Evie Frye emerged onto the deck of the ship as it finally steamed into harbour, watching her old life come back into focus. In front of her the lights of the docks glittered yellow through a thick layer of fog, the dock men breaking through its screen to heave crates from the ships and disappear back into the shifting wall. She could hear the shouts of the workers and the creaks of the winches, and although she couldn't see it, she knew that London lay behind the fog. Her city. Smiling suddenly, she took a deep breath to ground herself – and immediately convulsed in a cough, her lungs unaccustomed to the smog that passed as air. She'd forgotten the smell as well – the distinctive blend of soot, muck, and sea that had clung to her clothes for months when she first arrived in India. For a second she felt like she had been submerged and felt, in a strange way, like she was being baptised again.
Not that she knew whether or not she'd ever been baptised. The Fryes had never been regular church goers, and even as a child she'd known better than to ask about the events surrounding her and Jacob's birth. The one time she had, desperately curious about the photograph of the unsmiling couple on the mantelpiece, her Grandmother had looked unutterably sad and patted her on the head.
"Your mother loved you very much," she'd said in her comforting Welsh accent, "and she's in a better place now. One day you'll be there too and you'll meet her properly."
Evie had not found this terribly helpful at the time – where was this better place? Could she go there now? Why was her mother there anyway – and when she did visit, could Jacob come with her? She had been unable to ask more questions though, as her Grandmother swiftly sent her out to play with a handkerchief clasped to hide her face – and the photograph had mysteriously disappeared the next day. Now, standing on the deck of the ship bringing her back to the city she still thought of as home, she wished she'd asked them. Absentmindedly she realised she was weaving the end of her scarf between her fingers and, sighing lightly, clasped it closer, bringing it towards her face. It smelt like cinnamon and Jayadeep – a hint of sandalwood and musk with a tang of sweat. It was one of his, pressed on her when he left her at the docks. He'd not been keen on her coming back to England and they'd gone as far as to have an argument about it, which for him showed considerable distress. Inhaling again, Evie winced as she remembered her last night with him.
"Can you not at least wait until I can come with you rather than travelling all that way alone?" he'd pleaded, as she threw things into a small travelling bag.
"I'm sorry, but I can't! You have responsibilities here, training and organising, and by the time your work is finished it will be too late to go. I have to go now."
At this final dismissal he exploded, throwing his hands into the air and storming to the window, flinging the shutters open to lean out into the night air and grasping the rail until she saw his knuckles turn white. He took a few deep breaths, centred himself, and turned back to face her.
"You have responsibilities here too Evie. To the Indian Brotherhood. To your recruits. To me. You cannot just leave for England, especially not at a time like this."
She nodded, and felt an unexpected tear dropping onto her cheek.
"I know, but I have to do this. I just have to. I'm sorry."
After hours of going in circles and scraping their throats raw with shouting, it was this entirely uncharacteristic breakdown that finished their discussion. He nodded slowly and reached out to hold her on the bed while she sobbed. As she calmed down, he lifted her head up and held her gaze.
"Just promise me you'll come back."
"Of course. I promise. I love you."
That had been two weeks ago, and travelling on the steamer meant she hadn't heard from him since their farewell at the docks. It was the longest they'd gone without speaking to each other since they met, and she felt uncomfortably adrift without him. She was hoping that there would be a message waiting when she arrived at Jacob's house. She was also hoping Jacob would still have a house at all. To be fair, she'd given him very little warning, just a letter sent on the ship before hers which read 'Coming to visit. Should be here 20th'. It was possible the letter had gone astray – it would not have been the first time – it was possible he had moved house and hadn't told her, was visiting another city, was still in a drunken stupor from the week before, or had received such a blow he'd forgotten how to read entirely. None of these things would have surprised her. What did surprise her, shaking her from the uncharacteristic daydream, was the sight of a familiar hat emerging from the fog, and beneath it the grinning face of her baby brother.
There was a moment, after she raised her arm in greeting, where she wondered what to say. He must be confused about what was happening, and she was not in a state of mind to illuminate him just yet. They hadn't seen each other for a good year or so now – what did people say in situations like this?
