The hell

4

Going out in the street is always difficult for me, because the crowds come, especially during market hours. I almost get knocked down by a cab, then by a racing car launched at high speed. I have time to see the driver behind the wheel of the vehicle and growl. A Goblin. Obvious. Climbing up the crowded sidewalk, I think to myself that this is the only place saving me from certain death. I still don't know how we can make horses and roaring engines coexist on the cobblestones of London. Very often, passers-by are found thrown against a wall, or slip under the wheels. Depending on their nature, some survive. When it comes to people like me, it's rare to see him get back up. But that's the least of the mayor's worries.

Since World War III, it has been common knowledge that the UK is not a good place to live as a human. Freedom, for us, is everything. Americas. Only, you still have to fall on the right side of the border and plant your feet in the soil of the North. The South is nothing more than man's hell on earth. Between living with mine, but in the mire, and surviving among creatures in London, my choice is quickly made. However, I'm not sure it's the best.

Adèle believed in it, in the American dream. I've always refused to take the boat or one of those huge airships across the ocean and see if the grass is greener elsewhere. We were born in London. I don't see why we should leave her, that old lady. Despite the pressure we are under on a daily basis, I would not risk myself in another country. However, I lift my scarf over my nose, noticing the police in the distance, and quicken my pace, my fingers tight around my identity card.

- So you're going to make us believe that you forgot your papers at home? says one of the cops, a huge balding Lycanthrope.

Wolves make good chickens, they say. With their flair, I have no doubt that they know better than anyone how to track down the culprits. It is also necessary that the victim does not turn before their eyes into an ugly executioner. Racial inequality is clearly not for my species around here, and the poor old man facing them won't take the shock. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him tremble before the particularly voracious attention of the three predators.

I change streets before knowing the fate of the man. An unenviable fate, every time. Inside, I fume, though I can't change anything. Cicerone may have created new laws aimed at protecting the weakest species, but the law of the jungle advocates in London. The Cicerone... I hold back a sneer as I pass the fish stalls. If there's one bullshit that makes me cringe, it's this group of good people. Powerful people coming together to decide the future of our nation.

They are the ones who determined the new borders. They who imposed certain conditions on all peoples. They wanted peace. They got it, at the cost of monstrous sacrifices. And the corpses just keep piling up a little more every day. You just have to see how it goes for humans in Europe! Here, the creatures govern, and for the most part ignore the laws aimed at reducing inequalities. As a result, humans have a curfew. Humans are much more likely to be arrested than a nymph or a wizard. Humans do the toughest jobs. Certain neighborhoods are forbidden to us, and the rent is often more expensive for us.

So, it is true that in America, human beings have taken their revenge. The arrival of Creatures on American soil is done in a trickle and drastic measures are taken to regulate the population of Creatures. But at what cost ? At least, in London, every human is housed in the same boat. In the Americas, it is far from being the same herbal tea. To the north lives the elite. To the south... the rest. And the images that I could see in the newspaper of the last report in southern territory clearly do not make you want to be part of this remnant.

The nasty look given to me by the being who has just jostled me tells me nothing worthwhile and I prefer to keep a low profile. I have confirmation of having made the right decision when I see the biped buying fresh meat from the local butcher. When he pulls aside his scarf and reveals his mouth, much larger than average, to slip on his breakfast, I look away and quicken my pace, my nerves already on edge. If I am far from being as refractory to certain species, as some of my congeners can be, there are critters that I would prefer not to cross. And the Ghouls are at the top of the list. Imagining Adele fashioned into one of these creatures almost throws me off balance.

I catch myself as best I can at the nearest wall and resume my journey, hoping to reach my goal as quickly as possible. I finally unearth what I'm looking for, around the corner from the old Palace of Westminster. Since the mayor, an Ogre who is rather angry with small shacks, has taken up residence here, the neighborhood has deteriorated slightly. The cops are ten times more numerous, and the chances of getting me arrested have quadrupled. Fortunately, I sneak into yet another alley to enter one of the offices of the EPH, Employment For Humans. My adviser, a middle-aged man, received me without delay. And without smiling.

- I learned about your sister. My sincere condolences.

