The Devil in Green

by Mark Chadbourn

  ‘—and then they’re hoping to get some kind of local power sources up and running, if they can,’ Warwick continued.

  ‘How are they going to do that?’ Daniels said. ‘I heard all the nuclear power stations had gone … wiped out somehow. There can’t be any kind of oil or gas supplies—’

  ‘I’m only reporting what I heard,’ Warwick snapped.

  Daniels clapped his hands. ‘Things could be getting back to normal,’ he said enthusiastically.

  ‘Whoop-de-doo.’ Mallory remained unmoved.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Don’t you remember what it was like? Work, money, power-seeking, mundanity, no time for anyone to live or breathe.’

  ‘You need to lighten up, Mallory. It was never as bad as all that.’

  ‘Yes, it was - you just get numb to it. You sink down into it, like a swamp, and forget there’s fresh air above. The clock has been set back at zero, Daniels - it’s a chance finally to get things right. It doesn’t mean we have to take on board all the shit to get the good stuff back, but that’s the way it’s going to be if the same old people end up in charge again. They’ve got a vested interest in the society we had before. It made them fat and rich and powerful.’

  ‘You know what you are Mallory - an anarchist.’

  ‘You say that as though it’s a bad thing.’

  ‘If you two have completed your irrelevant navel-gazing, I’ve finished here.’ Warwick covered the body with a little more reverence than he had shown before.

  ‘What did you find?’ Daniels asked.

  ‘It’s inconclusive.’

  ‘That’s all you can say after all that?’

  ‘He’s been torn apart with such frenzy it’s impossible to tell what weapon was used. It could just as easily have been a wild animal, if there were any indigenous species that could attack with this ferocity.’

  Daniels looked to Mallory. ‘So we’ve got someone in here who’s such a mess in the head we can’t tell if he’s a man or an animal?’

  ‘Now see what happens when you take red meat out of the diet.’ Mallory had a sudden overview of the whole situation that left him cold. ‘So we’ve got all those things outside the walls trapping us in here, and now we’ve got this psycho inside with us. I can think of a lot of clichés to describe our situation, but they all involve dumb animals being eaten up by smarter, wilder ones.’

  Daniels stared blankly into the middle-distance. ‘What are we going to do now?’

  The great hall had the uneasy atmosphere that permeated all the new buildings, but it was made even worse by the spiralling desperation and anxiety in the wake of Cornelius’s murder. The vast expanse was filled with clustering shadows not even a row of blazing torches could dispel. The furthest the illumination reached was a row of hideous oversized gargoyles halfway up the wall. Whoever had designed them had made it seem as though they were looking down on those assembled below either disapprovingly or threateningly, depending on your perspective.

  The knights stood in two ranks. Most shuffled and muttered apprehensively at what might now lie ahead for them. The Blues, though, were silent and disciplined, eyes fixed firmly ahead as if on parade. Mallory watched them with the wariness of a competing species. They were too professional, too far removed from the other knights; and probably too ruthless and violent as well, if Blaine had truly cast them in his own image. Why had he seen fit to create an elite force of knights? Why not simply train all knights to the same standard? And why were they so rarely seen around the cathedral? What special project did Blaine have them working on? The more he understood the hierarchies and powers within the cathedral, the more suspicious he became of them on every level.

  Blaine marched in after they had been assembled for twenty minutes. He was accompanied by Hipgrave, who had managed to shake off some of the daze that had characterised him earlier, and the captain of the Blues, a muscular, square-jawed thirty-year-old by the name of Roeser.

  Blaine didn’t waste time getting to the crux of the matter. ‘You’ll all have heard the news by now. The bishop is dead … murdered … perpetrator unknown. Others are dealing with the leadership fallout of such a great loss at such a difficult time. Our role in this is clearly defined and we must be single-minded about its execution, despite the many obvious distractions the days ahead must hold. Although security has been foremost in our minds ever since we established ourselves here in Salisbury, our defences have still been compromised. I will be launching an immediate inquiry to discover exactly what went wrong, and if there have been any lapses in the responsibilities of individuals, make no mistake, they will be severely punished.

