Siren's Call

IX: Pride

Through careful prodding and the keeping open of one's ears, Rana learned that an Assassin by the name of Stephane Chapheau was right under her nose. If anyone could pinpoint her to Connor, it would be him. Jacques' propensity toward information gathering came in handy for her once more, as he managed to pinpoint that the man was both a chef and working in a pub on the other side of town. A disgruntled Frenchman, he was a known dissenter of the British presence in the colonies and she'd heard that he had taken a butcher's cleaver to their necks more than once. Definitely a man worth recruiting: Connor had done well to get him on the side of the Assassins.

She stepped into the pub late in the evening to see him angrily ranting to one of his customers, the thick accent a dead giveaway.

"Are you Monsieur Chapheau?" she asked, breaking him away from his tirade.

The man looked her up and down once. "This depends. Do I owe you money?"

"I think you would remember if you owed me money," said Rana, unable to suppress the lilt that floated into her voice. Having grown up in a whorehouse, she learned quickly that a man was more willing to cooperate if he perceived that a woman found him attractive. She didn't: she thought he looked unkempt, smelly and sweaty, but he did not need to know this just yet.

He nodded in agreement. "This is true. Wait ... I think I know your face." Rana raised an eyebrow before he remembered. "Ah! You are the she-pirate the guards are looking for, non? Rana Demir? You have quite a bounty on your head."

"They have a wanted poster already?" she demanded, turning to give both Jacques and Alf poignant looks. "Get one for me, Alf."

"Captain."

The large Northman was out the door in a matter of moments, and she returned her attention to the matter at hand. "I am looking for someone … and I believe you might be able to help me."

"What makes you think this, Miss Demir?"

She raised a hand. "Captain Demir, if you please. And an Assassin would know where his leader wanders, would he not?"

Chapheau regarded her with surprise, then. "You run with the Templars, or so I have heard. Why in all hell do you think I would tell you where Connor is?"

"Why do you think there are wanted posters?" she asked. "I killed one of their agents ─ they were about to double cross me and steal my money. Unfortunately, I was not smart enough to kill him when the sun was down."

He laughed. "C'était stupide." The last thing she needed was for this unwashed French-Canadian bastard to feel the need to laugh at her. She exhaled sharply and reiterated her question. Following a poignant look, he said, "So now that they have shot you in the back of the head you wish to unleash Connor on them like a rabid dog?"

Rana crossed her arms across her chest, her jaw setting in a hard line. "I have information he would find valuable; our goals are aligned. He wants to deal with them, and I would like them dealt with."

"Why not deal with them yourself, if you are so powerful an adversary?" he countered, now simply being facetious with her.

The thin thread of patience she had woken up with that morning was beginning to fray. "Do you mock me or are you simply trying to see how far I can withstand this to decide when to stick a knife between your eyes?"

Before he could counter such a threat, the door to the bar burst open and Firebrace all but sprinted up to her, out of breath and with a face drenched in sweat. Balancing himself on his knees for a moment, he tried for what felt like ages to find the strength to tell her what was going on before she demanded, "What? What has happened? Is the town burning? Is there a princess that must be rescued? What is it, boy!?"

"Templars," he forced out at last, "ransackin' the … warehouse, they are! I think I 'eard one of them say they was gonna burn it!"

Rana felt her heart plunge directly into her stomach, the fires of vicious temper rushing up her throat. Swearing in her native tongue, she rushed out of the building and found an unattended horse. She needed Alf ─ she would not suffer this insult without spilling at least a gallon of blood in retaliation.

"Where is Alf?" she roared to no one in particular. "Someone find him and tell him what is happening! Jacques, Firebrace; find him NOW."

She did not even give them time to discuss the subject before she kicked the horse into full speed, hooves pounding through the streets of Boston at dangerous speeds. Many were leaping out of the way, shaking their fists at the madwoman atop the horse, but she paid them absolutely no mind. All she could see was a violent shade of red, fantasies of the ways she would kill all responsible flooding into her head and clouding her judgment and reasoning. To use her as they pleased and toss her aside like a lowborn whore? To infiltrate her property, to steal her belongings and then burn it to the ground as some sort of twisted example?

They would pay.

