Plogviehze, Baby: 6/14
Prologue | Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14
Delay caused by more exams. Seriously, this has got to stop.
Plogviehze, Baby: Chapter 6
Open her up, make her scream, paint the walls with red -
"Polly!"
"Ngk."
"Pollyyy!"
Polly desperately turned over. She bumped against someone.
"Wake up!"
"S'ill brigh' ou'side," she mumbled. It was. Also, there appeared to be a vampire sitting on her bed.
Slippery dream fabric slid off her like a dress as Polly pried her eyes open.
"Yeah, well, that's the point," said Mal, who looked thankfully whole.
"Oh, that," said Polly, slowly propping herself up and rubbing her eyes. She was not a morning person. Or evening person. Or late afternoon person, right now. Gah!
"... Shit," she added.
"What is it?" asked Mal.
"I think," said Polly, trying to concentrate. "I think," trying again, "I just killed you. In my dream."
"In your dream," said Mal, and paused, and added, "Best place for it, I suppose. How much blood?"
"Jus' a nigh'mare," mumbled Polly, her head sinking back onto the pillow. "Doesn't r'lly matter. Yes?"
"How much?"
Polly rubbed her eyes again, as the images faded. She felt slightly thankful for that.
"All of it," she said. "Since you asked. Have we d'cided onna d'cision yet?" she added, looking over to Mal. "Dammit, 's that frost on your coat?"
"Attic turned out to be a bit windy," said Mal. "And I think we agreed on spending the night in big heaps of snow, which is why I am waking you at this godawful hour." She was tying a fresh strip of cloth around her hand. Polly couldn't help but notice that it had a nice pattern of flowers.
"You couldn't sleep," said Polly, to whom the idea of big heaps of snow was, at this moment, somewhat unappealing.
"That's not entirely incorrect," said Mal. "Get up. I'd like us to leave before dusk."
"Don't you want to tell your brother we're not coming?"
"I'd rather not."
"And anyway," added Polly, "I said I was okay with staying there for a night. You know, maybe they've got coffee you can nick."
"Doubt it," said Mal. "Look, you don't know them. I do. Can we just trust my judgment here?"
"C'mere," said Polly. "Like that." She slid the icy coat off Mal's shoulders and draped her still warm blanket over her instead, noticing Mal was shivering with leftover attic cold.
"Polly, I don't think -" she began.
"I'm not doing anything," said Polly. "Warmer now? Great. Listen to me. I think we should go. That way, if they turn out to be stuck-up, aristocratic sociopaths, you can at least claim you tried. If you don't, the blame'll always be on you, 'cause you're the minority. And I can tell you miss them."
"I miss having a family," said Mal. "'s not the same."
"It's even in our direction," said Polly. "See, I'm perfectly able to look out of a window. That great black mountain far down the valley, right?" She was totally working on assumptions here, but she couldn't imagine any vampire family not building their castle on any damn mountain if a higher one was around somewhere.
"Right," said Mal. "We can walk farther than that in one night."
"Yes, but that doesn't really matter," said Polly. " Because there's no way we'll get to Ankh-Morpork in time, right?"
Polly had expected a 'yes', had hoped for a 'no'. She hadn't expected Mal to just admit defeat, letting herself sink to the side and wrapping the blanket tighter around herself.
"Fine," Mal said into the pillow. "Let's just visit my old mum. 's gonna be fun."
A 'yes', then.
"Only if you want to," said Polly to her back. It was all about choice, right?
Except for her, but -
"I don't particularly want to, no," said Mal. "I just figure I'll get this over with. And then, Ankh-Morpork. I guess it's a week from here. Less if we had a coach and horses."
Polly frowned. "But we do not have a coach and horses."
"Yes," said Mal. "But I figured, if we can't nick any coffee -"
"Mal," said Polly, "nicking a coach and horses does not count as a way of making up with your family."
"Just if the making up fails," said Mal. "Wouldn't dream of it, otherwise."
Polly thought.
"Y'know, if the villagers left their cattle behind -"
"I thought of that, too, but they gotta have left on something," said Mal. "Hard to ride a cow, really. Or a sheep." She sounded sleepy. "Or a chicken. Or a donkey."
"'s not hard to ride a donkey," said Polly.
"Mh."
"Look, how serious are you about this getting up business?" asked Polly, because while getting back to sleep sounded like the best thing ever, getting back to sleep next to Mal, though, who had stubbornly spent the day hanging upside down from some rafter in a freezing attic, and also took up the whole of the blanket, sounded entirely unmanageable.
"'m cold," mumbled Mal. "'m thoroughly un-mo-ti-va-ted."
"Sleep, then," said Polly. "I'll try and see what we can take with us, shall I?"
Mal mumbled something.
"I didn't quite catch that," said Polly. "Mal?"
"Make me coffee?" said Mal. "Big cup, only with a bit more coffee and a bit less water this time?"
Polly paused, and said: "So am I your official coffee engine now?"
"Well, old one did get stomped, y'know, and the foldaway thing is a bit of a joke," said Mal. "'s a honour, really. I do not choose my coffee engines lightly."
Polly sort of patted her hair a bit.
