The wagons were driven into the yard before halting; the horses steaming with sweat from the hard drive. The guards and the people outside came running, having seen their rushed arrival. By experience, they knew it bode badly. The hurried transport had rendered Elisabeth unconscious, the shaking of the wagon inflicting more pain than her mind could handle. They were all soaked to the bone, but Elisabeth was shivering uncontrollably. As Jacob picked her up from the wagon, he saw his sister crossing the yard in long strides with Henry trailing close behind.

"Jacob! What's happened?" Seeing Elisabeth hanging limp in his arms her face changed to shock. "Jacob, you were supposed to guard her!"

Jacob felt the anger flare in his chest and worked hard to control it. He hated it when she acted as if she was his mother, and not his twin, but this time she was not going to make him loose his temper.

"Evie! I will not fight with you right now. You can either leave, or shut up and help me."

Evie opened her mouth as if to speak. He noted a look of surprise on her face before she shut her mouth and followed him in silence down the stairs to the kitchen, where he lay Elisabeth down on the table.

The last time it was utilized as operating table, he had lain there himself, after having suffered a serious stab wound to the chest. He remembered the worried look on his sister's face and the flippant remark he had made to cheer her up. "It's not too bad, Evie. Most of the bleeding is inside, and that is where the blood should be." She had rolled her eyes at him, and her worry had mixed with anger. He found it was easier to deal with her anger than knowing he caused her worry and grief. Now, standing by the table where Elisabeth lay injured, he felt his remark had only added to Evie's burden.

Mrs. Cutler had been tending the fire in the hearth when they walked in, but came to help Evie get Elisabeth out of the wet clothes. With the blood-loss, her body was struggling to maintain temperature, and the wet clothes were draining heat from her body. Jacob turned his back to the table and started to remove the gauntlet and the hidden blade. He took off the soaked overcoat and threw it in the corner when Henry entered the kitchen carrying the medical supplies. Jacob helped him unpack what they needed.

Evie and Mrs. Cutler had Elisabeth wrapped in blankets, all but the side where the knife was still stuck in the wound.Now she was slowly coming around, a pained expression on her face and confusedly struggling against the swathe. Jacob found the bottle of chloroform in the bag, unscrewed the cork and wet a cloth with the substance. The faintly sweet smell filled the kitchen as he draped the cloth over Elisabeth's mouth and nose. After breathing in the sedative, she lay at ease as Henry set to work. Carefully he cut the skin, widening the wound for access, until the blade was visible almost to the tip. Only then, did he remove the throwing knife. Blood gushed from the wound when the knife was no longer holding it back. Even with the chloroform, Elisabeth twitched as Greene explored the wound to find the ruptured vessel. Jacob aided Evie in pinning her down, making sure she would not move. Once she was still, the bleeding vessel was not too hard to find, and sewing it shut, Henry soon stopped the bleeding. She had lost a lot of blood, and looked as pale as a sheet, but her heart was still beating and she was still alive. Henry washed the wound out with a dilution of carbolic acid, before sewing it shut. By then unconsciousness had found Elisabeth again, though Jacob knew by the rapid pulse on her neck and the shallow, rapid breathing she was still in pain.

Jacob left his sister and Mrs. Cutler to clean up and dress the wound, and went up to the dining hall where the Rooks were waiting for news. The room was crowded as usual, but the atmosphere was sombre and quiet.

"She is still alive," he said as he sat down amongst them, "but only time will tell if she makes it."

Charles placed a pint of ale in front of him and someone brought him food. He ate, thankfully, feeling the warmth spread through his body, famished after the fight. The Rooks were talking quietly amongst themselves, no one in a mood for laughs and jokes tonight. Jacob fell into his own thoughts as he drained his pint. "You were supposed to protect her!" His sister's words rung through his head. Jacob pushed the thought and the guilty feeling it brought to the back of his mind. There were still things to sort out and he could not afford to lose his focus. Not yet.

With the pint empty, he left the Rooks in the dining hall and returned to the kitchen. Henry had packed away the medical supplies while Evie and Mrs. Cutler had cleaned the blood of Elisabeth and dressed her wound. Jacob had ripped the only set of clothing she owned, and Evie had gone rummaging in his drawers. Knowing Jacob never slept in anything but his smallclothes, she had put Elisabeth in one of his nightshirts. The shirt was far too big, and made her look fragile, almost like a child.

