Tales of the Hidden World by Simon R. Green Read Free Book Online Page B

there and do good. Remember: you’ve a quota to meet.”
    We’re already up and on our feet and heading out, muttering comments just quietly enough that the supervisor can pretend he doesn’t hear them. It’s the little victories that keep you going. We all take our time about leaving, just to show we won’t be hurried. I take a moment to nod politely to the contingent of local working girls, soaking up what warmth they can from the café, before a long night out on the cold, cold streets. We know them, and they know us, because we all walk the same streets and share the same hours. All decked out in bright colors and industrial-strength makeup, they chatter together like gaudy birds of paradise, putting off the moment when they have to go out to work.
    Rachel looks across at me and winks. I’m probably the only one there who knows her real name. Everyone else just calls her Red, after her hair. Not much room for subtlety in the meat market. Not yet thirty, and already too old for the better locations, Red wears a heavy coat with hardly anything underneath it, and stilettos with heels long enough to qualify as deadly weapons. She crushes a cigarette in an ashtray, blows smoke into the steamy air, and gets up to join me. Just casually, in passing.
    “Hello, Charlie boy. How’s tricks?”
    “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
    We both smile. She thinks she knows what I do, but she doesn’t. Not really.
    “Watch yourself out there, Charlie boy. Lot of bad people around these days.”
    I pay attention. Prossies hear a lot. “Anyone special in mind, Red?”
    But she’s already moving away. Working girls never let themselves got close to anyone. “Let me just check I’ve got all my things: straight razor, brass knuckles, pepper spray, condoms, and lube. There, ready for anything.”
    “Be good, Red.”
    “I’m always good, Charlie boy.”
    I hold the door open for her, and we go out into the night.
    I walk my beat alone, up and down and back and forth, covering the streets of Soho in a regular pattern. Dark now, only artificial light standing between us and everything the night holds. The streets are packed with tourists and johns, in search of just the right place to be properly fleeced, and then sent on their way with empty pockets and maybe a few nice memories to keep them going till next time. Neon blazes and temptation calls, but that’s just the Soho everyone sees. I see a hell of a sight more, because I’m a street wizard. And I have the Sight.
    When I raise my Sight, I can See the world as it really is, and not as most people think it is. I get to See all the wonders and marvels, the terrors and the nightmares, the glamour and magic and general weird shit most people never even know exists. I raise my Sight and look on the world with fresh eyes, and the night comes alive, bursting with hidden glories and miracles, gods and monsters. And I get to See it all.
    Gog and Magog, the giants, go fist fighting through the back streets of Soho; bigger than buildings, their huge misty forms smash through shops and businesses without even touching them. Less than ghosts, more than memories, Gog and Magog fight a fight that will never end till history itself comes stumbling to a halt. They were here before London, and there are those who say they’ll still be here long after London is gone.
    Wee-winged fairies come slamming down the street like living shooting stars, darting in and out of the lampposts in a gleeful game of tag, leaving long, shimmering trails behind them. Angels go line dancing on the roof of Saint Giles’s Church. And a handful of Men in Black check the details of parked vehicles, because not everything that looks like a car is a car. Remember the missing traffic cops?
    If everyone could See the world as it really is, and not as we would have it, if they could See everything and everyone they share the world with, they’d shit themselves. They’d go stark staring mad. They couldn’t cope.