"And," said Mal, "I could be persuaded to get up and help you, if you just bring me coffee. Please."
-
Polly figured that Mal probably needed the sleep, and so she took her time to get dressed and do some necessary looting in the laundry room before descending to the bar.
She felt a little nervous. Something was wrong. Not quite wrong in the 'there's a manic axe murderer standing in the doorway' sense, just -
Something was wrong with the silence. Something was definitely wrong with the silence. She looked around for obvious clues, but there turned out to be a distinct lack of obvious clues.
Kitchen. Coffee. Coffee grinder. No going back upstairs, she wasn't five, and while it was sort of dim down here, she had good night vision. She still lit up a few candles.
Grinding the coffee and getting the snow from the outside and melting it in the kettle at least distracted her from the curious silence. And it took so long. The kettle was icily cold, so was the snow - no, really -, so was the kitchen until she finally managed to make fire. It all took so long, and still no obvious clue, no clue at all.
Some fair amount of noise from upstairs disrupted her. Good morning, Mal, Polly thought, and answered it with some noise of her own. Gonna pack some potatoes, gonna pack some onions, gonna pack the sorry remains of the coffee beans. Can't be hard.
More noise.
I'm going upstairs, thought Polly, I'm going upstairs, and then she thought, but the coffee is almost done. Water was boiling. She poured it over the coffee powder, and the scent of Midnight Surprise rose up. She almost sneezed.
Surprise...
Polly spun around a fraction of a second before the kitchen door was opened, coffee cup raised. Never underestimate the impact of boiling hot beverages, she thought, and then-
"You," she said, breathing some relief. Not the face she wanted to see, but close enough.
"Polly, wasn't it?" said Benedict. "What kind of orgy's this supposed to be?"
"Er," said Polly. "Huh? No orgy here, I don't think."
"So those two guys that just happened to sneak out of the back door just brought the mail, did they?"
Very carefully, Polly set down the coffee cup. Throwing it in Benedict's face would have been a waste of nice porcelain, really.
"Couldn't you have asked them?" she asked, clearly running on autopilot here. The missing clue, the missing clue...
"I don't think they were in the mood, really," said Benedict with as much innocence as the implication could possibly allow. "Where's Mal?"
"Sleeping," said Polly, already rushing past Benedict and out of the kitchen. The missing clue... the missing stake -
"Going upstairs now," said Polly. "Come with me or stay. This is not good."
"Yes, I gathered as much," said Benedict, trailing after her, and still faster. How did he do it? Staircase, corridor, door.
Door.
"What's this?" said Polly, stopping mid-stride. There was a faint scent in the air, clinging and sweet -
Benedict pushed the door open. "You'll get used to it," he said.
No, I don't think I want to, thanks, thought Polly, stepped through the doorframe, and then -
"What a bloody set of amateurs," she heard Benedict say. "Try not to breathe -"
"C-can't -" said Polly. To hard to try anything in here. She felt like collapsing. Not on, she thought, not on.
"Polly?" she heard Benedict say. "Get yourself together. It's okay. Nobody ever remembers they gotta cut off the head as well. I need you here."
"What for?" asked Polly. She wanted, very much, to just turn and run, now if she could only remember how to move -
"I need you to hold her down while I pull out the stake," said Benedict. "You'll never know for sure what comes back."
A faint sound of defeat escaped Polly's throat.
"Besides, I'd hazard a guess at Mal," said Benedict. "Things only get really nasty if you leave them for too long."
"If that's your idea of comforting," said Polly, "you fail."
Benedict sighed in a sophisticated manner. "Now, Polly. I'm not enjoying this any more than you are."
Polly said down on the bed next to Mal, resting her hand's on Mal's shoulders. They were icily cold, and she wasn't breathing. They must have caught her sleeping, she thought. The room looks quite intact. It wouldn't if Mal had had the chance to put up a fight.
"Ready?" asked Benedict. He wasn't actually looking at her, Polly noticed, but at some point behind her. She nodded and tried to look elsewhere, not at Benedict, who lay one hand flat on Mal's chest and pulled with the other.
There was a -
I'm going to join the Klatchian Foreign Legion, Polly thought. Anything to forget this sound.
It took the time of a heartbeat, and then Mal jerked up, drawing breath like she had never breathed before. A scream, then silence, and more breathing. Polly did her best to steady her. It didn't quite work, Mal was shaking so badly.
"Hold on to her arms," said Benedict.
He leaned forward and placed one hand under Mal's chin, pushing her head upwards.
"Open your eyes, Mal?" he suggested.
When that didn't happen, Benedict cupped her face in his hand, lightly trailing a thumb over her closed eyelid, then pulled it open.
He whistled softly.
Mal opened her mouth. A hint of teeth and Polly felt her strain forward -
In the blink of an eye, Benedict had covered her mouth with one wrist. He smiled, Polly noticed.
"Bite away, young Ribboner," he said, and his smile hardly faltered when Mal did as she was told. He did pull his arm away after a few seconds, covered in less blood than Polly thought probable and already healing, and even then Mal was just staring off into the distance, still showing no sign that she was really here at all.
