Chapter 12. Partners in Crime
Once nestled in the seclusion of the opulent chamber, their laughter bubbled forth like a wellspring of shared triumph. Jacob's grin spread contagiously as he collapsed onto the sumptuous couch, sinking into its welcoming embrace. "Consider yourself my official partner in crime, Lilly," he proclaimed, mischief dancing in his eyes. "I might just have to recruit you full-time once all this is said and done."
Seating herself beside him, Lilly mirrored his smile with genuine warmth. "I appreciate the offer but I believe I'll have to decline," she responded softly yet firmly. "I've had my fill of excitement for a lifetime."
Jacob raised an eyebrow playfully. "What a pity," he teased, "I could get used to lounging around in accommodations like these without breaking the bank." With a lazy stretch and a yawn, he noticed the weariness etched on Lilly's features. "You take the bed, Lilly," he insisted, getting up to shed his damp attire and leaving them by the crackling fire.
Crossing the room, Lilly folded a blanket from the bed and handed it to Jacob along with his heavy coat, still damp from their escapades. Her gaze lingered on his bruised shoulder blade, impressed by how resiliently it bore their trials. Tracing her eyes along his rugged arms highlighted by lean muscles, she suddenly felt self-conscious of her own lingering stare. Flustered by her inexplicable reaction, she turned away swiftly before retreating to the bed.
After shaking off the unwelcomed sensations that gripped her momentarily, Lilly climbed into bed and awkwardly attempted to change beneath the covers. Glancing towards Jacob, she found him already sprawled across the couch in peaceful slumber, breathing softly and evenly. "Goodnight, Jacob," she whispered into the tranquil room's hush. As she settled down to rest facing him, succumbing to drowsiness, exhaustion from the day finally caught up with her.
Nightmares tormented Lilly's sleep—vivid scenes of shadowy figures in black uniforms overpowering her. In her dreams, she fought against their grip, her cries piercing the eerie silence of the night. Abruptly awakened by her own scream, Lilly sat up with a gasp, tears glistening in her eyes. Jacob, roused from his half-slumber, hurried to her side. Taking her trembling hand gently, he settled beside her on the bed, his gaze still heavy with sleep. "Are you alright?" he mumbled groggily. Lilly nodded, brushing away the tears clinging to her lashes. "I'm sorry for waking you," she whispered shakily.
"No need to apologize," Jacob murmured softly, observing the faint light of dawn filtering through the window. "Nightmares visit us all. Try to rest a bit more if you can." As Jacob moved to return to his place on the couch, Lilly clutched his hand tightly, silently pleading for him to stay. Pausing at her touch and questioning gaze, he hesitated.
"Jacob? It might seem forward of me... but could you please stay here next to me. I'm... afraid to fall back asleep," she confessed in a hushed tone. His lips curved into a gentle smile as he draped his blanket over his shoulders dramatically before settling back beside her. "Sit next to a lovely lady?" he teased playfully. "Only a fool would squander the chance!" A blush tinted Lilly's cheeks as Jacob's words stirred a flutter in her heart. She smiled at him before turning towards the window where dawn was breaking. The familiar sight combined with Jacob's reassuring presence eased her tension, replacing fear with comfort and security that allowed her to relax and slip back into peaceful slumber.
Lilly stirred awake. Her eyelids fluttered open to the gentle morning light seeping through the curtains. Nestled against a comforting warmth, she felt the steady rhythm of a heartbeat near her ear, evoking memories of tender moments with her late husband that tugged at her heartstrings. In a sudden moment of realization, Lilly sat up slowly only to be met by Jacob's mischievous gaze as he lounged against plump pillows. A playful grin danced on his lips as he greeted her teasingly: "Well, good morning, my dear wife," his eyes alight with amusement.
