“We do have two robes,” Jemma reminded them, still the planner, the executor of their organized missions. Both she and Lucie donned the black shrouds and pulled the cowls over their faces. “How do we look?”
“Like they do,” Yasmine said.
“Good, then get out the door before they get on top of that fire upstairs and start thinking about us.”
Bodie hoped Jemma had more of a plan in mind but, trusting to her strategy, opened the door and walked out into the cold air. Not yet fully dark, the coming sunset warred with the early moon in the skies above, lending the stone-walled courtyard a stark, yet alluring façade. Bodie, Yasmine and Cassidy walked in front of their captors, across the uneven cobbles and toward the far dungeon doors.
“Now that’d be ironic,” Bodie murmured. “If we put ourselves back behind bars. Imagine the Great Dragon’s surprise.”
“Shut up.” Jemma batted his ears.
Halfway across, a Hood approached. “Weren’t there five of them?”
Jemma nodded exaggeratedly and then pointed upward, high up toward the tall tower they’d just vacated.
The Hood followed her finger, but didn’t move.
“They said we could call a taxi to hit the town,” Bodie said. “The Grandest Dragon and his lackeys. Beelzebub, Gali... Galileo and um, Mama Mia, is it?”
The Hood snorted and turned away in disgust, waving them on. Jemma slapped Bodie once more and thrust him in the direction of the dungeons. Lucie tried to walk behind everyone, hiding the fact that none of their hands were tied. The ruse wouldn’t last long...
“Hey!” the Hood called.
Cassidy spun, lifting her arm to bring up the Glock. One shot and the Hood was down. Cassidy shifted target. Another shot, and the next Hood collapsed.
“What now?” Bodie asked.
“Didn’t you see? We’re beside the gate.” Jemma was already sprinting as Cassidy fired a third shot. Three fast steps and she lunged, hitting a pressure pad with her palm. Instantly, there was a click and the gates began to open.
“Just keep shooting!” Yasmine cried.
Cassidy did, covering all her enemies one at a time, backing off at speed. Two men managed to fire back, but through luck, both bullets flew wide of their target. Within half a minute, her mag had run dry.
Bodie was squeezing through the still-opening gates as Jemma and Lucie threw away their robes. Slipping outside, he took a step forward and then stopped, frozen in shock.
“You gotta be kidding me.”
Jemma squeezed past. “Oh, shit!”
She almost fell headlong into the dry moat running all the way around the castle.
Bodie stared down at the eight foot deep trench. “Where the hell’s the drawbridge?” he asked Jemma.
“How should I know? I don’t figure drawbridges into my plans.”
Bodie slipped along the rim, looking for an easy way down. “Well, let that be a lesson to you. From now on think, castle—think, drawbridge.”
Lucie and Yasmine slipped into sight, their backs against the opening gates. A moment later Cassidy lunged through and was saved from falling by Yasmine, who grabbed her hair.
“Shit, that hurts!”
“Sorry. Better than breaking your face on a rock though.”
Cassidy ducked as a bullet smashed into the gate close to her head. “Marginally. And where’s the road?”
“Down here.” Bodie jumped two feet to a narrow ledge, then crouched and gripped two delves for handholds. The rock face was cold and damp, slick to the touch. Nevertheless, he lowered himself another three feet to a second ledge and then jumped off that to the ground, letting his legs fold.
“Hurry,” he said. “We’re sitting ducks down here.”
At the best speed they could manage, the five climbed down to the bottom of the dry moat and ran along a stony, muddy route, staying close to the inner wall. They heard the gates crash fully open above and knew the chasing Hoods would soon converge at the exit.
Bodie limped along faster, body bruised, following the curvature of the moat. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be seen; the cambered and ever-bending wall together with lengthening shadows should hide them from view. At least the Hoods wouldn’t know which way they went, and every second of hesitation counted.
Shouts went up. A bullet slammed in their direction. So much for wishful thinking.
Bodie pushed his damaged body harder.
“You do know we’ll end up back at the front door?” Cassidy shouted up.
“Ya think? I’m very open to suggestions.”
“How about that then?” Jemma slowed.
Bodie looked to where she was staring and felt a mix of distaste, doubt and repressed hope. “Shit,” he said. “We’ll probably die, but it’s our only hope.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bodie wrenched hard at a rusted iron gate, trying to pull it away from its moorings.
They’d found a drainage culvert. Once it had been covered by a solid door but at some point, with a waterless moat, someone had decided to swap the door for iron bars. The nuts and bolts holding it in place were rusted and neglected, the brackets weakened by years of rain, grime and corrosion.
Cassidy jumped in to help, adding her strength. Yasmine watched their rear.
There was no doubt the Hoods were coming, but at the moment they were nowhere to be seen. The ever-darkening night, though helpful in one way, was unaccommodating in another.
With a tortured squeal the grate came free. Bodie flung it back into the hole just in case their pursuers didn’t notice the grate was gone and then ducked his head and walked inside. Darkness fell like an impenetrable veil before his eyes.
Jemma squeezed past, grabbed his sleeve and pushed forward. Bodie reached out for Cassidy and then, in line, they shuffled as best they could down the concrete drainage tunnel, once more trusting to Jemma’s eagle eyes at the front. A thick blanket fell over them and the only noise was the sound of their scuffling feet.
The channel continued
