The Devil in green da-1

by Marc Chadbourn

  'Something like that.' Her gaze felt as if it was cutting through all his carefully prepared defences and he quickly looked away.

  A teenager with dreadlocks bleached a brilliant white appeared beside her. 'Come on, let's move.' His eyes flickered furtively towards the Devil in the sky.

  The group Mallory had decided were New Age travellers headed quickly down the street, the woman at the heart of them, pausing only briefly to see if Mallory was following.

  'What are we going to do?' Miller asked anxiously.

  'Stand here or run.' Mallory didn't wait to see Miller's choice.

  They veered away from the cathedral along Crane Street, over the river bridge to Queen Elizabeth Gardens where the tent city sprawled. The cries had become a nerve-jangling chorus, rising up all around as though everyone in the city was aware of what was bearing down on them. The horned shape had dissipated, to be replaced by a rushing wind that had substance and its own inner darkness screaming in at roof-height. Chimney pots crashed down, sending slates showering into the street. The glass of streetlights exploded as if crushed by a malicious hand.

  As they ran towards the tents, they were all knocked from their feet by the Shockwave of a powerful blast. Rubble rained down all around, most of it reduced to less than the size of a fist. With ringing ears, Mallory looked back to see part of the shopping quarter on fire, a column of thick black smoke rising up to the serpentine winged creature, now clearly visible.

  'A Fabulous Beast.' The woman sat nearby, rubbing at her temple, which was now streaked with brick dust. 'And it's angry?' She threw off her daze and hauled Miller to his feet, urging him to move. Mallory was surprised to feel a twinge of jealousy for the touch of her hand. 'We need to get within the camp,' she said, which Mallory found faintly ridiculous when the only shelter there was a thin covering of canvas or plastic.

  The travellers surged into the camp before scuttling beneath trees to avoid the still-raining debris that took out more than one tent. The bursts of fire screaming from the sky were like some hellish vision of a wartime air raid, but the dark presence that fell across everything was far worse; it was as if shadowy fingers were plucking at their souls.

  'We can't stay here!' Miller squealed impotently. 'We need to find a hiding place!'

  'Chill.' The dreadlocked teen slapped a hand on Miller's shoulder, pressing him down. 'We're safe, if we don't get brained by a flying brick. See — protected.' He pointed to a post hung with strings of crystals, feathers and small animal bones. Similar posts were staked out around the perimeter as far as Mallory could see.

  'Kill me now,' he said. 'We're doomed.' He tried to discern the location of what the woman had called the Fabulous Beast, but the glare from numerous torches lighting the camp made it difficult to see. The devil- wind rushed around the boundaries of the camp before delving back into the city.

  'Can't you feel it?' Miller rubbed at his skin as if he had scabies. Mallory could: the touch of some intelligence so far beyond him he couldn't begin to categorise it, creeping through the labyrinth of his mind, swinging open locked doors, bringing wild panic into die civilised centres, dark and hateful and very, very old. Despite himself, he shuffled back until he felt the security of a tree trunk.

  Gradually, the panic passed. The Fabulous Beast and the dark wind accompanying it had focused on another part of the city.

  'It won't come this way. We can't be seen,' the woman said, to reassure him.

  'Right. We pretend we're trees. Or do we just cover our eyes really, really tight?' Mallory watched the sky, having decided he'd run for cover under the river bridge when the things came back. 'What's your name?' he asked.

  'Sophie Tallent.'

  'Mallory. And that person trying to burrow under the soil is Miller. You're the boss?'

  'Here? No, of course not.'

  'You really believe this…' He nodded to the posts. '… is going to keep you safe?'

  'Do you see the Fabulous Beast and that other thing attacking us?'

  'And if you wish hard enough the sun might come up tomorrow.' He grabbed Miller roughly by the collar of his jacket and lifted him off the ground. 'Come on — we might still be able to make the compound.'