Jacob was not unknown to injured people. He had seen plenty, both during his days of training and over the last year in London, but somehow this was different. Elisabeth had not taken part in a fight, did not have the ability to defend herself, and had depended on him to keep her safe. It was not her war; she was an innocent who had been entwined in the fight against the Templars. She had put herself at risk by walking off, but he should have known; should have foreseen the pull the site would have on her. He should have stopped her. The sight of the unconscious girl on the table almost made him flinch, but he pulled himself together, feeling his sister's eyes on him.

"I need a word with you two he said," addressing Evie and Henry. "Will you join me in her room?" Evie was drying off her hands and turned to follow him, as Jacob picked Elisabeth up from the table.

The pain from moving made her moan, as he carried her upstairs to her room. He laid her down on the bed, pulled the covers up to her chin, and sat down by the fire with Henry and Evie.

"Now tell us what happened," Evie said. She was watching him interested, and for once, there was no judgement in her eyes.

He relayed the events; the search for the tower, halting the wagon at Limehouse and Elisabeth's entranced walk down the street. "The Templars were waiting for us," he said stroking a hand down his face. "They knew we were coming, and we were ambushed."

The day had drained him, but he would not show them how tiered he was. He continued his tale, relaying the fight blow by blow, the Rooks appearing and the attack on Elisabeth. He said nothing of the horror he felt as he saw the injury and her blood streaming down the street, but he knew he could not fully hide it from his sister.

She had always been able to tell his inner turmoil when they were younger, but after coming to London, the wedge between them had clouded her insight where he was concerned. Now he knew she saw right through the stoic statue he put up.

"I have to go back to search for the journal," Jacob said. Henry looked at him sceptically,

"There will be Templars all over the place," he said.

"It can't be helped."

"Then I will go with you, brother," Evie said.

Wasting no time, he rose to gather his things and prepare the mission. When he exited the room, he looked back at Elisabeth, lying pale against the pillows.

"Watch over her, will you?" he asked Henry. "We will be gone a couple of hours" he said before closing the door behind him.

They trekked over the rooftops through the city, back to Limehouse, and St. Anne's church. The rain had stopped but the roof tiles were still wet and the water in the streets reflected the sheen of the gaslights. It was nigh fall and the city was mute and tranquil. They kept good pace, his sister might not be his equal in strength, but she still was the faster of the two. It was long since they had gone out on a mission together, and Jacob found he had missed it.

As they reached Limehouse, they approached the church with caution. Templars were exiting the churchyard, and dispersing in different directions down the streets. The search party seemed to be leaving. Evie was about to jump down from the building and confront them, but Jacob caught her arm and held her back. A couple of Templars came walking along, talking heatedly in hushed voices.

"… but we have searched everywhere! They must have found it."

"How could they? We saw them arrive. They did not go near the church. We made sure they did not have time enough!"

"I don't know how they did it, but it's not there."

"Starrick is going to be furious..."

Their voices trailed away as the men rounded the corner and disappeared. Jacob heard Evie sigh in relief. The Templars had not located the journal, and had given up the search for the night. That did not mean the area was deserted.

The graveyard was dark, the rows of gravestones standing tall and silent like sentinels over the dead, but in between them there was movement. Blighters patrolled there, under the trees. Silently, he signalled Evie, showing her the guards. Evie nodded without a word, signalling back through the darkness. There were more guards round the other side of the church. She would clear the back and meet up with him on the other side. Jacob shifted his attention to the guard closing in underneath him as Evie headed off.

When the guard was directly below, Jacob flicked his wrist. The hidden blade extended with a soft click as he dropped down on the Blighter and buried the blade in his neck. There was only a soft thud as the Blighter was plunged to the ground, but it was enough to draw another to walk in his direction. Jacob crouched down behind a large gravestone. He closed his eyes briefly, before opening them to scan the area, red figures trailing slowly through the graveyard. He unsheathed a throwing knife. Checking the area again, he flung it at the approaching guard, catching him square in the chest. The Blighter toppled over in the grass.

Jacob scanned the area again. Evie was picking her way around the back, leaving an empty wake of blackness behind her. There were no Blighters between them, and Jacob continued forward. He stole between the gravestones, black, polished pillars looming over him in the night.

