Somewhere only we know

Chapter Eight ^.^

It was 4 am when James got the call.

When he heard Madame Olga sobbing through the other line, he knew it was something horrible.

She told him to bring the rest of the gang to the museum A.S.A.P. She didn't say why, but just said that it can't be discussed over the phone.

The Institution wasn't far. There were only a few people awake, and lights started to ignite the city of Geneva.

When they arrived at the art lobby, Madame Olga was indeed sobbing, her heavy make-up running down her pruny face.

“Oh!” She choked and clung onto James. “My boy, I am so sorry!”

James, confused, held her.

“What's going on?”

Madame Olga let go of him and wiped away her tears. Then she whimpered and passed him a folder.

James opened it, unsure what to think.

It was a photograph of Sarah. The Illuminati. He already knew they did this.

They wrote in red ink-or blood, James couldn't tell- all the things they were going to do to her. Horrible, unspeakable things.

The next was Michaelle's. More awful red writing, almost taking up the whole page.

Then, a picture of himself. There were 8 words etched in blood. Yes, blood, it reeked of it:

WE'LL DO WHAT WE DID TO YOUR COUSIN.

James was horror-struck. He flipped the page and looked behind it.

There, all bruised and abused, was his cousin.

He was tied to a pole, with 2 other Swiss guards, also beaten up.

His cousin's beautiful face was marked with cuts and swells and bruises. His face was contorted in agony, and he looked like he was crying blood. James dropped the folder with all the pictures in it.

He sank to the floor, uneasy and dizzy. He felt like passing out.

Someone knelt down beside him, and he knew it was Sarah.

Her long brown hair tickled his face as they fell on her shoulders, and she was holding him, whispering words of comfort.

“It was delivered here early this morning. Unfortunately, it had no specific address,” Madame Olga croaked. “I don't even know how they got pictures of you.”

her French accented voice was rather soothing.

James felt like he was falling.

Falling and falling, and the only one catching him was Sarah.

Beautiful Sarah.

When he emerged from his heavy mist, he saw Madame Olga on the phone.

“Hello? Yes? This is she. Why, good morning Signore Orazini!”

Madame Olga's face grew tired as her brows knitted together.

“Yes, we are aware. I informed Detective James Leone just now. But wait, Signore, there's more. Young Cedric Leone is not missing. He is... well, he is held captive, sir, by the Illuminati. Yes, the Enlightened Ones. We have photos.”

James walked out of the room with Sarah.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered, with deep sincerity in her voice.

James nodded. Then he said, “It shouldn't be you to apologize. Once I get my hands on those bastards I swear.”

He looked up at the sky, still dark and starry.

They will pay.