A/N: I hope this fanfic gets more viewers or I'll delete this. I'm foreshadowing events, if you haven't noticed. Ah, well, it's time for Jade's point of view.

I do not own anything you've seen or read in real life. That's all!

Chapter 3: The Odd Friendship Has Begun

This is the last straw.

Literally, I thought, throwing the wet, sticky, red bendy-straw inside the waste bin. We just finished cleaning up the living room of the Nears' family where we had the messiest birthday party this year (the Holts' birthdays are gruesome every year, take my word for it). Mike was in the bathroom, obviously changing his suit because of the cake incident, while Gabby and I were sitting on the coach, waiting for my air-headed cousin to show up. And while he's away, it's time for the daily girl-talk.

"Gabby, com—"

"My name is Gabrielle," she said in a slightly harsh tone. I flinched, feeling a bit silly to be scared of a girl who looks so innocent. It's because I remembered that horrible day she showed her true colors . . . I shook my head, pushing the thought to the back of my mind.

Then, a sly smile crawled up my lips."Whatever. Now come on, admit it. You like Mike Cahill and don't deny it!" I said, pointing at her accusingly. As quick as lightning, she clapped her hand over my mouth and placed her index finger to her lips.

"Don't talk so loud, Jade," she whispered, glancing left and right. "He might hear you."

"Aha!" I quietly yelled, taking her hand off of my mouth. "You do like him. Why don't you tell him how you feel?" I coaxed. Then, she gave me a poker face. Seriously, that girl is creepy. She picked up the Inkheart book from the coffee table beside her and slowly flipped through random pages, her dark eyes drifting in the distance and her black hair falling on her shoulders when she took of her ponytail.

"Yes, I do like him. Like him, like him," she mumbled, turning to me with puppy-dog eyes and then back at the pages. "But what if he doesn't like me the way I like him?"

I shook my head in amusement. She's so naïve sometimes, not realizing what's in front of her. She doesn't see how Mike looks at her when she reads or when she chows down a Big Mac with no remaining ketchup in her face or when she gets a tantrum fit. It was nothing but the same expression, fondness.

"Don't be silly. Maybe he feels the same way," I said. If it was possible for daughter of a god, a certain god of great power who knows something about misery, to get even more miserable than she usual was, Gabby Nears is the one to win its gold medal.

"That's what I'm worried about," she cried, burying her head in her hands. "I'm still worried about him and you hanging out with me. Both of you might get h-hurt like the las-st time if I ever lose my temper."

That's when I stayed silent, thinking about that 'last time', making me shiver from that chilling image. After shaking of the bad vibes, I glanced back at my distant cousin, noting her pained expression on her face. From the look on her face, saying that last sentencemust've hurt inside like hundreds of arrows piercing through your skin, and I know because I made a similar face when it happened to me. But that is out of topic.

I patted her back, which (thankfully) added physical pain rather than emotional. "Lighten up! Sheesh, you act like Mike's mom when there's no book to read in her huge library. The most important thing right now is that we're back home, in our world."

"But," she said, staring back at the book again, "I wished I could've stayed, with Chiron, with the campers, even with Leroy and Dylan." We silently giggled, thinking about the two demigods Gabby had a crush on while she was in Camp Half-blood. Again, she is ignorant; she never notices how Mike looks at those two when she turns her back; it looks like the three of them have an all out war, for love. Aphrodite must've have been pleased with the outcome.

Before I could reply to her ridiculous statement, Mike came in the living room with a new, custom-made (typical Kabra)white polo with a Cahill coat of arms embroidered in black on the left side, cotton black pants, and matching loafers. I mentally saved the look on Gabby's face when my cousin arrived. Her cheeks were burning red. I just snorted at Mike's direction, receiving a scowl in return. Why does every girl he meets go lovey-dovey over him? He's not that charming, in my opinion, but he's not half bad as my cousin. At least he doesn't embarrass me like Will Wiz.

"What are you lovely ladies talking about here?" he asked, smiling at Gabby, who was fiddling with the paper in her book; trying to avoid his gaze.

"Oh, nothing really. Girl stuff, that's all," I smirked at him. Though I'm not a child of a Kabra (again, thankfully), I'm a champion of annoying people with my sassy smirk, as my Dad used to call it. I sighed, wondering where he is in that stupid mission he took two months ago.

"Hello? My stupid American git of a cousin, are you in there?"

I blinked, and saw Mike waving his hand at me like crazy idiot. My head wandered off again. I really should stop doing that in front of company. And did the prat just call me a git?

