Chapter 1

“That’s all you’ve got?” Alistair challenged his brother. Swinging the curtain rod behind himself, Alistair brought it down with a resounding CRACK, just as Alexander raised his makeshift shield. It was only a garbage can lid.

The impact jarred his arm, so he easily switched to his right hand until the numbness stopped. “Really?” Alex panted. “That line is way overused,” he added, blocking another swing from Alistair.

The simulated asphalt ground crunched under their feet as they continued sparring.

Alistair, though the younger of the twins, was slightly taller and more muscular than Alexander. Even so, he moved with natural grace and ease.

Alexander, at 5’11, was 2 inches shorter than Alistair, as well as more slender. He was a born fighter, with quick eyes and lightning reflexes.

“Alright, boys. Your time is up.”

The wide alley in which they were fighting winked out, replaced by the stark white walls and padded floor of the gym. At the door stood Nana, the boys’ wizened old grandmother. She looked as if she’d stepped straight out of a storybook, with her white hair and apron. All she was missing was a tray of steaming cookies.

Alex and Alistair put their improvised weapons away and shook hands. They looked like mirror images of each other, both dressed in the same black pants and T-shirt.

“That’s another time we didn’t finish, eh Allie?” Alex commented.

Alistair chuckled and retorted. “It seems so. You just can’t beat me, Xan, can you?”

Nana interrupted the playful banter. “Now, now boys. Do you want your tea or not? Quit playing around.”

“Yes, Nana,” the twins answered in unison. For 16-year-olds, they sounded remarkably like young children after a scolding.

…

In front of the elevator that led to the normal part of the house, Alex paused to let Nana go ahead. In doing so, he stepped into the path of an invisible laser beam. An alarm sounded, and gas-releasing crystals began raining down.

Instinctively, Nana and the boys held their breath and formed a defense triangle. “7 o’clock!” Alistair warned the others. Scarcely had he finished, when the first bullet went flying over their heads. A shower of metallic “BAMs” followed it.

“It’s only a robot!” Alex said, almost disappointedly. “It can’t aim.” He was right; embedded in the wall was a gun, fired at random intervals by an electronic hand. “This is just an insult,” Alistair griped, still conserving his breath. Picking up a chunk of wall that had broken off, he hurled it with amazing accuracy at the mounted gun. The projectile broke into pieces on impact, but it accomplished Alistair’s intention, knocking the robotic hand off of the trigger. The shooting stopped.

The British family sighed inwardly (it wouldn’t be very smart to sigh literally; they were still in a room full of gas). They once again backed into a defensive position. All knew that this was only an exercise designed by Cornelius. There was bound to be more.

The gas dissipated, but no one let their breath out. The air was almost definitely still tainted, and they could still go about 2 more minutes without air.

Alex cast about for a door. The elevator had been blocked off. Nana spotted it first; whirling midair with a perfect roundhouse kick, she broke down the hidden door.

All three exited the poisoned room, coming face-to-face with Sasha.

She clicked a button on a small black wristwatch. “What happened?” she asked in surprise and concern. “A whole minute? Are you two feeling well?” Sasha raised her hands and felt her sons’ foreheads.

“Sorry, mum,” Alex apologized, bowing his head in shame. His black hair fell forward, revealing the tiny scar on his neck. He looked up, his long, dark eyelashes hovering over bright, clear blue eyes. The effect stirred up Sasha’s motherly instincts, which was exactly Alex’s intention.

“Oh, it’s fine, love. Not as if it happens all the time,” she said, running to embrace Alex. Alistair winked at his brother, emerald eyes sparkling. Besides this difference in eye color, Alex and Alistair had perfectly identical faces. Dark, bold features and long, straight noses were complemented by light, clear complexions.

Both boys had small tattoos located on the inside of their upper arms, signs of the order to which they belonged.

“Sasha, how are they to become the best of our order in you keep coddling them?!” A deep voice boomed the words. Out walked the owner of the voice, who had been concealed in a compartment in the wall.

Cornelius Buthingham was a surprising figure for anyone who had already heard him talk. He was rather small, with a twiggy frame and scraggly, thin hair.

“Well, the best agents were all excellent charmers,” Nana argued as she tried to hide an amused smile.

Cornelius threw his hands up in mock exaggeration. “Really, boys, I would think that you could at least get yourselves out of such a simple predicament! Your grandmother had to save your arses!”

Nana drew herself up indignantly. “Well, you sure are one to talk, Cornelius! You couldn’t even put together a proper test!”

“Seriously--” Alistair began.

“That’s just--” Alex joined him.

“An insult to our dignity and intelligence!” They finished together.

“Did you really think we couldn’t get out of that? We were waiting for the armed force of enemy robots or something,” Alex added.

Sasha cut Cornelius off before he started. “Well, why don’t we continue this over tea, shall we?”