Polly gave Benedict a questioning look. He shrugged.
"Dying's never fun," he said.
"She didn't die!" said Polly. She felt the warmth coming back to Mal's body. Close call, maybe, but still -
"I did," said Mal, her voice faint and her breathing still ragged, but calmer. "Gods, I'm never going to get used to this."
"Nice to have you back," said Polly. She could feel tears welling up. But she was a soldier and she wouldn't cry, not when everyone else didn't. Awful awful awful.
"My pleasure, I assure you," said Mal. She raised a hand to her lips, and startled visibly when her fingers came away red. "Oh dear," she said. "Was that really necessary, Benedict?"
"Your eyes," said Benedict, "were glowing red. Somehow I don't think you eat right, kid."
"That's what Mum said," said Mal. "You, thankfully, are not Mum, so do cut back on the dietary advice."
Benedict shrugged. "So how is the old guy?"
"Still lacking in social skills," murmured Mal. "I don't think he likes me."
"Lemme guess," said Benedict. "He's moaning again about how he needs to take on an apprentice because this kind of thing is beneath him."
"Something like."
"Er," said Polly. "Who?"
"The reaper man," said Benedict. "Surely you've met him?"
"It's a personified metaphorical thingy," said Polly, who wasn't feeling wordy. "A story for children. It's not real."
She received a glare of the stranger sort. "I don't get humans," said Benedict. "What kind of stories do they tell their children?"
"At least we don't subject them to The Amazing Adventures of Bobby the Brave Bat," said Polly. "Or whatever passes for children's literature in your circles."
"Hey, that was my favourite," said Benedict.
On a general note, Polly thought, vampires shouldn't be allowed to pout like that.
"He's standing right behind you, Pol," said Mal.
"Come on," said Polly. "Wazzer tried that trick on me. I'm not going to fall for it again." She was so not going to turn around. Someone had to stay sane in this mess.
Mal looked at Benedict, who shrugged. There was the tiniest flicker of blue light, but Polly had the denial thing up and running, so -
"Fine," said Mal. "Bring me coffee."
"Er," said Polly. "It's probably cold by now."
"... And?"
"All right," said Polly. "Benedict?"
Benedict smiled. It was a crooked smile, and he looked too much like Mal when he did that. "Back in a minute," he said, and vanished with a swirl of his black cloak.
"What happened, Mal?" asked Polly, when they were alone.
"Oh, I'm not sure," said Mal, "but I think I got killed."
Polly paused, and thought, and then ceased thinking. "Well, yes, that one's obvious," she said. "Here, let me clean you up."
She let go of Mal, hesitantly, and went to fetch the bowl of water she'd used this morning. She dipped the washcloth in.
"I'll just leave the coffee here, shall I?" said a voice from the doorframe. Mal jumped, and Polly was quite a bit surprised herself, but it was only Benedict.
"No, just give it to me and wait outside, or something," said Mal, and took the cup into shaking hands. "Ah, lukewarm sandy water. Polly, I've got to teach you the art of filtering."
"Yes," said Polly. "Definitely. Uh, later. Benedict, can you try and find some clean clothes in the laundry room? Just put them in front of the door."
"Am I chambermaid now? Great."
"I rather thought you vampires are into that kind of thing," said Polly, who was getting Fed Up. "See if you can find an apron and bonnet for yourself while you're at it."
"Huh," said Benedict. "Honestly, a bonnet?"
Mal winced, and glared. "Hurts to laugh," she said through clenched teeth. "Get out, Benedict."
There was soft laughter, a murmur along the lines of "Do your bonding, then", and the door closed.
Polly noticed Mal was maintaining a rather unsteady grip on the coffee cup, and took it from her hands, raising it to Mal's lips. She was surprised Mal allowed this.
For all she complained, Mal drank the coffee in one go, as if her life depended on it. Which, Polly thought, might possibly have been the case.
Bonding. Ha.
"Done now?" she asked. Mal nodded. "Hold still, then."
Slowly and with trembling fingers, Polly unbuttoned Mal's ripped and blood-stained shirt, and thought. And said. "You know, that's strange."
"What exactly?" asked Mal.
"There's no way they didn't notice you're a girl," said Polly, not bothering to blush, "and thus, probably not Mr. van der Zülln. As it were. Although I agree that vampires are somewhat -"
"That's humans for you," said Mal. The shirt slid off her shoulders.
Polly tried not to breathe too much. It was hard. All the blood -
Mal closed her eyes, and opened them again. "Let me do that," she said. "Feeling better, really." She took the washcloth from Polly's unresisting hands and pressed it against her chest. Mal was good at acting, as far as Polly was any judge; only a soft hiss escaped her lips.
"Yeah, right," said Polly. "Once you're over being brave, you can let me help you."
"Nah, it's all right," said Mal. "Really. I just think you shouldn't -"
Polly glanced over.
"- look," finished Mal.
"You're not trying to be modest, are you?" asked Polly, before her brain had wrapped itself around what she'd seen.
Mal snorted. "Modest," she said, with the air of someone who found an obscure entry in their vocabulary and weren't quite sure how it got there.
There was a pause.
