As they bowed their heads, Daniels finally did look over. Mallory was surprised by what he saw in his face: it looked very much like fear.
The ceremony anointing Stefan had been stripped of pomp and ceremony under the circumstances and took less than an hour. Afterwards, Mallory and Gardener went to inspect the digging. Piles of soil lay all around, but the diggers had now hit the expected obstacle of the gravel that provided the solid foundation for the cathedral.
'They need to make it deep and wide enough to bring provisions in,' Gardener mused.
'And when they could have made it just wide enough for one man,' Mallory said.
Gardener eyed him suspiciously. 'You're not thinking of running out on us, are you?'
'With the way things have been going here, I can honestly say I'd rather be anywhere — even London.'
'You're just a soft Southern shit, Mallory,' Gardener deadpanned. 'The first bit of bloody hardship and you fall apart.'
'Well, I wasn't brought up wearing a horsehair shirt in a leaky hovel, you Northern bastard.'
Gardener fixed himself a roll-up.
'Where do you get that supply of tobacco from, anyway?' Mallory asked.
'Don't ask me that, and I won't ask you what you did before you got here.'
Mallory winced; was it that obvious? 'What do you think of the new boss, then?'
'Good choice, I reckon.'
'Yeah? Can't see it myself.'
'He's a tough bloke. That's what we need right now: somebody who can take control.'
'That's what they said in the Weimar Republic.'
Gardener inhaled the smoke deeply. 'Sometimes, Mallory, I think you're from another bloody planet.'
November advanced relentlessly. The nights were always bitter, the days harsher than anyone remembered from previous years. Winter threatened a furious assault.
Stefan quickly but cautiously exerted his control over the rule of the cathedral, though he did it with a smiling, always moderate face. The Inquisition was brought into the structure of authority alongside the knights, 'to root out seditious elements amongst the brothers' so Stefan said, although Mallory saw no sign of treason; most were too broken for that. Yet Stefan made no overt move to change the day-to-day governance of life in the cathedral. Instead, he preferred to make daily pronouncements filled with platitudes about how spirits were high, how the brethren had grown even more devout, how the Lord was with them in the face of adversity.
The hangover from Cornelius's death was strong, affecting the mood deeply so that everyone expected something worse to come. The supplies were also diminishing rapidly, the dishes becoming more imaginative to utilise the sparse range of vegetables remaining in the stores. They'd even started slaughtering the milk-producing cows; the sheep, pigs and chickens were already gone.
The detailed questioning of everyone in the cathedral regarding Cornelius's murder had continued unabated without any noticeable advances. There had been no further outbreaks of violence, but that did little to make anyone feel more secure.
Mallory, Miller, Daniels and Gardener had been kept under such a strict timetable that they had not found any opportunities to search for the killer anywhere beyond the very edges of the shadowy shifting zone. 'We've got to find some way to get in there — it's our responsibility,' Miller urged at every opportunity, until he was shouted down by the other three every time the first few words came from his lips. Eventually, Mallory, as their unelected leader, was convinced that he should talk to Hipgrave, who, though plainly unstable, had the same object in mind and could manipulate the work rotas. Mallory silently resolved to put it off until the last moment.
The tunnel progressed slowly, through several collapses, much to the annoyance of everyone who saw the short distance that had to be traversed; there were simply no engineers in the cathedral, and in such a precarious environment best guesses didn't work. The dismal mood was made worse by the sounds of music and gaiety that floated over the wall from the travellers' camp beyond.
And every night the hordes of hell attacked with a vigour that had not been evident at the onset, as if they sensed that their moment was coming. Their tactics had changed too: instead of a frontal assault, they would sometimes storm St Ann Gate in the east, or Harnham Gate in the south. Occasionally, they would disrupt the metal sheeting or bring cracks to stone that had stood firm for centuries, prompting frenzied repairs. For so long the brethren had felt secure in their fortress. Now fear was rising that it was only a matter of time before the beasts broke through.
