The Devil in Green Read online

  ‘Do you like her?’ He had been so lost in his appraisal that he hadn’t noticed Miller studying him.

  ‘She’s put together OK.’

  Miller chuckled. ‘Is it the hair?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so shallow as to be attracted by the merely physical.’

  ‘You make me laugh, Mallory!’ Miller put his hands behind his head. ‘What I see is long brown hair that you just want to touch, full lips that curl up at the corners, and big, big eyes—’

  ‘Steady on, Miller. They’ll have to hose you down when we get back.’

  The woman stared at Miller, her brow furrowing; she’d obviously caught him watching and talking about her. Miller blushed furiously and looked away. Mallory jabbed a thumb at him, then raised one eyebrow at the woman. She shook her head wearily.

  ‘Mallory!’ Miller protested. ‘She thinks I’m after her now!’

  ‘That’ll teach you to stare.’ Mallory chortled to himself before downing the remainder of his pint in one go.

  ‘You’re such a lad.’ Miller sighed, becoming gloomy as memories surfaced. ‘Did I tell you I was going to get married?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sue and me had been going out since we were at school. I thought we’d always be together. No great beauty … not too smart, either … but that didn’t matter. She really made me laugh. She didn’t mind that I was a brickie’s mate, didn’t nag me to get a better job.’ He was staring at the floor, lost to his thoughts. ‘You know how it is when you’re with someone so close it’s like you’re with yourself?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t have to put on any act,’ Miller continued dismally, ‘you can be the same sad loser you know you are without pretending to be anybody else and they still love you.’

  ‘I said, no.’ Mallory pretended to concentrate on his glass while surreptitiously watching the woman, wishing he were in a position where he could talk to her.

  ‘At least, I thought it was like that,’ Miller continued to himself. ‘But I was just fooling myself, wasn’t I? Maybe if I’d acted like somebody else she’d still be with me … and everything would be all right again.’

  He mumbled something else that sounded as if he thought it was important, but Mallory’s attention was deflected by sudden activity outside the window: a flash of a figure running by in the dark, then another, then several people sprinting. It was a perfectly mundane image, but a tingle of apprehension ran up his spine nonetheless.

  Others had noticed it. An old man in a window seat pressed his face against the glass. Someone else ran out into the street, grabbed hold of a passing teenager who at first struggled to get free before pointing behind him, gabbling animatedly.

  Miller’s chattering in his ear was a distant drone; Mallory was drawn by the scenario unravelling outside.

  As the teenager ran off, the man who had emerged from the pub looked back down the street. A subtle change crept across his face, amused detachment giving way to incomprehension, then a dull, implacable fear.

  ‘I think we need to see this,’ Mallory said quietly.

  As he replaced his glass on the table, other drinkers were already making their way out on to the street. Mallory pushed his way into the centre of the road with Miller trailing behind him. They were instantly transfixed.

  Though it was a dark, moonless night with heavy cloud cover, the sky was filled with light. Flashes of angry fire illuminated the clouds, every now and then bursting through to form pillars of flame that rammed down to the earth. Occasionally, it limned a shape moving with serpentine grace on large batlike wings that beat the air lazily. Mallory thought he glimpsed the shimmer of jewels on its skin, rich sapphires, emeralds and rubies; echoes of another image surfaced from the depths of his subconscious, of fire in the dark. Whatever it was, it was filled with power, but there was something in the way it moved that suggested a terrifying fury: it was hunting.

  But that wasn’t the worst thing. Behind it, along the horizon but sweeping forwards, Mallory could make out something he could only describe as a presence: a thick white mist was unfurling like cloth, billowing at its central point and folding around at the edges so that it had an unnatural substance and life. It moved quickly across the landscape towards the city. Occasionally, the mist would take on aspects of a face - hollow eyes, a roaring mouth - before some other disturbing shape appeared; Mallory saw something that resembled an animal, another that looked like a bird. Gradually, it coalesced into a smoky horned figure towering over the city, insubstantial but filled with primal fears.

  ‘The Devil,’ Miller whispered, terrified, ‘and the Serpent.’

  The air was infused with a palpable sense of dread. Everyone standing on that chill, dark street could only look up at it and remember years of religious imagery, laid on them since childhood, of damnation and torment. Whatever it was, it had come from the outer dark to the city, and its intent appeared apparent. Those of a Christian bent crossed themselves, and some who had not called themselves Christian for a long time did so, too.

  Miller was whimpering quietly, whispering, ‘The Devil … the Devil …’ until it became a mantra of Evil rippling through the crowd.

  Even Mallory, who thought he was numb to most things, felt a crackle of fear as he looked up at the ancient image. He didn’t know what it was, or tried to tell himself he didn’t, but he knew he could feel the presence of a cold, alien intellect, and the threat it brought with it.

  ‘The Devil’s come to town.’ Someone laughed, though without humour.

  It drifted for a moment in the thermals above the cooling city before breaking up as something dark at its core drove forwards with a monstrous purpose. Screams rang throughout Salisbury, one voice lifting up in terror.

  Mallory glanced back in the direction of the cathedral. Miller’s sagging expression showed they both shared the same thought: even if they got back to the gates, there was little chance they’d be able to get inside in time.

  ‘Come with us.’ The voice at Mallory’s shoulder was low, warm and accentless, though insistent. He looked into the face of the woman he’d been admiring, and for the briefest instant he was so dazzled by her large, dark eyes that the threat faded into the background.

  ‘You’ve got a concrete bunker with ten-foot-thick walls?’ he said.

  ‘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 tightly, 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.’