Hiya! So I know I'm supposed to be on hiatus, as announced on tumblr (long story :P) but I did have some time to write the next chapter! :D so we haven't had a Ziio chapter in ages...voilà!

Hmm...I feel like I'm forgetting something REEEEAAAALLY important.

*lightbulb* Oh yes!

Thanks to you guys – that's you, you and YOU...Everbound is now the most reviewed Hayziio story on fanfic dot net! Wow. I'm getting all emotional now...so thank you all. Seriously. Go give yourselves a cookie. And eat it while reading the chapter...

Love and hugs!

ZIIO

"This is it."

Aveline's breath frosted over a sign on the window. It announced this battered building: 'Religious Society of Friends: Hall of Worship'. The reflection in the window pane was that of a desolate street. It surprised me, for New York on a Monday.

Eva moved to test the door; it swung open effortlessly. She tutted to herself, then turned to Aveline. "Unlocked. Are you certain this is the right building? It seems a little too...quiet for the scene of a murder."

"The murders were five days ago. And this address was very specific."

"If you're sure. I'll go in," Eva offered. "I'll see if there's a soul in there. Who knows what traps the Templars have set?"

"Eva, we cannot confirm that the Templars were behind this," Ratohnhaké:ton put in.

Ignoring him, she left the three of us in the icy street. Aveline must have shivered, unused to our northern winters, because I twitched my mouth at her. She was obviously surprised to see me interact: for almost the entire journey, I had not spoken to Aveline at all.

"Tell me." It was unclear whether she addressed me, or Ratohnhaké:ton. "How long has Haytham been an Assassin?"

"Since we returned to the colonies," my son replied. "When was that, November? Two months."

"You never mentioned it when I saw you last."

"I thought you knew."

Aveline pursed her already large lips. "Non. Even if I had heard, it would still surprise me. Master Kenway always seemed so ardent in the Templar Order."

"And more ardent still toward my mother," Connor snorted, disgusted by his own sentence. In truth, so was I: my head spun to him, a heavy glare painted on my face.

"You?" The young woman's tone rose. "His conversion was down to you?"

"I – no, I-"

"Yes."

"Ratohnhaké:ton!" I protested.

"No, believe me," he murmured, before addressing Aveline again: "I was on that ship with Father for months. I even asked him if he would convert to the Brotherhood, if it meant he could save you. And he said –"

At that exact moment, Eva emerged from inside the hall. Her cheeks were bright as cherries; I supposed it wasn't much warmer inside than out here. "It's empty. This way." She indicated the door, tilting her hood so she saw us.

Gratefully, we stepped into a slightly warmer worship hall. The aura of it, however, was far from warm. Not only was it painted cold colours: blue, white and grey, but there was a certain tension present. Almost as if someone had just died here...and that was partly true. There were very few objects in the room: only scriptures placed on three pews either side, a large shelf by the door and a wooden bookcase.

"That plaque over there," Eva said, pointing to a wooden sign on the wall, "tells me that this worship hall was owned by Isaac Webb. He was robbed of life many years ago, but his wife was among those murdered here."

'Robbed of life'? To me, that sounded unnerving. "How did he die?"

"Nobody knows." Eva's auburn eyebrows flexed doubtfully. "That is exactly what troubles me. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it was Xavier, the bastard."

Ratohnhaké:ton nudged her arm. "Eva – please don't swear in a place of worship. I thought you never cursed anyhow."

"Sorry, Connor. But what I want to discover is what business Xavier would've had with these people. Aveline, do you have any evidence?"

"Yes. Our informants in New York report disappearances of escaped slaves, and some pale women too. Isaac Webb's wife worked closely with our allies after her husband's death. Is that of any use to you?"

I lingered at the back of the group, drinking in the building. Where I walked, there were still traces of dried blood in the floorboard crevices. Even the chipped ash pew was tainted with red blotches. How many had died here? Seven? Eight? A dozen? Were there children, too? No wonder the hall was empty: hardly any could bear to face the tragedy.

"Mother?" Ratohnhaké:ton's huge hand on my shoulder awoke me. "Did you hear that? Eva wants us to split and search."