Another Blighter came his way, craning his neck and searching for his fellows. Jacob crouched down behind another stone, whistling low. The Blighter turned his head and stood still for a moment, his eyes searching the darkness for its source. Then he came slowly walking through the grass, the swooshing sound growing closer with each step. Jacob grabbed and threw him to the ground. The Blighter drew a sharp breath in surprise, but when he tried to scream only gurgles left him as he choked on his own blood. Jacob retracted the blade and moved on, leaving the man to die alone.

There was a movement to his right, another figure glowing red, but the Blighter disappeared between the graves. Jacob unsheathed another throwing knife. Bending low, he snuck after him. The Blighter came into clear view for a second before disappearing behind another stone. Jacob silently cursed.

There was a muffled cry in the night. The Blighter turned sharply at the sound.

Jacob froze. Evie!

The throwing knife flew hard and fast from his hand, catching the Blighter in the back and sending him face first into the grass.

Jacob raced forward, throwing caution to the wind. Evie was in trouble, the sound of fighting reaching him from further on between the graves.

From the corner by the gate, two more Blighters came running, guns drawn. This mission was about to go south. Gunfire was sure to draw police, if not more Blighters to the site. He threw another knife, taking down another redcoat. The second Blighter froze and turned, holding on tightly to his gun and backing away, scanning his surroundings with panicked eyes. Jacob sent another knife flying and caught him directly in the face. His arm faltered and he crumbled limply to the ground.

His attention flicked back up to search for his sister, only to find a Blighter drawing his gun at her a few feet ahead.

Fear gripped him tightly as he bolted forward, tearing his feet to the ground. She was fighting off one last Blighter, oblivious to the danger. He launched through the air and struck down the shooter. The man yelled in surprise and anger, but Jacob was upon him, pommelling him into the ground. The gun was lost in the ruckus, but s fist swung and caught Jacob in the face. He scrambled to his feet, drawing the kukri. Steel glistened in the Blighters hand as well as he circled slowly.

He had no time for this. He had to get to Evie. He feigned a fall out, drawing the Blighter in. The man's face lit up in a snarl of pleasure as he launched forward. Jacob sidestepped and lodged the kukri in his back. Yanking out the blade, he bolted to the place where he had last seen his sister.

He found her between the graves, leaning over, resting her hands on her knees and breathing hard. Three blighters lay dead by her feet, a fourth a little further down the path. All was quiet. A quick scan of the area confirmed all Blighters were dead.

"Are you all right?" he said.

She threw him an irritated glare.

"Fine!" she said. "Just fine!"

She was on edge. Evie was an agile fighter and strong for a woman but facing multiple enemies was always a risk, especially in close quarters. Being shorter and smaller was always a disadvantage. She preferred to be in control of the situation, taking out one enemy at the time, staying out of their reach. This time something had gone wrong. He watched her for a minute and she straightened up, squared her shoulders and walked up to him.

"What?" she said.

He knew her well enough to know she had been afraid there for a second, but she would never admit to that. There was no reason to tell her of the shooter he had taken out.

"Nothing," he said, "should we get on?"

Together they scaled the bell tower, the ledges and embellishments of the old building giving ample support for hands and feet. In the tower, the floor bore the signs of the Templars thorough search. There were muddy footprints everywhere. Using their eagle vision, they set to explore the tower. They searched every nook, cranny and crevice for the journal, but turned up emptyhanded. There were no hollow walls, and no signature of any hidden objects in the room. They spent an hour, gradually widening their search, going through the whole tower without finding anything. Finally, Jacob gave up. Looking at his sister he said; "There are really no good hiding places here. If it were hidden here, it would have been found 15 years ago. They obviously knew to search here."Evie silently agreed. The journal was not there, and could not have been hidden there. Disheartened they left Limehouse, Evie in the direction of the train, Jacob returning to the base.

Jacob found Henry sitting in Elisabeth's room, watching over her. She was still out, and had been all the while he had been gone. He took a seat by the fire and told Henry about the conversation he and Evie had overheard, relayed the search of the tower, describing the room and its insufficient hiding places. "They knew we were coming there today, they were waiting for us, and they knew to search the tower after we had left. They must have searched the tower 15 years ago as well. It would have been the first place to look for it." Jacob stretched, feeling the muscles of his body protesting loudly at the motion; it had been a long day. "He must have hidden it somewhere else." Henry said, staring into the fire.

