Hey guys!
Here is another chapter, it took me forever to get through the typos and grammar. I have everything prewritten out, but it doesn't make anything less easy lol. I know everything feels like its being rush, but Catherine's life is falling apart. Everything can change in an instant sadly. I know for sure next chapter I will be showing Shay for the first time which I am a little nervous about, I am worried about making Haytham and Shay Oc-ish. I love them both to death, gah!
I really would love to see the reviews guys! So please Follow, review, message me.
One more thing, I am considering doing a one-shot collection of Catherine living another life, but I won't get too much into it yet, I don't want to spoil anything.
Hours passed before Catherine believed she was safe. The girl sat alone on a bar stool breathing hard: she had made an easy escape back to her mother's tavern. The shock was all could she feel pumping through her veins.
Her mother's death was still fresh in her mind.
Hiccups and sniffles escaped Catherine's lips as she wiped her tears. Eventually, the tears stop and the girl fell quiet. She felt like an empty shell of her former self. She had never felt such grief in her lives. She was still expecting to see Rose come running downstairs to pester her to go change or tell her to fix her hair. People always say that grief would go away with time, but the loss of her mother was so overwhelming that her heart could just break. This pain would not go away with time.
What was she going do with the pub? A 14-year-old couldn't possibly run it by herself. Her mother was just teaching her how to run the books, and how to handle the money. Worst of all, the British were still out looking for her, the city had gone crazy since the protest a few hours earlier. All she hoped was that they didn't figure out her name, or where the girl lived.
All these thoughts crowded her mind, but one was perfectly clear. Her mother was murder. A man with wild blue eyes and cruel thin lips under an ugly mustache had fired a single shot into the air. The troops had fired upon the crowd with their muskets and gunpowder with Rose standing on the front lines of the protest.
Someone had to pay for this.
Catherine remembered that Rose had mentioned there were letters among her family's possessions in the cellar.
In the cellar, there is a chest, filled with your father belongings…I can't tell you what to do, but I can let you decide what you do.
What decision did she mean?
Who was Achilles Davenport?
Catherine walked to the door that led to the downstairs basement. It was a door behind the bar against the wall. When she opened the door the light shined down the dark staircase into the basement. As she came down the stairs it took her no time in spotting the chest in no time. Catherine saw that the old chest was neatly stacked in a corner next to a bookshelf filled with glass bottles. She felt a type grip on her throat like she couldn't breathe, what if she didn't like what was inside? The only way she was going to find out is if she opens the chest. Her small fingers scraped across the dusty, but smooth surface of the chest. She traced her fingers across the lining, but soon she met latch. With one swift click of the latch and threw it opens to relived the contents inside. The long chest was organized with letters tuck neatly in a small box in the corner along with a map that looked like the frontier, outside the neck of Boston. She would return to that later after sorting through everything.
If she had time, she wouldn't know if she was racing against the clock of the British troops finding her.
The first thing that caught her eye was a long sword in leaned against the lining of the chest. She took out the sheath and drawn out the straight edge sword with a single-handed grip. Catherine saw the sword was nicely decorated with an engraving on it looked like a set of tweezers that were pulled back and curved at the end. It looked like an 'A', but she wonders what that could possibly mean, Maybe the family emblem since most of their family hails from Ireland. She unsheathed the sword to see her reflection in it. The blade was still sharp to the touch, to her much placed it down back into its sheath and continue to dig until her fingers scraped over a rough fabric. She wonders if it was a type of tarp, but in fact, the trap was a coat. She pulled it up out of the trunk and held it into the dim light, it was covered in dust but was conserved nicely in the trunk. She gave it one shake and dust exploded in the air causing her to sneeze from sucking in the dust.
"Jesus," She muttered.
The Irish girl studies the piece of clothing for a few moments, before trying the coat on. It was a bit baggy but it wasn't like she was trying on her father's coat. The coat seems to be more robe-like to her. The fabric was a light charcoal color, but it featured a white hood attached to the collar of the with flaps and buttons on the front. Most traditional coats end right at the knees, but the coat hit the back of her ankles. The cuffed sleeves were baggy as well - Nothing that couldn't be fixed with a needle and thread if she wished to wear it. Was this her fathers? Giving it one sniff, smelling the sea salt and the musky scent that brought a remembrance of the last time she saw her father. He was squeezing the little girl in his cuddle as she begged him not to leave her with strangers.