"EVIE FRYE, YOU LOOK A RIGHT TIT!"
That certainly wasn't the answer she'd been expecting. Shocked into surprise for a second, she gawped at him with her arm still raised in the air as he collapsed into hysterics. Then, before he could stop his shoulders shaking, she had vaulted over the bars on the side of the ship and shot her grappling hook, detaching it in time to grab a lamppost, swing round and land – gracefully – in front of him. Before he could get another word in she swatted him on the shoulder, frowning at him.
"Is that how you greet your only sister after a year? Tosser."
"Yeah, well did you forget how to stand in India? One arm up like that, you looked like you were saluting me or something. I mean, I know I'm good…"
Jacob stepped back in time to miss another perfectly aimed swat, although it sent him a little off balance and he nearly slipped on a particularly gruesome looking puddle of dockside viscera. It was Evie's turn to laugh, as he desperately shook his foot to clear the muck while making a comical face of disgust. By the time he was clean she was wiping the tears from her eyes, clutching the stitch in her side.
"Well, I've missed you too." He said haughtily, throwing his head in mock dismissal and affecting the pose of a spurned lady. Evie's eyes darkened and the tears threatened to return as her face grew serious.
"I've missed you." She said simply.
Taking her arm, he led her towards a waiting carriage and gestured to the rook holding the reins to set off. Emotional intelligence was never his forte – he could almost hear the miniature Evie in his mind snorting at this astute observation – but even he knew there was something wrong. A journey halfway around the world with only two weeks' notice, no luggage and no Henry? And now the arrival of this newly emotional Evie, who actually looked like she might cry? This was entirely new territory, and he was more than a little scared. Give me a Templar any day, he thought. They're easy compared to this. Fortunately, he knew enough to stay silent, and instead simply watched Evie's face as they made their way through the darkened city. As they reached the centre and saw the buildings lit up in their finery, he thought he saw a glimmer return to her eye. The journey was a long one, and before he knew it the weight of her head was pressing uncomfortably into his shoulder as she slowly slid down, fast asleep next to him.
Evie awoke to sunlight steaming through the windows, and curled like a cat towards it. For a second she reached out, convinced by the heat that she was back in India. As she patted the side of the bed where Jay slept and found nothing, her eyes flew open as her wrist reflexively twisted as if to engage her blade. She was bolt upright with arms raised in protection before she remembered where she was and sagging slightly, she looked around. The room was surprisingly clean for somewhere Jacob lived. The windows looked well-polished and the curtains were clean, there were no piles of clothes on the floor, and the carpet had surprisingly been swept recently. Her old case stood by the door, filled with the clothes she'd left behind in London, and next to it she could see a note. Yawning slightly and drawing back the covers, she padded softly over and picked it up.
"You were dead to the world last night (not literally) so I haven't had the chance to show you my excellent new house. Now you're awake, there'll be no excuse. See you downstairs for breakfast (follow the sound of carousing)."
Snorting, she set the note back down and flipped the top of the case open. Evidently Jacob was treading softly around her, for which she felt grateful. They would probably have to go off on some kind of long chase around the city and beat up a few Templars before he'd even feel remotely able to have an emotional conversation – and for once, she was glad of her brother's impetuous character. Punching a few Templars sounded like just the ticket. Turning her attention to her wardrobe, she paused. Whoever had left her in the bed last night had removed her outermost layer of clothes but got no further, and she was going to have to finish the job. It was almost ritualistic, the process of removing the clothes she had grown so used to wearing in her new life. Off came the robe, the tunic, the belt with its multitude of holsters and pouches. Next the light trousers, the garter on her thigh – and the knife in the garter. She was left standing in front of the mirror in her under layer – a simple piece of muslin wound around her chest in imitation of a corset and a pair of loose drawers. Delving into the chest, she drew out her old favourite outfit, noting that the leather was still in good condition and the repairs made after its last outing had held up well. As she pieced it together, layer by layer, she felt herself breathing in and drawing herself upright. An outfit like this forced one to have a spine, she reflected, because there was no other way to stand. She missed the flexibility of her new skin, its comfort and softness. This suit fit almost like a glove – albeit a little tight – but it was a uniform. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to her hair.
