SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW ➻ DEMETRI VOLTURI

D I C I O T T O

"Do you know her?" Cecilia asked, holding out the pictures to Demetri. Her eyes didn't wander from the file, but she felt him take the photographs anyway. She leafed through the pages, focusing on the words that weren't written in Russian. The file contained several medical records, as well as addresses all over the world.

She felt the steady bubbling of excitement like she was an officer about to solve a brain-breaking case. It was like reading an ancient book and finally realizing she'd been using the wrong translation for a word, all of it suddenly shifting in place. She tried her best to hide her enthusiasm.

"Yeah," Demetri said. It wasn't the fact that he had answered that caught her attention, but the obvious hint of confusion in his voice. Her eyes snapped up, a muscle in her jaw twitching curiously. "But it shouldn't be possible."

"What is it then?"

"She is supposed to be dead," he said, shaking his head. He held up the pictures against the light, as if he was trying to see if there were any signs of fraud. "I killed her fifteen years ago. I saw her body burn."

Frowning, Cecilia counted back the years. "So, that was in 2008? But the picture is from 2011."

"Just because it is written on it doesn't mean it's true," Demetri countered, handing the pictures back. He held out his hands and silently, she handed over the file.

She observed the way his eyes raked over the pages, his nimble fingers turning from one to the next. He was wearing a concentrated expression, his crimson eyes stuck to the letters and his face set in hard lines. The excitement she'd been feeling earlier started to dwindle and suddenly she felt foolish for acting like they had just been handed a eureka piece. Especially when he started shaking his head and let out a frustrated sigh, she knew something was wrong.

"This is a waste of paper," Demetri said, his voice angry. He smacked against the file, sending it flying through the room. Loose leaflets, receipts and pictures dwindled to the ground like snowflakes falling from the sky. Cecilia watched nervously, her hands folded together in her lap. "I don't know who she thinks she is, messing with the Volturi, but all of these papers are fake."

"What?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in question. "How?"

From the ground, he snatched an old passport and handed it to Cecilia. It showed the same woman again, along with some false information like her name, date of birth and the place she was staying. Looking at it a little longer, she realised it wasn't a passport, but a kind of visa.

"This is supposedly a request to go to the US from 1970," Demetri said, pointing at it. "Which would have been completely normal, except for the fact that it was granted. The USSR allowed little to no emigration and certainly not to the world power they were determined to fight. A request to go to the US should have gotten her hanged as a spy as soon as it came through."

She rose, not making a single sound, and crossed the room to her soulmate. She lay a comforting, but urgent hand on his chest, gaining his attention. Their eyes locked, red clashing with gold. After a moment, he let out a sigh and brushed his hand through his hair in a harsh manner.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to get angry that way."

"I know," she replied, smiling kindly. "What is it?"

"It's just that it feels like Angelokastro all over again," Demetri said. His eyes lingered on Cecilia's face, desperately looking for a sign of comfort. "It's like Aro wants us to fail, for real this time. It wouldn't surprise me if he sent us on a wild goose chase and somehow got this Anya involved."

"Well, then we'd be in big trouble," she said, the smile not falling from her face. She was sure that Aro hadn't sent them on a wild goose chase, but she had to admit that it wasn't very nice of him to not give them any holdfast, except a vague name and a city with almost twelve million people living in it. "But I don't think it's quite how it is. We just have to show him we can figure it out, we always do. We've still got three weeks."

They'd been sent on many more missions after the Markis', most more difficult than the haughty coven had been. They would succeed this time as well, she was sure of it.

"The next full moon is in three days," Demetri said suddenly. One of his hands found the small of her waist, resting on the curve of her hip, the other hand dropped the visa. The expression on his face was serious, resolute. "And I'm seriously starting to doubt whether you should return this favour."

Cecilia smiled, though it was more of a smirk. "I certainly am going to return what she gave us."

"And your definitely not going alone."

She shook her head determinedly. She had no idea what kind of person Anya was, whether she was foolish enough to trust that the papers were real and had handed them over earnestly, or if she had pulled all of it together herself. Cecilia guessed it was the latter option. During their first meeting, she hadn't come across as stupid, far from it, actually.

As soon as she and Demetri locked eyes again, all thoughts about Anya faded to the back of her mind. They would come up with a plan later, but now she was completely intoxicated from the presence of her soulmate. Smiling, she closed the distance between them and pushed her lips against his. Still, even after thirteen years, a bomb of fireworks seemed to explode in her stomach, feeling her body with warmth and a pleasantly numb feeling.

She drew back, happy to see Demetri smile once more. Putting her arms around his neck, she copied his smile. Yeah, they were going to figure it out alright.