Happy belated Christmas!

Even if you don't celebrate it, hope y'all had a fantastic holiday. This will definitely be the last chapter of 2014...but not the last! I will finish Everbound in 2015...I will.

Sorry, this chapter is quite dialogue-heavy and isn't exactly lively. But hey, never mind.

Thanks for reading, and best wishes for 2015!

HAYTHAM

"So you never knew of the Company Man?"

I sighed. For almost half an hour now, Gérald and I had been talking in circles. This so-called 'meeting' at the Davenport homestead consisted of Achilles avoiding me, the twins rushing outside to play in the snow and...well, that was about it. Sat by the bay window in Achilles' front room, Gérald and I had conversed professionally about little to do with the Brotherhood.

"I almost certainly had the name in my records," I replied, "but I was always ill-informed in terms of what the Templars did. Most likely because they knew my attitudes to slavery and the Natives. They knew I would disapprove."

Gérald nodded slowly. "It is no wonder you...never heard of Ziio's...capture."

I folded my arms, humming in bitter agreement. How ironic – it struck me suddenly – that I should miss her now. Ziio had only been absent for two and a half days, yet I had coped (albeit at the cost of my humanity) for sixteen years without her. Not that I would admit this to Gérald, nor portray any form of pining. I wondered if he felt this way when Aveline absconded on year-long missions. Perhaps their marriage would put that aside.

"Out of curiosity, did your contacts ever hear of the Virginian Brotherhood?"

Gérald shook his head. "No, I...Jack Wilding's Brotherhood are...too good at their job. Working in the shadows."

"A shame. I could have had us all out of this anarchy sooner."

An awkward pause followed, in which I looked out of the window. Aaron and Alexa were nowhere to be seen; probably venturing where I told them not to go. Somehow I wasn't too worried about them: no matter how much trouble Aaron found himself in, his sister would always lead him back. Not to mention that 'boundaries' was a foreign word to most Kenways.

"And, um...if you don't mind me asking..."

"Go on."

"Why...why is Achilles so distant with you? Or is that something I have...imagined?"

"Oh...various reasons," I replied halfheartedly. "We have – what some might call – a history."

"The history being...?"

Did Blanc deserve the truth? Yes, I supposed so. Ziio and Connor both knew the real reason for our incompatibility. No point in keeping it from the world. "You see the way Achilles walks? With a cane? Well, I was the one who caused him the casualty. I'm far from proud of it now, but in a high time of war between Assassins and Templars, Achilles was our greatest threat. Rather than kill him, I...shot Achilles in the knee, that he would remain inactive in the Brotherhood." I swallowed, unaware of how difficult it'd be to discuss. "Have I answered your question?"

If there was anything humorous about what I said, it was Gérald's utterly speechless response. He buried his chin into his blue necktie, stammering "I – uh – yes. I...never knew. But, er...the way Achilles looks at you. Cold and...angry. That is the reason?"

"Correct."

I unfolded my arms to itch my neck, uncomfortable with this topic. Now would be a perfect time for distraction...and a distraction was what I received.

From behind the steep hill outside, the faces of two horses appeared. Then the reins they were attached to...and the wheels of a large carriage. My sudden movement to look at it caused Gérald to do the same; by the time we both squinted out into the day, the whole carriage and its driver were visible. Moving slowly, mind – but visible. Knowing what this meant, my heart was at ease again, yet racing.

"It's them," Gérald murmured ecstatically.

I almost laughed in my elation. "Christ, that was quick."

From in the hallway, I heard Achilles hobble downstairs to open the door. "They're back," he called to us.

"I know," I replied. I glanced at Gérald (whose agitation was replaced by a broad smile) and nodded to him. "Shall we?"

"Bien sûr!"

We walked briskly into the hallway, where Achilles had already wedged the door open. My cloak be damned, I sped through the porch in just my shirt and waistcoat. Achilles was already out there in the snow. From behind the building the twins dashed for the halted carriage, calling like fawns finding their mother. I knew not what their Mohawk words meant; only that they reflected my joy.

The driver opened the carriage door; Ziio was the first to step down. Hood pulled back, figure willowy in her white robes, face exhilaratingly glowing. Absence truly did make the heart grow fonder.

