Getting out of the ruins of the lab hadn't been easy, but they made it. Nothing but scrapes and bruises, and certainly no piece of Eden. The journey home had been spent in silence.

"We were so close," Evie sighs, staring up at the ceiling. Her room has become the twins' official refuge, and somewhere to her right Jacob sits in her chair. She can hear him tipping it dangerously back on two legs, but no warnings rise to her throat.

Jacob snorts. "To what? Dying?"

She sits up, reaches over, and smacks her brother's arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

She doesn't bother to respond, dropping back into her bed with a huff. For once, Jacob seems to sense her bad mood and doesn't delve into his usual foolery. They fall back into silence, but, at least, this time, it's not as jaded. She's the first to relent.

"Do you think the piece of Eden was really destroyed?"

Jacob doesn't speak for a long moment. "Obviously. Or at least, no one's going to find it anytime soon."

She nods. It's silly, but her brother's words ease her. She sits up again, ignoring Jacob as he raises his hands in surrender, probably thinking she's going to hit him again.

"I'm going to father's study," she announces as she rises and heads for the door. To her surprise, she hears Jacob stand up and follow behind her. She hesitates as her hand closes around the handle of the door.

"Well? Let's go," he urges, and she leans against the door with a sigh, turning to face him. His face has lost its silly grin.

"I… can't stop thinking about London. Sir David said that Miss Thorne found another piece of Eden."

He quirks an eyebrow at her. "When?"

"When I took his life. He spoke to me."

Jacob's face is incredulous, so she tries one more time.

"It was like… nothing else existed, except for him and me. Everything was… quiet." The dying man's words echo in her mind. "He said 'we fight to gain what we cannot take with us'. That it's in our nature."

The endless nothingness that surrounded them. Maybe it had bounds; she couldn't tell. It was neither dazzling nor dull. It simply was, and it had shaken her.

And then the world had rushed back in, this ghostly non-reality she had existed in for that small infinity disappearing like it had never happened, and Brewster had been dead at her feet. She sighs again, shaking her head, and opens the door, listening to her brother follow her in confused silence.

"You were right, you know," she says as they move down the stairs. "The council will not do anything. Maybe…" She tries to imagine it. She shuts it down. "Well. I suppose Mr. Green is on his own."

"We should help."

"We can't. Father wouldn't have –"

"Father did. He lost the bloody piece of Eden in the first place," argues Jacob. They're in the hall now. "And he stayed away from London because he was too ashamed to face it. Evie, we can do better."

Evie's heart seizes, and she whirls in indignation, her face hot. "We can't! Father was an assassin for an entire lifetime. We claimed our first targets today. You would be much better off if you took his words to heart sometime."

Jacob's jaw clenches, but he doesn't say anything, and instead pushes past her into the study. Evie remains frozen at the threshold, watching him root around without a second thought in the room she hasn't been in for weeks.

"Not a full day ago," Jacob finally speaks, his movements stilling as he leans against the desk. He doesn't meet her eyes. "'We've not even taken our blooding'. That's what you said. Now it's 'we only claimed our first targets today.'"

She doesn't reply, watching him as he turns his back to glare out the window.

"When will we be ready, Evie?"

"I don't know."

Reluctantly, she forces herself forward, wrapping her arms around herself as she takes in the study. Exactly as she remembers it; Jacob has managed to not disturb what's left of their father. She runs a hand across his desk, and her fingers come away dusty.

She bites her lip, willing the tears to stay away. Jacob murmurs something, and before she can ask him to repeat it, he moves around her and out the door, leaving her alone in the study. She leans heavily against the table, and then the tears do come.

"Right. This time things are going to be a little bit different."

That's the first thing that George says when the twins greet him in the busy train yard, two days after their mission. Evie gives him a curious glance; he has a sense of urgency about him that has nothing to do with the numerous Templar guards patrolling the yard.

"Two targets. Target one," he motions to Evie, "yours. He's a right sod called Albert Acker. Owner of a mill what's been falling behind on regulations, abusing his staff, all that. We have reason to believe he's receiving backing from Starrick. You're to work with another member of the Brotherhood to… replace him, and find out why the Templars are so interested in the mill. You'll meet our man on the outskirts of Crawley."

He gives her the location of the mill on a neatly drawn little map, and she nods grimly.

"Now, target two –" his gaze turns to Jacob now. "Is a Templar. He ships iron right from here and his name is Rupert Ferris. It would be ideal if we had another man ready to take over there, too, but we're going to have to settle for simply sweeping the Templars' feet out from under them for a time."

He regards them appraisingly for a long moment. "Think you both can handle it?"

