Chapter Five:
A Modern Frankenstein
London, England, 1943
The next morning, Mary awoke with a hangover and a sore right arm. With an irritated groan, she rose from her cot and stretched, ignoring the added sharpness and stiffness of her reopened wound. The window was open to let a draft in the room that wasn't particularly unpleasant. In fact, Mary enjoyed the early morning breeze. She could smell from within the last droplets of rain and the puddles that had formed on the cobbles. Despite the overcast sky, the city was abuzz with life as people began their daily routines.
Mary rolled her shoulders, her teeth gritting when her muscles protested, then found her way to the table. She grabbed a small piece of toast that was a bit cold from sitting out and bit into it while she strode to the fire and took the kettle from its perch to keep warm, then returned to the table and poured herself some tea. Mary had just seated herself when Katherine, who'd been absent from the room, entered through the door. She was already fully-dressed and looked like she'd been awake for a while.
Katherine smirked the moment she saw Mary and shut the door firmly behind her. "You look like a mess," she stated with the bluntness of paddle. "I just returned from the apothecary. I'm going to make you a tonic."
"Dannae need it, lassie," replied the Scot, who took a sip of her tea indignantly. "I'm fine. Yer worries are misplaced."
"Oh, really?" Katherine said, her voice a few octaves louder than it needed to be.
Mary nearly cringed when her head pounded. "Aye," grumbled Mary. "Really. Now would ye keep yer voice down? Our poor neighbours might be a wee bit annoyed tae be woken up by a loud American. Yer not helping out yer people's public image."
"Neither are you, Mary." Katherine glowered at the Scot as she set down the wrapped packages she'd brought in. Mary could have kicked herself for not noticing. Hangovers, especially of the Scottish variety, were not ideal for an Assassin's career. "Do you even get phased by whiskey? Or vodka, for that matter? Or is it all water to you?"
"Tae tell ye the truth, lassie, it goes out easier than it comes in."
The corner of Katherine's upper lip twitched with disgust. "Mary, you're really a man, aren't you?"
"I'll have ye know that most Scottish men find me very attractive, Miss Prince."
"But most civilized women don't belch like sailors!"
Mary grinned. "Point for ye, lassie, but most civilized women also dannae try tae track down the murderer of their brothers and become part of a secret cult. Peas in the pod, ye and I."
Katherine pursed her lips. Instead of answering, she simply sat, poured herself some tea, and began unwrapping the packages. Mary's nose scrunched at a lot of the smells that were coming from them, and decided to mask it with more tea. By the time Katherine had them all unwrapped, Mary was on her second cup and third piece of toast.
"How's your arm?" asked Katherine.
Mary flexed it. "All right. Might need some more time tae heal though. Hardly matters."
"I'm making a salve, too. While I'm at it I may as well re-stitch it—."
"That mean I need tae grab something tae drink from downstairs?"
"Absolutely not."
With a cocky grin, Mary took another sip of tea and watched as Katherine began working at the plants and salts and whatever else was there that Mary had little-to-no knowledge of.
"I thought ye worked with poisons, lassie. Not poultices."
Katherine spared Mary a glance for a moment. "To test poisons, I also need to create antidotes. I studied with field doctors and professors of the medical trade to learn all I could. No point testing a rash poison on someone if they won't stop itching until their flesh is gone. And it offers me an opportune time to make sure the antidote works."
"Now I'm glad yer brothers have been spared yer sneaky ways."
"For now. I'm wondering if I shouldn't use some sort of poison on the Assassin-hunter though."
Mary's blue eyes narrowed at the American girl. "Ye want yer enemy tae suffer?"
Defensively, Katherine replied, "This bastard murdered my brothers—!"
But Mary had none of that. "Oh, aye, that makes a difference. I'll tell all the other people, innocent and otherwise, tae holster their guns so they can make way for yer all-important twally arse. I mean, ye must be the only one tae have lost someone dear tae this boggin' bastart! Who am I tae stop or judge ye!"
Katherine slowed in her motions. The mortar and pestle in her hands were clenched in her white-knuckled fists. "It's... It's not just for me!"
"I dannae care who it's for, lassie! An Assassin doesnae let their enemy suffer! Naw matter what!"
"Well, what about what you did with Lee? What the hell was he screaming about?"
Mary pursed her lips. "Dinnae ye hear him? He thought I was the Assassin-hunter."
"He recognized you from somewhere. If he only thought you were the Assassin-hunter, he wouldn't have picked you out, even when you yelled at him. He'd think you were a drunk woman until he'd see your robes, and by then I would have dragged him outside."
"Aye, but we needed him far away from the Lamb and Flag. It was the only sure way naw one would be watching."
