The Devil in Green (71 page)

Recalling their previous meeting when his every emotion had been
untrammelled, he struggled to keep control while maintaining a superficially blasé appearance. 'And
why
do you come here to see me?' he said,
leaning against a tree as nonchalantly as he could manage. But it was
difficult; every fibre of him wanted to feel the sensation of her pressed
against his body, forced inside him so he could consume all parts of her.

'It passes the time.' She flashed him a sideways glance, quickly obscured
by her hair.

'You said we should stop playing games.' He tried to analyse why he felt
so strongly about her, but it escaped all examination: too complex, too
deep-seated, too many interrelated subtleties of intellect, emotion and
physical appearance. It was simply the way it was, and he had to accept it
on those terms.

'I'm not. But,' she added thoughtfully, 'the travelling is half the fun of
getting here.'

'Then you haven't been doing it right.'

The glade was filled with a crackling tension, both emotional and sexual.
Mallory realised his breathing had become shallow, could see the same
quick rise and fall in Sophie's chest. She kept her face turned away from
him so he couldn't see her reactions. 'And you've actually
had
a relationship before? Amazing.'

He was hypnotised by the way she moved, in and out of the circle now,
light and supple. 'You've forgiven me, then?' he asked.

'Just about.'

'We're trying to dig a tunnel into your camp.'

She flashed him another look, more suspicious this time. 'We heard the
digging. What's going on?'

'We're starting to starve in there .
. .
you know those things won't let us
in or out. Pretty soon people are going to start dying.'

'And you expect.
. .
what? Sympathy? For the people who killed
Melanie and Scab?'

Mallory walked into the centre of the circle, turning slowly to follow her.
He could barely contain the electric charge in his limbs. 'You're talking
about prejudice now . . . the kind of thing you said your own people face.
Yes, there are some unpleasant types in the cathedral . . . same as
everywhere. But a lot of them are good, decent, possibly misguided, but—'

'And what are you asking?'

'For your help.' She didn't show whether she had heard him. 'You can
trust me.'

This time she looked up. 'I think I
can
trust you, Mallory.' She sounded
surprised herself. 'But how do I know I can trust the rest of the God
Squad?'

'All they want is some
food
...
a way to carry on believing in what they
believe in. The same as you.'

Mallory was intrigued to see what looked like moonlight glimmering
where her bare feet had just trod. 'So they dig under the wall . . . what
then?'

'The food comes in through your camp to the tunnel. In return, they
can offer
something ...
I don't know. See it as trade between nation-
states. They've got a good standard of health care . . . they know about
herbs—'

'So do we.'

'And they've got a massive wine cellar and a lake of beer.'

'OK, you sold me.' She laughed. 'Whose idea was this?'

'Mine.'

'Preaching peace and love between men, Mallory? There's hope for you
yet.'

'There might have been a slightly more selfish motivation.' Hunger
consumed him. In that place where there were no rules and no judgment,
he finally accepted he didn't have to pretend.

Her eyes flashed in the moonlight. 'Oh?' A faint smile.

'Well, you won't come to me . . .'

'Major engineering works, just to see me? How very romantic.' She
broke off from her dance and entered the circle to join him. There was
nothing coy about her; she was as strong and confident as he was: an equal.
All his repressed emotion rushed up and out: his consuming guilt, his fear

and, most of all, his love. At that moment, nothing else mattered - all
Existence revolved around the two of them.

He grabbed her shoulders forcefully and pulled her forwards. She
propelled herself to him with the same hunger. This kiss was so much
more than the tentative, desperate first one: it was voracious; all barriers
crashed before it. Her skin was hot. Their lips were hard and bruising,
their mouths moving with desire, hands raking each other's bodies.

Energy crackled between them:
Blue Fire
, Mallory thought, filling them,
consuming them. From that point, there was no going back.

The next day dawned cold and grey, but Mallory took to it as if it was
midsummer. He found time to go up on to the walls so he could look at the
trees that lined the hillsides to the south of the city, bare black amid the
evergreens. As he slowly made his way along the walkway, enjoying the
peace away from the oppressive control of the knights, he became aware of
two people talking below him. There was something in the tone of their
conversation that caught his attention, a note of deep concern, perhaps of
undue seriousness. He peered cautiously over the edge to see James and
Julian so engrossed they were oblivious to his presence above them.

'It's outrageous,' Julian said. 'He should be using his position to bring
the camps
together.
He doesn't have a mandate. The election was so close it
could have gone either way. And after we all made such a big show of
supporting him . . .'

'There'll be trouble. Some on our side won't toe the line indefinitely for
the sake of unity,' James said. He added hopefully, 'Perhaps he won't go
down that road. It's all rumour and innuendo—'

'It sounded pretty copper-bottomed when I heard it.' Julian's voice
snapped with repressed anger. 'He could split the Church. How stupid is
that? We're barely hanging on by our fingernails. To fragment us now
could be
.
. .' He shook his head. Tears of anger flecked his eyes. 'I can't
believe this is happening so soon after Cornelius passed. He'd be outraged,
after all he did to bring together all the conflicting factions. Good Lord,
even the Baptists. I'm starting to think he should have been a little more
exacting in his inclusion policy.'

James clapped him on the shoulder supportively. 'Things have been bad
before. We'll pull through, God willing. If things are going the way you
say, we have to make a stand. We
have
to. We can't let the Church be taken
over in this way. It would be disastrous. The responsibility is on us to
provide a counterbalance.'

'And how do you think he'll respond to that?' Julian said. 'For all his
public pronouncements, he's never been one for compromise.'