Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

Just as Hipgrave said, it did one final roll and swooped back down, directiy overhead. They all raised their weapons and fired randomly, more out of panic than anything. It was still too high for most of the bullets to reach it.

'Wait for the order!' Hipgrave bellowed.

The Beast came down with the speed of a jet fighter, and it didn't appear to be letting up. The thought ran through all of them at the same time: it was going to smash into them, destroy them and the hated cathedral in a suicide attack. Several knights threw themselves flat and covered their heads.

'Get set!' Hipgrave ordered. 'Fire!'

Another volley of shots burst skyward. This time Mallory heard numerous tiny clangs as some were deflected by the scales, but others pierced their target. The beast writhed in the air, still driving down fast.

'Oh, God!' Miller mewled.

Mallory saw those gleaming red eyes bearing down on him and sensed something numinous lying just behind them. While the others dived for cover, he remained standing, strangely calm, locked into their depths.

At the last moment, when it was about to pile straight into the cathedral, it appeared to sense what lay below and twisted into a horizontal flight that rushed mere feet over them. Mallory was buffeted by turbulence and fought to remain standing. The beating of the wings was deafening, the air filled with the foundry smell of the beast.

As the knights climbed to their feet — some of whose who had cried out now sheepish and furtive — Miller muttered, 'And now it's raining.'

Mallory checked the wetness on the back of his hand. 'Not raining. Blood.' His skin was flecked with droplets of a dark liquid that didn't have the consistency of human blood. There was an odd texture to it, like oil, and he was surprised to feel a sense of wellbeing from its contact. It remained for a second or two, then faded away as mysteriously as it had come.

'At least we've hurt the bastard,' Gardener grunted. 'Blaine was right — they're not as big and powerful as we thought.'

'Flesh wounds,' Daniels said. 'We've got a long way to go yet. Look at it.'

The Beast swooped and rolled on the currents above the city, filled with grace and power; it was a sight that brought awe to all of them, despite themselves.

'I'm not sure about this,' Mallory said, marvelling at the Beast's flight.

Gardener flashed him a suspicious glance. 'What do you mean?'

'It's not right to loll it. What good would that do?'

'Send a message,' Gardener said.

'Is that a good enough reason for destroying a living thing?'

'Steady on, Mallory. You're starting to sound like me.' Miller grinned at him, then turned to the others. 'He's right, I think. Look at it — it's an amazing creature. It would be like shooting a horse or something.'

'Don't start going down that road,' Gardener growled. 'Bloody defeatists. Daniels, what do you think?'

Daniels was checking his gun over. 'I'm just following orders.'

'That's why we have leaders,' Gardener continued. 'To sort out what's right and wrong so we can be free to get down to business.'

'I can't begin to tell you how so wrong that line of thinking is,' Mallory said sharply. He was interrupted by Hipgrave ordering them to prepare for another attack. Gardener mumbled something under his breath that sounded very much like an insult.

The Fabulous Beast performed an immaculate loop over the city and prepared for another attack. Mallory glanced over at the Blues. The big gun still hadn't been used, though the crew aiming it was poised. The Beast had so far proved too fast and agile, but Blaine's tactics were clear: he would wait to give the order until the Beast was slowed by its wounds.

The creature skimmed the rooftops, eyes blazing, smoke streaming from its mouth and nose. The sight was so terrifying, Mallory saw the faces around him go rigid. Yet he didn't feel that what he saw there was driven by hatred of humanity, or hunger, or some nebulous Christian concept of Evil. It was something primal, but also oddly innocent.

The guns on every side were levelled at it. They had seemed pathetic before, but now he was not so sure: a thousand tiny blows were as good as one big one.

Go away, Mallory prayed silently. Leave, before you're hurt. He surprised himself with the notion.

He raised his gun with the others, but when the order came he didn't pull the trigger. What was the reason for his odd empathy with the creature? The sound of gunfire made his ears ache. The creature snapped out of its flight path. Every hit made his insides knot.

When it looped around to strike again, its movements were noticeably slower. The wings were beating more heavily and there was a perceivable wobble in its lithe undulations.

'This is it,' Gardener said.

Why doesn't it use its fire? Mallory thought. Even if the site was protected, it couldn't possibly know that.

The Beast came in low over the rooftops once again. This time, Hipgrave looked to Blaine before telling them to hold their fire. The Blues manning the big gun moved quickly, tracking the Beast's trajectory.

Mallory's heart took a dip. His gun slipped from his fingers, dropping to the roof with a clatter.

The retort of the big gun boomed across the cathedral compound. The Fabulous Beast was frozen in Mallory's mind just beyond the cathedral walls, its red eyes glowing with a fierce, alien intelligence; not even the explosion of the gun going off could force him to tear his gaze from it. Everyone around was caught in states of jubilation and shock.

And then it all erupted in a chaotic jumble of images. The Fabulous Beast was hit square on. There was an explosion; blue light flashed everywhere. Through his ringing ears, Mallory thought he could hear a sound like the wind in the mountains, and then the Beast was thrown back and up. It came down quickly, its wings unmoving, its eyes no longer burning.

It hit the shopping arcade hard, flattening buildings, raising a tremendous cloud of billowing dust. It skidded for a way, bringing down more shops, before coming to rest. The night was filled with the sound of tumbling masonry.

'They did it,' Daniels said in blank disbelief. 'They killed it.'

A loud cheer rose up from the knights. The Fabulous Beast was obscured by the buildings all around, but there was no doubt that Daniels was right. Mallory turned away, desperately troubled and shocked, not knowing why he felt that way.

Across the roof, the blue beacon winked out as the elite knights ended whatever they had set in motion and then quickly made their way back into the cathedral.

During the 'great silence' that followed compline, when the brethren retired to their cells, there was only the raucous talk of the knights and guards echoing through the vast, empty spaces. But as the brothers emerged at midnight for the night office, it was obvious word had circulated quickly: spirits were high and chatter was animated. The might of God had once more been evidenced; a blow had been struck against the Devil.

Mallory was uncharacteristically dismal. He felt out of sorts, unable to divine his own feelings, detached from his fellow knights. Only Miller appeared to hold some doubts, but Mallory certainly couldn't talk to him. All he knew was that something felt intuitively wrong.

It was an instinct that appeared to be reflected in the weather. The moment the Fabulous Beast had crashed to the ground, dead, the temperature had dropped a degree or two and a powerful wind blew up from the east, battering the cathedral and howling amongst the eaves as if in mourning. Flurries of snow began to fall shortiy after. More, the air itself seemed to taste different, bitter; Mallory hoped it was just the ashes from the burning buildings.