The Devil in Green (65 page)

'See?' Mallory said to Daniels. 'It isn't all bad. There are still plenty of
little luxuries if you look carefully enough.'

They pulled up some old packing crates into a circle and settled down.
Once they began to talk, Miller came alive, the gloom that had descended
on him since the bishop's death gradually evaporating. He hung on every
word the others said, joining in when he could, nodding his support,
smiling so widely Mallory was convinced his face would ache the following
day.

Over the course of three hours, they got through several bottles of wine
while Gardener had made Herculean inroads into one of the casks. In his
merriment, he appeared a different person, his laughter rich and constant,
his eyes disappearing in crinkles every time he showed his humour. He
would sit on his crate and rock backwards until the others were convinced
he would fall off, but he always managed to catch himself with a jolt at the
last moment.

They talked about music - Gardener loved the sixties sounds, Miller
liked Slipknot and Marilyn Manson, Daniels preferred classical - about
football (Daniels professed to know nothing about it), and TV, and radio
(with Gardener wondering aloud what would be happening in
The Archers
right then), about food, and politics. And then, as they would have
expected, they turned, in their cups, to their old lives, and the people
who had meant much but were no longer with them. It wasn't maudlin in
the slightest, just a fond remembrance of happier days, when problems
existed without the stark simplicity of life or death.

Gardener spoke at length about his wife and a touring holiday they'd
had in Scotland when they had finally reconciled themselves to never
having children. 'We were sad, like, but in a way, it was like this big bloody
weight was lifted overnight,' he mused. 'We could get on with life again,
start enjoying things.'

Daniels discussed with unabashed joy the first trip he had made with his
new partner, to the Greek Islands. 'He told me on the second night that he
was giving up his flat so he could move near me, if that was what I wanted,'
he said, with shining eyes. 'Can you believe that? Even at that stage he was
prepared to sacrifice what he had. He
knew ...
we both knew
. . .
instantly.'

Miller ventured a little information about his parents and his childhood
in Swindon, but when he began to talk about the girlfriend who had
abandoned him, he dried up and briefly turned gloomy again. But after a
moment's silence, he piped up, unable to contain his emotion. 'I'm so glad
I found you all,' he said. 'I've never had friends like you. You saved my
life . . .' He looked to Mallory. '. .
.
you've taught me things, you've
cheered me up. You've been like family . . . better than family. This is
what life is all about, you know.' The honest swell of emotion brought
tears to Miller's eyes and he blinked them away unselfconsciously. 'If it all
goes bad from here, it's been worthwhile.'

'Don't talk so pissed-up,' Gardener chided gently, though it was
obvious he was touched by Miller's comments.

Mallory was about to join in the teasing of Miller when a movement
caught his eye deep in the heart of the shadows at the back of the cellar. He
held up a warning hand and the others grew instantly alert. 'Who's there?'
he called out.

His voice bounced off the arched ceiling and rustled around the casks.
Nothing moved. Slowly, he stood up and drew his sword. The others
followed suit, turning to face the back of the room.

As they stood alert, Miller suddenly shuddered. He looked around at the
others with wide eyes. 'Did you feel that?
Cold ...
as if someone rubbed
against me
.
. .'

The hairs on the back of Mallory's neck stood erect; iron filings filled his
mouth and the back of his throat. He
could
feel something
...
an invisible
presence
.
. . moving around them.

'It's over there,' Daniels whispered, pointing to another part of the
cellar.

'No, there.' Gardener nodded to the opposite side of the room.

'It's all over,' Mallory said.

Now they could see he was right: there was movement on every side just
beyond the edge of the shadows. It seemed to Mallory that whatever was
there wasn't quite in the world but rather a step removed, as if it were
behind a veil trying to find a way through.

'Stand firm,' Gardener said, all trace of drunkenness gone from him.

'It's the ghosts,' Miller said in a hollow voice.

And once he said it, Mallory could see. The shadowy forms had the
shape of men in long robes. They moved lethargically, roaming back
and forth around the cellar's edge, seemingly oblivious to the knights.
Pinpricks of green, the lamps of eyes, glowed with increasing force. They
were coming closer.

'Bloody hell, let's get out of here,' Gardener hissed. They dropped
their bottles and cups and ran up the steps, slamming the door behind
them.

They stumbled out into the biting cold of the night, where they rested
against the stone walls, taking deep, calming breaths.

'Bloody hell, that was spooky,' Gardener said.

'Did you feel it?' Daniels adjusted his eye-patch. 'They were coming for
us. They wanted to
—
'

'Punish us,' Mallory completed. They all understood it on some level
they couldn't explain.

Miller looked from one to the other, his eyes wide and white in the dark.
'I thought the demons couldn't get in here.'

Despite himself, Mallory gave Miller a reassuring pat on the back.
'Those things out there can't. These were different.'

'How?' Miller said desperately.

A brief flurry of snow stung Mallory's face; the weather was taking a
turn for the worse. 'The things in there were wearing—'

'Habits and clerics' robes,' Daniels interrupted. 'They're our own.'

Miller looked even more shocked at this. 'But
—
'

'Who knows what the hell's going on around here?' Mallory said.

They shivered in silence until the wind died enough for them to hear the
clamour of fighting just beyond the walls. The nightly attack was beginning to wind down.

'Let's take a look,' Mallory said.

As they neared the walls, they were surprised to see frantic activity. The
guards were desperately setting up sheet metal, hammering in nails to hold
it in place.

'What's going on?' Daniels called out.

One of the guards turned, anxiety gnawing at his features. 'Repairs. The
wall started to buckle here.' They all knew why he looked so worried: that
had never happened before.

'Either they're getting stronger or we're getting weaker,' Mallory said.

The guard turned back to his work, his voice echoing back to them.
'They nearly broke it down,' he said. 'They nearly got in here.'