Bad Blood


The flickering of the candle on the nightstand danced with his movements. The sun has set just over the horizon with the snow falling landing on the window sill. He was not so much in a hurry when he placed the quill in the ink bottle on the desk. Beside it there lay his journal. It has been years since he last wrote in it. Certain pages were ripped out knowing that what was within it would only bring about hurt, lost, and betrayal. Today was the day that he was going to place the ripped pages back in their place. He kept them always close never letting anyone knew where he hid them. It was always placed in the deepest pockets of his travel pack. Inside the journal were new entries, one of which contained much more information.

He was calm with an impassive face trying not to flinch at his old journal. The paper that was within his hand was folded neatly and as he stood up from the chair he walked towards the second bed. Placing the note inside of a pack filled with clothes and other travel needs, his mind was filled with regret and his heart was once more aching. In the other hand was the journal.

Showing such emotion was said to some 'Salty has killed every emotion that makes us man.' Sailor tales were not always so true. Salty has not killed off every emotion. He was not like others nor would he dream to be. He was a man with a family. He was a man that provided granted that times were growing rougher. He knew; he knew for a fact that it was only a matter of time before their paths would cross. Thought to be long dead, Davy Jones himself did not want ol' Gray eye's soul. Even the wicked of men cannot be held in the grip of death himself.

'I thought that I could live out the rest of my days without worry. Why tempt me mistress? Why tempt me with this pain each time my old life comes to light?'

Salty could never run away from this. He could not run away from his enemies who mean to do harm to him or if by chance his family. It was all but true to know-to hear it for the second time- that Gray eye was alive. Where(?) that was something nobody seemed to know. Haytham could be hiding that information, but Templar's would never speak. All memory of his former captain bore deeply, clutching at him like a sea snake. His fangs digging deeper in his fragile skin letting the poison slowly and painfully kill him from the inside. Gray eye was a sea snake that may have looked harmless, but he was cold and calculating. He would watch with his good eye not letting his pray figure out what he was thinking until he struck quickly.

His mind was already made up and there was no looking back. He had to find Gray eye before he found us. Salty needed answers to how he survived (?), how the Templar's found him (?) and if he was working under their control? Salty was not so sure about it all yet all was just speculating. With little rest, a quick wash he was ready to leave. Placing his bag over his shoulder the room felt cold with the candle going low. His boots were heavy against the wooden floor when he was heading towards the door. Taking a glance to my side of the room where two beds were side by side, my bag was still in its place waiting for me to return to it.

My father opened the door to a busy tavern with people talking amongst themselves drinking their fill in ale, women throwing themselves to take advantage of drunken men or men having a pretty lady on their knee. The place was alive in the night and Salty did not want any part in it. His days of doing so have been long over. He had my mother and me to support him. He had us for acceptance. Even with the growing dangers around us, we will still be a family in the eyes of my father. The sea may still call to him in her sweet voice, but even a man needs to call a place home. She still misses the former pirate but she appreciates the fact that he has a child with his blood in her veins. Maybe one day the sea will meet her, but not yet. Not just yet.

Paying his due to the owner of the tavern, the older man nodded his head indicating that he was leaving the place but my father said that he did not want my things removed from our room. Making sure that the promise was going to stick with the owner, he paid another extra of his coins to the owner. There was a big smile upon the older man's face and his worn out eyes held a spark. Yellow teeth that were worn out and the stench of ale were heavy upon the owner's breath. Salty may not trust many people, but if the owner broke that agreement than my father will not hesitate to show his pirate side. With the tip of his hat my father made his way through the doors of the tavern.

The pitch was low, like the whispering of the wind in the cold of the night. Each sound was beautiful with each strum of emotion that was filled with nothing more than sadness. It gets higher and higher echoing through the streets of Boston as the violinist plays his beloved instrument with expert hands. The day's events will live in the minds of its people. He knew this was the start of something bigger, but his mind was set elsewhere. The feeling of dread loomed over Boston fitting the mood with the tune of a violinist in the tavern.