  As they moved towards the perimeter, they were surprised by the insistence in Sophie's voice as she called, 'Don't cross the boundary!' She was right behind them, one imploring arm stretched out. 'You'll be seen. Really. You need to believe-'

  Her voice was drowned out by the rushing wind sweeping through the streets at hurricane force. Hidden in the noise was the sound of screaming voices that brought a chill to Mallory's spine. A building collapsed nearby. The force rushed towards the cathedral, dragging what seemed like all hell in its wake. When it reached its destination, there was a sound of thunder and a metallic crashing before it soared high into the air. Screeching, it continued to circle the cathedral compound.

  Pale and shaking, Miller made the sign of the cross.

  'Let's sit. You can't go out there till things have quietened down,' Sophie said.

  Every rational argument told Mallory to ignore her, but he was already under her spell; the attraction had been instantaneous — he had never met anyone he wanted to know so keenly, though he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was that entranced him. With a shove, he encouraged Miller to follow her towards the fire, though they both continually glanced over their shoulders at the oppressive presence over the city.

  By the time they found a quiet spot away from the other pockets of travellers and sat down, Mallory had almost started to believe that the thing wouldn't attack. They were joined by the dreadlocked teenager who appeared to be less of a friend and more of an assistant to Sophie. He introduced himself as Rick.

  Miller crossed himself again, craning his neck upwards fearfully. 'That's the Devil,' he said, hoping someone would dissuade him of the notion.

  'It was certainly scary,' Sophie said, 'though I'm not much of a believer in the Devil myself.' She leaned over and gave Miller's hand a reassuring squeeze. 'You're safe here.' He visibly calmed at her touch.

  Miller looked to Mallory for support. 'It's like in Revelations. The Last Days. The Church has collapsed… I mean, it's not gone,' he added guiltily, 'but it's barely hanging on. We've had war, and starvation, and… and…' Panic crossed his face once more. 'It was the Devil… you saw it… you felt it… the fear. Everything's ending.' He hugged his arms around himself tightiy, staring blankly into the middle-distance.

  In a glance, something passed briefly between Sophie and Rick, then she leaned over and rested a small crystal from a pouch at her waist against Miller's forehead. There was an instant reaction: Miller's posture shifted, his shoulders loosening, his features becoming brighter, almost as if a shadow had been drawn from his face. Mallory looked at her curiously, but she studiously avoided his eyes.

  'This is like a little town,' Miller said with incongruous brightness. 'How long are you staying here?'

  'For good.' A breeze caught Sophie's hair. Despite the now-faint screeching high above them, a surprising tranquillity lay over the camp. Sophie noticed Mallory's recognition of the calm. 'There's a deep spirituality in the land here,' she said. 'That's why we've come. That's why we'll continue to come, from all parts of the country.'

  'A ley line-' Rick began.

  Mallory snorted derisively.

  'I might have expected that response before the Fall,' Sophie said, 'but things are different now, surely you know that? We've got our technology back, but these days spirituality is just as potent a force-'

  Miller nodded. 'The power of prayer.'

  'There's an energy in the land, an energy that runs through us, too. You can call it spirit, or soul, but everything is tied together by it-' Sophie's face hardened slightly at Mallory's dismissive laughter. 'I believe in it because I feel it,' she said, 'and because it works.'

  'It's Sophie's power source.' Rick smiled at them. 'Her battery. You should see what she can do.' The awe in the teenager's voice
was affecting.

  The discussion touched something in Miller. 'It's true, Mallory. Back in Swindon, I saw an old woman lay her hands on a baby that was about to die… and it lived. It's like, if you believe in something strongly enough, you can tap into something, make it real. All the atheists used to say there was no evidence of God, but now He's here, answering prayers.' A notion dawned on him. 'Perhaps it's because these really are the Last Days. Good and Evil preparing for the last battle…'

  'They've been saying the Last Days are here ever since the Book of Revelation was written, Miller. I'm not going to start running my life around something composed at a time before underwear had been invented.' He waved away Miller's hurt expression. 'These days, everybody's desperate to find something to believe in,' he continued. 'They can't face what a nightmare the world's turned into… how many people have died… how hard it's become. It's made children of everyone. They're wishing for a way out because the alternative is decades… at the very least… of hardship and suffering as we try to crawl back to some measure of the society we had before. Look around… we're back in the Dark Ages.'

