SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW ➻ DEMETRI VOLTURI

V E N T I N O V E

"Evidently there was an inconsistency in his story," Alec explained. "That's what made them see through all of his lies. Obviously, he could have lied again, if that is truly his gift, so the Webers placed him in isolation until we managed to create a way of transportation to Volterra."

Cecilia nodded quietly, mulling over the story in her own head. It was not unusual for her to help along with the interviewing process, especially since every now and then there was a vampire who was able to withstand Alec's and Jane's gifts or just a great liar. In a sense, she could do what Aro did whenever he was combing out people's minds, but in a greater and more complex scale. 

"Imagine that, a member of the Guard with the ability to make anybody believe whatever he's saying," Alec said, sounding smug. 

"Sounds dangerous, in my opinion," Cecilia countered. "He could lie to the Masters and make them believe whatever he wanted. He could make them crown him and take over."

"Of course, that's something you would say," Alec muttered in return. 

Cecilia raised both of her eyebrows, coming to a sudden halt. "Excuse you?" she said, the tone of her voice calm and cold. "Just because you can't handle your fall from grace gracefully doesn't mean that I will as well. If there was someone with such a gift that he would take my place I would give it away willingly if it serves the Volturi better."

Not waiting for a reply, Cecilia continued her way to the dungeons in silence, not even her shoes making a sound as she walked over the ancient stones of the hallway. She didn't have to look over her shoulder to know that Alec was following her, and suddenly she couldn't help but wonder if her becoming the right hand of the Volturi really still bothered him after thirteen years or whether it was his childish pride she had squashed in the process. 

Quietly, she rushed down the stairs and followed the narrow corridors until she ended at the dungeons, the route more than familiar for her now. In the first cell was Vasilisa, whose upper half of her head was once more attached to the rest of her head, allowing her to spit as soon Cecilia passed. 

The latter halted, staring into the cell amusingly. "Hail, great red queen," she said, giving the vampire a mock bow. "I hope you find that your accommodation is up to the standard of your rank. I surely find it fitting."

Vasilisa spat some words in Russian, none of them all too kind, Cecilia knew, and unbothered, she walked to the next occupied cel. At least there were a couple of empty ones in between Vasilisa and the German, so that Cecilia at least didn't have to suffer the fate of having to be spat on constantly, though she supposed Alec would pay big money to see that. 

"Ah, Cecilia Roseanne Cullen," an unknown voice greeted her as soon as she neared the cel. The voice had a slight accent, hitting the consonants just a tad too harsh to be a native speaker. The man behind the bars eyed the ring on her finger. "Or is it Georgiou this day?"

"Not yet," Cecilia said politely enough, staring through the bars. Though she had no idea how old the vampire in front of her really was he appeared to be turned somewhere in the middle of his thirties, his blonde hair cut short and a stubble covering his jaws. He was wearing clothes that belonged from the victorian era, though that didn't have to mean anything. "May I have the honour of knowing your name?"

"I am known as Karl Schneider," the prisoner replied, smiling cunningly. 

Cecilia felt a tug at the back of her mind, as if her subconscious was warning her to be extra alert, and she did her best to match the smile on the vampire's face. "Your real name."

"Very well, Cecilia, your wit is as great as your beauty, those rumours are true," the man said. "My name is Arwin Wagner."

She felt another tug at the back of her mind and her smile turned into a frown. "I have been nothing but pleasant and yet you would lie to me like this." Cecilia turned her head to look at Alec, knowing that she only had to give a nod for him to leave the vampire in front of them completely senseless. 

"Please forgive me, I was only seeing how far I could go," the prisoner said, his accent suddenly disappearing. "The name that was given to me by my mother is Charles Louis Dupont. I have no association with Germany, other than the fact that I was stopped by the Weber's during my passing through. In fact, I was born in the noble city of Paris during the 1700s."

"If by noble you mean filled to the brim with rats and rubbish, then you're very correct," Cecilia countered, letting out a very unladylike snort. Not bothering with further conversation, she got on with what the Ancient Ones expected of her in these cases and searched for his mind. Though it was not as easy to crack as her family's, it was still a task solved in under a minute.

Scenes that seemed to come straight from a horror movie filled her mind. It had been a small and isolated village, but the at least two-hundred bodies piled up in the town centre were enough to make her stomach church. She experienced it from Charles' point of view, filled with a bloodlust so enormous that it was an unknown sensation to her. Quickly, she pulled back, taking a moment to regain her composure. Cecilia watched as Charles appeared to do the same. 

"Thank you for your willing cooperation, mon cher," Cecilia said, eyeing the man coldly. "It was most helpful."