"Sorry. Search for what?"

"Clues of any kind," Eva replied.

"How can we look for clues if we don't know what to look for?" I retaliated. "There is evidence that McPhearson was behind this, but no proof. It could have been the British. Achilles did say that they defeated the Patriots here."

Eva ignored me; I felt a frustrated growl itching to leave my throat. Why were my opinions constantly blanked? It had nothing to do with my race – I knew that – for Eva was not one to judge. Was it because she had ideas of her own? Clearly. She headed for the bookcase determinedly.

Come to think of it, why was there a bookcase there? It only held around a dozen books, all on the middle shelf. Why not keep them on the raised shelf by the door?

Curious, I ran my fingers along the spines of the books. I soon picked up more than just a layer of dust: they were in alphabetical order. I was unsure if that meant anything – all the books in George's library in Philadelphia were is complete disarray. 'A', 'B', 'C'...at the letter 'I', my fingers stopped. There was a blank book, with a thicker spine than the rest. I assumed that the author's name had simply eroded away. That was when I noticed something else: a leaf of parchment protruding from the top. Gingerly, I pulled it from the pages to have a look.

When I did, an elation filled me like hot air: I had done something useful on an outside mission, for perhaps the second time. "Look," I whispered to Eva excitedly. "Ratohnhaké:ton, Aveline! I've found something."

The three of them gathered around my shoulders to see it. Somehow it reminded me of one of my first missions with Haytham, with a map between our fingers. This was also a map. It took me a while to adjust to, because the ink was so condensed like vapour.

"What are those landmarks?" I asked. "Do they represent this district?"

"Maybe," Aveline hummed. "But what is that?"

Her bronze finger pointed to a large black 'X'. I squinted to look closer, then saw that the street bore a great resemblance to the one we stood in. "It's here. It is in this building," I replied.

Somehow, I had an inkling of what the 'X' meant. It was an instinct; a different sense. But I knew what we needed to do. "Ratohnhaké:ton, move that bookcase."

He and Aveline stood at either edge, pulling the entire shelf back. Only Aveline's side of the case was moving; my son soon stopped. "It's a hinge. The case itself is a door."

"Exactly," I affirmed. "And look: here on the map, there is an isolated shipyard. If this map is a secret passage, it must lead to the docks."

"Of course!" Aveline rushed back to inspect the map, and her voice rose in revelation. "I knew it. This worship hall was an escape passage for slaves!"

"Let's see this passage then." Somehow, Eva's tone was wary. Even beneath her hood, there was a darkness to her eyes. "I would be surprised if it was locked."

She was right: the gaping hole in the wall was low on the ground, only about four feet wide. A shroud of shadows cloaked any perception. How deep was it?

"I will find a candle," Ratohnhaké:ton offered. "Wait here."

With him gone and Aveline staring into the tunnel, Eva nudged me meaningfully.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she whispered.

"That something is out of place here? Yes."

"It seems almost too quiet. Too easy for –"

She stopped – thinking Aveline was looking at us – when she was in fact adjusting her tricorne hat. We stood in silence for a moment; I absorbed Eva's cynicism. Why was this tunnel not guarded? If we had worked out that the bookcase was there for a reason, surely the enemy would've done as well?

Who was behind all this? The British or the Templars?

Ratohnhaké:ton returned with a lit candle and a box of matches. He pointed it into the void, only to find a set of stone steps. I leaned into the yellow candlelight – and the chill of the cellar settled on my clothes like snow. That was to say nothing of the dust – I was amazed that I didn't cough or gag.

"Alright," Eva breathed. "We must be cautious. Aveline, keep your flintlocks at hand. Ziio, you take the map. We'll follow your lead, Connor.

Ironically, I noticed a marking on the map only after we descended into darkness. It was a signature – such a loopy scrawl that I could barely read it. I showed it to Eva, who stopped on the step.

"E. Webb. Could that be Isaac's wife?"

I did not reply: I was wondering whether all the people killed in the worship hall were part of this. Was this something that only the Webbs were responsible for, or did all the other Quakers have an input hiding this tunnel?

