I thought this would be one chapter, before continuing with previously posted chapters. I was wrong. This is a short one. Dark, but short and there will soon be too more. It takes on a life of it's own once I start writing and I like to follow and see where it takes me. Thank you for sticking with this story, for following and favoriting. Know that it makes my day.

- Maritar

Evie snuck forth, a ghost moving through shadow and darkness. The target, Louis Blake had his back turned, his black coat shifting minutely while he tinkered with something in his hands.

Finally.

After her missed shot at him he had disappeared, she had lost track of him a fortnight, fallen behind on every schedule, but here he was, oblivious to deaths approach. She would not make the same mistake twice.

Eyes locked on her target with deadly intent, she never let her guard down in her prowl. She flicked her wrist, releasing the blade as she swung down sharply to sink it in at the base of the Templar's skull.

With a blink of an eye, everything went down the drain. One second she was about to claim her kill. The next, every advantage was lost as the Templar moved, ducking to dodge her blade while spinning backwards with an arm extended. Then a sharp sting of pain in her thigh.

Reflex had her lash out with her kukri, ever-present in her other hand. It caught and made a deep gash along the Templars arm as she spun away gaining the distance needed to counter an attack. Coming round full circle, Evie dropped into a fighting stance, taking measure of her situation. Only then did she realize, the pain in her thigh was a syringe.

In panicked disgust, she pulled it out and flung it to the floor.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest as her thigh tingled disconcertingly. Evie raised her gaze and met the Templars eyes across the room.

The Templar clutched his arm trying to stem the flow of blood.

'Margins, Evie.' Her father's voice a whisper in her mind.

Aware of her panting breath, Evie controlled her breathing, practice kicking in and staving off the rising fear.

Focus.

Plan.

"Sir?" a disembodied voice rang down the corridors, the distance impossible to judge by sound alone startling Evie to the core. She snapped her senses in its direction, sensing the danger where red figures filled the corridor, just a short distance away.

"Sir, are you all right?"

Margins, Evie. Always keep them on your side.

"I got her," the Templar snarled gleefully. "I think most of the dose went in. Stay back until the drug works." He unsheathed a short sword, gripping it tightly in his injured hand and shifting his stance to face her.

The tingles was spreading fast, moving up her thigh and down her leg. Evie knew time was slipping away, the pain where the needle pierced her skin already numbing. A tense silence filled the room, nothing to hear but the drips of water from the tunnels and the edgy shifts of feet from the men waiting a short distance away, listening intently.

I need to get out of here. Now.

Raising her Kukri in response to the Templar's stance, Evie covertly slipped a throwing knife from her belt. In a flash of movement she let it fly, aimed at the Templar's throat. It lodged deep, severing windpipe and veins in one stroke. His eyes widened in astonishment, arm barely raised in deflection and his breath cut off mid-way. He made a hissing sound as air exited his lungs and then his body crumbled in a heap on the floor. Evie did not bother cushioning his fall, hurrying on the awkward, tingling limb to the metal barred door on the side of the room fishing the lock picks out of her pocket.

"Sir… We heard something drop." the guard sounded reluctant, unwilling to untimely interfere, yet concerned enough to brave a question. Evie's heart hammered in her chest, resonating in her ears as shaky hands inserted the metal pins in the lock.

"Sir? Is she under?" Urgency thrummed through her body, raising the hairs on her neck. Respect and intimidation would not stave them off for long. The Blighters would soon come to investigate. Evie bit the inside of her cheek in concentration. The lock gave with a quiet click.

"Sir!"

She heaved the door open, the creaking hinges relieving the waiting men of any doubt of interference. Boots pounded towards her location as she stepped through the opening. Shoving the door closed behind her, the latch clamped shut. She flung herself away as strong arms shot after her through the metal bars, fingers clawing for purchase to restrain her. A hand wrapped around her foot and tried to haul her back. Evie kicked it off and crawled backwards as the men shouted angered curses and someone barked an order to break down the door.

Above the ruckus, Evie heard the sound of guns being cocked. She threw down a smoke-grenade and stumbled to her feet, breaking into a sprint as shots rang down around her. It was a terrifying few moments of bullets ricocheting off the walls before it stopped. Whether due to the guns being empty or the men choosing to save their bullets, Evie didn't care. She was unharmed and tore on, ignoring the first few branch-offs leading west, knowing she had to put distance between herself and her pursuers before they were able to get the door open.

Every second counts. Never give up, Evie. Fight until there's nothing left.

Her leg had gone completely numb, detached and dead it was more than a little awkward running, but Evie thanked whatever almighty power resided above she was still able to. As she fled from the predators on her tail, she gained a level of confidence in the detached limb. Her body knew how to motor it, even if she had to concentrate not to overstep on uneven ground as she barrelled on.

What was more alarming was the unfamiliar tightness in her chest and the fact that she was starting to feel lightheaded. Shaking it off did nothing to lift the feeling either. Apparently, whatever had been in that syringe was hitting her bloodstream.

I need to find an exit. Fast.

