I DO NOT OWN THE ROBERT LANGDON SERIES. I also apologise if the characters seem a little (or a lot) OC. I will try to keep them as much as they were like in the book as possible. Also, I apologise for the short chapter. the next one should be longer, I promise! I hope you enjoy! Rate, Reveiw, leave a comment if you'd like! constructive critisism welcome. all that said, ON TO THE STORY!
Chapter one
SOPHIE'S POV
The house was cold when I woke up. It's cold, and silent, and, when I finally manage to creep barefooted into the kitchen, I find that it's empty. The AC is running at 67 degrees, and given that I originate from a warmer climate, it's no wonder I'm freezing. A paper flutters in the blowing air, it's taped to our stainless steel fridge. My name is written on it in slanted handwriting, almost completely disregarding the pale blue guidelines already on the paper.
Good morning, Sophie.
Silas and I are at the Vatican, he decided to come with me today. You're welcome to come as well, seeing as it's the first day of summer, but please phone one of us first, so we'll know you're coming. The chores are done, have a good first day of break! We'll be home around 3:30.
-Patrick
That's right, it's the first day of summer. Three glorious months off from school, just for me to relax and spend some time with my family. Speaking of which…
I sneak a glance at the clock over the stove. It's 8:30, and Father Patrick said I could go to the Vatican today, which probably means he has next to nothing to do on his schedule. That's a surprise, I think to myself as I spread some peanut butter on some toast. With his job as Camerlengo for the Pope, (which, as much as I understand it, is kind of like being a personal secretary for the Pope) he rarely gets off time when he's in the office. But the fact that Silas went and I'm invited to go means he has next to nothing to do today. I rise, and toss my paper plate and napkin in the trash can underneath the sink. Gulping the last of my coffee, I place the now empty mug advertising the flying spaghetti monster creating the world "with one touch of his noodle-y appendage." Breakfast done, I sprint back upstairs for a shower, and wiggle into jeans and a nice-ish shirt with some Converse. Dirty blonde hair is wrangled back into a braid and a small amount of makeup is applied. (hey, when it's the Vatican, a girl wants to look kind of nice.) I reach up a hand and touch the gold locket that hangs at the base of my throat. It holds a picture of my father, mother, and brother, who were killed in a car crash when I was four.
Downstairs, the grandfather clock bongs 9:30. Hearing the chimes, I grab my phone and rush out the door, already dialing Silas.