(Author's Note: Extreme short chapter here, guys, sorry! Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter! =P Please read and review! Disclaimer: I do not own the 39 Clues.)
Chapter 10
Queue
"Hey! What are you doing up here?" an uncertain voice called from a couple hundred feet away. The man in black tensed; someone had sense him. He began to run across the hill as fast as his old legs would let him.
"Wait, come back!" the voice called to the man's retreating figure. A strong gloved hand soon gripped the man's shoulder. The man in black halted, recognizing the glove. The glove was off-white and patterned with a sandy pyramid leading up to a bold blue letter 'T'.
"Don't do that! You almost gave me a heart-attack!" the black-clad man exasperated.
"Sorry, but you really shouldn't be up here alone looking so sinisterly over a burning house," the girl with the glove murmured, gazing indifferently at the black smoke flowing from the deceased Grace Cahill's mansion.
"Actually, that wasn't me," the man in black muttered.
"Who, then?" the girl asked.
"I'm afraid it was some of your relatives," he repeated.
"Caller and Hayden adored this place. They wouldn't dare. Besides, we arrived after the house was already ablaze," the girl retorted.
"Not that close. I'm talking about the Holts," he admitted. The girl shrugged.
"Not bad for some of the weaker Tomas," she said.
"And you classify yourself as a strong Tomas?" he dared to ask.
"Naturally," she flashed him a perfect smile.
"Well, I'd say you've grown," the man in black hinted.
"I guess. But I've been in my country, and you've been in yours. I've grown two inches since you saw me last," she raised a dark brow.
He guffawed. "Last time I saw you, you were at my shoulder. It's been four years. You're still about there," he chuckled.
"Shut up," she pursed her lips.
"Arya! Arya?" a new voice called from a ways away.
"I guess that's your queue," the man in black stared into the sunset blankly.
"Yeah. See you, grandfather," the girl, Arya, saluted the old man.
"Until next we meet, Anne," he replied.
Arya hissed. "It's Aryavare! You call me that, not Anne. I'm not your daughter," she snarled. Her grandfather looked hurt.
Aryavare ran off, not in the least apologetic.
"Coming, Call!" She yelled. She didn't look back.
(Author's Note: Hope you liked! Oh, just in case you were wondering, Aryavare is pronounced like Are-ee-a-vare... Don't ask me; my sister made it up, I thought it was cool. Please review!)