Charlotte leapt over Malcolm onto Mrs. Cummings’s plump figure. Instead of being crushed to the floor, the housekeeper stood rooted in place. Charlotte’s claws tore into the woman. The rips in the thick cloth of her tunic revealed shiny metal underneath. Mrs. Cummings scruffed Charlotte and dragged her off, shoving her to the ground. She lifted a foot to slam down on the wiggling werewolf, but a barrage from Malcolm’s pistol pushed her backward.
Mrs. Cummings reached for the iron stove, but her fingers suddenly unclenched and her right hand hung from her wrist like it had been broken. Imogen’s toxin was finally working. For a heavyset woman, Mrs. Cummings was spry. She leapt behind the stove and shoved it one-handed at Malcolm. It tore from the walls with a geyser of black coal dust and rushed toward him like a rampaging wagon. He backed away, but Charlotte streaked across the kitchen and carried him through the door into the hall. The iron stove smashed, wedged into the doorway behind them.
Penny took advantage of the distraction and powered up her wee pistol once more. Mrs. Cummings turned, glaring at the engineer. Penny aimed as best she could as the pistol moved with a mind of its own. The discharge swept through the room and shoved Penny back five feet, tumbling her on top of Imogen. Black smoke poured from the housekeeper’s chest. Her movements were chaotic and jerky.
“Get down! She’s going to blow apart!” Penny tried to herd Imogen over the upturned stove and out the door.
Caught up in the fever of battle, Imogen shook her off and turned to snap off more quills. One struck the woman’s cheek, sticking to her skin like a stray whisker. The girl grinned in triumph. Malcolm leapt back into the kitchen, tackling Imogen to the floor just as Mrs. Cummings exploded. Metal and flesh hit everywhere, coating the town house with black oil and bloody smears.
“Losh!” Charlotte exclaimed from the hall in a near-perfect imitation of Malcolm.
Penny popped up. She looked for the Scotsman and a flash of relief washed over her when she saw he and Imogen were all right. Then a crooked grimace took its place. “Your friend won’t like how we redecorated.”
Malcolm assisted Imogen to her feet. The girl hung her head apologetically at him. At least she knew she had done something foolish.
Penny plucked a piece of Mrs. Cummings from the floor. To Malcolm’s relief, it was metallic. The piece twisted and turned in her hands as she examined every wire and nook and gear. “This is the Baroness’s work. Same as we came across with Dr. White.” She tossed it to the side. “She’s really starting to annoy me.”
“She won’t much longer.”
Penny toed another metal chunk of housekeeper. “She’s actually quite brilliant.”
“So are you.”
“I know, but …”
“You’re much younger, and you’re already a genius.”
“Genius?” Penny puffed with pride, but the brief interlude didn’t last as she remembered their purpose and the implication of the debris on the floor. “I guess this proves your friend is with Gaios.”
Malcolm gritted his teeth. Gaios had already had the infernal housekeeper in place, watching Jane last year, and Malcolm had realized nothing. A steady ache of shame built in his chest, fearing he had unwittingly left Jane to be swept up by evil.
“I found this before. I saw several of them.” Imogen held up the ragged sheet of paper she had been holding. Malcolm took it from her.
Charlotte’s snout towered over him. “That’s not something a lady has in the house. Even I know that.”
She was right. It was a broadsheet for a bawdy tavern at the waterfront called the Hanged Mermaid. A bare-breasted mermaid was posing, offering sailors more than just a free drink.
Charlotte reverted to her human shape. Penny didn’t think twice but reached into her rucksack and pulled out a cloak for the nearly naked girl. They had several changes of clothes for her in the carriage; it was a necessity with the young werewolf.
“We’re heading for the waterfront.” Malcolm shoved the paper into his pocket.
Charlotte started bouncing up and down. “Are we going to find some pirates now?”
“Pirates?” Malcolm sucked in a calming breath. “You two will stay in the coach.”
Immediately Charlotte’s smile faded. Her arms crossed dejectedly.
Imogen leaned over. “At least we’re going with them.”
Charlotte brightened and leapt into the carriage. “Aye, matey!”
The coach driver leaned over with the practiced calm of a long-standing Anstruther retainer. “I heard noises inside, sir. Is all well?”
“Quarrel with the help. Take us to Limehouse.”
Malcolm and Penny exited the carriage onto a fog-bound Limehouse street across from the Hanged Mermaid. The waterfront smelled of haddock and brine. He signaled the two girls to wait. Imogen nodded, leaning back in the seat while Charlotte peeked through the window shade at the press of strange people shuffling past.
Penny glanced behind them at the coach. “She’s not going to stay there. You know that.”
“She will if she knows what’s best.”
Penny patted his arm. “You just keep thinking that.”