"Doesn't seem to heal over all that well," volunteered Polly finally.
"Some things just take longer, is all," said Mal.
Another pause. "So why's there two wounds?"
"Gotta find the heart first," said Mal. "I mean, these guys weren't trained assassins. Slaughtered a pig for Hogswatchnight, at the most."
"Strange," said Polly.
"Whatever you're thinking now, please stop," said Mal. "It's okay."
"You must have had plenty of time to fight back," said Polly.
"I was sleepy. And confused. And half dreaming. And in a lot of pain," said Mal. and dropped the washcloth into the bowl. "Done," she added. Bring me something to wear?"
Polly shrugged, and went to get a clean shirt from outside. She heard Mal breathing out in relief. Ha. She grabbed the small clothes pile out of Benedict's hands.
"You listening or something?" she asked.
Benedict shrugged. "I'd never. Gonna wait downstairs, shall I?"
"You bet," said Polly, and watched him get down the stairs before turning around. He waved at her from the lower landing.
Bastard bastard bastard.
"So, Mal," said Polly, reentering the guest room "Confused, eh?"
"Yes," said Mal. "I'd also like to point out that I'm half naked and in a bed and, as a vampire, generally susceptible to the influence of narrativity, so you might want to give me something to put on before I go all cheap romance novel on you."
Polly raised an eyebrow. "Are you aiming to interrupt my train of thought, woman?"
"Of course," said Mal. "Woman."
"You're not being very subtle."
"I just died," said Mal. "You try being subtle after you've spent half an hour in conversation with the reaper man. The guy's about as subtle as a really fucking unsubtle brick wall."
Polly helped her into a woolly sort of shirt. It was checkered and scratchy and all kinds of awful and Mal still made it fit her. Astonishing, really.
"You thought it was me, didn't you?" asked Polly.
"Gonna look like a woodcutter," said Mal. "What's with these things, eh? Flannel?" Polly had to admit, even as far as warm underwear went, they had discovered a new low.
"Lovely to keep you warm," said Polly. "Now, don't try to change the topic, else I'm going to have a crisis. Involving you and quite possibly a large blunt object."
"I did think think it was you," said Mal, looking at her in an earnest sort of way. "For a very terrible and very confused second, I thought it was you attacking me, and that's why I didn't fight back."
Even though Polly had expected something like this, she didn't quite know how to react. She settled for, "Oh."
"Exactly. I was a bit shocked myself."
"You know I would never do that, right?" said Polly, and then considered the evidence, and shut up.
"Not while I'm sleeping, at least," said Mal. She got up from the bed, a bit unsteady still, but she was standing, and then, walking, and it was good.
"I think I'll have that crisis right now, anyway, only maybe without the large blunt object," said Polly. Not while she's sleeping?
"I'm with you on the crisis," said Mal. "I hate dying. A lot. Rather makes you bring out the black eyeliner."
Polly thought about it, and gave up. This sentence posed a question, and the question was -
"... What?"
"Crisis. Gotta look the part. Old vampire proverb," said Mal.
"Can I please just hug you?" asked Polly. "That's how I normally deal with crisis...es. Crisises?"
"Crises, actually," said Mal. "Plural of crisis. Really important word to know if you want to make a career in the Borogravian army - hey!"
You talk too much, thought Polly faintly, and hugged her, carefully. There were some tears involved on Polly's part, but that was all right if the exchange involved Mal being alive. Really.
"You know, Polly," said Mal, after nearly thirty seconds of not arguing at all, "I think I might like you better than eyeliner."
Polly supposed she should have felt honoured. However, was thinking of crises, plural of crisis.
"How many times have you - ?" Polly had never ever thought that a question like this was even grammatically possible. It was. That couldn't be legal.
"Second time with a stake," said Mal. "Turned to ash a total of nineteen times, though, when I was trying to get used to sunlight. Not pretty. Igor used to be after me with a vial of blood all the time." She paused. "And a dress. It got kinda expensive."
"Wow," said Polly. "Talk about dedicated."
"You know how Igors are," said Mal with a shrug.
Polly was eyeing the front and sleeve of her own shirt with deep suspicion. She would have to get changed again, on account of the blood situation.
This happened rather too often.
"I was talking about you," said Polly. "Damn it, it's a choice between checkered and ruffly now."
"Take ruffly," said Mal. "And if that was a clumsy attempt to flatter me, then consider me flattered. The checkered one has ugly buttons."
Ruffly it is, then, thought Polly. This would be somewhat acceptable if this thing didn't also have polka dots.
Not acceptable on a girl on account of being silly, not acceptable on a girl pretending to be a boy on account of being girly, not acceptable on a vampire on account of having polka dots, and not acceptable on Polly on account of being a ruffly nightmare. Who wore those things?
"You look good in that," said Mal.
"This is an outrageous lie, and you know it," said Polly.
"Well, yes, it is," said Mal. "However, I'd really like us to leave and never come back. Right now. Got everything?"
"The pack's downstairs," said Polly. "Anything else I think we can leave behind. Room's a mess, but I suppose it's justified."
She was quite surprised when Mal took her hand to drag her downstairs and into the night, but considering everything, Polly thought, she could probably live with that.
