Lucian and not having had excellent experiences with their lot, what grudge did they have towards this complete stranger?

"You really don't…" she seemed to understand, the angry look falling from her face to be replaced with a thinly-veiled pity, "Your parents. You have no idea, do you?"

"What?" Dan frowned, "What do you know about our parents?"

The woman was silent, her gaze resting on Amy with a sad gleam in her eyes. The gun lowered to her side and it almost looked like her shoulders had slumped. With a sigh, she pushed her bangs from her forehead.

"It isn't my place to tell you," she said, still sounding somewhat distrustful, "But that doesn't mean I can't do something to help you. We're… family after all."

The way she'd tripped over the word family, it sounded like she was struggling with that very idea. It was oddly relieving, Dan found. He'd been contemplating the same thing since the race started. From what he had seen, families shared gossip over pie and barbeque at reunions in Connecticut—they didn't shoot each other with dart guns or set off bombs intending to kill one another.

"You mean, you'll let us see the guy's painting?" Nellie broke the tense and sad mood.

"Oh, of course," she seemed to remember herself with a nod, "I'm Wendy Bingham. A Lucian, as you can see."

"Nice to meet you," Amy managed with a forced smile. Dan could almost hear what his sister was thinking; this girl knew something about their parents. Something dark and sad that would cause the two of them to want revenge. Did she know something about their deaths?

Wendy had turned and was gesturing the three of them to follow her deeper into the house. The place was pretty extravagant with glittering chandeliers and stunning artwork in gilded frames adorning the walls, but that was becoming typical of these old-family Cahills.

But the room that she led them into seemed a stark contrast from the rest of the house. After punching a code into a pin pad, a steel-enforced door slid to the side to reveal a small enclosed space that wasn't even decorated. The walls were white-washed concrete with shelves of books lined so high that the topmost books touched the ceiling.

"Here's the Affandi," she gestured to the far wall as the three travellers stepped inside, "He painted it for my mother. She was a Janus herself and had a yen for this expressionist stuff."

Amy was frowning now as she stared at the painting, "I thought you said you were a Lucian?"

"My father was one," Wendy explained with a wry smile, "Branches of our family don't usually find love in other branches, but Lucians are the exception there. It's a strange phenomenon, but I think my dad put it best; there's nothing more alluring than a worthy adversary."

The three were silent, neither Dan nor Nellie daring to look at Amy who had blushed even brighter than before and had dropped her gaze to her shoes. It made Dan feel a sickening hatred in the pit of his stomach towards the British jerk. So that was why he'd toyed with his sister—because he'd gotten some disgusting thrill out of fighting with the two of them.

"Twisted, but whatever works," Wendy pronounced, watching Amy with curiosity, "You all right there?"

She nodded mutely, biting her lip, "Th-the painting though, that's the Affandi?"

"Yeah," she said gesturing to it with a wave of her hand, "He's an icon here in Jakarta."

"What is it?" Dan asked making a face at it and receiving a jab from Nellie for his mouth.

"Self portrait," she explained with an affectionate laugh, "I know, I don't get it either. I take after my dad, I guess. Not really artistic at all."

It was a whorl of peach color that, if you squinted at it sideways, might have resembled a human face, but any defining detail— like a nose or eyes—looked ghoulish and distorted. There was green and red mixed in around the background and wisps of yellow in places for hair.

"There's a small 'm' in the middle, isn't there? Is that the clue? " He asked, pointing a finger.

"That's his nose," Nellie explained, "And it's actually pretty good. I think it captures a certain self-loathing and yet acceptance of the past—see the scars— that the artist had embraced and found beautiful."

Dan lifted an eyebrow at her. There were times that he wondered if Nellie really was from this planet at all, because he didn't see any of that.

"Or he just spilled paint on a canvas and tried to save it." He muttered, "Why is this a clue?"

"Because he didn't sign his name on it," Amy said taking a step towards it, eyes wide in delight as she pointed to the bottom right corner.

"What?" Wendy asked, stepping up to join her, "No, there it is. He did sign it."

"His name doesn't start with 'H.'" She said outlining it with her finger without touching it, "And that looks like a 'B' doesn't it?"