The warehouse was on the other side of town. Despite her anger, she was baffled that they would attempt such an assault out in the open. Did they think they could pass it off as some sort of accident? She had no explosives in her warehouse; no one was foolish enough to keep tea and other such commodities near something that could set ablaze at a moment's notice. However, it was likely that the right people had been paid to turn a blind eye to such destruction. Odd how frustrating such an otherwise-convenient thing could be when turned against her.

The lapses in judgment she had been suffering were taking a noticeable toll on her usual confident outlook. Failure always managed to trigger the impulsive behavior that got either her or her crew in trouble. It was another one of the lovely habits that had been burned into her in that damned brothel. Fatima did not tolerate failure from any of the girls, much less the child she was looking after in the name of an investment.

Rana leapt off of her horse, positioning herself behind a tall stack of crates. She could men talking from within, moving her smuggled goods in and out. Every step they took filled her with fire to burn down a village. Luckily, she intended to release that fire on every man that dared set foot on her property. Steeling her resolve, she motioned to storm ahead and start stabbing any fleshy surfaces. Her advance screeched to a halt when she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and force her backward. A hand clamped over her mouth to prevent her from crying out.

She struggled relentlessly against her captor, whoever the hell it was, but there was enough power in the arms that were pulling her back that she felt like a rag doll, thrashing in vain, legs kicking. Rana was pinned against the wall of a nearby building, her back stuck against the bricks. Squinting in the darkness, she made out a pair of furious eyes.

"Are you touched in the head?" he demanded, and her eyebrows furrowed together in a mixture of shock and rage. The least likely of people was staring back at her, regarding her as if he had just personally prevented a suicide attempt. "Running into that building alone would see you killed!"

"What in all hell?" she barked when Connor removed his large hand from her mouth, thrashing against his grip. And just like that, all thoughts of the conversation she intended to have with him were long gone. The hands clamped on her forearms were preventing her from going anywhere. "Let go of me, you bastard! This is not your concern!"

The frown on his face deepened. "You would sacrifice yourself for some smuggled goods and a warehouse?"

Her eyebrows shot up, and she attempted to throw an arrogant laugh right in his face. "Sacrifice myself? I can handle a few grunts. Let go of me and I will show you how it is done."

"There are over 20 armed men in that warehouse," he deadpanned, unfazed by her bravado. "I have seen your fighting style. You are best in open spaces that allow you to move freely, to confuse and anger them. In such closed quarters, you would be overwhelmed in minutes. They would pin you down and you would be finished."

Rana scowled. It was not often that someone she had spoken to all of four or five times ordained to lay out her odds of survival. And it was also unsettling to hear him dissect her fighting style so accurately. "The fact that you think you can stop me─!"

"I am stopping you," he interjected. Unfortunately for her, he was right. Connor restrained her with little effort. Rana's original advantage over him was a combination of surprise and speed; both of which she had now been deprived of.

"I am not going to suffer this insult," she snarled then. "You do not understand what this will do to my reputation!"

Connor exhaled, shaking his head. "This is foolishness. You risk yourself for nothing but your own pride. Is your reputation really worth more than your life to you?"

"You lecture me when you know nothing about me or my world," she retorted, eyes narrowing, lips turning up into a scowl. "Reputation is everything to someone like me! What respect would be shown to me if I allowed such an act?"

"You must earn respect for it to last," he replied with ease.

Her jaw set in a hard, impatient line before she said, "The laws of my world are written by men. Either I take it by force or I ─ am ─ nothing."

Connor paused, scrutinizing her face for a few moments before he replied, "You live in a harsh world."

"And that harshness will not serve you well unless you unhand me," said Rana, her hand still trying with a tireless ferocity to reach one of the many knives on her person .

"I saved your life," he deadpanned, "and now you threaten mine?"

"You interfere where you are not welcome," she snapped. The famous composure she upheld in most situations was shattered into unsalvageable pieces. It had been a terrible day for her and if pushed to her limits, she would start killing everything in her path.

"You would have been overwhelmed!" Connor cried, reiterating his previous point, an impatient spike in his tone. So fixated were those two on arguing with each other that they forgot to notice the soldier now advancing on them both.

"Oi! I found the bitch, she's over 'ere, skulkin' around all suspicious-like!"

He sprung into action with the speed of a crack of lightning, grabbing the man by his head and smashing that head into the nearby wall. It left a mess, but that was the least of her concern. Rana's eyes grew in astonishment. The complete lack of hesitation in so brutal an attack was what floored her with this man.