A few moments later Mrs. Cutler entered the room with a tray. On the small table between them, she put two bowls of warm stew, two pints of ale, a cup of broth and a loaf of bread. The broth was for Elisabeth if she woke up. Jacob was thankful for the warm food. It had been hours since dinnertime and his stomach was screaming for food. He had not felt it before sitting down by the fire, but he was famished. They ate in silence, Jacob savouring the warm food and the rich ale while keeping an eye on Elisabeth's face. She was slowly coming around. A worried frown on her forehead, she tried to move, and winced with pain. Jacob put down his empty bowl and walked to her side.

"Easy, Elisabeth, you have been stabbed. Try not to move," he said.

She opened her eyes as he sat down on the side of the bed. She drew breath in shallow gasps and her brow cringed as her eyes clenched shut. Henry handed him the cup of broth.

"You need to drink this" he said, "then I will give you something for the pain".

Supporting her back and neck, Jacob aided her in drinking. The blood loss had made her thirsty, and she emptied the cup willingly, drinking slowly from his hands. He let her lie back to rest against the pillows as Henry filled the cup with gin from a bottle on the mantelpiece. She lay with eyes closed, colour drained from her skin, her hands flexing and clenching. Supporting her back once more, he lifted the cup to her mouth. She started drinking, but after a couple of mouthfuls, she coughed, made a grimace, and tried to turn away. He smiled slightly; the girl clearly was not used to the taste of spirits.

"You need to empty the cup, Elisabeth. It will take away the pain." He spoke softly to her, as if she were a child.

She looked at him with glassy eyes and swallowed hard, then turned back to the cup and started drinking again, one small sip at the time. She finished the contents and shuddered with disgust, but kept the alcohol down. Jacob let her lie back down and watched her face as the lines of pain went away and she drifted off to sleep, her breathing deep and regular, the pulse on her throat beating calmly. Then he left her to Henry Green's care, to find his bed and some much needed rest.

/

It was winter and she was back in the alley, crouching down close to the ground, fascinated with the cold substance covering the cobblestones. A sound of stones scraping against each other, made her turn her head. Her father was there, walking towards her. He smiled at her "Stay here Elisabeth. I will be right back. Be a good girl, and don't look for me when I go."

"Don't leave me," her heart said, as he kissed her forehead, but no sound crossed her lips. She looked after him as he walked away, his silhouette the symbol of safety in her life. He had promised to return and he always held his promise. Then she turned her attention to the frost again, melting patterns in the surface with her fingers. For a while, she was absorbed with the game, until her fingers were wet and cold. Wiping her hands on her coat, she lifted her gaze to see her father climb the bell tower, his hands and feet finding sound holds all the way to the top.

/

When the pale light of dawn crept through the curtains, Jacob relived Henry Green, watching over Elisabeth. He had dozed off in the chair and was looking forward to finding the comfort of his own bed.

Elisabeth was sleeping uneasy, muttering under her breath, but the words were incoherent and without meaning to him. Her skin was flushed, an unnerving colour with the blood loss she had suffered. Feeling her forehead, a concerned wrinkle spread across Jacob's brow. She was running a slight fever.

He settled down in the chair by her bed, cleaning and honing his blades with a whetstone. The sound of the steady grinding and the repetitive movement had a soothing effect on him, but did nothing for the girl's troubled sleep. He continued his work for a couple of hours, now and then checking the girl's temperature. By then the rest of the house had woken up, and Mrs. Cutler brought them breakfast, bread and cheese for Jacob, and another cup of broth for Elisabeth.

"How is she doing?" She asked concerned.

"Not too good I am afraid. She is running a fever."

Mrs. Cutler took her leave as the girl stirred and woke, disturbed by their voices. Her face bore the lines of pain once more, the effect of the gin from last night, long gone.

"The wall" she said, "It's in the wall."

Jacob moved to the edge of her bed. She was talking nonsense, the fevered dreams playing with her mind. He gave her some more broth, and made her drink another cup of gin. Lying back down she continued to mutter about a wall. He cupped her cheek and stroked her temple soothingly to calm her down.

"Shh, Elisabeth. It is just a dream. I searched the tower; there are no hollow walls. You need to rest."

She gripped his wrist and held on tight. It seemed she found comfort in having someone close; she stopped muttering, and lay at ease. When he felt her fingers relaxing, slowly letting go of his arm he made to rise from her side. The movement stirred her, and tiered but aware she met his eyes. "Not the tower wall, Jacob" she said, "the canal wall." Her eyes held his gaze a moment until realisation hit him. Then she closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep once more.