Patch's Arc

Chapter 5 of 7

The stair let out into a narrow hall of raw brick. A single gas lamp guttered on the wall. Behind Patch, the door they had come through sealed itself into the stone. Bella pressed her palm to where the seam had been and pulled it back covered in soot. "Gone," she said. "That's fine. That's normal. I hate it." Patch kept his sword out. The hall bent sharp to the right. From around the corner came a wet copper hiss, like a kettle sighing through its teeth. "Behind me," Patch said. He stepped around the bend. The thing filled the hall wall to wall. It was a copper pot on stubby legs, tall as Bella, riveted and dented, with a wide rim and a painted face pushed to one side. Little vents on its shoulders puffed white steam. Its eyes were huge and green and glad to see them. It giggled. The sound came out of a spout somewhere inside it. "Oh no," Bella said, very small. "Oh, no, no. I know what that is. That's for accidents. That's what they send when a girl has an accident." The copper thing waddled forward. Steam curled from its rim. It opened its arms. Patch swung. The sword rang off the copper belly and jumped in his paw. Not a scratch. He struck again, low, at the ankle joint. The blade bit and stuck. The thing giggled again and lifted its foot, and Patch went up with it, hanging off his own sword. "Bella. Run." Bella didn't run. Bella backed into the wall with her hands over her face, and Patch heard the crinkle before he understood it. Then the smell. Then Bella making a noise that wasn't a word, high in her throat. "I did it again," she said into her hands. "I did it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I couldn't, it just — it just went." The copper monster stopped. Its green eyes went to Bella. Its face did something like a smile. It set its foot down gently, with Patch still dangling, and reached for her with both arms open, cooing through its vents. It wanted her wet. That was the whole point of it. Patch yanked the sword free and dropped. He rolled between the monster's legs. Under the belly he saw what he needed: a brass drain plug the size of a saucer, screwed into the bottom. He hooked the sword's guard into the slot and threw his whole weight sideways. The plug spun. Popped. A gout of scalding water crashed down over the stone. The monster shrieked through every vent at once, tipped, and clanged onto its side. Steam boiled up the hall. Patch grabbed Bella's hand and pulled her past it, over the puddle, into the dark ahead. She was crying. Still walking. Still wet. "Keep moving," Patch said. "We'll fix the rest when we're out." Behind them, in the steam, something else began to giggle back.