However, that was a question for another time, as more of them began to sprint forward.

"Fuck," she breathed and felt his grip on her loosen just enough, and moved a hand to unsheathe one of the daggers at her belt. The soldier had alerted the attention of at least five of his comrades, and more were to follow in a matter of moments. This night had gone very sour and she was not about to let herself get killed, or worse, captured. If there was one thing men like those soldiers loved, it was putting a woman in what they believed to be her place.

Connor gave her no opportunity to steel herself for battle. "Come with me!"

"What─?"

"Unless you want to die, it would be best to come with me." Unconsciously, her hand wrapped protectively around the key dangling at her neck. Promise me. Swearing under her breath, she gestured for him to lead the way. They could already hear the cries of the men in pursuit, hot on their trail.

Connor wove through the back alleys of the city with ease, with the experience of someone who had either lived or frequented the city for a good portion of his life. It was slightly comforting to be around someone who knew what they were doing. Or appeared to; but she assumed a man who could unblinkingly smash another's head into brick knew some semblance of what he was doing.

Hurriedly they ran down a dark path, annoyed to discover that there were soldiers on either side. For the moment, they were blocked, and the sound of footsteps grew ever nearer to their position. Connor told her to wait with a silent hand gesture and appeared to wrack his brains for some sort of idea, but their time was running out quicker and quicker and this was no time for carefully laid out plans of escape.

"I have an idea."

Acting on pure impulse, Rana grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and dragged him into the darkest corner of the alley. Situating her back against the wall, she closed a considerable amount of distance between their mouths and instructed him to act natural in a calm voice. Now to answer her musing on whether or not his mouth was as soft as it looked. Giving him no time reply, she forced their mouths together and heard the sharp intake of breath, his muscles locking down in alarm.

In the moment, it seemed like a logical solution: it would minimize them both breathing and also create an awkward situation for their pursuers. The average hired sword for Templar dirty work would not assume that their targets would be up against a wall and going at it just before the clock struck midnight. The shadows would skew what little of their features were visible. After all, the colonies attracted all manner of people. Why not the queer types to publically display their affection on a cold, dark night?

Connor did not adjust well. He was stiff, tense, clearly inexperienced and arguably entirely inept in this field. Rana adapted with necessary fervor, no stranger to men who didn't know their way around a woman's mouth, letting her fingers wander up to knot in his hair in an attempt to get him to relax. The deception would fail if he looked like he was fighting off fish with his lips.

The men began to walk past them, muttering to themselves about where the targets could have gotten off to so quickly. Thankfully, he was smarter than she thought he would be and began to respond … adequately. It was still uncomfortable for all involved; although she was grateful he had stopped doing that horrid movement with his mouth and left everything to her.

There was an inexplicable smoky taste to his mouth that fascinated her, almost taking the edge off of the situation. It ended once the men were gone and she pushed herself off of him, ducking out from beneath him. Connor stood in the same position for what felt like an hour, still stiff as a board before he turned, eyebrows furrowed together as he appeared deeply troubled. Even in the darkness, she could make out the dark color tinting his cheeks.

Rana scoffed. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, you act as if I am the fiend who has so cruelly stolen your virgini─!" She froze in the middle of her sentence, an incredulous smile stretching across her face. "Was … that the first time you have ever kissed a woman?"

And in that instant, he went from uncomfortable to defensive. "I do not see what that has to do with the situation─!"

Just like that, the destruction of her warehouse was out of her mind and she became too preoccupied with laughing at the growing impatient scowl on his face. "Good God, Connor. You can break a man's skull against a brick wall but kissing is where you draw the line?"

"We are supposed to be hiding, and you are doing a terrible job of it," he said instead, walking with a pronounced huff to make sure the coast was clear.

She snickered despite herself and found the idea baffling. Connor was not the most handsome man to ever live, but he was definitely tolerable. The height and broadness of him could make a simpering colonial girl feel safe and protected. As many were incapable of doing so themselves, a man like Connor should have found himself a woman in no time at all. But then, charm and wit seemed to fly over his head. From what she could understand, he couldn't talk a prostitute into bed.

Or was he one of those types that put the protection of the land far above his physical needs? One of those extreme types. Going 20-something years without a good rutting was outright cruelty, in her mind. Or maybe chastity was a requirement for the warriors of his people ─ all possibilities were equally disturbing for someone like Rana.