Nothing surprising in itself, Adèle is a file that he has just completed for him. That he learns of his death is not surprising. That he's offering me his condolences is a bit inflated, but I let it sink in as I sit in the chair facing his old wooden desk.1

- What do you have now, Taylor?

- You mean, after showing you to three-quarters of the merchants in the area? I'm afraid you're on file, miss walker.

I wince, without adding anything. For now.

- You know perfectly well that finding a job for a human is not an easy task these days. Quotas exist, and that is why sorting is extremely selective. The bad elements are very quickly spotted... and put aside.

- Do you think I'm a bad element?

- I don't value anything, Miss Walker. The facts are there, he adds, placing my file in front of him. You lasted two weeks at Madame Young's...

- Did you know she's not really a florist and has a back room, where things that happen in the dark have nothing to do with plants?

- You are blacklisted at Mr. Morton, he continues without raising.

- Of course, but what would you have done if you learned from your sister that the son of this Mr. Morton let his claws slide anywhere, and especially not where they could go?

- Mademoiselle Walker !

I fall silent as Taylor removes her glasses and cleans them in haste. Despite his disapproving tone, I absolutely do not regret the action I had against this dirty little pervert.

- You must understand that each of your actions has an incident, not only on you, but on our whole community. Every bad thing you do proves to Others that we don't deserve our place in this society.

I pout, but find nothing to complain about. After all, he's not wrong, even though it kills me to think so. From there to say it...

- You are a disturbing element, it is a fact. And I must admit that I no longer know where to place you. You clearly do not have the profile to work in private houses, and it is better that you see as few customers as possible. I might be able to get you a seat in a club or a bar, but...

- But you know very well that my bad temper doesn't fit with the drunk face of the individuals I would have to serve.

- And it's a shame, because given your... plastic, there could be many requests.

My "plastic" comes down to a passable face, a small chest and endless legs. However, I do not pride myself on being among the humans who could please the Creatures, knowing their criteria. In a world where Vampires and other critters represent the embodiment of the perfect physique, these same monsters seek out mundane elements at all costs. They chase normality. And, despite my vague Indian origins, my hair and my eyes darker than night, I am... normal. Banal. This observation does not flank me lower than the ground, because I am already there. And I am perfectly aware of my condition.

- What if we look for less glorious jobs?

- There's nothing for you. Whether in the streets or on the quay, the companies recruit men in their thirties at best. At worst, in the prime of life. Never women.

- And why this ?

- To use their term, "the human female is too fragile for the work required".

I glare at him and he throws his hands up, like I'm brandishing a gun to his forehead.

- Those are their words, not mine.

- You haven't contradicted them, I bet, I let out through gritted teeth.

Taylor just shakes her head from side to side, sighing more than getting annoyed.

- If I held such speeches, I would not move heaven and earth to find you a job.

- Your research does not seem sufficient.

- Because you leave me no other alternative, Walker! writes my adviser, ignoring this "miss" he likes to use so much. I'm helpless, and I'm sorry for that. Give me time to find you something.

- You know very well that I don't have that time.

- You had to think about it before you were fired from your last job.

I bang my fist on the table and immediately see him curl up in his seat.

- My sister died at the beginning of the week, I scolded, flames in my eyes. I could n't get to work. You can conceive that, right?

"Of course, of course," Taylor stammers as I lean back in my chair. Listen to what I have to offer you.

- I listen.

- Let me make a few phone calls, he enjoins me, pointing to his landline rotary phone, placed on his desk. I'll see what I can find for you. Come back in the early evening.

Of course, I can't refuse this last offer. So, I accept and quickly find myself in the alley, contemplating my future home if I can't find a solution. Taylor is a good guy, but he's far from a magician. And despite my bad faith, I have to admit that he is not wrong. I am totally at fault in the matter. After a quick analysis, I know that I don't have many options left. Two, actually. Either I go back to the Shallows, to find the glory of yesteryear, or I leave London, to try my luck elsewhere. I know Taylor would be happy to prepare my case for a colleague. I am convinced that I am mainly responsible for his ulcers. My departure could only delight him. I still have to

Outside of London and its surroundings, the UK is relatively untouched by human presence. Other countries in Europe do not have this luxury and the large number of my species does not help to appease the hatred that certain creatures have for us. The fact remains that the United Kingdom obtained this small privilege for a very simple reason. One of the members of Cicerone lives nearby, and can't stand humans. To avoid tickling the certainly very sensitive nerves of this moron, the Cicerone bent to his whim.

