Another short one. Trying to update a little more often, since we are hanging off cliffs. Another piece of heartache too, since I love these two so much.

His breath painted white plumes of vapour in the damp air as he heaved for breath. His lungs were burning. Aiming the rope launcher across another street, he didn't stop his stride, just flung himself off of the roof as the dart found purchase and the mechanism engaged, pulling him across. His shirt clung to his skin under the heavy coat, sweat and rain drenching him. He grit his teeth and pulled himself up on the roof, but took no time to pause before taking off again. Rain didn't matter. Exertion, pain didn't matter. Nothing mattered except finding Evie, finding and getting her out. He ignored the whispering ache in his muscles as he pulled himself up onto another ledge, high above ground level.

The Strand was practically crawling with Blighters, more than he could hope to fight and live through the ordeal.

What the hell were you thinking Evie? Were you willingly putting your head on the block?

Perched high above the streets, he crouched on the ledge of the church tower and watched the pack prowl, analysing their movements.

Down below, Charing Cross ley drenched in rain and darkness. The lampposts bloomed their shaded light to reveal a startling number of blighters fanning out along the streets upending every nook and cranny, going through empty yards, checking behind crates and under carts. They were clearly searching.

To Jacob that implicated two things; one: they had not got to Evie, and two: they had reason to believe she was still in the area. The former brought a small form of relief, the latter a terrifying sense of urgency.

Why hasn't she left?

His jaw clenched as a number of scenarios flitted through his mind, unwanted pictures of gunshots and knife wounds through Evie's body.

Jacob clenched his jaw and pushed them away. At present, such thoughts were nought but a hindrance. With steel determination, he put his attention to the scene before him.

They were heading west, a solid manhunt swiping the streets, blatantly ignoring the areas to the north and east. He drew a hand down his face, making a split second decision as he regarded the overall area. Whatever made them work in that specific direction, he could not tell, nevertheless he was content to take any indication to Evie's whereabouts.

Lifting his gaze, he opened his mind in search for her as he had already done a dozen times. He could always tell if she was close, a warmth on his skin and mind radiating from her direction as if she were a fire only he could feel. There was nothing but the silent hum of danger down below and Jacob turned outwards, widening the search, reaching gradually further away. The skill had grown with time in London, his reach surpassing what his father had ever described possible. Still, apart from the Blighters there was only coldness, as if the rain had cooled the world of any warmth.

He was about to move when down on the street, a shout rang out.

"Here! Over here!"

He snapped around, running along the roof ready to fire his gun, grapple to the middle of the fray or whatever was necessary to get to Evie. Below, heavy boots pounded against the cobblestones, but when he found the source of the voice, there were only Blighters assembling in the middle of the street. No sign or trace of Evie among them. Then what was the shout about?

A scraping, metallic rumble resonated to his perch and Jacob realized they were removing a manhole-cover. Honing in on the spot, he picked up parts of the conversation.

"I' don't think this is the one either." The Blighters cursed heatedly.

"How long until they've filed through the bars?"

"Five, ten, fifteen minutes, who knows? Can't stand around and wait while she escapes! Let's move!"

The men dispersed, continuing their prowl westward.

The blighters believed Evie was underground. Now he knew where to look, he wasted no more time, firing a line and grappling across the square. He avoided delving further into why as another surge of stone cold dread lifted the hairs on his neck. Fear sunk its claws into him unfurling a different kind of anger, a desperate defence against despair lodged deep within trained instincts. Aggression was always the best defence. Blazing unrestrained it roared as he wondered what bloody assessment she had made before engaging the mission. What carefully laid plan led to this particular outcome?

Jacob grit his teeth in silent fury.

Stealth could only get you so far, but up against these odds and confined to the underground the margins were non-existant.

What irked him the most though, was there were other options. She could have brought backup. She could have turned up with numbers matching the Blighters and made it an even fight, out on the street.

