Legacy (4 page)

At the center of the parlor, a giant tree towered over piles and piles of gifts in shining red and green wrapping paper, all of which was encircled by what looked like a functioning toy train set. It was as if a city of presents had been built into the side of a jolly green mountain.

Mugs of steaming chocolate, eggnog, and cider were laid out on a table, as well as a feast of meats, cheeses, and candy. Dan noted with approval that there were plenty of red gummies.

“Well, it isn’t for Beatrice,” said Grace, crossing her arms and smiling. Christmases at her mansion had always been elaborate. After everything Amy and Dan had been through, all the loss, she felt they deserved it. But this year Grace had gone all out.

“This is incredible,” Amy said, shaking her head. “It must have taken weeks to put all this together.”

Grace gave her an odd smile. “I had a feeling we’d want a big Christmas this year. A day to remember.”

When Amy and Dan had arrived at her house in a police car, Grace had ushered them inside quickly. The police said they wanted statements from the two, but Grace insisted they leave her grandchildren to enjoy what was left of their Christmas. In the end, the officers relented, so long as Grace promised to bring them to the station the next day. No one could stand up to Grace when she’d made up her mind.

Dan rushed over to the tree and lifted a box with his name on it, tearing into the wrapping paper.

Amy grabbed a cup of cider and sat down in one of the parlor’s plush leather chairs with a sigh of pleasure.

“My legs are killing me,” she said. “I’m never exercising again.”

“Baseball cards!” Dan shouted. His eyes widened as he pulled one out. “Do you know how much this one is worth?!”

Amy plugged her ears. “If you don’t be quiet, I’m going to tell Grace to take it back.”

Dan answered by turning the train set on. It rattled to life and chugged forward with a pleasant whistle.

“I have my own questions for the two of you about what happened,” said Grace. “You must be exhausted and half-starved, though. Get to work on the chocolate and cider. I have a few calls to make, but when I get back you can unwrap the rest of your presents and tell me everything.”

“Okay,” said Dan, not even looking up from the cards fanned out in his hand.

“Thanks, Grace,” said Amy, sinking even deeper into the chair. “But can I take a shower first? We kind of had to spend a little time in a dumpster today.”

Grace smiled. “I’ve hidden in my fair share of trash cans before. Nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ll bring back some towels.”

Grace stepped from the parlor into a long, dark hallway and closed the door. The warm light of the fire and candles cut off abruptly, leaving only the light of the darkening twilight to guide her. Still, she moved surely down the hallway, stopping in front of a door and turning on a light in the room inside, where a phone was set out on a small side table.

Grace picked it up, and dialed a number from memory.

“Good afternoon. Yes, I know what day it is, so spare me the dramatics. I need you to begin preparations to hire Nellie Gomez right away. Beatrice won’t be a problem. I will insist. Thank you.”

Grace hung up, staring out at nothing for a moment. When she broke into a small coughing fit, Saladin entered the room, watching her from afar.

“So,” Grace said softly, after the coughs subsided. “The Vespers are back.”

Her fingers clenched into tight fists. The pain of her regret was almost physical. Though it agonized her more than they would ever know, there was no choice. The Clue hunt
would go on
, and Dan and Amy would be right in the middle of it. If they only understood what they’d actually accomplished today, escaping the clutches of perhaps the most terrifying organization the world had ever seen. If they only . . .

They’re only
children
!
Grace lifted her fists and pounded them into the side table. Saladin ran from the room in terror.

She exhaled softly. This was their last Christmas together. The last simple, uncomplicated one the two might ever have. She wouldn’t spoil it.

“Just one more call to make,” Grace said. She picked up the receiver, and her hand lingered over the buttons.

Then, slowly and deliberately, she dialed a number she thought she would never have to call. After three rings, a voice answered.

“Hello, Professor Astrid Rosenbloom? My name is Grace Cahill. Professor, it’s imperative that you listen to me with an open mind. The fate of the world may well be at stake.”

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Copyright © 2011 by Scholastic Inc.

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Clifford Riley would like to acknowledge Zachary Clark.

Cover design by Keirsten Geise; Rapid Fire logo design by Charice Silverman

First edition, December 2011

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e-ISBN 978-0-545-45197-0