The unexpected endearment sent a rush of colour to Lilly's cheeks, like the blush of dawn. Surprised by the intimacy of the situation, she quickly straightened up and turned towards the window, seeking refuge in the soft morning light to shield her embarrassment. "Oh my goodness, how terribly improper," she murmured softly, her voice betraying a mix of fluster and self-consciousness. Watching Lilly's reaction with an affectionate twinkle in his eye, Jacob rose from the bed with a gentle chuckle. He reassured her in a soothing tone, "No harm done. You looked so peaceful; I didn't want to disturb your rest." With fluid grace, he reached for his shirt nearby as he readied himself for the day ahead.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Lilly suddenly realized she was standing in her undergarments. With a startled gasp, she swiftly turned, deftly grabbing her skirts and slipping them on with practiced ease. After a moment, she spoke, her voice laced with uncertainty: "So, what's the plan now?" As the words escaped her lips, a grim realization dawned upon her. "I can't go home… can I?"
"No. That wouldn't be wise," Jacob replied, regret casting a shadow over his features. "Regrettably, in our haste, I spared Peter's life, and he will undoubtedly inform them of your assistance… once he can speak." Jacob smirked wryly. "It's likely already apparent to that rifle-wielding fanatic," he sighed wearily, frustration evident in his tone.
Lilly glanced down at the floor, her mind swirling in despair. "What am I supposed to do?" she murmured softly, sadness tingeing her words.
Jacob approached her purposefully, each step deliberate until he stood by her side. "Listen, come with me. We'll rendezvous with my companions; they can ensure your safety until this situation is resolved, and then you can return home. It's the least I can offer. Without your aid, I would have perished," Jacob expressed gratefully as he looked into Lilly's eyes. He then frowned and raised a brow. "Or worse... listening to that Templar witch gloat about how she bested me with her trained bloodhound," he added, his face aghast at the thought.
Following a leisurely late breakfast, the pair stepped out into London's bustling streets alive with the rhythmic sounds of horses' hooves and the animated conversations of people passing by. They chose to take a cab, its wheels clattering over the cobblestones, directing it toward the towering structure of Lambeth Asylum. Jacob, having been away for several days, clung to the quiet hope that his friends hadn't relocated to a more secure place. Upon arrival, a rush of relief enveloped him as he discovered his allies still congregated there.
George greeted Jacob warmly with a nod. The children's laughter filled the sombre room, bringing a spark of joy as they raced to welcome him with exuberant hugs. Lilly watched the heart-warming scene unfold, her own emotions stirred by their affectionate display. Suddenly, Jack burst into the room and dashed towards Jacob, wrapping his small arms tightly around him. Jacob tousled the boy's hair tenderly as Jack's voice quivered with emotion. "You left me here..." he whimpered softly.
Jacob crouched down, looking at the young boy with a mix of sorrow and fondness. Gently, he wiped away the tears from Jack's cheeks. "It wasn't my intention to be gone for long," he whispered apologetically. "I'm sorry, Jack." In response, Jack threw his arms around Jacob's neck in search of solace, finding comfort in another heartfelt embrace.
Jacob rose to his feet, a small smile playing on his lips as he took in the scene before him. The young initiates clustered around Lilly, their faces alight with curiosity, their eyes wide, and whispers filled with excitement. Acknowledging the eager gazes directed at him, Jacob gave a nod of approval, silently deciding to give the enthusiastic group more time to acquaint themselves with Lilly's warm presence. Jacob's focus shifted to George, who motioned for him to come along. They weaved through the winding corridors; their steps creating a gentle echo until they arrived at a cosy, shadowy chamber. Inside, piles of documents cluttered the space, illuminated by sunlight streaming through the small window and enveloping the room in a comforting glow.
George's gaze bore into the younger Assassin; his words tinged with frustration. "Where on earth have you been? I was starting to think you were gone for good!" Jacob's nonchalant demeanour persisted as he lounged against the wall. "I came close," he retorted, "Annie's got more bite than I bargained for." "That's exactly why I cautioned you against it. Honestly, Jacob, someday you might heed my warnings..." George's voice trailed off in exasperation. Jacob retorted with a smirk, "Seems like my rebellious streak paid off this time, George. If I had heeded your words, we might have overlooked Evie's troubles until she made a rather dramatic entrance to end us all." George's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"
"The Templars have ensnared her, manipulating her will to further their agenda," Jacob revealed. George's expression twisted in shock. "Could this be just a fragment of a larger plan, or maybe something more profound?" Jacob cut in abruptly, pulling at his shirt to reveal the wound inflicted by her blade. "This was no mere plan; it was meant to be my demise."