  ‘But the most pressing concern is to ensure that whoever carried out this atrocity is caught and brought to immediate justice before he can commit any further crimes. This will naturally entail some short-term loss of personal freedom. Some movement around the compound will be restricted. Premises and possessions may be searched and confiscated. There will undoubtedly be detailed questioning and cross-questioning. Patrols will have to be stepped up.’ He paused. ‘The use of lethal force will be approved. The safety of the brethren is our overarching concern. Unfortunately, that means we may have to take actions that go against our nature, but we make these sacrifices as Christians, for the benefit of others. It is our job sometimes to do unpleasant things so the brethren do not have to. That is the cross we bear.

  ‘All of you are security-minded and will understand the necessity of these measures to prevent any more acts of unadulterated Evil. In this role, we will need to be seen to be acting with the utmost rigour and decorum. Anyone who lets the side down will not want to live, believe me. Captains Hipgrave and Roeser will oversee your allocation into effective units with particular responsibilities. A more structured shift-pattern will be drawn up to accommodate these changes. One other thing: we shall be working alongside the Inquisition of Heretical Depravity and your full co-operation will be required.’ He nodded curtly and exited. It was a well-rehearsed speech that Mallory found quite chilling, the more so for its modulated language.

  ‘He’s left Hipgrave in charge? Blaine’s crazy,’ Daniels whispered. ‘Look at him - he’s falling apart. I wouldn’t let Hipgrave oversee a Sunday school.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of any of this,’ Mallory said.

  ‘Why not?’ Gardener said sullenly. ‘It’s necessary.’

  ‘Is it? Sounds to me like an over-reaction. Or a chance for people who love control and discipline to seize more of it.’

  ‘We don’t want any of that weak talk.’ There was an uncommonly harsh edge to Gardener’s voice. ‘If we go soft now we won’t stand a chance. You think those things out there are soft? You think the Devil’s soft?’

  ‘All right, Gardener, calm down.’ Daniels laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re all in this together and we’ll all play our part.’

  Mallory wanted to talk about how the loss of personal freedom and the involvement of the Inquisition in a criminal affair was more evidence of the medieval mentality that had infected the cathedral, but he bit his tongue. There were times when there was no arguing with Gardener.

  Miller was pale and wide-eyed. ‘I’ve been thinking—’

  ‘You don’t learn, do you, Miller?’ Mallory said.

  ‘No one in this cathedral could have done that awful thing to the bishop,’ Miller continued. ‘You say those creatures outside can’t come in here, but do we know that for sure? I think this is linked to the appearance of all the new buildings. Sometimes they seem as though they go on for ever. The killer … the Devil … could be hiding in there.’

  They all thought about this for a moment until Mallory said, ‘Have you had a blow to the head, Miller? A good idea - unbelievable.’

  ‘We should tell Hipgrave …’ Daniels began, until he saw the captain’s blank expression as he wandered along the lines splitting the knights into groups.

  ‘This is down to us,’ Gardener said, with fire.
‘We’ve got to search the place.’

  ‘We’ll have to do it without Blaine knowing,’ Mallory said. ‘He’ll think we’re just skiving. Or worse, involved in some way. It’ll be hard.’

  Gardener gripped his wrist forcefully. ‘We can do it.’

  Strands of luminescent mist drifted eerily across the rolling moor, collecting in the hollows where it turned with a life of its own. Boulders of dark- grey granite were scattered here and there amongst clumps of spiky gorse and saplings swaying gently in the breeze. It was night. Across the sable sky a trail of stars swirled, diamond lights, cold and sharp. A full moon hung high overhead casting a bright light that painted the landscape silver and sent long black shadows stretching out across the stony path along which Mallory walked. It had the feel of late-summer-turning-autumn about it: still warm enough for shirt sleeves but with an encroaching chill.

  Mallory paused to survey the moon and stars for a long period. They mesmerised him, spoke loudly of infinite wonder and distant magic. The air smelled so good, thick with the rich perfume of night-time vegetation. His breathing was deep; he felt at peace.