Katherine levelled a glare at Mary, but gave up her questions, at least for the hour. It concerned her how little Katherine actually knew about Mary, enough that she wasn't sure if Joseph Hall had been wise in pairing them. The Highlander was deadly, a natural strategist (even though Katherine admitted Mary was, indeed, shockingly brilliant in how boisterous she was), and very strict with the Creed. At the same time, Mary appeared arrogant and fairly snide when she didn't want to answer questions, like she was either used to keeping secrets or was simply not eager to share her life's story. It would make Katherine more comfortable about the person she was seated across from though.
Mary was already dressing into her clothes, which were dried from last night thanks to the warmth of the fire, though Katherine noticed how Mary had set her shirt and coat on the windowsill before slipping them on. Perhaps it was some Scottish form of luck? Regardless, Katherine voiced her concerns that Mary would catch an illness, considering how the rain had pelted them that night. But Mary simply sighed and replied, "Well, why's the window open, then?"
Katherine had felt the room was stuffy, but she got Mary's point and was silenced once again.
Fully dressed, Mary approached the table again and observed Katherine as she finished the tonic and poultice. Mary took the small bottle of tonic and examined the clear liquid inside.
"I can drink this?" she asked the American.
Katherine nodded. "Yes. Just try not to drink it all in—."
Mary tossed the contents into her mouth and swallowed it all at once. She made a face when the taste finally hit her. "Och, God! It tastes like sour grapes and mint!"
"It would have tasted better if you'd let me finish my sentence!" growled Katherine. "Now I'll fix up your stitches. Try not to complain too loudly."
Half an hour later, Katherine and Mary left the Lamb and Flag with their luggage to a car outside. The driver was a middle-aged man who smoked a pipe regularly, as was evident from his yellowed fingernails, but he appeared to shave well and was pleasant enough.
"Where to?" he asked politely once the two were seated in the back.
"Putney Railway Station, please," Katherine answered.
The man nodded and set the car in gear. Katherine leaned back against her seat and felt an urge to close her eyes to sleep through the trip, but oddly the hair on the back of her neck was standing up. Something didn't feel quite right. She noticed Mary felt the same.
Mary was taking note of the windows, the space of the cab, the driver, and the roads outside. Something felt wrong, but she couldn't put her thumb on it. Then the Scot noticed a man waving the cab down and she asked the driver to pull over for him. With a pointed glare Mary locked her gaze with Andrew Lee, his luggage packed and ready to leave.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?!" she snarled at the man.
Lee clenched his fists. "It's better for us to be travelling together! Splitting up will have us all..." He lowered his voice so the driver would be less likely to hear. "Killed."
"We're more likely to be killed now that you've shown up," said Katherine.
Lee sat in the passenger's side in the front. "We'll part ways at the station, so don't you worry. We're just sharing cab fare for now."
Mary exhaled through her nose and waved the driver on. The streets in London weren't as busy the way they were heading, which gave them ample time to hurry. Katherine had unfolded the morning paper and was about to settle down to read when something in the rear-view mirror caught her eye: a car behind them, which had tinted windows and looked fairly expensive. Alarms went off in her head, and a glance at Mary assured her that she wasn't the only one feeling the sudden goosebumps on her arms.
Mary leaned forward towards Lee. "Mister Lee," she whispered, "keep yer head down."
Lee slid down in his seat a bit.
"Driver," said Mary, "it looks like our friends behind us are trying tae catch up. Could ye slow down a wee bit?"
He nodded and pulled over to the side of the road, where the car continued in a crawl. The second car slowly moved ahead of them. One of the windows were down, and within, Mary could see Richard Cole smirking at her.
The driver continued once the Templars had passed, but now their roles were reversed—the Assassins followed the Templars now. But Mary had no intention of tailing them, even when they turned a sharp corner.
Katherine glared at Mary. "Aren't we going to follow them?"
"No," answered Mary. "They want that. We'll be fighting a losing battle if we follow them tae their home."
Then, as the car began to speed up with the countryside in view, something landed on the roof. Surprised, the driver yanked the wheel to the side with his foot still on the pedal, and the next thing the Assassins knew the car had rolled. Glass flew everywhere, and one shard punctured the driver through the throat. Twisted metal wound its way around the doors, making them difficult to open. The car laid on its right side, and Mary was lying on top of Katherine. Andrew Lee had a few glass shards in his arm, but didn't appear to be hurt seriously.
"Mary!" Katherine gasped. "Are you all right?!"
"Ugh..." Mary shook her head to rid herself of some dizziness. "Fit as a fiddle, lassie..." She glanced at the door above her. "Katherine, I'm gonna try tae kick the door open, aye?"
