Chapter Text
“Miss I got the dirt you wanted.” Squeaked the little voice at her side.
“Good job Ivan.” She reached inside her trouser pocket retrieving his wage and a sweet.
“Thanks Miss!” he chirped running of to his next assignment.
London was a mess, the Blighters ruled the streets and greedy capitalists ruled society, it was increasingly difficult for the working man to make a living. Like cogs in a machine everyone had a place in a greater scheme. Those who fought were likely to be killed or tortured before death was kind to them.
Alice was one such disenfranchised soul, a cog loose in the machine. Since the murder of her father, she had taken it upon herself to continue his fight, even if it was not in the way he intended. Tonight was one such night, a request had come in for a target to be eliminated and the bounty would be more than enough to keep her charges safe for a few more weeks. Every day, every job was just about clawing a few more weeks or days of freedom. Everyday you wake up able to make a choice is a victory.
Tugging her collar up higher she made a note of the observations made by Ivan and the other urchins and headed towards the Thames docks. Her silver handled stiletto was heavy in her pocket, pistol strapped to her hip and blade in her boot, as subtle as one could get. Fog had descended onto the dockside streets, only the braver whores lined the promenade, and she had dodged a few in faked passion in the alleys.
Her target this night was a captain of a barge that was being sponsored by Blighters and according to her informants and client shipped child workers for the foundry and disposed of the dead. There was no point in killing the lackey’s, they could be replaced, her only option was to dispose of the captain, and get rid of the boat. Downriver a contact would be waiting to strip the vessel and sell it on within the day.
“Step one, get on the boat. Step two, take out the watchman. Step three, take out the captain.” She repeated to herself as the dock guards switched for the second time.
Taking an alternate approach she climbed aboard a neighbouring vessel giving her time to sneak aboard undetected. Four guards patrolled the top deck, rotating every 10 minutes. Stiletto in hand she jammed the knife between his vertebrae tossing his helpless body into the rolling waves. Following the rotation she eliminated the second guard nearest the hold, slipping inside she was greeted by the unwashed faces of children.
“Miss! Hel-” one moved to call and she silenced him with a gloved hand.
“I swear I am here to get you all to safety, but I need you to be quiet.” The little boy nodded in response. "Scream if a guard should approach."
Continuing forward she reached the inner cabin, the absence of the Blighter's lackey's gave her the sickening feeling that the children were just the human shield to soak up damage meant for him. Fucking coward. The man was a walking mass of fat and muscle, unlike other members of the gang he had clearly avoided their training. Crouching by the doorway she listened for further sounds of thugs, shoulders hunched, the familiar tension and anticipation running through her veins.
“Fucking Rooks stealing all of our resources, got the Templars breathing down my neck.” She assumed the gruff voice was the captain’s.
“Well the boss wants the kids delivered by dawn and then come get double the shipment, he’s just lucky I had more in stock.” She assumed he was a wrangler stealing kids off the street. He would have to die as well. Blade drawn and pistol in hand, she shifted ready to attack unaware of the presence behind her.
“Now what do we have here?” a gruff voice breathed in her ear. Adrenaline fired through her veins and she twisted lashing out with the stiletto, but he was already too close, a large hand wrapped around her knife wrist wrenching it behind her and the second clamping over her mouth. “Don’t scream.” He growled removing his hand to disarm and restrain her other hand in front. “What’s a pretty lass like you doing in a dive like this. Nothing suspicious I hope.”
“What does punishment get you off, Sir?” she bit out, wriggling against his strength but the man was an immovable object.
“I’m sure I can make an exception. But I ask again.”
“I’m on a contract to kill the captain and if you don’t get off me you big oaf, you’ll ruin all my work!” she hissed.
“Now no need to be rude, it seems that we are on crossed paths.”
“How so?”
“I’m here to kill the Templar.”
“The other voice?”
“Aye.”
“Then release me, give me my blade and let’s get on with it. Not all of us can waste their days sneaking up on people!” she groaned as her wrists were released and the cool metal placed back in her hand.
“Jacob Frye,”
“Oh just my ruddy luck, really?”
“I didn't realise I was that bad? Normally I get a warmer reception.”
“I heard that your normal greeting involves your fists, but aye, I was rude. Alice.”
“A pleasure, sadly the environment does not match your beauty.” She stared blankly at the audacious man, flirting on an assassination, a confident grin on his face. If she didn’t have murder on her mind she would have blushed. He was confident, cockily so, and in a way that he was self assured about his place in the world and expected others to adjust around him. The smile on his face confirmed her assessment. Were he not so arrogant she would find him handsome, all muscles and wicked smiles, but for now he was not her priority.
“Oh for Gods sake,” she cursed ducking into the room. Her target was closest, hunched over maps and tide times lit by the smallest of candles. Blade in hand she went for the back of the neck, sliding the blade into the spine, the man falling limp as she lay him to the ground. The soft grunt of the other man indicated Jacob had completed his job.