Who knew emotion could be played so beautifully? Even the heavens were moved by this piece. The sea herself was calm on this night. She must have felt his despair for the sea loved all that sail or have once sailed her. The mistress decided today to be calm for sailors out in the harbor, to be calm for I was still out in the streets with a man and a native boy that I did not know. It was a beautiful piece of music to the former pirate. Music tells a story, it tells of great battles of victory but most often than not about the loss. Much like sailor's who tell of stories of their travels, the music that comes from such instruments speak without much as words. Like the ocean, hearing the sounds of the tunes can only be heard by those who understand it. The sea, she can be jealous if Salty were to turn away from her to hear another much more… land-lover type music.

Looking up to the sky that was slowly clearing itself for the stars to shine, Salty let out a breath of air. Wondering to himself if his family would understand that he was doing this for our protection (?). It hurt him-like it hurts my dear mother- that I am out here alone in the cold streets. Trained to fight, trained as the pirate that my father once was, getting in the middle of something that I did not yet understand. Fate had its way of showing itself like how fate showed Salty the ways of the sea. She tells him to follow the path that was given to him. Follow it for the trail of Gray eye is not so far. It was then that he should have killed his former captain long ago knowing full well that one day karma would follow.

He believed that Gray eye would die from his wounds. Gray eye was a pirate. He was strong, intelligent, knew better than most, and age made him wiser than other younger sea men. The days of the pirate are slim with this change and who knows how many more are out there?

All the emotion that was being played turned into a bitter sort of pain. The pitch grew even higher with the pain and agony that the violinist felt until it slowed. It died quietly into the whisper in the wind. Salty stopped just a few feet away from the tavern. There was still much to get done before the night was truly cold. The day's event was still strong in the chilly air and after his run-in with Haytham both men set off their separate ways. It felt uncommon for both men to turn their back on one another, but they did so.

"Those who chase after a man stronger than themselves end up dead. Tell me stranger, how could one such as you leave unharmed?"

Salty walked with his eyes low to the ground and stopped when he heard an older man's voice from behind him. Being followed was something that annoyed my father. Most people would avoid such a thing but since it has been years since he used his skills, instinct took over knowing that there was another. He did not recognize this man's voice or when he turned himself to face whoever it was that was speaking, he did not know this older man. It confused him but upon further inspection, a faint remembrance of the day's spectators seemed all but clear.

"I do not know what you speak of, old man. You may have me confused for another." He stated with caution.

"I may be an old man but my eyes do not fail me. Do not play me for a fool. You know what I speak of and I saw you run after him." The older man was quick to jump to conclusion. He had a spark of fire that Salty has seen a few times with older people.

He could have smiled at this notion seeing someone who was older by many years have this fire in their voice. But this was not the right time rather this was keeping Salty calm and still. Observation was obvious as my father was looking at the older man. He was shorter than my father, yet there was something a bit strange about him.

"Who are you, old man?"

"It is best for you to say your name than for me to say mine. If you are cautious about me, wherever it is you are heading there is something that I would like you to see. I am not so fond of strangers but you; you are more than a stranger to Haytham."

"What do you know of him?" Salty almost hissed.

"It is not safe to talk in the open on sensitive things. If you want to help than I suggest you come with me."

"Give me reason, old man. I have better and much more important task at hand. Haytham means nothing to me nor his business."

"I believe it is not him, but of another whom brings you much anger, someone who was under his control. The past catches on quickly and before you can blink it vanishes without a purpose. Being a stubborn man as you are, do you believe that you can fight them?"

"How can you know so much if we have never met?"

Salty stood firm in front of the older man. It was evident that he was not Templar as far as he was concerned. He was not some regular old man who goes about to random strangers like some prophet who speaks of the past. Could this man know what Haytham is? Does he know? To hell with it! It wasn't so much of Haytham he was speaking about Gray eye. But how?!

"I have many ways, Salty Bones."


My eyes were adjusting to the darkness when I step foot on solid ground in the tunnels of Boston. I could see faintly the outlines of objects while my hands were touching the slick and slimy walls. It was best for me to place on hand on the wall despite its weird texture and my other hands outstretched before me to make sure I did not run into any objects that I might come across. Father has taught me to not be afraid of the dark but to keep calm and listen to my surroundings with my other senses. When I could not use the sense of sight my hearing was amongst the strongest.

Water dripping echoed throughout indicating that there were many passage ways and I could feel the rats skitter across my boots making squeaking sounds as I tried not to step on the small rodents. At one point a rat bit down on my boot causing me to throw it at the opposite side of me. I could see the shadow outline of Connor who seemed to be stilled as Mister Adams was making a ruckus trying to find a lantern. We were encased in silence until the lantern was lit.