They maneuvered their way down a deserted street, and while waiting for Connor to make sure all was well, she noticed something pinned to a wall. With eyebrow raised, she ripped it off and surveyed it in the moonlight.

"Oh no," she said with a pronounced frown.

Connor was at her side instantly, poised for attack. "What? Do you hear them?"

She brandished the wanted poster in his face. "Do you see this? They have butchered me. They didn't even get my nose right!"

"There are at least 15 men after you," he deadpanned, an incredulous knit in his brow. "And this is your biggest concern?"

"That is easy for you say!" she exclaimed haughtily. "I have seen your wanted posters and you look fantastically frightening for the average colonist."

Exhaling sharply, Connor turned his attention back toward the men still skulking around the area and ignored the pirate now tossing her wanted poster with disgust to the ground. They moved away from the alley and back onto the main street, Rana suggesting that her men would likely be waiting for her back at the Badger, and that they could fight off any guards. Not that they would be stupid enough to mount an assault on a place of business.

They were not 50 yards from the Badger when they heard a sharp intake of breath from behind them. A man who had the look of a scout opened his mouth to begin screaming and Rana acted in a fit of adrenaline. He managed to force out a they're over here before she sent a knife flying into his jugular. However, it was too late at that point.

Six men rushed into the clearing, and their task was to dispatch them as quickly as possible before more could be alerted to the ruckus. Rana's pent up aggression was aching for a medium of release, and this proved an opportunity that had a predatory grin stretched across her face.

"Shall we split them down the middle?" she told Connor. Looking them up and down she added, "Figuratively and physically."

"It's the woman we want," the apparent leader of the troupe of men told the rest of them. These were no ordinary soldiers; they were hired mercenaries. And particularly ruthless ones.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Who the fuck sent you?"

"You've made enemies, love," the man said. "All this piracy's finally come to bite you in the arse. Dangerous men who don't like some uppity cunt takin' away their hard-earned money and killin' their men."

She scoffed. "And you're one of them?"

"Nah," he replied. "I'm just another sell sword that likes getting paid good coin and putting bitches like you in their place."

"Yes, well." Rana's fingers flexed as her hand reached up to stroke the hilt of the dagger at her belt. "There's a reason they don't try to take me down themselves, boys. If you continue down this course of action you will only find your cocks lobbed off."

The leader turned his attention to Connor. "You don't have to die for this bitch. Turn the other cheek, pretend you didn't see us and we'll pretend we didn't see you."

Rana's jaw flexed and she prepared herself for a solo run. It would take some maneuvering and fast footwork, but taking on six men would be simpler than taking on twenty of them. It would be nothing personal, she decided. Who in their right mind would fight skilled men for someone who had, twice now, been a source of pain or annoyance?

"That is not going to happen," Connor said, flooring her. She looked at him in a moment of disbelief, lips parted in confusion.

The mercenary scoffed. "Have it your way. All you savages have got the same martyr complex, anyway."

Rana snapped her attention back to the problem, at hand and without a word more, marched up and buried one of her daggers deep in the chest of one of his men. As he collapsed to the ground with a gurgle, she looked at the leader and said, "I am the only savage you need worry yourself with, you sanctimonious fuck."

Unsheathing the sword at her side, the battle begun in earnest. Steel met steel in a ring that resounded around the dark neighborhood. The large ax strapped to the leader's back was brandished with pride. His movements were cumbersome and slow, but there was enough power to slice her arms off if she got too close. She was so focused on avoiding the leader's ax that another man came up from behind and attempted to lodge his sword somewhere in her body.

Teeth grinding, she briefly swung in his direction and landed the heel of her boot in his gut. Another rushed forward, grabbing her by the ankle and threw her backward so that she slammed into the hard ground and rolled for a few moments, before sliding to a stop.

"Oi!" the leader cried. "Orders are to take her alive."

Back and muscles aching, she let out a long list of swears under her breath. Connor was preoccupied with one particularly fierce swordsman, but threw her a glance with concern knit into his brow. She was up on her feet before he could do anything about it, smashing a fist into the jugular of one off the men near her and burying his own sword in his gut.

Wiping sweat from her lip, a broad smirk flashed across her face as she said, "More's the pity for you if you cannot deliver a killing blow."

