SUMMARY:
The Cahills have experienced it all and yet they are faced with another challenge.
Five hundred years' worth of lies and deception is what the young generation of Cahills are trying to break. From the cunning Lucian (Ian and Natalie Kabra), the ingenious Ekat (triplets Sinead, Ted and Ned Starling), the athletic Tomas (Hamilton, Madison and Reagan Holt), the creative Janus (cousins Jonah and Phoenix Wizard) up to the serene Madrigals (Amy and Dan Cahill), they must find a way to defeat the Vespers using their own wit and strategies.
Fate seems to think that only by fighting together could they beat all odds. The plan: Be Each Other. Everyone stays at the Cahill mansion, the renovation of the shattered mansion of Grace Cahill. Asked to teach, to train each other, but will it ever be enough?
They are now challenged to a literally deadly game. A human chess. Would they succeed when each one of them was born and still living in lies? Or would they be a house divided against itself that can never stand?
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PROLOGUE
12:03:46 am.
Ian Kabra glared at the blinding light from his laptop, trying to read the newest of the emails he had received. Working twenty-three hours a day isn't helping his mood, nor is it good for his eyesight. Spending all his time saying, "Madame, this exquisite painting endured too much emotion, as you can see from the wonderfully distorted colors. I see, you cannot seem to take your eyes off of it. Well, of course, a true art person would only be interested in unravelling a masterpiece's meaning." And then, they would buy it. Five minutes of sales talk for a painting no person in a clear state of mind would buy. Wonderfully distorted colors? Pah. All there is, is distorted. Horrifically distorted. Ian sighed, knowing his mind-ranting would do him no good. He massaged his temples, his eyes closed in utter exhaustion.
Tomorrow is just another day to charm people. Roughly eight thousand dollars can he make with one painting. That's more than enough. His eyes flew open in shock. More than enough. Where had that come from? Never in his life had he said those words. More than enough. Nothing will ever be enough. There will always be something better from what you have now, and it's your job to get it, acquire it. No matter the costs.
Then, again... Having your credit cards cancelled, having four million dollars, and experiencing days when no one would buy a single painting are new dimensions to the Kabras. Compared to the never-ending billions they had before and the days when it's normal to have a thousand companies calling for you. Work is needed to sustain that. Huh. So that's where the 'more than enough' came from.
Work without cheating is hard... unusual. Lucians are born to use their cunning, to cheat if they must. Which more often than not, they must.
"We won't be like them," he murmured. His sister's words echoed in his ears. When he was giving all their Clues, all their hard-earned Clues, she said, 'We haven't changed enough... But we're trying.'
And we will. Starting now.
There was a soft knock on his door. At this ungodly hour, only one person in this household would have the guts to knock on his bedroom door.
He pressed a button underneath his oak table, not bothering to look up to see who was standing outside his room. "What is it, Natalie?" he whispered, clicking on the third-to-the-last email.
No answer. He looked up, stifling a yawn.
His thirteen-year-old sister stood there, holding her silk pillow. Her designer pajamas accented her flowing dark hair, and striking amber eyes. She has her lips pursed in thought, giving Ian a glimpse of her cuts and bruises from the recent kidnapping the Vespers had concocted. She hasn't quite healed yet. His fingers clenched into a fist, just thinking of the incident.
He stood up, unfolding his towering height. Sixteen and going to six-feet tall. He walked over to his sister and squatted down to her height.
"What is it?" he asked again.
"Can't sleep," she croaked, wincing slightly. Her throat is still dry from the torture of their abduction.
"Natalie," he sighed, knowing full well where this is going, "nobody is going to harm you anymore. Are you still having those nightmares?"
She nodded mutely, not trusting her voice.
"Alright then. Sleep here for the night." He stood up, guiding Natalie to his bed.
With Natalie safe in bed, he resumed in his work.
"You rarely sleep these days," Natalie whispered, barely audible. "That's bad for your health."
Ian flinched slightly. Concern is such a new concept to them, then again the most evident these days.
He turned to look at her, not sure how to respond. "I can manage." They stared at each other for a long moment. Then at last, she surrendered, nodded, and went to sleep.
Un-lucian. Very un-lucian. Ian stared at Natalie's sleeping face. What happened to her? What have they done? He pinched the bridge of his nose as the memories of the day Natalie went home from the hospital blurred his vision.
Natalie gasped in shock. "What are those?" She pointed, wide-eyed with horror, at the shelves of poisons.
Ian looked perplexed. "Natalie, these are your collection of poisons. For your dart gun." Ian picked up a sleek, dart gun of the bedside table. His sister flinched away from it.
"To hurt people?" she breathed.
"Well, technically," Ian shifted his feet awkwardly. What was he supposed to say, Oh no, actually, those are only used to slightly incapacitate people. If they are lucky, they might just live through the pain or something.