Yes, this was his. The coat was a little bit tattered, but it could easily be wrapped herself in the coat like a tight cocoon. The girl was alone, her mother was dead, her father was nowhere to be found and she had no one to fall back on.
The girl told herself she couldn't fall apart yet, not until she knew what her mother descended to her knees to dig into the box. Still was blanketed in her Father's robes. She lifted up the box and put it in her lap as she raised the first one to the light. The envelope it was dated a couple of years before her birth.
My Dearest Rose,
Words can't describe how dearly I miss you, every day and every night, but Liam said we shouldn't be long soon till we return. I wanted you to know I am the captain of my own ship now, her name is The Morrigan, after the goddess of war, fitting isn't it? She is a beauty to see, but she does not match yours.I hope to bring you aboard the next time I see you, minding your brother will just tease us again. I hope for you to wait for me by the docks. To watch out for bright red sails, you shall know it's me.
Funny how life works out: we were only meeting some smugglers who had cargo. Now I am a sea captain of my own ship. The Assassins need another strong ship in their command, which would be a sure win against the Templars. We faced light fire from the British navy, but nothing I couldn't handle.
Liam couldn't tell me why we were here, but he will tell me in time.I can't wait to see you again; I can't wait to feel your arms around me and brush your hair from your eyes. We were meeting with Captain Chevalier, an ass of a man, and has no respect for me. I almost showed him until Liam stepped in to stop the fight. I joined the Assassins to be respected, to have a higher purpose.
I can't wait to see you again; I can't wait to feel your arms around me and brush your hair from your eyes. I will be back in a few weeks, and we can talk about that pub you always wanted to start. There is one more thing I wanted to tell you about my love. Being in the cold north Atlantic, I ran across a flower that I thought you might enjoy. From my understanding, it's called a Snowdrop, only grows where it snows. I'll have to bring back one for you.
Forever yours,
Shay.
Catherine's heart swelled a little when she read her father's handwriting. The love he felt for her mother was undeniable in writing, but what struck out as odd to her was the mention of Assassins and Templars. Who were they?
When she thought of Templars, she thought of strong heroic knights with shining armor and honorable deeds. Much like a fairytale -in fact, that is what it sounded like to her. A fairytale.
she was absorbed in her Father's journey. The killing of Lawrence Washington, James Wardrop, and Samuel Smith. Racing against the clock to find lost temples, and foiling was hard to imagine her father as a killer, but the deeds he tries to accomplish seem to outweigh the bad.
After hours of combing through the letters, she finally came across the last letter. The letter was quickly written tucked neatly into an envelope.
She pulled out the letter and looked over it.
There will be whispers of me being a traitor to the brotherhood, but they don't understand what I saw back in Lisbon. The mayhem and destruction that was caused by that artifact, I should have never touched that cursed object. I cannot describe what I saw in mere words. Achilles is a damn fool for counting this quest of his. It's a fools' will destroy this world - I am going to make sure the Assassins will never find them.
I may die, but I will protect this godforsaken world so that our child can grow into it. I love you both if I survive this, I will send you a sign that I am still breathing.
Forever Yours,
Shay
There were many facts in the letter that he didn't discuss that left Catherine to ponder about. The letter was a goodbye one, afraid that he would never see his young wife again or his child. He was alive, she knew. A realization hit her, like a struck of lighting on a stormy day.
He stayed away from them because he was in danger. These Assassins chased him off from seeing his daughter and wife. The Assassins were at fault that her father wasn't there in her life, it's unfair. He should have been here. Her mother could still be alive.
Anger boiled inside her before she burst out into tears throwing the letter down. She wept once again, not trying to hold it all in. It was their fault she was alone, but they weren't even to blame. What was even worse, it was her fault that her mother was dead. Why did she have to listen to James?
Catherine cried until her eyes became heavy from the painful long events of the day. Giving in to her tiredness, she fell asleep on the wooden floor slumped against the wooden chest.