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 next, 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 have been busy with other things. Although I can travel to Boston tomorrow and speak to Paul Revere, if you'd like. Perhaps he will know something."
"Perhaps," Achilles answered. "Perhaps not. Either way, it is worth a try."
"Good, then I shall go in the morning."
The conversation continued for another half hour. It switched between the Templars and their plans, the progress of both Kira and Connor's training, and finally, to the manor in which they sat, which was in dire 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 rainfall. 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, whilst it has 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 poor weather maintained its course.
"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."
The young man in question stood, nodding in agreement. He watched Kira bid goodnight to Achilles and leave the room, soon after deciding to follow her to the door. She turned to face him, grateful for the escort, as she retrieved her coat and pulled it over her shoulders. "I shall return tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully I'll have a lead on the Templars when I return." She stepped outside, the cold air finding a way through her clothing immediately, causing a shiver to crawl up her spine. She turned to Connor once more. "Goodnight," she spoke warmly.
"Goodnight."
As she turned away, she heard the door close behind her. 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, 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 to read, and 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 could be knocking at her door at such an hour as she placed the book to the side, and stood reluctantly to answer it. At first she walked at a sluggish 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. They quickly pushed her aside, closing the door forcefully 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. Yet 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. He was well-dressed; he wore on his head a tricorn hat, a deep navy colour, which matched the rest of his attire. He was a handsome man- but it was not this that drew her to him. It was instead his distinct resemblance to her friend and fellow assassin, Connor. Were it not for this, she could recognise them both from the portraits which Achilles had helpfully 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 were both wounded, and although these wounds were hardly fatal, she could tell they both were in need 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 as well as she could.
Haytham Kenway threw her an inquisitive glance 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 short while? We are in a bit of trouble, as I am sure you have observed." He smiled kindly at their new host, having no wish to frighten her any more than he had already. After receiving a nervous nod in response, 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, turning to ask the woman where such things could be found.
"I keep them in the kitchen" 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."
Kira maintained a fearful facade, and as the two men were distracted in retrieving the items, her hand slipped silently into the kitchen draw against which she was leaning. Steadily, she withdrew a small, yet sharp, kitchen knife. She concealed it in her sleeve, just 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 alcohol across 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, bleeding heavily. "Would you mind?" he asked, grinning. "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, who appeared to be fully occupied with his own wounds, she quietly allowed the knife to slip into her hand. She began to raise it towards Charles, who was entirely oblivious to the danger he was in.
A thud, and the knife clattered as it fell to the floor. Kira found herself pinned painfully against the kitchen wall, and Haytham held her there, one hand around her throat, the other forcing 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. She cursed herself for having not been more careful. 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 hissed, 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, and knowing only an Assassin would attack them unprovoked with such guile. "I am."
Charles glanced at the woman, almost regretfully, before drawing his flintlock pistol. "A pity," he spoke with mock displeasure, any true sign of remorse now absent from his tone. He took a moment to examine his weapon, a sadistic glint in his eye, as though he were deliberately trying to draw the moment out. Apparently satisfied, he raised it tortuously slowly to her head.
Haytham said nothing, instead taking a moment to study the woman's face. She had stopped fighting him, though her hands still grasped his, ready to escape at the first chance she found. Were his focus inclined to wane, or his grip to accidentally slacken, she would have the opportunity she needed. Unfortunately for her, he was prone to neither such weakness. He felt her tense beneath his hold- her breath catch in her throat- and his attention was drawn to where hers now rested: on the trigger of Charles's gun. The man's finger had settled on it meaningfully.
"No," Haytham said suddenly, stealing the attention back. "I have questions for her. She might yet prove useful."
Relief flooded through Kira at the statement, for as ominous as it was, she'd rather that than the sound of a gunshot. She was dropped choking to the floor, gasping for air and fighting to calm the waves of adrenaline that coursed through her.
A voice came commandingly from above her. "Charles, find something with which we can bind her hands. We'll take her back with us."
"But-"
"Now."
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 pursuit of the aforementioned object.
Having recovered a little, Kira had watched as Haytham addressed Charles, contemplating her potential options. Her mind flicked briefly back to the sound of a clattering knife, and spurred by the memory, she had soon spied it lying a few feet away. It would be a reach, and she would have to be fast. Her mind then replayed the ruthless efficiency with which she had been pinned to the wall. She would have to be very fast. She reflected on the potential outcomes, eyeing the distance between her and it, estimating her chances. Perhaps if she-
She paused, the uneasy feeling of being watched settling over her. She glanced up and was met with Haytham's suspicious gaze. Hoping not to betray her intentions, she settled for narrowing her eyes at him defiantly- a gesture which was quickly matched, much to her own annoyance. Surprisingly, he broke the gaze, and she revelled in this small victory. It was short-lived, however, as he regarded the knife that lay not far from his feet. He looked between her and it, connecting the dots, and she was certain he would kick it away. Instead, he simply turned to her, his expression a cross between a warning and a dare.
He was challenging her. She fought the urge to lunge for the knife out of sheer spite. For the sake of self-preservation, she decided to swallow her pride, and shot him a look of begrudging submission.
Haytham reached to draw his sword, a faint glow of triumph in his eyes. He turned the hilt towards her, taking a purposeful step forwards, a sardonic smile spreading across his face. "My apologies."
In a flash he had struck her, and her head seared like fire with the pain of the blow. Still coming to terms with everything that had just occurred, she crumpled to her side, and waited as her world faded into 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