He could only imagine how that would go.
So now, those shelves were transferred to Ian's library.
Lucians are not afraid of bloodshed. Lucians are not afraid of poisons. They invented them, for crying out loud! Natalie, good, old Natalie is proof of this. She's not afraid to use her dart gun on anybody, even him. But, now, it's like she's never seen it before. What have they done? Steal her Lucian DNA? Ian snorted at that theory. That's ridiculous, laughable even.
But then, maybe... possible?
His laptop silently vibrated, an indication of yet another email. He breathed deeply before checking it.
AmyCahill; Urgent!
For the first time in days, he felt awake.
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6:05:59 am.
"WHO'S THE BEST AMONG THE REST?" Eisenhower bellowed as his entire family jogged a mile a minute.
"HOLTS, HOLTS, HOLTS, HOLTS!" the rest of his family yelled back.
Reagan Holt fell a step behind. She felt the familiar tightening of her chest. She can't be having this... this difficulty. No Holt has a breathing disorder. Still, she clutched her chest and heaved nervously. She closed her eyes, trying to block away the pain.
Stupid Vespers. Stupid poison. Stupid torture. For the past few days, after the kidnapping she's been having a hard time keeping up with the Holts normal exercises. Sometimes, she could finish the whole routine; most of the time she can't even reach half. How embarrassing.
"Hey, Reags," Hamilton Holt hovered over his sister worriedly. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Yeah... I'm... okay."
Hamilton furrowed his eyebrows. He looked at his family, who stopped a few yards away from them. Mary-Todd Holt advanced towards them. She rubbed Reagan's back, her motherly instincts taking over. "Sir, Dad, Sir!" Hamilton yelled, just like any military officer would.
"Yes, son?" Eisenhower yelled back.
"Permission to rest, sir?"
Eisenhower glanced at his wife. They exchanged meaningful looks. "Permission granted!"
"Here, you are, Reagan," Madison Holt handed a bottle of water to her twin. They sat on the grass, like a family on a picnic. A very early picnic.
"Thanks, Maddy," Reagan gratefully took a huge gulp.
"You know, I think," Hamilton started as he stretched. His phone vibrated. He sighed and glanced at his parents. They were talking, whispering actually. His dad has his serious thinking expression and occasionally it would change to a defiant face. His mom explained something that seemed to madden the both of them.
Hamilton turned to look at his younger sisters, who are gently wrestling each other. Madison knew when to cut her sister some slack because of The Condition. That's exactly what his parents were talking about. Being the eldest, most of the time they ask Hamilton to be there when they talk about the Vespers. Hamilton felt his fingers clutch the grass beneath him. Those jerks. Look what they did to my sister. He gritted his teeth in frustration. If only he knew what they did to her. To reduce her stamina like that. It's almost like those idiot Vespers stole a piece of Tomas DNA from her. If only...
He's sure, the Lucians could help. Maybe they would. The older Kabra seems to change gradually. They actually met at a soccer – uh, football – competition back in England. And they talked... without trying to kill each other. Or maybe, the Starlings would. They're smart beyond compare. Ned and Ted probably are on their way to complete healing. Anybody.
He finally fished his phone out of his pocket. I swear, if this is another text from the idiot Henry...
AmyCahill; Urgent!
He stood up suddenly, his fingers shaking. He opened the message.
xXxxXoOoXxxXx
1:30:01 pm.
"Yo, Phoenix, my man," Jonah Wizard called out to his cousin, "ever think 'bout lunch, dude?" The bright and hot July sun glared at the two Wizards. They were out on the pool, enjoying the peace and quiet.
Phoenix Wizard, sitting beside the pool, strummed a few more chords before turning to face his multi-billionaire, extraordinaire, celebrity cousin. "Yeah, sure."
Jonah smiled his million-dollar smile. "Havin' Jap food today, homie! Sashimi, Maki, the works!"
"You know, you could drop the language when you're with me." Phoenix took a bite of the tuna sashimi. "Shakespeare," he added, after a couple of chews. He knows how much Jonah loves Shakespeare... and how much he hates it when Phoenix rubs it in his nose. Seventeen-year-old Jonah unceremoniously stuck his tongue out at his twelve-year-old cousin.
"Whatevs," Jonah flopped down his summer chair. Which is right beside his autumn chair, then his spring chair, and his winter chair. His eyes wandered over his cousin. Phoenix had his wrist all bandaged up, making it hard for him to play any instrument. But that didn't stop him. Not to mention his absolute ear is slightly fading. Once Jonah played a wrong note on the piano, Phoenix didn't even bat an eye. Normally he would react and scold Jonah. Or check the piano, and tune it.
Jonah cleared his throat. "So, Phoenix," he started.
"Hmm...?" came the reply, obviously torn out of his reverie.
