The hell

1

Nowadays

I've always loved the relief that the dead bring us, the tranquility of their silence. Even if I know that some can get up, that some are not quite on the other side, walking up the aisles has always been synonymous with peace for me. I am a cemetery walker. A visitor to the tombs. Not like a Necromancer, certainly not like a Ghoul. I just walk around. Sometimes I stop and read a few names. I work a bouquet about to wither, I weed a grave without descendants.

I wonder about their past, try to decipher what they were based on their epitaph, when they have one. Was this man a torturer with his wife and a loving father? Did this woman live all her dreams or did she let herself die, swallowed up by a life that was too short? I always stay longer in front of children's graves. As if, suddenly, the grief of their parents was suffocating me, grabbing me to make me feel their pain and pushing me to follow them into the crypts.

But Ghosts don't often appear to humans, and I continue on my way, without looking for a shadow or a trace of a past of which I have no knowledge. Regularly, I sit down under one of the old oaks protecting the mausoleums from bad weather to read or talk. If I was a Necromancer, I could meet the gaze of a dead person and interact with him. I could ask them about the moments they lived in their old life. Together, we could find whole sections of a bygone past, just for the pleasure of immersing ourselves in history.

But I'm not a Necromancer. I'm only human, just like Adele. And as his urn is placed in the grave, I have the thought that I will never return to a cemetery again. From a distance, I hear the priest say a few words in his honor, but nothing distinct comes through. A funeral is never fun. However, I feel like laughing, because I don't believe it. The procession passes in front of my wide-eyed eyes, without my really understanding what is happening. We think we have all the time in the world until life calls us back to our sister. The death.

It falls on us, without warning. Never. Or at least almost never. There are always a few Originals who want to know the day they died and contact an Oracle. This, in my opinion, is not really a good idea. Adele and I... we always laughed at this kind of behavior. Of these people, unable to live, and content to survive in a world where man has become prey. Where the man is weak. Adele and I... thought we had time to live and laugh. And here I am, in front of his grave, collapsed. Destroyed. Anyone would be. My world has gone up in smoke.

After the ceremony, I stay in front of the small grave, which now houses the rest of his ashes. Adele was a believer, and I know she would have loved the idea of ​​having her own coffin. Adele was like that, a little too fascinated by her own death. However, she knew that she would never have had the means, and that she could not count on me. With the population drop that we have suffered since the war, the undertakers have doubled the prices, and the cemeteries are overwhelmed. There's only room for the rich now. And Human cemeteries are a rare commodity in London. There remains the mass grave, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Adele's last house cost me mine.

In a month, if I don't find a solution, I'll be kicked out of our little apartment. I am convinced that Adele, if she could have spoken, would have told me not to have a guilty conscience and to throw her into the Thames, where an incalculable number of corpses lie. The Mayor of London once tried to drain the river and restore it to its former glory. The result amounted to several hundred bodies, in more or less good condition. For once, there was everything. Wolves, Fairies, Sorcerers, Humans... They say they have fished out Metamorphs, even if I don't really believe it. Everyone knows that this species is on the verge of extinction, or has already disappeared.

A deep sigh escapes me as the few people attending the ceremony disappear into the surrounding aisles. No, I couldn't bring myself to throw Adele into the bottom of the river. Even if she is no more. Even if I could, in the past, have an extreme control. It's a border I don't want to cross. Respect for the dead. There have been so many in recent years... Of course, I could have tried the resurrection. But it doesn't work all the time. And Adele had signed a paper forbidding me to do so, anyway. She who has always been a vegetarian would have been put off by the diet of the Ghouls and the undead. It can be understood. A week since she left me, and I can't bring myself to resolve it.

I looked, in vain, for a way to bring her back. Necromancers are not an option, nor are Vampires. Although this repels me to the highest point, I still found myself, one evening, talking to one of them. What he asked of me in exchange for this helping hand... made my blood run cold. No bad pun. Inevitably, Adèle would have ended up in his service. And I should have let him pump my veins long enough to faint. If getting off with a Vampire is something I could have tested there was a time without any problem, now... I'm more cautious of new experiences. Overall, I prefer to restrict myself to human activities. Preferably legal, even if I don't have a choice every day.

