Chapter 2. A Late Night Visit
Kira watched from the sitting room window as the rain cascaded down around the manor. It was ten o'clock in the evening, and all signs of the welcoming outdoors she had earlier been exploring had vanished. The world had changed once more, and this time, for the worse. She turned from the window and faced Connor and Achilles, who both sat at chairs facing towards the recently lit fireplace.
"The sooner we find out what the Templars are planning, the better." Achilles was saying. "It has been a month at least since we received any news of their activities."
"It has been difficult, Achilles. I have followed several leads, all of which I've found to be false, or have just led to another dead end. Whatever the Templars are planning, they're planning discreetly." Connor replied, shaking his head. The fire crackled before them and they both stared into it thoughtfully, considering what they could do and what options they had. "What about you, Kira? Have you any news?" Achilles asked, turning to her as she moved across the room to take a seat beside them. "No," she answered, settling down. "I've been busy with other things. Although, I can travel to Boston tomorrow and speak to Paul Revere, if you like. Perhaps he will know something."
"Perhaps." Achilles answered. "Perhaps not. Either way, it is worth a try."
"Good, then I'll go tomorrow morning."
The conversation continued for another half hour, switching between the Templars and their plans, the progress of both Kira and Connor's training, and finally, to the manor and sitting room in which they sat, both of which were in need of renovations. They had just settled on a suitable amount of timber, which Connor would purchase and retrieve the next day, when the room grew quiet with the absence of rain falling all over the manor. Kira stood and once more walked to the window, gazing at the sky to study the clouds. "It will start raining again soon," she observed, "I think it would be best for me to take my leave now, while it is receded. I'd like to get home before it starts again." Her small house lay on the very outskirts of Boston, and on horseback, was only a short journey away. It was possible that if she left now, she would reach it before the rain resumed its fall.
"That would indeed be sensible, yes. Unless you would prefer to stay here for the night?" Achilles offered, as he rose from his chair.
"No, thank you," She watched him rise slowly to his feet. "Please, do not feel obliged to see me out." She smiled kindly, wishing not to burden the old man. He shook his head. "That's quite alright. Although I myself would like to retire. You should do so too, Connor." Achilles addressed the young man, who himself stood up and nodded in agreement. He watched Kira bid goodnight to Achilles and leave the room, and decided to follow her to the front door. She turned to face him, grateful for the escort, as she retrieved her coat and pulled it over her shoulders. "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully I'll have some sort of lead on the Templars when I return." She stepped outside, the cold air somehow finding a way through her clothing to her skin immediately, causing a shiver to crawl up her spine. She turned to Connor once more. "Goodnight." She spoke warmly.
"Goodnight."
As she faced away, she heard the door close behind her, and suddenly she was alone, in the middle of the night, with the rain threatening to fall any second. Sighing, she made her way to the stables, where she swiftly mounted her horse. Trotting slowly to the road which she would need to take to Boston, she stared ahead, her eyes only barely adjusting to the dark. It was short journey, she assured herself. But somehow, she knew it would feel a lot longer.
…
It was a sudden knocking at her door which aroused Kira from her thoughts, as she sat, comfortably, in an armchair with a book upon her lap. She had arrived home safely, and although knowing she was in need of rest, had felt too awake to retire to bed. Instead, she had settled on a book, one she had read before, to read. It was from this activity that she was disturbed. Glancing at her clock, she noted the time. It was half past two in the morning, or thereabouts. She wondered who it was that could be knocking at her door at this hour, as she placed the book to the side and stood reluctantly to answer it. At first, she walked to it at a slow pace, but when the knock was repeated, and this time more urgently, her pace quickened. Having reached it, she proceeded to unlock the bolt, and soon the door was thrust open to reveal two men, who pushed her aside and closed the door quickly behind them. Their breaths were heavy, as if they had just been running, and they glanced at each other before turning to the woman whose house they had just entered.
Kira, taken aback by the suddenness of their entrance, retreated slightly to observe the two men, who were obviously in some sort of trouble. One had black hair, pulled into a rough ponytail behind his head, and piercing blue eyes. But it was not this man who drew her attention, but the other instead. He had dark brown hair, greying slightly, which appeared almost black in the low light. His eyes were also a darker shade of brown, and he wore on his head a tricorn hat, of navy colour, which matched the rest of his attire. To Kira, he was undoubtedly a handsome man- but it was not this that drew her to him, but was instead his uncanny resemblance to her friend and fellow assassin, Connor. Of course, she recognised them both, also, from the pictures which Achilles had mounted in the manor's basement. They had been in her house for thirty seconds, at most, and already she knew exactly who, and more importantly, what, they were.
