“We only want the box,” Fielding repeated.
“I don’t see how that benefits me,” the Raven said. He toed the box closer to him but did not release the bag of jewels.
“It allows you to live,” Fielding said.
The Raven shrugged. “Either you’re going to shoot me or you’re not. The box is irrelevant.”
“And drop the bag,” Esme said. “You’re not leaving here with the monarchy’s treasure.”
The Raven stood there, his eyes moving from Fielding to Esme and back again. Then, suddenly, the bag fell to the floor.
“Esme, very carefully pick up the box.”
“What about Thatcher’s hand?” she asked with a wince.
He nodded. “We’ll need that too.”
She stepped over and quickly grabbed the box, which she clutched to her chest. With two fingers, she picked up Thatcher’s hand, then coughed into her shoulder to get away from the stench.
“We’re going to walk out of here together,” Fielding said, the gun still tight against the Raven’s chest. “Esme, you walk in front of us, back the same way we came in.”
She nodded and started walking.
They were halfway down the hall when something went wrong. The Raven jerked away from Fielding and with one move had Esme pressed against his side, the pistol Fielding had given her held up to her throat.
Fielding’s mouth went dry. He kept his gun aimed, but he dared not shoot with Esme so close.
“I’d rather not take her with me, but I will if you insist on taking me to the authorities.” With his other hand the Raven yanked the necklace from Esme’s neck.
“What do you want?” Fielding asked.
“To leave here. Alone.”
Esme’s green eyes pleaded with Fielding, and she grimaced when the gun bit into her tender flesh. She squirmed as the Raven tightened his grip on her.
“You have to keep still,” the Raven said, his mouth pressed against her cheek. “Though I can see why my nephew favors you so much. Plump in all the right places and just enough fight to make things interesting.”
Fielding was going to have to shoot; he had no other choice. Anger surged through Fielding as he aimed for the Raven’s shoulder and pulled the trigger. Surprise etched across the man’s features as the bullet hit its mark and blood spattered the wall behind them.
Esme screamed and pulled away from the Raven, quickly making her way to Fielding’s side.
The Raven turned and ran as best he could while clutching his shoulder.
Fielding grabbed Esme and together they ran after the Raven.
“We still need the key,” Esme said. “We’ll get him,” Fielding said.
They followed the Raven’s bloody trail down the hallway, then up the flight of stairs and across the battlement to another tower. The wind howled around them, and Fielding caught a flash of the Raven’s black cape as he rounded a corner.
“He’s getting away,” Esme cried.
Fielding sprinted after the Raven and followed the madman’s leap to the top of the tower wall. The Raven stopped, looking down at the Thames far below them. There was nowhere else for him to run. Fielding had him trapped.
“Come to finish me off, have you?” The Raven’s voice was gravelly with pain.
“I just want the key.”
With his good arm, the Raven reached into his shirt collar and withdrew the necklace. “I want the box.”