I squint out of the corner of my eye at the only man still around. Like me, Adele had no family. However, she had managed to create a small circle of friends, which I have always envied her. She had this ease in public, and this fascination with the world... which often frightened me. The biggest difference between us comes down to our past. She overcame it as I got stuck in it. Several of his acquaintances came to greet me and it took all the effort in the world not to back down. To not run away. To not collapse. And when I met two melancholy gray eyes, anger also clashed. Inside me, a rumble went off. Like every time I find myself faced with an unmanageable situation.

The death of Adèle is impossible to conceive. And for Samuel to show up at his funeral... is too much. Very good. Samuel is a mistake, from a past that I try to run away from. Samuel is a Frenchman, gallant, charming, with a pretty smile that highlights his incredibly white teeth. Samuel is a smooth guy, with a rare elegance and small round glasses. And with him, I saw what a simple future could look like. Normal. One who needs changes in his life has never experienced the happiness of a carefree life.

I dream of it, I die of it.

Adele, however, repeated to me that I was not made for a tidy existence. That I couldn't acclimatize. Because, at night, those I flee come back to haunt me. At first, Samuel saw in me someone to save. My night terrors allowed him to play the hero at night, when he took me in his arms and whispered to me that it was going to pass. That he was there, forever, by my side. Of course, it was all bullshit. Shameless lies, which he spewed in my face without flinching. When I learned his little secret, a storm fell on me, reminding me to quickly put on my iron shell, to use it as a lightning rod.

Samuel was just a mistake. And this error still came to Adele's funeral. That he comes... is acceptable. But that he tries to take me in his arms to comfort me was the final straw. My glare didn't escape him and he stepped back, hands in the air. The face lit up with real fear. Because if I know his little secret, it is obviously very clear that he is aware of mine. Yet I wouldn't be able to do anything on this winter morning. The frost clings to the trees and to my lips, sealing my thoughts in a dark, lifeless room. Because Adele is no more. And Adele was everything. When I place a flower on the grave, his favorite, I let out a few fragments of my heart, which falls with a dull sound on the freshly turned earth. I grab a clod and wiggle it between my trembling fingers, my mind cloudy and my eyes staring. Nervous footsteps reach me behind me, as though through one-way glass.

- My condolences, Miss Walker...

My caretaker. A Fairy of unparalleled kindness, who strangely rivals the far too strong character of his wife. Fortunately, this old owl didn't deign to show up today.

- Thank you, O'Neill.

This family name is not his, but many Creatures preferred to keep their human identity, when they still lived hidden, rather to assert themselves... and suffer some repercussions. O'Neill once confessed to me that he had Irish blood. What he told me next traumatized me enough that I never asked him about his past again. Knowing that my janitor is a Pixie is one thing. Understanding that he fought in wars dating back centuries is quite another.

- Above all, do not hesitate, if you need help. I know you and Adele... were close.

- In effect. I will miss my sister.

These words are declaimed without intonation. They are empty, hollow. And O'Neill is not fooled. I hear him clear his throat, and propriety dictates that I get up and turn around in his direction. But it's beyond my strength, like everything else. What am I going to do without her? Adele... had something magnetic, electric. And we had a strong bond. Very strong. Built in adversity and in the heart of bloody waves.

From the same age, we knew how to fight by helping each other. Both of us, without family, in the same childhood home, we protected ourselves against the violence of others, and of the world in general. We faced it all with our backs straight. And together. Running away from the orphanage was obvious, for her as for me. We were finally free, and we thought we were at peace. Then the disillusionment of maturity darkened our tomorrows and precipitated us towards our downfall. Towards his. Towards mine.

- Of course, resumes the Fairy, chewing on an old wooden pipe. Even if it's a speech you don't want to hear, know that life is like that. And you will understand, by losing often, that we only win a few times.

He pulls away as I glance over my shoulder at him. I'm not really surprised by his words. Irritated, definitely. These are words that no one would want to listen to when burying a loved one. But O'Neill is an ancestor, and, like any old man, he has a part of mystery linked to a very particular experience. Lived that I wouldn't want to know for anything in the world. To make him so cynical, I dare not imagine what he had to endure.