Despite the media reporting the slightest event approaching Cicerone from near or far, we know very little about the greats of this world. We obviously know the representatives of our species, but as for the Others... it's more vague. Inevitably, when we know that all of eastern Europe and the whole of Russia is occupied by creatures of which humanity has not the slightest knowledge... we suspect that we are not told everything . It is, according to the powerful still, the best thing to sleep in peace. In peace. They only have this word in their mouths, and for once, I can't really blame them. Our planet has already suffered enough, and it would be a question of letting it breathe. It is not the Nymphs who will tell me otherwise.

All this is not going to move me forward. With a sigh, I drag myself through the streets, watching the surroundings, like any good human. Hands in my pockets, I clench my fists, imagining myself returning to the underground. It was our main source of income when we left the childhood home, Adèle and me. She couldn't bear to see me come back in the early morning, with bloody hands and a smashed face... but we didn't really have any other alternatives. Not right now, anyway. Mentally reviewing the names of some personalities that I was able to rub shoulders with in this other life, I come to tell myself that going back there will not be very difficult. Coming out of it, on the other hand... I almost died there the last time. I'm not really ready to start over.

There remains my departure from London. A new change, for a new life. Only. I don't know if this choice pleases me more than the first. Bypassing a cart full of droppings, I look up and realize I've gotten lost in a corner that I rarely visit. Gazing at the grand facade of the British Museum, one worry after another disappears, leaving only one on my shoulders. Adele. More than a problem, I don't know how to explain to him that I no longer have a place anywhere in London. And, more than anything, I fear that she will consider me a lost cause and fly away to Heaven. I know she would never think that of me, but... the Ferryman might decide to lift her to heaven. He doesn't need my consent for that... and I

After the war, the famous museum changed hands and got a makeover. From now on, we no longer speak of the history of men, but of the history of Creatures. This world which, until recently, was totally unknown to us, has come to light. We men have discovered in particular that if they have been hiding for millennia, the Others have actively participated in writing history alongside us. In the shadows, but with us. Adele has already visited the museum, to glean information that we have not managed to find in the books available at the orphanage. She came out with stars in her eyes.

If we had been able to choose our professions, there is no doubt that Adèle would have become a historian. Or investigator. She has... She had a mind for that kind of thing. Much more thoughtful than me, I suspect she is also much smarter. Although this remains to be proven. Letting a suddenly alert eye trail around me, I realize that I've been stuck in one place for far too long. If a Creature sees me, they would be within their rights to contact law enforcement. After all, a poor human in front of the Museum is necessarily someone suspicious. And maybe he is even part of this Sect, ready to overthrow the Others.

Chuckling, I jump the steps separating me from the entrance of the building and engulf myself in the turnstile, to enter the famous museum. This one, by changing ownership, has become free and accessible to all. From what I know, only a part is privatized and only open to Creatures. Nothing could be more normal for a place of this ilk, right in the center of London. There is no doubt that the high spheres come to put on a show between these walls, with the idea of ​​restoring their image or just shining. Inevitably, after the war, the Others, for the most part, no longer wanted to hide from men. While some, like my charming concierge, prefer to remain discreet, others wish to live in broad daylight.

For once, I can't blame them. Thanks to historical monuments like this museum, we know that certain species can live a long time. Very long, even. And staying hidden for centuries, all because the most powerful decided so...must have been awful. It is said that these same powerful, most of whom now sit in Cicerone, have thrown a veil covering their population. A veil camouflaging them from our poor human eyes. Even today, this kind of magic veil is deployed to hide certain truths from us. Cicerone passed a law authorizing these spells, but requiring certain restrictions. And their use must always be in the interest of the greatest number. From what I have been able to discover, I know for certain that this veil exists. And that'

In the middle of the week, few people circulate in the aisles of the museum, even if certain historical pieces bring together a few onlookers. London has become a base for many Creatures, but is mostly fled by humans. Also, I see few of mine in the corridors, while my steps guide me to the occult part that interests me. Inevitably, with my almost morbid curiosity, I end up slowing down, getting lost through the paintings representing important combat scenes. The section of the Third World War exhibits an incalculable number of objects of all kinds, and several times I take myself to observe for long minutes a mass of Minotaur or a flag of the armies of Rhoc.

