Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

'Hello, Mallory.'

Her voice sounded like the chime of a crystal glass, filling him with such a swell of emotion that he felt as if he was rising off the ground.

'Everything is so heightened here,' he said.

'You'll get used to it.'

Sophie leaned nonchalantly against an oak tree, her arms folded. He thought how beautiful she looked there, not just in the superficial qualities of her features, but in the complexity of intelligence he saw in her dark eyes; there were depths he could never plumb. Emotions rose in him mysteriously, the truth freed from the chains of conditioning and fear. In that potent place, the pure part of him that he kept tucked away recognised connections not made on any physical plane, bonds that transcended consciousness.

'You look amazing,' he said.

She laughed gently. 'You are so going to regret saying that when you're out of this place.'

The moon broke through the branches to highlight her, centre stage. 'Why are we here?' he asked.

Once more dark and troubled, she looked away through the trees, out across the rolling moor. 'I wanted to see you.'

Her mood triggered his memory of the incident in the camp with Gardener, and all the blood. 'I'm sorry for what happened,' he said. 'I felt bad about that. If I could have found any way to put it right…'

'I can see that now. Here, in this place, things are much clearer. That's why I came.'

Puzzled, he looked around as if he were seeing the glade for the first time. 'This place-'

'Here we strip away the barriers we put up against the world.' She smiled again. 'Well, you do. I'm used to it.'

Perspective began creeping up on him. 'Am I dreaming?'

'If you want to look at it with a limited perception, sure.'

'You're as infuriating in my dreams as you are in real life.'

'I try,' she said.

'Are you practising your Craft? Is that what this is?'

'I don't practice any more, Mallory. I'm a professional at this now.' She stepped away from the tree and led the way deeper into the glade. Mallory followed her without a second thought. Her voice floated back to him, detached, ethereal. 'So… now I've seen you… seen the truth in you… I forgive you.'

'Thank you.'

'But not those who you hang out with. Never that.'

'No.' He wanted to touch her hair, it looked so silky in the moonlight, but she was just a little too far ahead. 'Where is this place?'

'Inside your head. Outside your head. Like I said, it depends on your perception.' Her fingers brushed the trees as she passed as if she were caressing them.

'Can I kiss you?'

She chuckled quietly. 'You want to bite down on those emotions, Mallory, or you're going to have no protection when you get back to the world.'

'Well?' His unrestrained feelings burned through him like electricity. He recognised how deeply he felt about her, wanted to grab her and make love to her, do all the things he couldn't do in the real world of barriers and hardship and obligation. The purity of emotion was so overwhelming it was hallucinogenic, a drug he never wanted to give up. Did she feel the same way?

When she turned to face him, he saw for the first time the honesty in her that she had spoken about in him, and he realised that here, perhaps, was someone with whom he could spend the rest of his life. 'Not this time,' she said. 'I want to be sure I have the measure of you. I choose my friends carefully, Mallory, but once my mind is made up I keep them close to me for ever.'

'You seem so much older than your age.'

'Not older, wiser. I'm a wise woman. I've learned a lot in my few years, but there's a lot more to learn. Stick with me, Mallory — some of it might rub off.'

'I'd like that.'

This time she covered her mouth when she laughed. 'You are going to be so sick the next time we meet face to face.'

'You're in your camp… I'm trapped in the cathedral,' he began. 'Can we meet up like this again?'

'Very Romeo and Juliet, isn't it?' She looked a little sad at this. 'Yes, we can meet again.'

'How do I come here… contact you?'

'You don't. I'm in charge here, Mallory, don't forget that.' Her laughter was infectious; he felt an honest smile for the first time in a long while. 'I'll be back in touch.'

She moved off through the trees, but although he tried to keep up, she drew ahead rapidly. 'Don't go,' he called.

Her voice came back like moonlight. 'I'll be back.' And then she was gone.

And so was he.

Mallory woke in the best mood he had felt for a long time, not knowing why, but with the sense of something wonderful hovering just beyond his grasp. Even the biting cold of the room didn't dull his elation.

It was still two hours to daybreak, but the cathedral was already alive. Torches blazed around the cobbled meeting square at the heart of the new buildings. Breath formed white clouds as the knights stamped their boots and clapped their hands to keep warm. A group of about twenty brothers had assembled to one side where they were being given shovels, pickaxes and wooden props.

Blaine marched along the ranks, wrapped in a thick cloak but with the hood pulled back so that everyone could see his eyes. He paused briefly at Mallory, allowing a silent warning to rise up in his face before he moved on. It was nothing new, but an uneasy thought crept up on Mallory: if things went bad a scapegoat would be needed, and he was the most likely candidate. It would be in his own interest to have a contingency plan for escape the moment the tunnel was completed.

'They're going to have their work cut out for them,' Daniels whispered, nodding towards the digging party.

'I'd pick up a spade myself if I thought it would get me out of here any quicker,' Mallory said.

'No talking.' Hipgrave stood before them. His face was cold and hard and clear of the dazed attitude they had seen the previous day. He leaned between them and said quietly, 'I've had a revelation. The Devil is here, in the cathedral. And it's up to us to exorcise him. It was the five of us, you see… the five points of the inverted pentacle. We were the ones who brought him in. We're the only ones who can get him out. We'll discuss this later.' He walked away, casting only a cursory glance over the other knights.

'Lordy,' Daniels said. 'He's set up home in the bughouse.'

An oppressive sense of claustrophobia fell across Mallory. The walls were closing in, shutting down options, filling him with a desperate feeling that he would never get out alive.

Blaine had them all on ceaseless patrols throughout the day to keep them occupied while plans were formulated. Meanwhile, other events were clearly taking place behind the scenes. From the roof, Mallory watched grim-faced elders hurrying back and forth between the bishop's palace and the new buildings, occasionally pausing to talk animatedly to each other. Every now and then a gaggle of six or seven would congregate, their voices rising in debate until they spotted someone drawing near. Stefan, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Up there, he had a clear view of the pagan camp where the Samhain bonfires still burned. Occasionally, he could smell cooking food and hear music drifting on the cold wind. Briefly, he entertained the fantasy that he could see Sophie and she could see him, but it only made him feel worse and he forced himself to stop.

As Mallory made his way down from the roof, he came across two of the brothers talking conspiratorially as they loitered in an alcove beneath one of the great staircases. There was something in their tone that made Mallory pause on the steps to listen.

'I'm getting out of here first chance I get — soon as that tunnel's open,' one of them said in a Black Country accent.

'You can't turn your back on us,' the other one, another Midlander, said. 'You can't turn your back on the Lord!'