  Sophie listened carefully, but gave no sign of what she was thinking. 'And what do you believe in, Mallory?' she asked.

  'Nothing. That's what I believe in.'

  'Everyone believes in something. But sometimes they don't recognise what they put their faith in. Money, drugs, sex-'

  'That works for me.'

  Her eyes narrowed as she examined his face. 'No, it's none of those things. There's something there, but I can't tell exactly…'

  He had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that she was trying to read his mind. He broke eye contact. 'You're just being dazzled by my charisma and earthy sex appeal.'

  She smiled ironically. 'That must be what it is.'

  Miller hugged his knees. The firelight actually gave some colour to his normally pallid face. 'Who are you people?'

  'Pagans, philosophers,' Rick began. 'Environmentalists, travellers, freethinkers-'

  'There's a movement going on all over the country, Mallory. We're just one sign of it,' Sophie said passionately. 'We're rebuilding a new Celtic Nation from the ground up. You don't have to have Celtic blood to be a part of it, but we're using that ancient culture as a template-'

  'If you're trying to get some kind of historical credence, you're off to a bad start,' Mallory interrupted. 'There was no Celtic Nation, just a bunch of tribes-'

  'With a similar culture, music, belief system-'

  'Fragmentary. The Romantics built them up into something bigger… a fantasy…'

  'Exactly.' She leaned forwards, emphasising the word with a blow of her palm to die ground. 'You've obviously read the right books, Mallory, but you're missing the point. We want an ideal. The system we had before was woefully bereft. It worked for a few, the elite, the Establishment, and disenfranchised the many. We've got a chance here to start with a clean slate and we want something better.'

  'So you're going to cover yourself with blue paint and go into war naked?'

  Her smile was a challenge. 'If we have to. I love to see cynics proved wrong, Mallory. As an aside, don't go basing your views of the Celts on the writings of some tired old Romans. The victors write history and they disempower the vanquished. What we want is a society of equality, a strong community that looks after the weakest members, that's close to nature, that emphasises the arts and spirituality over making money and personal greed-'

  'Well, when you put it like that

  She watched him cautiously with those big, unnaturally dark eyes, slowly getting the measure of him. He relished her attention, enjoyed the fact that, liked or disliked, he had somehow been raised above the herd in her eyes. 'If we don't do it, there'll be plenty ready to take us back to the old, failed ways,' she said.

  'OK, that seems a reasonable motivation,' Mallory conceded, 'but all this other stuff…' He waved a dismissive hand towards the perimeter posts.

  'It's part of the human condition to be arrogant.' Her smile was as confrontational as Mallory's words. 'Everyone thinks they know exactly how the world works. Everyone.' Irony laced her comments. 'What do you think that suggests? We're all fumbling in the dark towards an answer.'

  The calming atmosphere in the camp had almost made them forget the devastation going on in the city beyond. Occasionally, they would be distracted by a sudden pillar of fire, or when the wind with its chilling voices rushed close by, but generally they felt cosseted in an atmosphere of security that made Mallory face up to the possibility there might be something in the travellers' magical thinking.

  They continued their conversation well into the night. Mallory enjoyed the challenge of sparring with Sophie's sharp intellect, and it soon became apparent that Sophie found something intriguing in Mallory, too, though whether she liked him was a different matter. She maintained eye contact, spoke to him much more than she did to Miller, and underneath it all there was definite sexual tension. Sophie spoke warmly of her background, growing up in Cambridge, father a doctor, mother a lawyer, studying English at university before feeling there was more to life. She committed herself to campaigning: for the environment, for Amnesty International, was briefly arrested during a protest against the World Trade Organisation that got out of hand. Mallory was taken by the rich depth of her beliefs and the passion she exhibited. She was so full of life he felt revitalised being next to her.

  He, in return, told her nothing, but he did it in a humorous enough way to win her over.

  Other members of the community came and went during the night hours, occasionally bringing them food — roasted vegetables, branded snacks that had a desirable rarity post-Fall — and cider. They were uncommonly cheerful; most of the people Mallory encountered in life were surly, suspicious, broken or downright violent. Probably all on drugs, he thought, yet he felt oddly disturbed that they were genuinely pleased to see him, and never once questioned who he was or from where he came.