It seemed to go on forever: we were walking for at least fifteen minutes. Although the stairs eventually turned to flat ground, it was no warmer. With every step, I now felt water battling my boots. No wonder it was flooded: we were near the sea. At least, that was what the map said. Just as predicted, we turned another corner. That was when I halted. Like icy pins prickling my spine, distant whispers hit me.

"What was that?"

"What?" Eva retorted.

"Ssh – listen. That."

The three other Assassins glanced at each other, then shook their heads. "There is no-one here but us," Aveline announced.

But I was certain I'd heard something...someone. Eva herself had admitted that it seemed odd, that the mission was this easy. Why could nobody else hear? Distant whispers, movements, scuffling echoing through the walls?

Now I could hardly hear anything, but the sloshing of water around my shins. It was becoming harder and harder to read the map, because Ratohnhaké:ton kept wading further and further ahead. It soon became apparent why.

"There!" exclaimed Aveline. "An exit!"

"Again, not locked," Eva added sceptically.

"Supposing this is one of McPhearson's traps, then we are sure to overcome it," Ratohnhaké:ton reassured. "But if it gives you peace of mind, I will scout ahead with Mother."

I nodded, handing the map to Eva and catching up with Ratohnhaké:ton. Eva was right to be suspicious: the exit was the same as the entrance: a gaping hole up a set of stone steps. Would it be inside a building? Outside, in the docks? Was it always open, or had the Templars knocked down the door? Regardless, we would be out of this cold.

"Watch your step," I warned my son in Mohawk.

"Do not be concerned, Ista," he whispered back. "I am not a child."

A heavy sinking feeling followed. The sad truth was, I was a mother who had not witnessed her child growing up. Occasionally when I addressed Ratohnhaké:ton, it was with the same brooding tone as when he was four years old. "Sometimes I forget how long it has been."

For a moment the light blinded us, but when I blinked again, it was clear that we weren't outside. We climbed the final steps – peeking into the hole from the edges – and saw nothing but an empty room. It resembled a warehouse: a wooden, weather-bitten warehouse half the size of a Mohawk hut. Though unlit, the creaks of sunlight through the boards showed a few crates in the corner. Stacked beside them were naval supplies: lengths of rope, hooks, blankets and even dry food rations. Given the stench of damp wood, this cabin hadn't seen a person in weeks.

When Eva emerged with Aveline, her first instinct was to look above for men waiting to pounce. Giving us the all-clear that we already knew, she sighed. "So this was where the slaves were evacuated."

"How did Elizabeth's work go unnoticed for so long?" Aveline marvelled. "To the worship hall, the docks, then to the ship...surely they would have been guessed sooner?"

"Perhaps they were," I added grimly. "Remember, Isaac Webb was killed in mysterious circumstances."

"Wait. None of it makes sense."

We all turned to Eva, stood by the door tentatively. "What?"

"Look here, on the map. The warehouse is twice the size of this room." She flipped it over to face us. "Are you certain that this is the right building? There were no...side routes in the tunnel? Only –"

"Now!"

Eva was silenced at once. Alarmed, the four of us swivelled to the source of the voice. The next we heard was a thundering of heavy boots, ascending the stairs. My heart began to echo their thundering. I had suspected this twist all along; now, we would be cornered.

"Get back!" I yelled at Eva.

But she had already darted back upon instinct; drawn her hidden blades. "I knew it," she cursed angrily. "Draw your weapons!"

"There they are!"

Before I could even eject my hidden blades, at least six men in dark cloaks flooded through the hole. Immediately Aveline was upon them, drawing her pistol. Like the weapon's thunderclap, one of the men crashed to the floor. But he was instantly replaced: at least four more had joined this hen coop.

Time to do my job.

I sprung upon one of them – blades unsheathed – but was deflected by his sword. I ducked, avoiding two men's swords at once, then plunged one blade each into their chests. Soon the din of dying cries; of flesh scraping against sword, filled the miserable hut. Instinctively I searched for Ratohnhaké:ton, but he was all right. Blood flying from his tomahawk, it met the neck of the nearest soldier.

