“In perfect working order. I checked the telescopes and mirrors less than an hour ago. I’ll be able to monitor what’s happening, and set off levers to deploy appropriate defensive and offensive measures as necessary.”
“Defeating Reddington and his men is only the first step,” Elizabeth reminded them all. “We need to ensure the well-being of the castle itself for the use and safety of all the children in Miss Oak’sorphanage. Harbrook is going to be their home. It’s up to us to protect it.”
An eerie, plaintive howl ripped through the castle. The air filled with the scent of singed grass. What sounded like a thousand feet stomped at once on the ceiling overhead, followed by the din of hundreds of glass jars full of pebbles being shaken at once. Metal squeaked against metal seconds before an explosion of bright yellow dandelion petals and sunflower seeds poured down from the battlements like sheets of rain.
“Another alarm?” Jacob asked politely.
Stephen nodded. “The fifteen-minute signal. We’re running out of time before the first shots are fired.”
“Just one shot,” said Elizabeth. “The muskets aren’t loaded, and they only have the one cannon. It might eventually make a hole in the wall, but it should take several minutes to load up another ball. Of course, if the stone crumbles enough, soldiers with bayonets could crawl through and—”
“Elizabeth,” Jacob said in warning.
“Nothing to worry about.” Kuni brandished her daggers.
Elizabeth lifted her sword. “Welcome to the battle royal.”
38
Stomach sinking, Stephen stared out the window at Reddington’s army. Those were real soldiers outside. With a real cannon and real arrows. Dutifully following Reddington’s every wish and command. And what Reddington wanted was to oust the Wynchesters and install himself as king of the castle. “There’s got to be another way.”
Philippa and Jacob flanked the window.
“Kuni and Elizabeth are impressively lethal,” Jacob said, “but two warriors cannot defend against an entire army, no matter how skilled they may be.”
“Let me try to reason with him.” Philippa took the speaking trumpet and swung the flared end toward the arrow slit. “Cease fire, Reddington. It’s over. The countess’s will and testament proves without a doubt—”
“Bring it here,” Reddington’s voice boomed, “and His Grace will have the document appraised by his own independent authorities.”
“They’re not independent if they’re in his pocket,” Graham muttered. “Of course he’ll claim it’s false.”
“Or destroy the document,” Elizabeth agreed. “We have to take the will to Miss Oak. She’ll want to speak to us in person. Her lawyer will corroborate the contents.”
“We can’t go anywhere,” Marjorie said. “We’re surrounded.”
“Then we’ll deliver the will to Miss Oak once we win the battle royal,” said Philippa.
Kuni arched her brows. “Youare advocating for war?”
Philippa sighed. “What choice have we got?”
Kuni handed her a dagger.
Philippa dangled it gingerly by the hilt.
“Never mind, give it back.” Kuni held out her hand. “A neophyte is more likely to hurt herself than her enemy.”
“I can throw a dagger,” said Philippa.
All the Wynchesters spun to look at her in shock. “Youcan?”
“Remember when my book club spent a month studying archery a couple of years ago? It wasn’t all theoretical. Once we’d learned everything we could about the equipment and memorized the stratagems, we spent several afternoons engaged in hands-on practice. After we met Kuni, it seemed logical to do the same with daggers.”
“It seemed logical.” Tommy kissed her on the cheek. “That’s the most Philippa-est thing you’ve ever said.”
“What about swords?” asked Elizabeth.
“Swords were one of the first weapons we studied. We’re not as gifted in combat as you or Kuni, but I can thrust and parry without hurting my wrist or losing my grip.”