*
Blaine summoned the knights on the morning of November the thirteenth. It was a bright day, the first warm one for weeks, and that helped raise spirits a little.
Since Stefan's coronation, the knights' commander had rarely been seen, locking himself away with Hipgrave and Roeser to discuss strategy before debating it with Stefan and Broderick, whose role as leader of the Inquisition had earned him a place at the new bishop's right hand. That morning, Blaine had the bright-eyed look of someone finally ready for vengeance. He strode to the front of the great hall with purpose and a spring in his step. Hipgrave and Roeser took up positions behind him and to either side.
'I'm sure all this waiting around getting beaten on has annoyed you as much as it has me.' He had a gleam in his eye and a faint, cruel smile on his lips. 'Well, you'll be pleased to know that period is now officially over. We're not scared, we're not weak. We're men… men of God… and now we're going to show that we can't be forced to cower, or hide. That we're not going to be overrun. It's time for us to stand up proudly and prove who we are.' He ground his teeth together so hard everyone on the front row heard it. 'Now we strike back.'
Hipgrave and Roeser disappeared to the back of the hall and returned with a long, low crate. They levered off the lid with a dagger, delved into the straw packing and removed two rifles, both of which looked like Second World War issue. Hipgrave handed one to Blaine who checked the loading mechanism and sighting.
'In the basement of the former regimental headquarters of the Royal Gloucestershire, Berkshire and Wiltshire Regiment, now part of the cathedral compound, there is a store of weapons and a limited supply of ammunition,' he said, still admiring the sighting. 'They're not exactly top of the range, but they still pack a pretty big punch.'
'Bastard didn't dish those out when we were riding into the danger zone,' Mallory hissed to Daniels.
'He was saving them for people who mattered,' Daniels replied wryly.
Blaine tossed the rifle back to Hipgrave who deposited it back in the box. 'For too long those devils have attacked us freely. They think we haven't got any teeth. Tonight we're going to show them that we have. Tonight we're going to make them scared of us, by hitting one of the most important, powerful demons out there. Prepare yourself for a tremendous victory. We gather on the rooftop at nineteen hundred hours precisely tomorrow night.'
As he left the great hall, a ripple of impromptu applause ran through the knights. Even Mallory, who had no respect for the authority or badge, felt a wave of excitement at the thought of finally doing something after weeks of inactivity.
In the end, it was Hipgrave who made the first move. Mallory was finishing a small bowl of thin carrot soup after a hard morning of physical training and overseeing repairs to the walls when the captain crossed the refectory purposefully.
'Mallory,' Hipgrave said with a curt nod, knowing they were being watched. But when he sat down he leaned across the table conspiratorially. 'There's something I want you to see.'
'I'm surprised you've found the time to come here. Blaine seems to be relying on you more and more.'
Hipgrave gave a self-satisfied smile. 'It often takes a crisis for someone's true worth to be recognised. But if anything, it's only made me more aware of my responsibilities. We have to flush that devil out before it strikes again, Mallory. And it will, make no mistake, because that's its nature.' He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Mallory could see the instability clearly upon hi
m, in the long, odd pauses in his speech or the exaggerated gestures he often made to underline a point. It wouldn't take much for him to crack. 'I have to be honest here, Mallory, you wouldn't have been my first choice to stand at my shoulder on this. You've not got the military mind. You're subversive and untrustworthy.'
'Thanks,' Mallory said, draining the last of his soup.
Hipgrave dropped a hand firmly on Mallory's wrist. 'This is no joke, Mallory. We have been gifted with a tremendous responsibility. I spent a long time wrestling with why I was made to suffer by seeing the changes that happened in this place when everyone else was blind to it. Why I was made to be an outsider.' Mallory realised this was the worst thing that could have happened to Hipgrave. 'And then I realised it was because I had been chosen by the Lord, for a mission.'
'Or it could have been a coincidence.'