She needed to get out of the enclosing tunnels, get to the rooftops and disappear, but the tunnel she was in was a storm drain. The stench was less suffocating, more of a damp rot than the putrid sewer but still foul. Worse was; there were no exits.

Evie panted as she ran. Up ahead there was a divide where, a tunnel continuing west, the other two leading increasingly southward, toward the Thames to her estimation and toward the Blighters. There had to be an exit somewhere further up.. Lungs burning in exertion, she closed her eyes briefly and reached for her gift.

Prepared to choose the safest passage, she opened her eyes, only to find the golden purpose dancing, shifting this way and that before flashing in bright red alarm a terrifying few seconds. She skidded to a halt, searching for the danger as she approached the crossroads with caution, but there was nothing there.

Bare, black emptiness greeted her skittish nerves. Her second sense had been a little weak on occasions before when she had skipped to many meals or worked very long hours. It had never acted like this before, changing and wavering, and never ever had it been completely wrong. Dread clawed at the back of her mind.

This is bad.

The second sight was her most important weapon, one she depended more upon than her hidden blade. She needed it to work; needed the gift to find her way out of this mess. Any second standing still was a second lost and Evie decided to continue west, choosing the middle tunnel and hoping it would lead out.

She pulled on the second sense as she moved along. The sense of purpose undulated oddly, and then started dancing around her in circles. She watched it bounce off the walls, as if the golden light had gained a life on its own, turned into an eager dog. No sooner had the thought passed through her mind before she realized it had indeed turned into a dog, his soft ears flopping as his head turned her way, big brown eyes confirming she was giving chase.

Another crossroad approached up ahead. Her companion increased his step, bounding off down the corridor. The light faded as he slipped away from her.

Hey! Wait!

Empty blackness surrounded her as she came to a halt. Her muscles were trembling and bile rising in the back of her throat. Suddenly the stench of the room was overpowering. Doubling over she heaved, emptying the contents of her stomach until there was nothing left.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against the wall trying to gather her thoughts. She had to move. She blinked sluggishly. Somewhere deep down she realized she had to concentrate. Gritting her teeth she called on the waning power. There was movement up ahead, a presence in the darkness. In the abysmal blackness something shifted, searching along the walls. A tall figure, his broad shoulders hunched in a familiar way. A soothing clam rolled off him as he turned.

J-Jacob?!

She could not believe it. Jacob had come for her. Evie nearly sobbed with relief. If he was here than she was safe. If he was here, no one could harm her.

She was just about to shout out, to reach for him, when suddenly, all her senses stood on end in warning.

There was something wrong. A slight shift of angles and the contours weren't right. Something about the way he moved was off. Hope dwindled and died and the lump in her throat seemed to grow. It wasn't Jacob.

Of course, it was not Jacob.

The figure flared red.

Her arms were sluggish and heavy and her fingers were tingling. Evie swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight. She clenched her jaw and willed herself to focus. The man in the darkness was a Blighter, his red coat distinguishable now. She had to take care of him silently before he called his mates. Sneaking up behind him, she flexed her hand, trying to rid the numbness in her fingers. She would deck him… and plant her blade… in his neck. Easy… She had done this… a hundred times… she was a Master after all.

A grin suddenly spread on her lips.

Perfection lies in practice. She had lots of practice.

Her mind derailed taking stock.

How long had she been doing this? How many had she killed? How much blood was on her hands?

Not enough, she thought turning her attention back to the figure in the dark.

Gone! Disappeared!

Startled, her eyes raked the darkness, searching for him and finding nothing.

Then she saw movement in the corner of her eye. Whipping around, she briefly wondered how he had managed to get behind her as she lashed out, countering the cold steel swinging down towards her, only to stumble when her movement found no resistance and the figure evaporated into thin air.

Panting hard, Evie clutched her kukri. What was this? Where did he go?

Listening intently to the darkness, she held her breath and stood deathly still.

Was there someone there? Was that a splash of stepping in water? A crunch of boot against the ground?

She reached out with her second sense again. Tingles of foreboding emanated from the tunnel whence she came. It was growing, a trickle of shining red running towards her, like blood she thought. The flow was growing. Evie stepped back keeping her boots out of the red flow, but soon she was backed up against the wall. Out of retreating steps the river of blood welled up, radiating in the darkness to colour her world in fear as several faceless men in red coats came into view around a bend. Hunched in fighting stances, their shoulders brushed as they walked abreast, not an inch of room between them. Like a wall of brute force they approached, the ominous stomping sound ringing in her ears.

Fear raised the hairs on her neck. She fought the rising panic, her fingers fumbling through her pockets before closing around her one remaining shock-grenade. It was her last chance. The only way she could escape now. The voltaic bombs would stop any living being.

She flung it into the middle of the lot. The electric charge went off with a bright blue flash, but the red seemed to overpower it. Her addled mind could not comprehend, nor did it try.

All it registered was the score of Blighters walking on unfazed, drawing knifes and raising batons as they came for her.

Panic finally fond purchase, sinking in its claws into her very soul. A desperate sob racked her voice as the red surge swallowed her whole.