The Devil in Green (17 page)

'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.