If she would just put a little trust in the Rooks. If she had an ounce of faith in me…

Atop another roof, another street in view, he searched for the familiar tendrils that were only hers, but there was only the constant ring of danger from the hunters on a prowl. Jacob moved on.

Again and again he reached for her, stretching his abilities to the very limit as desperation slowly crept up on him.

At the back of his mind were questions he did not want to consider. They whispered quiet torment driving a dagger through his heart. He disregarded it sharply but it crept creeping back, clawing its way to the forefront of his mind as the search went on fruitless. If she were dead, would he still feel the bond they shared? Would he still be able to find his way to her through it or would it die with her? The thought was too painful, too raw, another dangerous distraction threatening to shatter his concentration. He willed it back, willed back the tight knot in his throat too as he pulled himself atop another roof.

Evie, where the hell are you?

The rain was pelting the surfaces around him, the thrumming of droplets grown a low, steady hum cloaking his progress across roofs from the Blighters on the ground.

Suddenly something made him pause and turn his head. When he reached for her again, he felt her. A weak glimmer, but one so familiar that there was no question in his mind if he were right. Jacob set off at a sprint. His feet flew across the roof in its direction, exertion and pain instantly forgotten.

The glimmers grew stronger by the yard, as if answering his call with fervent will. It resonated from a small square up ahead. The space held a circular water fountain with secluded seats between low hedges, deserted and dejected in the falling rain. In the corner, behind a low parting wall were steps leading down under ground and the door at the bottom glowing.

He threw a glance back, noting the Blighters a block behind, steadily working their way onward. There was a limited amount of time until they came upon the spot. Jacob let himself drop to the ground, the sheltered space secluded from view, then hurried across the square and down the stairs.

The tunnel was dark, a flood drain by the look of it, and suddenly the Blighters search made sense. The flood drains ran separate from the sewer only joining together closer to the outlet. There was no need for manholes for inspection, meaning there were fewer accesses. Evie had somehow managed to enter one while barring the Blighters out.

The darkness around him was all-consuming, but following the tendrils of Evie's presence, Jacob needed no light to find the path through bends and branch-offs.

When he finally laid eyes on her though, his feet stopped dead in their track.

Evie was slumped against the wall, feet sunk into the murky water. Her eyes were open, staring into empty space with a vacant expression Jacob identified with death.

"Evie!" his voice cracked as his mind regained control of his feet and he closed the distance to her. She was still clutching the kukri in her hand, ready to fight off her enemies even on the brink of death. His gaze searched but found no injuries on her no trace of blood where she rested but she was so very still. When he cupped her cheeks, they were cold as stone.

She suddenly seemed frail and small, the sister he had always protected. Now all the strength residing in her gone with the light extinguished in her eyes. His eyes were burning and his heart breaking appart as he crouched before her crumpled form and felt for a pulse on her neck, not daring to hope and equally not able to believe that she was gone.

He nearly jolted when her pulse thudded against his fingers. Flooded with relief, he covered his eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath. She was alive. Evie was still with him.

He took a second to compose himself, then regarded her keenly. Her pulse was weak, and slow. Her breathing effected too, he surmised.

Poison.

No less life-threatening than if he'd found her surrounded. He gripped and pinched her inside thigh, holding her empty gaze. It was a hole few seconds before pain wormed its way into her addled brain and registered as a minute flicker in her gaze and a breath drawn a little more sharply between her lips. The familiar snick as her hidden blade activated alerted him, but there was only a feeble tremble as she tried to raise her hand to fight him off. He stopped her movement gently, cuffed her wrists with one hand as he tried to find her essence in the empty gaze.

"Evie. It's me. It's Jacob."

The minute awareness wore off with no sign of recognition on her features and then she was under again.

Evie needed help, but what aid she required could not be given here. Quickly he disarmed her, taking off her brace and stowing it away in a pocket with her kukri.

A sense of danger was slowly creeping up his spine again. The Blighters were upon the entrance. Gripping her arms, he pulled her up and then heaved her dead weight across his shoulders. The ghostly wail of rusty hinges sounded muted with the distance. It was time to go.