Delay caused by more exams. Seriously, this has got to stop.
Plogviehze, Baby: Chapter 6
Open her up, make her scream, paint the walls with red -
"Polly!"
"Ngk."
"Pollyyy!"
Polly desperately turned over. She bumped against someone.
"Wake up!"
"S'ill brigh' ou'side," she mumbled. It was. Also, there appeared to be a vampire sitting on her bed.
Slippery dream fabric slid off her like a dress as Polly pried her eyes open.
"Yeah, well, that's the point," said Mal, who looked thankfully whole.
"Oh, that," said Polly, slowly propping herself up and rubbing her eyes. She was not a morning person. Or evening person. Or late afternoon person, right now. Gah!
"... Shit," she added.
"What is it?" asked Mal.
"I think," said Polly, trying to concentrate. "I think," trying again, "I just killed you. In my dream."
"In your dream," said Mal, and paused, and added, "Best place for it, I suppose. How much blood?"
"Jus' a nigh'mare," mumbled Polly, her head sinking back onto the pillow. "Doesn't r'lly matter. Yes?"
"How much?"
Polly rubbed her eyes again, as the images faded. She felt slightly thankful for that.
"All of it," she said. "Since you asked. Have we d'cided onna d'cision yet?" she added, looking over to Mal. "Dammit, 's that frost on your coat?"
"Attic turned out to be a bit windy," said Mal. "And I think we agreed on spending the night in big heaps of snow, which is why I am waking you at this godawful hour." She was tying a fresh strip of cloth around her hand. Polly couldn't help but notice that it had a nice pattern of flowers.
"You couldn't sleep," said Polly, to whom the idea of big heaps of snow was, at this moment, somewhat unappealing.
"That's not entirely incorrect," said Mal. "Get up. I'd like us to leave before dusk."
"Don't you want to tell your brother we're not coming?"
"I'd rather not."
"And anyway," added Polly, "I said I was okay with staying there for a night. You know, maybe they've got coffee you can nick."
"Doubt it," said Mal. "Look, you don't know them. I do. Can we just trust my judgment here?"
"C'mere," said Polly. "Like that." She slid the icy coat off Mal's shoulders and draped her still warm blanket over her instead, noticing Mal was shivering with leftover attic cold.
"Polly, I don't think -" she began.
"I'm not doing anything," said Polly. "Warmer now? Great. Listen to me. I think we should go. That way, if they turn out to be stuck-up, aristocratic sociopaths, you can at least claim you tried. If you don't, the blame'll always be on you, 'cause you're the minority. And I can tell you miss them."
"I miss having a family," said Mal. "'s not the same."
"It's even in our direction," said Polly. "See, I'm perfectly able to look out of a window. That great black mountain far down the valley, right?" She was totally working on assumptions here, but she couldn't imagine any vampire family not building their castle on any damn mountain if a higher one was around somewhere.
"Right," said Mal. "We can walk farther than that in one night."
"Yes, but that doesn't really matter," said Polly. " Because there's no way we'll get to Ankh-Morpork in time, right?"
Polly had expected a 'yes', had hoped for a 'no'. She hadn't expected Mal to just admit defeat, letting herself sink to the side and wrapping the blanket tighter around herself.
"Fine," Mal said into the pillow. "Let's just visit my old mum. 's gonna be fun."
A 'yes', then.
"Only if you want to," said Polly to her back. It was all about choice, right?
Except for her, but -
"I don't particularly want to, no," said Mal. "I just figure I'll get this over with. And then, Ankh-Morpork. I guess it's a week from here. Less if we had a coach and horses."
Polly frowned. "But we do not have a coach and horses."
"Yes," said Mal. "But I figured, if we can't nick any coffee -"
"Mal," said Polly, "nicking a coach and horses does not count as a way of making up with your family."
"Just if the making up fails," said Mal. "Wouldn't dream of it, otherwise."
Polly thought.
"Y'know, if the villagers left their cattle behind -"
"I thought of that, too, but they gotta have left on something," said Mal. "Hard to ride a cow, really. Or a sheep." She sounded sleepy. "Or a chicken. Or a donkey."
"'s not hard to ride a donkey," said Polly.
"Mh."
"Look, how serious are you about this getting up business?" asked Polly, because while getting back to sleep sounded like the best thing ever, getting back to sleep next to Mal, though, who had stubbornly spent the day hanging upside down from some rafter in a freezing attic, and also took up the whole of the blanket, sounded entirely unmanageable.
"'m cold," mumbled Mal. "'m thoroughly un-mo-ti-va-ted."
"Sleep, then," said Polly. "I'll try and see what we can take with us, shall I?"
Mal mumbled something.
"I didn't quite catch that," said Polly. "Mal?"
"Make me coffee?" said Mal. "Big cup, only with a bit more coffee and a bit less water this time?"
Polly paused, and said: "So am I your official coffee engine now?"
"Well, old one did get stomped, y'know, and the foldaway thing is a bit of a joke," said Mal. "'s a honour, really. I do not choose my coffee engines lightly."
Polly sort of patted her hair a bit.