I was distracted long enough to be gashed in the side. I gasped shortly, a sharp sting filling my skin. But it was bearable. I turned to the man who caused it and – almost effortlessly – deflected his blow to swipe his throat. Like red moss on a snow-covered tree, my robes were blotted with his blood. How many more were there?

Five.

Eva was busy with two of them at once; I moved to help her out. My blades were thickened with blood already, but that didn't stop me from stabbing this soldier's neck. He mewled like a defeated doe and keeled over.

Four more. No, three: Aveline had dealt with another. Ratohnhaké:ton was parrying one; Eva battling the other. Where was the third?

"Aveline! Behind you!" I cried sharply.

With youthful speed I could only wish for, she spun, kicking the man in the stomach then pouncing with her blade. She leapt back up, evidently flustered regardless of her skin tone. "Thank you," she heaved.

How much more of this could we take? Moreover, how many more bodies would this floor hold? There was barely any space to walk amongst the heap.

There was no need to worry. The sound of Ratohnhaké:ton's final defeat resonated. He inspected his tomahawk disgustedly, wiping the blood with his glove. Breathless, we all looked at each other. That was close. Wherever these bounties came from, there were seemingly no more. So why was adrenaline still searing in me, like the graze in my skin?

"Ziio, are you hurt?" Eva panted.

"No. A scratch," I affirmed, inspecting my robes disinterestedly. There was no obvious sign of bleeding. Not my blood, anyhow.

"Where were they hiding?" Aveline mused. "You would have thought the candle could see them."

"You see? I was certain I heard something ahead. Why would none of you listen to me?"

No time for apologies: my ears pricked to the sound of more footsteps. This time I wasn't the only one who heard: Eva withdrew her blades again. "What was that?"

My muscles turned to rock. Luckily it sounded like only one pair of feet...but a pair of feet which ran. "Ready yourselves," I whispered.

"No – not yet," Eva commanded.

"What?" I barked. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Ssh!"

I was furious with her broken logic, but soon found that it was not so broken. The face who appeared at the hole was different to the rest: his coat was of a deeper blue; his breeches – though damp from the tunnel – were of a richer fabric. He wore a short grey queue behind his head, with a scraggly moustache and an infuriated face.

"All of them dead?" he barked, as if to himself. But when his colourless eyes scanned the four of us, the unpredictable happened. He laughed. Not even that: it was more of a cackle. I looked across at Eva...and my assumptions were correct. The scowl on her face was more hateful than I'd ever seen her. Teeth bared like a cougar, her glare was unwavering on the man.

This had to be him. Xavier McPhearson.

I imagined how I would feel if my attacker walked into this warehouse. I imagined the fiery heights of my fury; of my loathing. Subconsciously, I adopted a frown similar to Eva's.

"Well, well...Evangelina Stirling." His accent was English, and extremely arrogant.

"Xavier."

He swaggered towards her, almost amused. "I knew I recognised your catty little voice."

"And yet..." Eva spread her arms wide, indicating the fusion of bodies and blood. "You had all your mercenaries do the dirty greetings for you. How admirable."

Xavier kicked the nearest corpse, watching it paint the floor red. He chuckled grimly. "That took you no time at all. Some asset you must be to the Assassin cause."

"You sound surprised."

It was like watching a rut: around the bodies on the floor, the two of them began to circle one another. The clench in Eva's forehead only tightened as the Templar came closer. "Don't fool me into thinking I should be afraid," he snarled, almost into her ear. "I know what you are capable of. Journeying to England. Slaughtering your own father –"

"Emmanuel Waters had no right," Eva sneered, "to call me his daughter. No more right than you had to call me your wife!"

"In no way a devastation to either of us." Xavier looked down at the woman, snickering at the hatred bubbling in her. The way he looked at Eva's heaving chest made me want to vomit. Seeing a woman I respected so much regarded as so inferior...it was was no wonder that Ratohnhaké:ton, Aveline and myself looked (and felt) prepared to pounce on him.