“So, how about a…” she didn’t hear his invitation as she slammed the blade through her victims eye, the small blade breaking the thin socket bone and ensuring his death, satisfying the anger that gnawed in her stomach. Withdrawing the blade she wiped the viscera onto the dead mans collar, going to work removing his ring, proof of death alongside his insignia. “Did you hear me?” he waved comically in front of her.
“What? No. Sorry I was focused on my task.” Jacob rounded the table regarding the crumpled man and her handiwork.
“Clean and methodical, definitely a candidate for the Rooks.”
“No thank you Mr. Frye, I already am accounted for. Now if your business is concluded, I have a ship to steal.”
“The children?”
“I’m taking them somewhere safe, somewhere away from here.”
“I’ll get the ropes then.” God give her strength would she ever be rid of this man! “You’re not going to make me walk back to Whitechapel are you?”
“Probably.”
“Now lass, I thought we could get to know each other a little better.”
“Mmmhmmm?” she challenged hoisting the body over her shoulder. “Keep trying sweet thing. It may eventually work.”
~.~
Bodies dumped and children unchained, the cool night air licked at Alice’s face as she navigated them down the Thames. With the boat theft and murder completed successfully she was set for a few weeks. The only thing that would improve her mood more was being rid of the cocky assassin currently staring at her.
“Please stop staring.”
“Not likely, not when such a pretty puzzle is before me.”
“Oh halt the press, the great Jacob Frye has found a woman who did not rip her bodice at his smile.” She mocked.
“Perhaps I could help remedy this oversight.”
“OH GOD.” She groaned slamming her head on the wheel. “Please just stop and save yourself. I have much greater concerns than ...”
Her tirade was cut short soft lips pressed against her own, a small gasp of surprise as she rocked back surprised by his action. Rough fingers cupped her cheeks and delved into her thick hair holding her in place, his larger frame pinning her against the wheel. The cad that he was, Jacob took full advantage of the opening deepening the kiss, his body so warm against her own as he rocked in time with the boat. He was demanding, just as she had imagined, his stubble chafing against her chin as she wound her fingers into his collar, but even a little push couldn’t move the mountain of muscle. Growling in frustration he smiled against her, his warmth welcome against her cold lips. It seemed to last an age, both enjoying the feeling of intimacy and irritated that it had been stolen. A soft moan escaped her lips as he teased his tongue with hers, the look of victory on his smug face enough for her to consider violence.
“YOU… you… you arse!” she cursed shoving him, this time he had the decency to move away.
“You taste so sweet.” He teased licking his lips, his focus still on her with a look she could only describe as pure desire. All swagger and smile he stepped closer challenging her once more.
“Do not give me an excuse to cut that smile off your face.” She warned.
“Ha! As if you could! Then you wouldn’t purr for me again kitten.”
“Do you even hear yourself?”
“Questions, questions.”
“How has your twin not beaten the crap out of you?” Out of the corner of her eye she spied one of the children fiddling with something on the deck near the barrels, another edging closer, hook in hand.
“She has, frequently, but then that is her right after all as my twin.”
“Poor soul, she has burdened such a weight.”
“Such a clever little mouth and a nimble tongue. I can think of plenty of uses for it.” The boy was almost there, the hook slipping onto Jacob’s belt. “For one, another kiss.” He leaned in again when a high pitched shout carried over the fog.
“NOW!” both stared as the boys rolled a barrel over the side of the barge, the rope pulling tight and the shout of Jacob Frye was priceless as he was dragged overboard. She could hear him cursing between splashes.
“A GENTLEMAN DOES NOT HURT A LADY!” shouted the child, she recognised as him as the one she had silenced.
She laughed heartily awarding her saviour a kiss and her last sweet as the shouts of the betrayed Frye faded out. Her heart racing at his last promise reached her.
“You will be mine!”
~.~
“Oh Jacob, tell me you did not swim the whole way?” mocked Evie, as her bedraggled brother stripped away his wet clothing. “There was a boat, the whole point was to stay out of the water.”
“It was an oversight.”
“You’re not injured are you? Overwhelmed? You’re too quiet for it to have been a victory”
“No.”
“Then what is it misery guts?”
“A girl, and some overprotective urchins.”
“You’re serious.” She laughed. “What was she? A Templar?”
“No, she had a target too, but wasn’t an assassin or a rook. Pretty as an angel, but with a tongue as wicked as the devil.”
“Still doesn’t explain the dip in the river.”
“The children she saved took exception to her Prince stealing a kiss. So they tied me to a barrel and threw me overboard.” Evie had laughed all the way to her carriage. He could still hear her howls of laughter and knew there was no way he would live it down.
Tossing his remaining waterlogged clothes in a pile he redressed in looser clothing for bed and swigged a healthy drum of brandy, the amber liquid warming him from the inside. Alice… he mulled over his feisty ally, the touch of her lips against his own and how she fought him… she would not be a pliant lover, one who fawned over him for his deeds or his strength. No, she would be a challenge, one he hoped to accept once again.