'In your world, Mallory. In my world, a world ruled by God, there are no coincidences. Everything that happens is through His Will. He chose me to be His instrument in ridding this holy place of Evil. And I choose you to help me. I have to choose you, because you have the God-given eyes to see clearly too. I don't profess to know the Lord's mind in this, and I cannot begin to understand what He sees in you, Mallory. But you fit into His plan somewhere, and I have to go along with that.'
'Well, glad I'm not a fifth wheel.'
'Now, come with me.' Hipgrave walked a few paces ahead of Mallory as if he were leading him out for some menial task. Once they were away from the eyes of the brethren, he relaxed a little. 'I've been doing some exploring myself. These new buildings are very strange indeed. They change their layout, you know. Not in any obvious way — I mean, if we want to get to the great hall we get there. It's just that sometimes the route is different. Three long corridors one day, two corridors and a set of stairs the next. I've been keeping detailed notes. But that's not the only thing.'
He led Mallory into a small chapel on the periphery of the new section. There was a plain altar and cross at one end, and three rows of wooden chairs. At the back stood a small desk covered with masses of candles; most of them had burned right down, their wax set in a great white flood across the desk and on to the floor, like the lava flow of a volcano.
Hipgrave headed over to the wood-panelled wall behind the altar and began to work his way along it, tapping. When he found what he was looking for he turned to Mallory, smiling triumphantly, and said, 'Watch this.' He pressed the panel forcefully in the top two corners and it slid back silently. Mallory felt a rush of cold, dank air. 'A secret passage,' Hipgrave said redundantly.
He went to the back of the room, selected a candle with a little life and lit it with his flint.
'Are you sure this is a good idea?' If the main corridors changed their route continually, Mallory didn't feel comfortable going into a secret network that might be even more unpredictable.
'No need to worry,' Hipgrave replied breezily, 'I've already investigated it. There are plenty of exit points along the way.' He motioned for Mallory to follow him, then stepped into the dark, shielding the candle with his hand. Mallory considered leaving Hipgrave in there before accepting it would get him nowhere. Reluctantly, he followed.
The tunnel was just wide enough to walk along without brushing shoulders against the walls. After ten feet, a small flight of steps led down, and from then on it twisted and turned so much that Mallory had soon lost all sense of direction. It was damp with whistling, cold air currents suggesting large spaces somewhere ahead.
They'd been following it for ten minutes when another downward flight of stairs took them into a low-ceilinged room where expanses of something glowed white in the flickering candlelight. Hipgrave recoiled when he saw what was there.
Bones were heaped on all sides. The black eyeholes of skulls glared out from a confusion of skeletal remains so jumbled up that it was impossible to tell where one body ended and another began, or even if the skeletons were whole. The ghoulish display was oppressive.
'This wasn't here before,' Hipgrave said.
'An ossuary.' Mallory had been there before, briefly, on his first exploration of the new buildings. 'They were popular in medieval times, particularly at monasteries… somewhere to store the remains of the people who had lived there. There's a famous one in the catacombs under Paris.'
Hipgrave surveyed the immense size of the bone-heap stretching way beyond where the candlelight could reach. 'There must have been a lot of people living here.'
'Or it's been around for a very long time.'
As they moved through it, Mallory was disturbed to see at the back of the piles some bones that didn't look human — too long, too twisted, a skull that appeared to have horns growing out of it. Just a trick of the shifting shadows, he told himself.
Hipgrave had been unnerved by the ossuary, too, for he remained silent for the next twenty minutes until Mallory was forced to ask him exactly where they were going.
'It's not the same route I followed before…'
Mallory's heart sank at the indecision in Hipgrave's voice; they were lost. 'We should turn back-'
'No, no, we'll get there eventually.'
Mallory was about to argue when Hipgrave let out a jubilant cry. He hurried forwards and knelt down. As Mallory came up behind him, he saw what had caught Hipgrave's eye: a thin blue line of what looked like an electrical discharge crackling along the floor, up the walls and across the ceiling. It was so faint as to be indiscernible unless you were actually upon it.