"You're romanticising Evie. Focus on the mission." She muttered sardonically, tucking a few loose strands of hair back into place and smoothing her hands over it. That would do.
Pausing at the top of the well-appointed staircase, she listened out for any carousing. Nothing reached her ears except the clatter of cutlery on plates, and she smirked.
"Lost your edge, baby brother?"
"Not yet, sister dearest." Came a whisper from behind her, and she spun round to see her brother standing there.
"Jacob Frye – "
"Yes?" he interrupted innocently, widening his eyes at her.
Shaking her head, she turned and reached for the banister.
"Good morning."
Behind, unnoticed by the descending Evie, Jacob frowned. He was good, certainly, but Evie had always been better. She was losing her touch not to have noticed him. Bounding along he reached the foot of the stairs and ushered her over to the breakfast room, where a slightly uncomfortable figure was nervously eating a slice of toast.
"Inspector Abberline!" Evie cried, rushing over to greet him.
"Miss Frye." He replied warmly, reaching to clasp her hand. "Oh – or I suppose it must be Mrs Green now?"
She blushed, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down.
"Well, in India I tend to go by Mir, but at home it's easier to stay Frye. Miss Frye will do perfectly well here, I think."
Abberline looked over at Jacob quizzically as Evie helped herself to a kipper, egg and liberal lashings of marmalade on toast.
"Henry Green as we knew him, was masquerading under a false identity. His real name is Jayadeep Mir, hence my sister's confusing mix once she insisted on marrying the man." Jacob explained, reaching for the tea pot in turn.
"You make it sound much worse than it is Jacob, Jay had perfectly valid reasons for using a different name." the sister in question protested, spreading the marmalade on a piece of toast and alternating it with bites of kipper as the two men looked on with wide eyes.
Tearing himself away from the disturbing sight, Abberline shook his head and poured a cup of tea for himself.
"It's not that, Miss Frye. Jacob simply neglected to tell me you would be visiting."
At this, the two men were both confused to see a light blush appear on Evie's cheeks, which she hid with a slurp of tea and a ferocious stab at the kipper.
"It's…something of an unexpected visit. A whim."
Jacob opened his mouth to comment on how unusual it was for his sensible sister to make a voyage halfway around the world on a 'whim', when he felt a sharp blow to his calf. Wincing, he looked with wide eyes at the culprit, who was glaring at him with a panicked plea in his eyes to stay silent. Evidently, he thought as he took another egg to make his leg feel better, Freddie was a better judge of women than he was.
They continued making their way through the respective plate for a few peaceable minutes, before Abberline cleared his throat and turned to the pair.
"Since you're here Miss Frye, I wonder if you might be able to help me with a little problem?"
She chuckled, taking another sip of tea. "Now there's a sentence I haven't heard in a while." But as she set the cup down, a distinct look of distress came across her face, and she stood up rapidly.
She barely managed to whisper "I'm so sorry, I'll just be a moment" before running out of the room at considerable speed. Jacob and Abberline sat in confusion, staring at each other with equally bewildered expressions for a few minutes, before she returned – slightly wan but little different.
Sitting down gingerly and reaching out to pour another cup of tea, Evie fixed the two men with a steely gaze, as if daring them to question her. Neither did, and so she gingerly drank the tea and leant back in her chair.
"Again, I am sorry. Do go on Inspector Abberline. What seems to be the problem?"
Three hours later, and the two were perched on top of a church spire in central London, surveying the meeting beneath them. Since they had driven the Templars out of London the city had been mostly abandoned as a stronghold, with only a few loosely connected ruffians remaining. Every so often though, a higher up would return to scout out potential weak points in the Assassin operation. Luckily, this particular high up was also a regular on the wanted lists of Scotland Yard, hence Abberline's tip off, and the two had easily been able to track him down to a small graveyard near Covent Garden. They hung there, mirrors of each other on either side of the spire, listening to the wretched man plot an extremely inefficient coup. It was all Evie could do not to fly down like an avenging angel, but Abberline had – as ever – specifically requested that they bring the man in alive. More's the pity, she thought, as the Templar cackled at the thought of her stumbling in on Jacob's body and being crushed by an anvil immediately after. Looking over, she saw Jacob looking incredulously at him.