As I get up, I observe the little tomb for a moment longer, replaying its words in the back of my head. Then I sigh, abandoning annoyance to sadness. No matter where my day takes me, the evening will come to enclose me in its cold arms to remind me of my sorrow. She's been gone for five nights. Five. It's far too little not to let me go every night. Each day. I turn around and realize that Samuel is still there. His melancholy eyes land on me and a weak smile appears on his lips, as if to apologize in advance. As if to apologize from before.

- Is...

- Non.

My voice carries far, even if it is only a whisper. Samuel pauses, shakes his head, and continues, ignoring the alarms ringing in his head. Begging him to leave me alone.

- I wanted to tell you that I was sorry. That's all. Adele did not deserve to die like this.

My muscles tense, my blood freezes and my bones clash in an unbearable rumble. And anger courses through me, devouring my guts. Nullifying my sorrow. Just for a while. In two strides, I stand against him, grabbing him by the collar of his well-ironed shirt.

- And how should she have died, according to you? By jumping without a parachute from an airship? By crossing fanatics of the Converted Sect?

Her complexion turns livid while mine darkens every second. Dark, evil fury shoots through me and makes me vomit verbal bile nonstop.

- No, she died hit by a fucking car. But admit it, you don't care! What are you here for, exactly? Pay homage to him? Let's stop laughing for five minutes, and drop the pretenses. What do you want, Samuel? Trying to put the pieces back together? Take advantage of my ordeal?

- You hurt me !

- You are nothing, damn it! Leaving you is only a tenth of the pain I'm currently feeling! You are no match for her and you never have! You're nothing, you hear me?! Nothing compared to what she embodied for me. So, get your fucking asshole out of here, before I really decide to repaint you!

I release him and he quickly pulls away from me, staring at me, his eyes wide.

- I was warned, he replies in a harsh voice, pulling on his jacket. I was told you were mad to tie! I just wanted to try to support you and here's how...

- I don't need your help, and certainly not yours, so get out, motherfucker!

- Insulting me won't solve anything.

- But it relieves me, I scolded, clenching my fists. No messing around, go, Samuel. Otherwise, you risk understanding why the neighborhood advised you to avoid me.

- I who wanted to reach out to you...

He heaves a deep sigh, then ends up leaving, his face low and his shoulders downcast. I'm not even angry anymore when he disappears in the distance, and the storm begins to thunder in the sky. When the rain kicks in and wraps me in a curtain of comfort, I release the pressure and my white fists unclench in front of my pale face. While noticing the furrows that my fingernails have traced in my skin, I think to myself that all this looks too much like a slapstick comedy, a stupid old TV movie. If I were an actress, I would set off in her footsteps, catch up with Samuel to declaim words of love to him. My valiant knight would accept my apologies before kissing me under the black clouds.

But this is real life... and I would never get a movie award. And Samuel will never be decried as the knight of his ladies. He will never be anything but a poor jerk, who had the misfortune to come across a girl who was too smart for him. And unfortunately for me, I speak well of Adele.

As the rain thickens, I creep to Adele's grave and brush my thumb against her epitaph. Rest in peace and protect the part of my soul that lives in you . Adele believed, like all believers, in God and Gaia. Since the arrival of Angels and Demons in our lives, it's hard to imagine anything else... She told me one day that we were kindred spirits. That our souls intertwined and lived in harmony. Even if I don't believe it, it's a nice nod to one of his beautiful follies. Of this wonderful memory. I contemplate for a moment the few bouquets garnishing her tomb and brush the amaryllis with my fingertips.

- It seems to me that you love these flowers, I whispered in a tenuous breath. It should make you happy to know that it was little Mike who brought them. Even if I find them gloomy, I must admit that it gives a certain... cachet to your stone.

I kneel, my legs shaking, as the storm hovers above my head and pours its anger on my soaked hair.

- I'm... sorry for letting you down. You must blame me, don't you? I know you were hoping for me to be with you on... your mission. To retrieve the documents you've wanted for so long... Three years you've been searching for our parents' identities and you were going to find them, right? You will be happy, or at least reassured, to learn that I have recovered your precious pocket. A cop returned it to me intact. I haven't had the heart to open it yet... but I will. Promised. Just... give me some time before I go through your stuff. At the moment, I don't have the strength. 

My voice cracks and I find it hard to breathe. The starting signal, obviously. Trying to catch my breath, I slowly get up, take one last look at the grave before heading back to the apartment. My apartment now. Forever empty. Forever sad. Like me.