  He followed the path across the moor to a thick glade on a hill that rose up out of the flat countryside. The oak and ash, rowan and hawthorn were all ancient, their trunks twisted, their branches heavy and gnarled. Beneath their cover it was cooler, tranquil. Dry twigs crunched beneath his feet; the leaf mould felt like a carpet.

  ‘Hello, Mallory.’

  Her voice sounded like the chime of a crystal glass, filling him with such a swell of emotion that he felt as if he was rising off the ground.

  ‘Everything is so heightened here,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll get used to it.’

  Sophie leaned nonchalantly against an oak tree, her arms folded. He thought how beautiful she looked there, not just in the superficial qualities of her features, but in the complexity of intelligence he saw in her dark eyes; there were depths he could never plumb. Emotions rose in him mysteriously, the truth freed from the chains of conditioning and fear. In that potent place, the pure part of him that he kept tucked away recognised connections not made on any physical plane, bonds that transcended consciousness.

  ‘You look amazing,’ he said.

  She laughed gently. ‘You are so going to regret saying that when you’re out of this place.’

  The moon broke through the branches to highlight her, centre stage. ‘Why are we here?’ he asked.

  Once more dark and troubled, she looked away through the trees, out across the rolling moor. ‘I wanted to see you.’

  Her mood triggered his memory of the incident in the camp with Gardener, and all the blood. ‘I’m sorry for what happened,’ he said. ‘I felt bad about that. If I could have found any way to put it right …’

  ‘I can see that now. Here, in this place, things are much clearer. That’s why I came.’

  Puzzled, he looked around as if he were seeing the glade for the first time. ‘This place—’

  ‘Here we strip away the barriers we put up against the world.’ She smiled again. ‘Well, you do. I’m used to it.’

  Perspective began creeping up on him. ‘Am I dreaming?’

  ‘If you want to look at it with a limited perception, sure.’

  ‘You’re as infuriating in my dreams as you are in real life.’

  ‘I try,’ she said.

  ‘Are you practising your Craft? Is that what this is?’

  ‘I don’t practice any more, Mallory. I’m a professional at this now.’ She stepped away from the tree and led the way deeper into the glade. Mallory followed her without a second thought. Her voice floated back to him, detached, ethereal. ‘So … now I’ve seen you … seen the truth in you … I forgive you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But not those who you hang out with. Never that.’

  ‘No.’ He wanted to touch her hair, it looked so silky in the moonlight, but she was just a little too far ahead. ‘Where is this place?’

  ‘Inside your head. Outside your head. Like I said, it depends on your perception.’ Her fingers brushed the trees as she passed as if she were caressing them.

  ‘Can I kiss you?’

  She chuckled quietly. ‘You want to bite down on those emotions, Mallory, or you’re going to have no protection when you get back to the world.’

  ‘Well?’ His unrestrained feelings burned through him like electricity. He recognised how deeply he felt about her, wanted to grab her and make love to her, do all the things he couldn’t do in the real world of barriers and hardship and obligation. The purity of emotion was so overwhelming it was hallucinogenic, a drug he never wanted to give up. Did she feel the same way?

  When she turned to face him, he saw for the first time the honesty in her that she had spoken about in him, and he realised that here, perhaps, was someone with whom he could spend the rest of his life. ‘Not this time,’ she said. ‘I want to be sure I have the measure of you. I choose my friends carefully, Mallory, but once my mind is made up I keep them close to me for ever.’

  ‘You seem so much older than your age.’

  ‘Not older, wiser. I’m a wise woman. I’ve learned a lot in my few years, but there’s a lot more to learn. Stick with me, Mallory - some of it might rub off.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  This time she covered her mouth when she laughed. ‘You are going to be so sick the next time we meet face to face.’

  ‘You’re in your camp … I’m trapped in the cathedral,’ he began. ‘Can we meet up like this again?’

  ‘Very Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it?’ She looked a little sad at this. ‘Yes, we can meet again.’

  ‘How do I come here … contact you?’

  ‘You don’t. I’m in charge here, Mallory, don’t forget that.’ Her laughter was infectious; he felt an honest smile for the first time in a long while. ‘I’ll be back in touch.’