With light I could see all that was a few feet in front of me. Abandoned (?) would be the most simple term but I kept my own thoughts to myself when Mister Adams handed the lantern to Connor. I would only hope-no, prayed- that Connor knows his way around these parts because for certain, I do not. These tunnels are not like that of New York where I spent most of my time exploring new passages but here in Boston, I was out of my element.

By the looks of it, Connor seemed not so sure of himself. He looked like a smart kid and he did not want to look… stupid if he ends up getting us lost. Mister Adams on the other hand was holding back more information than what was being lead on. This was not my ground to trend on and I knew when to back off with much caution.

'You better have good instincts Connor.' I thought.

"Use the lanterns to light the lamps, Connor. They'll help us find our way should we get turned around." Mister Adams said. "I hope it will not come to that."

"How many exits are there?" Connor asked.

"There are a few but we only need to go through one. The others can be found on your own free time, but we are on a deadline so I do not mean to be much of a rush. Lead the way Connor."

"These tunnels can go for miles, Mister Adams. As much as I would like to help, but maybe there is an easier way to know where we should turn and what signs to look for." I put in my own opinion.

"Just use the sounds of the animals."

Maybe I was more annoyed with me not doing much-other than stumbling upon more questions than answers- but it only seemed that everything was being balanced on the shoulder of Connor. Whatever it was that Connor was more responsible for; I was not merely involved in it or at least left in the shadows.

"I wonder why they built these tunnels…" Connor spoke.

"Many reasons I suppose." I said with not thinking and simply shrugged. "For one: there are barrels down here, so maybe for storage. Of what is only a guess and my guesses are never so simple."

I looked behind me to Mister Adams seeing if I was on a right path to the answer. He did not seem too fazed by my simple answer as Connor looked back towards me. I shrugged my shoulders once more lowering the tip of my hat. I was only making observation I thought to myself.

Once more we were encased in bitter silence. With Connor leading the way using his hearing, it was pretty astounding that even with the echoes this boy could decipher which way to go. I could say that I was impressed-which I was- this made me want to learn even more. His talents reached higher than my own. His training was far different if not advanced than my own. I knew he was more than what he seems to be. There was something in this native boy that was beyond my learning and beyond my own reach. Of course he grew up in the forest where even the best of hunters have extraordinary skills. Using the sounds of the rats, Connor led us to where we needed to be.

"Well, well! You were right. I apologize for ever doubting. No wonder Achilles has taken such in interest in you."

Crossing my arms and shaking my head, there was this nagging voice in the back of my head when this man's name-Achilles- was mentioned once again. Was this man Connor's mentor or family member? I was only curious but I did not ask. Looking over to Connor he seemed impressed more with himself than any. Maybe he doubted his own ability to find his way. He was older than me by some years it seems and I was sure myself that even I would not have found our exit in 'record' time. I wanted to laugh at myself for being more impressed with this boy. With a friendly gesture I patted his shoulder than back away just a bit.

"Maybe you are capable of being on your own." I teased.

"If I did not run into you, maybe I would have taken a bit longer to get away from the guards."

I smiled under the scarf. "That may be true. I grew up in streets like the one above us. Instinct takes over and then it changes when I cannot see the sky above me."

"Use your hearing if you cannot use your sight. Your strongest trait is sight and touch."

"Oh? I can only guess that yours is hearing and touch." He gave me a small smile.

The conversation between Connor and I was the first time. He did not seem too awkward with me. It showed on his face which was calm. It has been a few hours since we bumped into one another. Maybe he was not so cautious of me (Seeing as I was not a threat) or maybe just polite. Either way, I can see an acquaintance-ship (?) growing. But just not yet. Though it was not so when I heard Mister Adams having trouble with the door. If it is not one problem it is another. There may have been a spark in the older man's eye when he looked to Connor. I was not looking too impressed with this man using Connor for his own need. If any, I was capable as much as the native boy- but he was proving himself more and more that I was the one that needed more of the training.

"I don't suppose lock-picking is part of your repertoire?"