"I've never noticed it." The girl said sounding breathless, "All these years, he didn't even sign his own name. Why?"

"Maybe it's not his portrait."

"Well, H.B.—that's my father." Wendy replied, "I mean, it's hard to tell. It doesn't really look like anybody."

"What could that mean?"

Dan, who had grown somewhat bored with the painting discussion, was examining the bookshelves that lined the room. It wasn't the books themselves that interested him. The bookend that he was examining was a little cool-looking. A bowl of rock with a spike in the middle. It was sitting on a pink marble base, which did make it look less interesting, but—

"Dan! Don't touch that!" Amy yelled at him disapprovingly.

His hand slipped though and the bowl fell to the ground with a crash. Dan stepped back, raising his hands in the air and staring down at the broken marble on the cement floor. He chanced a guilty look over at Amy and Wendy to find them staring at him in horror.

"Oops."

"I-I'm so sorry, he's just really clumsy. We'll pay for it, I—"

"Hey, what's this?" Dan asked, picking up the stone basin, which luckily hadn't broken. Examining the underside of the bowl, he came upon a strange inscription.

"I didn't even know that was there," Wendy said as she knelt next to him to have a look. Dan passed it over to the girl as she ran her fingers over the writing with a look of awe on her face, "This belonged to my grandfather. I think he brought it back from Peru."

"Peru? Do you think…?"

"We're going to South America!" Nellie said with a bright grin and an arm pump, "Finally! I'll be able to understand the language!"

Wendy was eyeing the three of them as though she thought they were all crazy, "Let me get this straight: You're going to fly all the way to Peru because that's where this bowl that you broke is from?"

"Yeah. Pretty much," Dan said with a casual shrug.

She looked as though she didn't quite want to believe what they were telling her. But it was the truth; outlandish and unbelievable as it was. Their path these days seemed to be dictated by the smallest of hints, this one included. Finally, her eyes travelled back to the bowl in her palm and she stared at it despairingly.

"I don't suppose that you're hunting down the 39 clues, are you?" she asked, her voice suddenly very hollow.

"How did you know that?" Amy asked, suddenly sounding alarmed. Dan watched her take a retreating step backwards.

Wendy rose to her feet, a guilty look passing over her features, "You're not the first ones to stop by looking for something. I'm sorry, if I'd known, I wouldn't have given them a thing."

Dan's mouth had gone dry and all it seemed that he could do was stare at the girl. They were still behind? After all this? They'd somehow lost their lead.

"Who was it and what did you give them?" Nellie asked in a forced voice, though Dan could see the too-tight grip she held on Saladin. Evidently, he wasn't the only one that was frustrated.

"A boy and a girl," she answered with a sigh, "Two Lucians. You probably have seen them if you're competing against them. I gave them this tiny piece of metal with a hole in it. Half of it was painted red, though I don't know what it was."

Dan hadn't thought his heart could sink any lower than it had, but this was just more proof of how wrong he was. The Kabras had their clue. Or at least half of it. And they were probably already headed to Peru on a private jet.

"Did it say anything on it? Like, I don't know, 'Go drown yourself'?" Dan asked with a hopeful plea.

She chuckled at that, "No, unfortunately, but it did mention the Lost City as well. It said something creepy like 'under marrow and bone of the newly forgotten.' Really vague stuff."

He sighed and turned back to his silent sister and au pair, "So… we have to go find a Lost City. Great. If it's so lost, then how can anyone find it?"

"Now that I can help you with," Wendy cut in, drawing everyone's eyes to her, "My grandfather was Hiram Bingham III. He was archaeologist who studied in Peru and found a whole bunch of ruins there."

"That narrows it down, I suppose." Amy conceded.

"Yes, but the most famous thing he discovered was Machu Picchu: the Lost City of the Incas." She said with an excited grin, "And I'll bet that's where you're headed."

A/N: A word about Hiram Bingham. He actually existed and did discover Machu Picchu. His granddaughter is alive today and currently lives in Indonesia, although for the purposes of this story, her name has been altered. I just found that writing dialogue for a real, live person was a little weird, so let's just assume that 'Wendy' is her made-up sister or cousin.

Please review!