Then I forget myself in front of the huge map, painted directly on the wall, depicting the pre-war world and its borders. Thanks to a projector, the map of our New World is superimposed every five minutes on the other, allowing us to contemplate the innumerable changes that Cicerone has made. America, for example! It has always been cut in two, separating the southern hemisphere from the north. What I fail to understand is how so many countries and states could rotate. I'm not saying that our functioning is better, the inequalities show it perfectly... Especially since the upheavals perpetrated by Cicerone still weigh heavily within each country. But this organization seems to me more... simple.

As usual, I end up being passionate about northern Europe and all this region that used to be called Russia. From now on, we don't know anything about this place. A huge wall, the Abyss of Cicerone, maintained by many Archmages in the service of Cicerone, separates this world from ours, and prevents any movement on these hostile lands. The most obscure mysteries hover over this territory. We are talking about millennial species, immense colossi and terrifying monsters. And it is rumored that the Others' greatest secrets are hidden behind walls. Cicerone called these walls protections.

In my humble opinion, if we are protected, it is not for nothing. Having seen the most common Creatures fight, I know they are not to be underestimated. Even the smallest Fauna is to be watched. That the Others, during the war, called upon the services of the monsters hiding behind the walls before sending them hastily back there, proves something important. They are as afraid of it as we are. Otherwise, there would probably not have been any semblance of peace, and the war would have made a winner. Unsurprisingly, my species would have been defeated. And maybe today, I will evolve with ten times less freedom.

If America is under the governance of human beings, Europe is under the yoke of Creatures. Africa also belongs to humans, but suffers from enormous climatic, political and other problems. All I know is that it is not good to end up in the holds of a boat leaving for the Sahel. Asia belongs to the Others, and to know the fate of my peers... I know myself much better in London. The islands were divided between the two great peoples. There remain the arctic countries, left without control, and Australia, which undergoes societal experiments on the part of Cicerone. He paid a lot of people to live there, in return for a few... tests. It is largely unknown what is going on there, and my opinion that it is not worse. What we do not know cannot reach us. Nope ? Noises suddenly reach me and make me raise my head in their direction. A conversation, between two people presumably, escalates loudly, and increases as they get closer to my driveway. Thinking of a household scene, I don't think I was wrong in noticing two individuals, of opposite sexes, entering the hall of the Third World War. However, their argument, which comes to me more and more clearly, holds my attention. I don't think I'm wrong in noticing two individuals, of opposite sexes, entering the Third World War lobby. However, their argument, which comes to me more and more clearly, holds my attention. I don't think I'm wrong in noticing two individuals, of opposite sexes, entering the Third World War lobby. However, their argument, which comes to me more and more clearly, holds my attention.

- You can't do this to me, Ishmael! the girl shouts as the other pulls her by the arm, visibly ready to release her from the museum.

From where I am, about fifteen meters from them, I can only see the back of the man. But the woman, she appears to me clearly. And all I can say is that she's not human. His face is far too smooth, far too perfect to be of my kind. And despite all the will in the world and a good dose of female solidarity... I don't move an inch, contenting myself with watching them out of the corner of my eye. The truth is, I try to stay out of trouble as much as possible. And there's no way I'm risking anything to save a Creature's ass. They're supposed to be more powerful than us, so they don't need the help of a little human. Especially when said little human is stuck in a certain part of the capital. After four years in the Bas-fonds, it's not surprising.

- Really ? replies the male individual in a deep voice. Take a good look, my pretty.

Her grip tightens around the arm of what seems to me to be a Nymph and she grimaces, distorting her beautiful face. Then his eyes take on a khaki color and his feet are anchored in the ground with power, stopping their race in the middle of the aisle. The man turns to her, and from where I am, I can feel the temperature of the room rising. And shit . I take a look around, and realize that apart from me and the couple in full turmoil, the few people have decamped to another section of the museum. As slowly as possible, I slip behind a statue representing one of the founders of Cicerone, and wait for the storm to pass.