George slumped back into his chair, weariness etched in the lines of his face. Jacob leaned in closer across the worn wooden table. "There was something strange attached to Evie's temple," Jacob began, his voice tinged with urgency. "It bore a striking resemblance to the peculiar metal encasing the Shroud. It seemed like a device for control; she urged me to run while she tried to kill me..." he confessed, anguish flashing across his features like a storm. "We can't let them imprison her mind like this."
George's eyes fixed on a distant point ahead as he spoke decisively. "We must depart London at once and make for our safe house in Croydon." Sensing Jacob's protest rising, George interjected firmly, "Jacob, this isn't fleeing. That safe haven was privy only to a select few—your father, myself, and a senior council member." His tone softened slightly as he continued, "Within its walls lies a treasury of ancient texts on precursor artefacts. Perhaps within those pages lies the key to understanding this device and breaking its hold over Evie."
The gravity of the information eased Jacob's nerves slightly. "Navigating London won't be a stroll in the park, George. It's not just Evie and the Rooks in our path; there's a Templar hound relentlessly tracking me, always shadowing my steps. He's a foe unlike any I've encountered." Feeling the strain in Jacob's voice, George studied him with growing unease, recognizing that the young Assassin wasn't one to be easily shaken. "Describe him to me," he urged.
Jacob stood with his arms crossed tightly, his eyes narrowing as he stared out the window, lost in a whirlwind of memories. "He radiates an aura of unshakeable confidence. Muscular, armed to the teeth with a preference for a deadly rifle—trust me, it packs a punch. His movements are precise and strategic, like he's playing a game only he comprehends fully. Even his fellow Templars fear him; they call him Hunter..." As Jacob noticed George's face drain of colour, his concern intensified, and he quickly unfolded his arms. "George, are you alright?" he inquired, his voice edged with urgency.
"We must evacuate the initiates from London immediately," George declared abruptly.
"Why, what's wrong? Who is this Hunter?" Jacob probed with a furrowed brow.
Unfurling a map, George began charting a route to safety. "It's not just about who he is, Jacob; it's what he represents," he explained cryptically.
Jacob's brow furrowed in confusion, prompting him to delve deeper. "Could you elaborate on that?" he demanded.
George halted abruptly, the map slipping from his mind as he fixed Jacob with a piercing gaze. "The Templars have a specialized unit of Assassin hunters," he revealed with grave intensity. "They're known simply as 'Hunter,' a title earned through enduring a brutal training regime from youth, where only the most resilient survive the unyielding cruelty. Those who emerge are lethal—many of our brotherhood have succumbed to their unparalleled skills."
Perched casually on the edge of the table, Jacob's brow furrowed in contemplation. "Is this about the story Father used to weave for Evie and me when we were young?" he inquired, a curious tilt to his raised eyebrow. George's expression darkened: "That was no mere fable, Jacob. Ethan's intention was to warn you both in his own way. The rarity of these hunters led me to believe we would never encounter one."
"So... the pouch at his waist... does it contain what I suspect?" Jacob whispered softly. George's response was sombre as he affirmed, "Yes, it holds the finger bones of our fallen brothers and sisters—a grim ritual designed to mock our legacy."
A heavy sigh escaped Jacob's lips. "Evie always believed there was some truth in our father's tales. I wish she had been mistaken this time." Rising once more, George moved around the table, gripping Jacob's shoulders with an urgency that sent a shiver down his spine. A fierce intensity burned in George's eyes, like a storm ready to unleash its fury. "Jacob, though you seldom heed my advice, I implore you now: never confront this Hunter alone," he urged. "He is a threat beyond measure—impervious to pain, devoid of fear—and he will not stop until your lifeblood stains his hands and your final breath vanishes into the darkness."