A man jabbed his sword in the direction of her arm, which she sidestepped only to find that he had whirled and locked his arms around her waist. Rana struggled for half a moment before she angled her head and slammed the back of it into the man's face, disorientating him just when another was lunging at them both with a dagger.

She slipped away just quickly enough to watch him stab his own man in the face, bloodcurdling screams bouncing off the walls.

Rana then turned her attention to the man with the ax, who was now charging at her like a rabid elephant. She waited for him to get close enough before leaping out of the way, riding on the tips of her toes until she was facing his back and sliced a horizontal slash that elicited a roar of pain.

"Come here, you bitch," he said through his teeth. "I can see why they paid us so much coin to see you dealt with."

She scoffed, throwing him a pout. "And now you won't be able to use it."

The insatiable urge to punch him straight to his face was overwhelming, but she knew better than to get within range of that damned ax. He charged at her again and as she leapt out of the way, Connor dashed forward and palmed the man's ears. With a groan, he stumbled backward, disorientated.

Rana stood to her feet. "You did not know that move before."

"I learn by observation," was his only reply, yanking the ax out of the mercenary's hands and tossing it onto the ground with a resounding clang.

Cracking her knuckles, she made her way over to the leader and sat on his stomach, straddling either side of him. Pushing one of her knives against his throat, she said, "Give me one good reason I should not cut out your tongue as we speak."

"Threaten me all you like," he replied with teeth clenched. "You don't scare me, you cunt."

"I should," she said, fingers tightening around the hilt of her knife. "I scare your employer enough to send poorly skilled men after me. Give me a name so that I may return the favor."

He spat at her. "Go to hell."

Rana pulled the man's head off the ground by his collar, pushed the tip of the knife deeper into his skin, eyes narrowed. "Would you really die for whoever hired you? Because I could cut your throat right here; you could bleed out on the floor, make a mess. And then they will hire someone else to take care of me …" She leaned forward, a smirk playing on her lips as she added, "and fail again."

She wanted to convey that he was cornered, the glint of a cat with a mouse between its paw in her eyes.

A dark figure loomed five feet away from them, but she could tell by the sheer height of him that he was no foe. Looking up from her work, she asked, "And where the hell were you?"

Alf stepped into the light, his jacket splattered with blood. "Keeping the rest off of your back."

"Well, I have a task for you," she said, lifting herself off of him and gesturing to the man lying on the ground. "I want you to get information from him. Who he works for, what their motives are. Everything."

He nodded. "Yes, Captain."

Rana shot the man on the ground a look of brief pity. "This is your last chance to speak to me. As you will find that Alf is far less, ah," she paused, purposefully searching for the most accurate word, "accommodating."

"You think that'll frighten me, aye?" he demanded. "I fought in the Seven Years' War, girl. I've seen the worst men have to offer in this wretched world, so don't think some pale giant will break my resolve any further."

Storm-like and silent, Alf swept to the mercenary's side and pulled him to his feet by the collar of his jacket. "Your petty land wars mean nothing to me, runt."

"Do it elsewhere," Rana said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I have no stomach for such barbarism right now."

"Captain." Just as quickly as he appeared, Alf was gone with the mercenary leader in tow. With a soft exhale, she turned her attention back to Connor, who had yet to leave. He had gone above and beyond and she had yet to figure out why. What would compel to stick his neck out. Was it coin he wanted? She remained unsure of his motives, and it frustrated her to no end.

Following a pause, Connor said, "It seems it is not only the Templars that want your head."

She scoffed. "If there is one thing that my way of life has taught me, it is that enemies are simply a sign that you sail in the right direction."

"Perhaps," he conceded. She was sure he had no shortage of enemies facing him down on a daily basis, and would do well to see it as a good omen. Pissing people off will happen to a man that wants to save the world.

"It appears I am once again in your debt," she said. "Go to the Sleeping Badger tomorrow evening. I have information that will prove useful for you."

"Information about what?" he asked.

"The Templar smuggling ring."

Connor crossed his arms across his chest. "And why can you not tell me now?"

"Because I need a fucking drink and a bath."

† † † † † † † †

A/N: Aw man, I'm sorry for the delay, guys. Things have just been rough in the real world side of things and it's hard to find motivation to just sit down and write. But thank you for the kind words and kudos, and I hope you'll stay with me throughout the entirety of this story!