Somewhere only we know

Chapter NINE :D

Sarah didn't know what to think. The Illuminati must have found out about her. But how? And those pictures were taken yesterday.

She patted James on the back and sighed.

They walked back into the lobby, where Madame Olga , Michaelle, and Raoule waited.

“James, my boy, the Vatican officials want to see you. And if you're still going to find the Illuminati,” she said, looking intently at Michaelle and Sarah, “then you should come along too.”

“Do you want me to escort them?” Raoule suggested.

“Yes please. Now go. I have arranged a flight for you heading to the Leonardo da Vinci airport in Rome. Hotel and accommodations, all on me.”

“YES!” Michaelle cried, “We're going to ROME!”

She seemed to be in the brightest of spirits, although her picture had a huge Illuminate to-do list written on it. The longest, actually.

They drove back to the hotel Buble Meeste, rested a bit, got their stuff, and drove to the airport. Rachel was physically, emotionally, and mentally drained. She slept the whole hour-long flight and found James on her shoulder upon waking up.

Michaelle was wearing a soft pink chiffon silk ruffled blouse with burgundy polka-dots and a short white pencil skirt. She had shiny beige closed-toe pumps on. It was very impractical to wear on an hour flight. But then again... you're going to the Vatican. There's no such thing as over-dressing.

Sarah wore a nice black dress with black lace that accented her curves beautifully. She had sleek black boots on.

When they got out of the plane, Michaelle inhaled and exhaled and cried happily, “Rome is home sweet home!”

“Umm, mi scusi?”

A burly looking man approached them. He had an Italian accent.

“I am Grigor Olvettini. The Vatican Authorities sent me to pick you up. Come. Follow me.”

They followed the well-dressed man up a stariwell. He opened a door on the corner and led them to the airport's roof.

The Holy Chopper's Launch Pad!

There, on the pad, was the Holy Chopper, a pure white helicopter bearing the Vatican Coat of Arms.

“This will take you to the outskirts of Vatican City,” Grigor yelled through the roaring propellers.

“Watch your step!”

James guided Sarah up the helicopter. Finally, when everyone was in, Sarah asked the pilot,

“Why coulddn't why just ride a taxi?”

“Considering the careless drivers here? Please, you're better off,” the pilot answered through the speaker.

“Right?!” Michaelle laughed and high-fived the pilot.

Rome looked so peaceful from up in the sky. No wonder Michaelle liked it so much. It was about 7 am, and the sun has started to rise. The helicopter passed by St. Peter's Square, avoiding to fly over it, like what flyers did in Washington D.C. The sun peeked behind the dome atop St. Peter's and it looked so beautiful, Sarah had to take a picture.

They landed near a large observatory. A taxi man took their luggages and drove it to the Bella Piazza Hotel. Then a car came to pick them up at the base, and drove them to the Vatican Swiss Guard Authorities. When the authorities saw them, however, they began to whisper amongst themselves.

…

“What do you mean we can't get in?!” Michaelle demanded, stomping her foot.

“He can,” they said, pointing at James, “But you can't. No outsiders. No women.”

“That's totally sexist!” Sarah creid.

“GUARDS!”

2 buff Swiss Guards lifted the girls with ease, even though they struggled.

“I demand to see my lawyer!” Michaelle yelled, swinging her legs.

“I'm right here!” exclaimed Sarah.

The Head of the Authorities yelled over the chaos. “Get Valentino, NOW!”

The Swiss Guard saluted, “Si Signore,” and went off.

The guards took the girls to a holding cell in another building.

Sarah was really pissed. The Vatican was so beautiful, but the people were so mean!

Sarah clutched the metal bars and turned to Michaelle, who was just rubbing her temples quietly in thought.

“Look,” she said to a Swiss Guard, “for the past 24 hours or so, I've been dragged from country to country. Can you just please-”

Suddenly the doors opened wide outside the holding cell.

In stepped a very handsome man with light brown hair and a small straight nose. He had soft brown eyes, and a smile so bright and cheery it can help you find the North Star.

“Hi, everyone!”

His voice was kind and warm. He would've sounded like those Hollister So-Cal beach boys if his voice didn't carry a faint Italian accent. A very faint accent.. barely there and can slip unnoticed.

The authorities whispered in his ear.

“Si,” he answered. “Of course.”

He pulled a key from his pocket and let the girls go.

“About damn time!” Sarah said.

“Chyeah, I thought you Vatican peeps were nice,” Michaelle mumbled.

The boy laughed. Then he bowed and said,

“Hi, I'm Valentino Nutella.”

Sarah giggled. Nutella?! Really!??

“Hello!” she said.

“Hey,” Michaelle mumbled.

Valentino stared at Michealle. Then he held her hand and motioned Sarah to follow.

“Come on,” he said. “I will give you a tour of Roma.”

Valentino kept smiling down at Michaelle, who didn't seem to notice.

Sarah felt like a third wheel.

Great, she thought. Just great.