Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

As they approached the chapter house, Daniels coughed self-consciously. 'Sorry. I just wanted to hear my voice.' He laughed in embarrassment. 'Look at me — an educated, sophisticated, just all-round modern guy and I'm afraid of ghosts.'

'We never really leave behind the children we were,' Mallory replied. His own hand rested on the carved dragons of his sword. 'Besides, these days it's probably smart to be scared.'

'Stops you being blase,' Daniels agreed. His eyes darted around. 'You know what I miss? Clubs. Music… new stuff, you know… and lights. I used to love clubs, went two or three times a week with Gareth.'

'Yeah, I miss music,' Mallory said, 'and the football, movies, nipping out for a curry after the pub…'He thought for a second. 'Getting a train, buying a newspaper on a rainy morning, maybe picking up a Mars Bar with it-'

'I hate Mars. Like eating sugar and glue.'

'Buying a new book from your favourite author…'

'You could go on for ever.'

'It's the stupid little things that get to you the most.' Mallory took a deep breath. 'And what do we get in return-?'

'We get a life that's never boring.'

The new structure began beyond the cloisters, the stone darker, more worn, as if thousands of feet and hands had trailed over it across thousands of years. Mallory still didn't like walking around the place. The constantly changing layout of corridors and stairs and rooms unnerved him — he couldn't get a handle on the floor plan at all — and there was an unsettling atmosphere that hung in the air like a bad smell.

They passed into a corridor that ran amongst a series of dormitories where the echoes were disturbingly distorted. Halfway along, Daniels caught Mallory's arm and hissed, 'What was that?'

'Didn't hear anything,' Mallory replied. His footsteps were still reverberating several seconds after he'd come to a halt.

Daniels' eyes had widened until the whites appeared to glow. 'It sounded like someone calling my name.'

'You're a big nancy-boy coward, Daniels,' Mallory joked. 'You're scaring yourself.'

'No, it was definitely-'

He was cut short by a rustling sepulchral whispering that swept along the corridor like a breeze. Goosebumps sprang up on Mallory's arms. He could have sworn it was calling his name.

'It's just Gardener playing tricks on you,' Mallory said. It sounded feeble and unconvincing the moment he voiced it.

'It was my name,' Daniels stressed, looking up and down the deserted corridor. It unnerved Mallory even more that they had both heard something different. 'We should investigate.'

'Yeah, right,' Mallory said. 'Like I'm going to be a character in Scream Ten.'

'It's our job,' Daniels said. 'We're supposed to be protecting everyone.'

'OK. Off you go, then. I'll wait for the scream of agony. And when it comes I'll break with tradition and not come after you to find the bloody chunks. Go on. I'll be here, enjoying myself.'

'You're a bastard, Mallory,' Daniels said nervously. His sword rang as it slid out of the scabbard. He began to make his way back down the corridor.

'You're really going?' Mallory said, surprised.

'It's our job, Mallory.' He disappeared into one of the rooms.

Mallory waited for ten minutes until he started to grow bored and then sighed and marched off to investigate. Except the doorway through which Daniels had passed now led into an alcove barely big enough for him to squeeze inside.

'Daniels?' he said tentatively. An unconscious shiver ran down his spine and he quickly backed into the centre of the corridor. The silence was almost unbearable; he could feel his chest tightening as anxiety insinuated its way inside him. Although he felt stupid doing it, he drew his own sword; the hum as it came free was almost comforting.

He had found through irritating experience that retracing one's steps rarely worked, so he pressed on along the corridor. As he neared the end of it, a cold blast of air brought him to a sudden halt; it was as if someone had opened a long-closed door. A second later, the whispering rustled along the walls again; it sounded like frozen lakes, like the tomb. And he was convinced it was calling his name.

He debated going back, but he couldn't be sure that whatever was there wasn't behind him. Oddly, his growing apprehension steeled his resolve.

At the end of the corridor, a short flight of worn steps led up to a deserted chapel. They were the night stairs, a regular fixture in monasteries allowing the monks to make their way speedily from the dormitories to the services so no time was lost for devotion.

He had his foot on the bottom step when a shape loomed up at the top. At first he thought it might be Daniels until he recalled the knight hadn't been wearing his cloak. The figure wore the black habit of a monk, the cowl pulled low over a shadowy space that hid the face. With a sudden wash of cold, he realised it was the same person he had seen twice before; except it wasn't a person. On the previous occasions, he had tried to convince himself it was one of the brothers; now he couldn't hide in that illusion. It took a step towards him; the whispering wrapped around it.

Mallory felt an overpowering dread coming off the figure that left him rooted, his limbs as cold as ice, his neck and back hot; it was his mind's natural revulsion to the supernatural. It was no ghost, he was sure of it, but he had no idea exactly what it was, only that it reeked of otherworldly threat. Yet how something like that could walk the hallowed ground escaped him.

He backed down to the corridor and levelled his sword at it. His action didn't deter its measured progress down the steps. His name echoed around him, the word insubstantial, the sentiment cold and hard and unyielding. It said, Here is something that wants you, that will stop at nothing to get you.

He considered striking out at it, but if the blow was futile it would leave him too close; it would be able to touch him and the thought of that was more than he could bear. As it closed on him, his dread increased until he could no longer look at the darkness where the face should be. It was more than simple fear of the unknown; a part of him somehow knew that here was a revelation too awful for him to accept; here were all the things he was frantically escaping.

And then he was running back down the corridor, through rooms unimaginable, waiting for the building to let him out into the night.

Mallory eventually found Daniels waiting outside the chapter house an hour later. The lauds of the dead was filtering through from the cathedral.

'Well, thank heavens for that,' Daniels said tartly. 'I thought I was going to have to send in a search party. Did you enjoy your rest period?'

'I tried to find you. I couldn't get out of the place.' It had taken Mallory a long time to shake off the effects of what he had seen, and he certainly didn't feel like raising it again with Daniels.

'This place gives me the creeps.' Daniels looked uncomfortably towards where the transformed building began. 'It felt as though it was herding me out of there. I'd be a happy man if I didn't have to go in again.'

Mallory followed his gaze. 'I'll second that. But I bet you any money that if we want to find out what's happening here, that's exactly where we'll have to go.'

The announcement was made the following day: digging would commence on November die first after plans had been drawn up and preliminary excavations opened. The haste to begin underlined the seriousness of their predicament. An uproarious outpouring of relief and optimism followed. The brothers flooded out of the cathedral into a light drizzle, eager to believe that the worst was over and they could get back to their primary mission of rebuilding God's kingdom.

By nine am the rain had become a downpour, the skies so slate-grey overhead that in the oppressive shadow of the new buildings it almost seemed like night. Water cascaded from the mouths of gargoyles to gush noisily on the stone flags, or spouted off the ends of roofs to catch unawares any brother foolish enough to walk too close to the walls.