“I want to talk,” The Raven said.
“So talk,” the man said, clearly annoyed by the intrusion.
The Raven made his way closer. He eyed his surroundings. There was nothing the man could use as a weapon unless he had one on his person. At this moment, The Raven had three: a knife lodged in his boot, a pistol tucked into his waistband, and a dagger attached to his belt. One could never be too careful.
“Hey,” the man said. “Don’t I know you?”
The Raven shrugged. “Perhaps.” He reached into his coat and unfastened the dagger. This was turning out to be a perfect day.
The man stepped closer. “I know you. You’re the man who stole Braden’s treasure.”
The Raven said nothing, merely laughed.
The man came even closer. He braced his legs into a fighter’s stance. “You want a fight, old man?”
True, he was old enough to have fathered this man. His own son couldn’t have been much different in age. But age mattered naught.
“Tell me,” The Raven said. “What is it that Braden is after here in Loch Ness?”
The man’s eyes flickered past him to the castle ruins at the top of the hill, perhaps surprised that The Raven had seen Braden.
“It can be our little secret,” The Raven said. Then he laughed, enjoying his own jest. He withdrew the dagger and turned it over in his hand, the silver blade shining brightly against the snow.
“Do you honestly think I’d betray Braden to you? I’d just as soon kill you first,” the man said as he lunged forward.
He landed a blow to The Raven’s stomach, hard and forceful. It nearly knocked him backward. Nearly, but not before The Raven was able to slice the dagger into the man’s side.
“Is he after the Kingmaker?” The Raven asked, shifting out of the way as the other man’s fist came down again, this time hitting nothing but the air between them.
“Kingmaker? I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about,” the man said. He ran at The Raven, this time ramming him with his head at the center of The Raven’s gut.
“You can’t protect him,” The Raven said once he’d recovered from the blow. He leapt forward and managed to jab the man again with the dagger. Blood seeped from the man’s leg and dripped onto the snow. Crimson covered alabaster as the blood stained the frost.
The man’s eyes widened with surprise. He grabbed his thigh, trying to stanch the bleeding.
The Raven took the opportunity to strike again, this time slicing the man across the torso, not deep enough to cause too much damage, but enough to cause pain.
The man cursed, coming at The Raven again, but his coordination was off this time, and he missed.
“All you need to do is tell me what Braden is after. Then I’ll leave you alone,” The Raven said.
“I’m no fool,” the man said.
The Raven smiled at him. “Perhaps that was a tiny prevarication. Still, the sooner you tell me, the sooner I’ll stop toying with you.”
“Go to the devil,” the man said.
“Admirable. What has Braden done to deserve such extreme loyalty from you?” The Raven danced around him, ducking to miss another blow from the man’s fist.
The man said nothing, merely growled and came at him again. This time, The Raven was able to grab hold of him. He held the man by the arm, dagger pressed intimately at the man’s side. “Tell me what I want to know,” The Raven said close to the man’s ear.
“Go to hell,” the man said.
“You first,” The Raven said, then slid his dagger across the man’s throat, the blade sinking into the man’s flesh. Blood sprayed upward and outward. It fell onto The Raven’s face, splattering onto his cheek, a drop flickering into his eye.
He dropped the man, who sank to the ground. Scarlet droplets scattered across the snow, pooling where the man had fallen. The Raven stepped away to avoid getting too much blood on his shoes.
He withdrew a calling card from his coat and tossed it onto the body. Let Braden see firsthand what fate awaited him.