The moment she laid eyes on me, I couldn't suppress my smile. Much worse, I found myself running towards her. She did likewise – and when we finally collided, I lifted her high in the air by the waist. Her laughter filled the rush of cold air as I spun her round, placing her back on the snow. The braggart in me wanted to see everyone's reactions – Haytham the romantic, his charms hidden under a bushel – but I was far too occupied with Ziio.

"Are you touched in the head?" she half-chuckled, half-frowned.

"I missed you too, my beloved."

As I kissed her, I made sure that it was as indelicate and heated as I dared. From the distance I heard the twins grimace, which only encouraged me tighten my hands on Ziio's waist. Her scent sinking into my skin, I finally felt cleansed. That was before I let her go, that Aaron and Alexa could have their reunion.

By the time I looked up, Aveline had already left the carriage. I walked past her murmuring sweet French nothings into Gérald's ear, and a feline satisfaction on both of their faces. Hm, perhaps Gérald wasn't completely clueless when it came to women – like I had expected.

Connor was already waiting, that narrow grin of his warmer than this winter could hope for. In the early Sundays of us being back in America, Connor would always move awkwardly – unsure of whether to hug me. Nowadays we'd both spread our arms wide, myself chuckling like it was an old reunion.

"Hello, Father." His strong hands slapped the back of my waistcoat; I returned the playful blow.

"Connor! Well, that took you no time at all."

"It felt a fortnight!" he replied, pulling back to reveal his face again. "But it is far from over – well, it's a long story. Eva wanted to discuss this inside."

Eva. I turned to see where she was, and received a surprise. Not one but two women had stepped out of the carriage. No...women? The latter looked more like an adolescent. Younger than Connor, yet definitely older than Aaron and Alexa. Her pale hands clutched a small leather book. Somehow her face seemed much paler – especially her long wavy gold hair and silver eyes. Eva guided her towards us, but the girl's face did not change: she seemed unusually solemn.

"Who's that?" I asked Connor quietly.

"This is Jasmine," he replied. "She was amongst those we aided in New York. Again, Eva will explain once we are all inside. Wait a moment – let me go and greet Achilles."

Once inside, Gérald rushed to help Achilles make tea. Personally I saw little point: this was an Assassin meeting, not a mother's gathering. We all pulled up chairs by the fire, the twins included. The said Jasmine perched herself, mint green skirts tucked under her lap. It was almost as if she was trying to box herself in. That didn't stop Aaron from sitting next to her, starting a cheerful conversation about God knew what.

Connor edged closer to me to let Alexa sit down. They began muttering in Mohawk – low, serious tones, by the sound of it – and glancing at Eva and Jasmine. Alexa was clearly confused as I was. Why was it, that whenever we went on a mission, we always brought back more people than we'd bargained for?

With Achilles and Gérald were finally in the front room (pouring tea for everyone), Aveline spoke.

"It is done. Xavier McPhearson is dead...fallen to Eva's hand."

"But," Eva continued, before anyone could comment, "as usual, there is more to this Templar's scheme than we first envisioned."

As a joint effort, Ziio, Connor, Eva and Aveline explained their mission. The Quakers were indeed murdered by McPhearson and his men. The reason – which seemed unclear at first – was that their worship hall held an escape passage for slaves, particularly the prostitutes held in McPhearson's privately owned brothels. Eva confronted and killed Xavier while still in the secret passage.

Having raided New York's Templar headquarters, they found more than just documents.

That was when Jasmine introduced herself. She spoke with surprising confidence...and her solemness was soon explained. She had quite a story; one which made me ashamed for judging her so harshly.

Jasmine's father Isaac Webb had always opposed slavery. While living in Virginia, he and McPhearson would clash with the chill of a cold sweat. But Webb knew better than violent threats, Jasmine recalled. His weapon was his inquisition. Inquisition which would bring about his downfall.

Isaac was always onto McPhearson and his kidnapping of freed slaves. Not that his daughter knew at the time, but Isaac had written a letter to the authorities warning them of Xavier's suspicious behaviour. Xavier's men intercepted it – and murdered Isaac in his own home. Right before his daughter's eyes.

Nobody dared make her delve into this memory in detail. Swallowing hard, Jasmine only said that she remembered her father hearing a knock at the door, and swiftly stashing her into a cabinet. She heard every word, and when she peeked through the keyhole, she saw a man she recognised. Someone who had confronted her father on the street.