"And you thought," he hissed sourly, "that Emmanuel's downfall would bring anarchy to our Order. You struck us hard, Miss Stirling..." He let go of his sword, reaching for his face. He pulled back a few strands of his hair to reveal a deep dent in his head. "But as usual, not quite hard enough."

Suddenly Eva lunged at him, an inhuman growl leaving her lips. Xavier hopped backwards, as if this was all a game. Eva couldn't get to him: Ratohnhaké:ton snatched at her arms to restrain her.

"Stop!" he commanded. "What business did you have with those innocents, McPhearson?"

"Oh, they were far from innocent." He folded his arms matter-of-factly. "Not to mention a certain...history...between myself and Miss Elizabeth."

"You bastard!" Eva screamed, struggling uncontrollably. "You callous, perverted bastard!"

It was unnerving, wondering what McPhearson would do next. Whatever I'd anticipated, it did not consist of swiping the map from the floor. He wrung it out with his fists – blood-soaked – and held it up to Eva's face.

"You truly thought that this was the real map?"

"It's fake," I breathed.

"The savage speaks the truth. Although it's partially fake. I added nothing false to it...I just...refrained from copying everything. Such as the dugout my men had built when they heard you were coming."

"You knew? How?" Aveline demanded angrily.

McPhearson turned on his heel. "Some of your informants aren't as loyal as you'd hoped."

I watched the indignation – the denial – unfurl in Aveline's face. She soon recovered, growling: "Where is the real map? And why do you defend this place so heavily?"

"The Webbs had long been a threat to my business. It is the only thing which keeps our Order alive! I couldn't afford any more escapees. First, the death of the Company Man. Now...this. I had no choice but to burn the map." He paused to laugh at himself, which only deepened our abhorrence. "But I know what you're thinking, Miss de Grandpré. You wonder why I stay to torment you further, when I should be running for my life."

I knew the catch before he said a word: there were more guards down there. More mercenaries, only waiting to battle us out. But how many more? Would it be a problem? I readied myself, staring at the hole intently.

"Now!" Xavier roared.

I jumped, my heart suddenly racing again. McPhearson's men came not from the hole...but from the door behind me. They'd been waiting in the other room all this time? But I already had my weapons poised. Ratohnhaké:ton released Eva, and at once he was in combat with another bounty.

Crash. Crash. Two of them bowed to Aveline's smoking pistol. I reached for my own, quickly reloading it...but could I really take down these men? Granted there were only four of them...but I was sure McPhearson had kept them separate for a reason. Were they some kind of elite?

No. The only difference was that they had muskets.

One of the guns stared me in the eye; like a wildcat I sprung at its owner, burying my left-hand blade into his torso. He yelped, along with three of his dying comrades. The fourth had already succumbed.

Quickly I retracted my dripping blade; whipping to face Eva. But she was gone...and so was Xavier.

"Where did they go?" I demanded of Ratohnhaké:ton.

"Eva went to chase him," he replied.

"Coward!" Aveline hit her hand against her fist, then reached to pull up her hat. "Let's show him what it costs to run from the Brotherhood."

But when we found him, our work was already done.

Away from the watery part of the tunnel, we met the pair of them again. Xavier lay on the passage floor, his throat oozing cruel blood. The moisture dripping from the ceiling washed it towards my feet. I leaned into the almost pitch darkness, to find that he was still moving. Eva knelt beside him, but I couldn't see her facial expression.

"Don't be deceived," he spluttered. "The Templars are dormant, not extinct. We're...biding our time..."

"Where are the records of all your brothels?" Eva challenged.

"In my study...New York Templar headquarters..." His eyes began to flicker like lifeless candles. "Heavily guarded..."

"We shall rectify that," Eva muttered. "You have seen what the Brotherhood can do."

Xavier gulped whatever air he could breathe, shuddering as if he'd been stripped bare in the snow. With a heave, he struggled his last words: "The floodgates can't hold us forever. Boiling water will be released, and all the world...shall feel our anguish."

The last his glass eyes saw were eight more, loathing back at him. Four cloaked figures – condemning him like spirits – united in his downfall. Unstoppable. Untouched...and with more information than we had bargained for.

Xavier's death was an asset to us all.