"And," said Mal, "I could be persuaded to get up and help you, if you just bring me coffee. Please."
-
Polly figured that Mal probably needed the sleep, and so she took her time to get dressed and do some necessary looting in the laundry room before descending to the bar.
She felt a little nervous. Something was wrong. Not quite wrong in the 'there's a manic axe murderer standing in the doorway' sense, just -
Something was wrong with the silence. Something was definitely wrong with the silence. She looked around for obvious clues, but there turned out to be a distinct lack of obvious clues.
Kitchen. Coffee. Coffee grinder. No going back upstairs, she wasn't five, and while it was sort of dim down here, she had good night vision. She still lit up a few candles.
Grinding the coffee and getting the snow from the outside and melting it in the kettle at least distracted her from the curious silence. And it took so long. The kettle was icily cold, so was the snow - no, really -, so was the kitchen until she finally managed to make fire. It all took so long, and still no obvious clue, no clue at all.
Some fair amount of noise from upstairs disrupted her. Good morning, Mal, Polly thought, and answered it with some noise of her own. Gonna pack some potatoes, gonna pack some onions, gonna pack the sorry remains of the coffee beans. Can't be hard.
More noise.
I'm going upstairs, thought Polly, I'm going upstairs, and then she thought, but the coffee is almost done. Water was boiling. She poured it over the coffee powder, and the scent of Midnight Surprise rose up. She almost sneezed.
Surprise...
Polly spun around a fraction of a second before the kitchen door was opened, coffee cup raised. Never underestimate the impact of boiling hot beverages, she thought, and then-
"You," she said, breathing some relief. Not the face she wanted to see, but close enough.
"Polly, wasn't it?" said Benedict. "What kind of orgy's this supposed to be?"
"Er," said Polly. "Huh? No orgy here, I don't think."
"So those two guys that just happened to sneak out of the back door just brought the mail, did they?"
Very carefully, Polly set down the coffee cup. Throwing it in Benedict's face would have been a waste of nice porcelain, really.
"Couldn't you have asked them?" she asked, clearly running on autopilot here. The missing clue, the missing clue...
"I don't think they were in the mood, really," said Benedict with as much innocence as the implication could possibly allow. "Where's Mal?"
"Sleeping," said Polly, already rushing past Benedict and out of the kitchen. The missing clue... the missing stake -
"Going upstairs now," said Polly. "Come with me or stay. This is not good."
"Yes, I gathered as much," said Benedict, trailing after her, and still faster. How did he do it? Staircase, corridor, door.
Door.
"What's this?" said Polly, stopping mid-stride. There was a faint scent in the air, clinging and sweet -
Benedict pushed the door open. "You'll get used to it," he said.
No, I don't think I want to, thanks, thought Polly, stepped through the doorframe, and then -
"What a bloody set of amateurs," she heard Benedict say. "Try not to breathe -"
"C-can't -" said Polly. To hard to try anything in here. She felt like collapsing. Not on, she thought, not on.
"Polly?" she heard Benedict say. "Get yourself together. It's okay. Nobody ever remembers they gotta cut off the head as well. I need you here."
"What for?" asked Polly. She wanted, very much, to just turn and run, now if she could only remember how to move -
"I need you to hold her down while I pull out the stake," said Benedict. "You'll never know for sure what comes back."
A faint sound of defeat escaped Polly's throat.
"Besides, I'd hazard a guess at Mal," said Benedict. "Things only get really nasty if you leave them for too long."
"If that's your idea of comforting," said Polly, "you fail."
Benedict sighed in a sophisticated manner. "Now, Polly. I'm not enjoying this any more than you are."
Polly said down on the bed next to Mal, resting her hand's on Mal's shoulders. They were icily cold, and she wasn't breathing. They must have caught her sleeping, she thought. The room looks quite intact. It wouldn't if Mal had had the chance to put up a fight.
"Ready?" asked Benedict. He wasn't actually looking at her, Polly noticed, but at some point behind her. She nodded and tried to look elsewhere, not at Benedict, who lay one hand flat on Mal's chest and pulled with the other.
There was a -
I'm going to join the Klatchian Foreign Legion, Polly thought. Anything to forget this sound.
It took the time of a heartbeat, and then Mal jerked up, drawing breath like she had never breathed before. A scream, then silence, and more breathing. Polly did her best to steady her. It didn't quite work, Mal was shaking so badly.
"Hold on to her arms," said Benedict.
He leaned forward and placed one hand under Mal's chin, pushing her head upwards.
"Open your eyes, Mal?" he suggested.
When that didn't happen, Benedict cupped her face in his hand, lightly trailing a thumb over her closed eyelid, then pulled it open.
He whistled softly.
Mal opened her mouth. A hint of teeth and Polly felt her strain forward -
In the blink of an eye, Benedict had covered her mouth with one wrist. He smiled, Polly noticed.
"Bite away, young Ribboner," he said, and his smile hardly faltered when Mal did as she was told. He did pull his arm away after a few seconds, covered in less blood than Polly thought probable and already healing, and even then Mal was just staring off into the distance, still showing no sign that she was really here at all.
Polly gave Benedict a questioning look. He shrugged.