Jasmine couldn't stifle her cries, watching Isaac choked to death. Xavier soon heard and found her hiding in the cabinet. He grabbed the girl by the flesh of her back; he threatened her not to tell a soul of their presence. Not even her mother. Being young, Jasmine believed McPhearson when he vowed to kill her and any she told, if she told. She kept her word.

Isaac's body was found three days later behind a nearby bar. No-one could determine his exact cause of death, but Elizabeth Webb knew. Her husband constantly informed her of McPhearson; of what he was capable of. She knew – being female – that to stay widowed in Virginia with a young daughter was worse than a death threat. They'd both be taken for Xavier's keeping.

And so she and Jasmine moved to New York. Elizabeth immediately bought an old building, turning it into the Quaker worship hall. Isaac's name was put on the plaque, although he clearly never owned it.

"My mother felt it was his, too," Jasmine said proudly. "So did those who worshipped there."

Elizabeth then paid for a ship, which would take her refugees to Africa. She disguised it as a slave ship bringing cargo in, but generally speaking, the public did not question the function of the worship hall. That was, until Xavier arrived in New York.

Recently informed of his merchandise going missing, he soon searched for Elizabeth. This was the part when Jasmine's voice rose an octave...but with a tone which harrowed us all. Xavier and his guards entered with muskets, and – no questions asked – fired at the dozen people present. Jasmine was forced to watch her family history repeat itself. I was amazed she was able to speak about it: when I watched my father die before my eyes, even the memory was unbearable for weeks.

"Wait," I said, a little too insensitively. "Were you the only young woman present? Would McPhearson –"

"I know what you were thinking," Jasmine cut across calmly. "Although, yes. But were you wondering why he did not kill me? Xavier had...other plans. He and his men, they...they covered my mouth – they must have done, because I woke up somewhere different. I was in the Templar headquarters: Xavier's house."

"If not for the business, why did he want you?" asked Achilles.

Jasmine looked into her skirt uncomfortably. "I...well, maybe he did. I think part of him felt that he had to spare me. I...I was his daughter, after all."

"Christ," I gasped. "What a week for you."

She sighed sadly, silver eyes sparkling with tears. "Oh no – I already knew. Mother told me...shortly after Father d –"

"Does that mean...your mother was, er..." Glancing at Aaron and Alexa, Gérald mouthed the word 'raped' across to Jasmine.

"No. Mother was unlucky enough to be charmed by him. This was while she was engaged to Father. That was all Xavier himself would reveal." She hissed to herself: "He was no more of a father than he was a good man."

Coming from a sixteen-year-old, such strong words rippled down my sine. Such courage this girl had...but how was she still sane? No doubt McPhearson kept her somewhere quiet in his household. Perhaps he planned to use her as a personal maid. I was glad never to have known this Templar. The atrocious, coldhearted snake in the grass.

"McPhearson did mention a history between himself and Elizabeth," chimed Eva. "Another reason he would have despised Isaac. He envied his marriage."

"So...what happened next?" Gérald asked, aware of how delicate this topic was.

One week passed, frightfully uneventfully for Jasmine. During this time she was told to copy out a fake map of the secret passageways, as Aveline and Gérald's 'loyal' informant told Xavier of the Assassins' coming. While Xavier hardly mistreated Jasmine (quite the opposite, she was clothed and given a warm bed), it was a confusing time for her.

When the Assassins broke into the Templar Headquarters, Jasmine was unsure what to think. Nevertheless, they offered her a way out of all this...not to mention that Eva had killed McPhearson. All this had happened only yesterday...yet here was Jasmine, speaking of it like it was old news.

I imagined what the girl would've been like naturally. Her fluency suggested a certain extroversion; perhaps confidence despite her misfortune. Obviously Eva had brought her back here for safety. But what would the Assassins do with this orphan? And what of the "unsolved mission" that Eva implied earlier?

Then – and only then – did Jasmine show us the little leather book she was holding. "This," she said, "is a written record of all McPhearson's ownership. All his businesses, how much money they make, what he buys and sells...everything."

"And...well, the pages are filled," Ziio sighed.

