The Devil in Green (41 page)

Sophie
stayed with
Mallory at
the
head,
undisputed leaders
of
the
expedition. Though they
couldn't
be
described as
friendly,
the travellers
were less suspicious of Mallory because Sophie had accepted
him.
They
trailed behind, taking it in turns to pull Miller's stretcher. Eventually night
fell,
but
there
was enough of a break in the clouds to allow
moonlight
to
illuminate their
way.

'I
still
can't
believe
how
much the world's changed.' Sophie snuggled
deep
in the cloak for
warmth. 'Yet
there's been so much
good
with all the
bad. Take the Craft
-
it was strong before, but
nothing like now.'

Mallory rarely took his eyes off the landscape as he continually tried to
discern which shadows were benign and which posed a threat. He had
already seen silhouettes circling them, low and bestial, but so far they had
chosen
to
keep their distance. 'We've gone back to a time before science and reason and technology,
when people relied on the power within them,' Sophie continued. 'What
we have is so important, Mallory, yet we'd all lost sight of it. The Fall, for
all the suffering, has let us forge a link with the people we used to be, and
should be.'

'Try telling that to someone whose family has just been wiped out by an
illness that shouldn't exist in this day and age.'

'I know, it's easy for me to say. But I'm just trying to see the big picture.'

He laughed, then caught himself.

'What's so funny?'

'I wonder how my
friends
back at the cathedral would take my consorting with a witch.'

She snorted derisively. 'It's about time we got rid of all those stereotypes
your lot foisted on us. We were the original religion—'

'You're not going to lay claim to that, are you? Murray and Gardener
had an academic approach, but they made huge leaps of logic when they
claimed there was a heritage for Wicca stretching back to prehistory.'

'There might not be an unbroken line, although that's debatable. But
there's still a basis of ancient traditions.' She looked at him askance, a little
surprised. 'You're very well informed, Mallory. Did you have Burn The
Witch classes at the cathedral?'

'I'm just well read, one of my very many strengths.' Away to his right,
something was keeping pace with them, staying low. He only caught sight
of it when the ground rose slightly and it was briefly silhouetted against a
moon-silvered cloud.

'One good thing about the Fall is that Wicca is in the ascendancy once
again after centuries of repression.'

'Don't get all whiny about it,' he said. 'You're in good company with all
the beliefs Christianity has repressed over the last couple of millennia.
Everything from tribal faiths in Africa to Taoism in the Far East.'

'What's up with you, Mallory?' Incomprehension filled her voice.
'You're not a Christian - you don't believe in anything, or so you said.
So how can you do all this . . . fighting for something you don't believe
in?'

'I told you - it's a job. It pays. It keeps me alive.'

'You're a mercenary.'

'Well, if you want to get into name-calling .
. .
witch.'

She couldn't contain a smile at his ridiculous humour and had to look
away. 'Don't you take anything seriously?'

'Yes, sex and alcohol.'

'I bet you're a bundle of laughs in bed.'

'It's not supposed to be funny. With me it's a spiritual experience. You
should try it some time.'

'I'd rather cut off an arm,' she said, though he thought he saw the first
glimmer that she might mean the opposite.

'Anyway, where's your broomstick?'

'I have one, but I don't use it how you think. And you'd better get any
stereotypes out of your head quickly,' she said. 'No hooknosed crones
carrying out nasty business over bubbling pots. We were the original
wise women, offering advice and help to anyone in the tribes or villages.
And we did good deeds, generally, because we all know that whatever
we do is brought back to us threefold. It's all about balance, Mallory . . .
a universal constant you can see just by opening your eyes and looking
around. But not something your Christian colleagues would ever understand with their horsehair shirts and ascetic, sexually repressed lifestyles.'

'Now who's dealing in stereotypes?'

Her rant was well rehearsed, and even though Mallory knew her
arguments, he let her continue while he tried to keep track of whatever
was stalking them.

'And we're not Satanists. Does
that
make me mad when I hear it. There
is no Satan in the pagan religions - that's a Christian invention. No
personification of pure evil. We look to nature for our guidance, where evil
doesn't exist, just a dark side and a light side to everything. Our deity has
two aspects: the horned male and the triple goddess of mother, maiden
and crone. Christianity demonised the male one, turned him into Satan
with the horns and the tail and the cloven hooves, but he's really a god of
nature, embodying aspects of the flora and fauna—'

'Sorry to interrupt your history lesson, Sophie, as interesting as it is, but
we're about to be attacked.' It seemed that his sword whispered as it slid
out of the sheath; an aural trick, nothing else.

Before Sophie could say anything more, the shape loomed towards
them. At first, it appeared to be on its knees, then loping like a wolf and
finally upright. Mallory had the unnerving feeling it was floating an inch or
so above the ground, its legs motionless.

One of the travellers had made the mistake of drifting off to one side. He
was in his forties, but prematurely aged through drink and too many
drugs, his hair thin on top but long and wiry down the back. He saw it first
and let out a shriek that made Mallory's blood run cold. The traveller was
rooted for a second, then half-turned to run, but it was too late.

Coming up fast on him was a thing with the body of a man, but a head
that was just a white skull with an angry red light seeping out of its hollow
orbs. Its clothes were black, tattered in part as if it had been wrapped in a
shroud, but gleaming black armour lay beneath.

The creature shimmered as it bore down on the traveller, appearing to
change shape slightly so that its limbs elongated, the hands stretching into
bony talons. It swung one and took the traveller's head off at the neck.