"Dying's never fun," he said.
"She didn't die!" said Polly. She felt the warmth coming back to Mal's body. Close call, maybe, but still -
"I did," said Mal, her voice faint and her breathing still ragged, but calmer. "Gods, I'm never going to get used to this."
"Nice to have you back," said Polly. She could feel tears welling up. But she was a soldier and she wouldn't cry, not when everyone else didn't. Awful awful awful.
"My pleasure, I assure you," said Mal. She raised a hand to her lips, and startled visibly when her fingers came away red. "Oh dear," she said. "Was that really necessary, Benedict?"
"Your eyes," said Benedict, "were glowing red. Somehow I don't think you eat right, kid."
"That's what Mum said," said Mal. "You, thankfully, are not Mum, so do cut back on the dietary advice."
Benedict shrugged. "So how is the old guy?"
"Still lacking in social skills," murmured Mal. "I don't think he likes me."
"Lemme guess," said Benedict. "He's moaning again about how he needs to take on an apprentice because this kind of thing is beneath him."
"Something like."
"Er," said Polly. "Who?"
"The reaper man," said Benedict. "Surely you've met him?"
"It's a personified metaphorical thingy," said Polly, who wasn't feeling wordy. "A story for children. It's not real."
She received a glare of the stranger sort. "I don't get humans," said Benedict. "What kind of stories do they tell their children?"
"At least we don't subject them to The Amazing Adventures of Bobby the Brave Bat," said Polly. "Or whatever passes for children's literature in your circles."
"Hey, that was my favourite," said Benedict.
On a general note, Polly thought, vampires shouldn't be allowed to pout like that.
"He's standing right behind you, Pol," said Mal.
"Come on," said Polly. "Wazzer tried that trick on me. I'm not going to fall for it again." She was so not going to turn around. Someone had to stay sane in this mess.
Mal looked at Benedict, who shrugged. There was the tiniest flicker of blue light, but Polly had the denial thing up and running, so -
"Fine," said Mal. "Bring me coffee."
"Er," said Polly. "It's probably cold by now."
"... And?"
"All right," said Polly. "Benedict?"
Benedict smiled. It was a crooked smile, and he looked too much like Mal when he did that. "Back in a minute," he said, and vanished with a swirl of his black cloak.
"What happened, Mal?" asked Polly, when they were alone.
"Oh, I'm not sure," said Mal, "but I think I got killed."
Polly paused, and thought, and then ceased thinking. "Well, yes, that one's obvious," she said. "Here, let me clean you up."
She let go of Mal, hesitantly, and went to fetch the bowl of water she'd used this morning. She dipped the washcloth in.
"I'll just leave the coffee here, shall I?" said a voice from the doorframe. Mal jumped, and Polly was quite a bit surprised herself, but it was only Benedict.
"No, just give it to me and wait outside, or something," said Mal, and took the cup into shaking hands. "Ah, lukewarm sandy water. Polly, I've got to teach you the art of filtering."
"Yes," said Polly. "Definitely. Uh, later. Benedict, can you try and find some clean clothes in the laundry room? Just put them in front of the door."
"Am I chambermaid now? Great."
"I rather thought you vampires are into that kind of thing," said Polly, who was getting Fed Up. "See if you can find an apron and bonnet for yourself while you're at it."
"Huh," said Benedict. "Honestly, a bonnet?"
Mal winced, and glared. "Hurts to laugh," she said through clenched teeth. "Get out, Benedict."
There was soft laughter, a murmur along the lines of "Do your bonding, then", and the door closed.
Polly noticed Mal was maintaining a rather unsteady grip on the coffee cup, and took it from her hands, raising it to Mal's lips. She was surprised Mal allowed this.
For all she complained, Mal drank the coffee in one go, as if her life depended on it. Which, Polly thought, might possibly have been the case.
Bonding. Ha.
"Done now?" she asked. Mal nodded. "Hold still, then."
Slowly and with trembling fingers, Polly unbuttoned Mal's ripped and blood-stained shirt, and thought. And said. "You know, that's strange."
"What exactly?" asked Mal.
"There's no way they didn't notice you're a girl," said Polly, not bothering to blush, "and thus, probably not Mr. van der Zülln. As it were. Although I agree that vampires are somewhat -"
"That's humans for you," said Mal. The shirt slid off her shoulders.
Polly tried not to breathe too much. It was hard. All the blood -
Mal closed her eyes, and opened them again. "Let me do that," she said. "Feeling better, really." She took the washcloth from Polly's unresisting hands and pressed it against her chest. Mal was good at acting, as far as Polly was any judge; only a soft hiss escaped her lips.
"Yeah, right," said Polly. "Once you're over being brave, you can let me help you."
"Nah, it's all right," said Mal. "Really. I just think you shouldn't -"
Polly glanced over.
"- look," finished Mal.
"You're not trying to be modest, are you?" asked Polly, before her brain had wrapped itself around what she'd seen.
Mal snorted. "Modest," she said, with the air of someone who found an obscure entry in their vocabulary and weren't quite sure how it got there.
There was a pause.
"Doesn't seem to heal over all that well," volunteered Polly finally.