"Which means," added Aveline, "that to liberate every slave of McPhearson's may take years. Every month, his fleet bring in ships of slaves by the dozen. And not just girls: he owns many of the plantations, too."

"Flood..." I muttered to myself. "I knew it! I knew Flood couldn't be the sole Templar behind these plantations. McPhearson was as involved – if not more."

"But Haytham..." Ziio stopped me swiftly. "There is more to the Templar ownership than that. McPhearson was one of a network."

"But not all of them Templar, surely?"

"Not all of them Templars, admittedly," Eva replied. "But they all worked with him...the Company Man...Flood...in brutal honesty, I'm not sure where we start."

At this point there were many faces falling into laps. There were many hands reaching up to stroke pensive chins. Aaron and Alexa simply looked at each other, understanding, but clueless of the solution. Finally, Gérald spoke up.

"Well, for myself and Aveline, out first...er, priority...will be dealing with our informant."

"Some informant he was," his fiancée added spitefully. "Why is it that those I trust most betray our cause?"

A rhetorical question; one Ziio and I knew all too well. Still, this was providing no solution, so I suggested one. "Jasmine...that book is certainly a start. Now that Xavier is dead, the Assassins will have access to those headquarters."

"I don't know," she admitted. "The house will most likely be sold. Or another Templar will claim it."

"But if you are his daughter..."

She diverted her eyes.

"...Then you will be able to claim the house as part of your inheritance."

"His name was not on any of my official records. By law, he is not my father – and not by heart, for that matter."

Across the room, Eva was beginning to grasp my idea. "Aha," she hummed. "But do the authorities need to know that?"

Jasmine's skin turned the colour of cream. "I...couldn't!" she gasped. "Lie to the authorities? M-make a false birth certificate? Is that what you want me to do?"

"Only for reference," Eva reassured her. "The authorities may not even ask for it. And believe me: they are no more honest than we are."

"Eva, what you ask of Jasmine is not necessary," Connor winced. "Not after what she has experienced this week. She needs this time to clear her mind...to make sense of her losses."

"Yes, that's all very well, Connor," I protested, "but in that time, the Templars are bound to regroup. Did McPhearson not say that the headquarters were heavily guarded?"

"Father – don't." The sorrowful look in Connor's eyes said it all. "Rest or no rest, the Templars will regroup anyhow. What we need to decide is what happens to Jasmine now."

"No, you're right," Aveline chimed. She shifted to face the young girl. "First of all, where will you live? Have you any relatives in New York?"

"Not in New York, no," she murmured. "But my grandfather still lives in Virginia."

"Virginia?" Eva's eyes widened. "Perfect! You would be close to Jack...close to most of us, in fact. You would be easily monitored in Virginia. Does your grandfather know anything of...the past week's events?"

"I don't know," Jasmine despaired. "I have heard nothing for almost a week now."

"We can take her," Gérald offered immediately. "With our, er...treacherous informant, we will not be returning to Nouvelle Orleans for, er...a while, I think. Aveline?"

"Oui. Well, that solves two of our problems. What about all the slaves?"

Up to this point, Achilles had remained almost silent. "With the book that Miss Webb has shown us, we have ready access to our next missions. The brothels, we can liberate easily...but the plantations...we will need a fleet."

"The Aquila is certainly a start," Connor pointed out.

I knew that one ship would make almost no difference; we'd need an entire fleet. But where would we find such a thing?

"And I think," Achilles crooned, "that it's about time I contact our brothers in Haiti. Granted, most of them were wiped out..." He couldn't resist giving me the coldest of glares. God, I loathed that man. "Yet I am certain that some remain. And they certainly have access to ships."

"And once the slaves arrive here?" challenged Ziio. "What will they do?"

Dammit. None of us had thought of that...would it be feasible to send them all back to Africa? That was what Elizabeth Webb had done– on my opinion, her efforts were wasted. Those slaves would only face later recapture if they were not cautious. But even I had the sensitivity to keep this opinion to myself.

"Hmm...it'd be rich to ask them to join the Brotherhood," Eva frowned. "Unless...we asked them. They could refuse the offer if they wished. But therein lies the issue of accommodation. Would we have the space for them all?"

"What do you mean, 'would we have the space'?"

It was not Achilles who spoke; nor was it Connor. It was my other son. Aaron. Suddenly embarrassed that he had spoken, I beckoned him to be quiet. Of course, being Aaron, he ignored me.

