Before she finished the sentence, they were airborne. Malcolm felt himself flying up and out of the vehicle. Penny shouted in elation. And just as suddenly, they slammed to the ground, and Malcolm crashed out onto the front of the sidecar. Penny fought to keep the vehicle under control while she used one hand to grab Malcolm’s collar, dragging him up to prevent his slipping under the wheels.
The Scotsman struggled his way back toward his compartment and saw two large figures launch themselves into the night air from the top of the uncompleted terrace they had just sailed off. The werewolves landed and charged in pursuit as Penny skirted the edge of the park, driving toward the river.
“Damn it!” Malcolm tumbled headfirst into the sidecarriage. “Go! They’re still coming.”
Penny pointed at a rucksack on the floor of the little car. The hunter scrambled for the bag, his body vibrating as if an earthquake were striking Britain. Cursing, he grabbed the sack and yanked it open.
“The round ones are grenades,” she shouted. “I built them for you.”
Malcolm’s eyes went wide and he bit off a scathing retort. He was surprised none had gone off with the bone-shaking ride. Explosives weren’t something you wanted bouncing around, but he should have realized that anything the Carters made was durable and manufactured with the utmost care and deliberation. The grenades were small, dark grey metal globes with a small cylinder protruding from the casing.
“You press that button for a ten-second fuse,” Penny instructed. “Oh. And be sure to throw it.”
Malcolm timed the beasts’ pursuit, then he pressed the switch. He counted five before lobbing one of the bombs behind them. It bounced and rolled toward the creatures, and exploded in a sharp blast. White slivers glinted in the moonlight. The lead werewolf screamed and fell instantly, but the other veered away from the fight.
Malcolm gaped at Penny.
“Silver shrapnels,” she told him. “First test in the field. How did they do?”
“Bloody brilliant!” he exclaimed, pulling another grenade from the bag. “I’ll take all that you have!”
“I only made a few and they’re all in there. Don’t waste them because they’re going to cost you a fortune.” Penny threw him a pleased grin and caught sight of the last werewolf closing the gap, running like mad. Penny lost speed.
“What the hell are you doing, woman?” Malcolm bellowed. “Are we running out of power?”
“Trust me,” she replied. “They don’t like fire either, right?”
“Nothing likes fire.”
Her grin turned wicked. “Good.”
The werewolf howled its victory as its jaw snapped just shy of the rear wheel. Malcolm half stood in the tiny seat and faced backward, pulling reloaded pistols and aiming. The werewolf bit the wheel and the velocipede swerved dangerously. Malcolm felt himself lifted up and realized in alarm his cart was airborne. They were going to flip over. Penny cursed loudly and struggled to right the careening vehicle while Malcolm threw his weight to the opposite side. His sidecarriage slammed back down to earth.
“Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!” he shouted.
Penny obliged, slapping at another lever. The rear pipes belched tongues of brilliant white fire. Flames engulfed the werewolf in midleap and it flailed, its fur burning. The motor sputtered and the steamcycle bucked, threatening to stall. Penny shouted. The smoldering beast climbed onto the back of the sidecarriage. The Scotsman didn’t flinch but instead grabbed the creature by the throat, much to its surprise, and shoved the muzzle of his pistol under its snout. He pulled the trigger and the creature’s face disintegrated. Malcolm threw the hairy thing off and it somersaulted into a dark lane.
Penny gunned the engine back to life and they roared past a few stunned people onto Westminster Bridge. Penny skillfully maneuvered her smoking terror through the flowing chaos of shouting people and rearing horses.
Something caught Malcolm’s eye. A shape moved quickly in the spaces between wagons and horses. Then he realized that a werewolf was loping along the bridge railing with uncanny grace.
Malcolm grabbed one of the handles controlling the front wheel and swung the vehicle hard left. The boiling steamcycle nearly crashed against a brace of already skittish horses that shied with wide, white eyes. The terrified pair dragged their heavy wagon piled high with barrels against the rail. Pedestrians screamed and scattered.
Suddenly the werewolf landed high atop the barrels. The creature snarled down and Penny struggled desperately to keep steady with the runaway cart without being stomped by panicked horses. Malcolm teetered out of the sidecarriage, seizing one of the heavy ropes restraining the mountain of barrels. He brought his large dagger against the cord and with two swipes, the razor-sharp blade sliced clean through the rough cable.