Leaning forward to him, making my cousin stager, I said in my best British accent, "Stop waving your hands like that, you prat. The Yanks outside might mistake you for a mad man."

Then, a legendary Cahill argument commenced, with a peace maker and her mother standing in the sidelines, watching us scream our heads off with insults until it was terminated by the sound of thunder. I got scared for a bit, thinking that lightning will strike the apartment any second. Then, I scratched my head violently in frustration, recalling that I'm not in that weird place anymore.

"Well," Miss Nears established, holding Inkheart gingerly, "I think we had enough excitement for one afternoon, so we better start reading. Don't you think, dearies?"

I looked at Mike, he looked at me, and we turned back our attention to Miss Nears, not noticing we shrugged at the same time. If you first saw Mike and me for the first time, you would think we're siblings, sometimes twins because of our eyes and height. We have nothing in common, if you look at our age, interests and life style in a close inspection. But whenever we need some help, we can always count on each other. Even my Dad said that we remind him of him and Amy back in the Clue hunting days. And from that day on, I was determined to annoy my cousin as my Dad annoyed his sister.

So we sat down, me on the right, Gabby on my left, and Mike on the far left of the sofa. I elbowed Gabby, and she jarred in surprise. She pouted at me but I just winked at her. My jade eyes were gesturing to Mike, who was staring out the window, away from us girls. Gabby stuck her tongue out while blushing furiously.

I smirked to myself. When will she learn . . .

Cool, I'm having a flashback. So where am I?

I saw nothing but pitch black. I heard a soft click and a dim light shimmered in the distance. An old man was laying four-poster bed and standing beside him was a man carryinganinfant and a woman slightly taller than him. I realized it was just my Dad (before he turned into the man in black), me as a year old baby, and Aunt Amy, during Uncle Fiske's deathbed. I was watching them from the distance, like I was a god or something like that. And surprisingly, I still remember what they said.

"—proud of the two of you. Both of you have accomplished things that were impossible for the rest of the branch." Great-great Uncle Fiske coughed in a hoarse tone. And though the mood in the room was very grim, I had to giggle at the sight my younger, terrified self. One glance at Uncle Fiske, and my baby self started to cry.

Was I really scared of my Uncle? He doesn't look bad, except for all the wrinkles, white hair, raspy voice, obsession with the color black . . . Yup, he's definitely scary!

"Dan, why didn't you leave her with Nellie?" Aunt Amy said, wiping her eyes. "She's wasting our time. We only have a few minutes before—" Aunt Amy burst into tears and was comforted by pat from good ol' Dad.

Then, I heard a crash. Dad and Aunt Amy rushed outside to investigate. Uncle Ian and my mother were fighting a cloaked man with some dangerous arsenal in the hallway. The Cahill siblings rushed to battle with their spouses, leaving my younger self beside a coffee-skinned two year old boy. The boy was Mike and he seemed to be scared as I was, from the look on his face and how tight he was chugging the teddy bear.

Then, someone or something grabbed the two children from behind them, and carried them off. Baby-me was crying hysterically. And as I watched, from a bird's eye view, the person escape without hesitation, my body was enveloped by darkness. The last thing I saw was the boy, clawing his way out of the steel grip, dropping his teddy bear in the process.

I opened my eyes and saw my oh-so-perfect cousin, Mike, running off with his throwing knives at his side, just in case if there's trouble. Beside me was a very worried Miss Nears, watching my cousin climb up the fruit store's window to the rooftop of the building. Today must be the day when we're supposed to recruit Gabby.

"Your daughter will be safe with us, Miss Nears," I said, receiving a sniff as a positive reply. I smiled at the widow, feeling confident that retrieve-and-return mission will be completely successful.

I really have to stop jinxing myself.

"Well, we can't wait here all day long for them. Where's your house?" I asked, taking out my GPS phone I got from Dad. "You live in the lines of West 30th street, right?"

She gave me no answer this time, not even a slight movement. I frowned at the thought of her dark past. Dad never told me about the details but he said, and I quote: "She was a very complicated cousin, with problems and powers you cannot imagine, but others in the past can. She was very gifted, indeed as a Janus, but very unstable when power is in arms reach. In the end, she made the right choice."

I had some theories about what her past must be. Was she a double-agent for the Vespers? Did she murder someone for the good of the Cahills? Could she and Jonah Wizard be that mysterious couple back in the day? Who was her daughter's biological father? I wasn't sure really, but I was determined to find out.

"Well," I said uneasily, "let's see your place."