'What is that?' Mallory asked. He was surprised to feel a faint buzzing in his sword where it hung against his leg, as if it were responding to the energy.
'I don't know. But it's been in a few of the tunnels I've wandered down.'
Mallory cautiously reached out across the blue line. A faint tingling buzzed in his fingers as they passed over it. The air on the other side felt different, almost silky. Instinctively, Mallory knew. 'It's a boundary.' Between this world and the Otherworld, he thought. His earlier suspicions had been true: for some reason, the cathedral compound had become a crossing-over point, where the world and Otherworld merged, and at the point of confluence there was chaos and unpredictability.
'That's what I thought,' Hipgrave said, 'and on the other side is where that Devil lives.' He peered into the dark as if he could pierce it by effort alone. 'The Devil has defined his territory of Evil. Who knows? Crossing over this line might warn him in some way.'
'Then I've already triggered it,' Mallory said. 'We should get back.'
'We'll return,' Hipgrave continued dreamily, as if talking to himself, 'the five of us, and we'll hunt it down. We'll kill it dead.'
They were just turning to depart when the noise of metallic clinking against stone echoed in the depths of the tunnel. As it approached them, the clinking became a consistent scraping. An image of a billhook being dragged along the wall sprang unbidden into Mallory's mind.
'Let's get out of here,' Mallory hissed. His anxiety increased a notch when he saw that Hipgrave's eyes had become wide and distant.
'No, this is our chance,' Hipgrave said quietiy. He drew his sword and turned to face the crackling line of Blue Fire.
'You saw what it did to Cornelius,' Mallory warned. 'The two of us might not be up to it. Besides, this isn't the place to make a stand — there's not enough space to manoeuvre.'
Hipgrave didn't appear to hear him. He stepped forwards until the toe of his boot brushed the tiny sapphire sparks. A worrying thought leaped into Mallory's mind.
'Don't cross the line!' he said. 'It's not sacred ground on the other side. We won't be protected.'
'We have to stop the Devil,' Hipgrave whispered.
Whoever was ahead of them was moving down the tunnel, the scrape of metal now accompanied by a heavy tread and hard breathing. Mallory thought he could occasionally glimpse golden sparks where the metallic object hit the wall.
'Come on, Hipgrave,' he said as supportively as he could muster. 'A good general knows when to retreat.' He gra
bbed Hipgrave's arm and attempted to tug him back. Hipgrave resisted with the slow, measured strength of a sleepwalker. He held his sword out threateningly.
'WHO GOES THERE?' The voice boomed out with the sound and fury of a tolling bell. Mallory covered his ears and recoiled. Hipgrave blanched.
'I'm not scared,' he said.
The growing noises suggested that the approaching figure should now be in sight, but Mallory could see nothing in the thick shadows.
'Hipgrave,' Mallory pressed.
Hipgrave's sword-arm wilted a little; he looked as if he was starting to comprehend Mallory's warnings. But then the haze crossed his eyes again and he took one step over the blue line. Mallory lunged for him and missed.
'I'm ready for you, Devil!' Hipgrave said, brandishing his sword.
A hand as big as a dinner plate shot from the shadows and clamped around Hipgrave's wrist. He yelled in fright; Mallory started. It had a studded leather band at its wrist and tattered brown cloth wrapped around fingers and palm in a makeshift glove. But what shocked Mallory the most was that where the forearm disappeared into the dark there was no sense of a body attached; it was as if the interloper only took on substance when it was in the light.
Hipgrave howled as the steely fingers dug into his flesh. Mallory threw his arms around Hipgrave's waist and attempted to drag him backwards over the line. The hand held fast, and effortlessly; in fact, Mallory felt himself being pulled forwards. It was too strong. Freeing one hand, he whipped out his sword and prodded into the dark. There was a fizz of blue and a tremendous howl that made his ears ring. Suddenly he was flying on to his back, with Hipgrave crashing on top of him.
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