  At one point, an impromptu music session broke out, with guitars, harmonicas, saxophones and makeshift percussion, intermingling old pop songs and traditional folk tunes. It was the first time he had heard them since the Fall and he was surprised at how powerfully they tugged at his emotions.

  But there was also something about the idyll that irritated Mallory: they had no right to be so content when the rest of the world had a cast of misery. 'So who's in charge here?' he said. 'Or is it one of those idealistic communes where everything starts to fall apart the moment the washing- up rota comes into play?'

  Sophie thought briefly, then said to Rick, 'How is she?'

  'She'll probably be asleep.'

  'Let's check. She likes the night.' She stood up and motioned for Mallory and Miller to follow. They picked their way amongst the tents, past many smaller fires, to a larger tent outside which two torches blazed.

  Sophie disappeared inside, emerging a moment later to say, 'She'll see you.'

  The interior of the tent was shadowy, warm and perfumed with lavender. The front section contained a few chairs, rugs, pot plants — one of them cannabis, Mallory noted — and ornaments with a faintly occult bent, including the skull of a cow.

  The second section lay behind a purple velvet drape. Here, it was even gloomier and it took a second or two for their eyes to adjust. There was a large wooden bed that appeared medieval in origin and must have been brought from somewhere in the city, and on it lay a woman in her late forties, her long black hair streaked with silver. Despite the heat emanating from a brazier in one corner, she sprawled beneath several thick blankets. Her face was nearly white and drawn, as though she had some debilitating illness. Her gaze, though, was incisive, and she fixed instantly on Mallory.

  'This is Melanie,' Sophie said quietly.

  Mallory introduced himself and Miller. The woman gave off a peaceful air, as if whatever lay in the ground at that site had been absorbed by her.

  'I hope my friends have been looking after you.' Her voice was hoarse, almost a whis
per.

  'You've got a good crowd here,' Mallory said.

  That appeared to please her. 'Sophie seems to think the two of you are very likeable, too.'

  Mallory glanced at Sophie who blushed and looked away.

  'We're trying to fit in with the locals,' Melanie continued. 'We want people to see that what we're doing here is right.' She ended her sentence with a deep, tremulous breath.

  'Mallory here is very sceptical.' Sophie eyed him slyly. 'He doesn't believe in ley lines or the power in the land. And he especially doesn't believe we can create a boundary that will make us invisible to Fabulous Beasts.'

  'Sophie, dear, not everyone is a forward thinker, even in this newly enlightened age.' She smiled weakly. 'I'm sorry, Mr Mallory, I'm teasing you. If you're hard and fast in your views, I wouldn't dream of trying to change them. But this is the way it was told to me. Millennia ago, the power in the land flowed freely through everything and everyone. We call it the Blue Fire, but it has many other names: chi to the Chinese…' She waved a hand to suggest this wasn't important. 'It healed, but it could also be destructive when used against the enemies of life. It could be shaped and directed by will alone and it could cause effects at a distance.'

  'Magic, in a word,' Mallory said.

  'Very perceptive,' Sophie said, with mild sarcasm.

  'The Blue Fire formed a global network that kept the world… nature… healthy. It was fuelled by spirituality, by the faith of ancient people in tune with the land. They erected the standing stones and established die old sacred places at points where the Blue Fire was the strongest. But as civilisation advanced we lost touch with the energy. It became increasingly dormant, and the land suffered accordingly. There were still people who could use it to achieve things, but it was hard work and the effects were both hit or miss and not particularly great. The Craft, we call it. The great Wiccan tradition.'

  Miller gasped audibly and took a step back. Mallory saw a glimmer of panic in his face. Please don't shout, 'Bum the witch!', Mallory thought.

  Melanie smiled at his reaction. 'Forget the old cliches. We're not all double, double, toil and trouble. This is a religion, if you will. We have our rituals, the same as the Christian Church. We have our ministers and silly little trappings that make us feel happy. And we do good works. But I digress-'