The Devil in Green (28 page)

They passed St Thomas's Church, the Guildhall and the market, all
still and dark, and made their way up Castle Street towards the ring road.
The frost made the streets glitter, as unreal as a movie set. Without the
streetlights, and the parked cars, and the stale exhaust fumes drifting in the
air, everything seemed fake.

Beyond the city limits, they rode slowly in tight formation, all eyes
watching the surrounding countryside, which was peppered here and
there with the silent grassy mounds that marked the spiritual life of the
ancients. The ordered fields had started to break down, becoming overgrown, with self-set trees sprouting here and there. The hedges were wild,
the birds and animals abundant in the pesticide-free environment. Yet
they all sensed there was more going on than they could see. Miller told
them of his trials during his journey to the cathedral, of the monkey-
creatures and the other things he had glimpsed at a distance. They listened
attentively, without comment.

'What have you heard is out here?' Miller asked in the lull that followed
his tale.

'The Wild Hunt rides at night, collecting souls.' Gardener spoke with
utmost confidence. 'A black dog that's more than a dog.'

'Ghosts.' Daniels picked up his line. 'Spirits . . . water spirits . . . tree
spirits.' He appeared a little embarrassed at saying these things, yet plainly
believed in them.

'If this is the End Times, why has it been so quiet since the attack?'
Miller said. 'Maybe that was just a one-off. Maybe everyone's wrong .
. .
getting worked up for no reason.' The note of hope in his voice was almost
childlike.

'It was a calling card,' Gardener said adamantiy, 'just to let us know
what's coming up. This is the lull before the storm. Things will be going to
hell in a handcart soon enough.'

'Here we are!' Hipgrave's voice caught them unawares. He'd reined in his
horse to point to grey shapes on a rise, almost lost against the background
clouds and the rain.

'Stonehenge,' Miller said redundantly.

Hipgrave trotted back to them. 'We treat this area with extreme caution.
No one goes into the circle - I have strict instructions from Blaine.'

'I thought our instructions were to bring back the vicar,' Mallory said.
'You're saying you've got a whole load of other secret instructions?'

'They're not secret, they're operational.' Hipgrave nudged his horse
towards the stone circle. 'You don't need to know.'

They progressed cautiously, all of them feeling a tingle of excitement
when the menhirs came fully into view.

'There's real power here,' Daniels said. 'Can you feel it?'

'What are you thinking, Mallory?' Miller asked, when he saw the
faraway look on his friend's face.

Mallory shifted as if he'd been caught out. 'I was thinking that it's
returning to the days when Constable and Turner loved the place for its
loneliness, and the special quality of the light and the atmosphere.'

'I didn't know you were artistic,' Miller said, surprised.

'That's because you don't know anything.' Mallory spurred his horse
away. He'd been struck by a strange notion: one of the outstanding
mysteries of Stonehenge was why the builders had brought a special kind
of bluestone all the way from mountains in south-west Wales. Three
thousand years ago, it was a tremendous, seemingly unnecessary exercise,
especially when there were more suitable stones close to hand. But after
what Sophie had told him of the Blue Fire, he wondered if the bluestones
had some special generating quality for the earth energy. He'd been quite
dismissive during the conversation in the travellers' camp, but the concept
of the invigorating lifeblood energy appealed to him.

They moved on to the English Heritage visitor centre, which was
completely burned out. Scorch marks were evident all around the area,
even in the tunnel that ran under the road. Hipgrave made them skirt the
circle widely as if it were a sleeping beast, yet Mallory regularly caught him
apprehensively scanning the clouds.

'Split up. Look around the site as fast as you can for any sign. We need
to be out of here quick,' he said.

They segmented the grassy field around the henge and each concentrated on one sector. After fifteen minutes of futile searching, Mallory's
attention was caught by lightning on the horizon. A storm was approaching. Over in the next sector, Hipgrave stiffened and fixed his attention
where the lightning had struck.

Maybe we can find a tree for him to shelter under
, Mallory thought.

Three minutes later, the lightning struck again, though this time
Mallory was aware it wasn't the brilliant white of any lightning he'd seen
before; there was a ruddiness to it, perhaps even a hint of gold.

Mallory watched it curiously, waiting for the repeat, until Hipgrave
thundered up beside him. The leader's face was taut. 'We need to get out
of here. Now.'

'What's wrong?'

'What's wrong is we're trespassing!' Hipgrave spurred his horse to warn
the others.

Mallory had no idea what he meant, but followed him nonetheless.
Hipgrave had just spoken to Gardener when Miller called out on the
north-western side of the henge.

'Look here,' he said when they galloped over. He pointed to a discarded
bag and very obvious tracks leading away into the heart of the Plain. The
bag was leather, embossed with the gold initials
E. G.

'Eric Gregory,' Miller said. 'That's the name Blaine told us.'

It was exactly what they'd hoped to find, yet Hipgrave barely gave
Miller's discovery any attention. His neck craned in the direction of the
lightning.

'Come on!' he said. 'Move!'

Mallory followed his gaze to see a black shape just breaking the cloud
cover; at that distance it resembled a fly.

Miller watched it dumbfounded until Hipgrave cuffed him on the side
of his head. 'Come on!' He set off in the direction of the tracks, quickly
spurring his horse into a gallop, not waiting for anyone.

Miller stared at the bag in his hands, not really comprehending what was
happening, until Gardener grabbed his collar and hauled him into his
saddle.

'Look!' Daniels said in awe.

Another burst of energy.
Definitely not lightning
, Mallory thought again.
He knew exactly what they were seeing, recalling the travellers' explanation as to why Melanie had been visiting Stonehenge when she was
injured. The column of flame hit the ground and erupted, just as he had
seen it do that first time in Salisbury. The Fabulous Beast approached on
slow, heavy wing-strokes, its serpentine neck rising and falling with each
beat.

For a brief moment, they were all transfixed. The creature carried
mystery and wonder on its back; the very sight of it reached deep into the
unconscious depths of their minds.

Another yell from Hipgrave finally stirred them and they spurred
their horses into life, heading down the slope from Stonehenge into the
heart of Salisbury Plain. Mallory estimated that the Beast was twenty
miles away at least, but drawing closer rapidly. Occasionally, he could
hear the sound of its wings, the jet-engine roar of its flame bursts, each
explosion followed by a shower of soil and rock and wood. Now they all
knew why the Stonehenge visitor centre was burned out, and, as their
wonder faded, what would happen to them if that searing breath came
too close.