The Nears residence was tiny. Not an exaggeration. And it was unorganized.

As I stepped into the quarters, I tripped and fell face down. I saw that I tripped on a recently used painting canvas, so the lower part of my body was practically covered in paint. And they were original designer shorts from Aunt Natalie for my 12th Birthday. My coffee spilled all over the floor. Perfectly good coffee wasted.

I read in Coraline Nears' files that she's an art teacher for Aaron Academy. Her daughter, Gabrielle, attends to that school because her problems like ADHD and dyslexia and maybe for learning the arts. They are Janus after all.

"Oh, dear," Miss Nears cried, coming in the doorway, "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't get a chance to clean up and—"

Miss Nears tripped, as well. It was a very funny image, to be very honest.

I got to my feet a little while later, after the paint on my shorts dried, which took about 4 to 5 minutes. And as if on cue, Mike burst into the room with a girl about my age, maybe younger. I guessed she was Gabrielle Nears, the young Janus girl we are recruiting. I purposely fell back down to the floor.

"Um, did I miss anything?" she nervously said, helping her mother up. Mike helped me up, and making groaning sounds because I'm not making any effort to stand up. When I could finally stand, Mike pushed me into the coach.

"Dear cousin, you should really lose some weight. It's not good for your figure," he smiled. Every time I get him to pick up after me, he does something unoriginal to me and teases me about it. All I did was give him a glare, and he stay away from my back for an hour or so.

"So," Gabrielle said, looking at me up and down, "this is your cousin. She doesn't look like a delinquent."

"Gabby! Don't say such things. Very rude," her mother chided.

"Mike told me she was a delinquent. And please, Mom, don't call me Gabby in front of them," the girl said, giving a fleeting look at her rescuer.

"I'm a what?" I asked, glaring at my cousin. Mike just whistled innocently before catching my eye. He placed his hand on his chest then pretended to look offended. Then, gasping to add more effect.

"You don't think I told her that ridiculous notion, Jade?"

"Well," I started, strutting up to him and poking his chest, "if the expensive clothing fits!"

He was taken back a bit and then he smiled looking down at his outfit. Under the zip-up hoodie was a custom made polo shirt with a Cahill insignia. "It does fit me at ease, in fact."

I growled and clenched my fists. I was about to punch the lights out of my cousin's pretty little face when I was blocked by the new girl. Miss Nears was nowhere to be found, probably in the other room.

"Hey, fighting is not allowed in this studio! You guys have to help me clean up this mess with me or else," Gabrielle warned, her tone was deadly serious. She was holding up two brooms to each of us. Strangely, we stopped bickering.

In family visits for the past two years, Mike and I always fight about some little disagreement. Not that I'm complaining. I love arguing with Mike; it was my favorite pastime. It generally took 10 Cahills to get me to stop fighting with my cousin or our parents if they're around. How was it possible that a simple girl who has no Cahill training experience could stop a legendary fight like theirs?

Because she's powerful, I answered, listening to my thoughts during that event.

"Alright," Mike said, taking a broom, "I'll help." He turned

"Thank you," Gabrielle said, smiling at him. She turned back to me and offered me the other broom. "What about you? Care to help?"

I raised an eyebrow at her and the broom. "I'll help, if you make me a chocolate sundae," I said sarcastically.

"Okay," she beamed, handing the broom to me and rushing to the next room and slamming the door behind her. "Mom, let's make a chocolate sundaes for the guests!" I heard her yell from the other side.

Mike, who was listening on our conversation while tidying up, snorted. "She's diverse, isn't she?"

"Tell me about it," I said, picking up the canvas from the floor. "Why do we have to clean up again?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "It's because she's making us sundaes, of course."

Then, the girl popped her head inside the room and asked, "Hey, what's your name? Your cousin Mike never told me. And sorry again, Mike, for calling you an assassin. Your image just reminds me of an assassin, no offense. "

"Non-taken," my cousin replied before adding under his breath, "'cause I ironically am related to assassins."

"So, your name?" she asked again.

I ran my fingers through my tousled blonde-pink hair. "Roberts. Jade Roberts."

"James Bond's style," she smirked. "I like it. My mom said that we have to get to know each other first before we get to talk about why you two came here for. Is that okay with you two?"

"Yeah," we simultaneously answered.

Gabrielle giggled. "Are you sure you two are cousins, not siblings?"

"Yes," we both insisted.

"Weird," she concluded, before disappearing into the kitchen.

I looked at my cousin and smiled. "Weird, indeed."

A/N: Review, pretty please!