"Are you feeling any better now? You know, from the..."
Phoenix looked sharply up at him. "You know something, don't you? You've noticed?"
Jonah shrugged.
"You think it's gonna be permanent?" Phoenix asked, nervously. He gestured at his ears.
Jonah bluffed his worry with another of his dazzling smiles. "Nah. You still have mad hearing." He winked at him. "How else were you able to tell me how much I stink at singing?"
They laughed, temporarily forgetting the matter at hand.
"Tell you what," Jonah said, after a couple of California Maki. "I'm having some serious recording tomorrow. How about I give you a slot or two for your songs?"
His cousin choked on his orange juice. "Wh- Seriously?"
Jonah nodded. "Sure. What do you think?"
"That'd be great! Like awesome!" Phoenix offered a fist bump, Jonah graciously accepted it.
It's my entire fault anyways, Jonah thought, looking out on the horizon. If I didn't ask him to be there on my concert, he wouldn't have been kidnapped. If only... And now look what happened. He can't seem to forget how Phoenix looked after they saved them. After the kidnapping. Black eyes, bruises, broken wrists seen from afar.
His reverie was brought to a halt by one of his maids, Madeleine. He winced slightly at the name. Madeleine. Madrigal.
"Sir Jonah," she began warily.
"Mads, Mads, Mads," Jonah chided, "what did we say about the 'sir' thing?"
Madeleine flushed bright red. "Oh! Uh... I'm sorry. I meant, Jonah, dude."
Jonah nodded urging her on. Phoenix snickered in the background. "You have a mail alert, dude," Madeleine continued, holding out a sleek, brand new iPad.
Jonah thanked her and glanced at the email.
AmyCahill; Urgent!
"Oh geez," he breathed.
xXxxXoOoXxxXx
5:47:19 pm.
"Ned and Ted Starling!" Sinead called, raising her voice to be heard by anyone in a ten-mile radius. "Get your lazy butts here this instant! Or else..." She purposely left the threat unfinished, leaving everything up to her idiotic brothers' imaginations.
"Now, now, my dear child," Alistair Oh chided gently. He struggled over a couple of boxes which in his old age isn't very suitable. "Have patience with your brothers. They just want to –"
Sinead cut him off, knowing full well where this is going. "Yes, yes. Enjoy the wonderful effects of the medication. Ted can see again. Ned has less frequent and less painful headaches." She helped Alistair with the boxes, getting them out of his hands. "I just don't see why they can't enjoy it while helping us."
Two brown-haired heads popped out of the vans windows. "Hurry up, Sinead...," Ted called, a miniature wireless microphone near his mouth. "It's getting dark already," finished his twin, Ned, an exact replica of Ted's microphone in his hand.
Sinead glared at their smirking faces. Their nerve to make a microphone instead of helping them! On second thought, those are probably cooler than they look like but still... She did her Prayanama to calm all her jittery nerves. Count to ten, she thought to herself. She snapped out of her yogic breathing with a huge, "Ned and Ted Starling! You are so dead!"
Alistair smiled and patted her on the back. "They are right, my dear. We need to leave. Why don't you take the front seat, eh?" Ned and Ted snickered in the background. They made pouty faces behind Sinead's back. "Real mature," Sinead mouthed.
Sinead sighed. She resigned to her seat and strapped the seatbelt in place. Alistair revved the engine to life, and immediately went to programming the built-in GPS. He pressed the AP button, Auto-pilot. Alistair and the Starlings have been busy fixing this van to their liking. Having the mind of an Ekat, they tinkered with a few things and voila! The vehicle can drive you anywhere without you breaking a sweat.
Thinking about it... Sinead glanced at his uncle. He was busy with a bunch of reports from their fellow Ekats. Uncle Alistair didn't do much help with the van. Sinead twirled her ponytail nervously. She had been thinking about this fact ever since the kidnapping was resolved. Alistair has been acting rather... odd. He would space out in front of an experiment, sometimes in the middle of the most crucial part of assembling machinery. The weirdest yet, was when he forgot how to use a screwdriver, or that one time with the radioactive-powered gun, or with that...
She is always left to conclude that this the result of old age. What other reason could there be? Unless, the Vespers had some kind of device that separates DNA, taking only what they need. In their case, the Ekat DNA inside Uncle Alistair. But that's preposterous! It's stupid! It's... It's...
Her eyes watered in frustration. She quickly dabbed the waterworks away. She really should learn how to relax. Maybe double her yoga lessons or something. She rested her head and closed her eyes.
Her phone vibrated inside her jeans' pocket. She sighed, and without opening her eyes fished the phone out of her pocket.
She flipped it open, and read.
AmyCahill; Urgent!
Well, Sinead thought against the sudden adrenaline in her veins, so much for relaxing then.
xXxxXoOoXxxXx