"Does that idiot really think I'd fall for the old pickpocket ambush trick? I'm almost offended."
"Well, you have done before." She pointed out, smirking slightly as a rapid blush covered his cheeks.
"Yeah, and you haven't told anyone about that, right? Anyway, we'd just arrived in London. It doesn't count."
"Of course." She agreed loyally, as the man beneath them settled his debt and shook hands, preparing to leave. The twins turned to look at each other and smirked.
"Shall we?" she said, readying her grappling hook.
"Let's." he replied, and they simultaneously flung themselves off the top of the spire and executed flawless dives into piles of leaves stacked in the graveyard. Moving swiftly between trees and monuments, they stalked the unfortunate Templar through the churchyard, blending into the crowds as he reached the street. Looking ahead, Evie saw their carriage standing ready with the rook lookout perched on top. She felt, rather than saw Jacob moving ahead through the crowd to get ahead of the target, and in turn she sped up to get behind him. The man sensed nothing as he blithely made his way through the crowd towards the shops, looking up at the sky to watch the pigeons wheeling about in the air. Without looking at each other, the two moved in sync to pincer him, Evie grabbing his arms from behind. Before he could turn to see who it was, Jacob had reached across to push him into the carriage and locked the door. As they heard him slamming it behind him, yelling every curse word he knew, the twins looked at each other.
"There was a time you would have dragged him through the streets first." Jacob pointed out, blowing across his knuckles nonchalantly.
"There was a time you would have beaten him up before you got him in the carriage." She retorted, swinging herself on top of the carriage.
"Well, we must preserve our reputations as knights of the realm. And anyway, this is a new suit." he added, picking up the reins and tossing a coin down to the lookout.
They sped away, making their way across the Stand and down to Embankment as the carriage reassuringly shook beneath them with the cries of the captured Templar. As they sped along the river she gazed out at the boats making their way down the Thames, and reached out to squeeze Jacob's hand. He flinched as though she'd hit him, and realising a second later that she hadn't, turned to look at her confused.
"Eyes on the road Jacob." She chided, smiling slightly.
They made it to Scotland Yard without any serious injury and delivered the prisoner to a hugely relived Abberline ("No injuries at all? You're sure?"). Looking askance at his twin as they set off, Jacob noticed her gazing off into the distance again and decided he could finally brave it.
"Evie, why are you here?"
She snorted, and he rushed to rephrase the question, feeling uncomfortably serious. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you, of course I am, but this isn't like you. And where's Henry? Have you two fallen out? I just…want to know that you're alright."
Glancing across, he saw her staring at the ring on her finger as she twisted it back and forth.
"Do you know whose this was?" she said quietly.
He shook his head, and then realising that she was still staring at her hand said "No." instead.
"It was mother's. Grandma sent it to me just before she died with a note saying she wanted me to have it. When Jay proposed he gave me his mother's engagement ring, but when we were looking for a wedding ring I wanted to use this one. It's nice to feel close to her somehow."
Jacob felt the customary stab of pain at the mention of their mother, but nodded along anyway, hoping to encourage Evie on.
"Jay and I are fine – although he wasn't particularly happy about me coming here. I had to though. I had to come back to England."
"But why, Evie?" he asked, directing the horse sharply around a corner.
"I just did!" she said sharply, and he bit his tongue to stop himself snapping in turn.
They rode in silence for a few minutes more before Evie sighed and shook her head.
"I'm sorry Jacob. I didn't mean to snap at you."
Unable to stop himself, he snorted. "You've never said that before."
Luckily for him, Evie snorted in turn. "No, I haven't. But you do usually deserve it."
"I don't know what you mean, I'm practically perfect."
"In every way." She finished, and the two of them smiled. "No, but really. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I don't really know why I had to come back, I just knew that I had to."