- Now you're going to listen to me! growls the Nymph, well put together.

His interlocutor sighs, releases her and shakes his head without losing his calm.

- You had your chance to do it, remember? Before destroying his office.

- I did not do it on purpose !

- Irene, not to me. At your age, errors of this kind are precisely not errors. It was calculated.

- What interest would I have in exploding this superb piece of furniture in solid mahogany wood?

The man, who doesn't seem more human than her, shrugs his shoulders. With this simple gesture, his t-shirt stretches on his back and I notice the beginning of his... Shit again . It has wings and I see the beginnings of their appearances, a sign of growing nervousness. While squatting, ready to decamp at the slightest crooked fart, I quickly pass the Creatures known for their wings.

It's not an Angel, that I'm sure. It doesn't light up the room, and God's servants can't do anything about temperature changes. A soldier of the Rhôc army, either. They are meant to be cold, unbiased, and completely impervious to earthly emotions. Rumors about them may be wrong or amplified, but they can't be entirely wrong. My mind, always present to reassure me, reminds me of two species, which I have not yet mentioned. Jinns and Demons. Inwardly, I begin to hope with all my might that the male is only a Lesser Demon. And if it's a Major... Provided he doesn't get angry.

- Let's see... First of all, you abhor his fad for wooden furniture. Then, it allowed you to have a theatrical outing, with me as a bouncer. Finally, I am the centerpiece of your plan. Because if he doesn't listen to you, you think I'm much less judgmental.

His tone is serious, no less threatening, but calm. If he could stay that way, I would be totally relieved. However, I slip my hand into my boot and run my fingers over the blade that accompanies me on each of my trips. She won't do me much good if he turns out to be one of the most powerful Creatures in our world. However, with a bit of luck, it's only a very small Demon, which I can manage to subdue before running away, belly to the ground. Otherwise, it seems that I join Adele much faster than she expected.

- Come on, Ishmael... You don't think so...

- Manipulative? the man interrupts, a smile in his voice. Come on, Irene... how about you explain to me, instead of wasting my time?

The so-called Irene keeps her wax mask for a few minutes, before the truth explodes at the head of the famous Ishmael. Vines appear along the female's arms as her face of false candor disappears, in favor of a much more real anger.

- You know that I would never have acted on a whim! It's not my type. And that thug deserved the beating I gave him.

- If he just hurt your sacrosanct ego...

- It's not about that, come on! Do you think me so dumb?

Ishmael doesn't answer, and the Nymph lets out an evil hiss, while the vines continue their progression along her body, dressed in a short skirt and an ocher shirt. In response to this obvious threat, the room warms a few more degrees and I start to sweat profusely as the heat now emanates very clearly... from the man. I widen my eyes, finally understanding what this individual is. Impossible... It is said that they all disappeared during the war.

- Don't forget who you're talking to, Irene! thunders Ishmael as his wings take shape more clearly behind his back. I have all the power within these walls, and given the state of nervousness in which you left him, there is no doubt that he will not regret you!

The Nymph does not take long before abdicating and even engages cautiously backwards, her head lowered. I wince at this demonstration of submission, still unable to understand how one can so easily lower the spine. Then reminiscences of my past come back to me and my grimace fades. How ? Nothing easier. Break the person, and they're all devoted to you.

- Good, Ishmael finally resumes, after a minute of silence. I advise you to be discreet, these next few days. Let him bleach, and I'll talk to him... maybe.

- What about my protection?

- You still have his seal, don't you?

This answer seems to suffice. Irene performs a slight curtsey and decamps without asking for her rest, in a gait that does not, however, lack grace. The man remains motionless for a moment, before running a hand through his hair, with a long sigh.

- And now, we'll have to find another bartender...

I get up slowly, waiting impatiently for him to leave. Unfortunately for me, my left knee, too often dislocated, emits a snapping sound. In the middle of a silent room. Holding my breath, I remain against the statue, as still as she is. Then I try to take a look behind her... and meet a gaze far too close. 

- Well, well, what do we have here? whispers Ishmael.