They both were wounded, and although these wounds were hardly fatal, she could tell that they both were in need of some sort of medical help. She hid her recognition of them to the best of her ability, and stepped towards them reluctantly. "May… May I help you?" She stammered, playing the part of a terrified woman excellently. The man, whom she knew to be Haytham Kenway, Connor's father, looked at her before regarding the house around him. "Yes," he spoke with a strong and clear British accent, "would you be adverse to us staying here for a small while? We are in a bit of trouble, as I am sure you have observed." He smiled kindly at the woman in front of him, having no wish of frightening her any more than he had already. After receiving a nervous nod from her, he addressed his companion, who was taking the time to admire the woman standing terrified before them. "Charles, perhaps you could locate some alcohol and bandages? We are certainly in need of them."
"Yes, Master Kenway," Charles Lee replied, as he turned to ask the woman where the kitchen was. "There," she answered, pointing a shaking hand in the direction of the room. "Here, I'll take you."
They followed her through to the kitchen, where she leant against a kitchen counter and gestured towards a cupboard. "You'll find alcohol, and some bandages, in there." She maintained a fearful voice, and as the two men were distracted in retrieving the items, her hand slipped silently into the kitchen draw against which she was leaning and withdrew a small, yet sharp, kitchen knife. She concealed it in her sleeve, as the gentlemen found what they were looking for and turned away from the cupboard. Charles moved closer to her as his master began to pour some alcohol onto a large cut on his left arm. He held out a different bottle to Kira, and, after she had taken it, turned to reveal a large gash below his left shoulder, which was bleeding heavily. "Would you mind?" he asked, "I'd do it myself, but that would be rather difficult."
"Of course." She laughed nervously, before moving closer to the man's back. Glancing at Haytham, he appeared to be fully occupied with his own wounds, and so, quietly, she allowed the knife that she had previously concealed to slip into her hand. She raised it towards Charles, who was entirely oblivious to the danger he was in.
Suddenly she heard a thud, and the clattering of her knife as it fell to the floor, and realised she had been pinned to the kitchen wall. Haytham held her there, one hand around her throat, and the other holding the hand which had previously gripped her knife, by her head. She glared defiantly into his eyes, fighting with all of her strength to escape his grasp, but it was too strong. She couldn't help but be impressed by the man's strength, and the quickness with which he had so effectively restrained her. Charles spun around, still unaware of the attempt that had just been made on his life. "Sir!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?"
"She's an assassin." Haytham replied, his eyes never leaving hers. Her eyes flashed with surprise as he spoke, confirming that which he already knew to be true. "Are you certain?" his companion asked, and he nodded briefly. "Yes." He said, thinking of how he had watched her moments ago raising a knife to Charles's back. "I am."
Charles glanced at the woman, almost regretfully, before drawing his flintlock pistol, and targeting it at her head. "Then we kill her," he spoke, all signs of remorse now absent from his tone. "Like we killed the others." Haytham said nothing, instead taking a moment to study the woman's face. She was no longer looking at him, and instead was focusing all of her efforts on getting free, despite knowing it was no use. He thought for a moment, as Charles moved his finger to the trigger of his firearm. Kira closed her eyes, realising now that it was only a matter of seconds before Charles killed her.
"No." Haytham said suddenly. "It would be unwise to kill this woman. She could be important, or of some use to us or our cause." Relief flooded through her as she heard him speak, glad to hear his voice, as opposed to a gunshot. He dropped her, choking to the floor, and in no condition to fight. "Charles, find something with which we can bind her hands. We'll take her back with us."
Obediently, Charles lowered his gun and nodded his head. "Yes, sir." Casting one last glance at the Assassin whom his master had just spared, he turned and walked away, in search of a rope, or something of similar qualities. Left alone with the woman, Haytham looked down at her whilst drawing his sword. Turning the hilt towards her, he struck her hard on the head, and watched as she fell, unconscious. Kira's head seared like fire with the pain of the blow, and, coming to terms with everything that had just occurred, she waited for her world to fade to black.
Author notes:
Hi, everyone. Thanks for taking the time to read my story so far. Please review, follow, or favourite my story, as I appreciate all feedback, and I'd love to hear what you think. :)
I'm hoping to publish a chapter a week, however, this one's early on account of the shortness of the last chapter. I'm really enjoying writing this story for you, and I hope that you're enjoying reading it.
Thanks again,
Kittycat312