"Some things just take longer, is all," said Mal.
Another pause. "So why's there two wounds?"
"Gotta find the heart first," said Mal. "I mean, these guys weren't trained assassins. Slaughtered a pig for Hogswatchnight, at the most."
"Strange," said Polly.
"Whatever you're thinking now, please stop," said Mal. "It's okay."
"You must have had plenty of time to fight back," said Polly.
"I was sleepy. And confused. And half dreaming. And in a lot of pain," said Mal. and dropped the washcloth into the bowl. "Done," she added. Bring me something to wear?"
Polly shrugged, and went to get a clean shirt from outside. She heard Mal breathing out in relief. Ha. She grabbed the small clothes pile out of Benedict's hands.
"You listening or something?" she asked.
Benedict shrugged. "I'd never. Gonna wait downstairs, shall I?"
"You bet," said Polly, and watched him get down the stairs before turning around. He waved at her from the lower landing.
Bastard bastard bastard.
"So, Mal," said Polly, reentering the guest room "Confused, eh?"
"Yes," said Mal. "I'd also like to point out that I'm half naked and in a bed and, as a vampire, generally susceptible to the influence of narrativity, so you might want to give me something to put on before I go all cheap romance novel on you."
Polly raised an eyebrow. "Are you aiming to interrupt my train of thought, woman?"
"Of course," said Mal. "Woman."
"You're not being very subtle."
"I just died," said Mal. "You try being subtle after you've spent half an hour in conversation with the reaper man. The guy's about as subtle as a really fucking unsubtle brick wall."
Polly helped her into a woolly sort of shirt. It was checkered and scratchy and all kinds of awful and Mal still made it fit her. Astonishing, really.
"You thought it was me, didn't you?" asked Polly.
"Gonna look like a woodcutter," said Mal. "What's with these things, eh? Flannel?" Polly had to admit, even as far as warm underwear went, they had discovered a new low.
"Lovely to keep you warm," said Polly. "Now, don't try to change the topic, else I'm going to have a crisis. Involving you and quite possibly a large blunt object."
"I did think think it was you," said Mal, looking at her in an earnest sort of way. "For a very terrible and very confused second, I thought it was you attacking me, and that's why I didn't fight back."
Even though Polly had expected something like this, she didn't quite know how to react. She settled for, "Oh."
"Exactly. I was a bit shocked myself."
"You know I would never do that, right?" said Polly, and then considered the evidence, and shut up.
"Not while I'm sleeping, at least," said Mal. She got up from the bed, a bit unsteady still, but she was standing, and then, walking, and it was good.
"I think I'll have that crisis right now, anyway, only maybe without the large blunt object," said Polly. Not while she's sleeping?
"I'm with you on the crisis," said Mal. "I hate dying. A lot. Rather makes you bring out the black eyeliner."
Polly thought about it, and gave up. This sentence posed a question, and the question was -
"... What?"
"Crisis. Gotta look the part. Old vampire proverb," said Mal.
"Can I please just hug you?" asked Polly. "That's how I normally deal with crisis...es. Crisises?"
"Crises, actually," said Mal. "Plural of crisis. Really important word to know if you want to make a career in the Borogravian army - hey!"
You talk too much, thought Polly faintly, and hugged her, carefully. There were some tears involved on Polly's part, but that was all right if the exchange involved Mal being alive. Really.
"You know, Polly," said Mal, after nearly thirty seconds of not arguing at all, "I think I might like you better than eyeliner."
Polly supposed she should have felt honoured. However, was thinking of crises, plural of crisis.
"How many times have you - ?" Polly had never ever thought that a question like this was even grammatically possible. It was. That couldn't be legal.
"Second time with a stake," said Mal. "Turned to ash a total of nineteen times, though, when I was trying to get used to sunlight. Not pretty. Igor used to be after me with a vial of blood all the time." She paused. "And a dress. It got kinda expensive."
"Wow," said Polly. "Talk about dedicated."
"You know how Igors are," said Mal with a shrug.
Polly was eyeing the front and sleeve of her own shirt with deep suspicion. She would have to get changed again, on account of the blood situation.
This happened rather too often.
"I was talking about you," said Polly. "Damn it, it's a choice between checkered and ruffly now."
"Take ruffly," said Mal. "And if that was a clumsy attempt to flatter me, then consider me flattered. The checkered one has ugly buttons."
Ruffly it is, then, thought Polly. This would be somewhat acceptable if this thing didn't also have polka dots.
Not acceptable on a girl on account of being silly, not acceptable on a girl pretending to be a boy on account of being girly, not acceptable on a vampire on account of having polka dots, and not acceptable on Polly on account of being a ruffly nightmare. Who wore those things?
"You look good in that," said Mal.
"This is an outrageous lie, and you know it," said Polly.
"Well, yes, it is," said Mal. "However, I'd really like us to leave and never come back. Right now. Got everything?"
"The pack's downstairs," said Polly. "Anything else I think we can leave behind. Room's a mess, but I suppose it's justified."
She was quite surprised when Mal took her hand to drag her downstairs and into the night, but considering everything, Polly thought, she could probably live with that.