Jacob scoffs. "What a question."

This time, Evie can't help but smile. "We won't blow anything up this time."

George shakes his head fondly. "I should hope not."

"George, honestly. We've got this," she reassures him.

Jacob brushes against her, inclining his head ever so slightly. She turns, following his gesture towards the tracks, confused for a moment – but then the rumble of the train becomes clearer. They share a smirk, and within moments, have scaled the side of the carriage that'd been sheltering them.

"Chat later, George, we've a train to catch," is what falls out of Evie's mouth as she pulls her cowl up. Jacob removes his cap and tucks it away into his jacket, pulling his own hood up.

"Jacob…"

They both ignore the warning note in their mentor's voice evident even over the steady chugging of the approaching train.

"Evie…"

They leap, landing easily on the roof of the passing carriages, turning only to wave at George.

Neither of them hear George mutter under his breath, "may the Creed guide you, you vagrants", nor see the worry flicker in his gaze as he watches the train carry his best friend's children away.

As planned, Evie jumps off the train in what, at first glance, seems to be the middle of nowhere, only betrayed by the sight of the mill looming some ways away from the tracks. She treks across the field, the train's rattling fading into the distance. Jacob had gotten off before her, at the steel foundry, and she wonders how his assignment is going.

She puts those thoughts into the back of her mind as she spots a dirt road through the bushes and mess of young trees. She hops lightly over the ditch at the edge of the field and forces her way through. One glance up one end of the road – that's towards the train tracks, so she ought to be heading the other way. She raises her cowl and walks along the side of the road. At least, she reflects with some amusement, it's not raining.

Her pace quickly brings her to a grand gate. Two stone hounds sit neatly atop a pillar on each side, and it almost seems that they're leering down at her. She turns away, nimbly climbing over the wall and landing lightly on the other side.

"We work in the dark…"

She jolts at the voice, raising her arm and releasing her blade before the words can sink in, poised to strike as she whips around, heart pounding. A hooded man sits atop the wall by the gate, hidden by foliage for all except the sharp-eyed. Though she can't see his face, there's an air of expectation in his posture. We work in the dark…?

Realisation hits her, followed quickly by embarrassment. "To serve the light," she finishes, hastily relaxing her arm and allowing the blade to retract. The hooded man nods and steps lightly off the wall, emerging from behind the trees. He easily towers over her.

"You must be Miss Frye," he greets. Now that he's closer, his face isn't obscured by the shadow of the hood. Brown eyes. Sharp jaw, but it appears crooked, and as he speaks he doesn't open his mouth very much. All of this Evie notes in a cursory glance before venturing to reply.

"You're the one George has sent for?"

The man nods politely. "Yes. My name is Victor. Shall we crack on?"

"Right."

The two assassins move along the wall towards the hulking mill. "The plan's simple," Victor tells her in a low tone over his shoulder as they walk. "We're to get in, quiet like. Albert Acker has been planning to hand off this mill's ownership."

She nods, picking carefully over the tangle of branches. "Yes. George briefed me."

"I should hope so." Victor's tight smile at that fades. "However, there's been a new development. This mill isn't to be handed off to just anyone – Mr. Acker is signing the place off to a Templar, so the mission's been altered. Not only are we to take over the mill, we'll be needing the name of that Templar. Even better if we can catch him out."

Evie absorbs this information silently. They've stopped now, hunkered down across from the mill. "It seems the Templars are everywhere these days," she sighs. Victor's smirk this time reminds her of Jacob.

"Let's do something about that."

Getting into the mill is the easy part – but aside from the foreman, and the workers, there are too many people strutting around. Victor leads the way into a secluded alcove just past the doorway, his expression grim.

"Starrick'll give us a raise after this," a man, who passes too close to their hiding place for Evie's liking, boasts. "How bout it? Fancy me a leader of one of them gangs in London? Eh?"

Another scoffs. "In your dreams."

"Honest! I'll get Mr. Roth to train me right up, 'n then Starrick'll make me famous."

"Maybe he'll give you Lambeth asylum if you don't pack it in."

Their bickering fades out of earshot as they walk away.

"I thought there weren't any Templars here," she whispers to her companion.

"There aren't supposed to be," he hisses back.

She purses her lips and nods tightly. "Then we'll just have to take care of them later."

She rises, ensuring her cowl is firmly over her head before she moves forward, ghosting along the walls with ease, listening intently. Their target's office is at the opposite end of the building – she can see it; massive windows give him quite the vantage point over his workers, and she catches a glimpse of fluttering shutters. He's watching. If they're not careful, he'll spot them. Evie's mind is already racing – there has to be some way.