"The space on this land is endless! We could build huts for them. Maybe even something bigger."

Come to think of it, he has a point. Clever child.

"Now, there's an idea." I grinned, ruffling Aaron's hair. "But what about all the rest? Even this homestead cannot host them all. Anyway, what if some don't want to live here?"

"They could live elsewhere," Aveline suggested. "I know many slaves who lead relatively normal lives. So long as they are checked on regularly by the Assassins..."

"And we will always be welcome to, er...extra hands in the business," Gérald smiled.

"Wait."

I could sense Ziio was doubtful the moment we suggested this. Now she was tense again, staring at the floorboards. "None of this will go unnoticed. The authorities will eventually discover us. And what about Flood, and all the other owners? They will only purchase more slaves as time goes on."

"We can seek the men at the same time, Ziio," Eva assured her. "And as for the authorities, we have weapons. We can fend them off."

"Eva, are you forgetting about Church? About what he did to us? To our family?"

"Nothing the Assassins do will ever be watertight." Aveline spoke not to Ziio – but to Eva. "But we can try."

That statement seemed to hit Eva square in the chest: her lips fell open delicately. Like a curse to her own name, she stammered: "I – you're right. All these years, we have been concerned for security – rightly so. But no place on Earth can guarantee anyone safety from injustice. Hm. I sent the twins away, thinking it would keep them safe...when in reality, it did nothing for their welfare."

No...

I knew what Eva meant. I could see straight through her hints. She was suggesting that she wanted the twins back. She wanted to take my children – my son and daughter – back under her care. On the chair, I felt myself slipping away from the group. I envisioned that Aaron and Alexa were not here beside me...but on Eva's seat.

I never knew how much I feared losing them until this moment. I was no sentinel...but my fear showed through. "What are you implying?" I snapped at Eva. "That my care for the twins is improper?"

"I neither said nor suggested it," Eva snorted. "And the twins are only living with you as a trial, remember?"

"If you wanted the trial to cease, you should have said so earlier," I snarled. "You have left it too long – and now they know me as their guardian."

In my blind defensiveness, I almost forgot that the children were sat right by me. Both looked up at my face with a sort of disappointment. A fear, almost. It was nothing on Ziio: her jaw was clenched as if ready to bite. Connor was the only one who looked calm. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Please! We came here to resolve, not to argue. Eva, Father does not mean those words. He is merely afraid of losing Aaron and Alexa. Now please, can we return the focus to Jasmine?"

"Yes – sorry." A bright shade of red pinched at my cheeks. Why did I have to be so damned oppugnant?

"Ignoring him," Achilles cut across pointedly, "tell us what you require, Miss Webb. The homestead is open to you for as long as you like. Will you stay here tonight?"

"Th-thank you, Mister Davenport...one night would be just fine."

"I will escort her to Virginia tomorrow," Aveline promised. "And once Gérald and I return to New Orleans, we will gather our allies...inform them of what has passed. This mission has provided a future for both our divisions."

"You will come back?" Connor asked her.

Aveline's scarred lip broke into a grin. "Why, of course! I am your 'brother', yes?"

"Likewise. And you, Jasmine?"

The girl shifted, not uncomfortably, in her seat. "I hope so. I am glad to have found people who will tell me the truth. And...if ever I am needed in Virginia, I would be happy to help. I owe the four of you."

"There'll be plenty of opportunity to help us," said Eva. "This liberation will take years, after all."

Deep inside, I knew she was right. I didn't want this mission to take years. All I wanted now was to retire; to lead a normal life with my family. Then again, what counted as normality? Chaos seemed to be my default, and while it did not stress me, it hardly relaxed me either. What our family needed was a simple form of entertainment. Children were not meant to sit in Assassin meetings. They were not meant to hear their parents talk of death plots; of rape and murder. It baffled me how they both remained so innocent.

But as we had seen with Jasmine Webb, even the innocent were hunted by fate. If Eva was suggesting that the twins weren't safe, my only desire was to protect them. But how? I was probably the Templar's most wanted. Surely I couldn't do both: serve the Brotherhood, as well as my family.

Hearing Jasmine's unfortunate childhood only troubled me. If there were no attacks on me now, this had to be the calm before the storm.