The day's events can strain one's body and it can strain one's own mind. I wanted to sleep knowing that we still had a few more hours until the sun rose starting another new day. After leaving the tunnels we headed to one of the printer shops to bribe the printer inside. He was all the eager for the coins he received to keep him from making more wanted posters. From there, Connor had to find a tavern to stay in for the night. There were many to choose from, though he needed one that was not full-More along the lines of ones that were not filled with much drunken asses or people who wanted trouble. Even with the late of night there were still people about.

Mister Adams assured me that we meet in the morning at the harbor and to bring what I had. He told me that I would be needed to accompany Connor on his journey back home. I was hesitant on this but my gut told me to do so. Saying my goodbyes to both Mister Adams and Connor I made my way towards the direction of the tavern I was staying in. It was a lonely walk in the middle of the night. Using new routes to avoid conflict from the guards I was hoping to run into my father by now.

Even though I was tired, instead of heading towards the tavern I headed towards the harbor. If there was a place father wanted to meet it would have to be where he could hear the water hit the shores. Keeping myself hidden in the shadows I tried to look for something that I could distinguish as father. One hour turned to two with no sign of my father. Hope was dwindling by a thread when I kept still on the rooftops. Maybe father was at the tavern and that is where I headed. But it was the same once I entered inside. There were still people. No doubt drunk to the point they were falling from their chairs. Father was nowhere in sight. The owner told me that he left some hours ago when the sun set. I knew this could not be so true. This was not like him to leave me on my own without so much as his guidance. Quickly, I headed back upstairs and the owner was right. His travel pack was not within sight in the barely lit room.

Looking around for any sign as to where he left; I looked in my bag and found a note:

Seliah,

Do not be afraid for what I am to tell you. You are still growing and I know that I cannot always guide you through this. Use all that I have given you. Use your talents. Use your strength in your teachings. I have not left you on your own because if I have done so, your mother will drag me out to sea with a heavy rock tied to my feet. Do not return to New York for there is still something that 'you' need to do. I will not say why I have left you on your own but this is for your own good. We will meet again in a couple of days if not more. Keep in mind that there will be dangers in the coming months. You are ready to be on your own.

I did not know what I should feel. I reread the note over and over again. One: I had to make sure that my Spanish was not playing tricks. Two: in case there was a riddle. In fact I did not know what to even think. Father left me on my own during the killing, not finding me when I was with Mister Adams and Connor, only to leave me alone in Boston. Anger was not how I should feel but I should feel proud. I went through all of this on my own without father being at my side every second. He knew what he was doing from the beginning when we first laid foot in Boston. Did he know about all this? It was possible, but unlikely. No one could have predicted the bloody massacre.

Placing the note back in my pack I stumbled across something familiar. The journal of my father was within my pack. Picking it up in my hands I walked towards the window searching through it with intent. There was something in the journal that I have not read.

'This is from his beginning.' I thought to myself.

I did not want to read it all. There was a purpose to this. Holding on to the journal in my hands, I would have to wait to read it thoroughly once more. When the sun rises and I meet Mister Adams and Connor at the harbor, more likely we were going to sail to Connor's destination. Funny how the sea calls to her children with pirate blood, no matter how many times I try to not follow in father's footsteps the mistress calls to me. The journal will make a good read.

The stars in the night sky were beautiful this time of year. The snow no longer was falling. The clouds no longer covered the shining lights. I took of my hat letting my hair fall freely. Next was my scarf which now I could smell all that was around me. It was late in the night so bathing would have to wait until a few more hours. The stench of the tunnels, of the day in general was a test; A test of my self-worth. I smiled as my eyes recognized certain constellations in the sky.

Thoughts of what tomorrow lay ahead for me: I had to keep myself from straining away. This was a new journey for me. This was a task. There was something that was still troubling me no matter how many times I tried to shrug it off of my shoulder. Father knew something that he was not telling me. Father wants to keep it away from me knowing well that I will end up finding out what it is. His inner demons were haunting him once more. There was a reason why he left me on my own for the first time. There is always a reason for things that he did. It was the matter of me finding out what it was. Is father a part of something that even I will not bare to understand?

'Could it be that the Templar's are after him once more?'

"If only you could write in your journal once more, father. Then maybe I can understand what it is that you want to keep away from me." I whispered.


Thank you for the lovely reviews. The next chapter will come out shortly once I beat this cold. Fight the sickness! Fight!