The two assassins slip past the guards with ease, taking care to stay out of direct sight of the window, though they're soon forced to take cover behind a crate and reconsider their course.

"We should split up," Evie suggests. "We may not get far, standing out the way we do, but perhaps we'll be harder to discover separately."

"Good idea," Victor nods appraisingly, the two of them stilling as a guard passes overhead, his shadow falling across them. Victor waits a beat once it moves on before speaking again. "You go straight for the office – and I'll take the long way around to see what I can find. We'll rendezvous in the target's office. Do try to keep him alive, my friend."

She nods. "Good luck to you."

With that, Victor seizes his chance, and darts across the room, quickly disappearing from her sight. Evie glances up as another patrol of Templar boots stomp overhead, and then she, too, is off.

She's just below the office at last, when suddenly a young guard rounds the corner. His eyes widen in surprise as he takes in her appearance, and she springs forward, clamping her hand around his mouth, shoving him backwards into the storage room he'd just emerged from. He has the sense to try to kick back, but Evie merely sidesteps the wild flailing and pins him against the wall.

"You're going to help me," she hisses in his ear. He protests, but his voice is muffled by her hand. Evie tenses her wrist and brings up her other hand, blade out, to press threateningly against his throat. Immediately, the man stills. "That's better," she says sweetly. "Either you die here and now… or."

The man swallows nervously as her gaze hardens.

"Or. You get me up into that office and maybe you live to tell the tale. Pick now."

She tentatively draws her hand away from his mouth, and he hesitates, terror in his eyes. Spineless. She refrains from rolling her eyes as he stutters out, "I – I'll take you there, miss."

"Wise choice."

She releases him, hooking her arm around his elbow as if they're simply off for a stroll. Her free hand, hidden between them, presses against his back, the threat of the blade spurring him on. With that, he leads her up the stairs, pausing before the door.

"Open it," she orders under her breath, conscious of eyes flicking curiously towards them. The guard opens the door, and she all but shoves him into the room, shutting the door quietly behind them.

"M—Mr. Acker?" The guard stammers out, clearing his throat to get his boss's attention.

"One moment," responds Mr. Acker. Evie narrows her eyes – he's there, at the other side of the room, his back to Evie and her captive.

"It really is quite urgent, sir…"

Evie inches forward, pushing her captive along with her.

"Yes, yes. One moment, I said. These blasted signatures…"

Evie withdraws from her captive, but before he can rejoice in his freedom, she slams her gauntlet into the base of his skull. He crumples, leaving her to catch him and lower his limp form to the ground soundlessly. She steps over his unconscious body and creeps towards Acker.

"Right. What is—" Acker turns, and the rest of his sentence is lost as he takes in the sight before him, his mouth agape. Evie springs forward before he can recover, slamming him into the wall and holding her blade to his throat.

"I suggest you don't call for help, Mr. Acker."

The man blinks his small, piggy eyes at her in alarm, his spectacles askew on his nose as he stammers out a barely-coherent sentence. "You- you wouldn't—"

Her lip curls in distaste. At a glance, it's hard to believe that such a timid man could be so cruel to his workers, be working with the Templars. And yet, here they are.

"We're here to collect, Mr. Acker," she informs him. At that moment, the door opens quietly, and without releasing Acker from her hold, she twists, narrowing her eyes. It's Victor. She nods towards her companion.

Acker seems to take that as his moment to escape – and he tries to shove her back. She stumbles, but with a grunt, slams him back into the wall. "Don't try that again," she warns, jabbing the blade at his neck. "Victor – he was working on these papers here. Perhaps we should start there?"

Victor doesn't reply, simply shuts the door and crosses the office in three strides, leafing through the papers with narrowed eyes. Ackers looks on nervously, stammering out something about how the coppers would get them for this.

Evie shakes her head mirthlessly.

"You're far beyond the police, Mr. Acker. By associating with the Templars, you've painted a big target on you. We're here to collect."

The man's eyes dart anxiously. "What- what do you want? M-money? I'll get—I'll get you money. You'll both be rich. For life! Just… just let me go."

"Evie," Victor interrupts, holding out a paper to her, a smirk on his face. "This is it."

One hand still pinning Acker in place, Evie takes the paper, scanning it.

"I believe that there's our Templar. Name sounds familiar to me, I'm not quite sure why, though." He frowns, accepting the paper when she offers it back. "Right," Victor says thoughtfully, rummaging around the office for something.

He holds out a quill. "We're going to draw up a new contract, and then you're going to tell us all about your new friends."