Hello!

okay, first off- I AM SO SORRY. I had no intention of staying off fanfiction for such a long time but I've been so busy! between waking up early every day to train for the triathlon and Weapon tryouts for marching season, plus summer reading and the working hours I've been trying to get in for a Bright Futures thing for my school, I've been whupped. But yeah. A friend of mine took me to sweet swirls on a whim and now my tummy is sticking out far and I feel incredibly fat. (Hahah) and then my brain got to me and was like "go write your flippin' story,Andie!"

and here I am now.

this chapter is short, but i tried to crank it out to get farther along the story. a mention of Robert now, HOORAY!

whoops-spoilers

I do not own this series. carry on


Chapter five

SOPHIE'S POV

"Um, Commander Richter?" I ask, stepping forward. "I found something that may help…" I hold out my hand, the crumpled Illuminati paper in the center of my palm. The bulky man takes the paper from me and unfolds it, smoothing out the edges. I see his lips form the word Illuminati and he goes pale. With no warning, he lunges forward and grabs my arm roughly, demanding, "Where did you find this!" "O-outside Father's doorway!" I stammer, and wince. His grip hurts! Silas growls, deep in his throat, and I give him a startled glance. But the noise reminds Commander Richter of something, and he lets go off my arm with an abashed look. "Sorry" he mutters, and I nod. "It's okay," I whisper. Formalities complete, he bends over the paper and begins to mutter to himself. "Outside the door?" he checks with me, and I affirm. "Oui." The commander straightens without another word. Turning to face us, he looks each of us dead in the eye. "Father Patrick… we know who sent the video to us." He says, and I feel dread in my stomach. "But I don't understand." I say, and look at Silas, who's standing by the Commander. "Who are the Illuminati? Why strike against the Church?" Silas, however, won't meet my eyes. "Sophie…" he says quietly. "Remember Opus Dei?" My hands begin to quake at the thought. The organization that had sent Silas to slaughter my grandfather for an unknown reason still brings shivers when I think about them. Mute, I nod. He looks down at me, crimson eyes meeting brown, and one pale finger touches my shoulder, a quiet apology. "Now imagine Opus Dei a thousand times worse." My eyes must be as big as dinner plates. Gasping, I look around the room wildly. Richter looks solemn, Father Patrick looks stoic, Silas looks grave, and I'm on the verge of hyperventilating. Oh my God they're dead. I realize. We have no hope of saving the preferiti. They're going to die and we can't stop it! Tears begin to form in my eyes, and I stare at the floor to cover them. The phone rings with a short bring-bring, and Commander Richter spins to answer it. He speaks in hushed tones, but when he hangs up, he looks a bit less solemn. "Professor Robert Langdon is on his way here." He says. My head lifts.

Professor Langdon?