When Katherine nodded, Mary adjusted herself, aimed at the weakest point in the door, and shot her legs out. A few strong hits and the door flew open. Mary climbed out, careful of the glass that surrounded the area, and looked down at Katherine.
"Lassie, give me Lee," she said.
Katherine cautiously helped Lee out the window. The man was cradling his wounded arm, but thankfully he hadn't been hurt beyond that. As soon as he'd been taken to a relatively safe distance Mary returned and hoisted Katherine out of the car.
"Get to Lee," Mary said. "We're getting out of here."
Abandoning their luggage, Mary and Katherine grabbed Lee and hurried into a winding alleyway. Lee was beginning to lose a fair amount of blood, and that left Katherine and Mary to figure out a plan. They'd been ambushed—no doubt by Templars—but whomever had been on top of the car had flown off when the driver panicked. The Assassins needed to get lost in a crowd.
Gunshots sounded. Lee gasped as a bullet entered his brain and he fell dead on the ground. Katherine shouted when two more entered her left shoulder and sent her sprawling on the ground. Mary moved quickly to grab Katherine and yank her into cover, then chanced a look over her shoulder to try to identify their assailant, yet there was no one. Well, street-level, anyhow. Mary looked up and saw a man in a heavy black overcoat with a cowl drawn over his head and a mask covering his face, up to his nose. The Templar crest was blatant on his shoulder, as was the gun in his hand.
The gun lowered, and the man stepped off the roof. He plummeted to the ground and landed hard on his feet, but didn't appear to be in any sort of discomfort from the landing. He then began his slow march forward toward the Assassins. Mary's rage boiled in her veins at the mere sight of him.
Katherine clutched her shoulder and tried to apply pressure to her wound. She was too shocked to cry from the stinging pain but was glad of it, since she had no intention to let Mary poke fun at her for it. Just as she thought of Mary, Katherine looked at the Scot. She was frozen in her place, struggling with herself. With one hand she had her gun and the other was holding Katherine's arm.
Mary managed to gather some sense of herself and looked at Katherine. "Katherine," hissed Mary, "run. We're not ready for this yet."
Katherine, of course, knew exactly what Mary meant, but she felt the need to confirm it with her own eyes. She glanced over the garbage bin they took cover behind and saw the Assassin-hunter stepping over Andrew Lee's body. The hunter slowly and deliberately slid his rapier out from its sheathe on his hip as he advanced.
He came too close for comfort. Mary grabbed her weapon and fired four times, hitting him square in the chest with each shot. He hollered and dropped to one knee, but after a few painful seconds her staggered to stand and continued his dread march.
"Holy God..." Katherine whispered.
Mary stepped out from behind cover. "Go! I'll distract him! I'll catch up!"
"Are you insane—?!"
Mary drew her sword and lifted Katherine to her feet. "I said go, lassie!"
Katherine was loathe to, and as per her usual defiance she grabbed her gun and fired a few more shots at the approaching Templar, one managing to hit him squarely in the forehead. He collapsed in a heap on the ground.
"We're partners, Mary!" Katherine shouted at the Scot. "Stop giving me orders and start working with me! Besides, that bastard's the one who killed my—!"
"GODDAMMIT, WE NEED TO MOVE!" Mary nearly shoved Katherine away from the Assassin-hunter in an effort to escape. Confused, Katherine held her ground.
"What the hell are you yelling about?! He's down!" she argued.
There was horror in Mary's eyes. Horror and grief that Katherine couldn't understand. But before Katherine could even give Mary a chance to explain, there were more gunshots. Mary shouted and stumbled back. Two bullet wounds bled from her right thigh, but she managed to keep standing. She reached to grab Katherine as the American turned, shocked by the sudden attack, and then she realized Mary's horror.
The Assassin-hunter was on his knee again, his gun pointed at Katherine as he looked down the sights. She could just barely see a thin trail of blood from his forehead that stained his mask. She was petrified by the sight of him.
With a swift but staggering speed Mary leapt forward with her sword and knocked the weapon out of the Assassin-hunter's hand then drove her sword into his back, pinning him to the ground. When she yanked it out of him she kicked him hard in the face then spun and grabbed Katherine, and they began to flee.
But Katherine couldn't shake the sight of the Assassin-hunter that burned like a brand in her mind. Shot seven times, once in the head, and still alive, still marching towards his target.
The man that killed her brothers was a monster.
The man that was targeting both Katherine and Mary was an unstoppable, unbeatable monster.
Just what have the Templars done? she wondered. What horrors have they committed?
The answer was waiting in Auschwitz.