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have much bigger things to worry about. The whole world might.”
    Grace was the matriarch of the Cahills, the most influential family the world had ever known. George Washington, Napoleon, Amelia Earhart — nearly every important figure in the last five hundred years had belonged to one of its five branches. Most of the family members themselves didn’t know the true extent of the Cahill legacy — or the terrible responsibility that came with it. Only Grace had figured out the truth of the 39 Clues that concealed the source of the Cahills’ great power. It had been the defining goal of her life to find each of the Clues, and protect them from her ruthless family.
    And only Grace knew that the Cahills weren’t alone in the search for the Clues. A shadowy organization, the Vespers, lurked somewhere in the dark places of the world, and crept into her thoughts now.
    Grace produced a small key seemingly from nowhere, and moved quickly from the window to the large, carved cherrywood desk at the center of the room. She opened a drawer in the desk, then felt around within it. There was a soft clicking noise as a smaller, hidden compartment descended into place. She unlocked the secret drawer and pulled it open. Splayed within, like an open deck of cards, were the legal documents that would set into motion a deadly serious scavenger hunt for the very Clues she’d worked her whole life to protect. But she was dying, and someone must come forward who was strong enough to stand against the Vespers.
    Now that the moment had finally arrived, however, she found that she was hesitating.
    She picked up the small pen that lay beside the documents. Just a bit of ink to paper, and she would drop her only grandchildren into the fray. Such terrible things from such small doses.
    Grace set the pen down.
    All her life, Grace had been tormented by the worry that someone with selfish or evil aims would find the 39 Clues. But for five hundred years, the Clues had remained safely hidden.
    Saladin approached cautiously, watching Grace tuck the documents back into the secret desk drawer.
    No one had ever been able to locate all the Clues. Soon Grace would be dead, and here she was on Christmas morning, laying plans to protect them from her grave. She wouldn’t place such a heavy burden on the two people she loved most — Amy and Dan Cahill, her grandchildren.
    Grace locked the drawer once more, and moved hurriedly to the phone on the other side of the room. Saladin scampered out of her path as she crossed, now completely oblivious to him.
    The world was safe enough without eccentric old Grace Cahill shaking things up one last time. The Vespers hadn’t been heard from in over a decade, and Grace pushed them firmly out of her mind. It was decided.
    The secrets of the Clues would die with her.

     
    It was Christmas, and Dan Cahill was not in a good mood.
    “Sit down, dweeb,” Amy said. “You’re making me nervous.”
    “What’s taking her so long?” Dan said, pacing back into the cramped living room from the bathroom. “Grace was supposed to call two hours ago!” Dan was dressed in his usual Christmas outfit: a black ninja costume, complete with plastic throwing stars stuffed into his pockets.
    “I can’t imagine why she’d be trying to delay the inevitable,” said Amy, looking back down at the Tchaikovsky biography she had open on her lap. “Maybe it has something to do with the neighbors seeing an eleven-year-old ninja being driven up to her house.”
    “Grace has way weirder people than me coming in and out all the time,” Dan said. “You, on the other hand, are about as boring as it gets. If Grace is worried about anyone cramping her style, I’d point to the gloomy nerd reading about Chucklesky.”
    “Tchai
kov
sky. He composed the score for the ballet
The Nutcracker.
”
    Dan threw his hands up. “How am I supposed to get any better at making you sound like a loser if you just do all the work for me?”
    Amy cocked her arm