Reddington wasted no time replacing the injured soldiers, then pointed up at Graham. “It’s a man, not a giant spider! Squash him!”
The soldiers let fly with their own daggers.
Graham scrambled nimbly out of harm’s way, disappearing behind the turret to lure the new crop of soldiers to the trapdoor.
They followed at full speed initially, then slowed when they rounded the second corner to the rear of the castle and realized there was no sign of their missing comrades.
They didn’t dither for long. In the bare seconds since they had paused, seemingly wild cats encircled them from out of nowhere.Before the soldiers could do more than tighten their grips on their swords, the cats sprang, claws and incisors out, tangling with the soldiers’ legs and biting through their stockings.
The soldiers shrieked and windmilled in panic—right over the trapdoor.
Whoosh. Another special delivery to the dungeon.
Some of the cats tumbled inside along with the men. The felines not only landed on their feet, but also happily partook of the treats the Wynchesters had prepared to thank them for their part of the battle. The soldiers, on the other hand, were herded straight into the waiting cells and locked in tight with their brethren.
Rather than watch through the spy tube as the trapdoor was disguised anew, Stephen hurried back to the front of the turret.
Without wasting a moment, Reddington quickly replaced all eight men.
“You pair, guard me,” he barked at the largest two. “You six, go and find out what’s happening. And for God’s sake, be careful.”
The new, significantly less burly soldiers exchanged doubtful glances, as if being sent off into a magical forest after finding out pixies and goblins were indeed real after all.
“Close,” Stephen murmured. “You’ll see.”
40
Three of Reddington’s men headed to the left of the castle, while the other three circled around the right.
A loud screech sounded from the far turret. Hawks filled the sky. One by one, the birds dived. The soldiers fled from the attack in panic, running right onto the waiting trapdoor. The first few fell in by accident, succumbing to gravity in the blink of an eye. The others witnessed the trick and skidded to a sudden stop.
Briefly.
The hawks wasted no time clawing at the men’s hair and uniforms. The rest of the panicked soldiers had no choice but to run, hurling themselves into the gaping hole right behind their comrades in order to escape the vicious talons streaking down from overhead.
Stephen cackled in glee.
Out below the front window, Reddington was furiously appointing new replacement soldiers. He could not fathom what had happened, but he had seen the hawks and heard the shouts and swiftly realized that he had been bamboozled.
Another loudthwacksounded in the forest.
The dungeon bell chimed three times. The code for trouble.
Stephen rushed to the spy tube. Four Wynchesters were visible, with no cats or enemy soldiers in sight. All must have gone according to contingency plan number nine.
“What’s happening?” he called.
“We’re running out of room in the cells for prisoners of war,” came Tommy’s voice up the whispering wall.
“Blast.” Stephen swiveled his field glass. “Let me see what Reddington is doing.”
“I think they’re going to rush the door,” came Graham’s voice from the front of the turret.
Stephen spun around in surprise. Graham had entered silently this time. There was even a fresh sword and two more daggers lying atop the wooden chair.
Out the window below, Reddington and his men were advancing toward the main entrance.
The women inside the castle were having none of it. Daggers flew out from the arrow slits on either side of the wooden door. One of the blades narrowly missed striking Reddington in the chest, and tore a strip from the uniform of the soldier beside him instead.