  She moved off through the trees, but although he tried to keep up, she drew ahead rapidly. ‘Don’t go,’ he called.

  Her voice came back like moonlight. ‘I’ll be back.’ And then she was gone.

  And so was he.

  Mallory woke in the best mood he had felt for a long time, not knowing why, but with the sense of something wonderful hovering just beyond his grasp. Even the biting cold of the room didn’t dull his elation.

  It was still two hours to daybreak, but the cathedral was already alive. Torches blazed around the cobbled meeting square at the heart of the new buildings. Breath formed white clouds as the knights stamped their boots and clapped their hands to keep warm. A group of about twenty brothers had assembled to one side where they were being given shovels, pickaxes and wooden props.

  Blaine marched along the ranks, wrapped in a thick cloak but with the hood pulled back so that everyone could see his eyes. He paused briefly at Mallory, allowing a silent warning to rise up in his face before he moved on. It was nothing new, but an uneasy thought crept up on Mallory: if things went bad a scapegoat would be needed, and he was the most likely candidate. It would be in his own interest to have a contingency plan for escape the moment the tunnel was completed.

  ‘They’re going to have their work cut out for them,’ Daniels whispered, nodding towards the digging party.

  ‘I’d pick up a spade myself if I thought it would get me out of here any quicker,’ Mallory said.

  ‘No talking.’ Hipgrave stood before them. His face was cold and hard and clear of the dazed attitude they had seen the previous day. He leaned between them and said quietly, ‘I’ve had a revelation. The Devil is here, in the cathedral. And it’s up to us to exorcise him. It was the five of us, you see … the five points of the inverted pentacle. We were the ones who brought him in. We’re the only ones who can get him out. We’ll discuss this later.’ He walked away, casting only a cursory glance over the other knights.

  ‘Lordy,’ Daniels said. ‘He’s set up home in the bughouse.’

  An oppressive sense of claustrophobia fell acro
ss Mallory. The walls were closing in, shutting down options, filling him with a desperate feeling that he would never get out alive.

  Blaine had them all on ceaseless patrols throughout the day to keep them occupied while plans were formulated. Meanwhile, other events were clearly taking place behind the scenes. From the roof, Mallory watched grim-faced elders hurrying back and forth between the bishop’s palace and the new buildings, occasionally pausing to talk animatedly to each other. Every now and then a gaggle of six or seven would congregate, their voices rising in debate until they spotted someone drawing near. Stefan, however, was nowhere to be seen.

  Up there, he had a clear view of the pagan camp where the Samhain bonfires still burned. Occasionally, he could smell cooking food and hear music drifting on the cold wind. Briefly, he entertained the fantasy that he could see Sophie and she could see him, but it only made him feel worse and he forced himself to stop.

  As Mallory made his way down from the roof, he came across two of the brothers talking conspiratorially as they loitered in an alcove beneath one of the great staircases. There was something in their tone that made Mallory pause on the steps to listen.

  ‘I’m getting out of here first chance I get - soon as that tunnel’s open,’ one of them said in a Black Country accent.

  ‘You can’t turn your back on us,’ the other one, another Midlander, said. ‘You can’t turn your back on the Lord!’

  ‘When I first talked about coming down here, the missis said I was mad. We’d prayed all the way through that bloody nightmare after the Fall, and nothing. People died, people suffered. No Second Coming. There were miracles all over the shop, but for us … Christians … not a tweet. But I said to her, “Don’t expect miracles. Just know Jesus is with you. That’s all we can ask of Him.”’

  ‘That’s right. That’s exactly right.’

  ‘So she walked out on me and I came down here. But I kept my chin up … I kept my faith.’ His voice turned disconsolate at the end.

  ‘Mickey—’

  ‘Now look what’s happened - it’s gone from bad to bloody worse. This was supposed to be the big shining example - a new start, spreading the Word, bringing hope to the people.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘And now we’re trapped, and we’re going to be starving, and winter’s coming in, and the Devil’s at the gates, and now some bastard’s picking us off inside! The bishop, I ask you! Not even he’s safe! What’s the bloody point if God doesn’t even save him? You know what it says to me? Either He doesn’t care or He isn’t there.’