Monstrous Regiment

his eyes.
    “You are in no position to be ignorant,” he said. “We won’t hurt them, I assure you.”
    There was a scream in the distance.
    “Much,” said the sergeant with more satisfaction than necessary. There was another yell. The captain nodded to the man by the door, who slipped out.
    Polly pulled the shako out from under the bar and put it on.
    “One of them gave you his cap, did he?” said the sergeant, and his teeth were nowhere near as good as the officer’s. “Well, I like a girl who’ll smile at a soldier—”
    The cudgel hit him alongside the head. It was old blackthorn, and he went down like a tree.
    The captain backed away as Polly came out from behind the bar with the club readied again. But he hadn’t drawn his sword, and he was laughing.
    “Now, girl, if you want—” He caught her arm as she swung, dragged her toward him in a tight grip, still laughing, and folded up with a gasp as her knee connected with his sock drawer. Thank you, Gummy.
    As he sagged, she stepped back and brought the cudgel down on his helmet, making it ring.
    She was shaking. She felt sick. Her stomach was a small, red-hot lump.
    What else could she have done? Was she supposed to think We have met the enemy and he is nice? Anyway, he wasn’t. He was smug.
    She tugged a saber from a scabbard and crept out into the night. It was still raining, and waist-deep mist was drifting up from the river. Half a dozen or so were outside, but not tied up. A trooper was waiting with them.
    Faintly, against the rustle of the rain, she heard him making soothing noises to comfort one of them. She wished she hadn’t heard that.
    Well, she’d taken the shilling. Polly gripped the cudgel.
    She’d gone a step when the mist between her and the man fountained up slowly as something rose out of it. The horses shifted uneasily. The man turned, a shadow moved, the man fell…
    “Oi!” whispered Polly.
    The shadow turned.
    “Ozzer? It’s me, Maladict,” it said. “Sarge sent me to see if you needed help…”
    “Bloody Jackrum left me surrounded by armed men!” Polly hissed.
    “And?”
    “Well, I…knocked two of them out,” she said, feeling as she said it that this rather spoiled her case as a victim. “Another one went over the road, though.”
    “I think we got that one,” said Maladict. “Well, I said ‘got’…Tonker nearly gutted him. There’s a girl with what I’d call unresolved issues.” He turned around. “Let’s see…seven horses, seven men. Yep.”
    “Tonker?” said Polly.
    “Oh, yes. Hadn’t you spotted her? She went mad when the man charged at Lofty. Now, let’s have a look at your gentlemen, shall we?” said Maladict, heading for the door.
    “But Lofty and Tonker…” Polly began, running to keep up. “I mean, the way they act, they…I thought she was his girl…but I thought Tonker…I mean, I know Lofty is a gi—”
    Even in the dark, Maladict’s teeth gleamed as he smiled.
    “The world’s certainly unfolding itself for you, eh? Ozzer? Every day, something new. Cross-dressing now, I see.”
    “What?”
    “You are wearing a petticoat, Ozzer,” said Maladict, stepping into the bar. Polly looked down guiltily and started to tug it off, and then thought: hang on a moment…
    The sergeant had managed to pull himself up against the bar, where he was being sick. The captain was groaning on the floor.
    “Good evening, gentlemen!” said the vampire. “Please pay attention. I am a reformed vampire, which is to say, I am a bundle of suppressed instincts held together with spit and coffee. It would be wrong to say that violent, tearing carnage does not come easily to me. It’s not tearing your throats out that doesn’t come easily to me. Please don’t make it any harder.”
    The sergeant pushed himself away from the bar top and took a muzzy swing at Maladict. Almost absentmindedly, Maladict leaned away from it and then returned a roundhouse blow that knocked him over.
    “The captain looks bad,” he said. “What did he try to do to poor little you?”
    “Patronize me,” said Polly, glaring at Maladict.
    “Ah,” said the vampire.

    Maladict knocked softly on the barracks door. It opened a fraction, and then all the way. Carborundum lowered his club.
    Wordlessly, Polly and Maladict dragged the two cavalry men inside.
    Sergeant Jackrum was sitting on a stool by the fire, drinking a mug of beer.
    “Well done, lads,” he said. “Put ’em with the others.” He waved the mug