He nodded, no clearer but thankful that she'd calmed down again. "Well, how long do you think you'll be here? What are you planning to do? I'm trying to recruit into the brotherhood from the Rooks, but it's taking a while to get them up to scratch. You are the second-best assassin in London, I suppose you could help."
She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well technically the best, but I still think the judgement was biased."
"You would. Actually, I do know what I'm going to do. I'm going to go back to Crawley."
At this, Jacob pulled the reins sharply, stopping the horses in their tracks.
"You're going where?"
"Back to Crawley." She repeated, easily slipping the reins from him and pushing the horses on again.
"But…but…why? You haven't been back since you left, neither of us have! They may have tolerated us resurrecting the brotherhood in London Evie, but we both know they never really forgave us for leaving like that."
"Well, George did."
"One man in all of Crawley is slightly fond of us. Oh yeah, great reason to go."
"I'm not going to see the council Jacob." She snapped again, cracking the reins.
"Then what – "
"I'm going back to our old house to see if I can find anything of mother's. There must have been some mementos Father kept, and I'd like to see them."
"You're not going to stay there, are you?"
Her face was an instant mask of horror at the suggestion. "God, no. I'll go, see what I can find, come back to London and then leave. I think." If Jayadeep wants me back, she thought to herself.
"Well, as long as you don't stay there. I've already escaped once, I'm not sure I could manage it twice."
They finally returned to Jacob's house, and now that she wasn't rushing after criminals or fast asleep, Evie found herself quite impressed. The house was simple, blending into the street, but had been reinforced with Assassin standard protections. It was the house of a self-made man – and when she stepped inside, in less of a daze than she had been that morning, she took more time to notice the small details. There was a vase of flowers standing on a table in the hallway, and the floor was clean and well swept. There were curtains hanging in the windows, and the fireplaces were well kept. Turning to Jacob, she crossed her arms and frowned.
"Have you got a wife you haven't told me about Jacob Frye? This house is far too neat to be yours."
To her surprise he blushed slightly, but quickly righted himself.
"Not a wife, no. Just an Agnes. She cleans the house now, rather than the carriage. Lives in the basement. Quite nice, actually. She bakes cakes for me."
Evie remembered Bertha's long campaign to 'feed the pair of them up' and could well imagine that Jacob was indeed well supplied with cakes. Bertha's presence didn't quite explain everything though. She'd certainly never insisted on curtains when they lived in the train. Before she could push him further, there was a knock at the door and she answered it to find a small boy standing there.
"Letter for Evie Frye."
She took it and gave him a penny. The address on the front was neatly written in a hand she recognised well, and sure enough there was a stamp at the top marking its origin as Calcutta. She turned it over, broke the seal – he would insist on still using them – and scanned the contents. Her face went slightly paler, and she grasped the sideboard nearest her. Jacob quickly stepped closer, concerned at the shift.
"What's wrong?" he said quickly, reaching out to steady her.
"He's coming as well. Sent this the day after I left. He's taken the ship leaving a week after mine, and if it makes good weather he'll be here Saturday."
Jacob paused for a second, unwilling to admit that this meant very little to him. Shaking her head, Evie added "It's Wednesday today."
"Well," he began, feeling hopelessly unqualified for the conversation, "isn't that a good thing? He could come with you to Crawley, help you look for whatever it is you're looking for." Evie was, by this point, pacing up and down the hallway clutching the letter.
"No, of course, I can't wait to see him, but I think I need to go there by myself. I can't be distracted." Seeing her brother's expression, she stopped and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "I promise this isn't me reverting to father's teachings. I know now that I'd rather work alongside Jay, that I'm better when I work with him. I don't isolate myself anymore, really I don't. But this is different. This is something I need to do, and I can't do it if he's there."
Jacob nodded.
"Then go now."
She started slightly. "What?"
"Go now. You're already packed, the train leaves in half an hour, and the sooner you're there the longer you have to find whatever it is you want to find before he arrives. Then when he gets here, you two can work out whatever the problem is without him having to come to Crawley and irritate you."
Evie blinked.
"That's…actually a very good idea Jacob."
"It's been known to happen. Grab your bag, I'll give you a lift to the station."