She expelled some smoke and finally began to behave normally, asking how he was doing. They discussed for a while, and it was a very nice conversation. The woman was very interested in Victorian era, and when Hal was on his favourite topic, he was an authentic chatterbox. Then they evoked Sherlock Holmes, Dickens’ works, Frankenstein and their favourite films and TV series.

- So your flatmate thinks dear Victor is a dumbass? Did you show her Penny Dreadful?

- I don’t know Penny Dreadful.

She laughed.

- You say you like Victorian era and you don’t even know Penny Dreadful? This is a sin. Come on, I’ll show you.

Hal followed her. He was rather surprised; he read and watched everything he could about this time, and he had never heard about this show.

She led him to a room upstairs and took a computer out of what should be her bag. It was a big black bag, which could have been a doctor’s satchel in Victorian era, and he refrained to ask where she had found it.

She lied down on the bed, told him to come and started the first episode.

Hal lied down next to her. He was not sure of her intentions: did she only want to watch the episode or was she hoping for something else? And he still had this weird feeling of strangeness and familiarity altogether...

Bah! He was having a good time and he wanted to come back as late as possible – flat’s walls were thin and he was not keen to hear Jane having relations.

So nevermind. If the woman initiated something, he would follow and improvise without any problem, otherwise he would only discover a good TV series.

It almost happened. The woman didn’t try anything.

Half of the episode was past, and Hal had understood why he had never heard about it; it was much more fantastic than historical. But it was still fascinating.

- Welcome to the demimonde, Mister Chandler, Miss Ives said in the screen.

Then she turned face to camera, looked at Hal straight in his eyes and said:

- Welcome, Mr. October.

Hal thought he was dreaming. Or maybe he had drunk too much. It was not possible at all, characters played by actors and recorded by cameras just DON’T talk to viewers!

- Mr. October? We are waiting for you, Miss Ives insisted.

Unable to stop staring at the screen, unable to have even a single glance to the girl next to him as well and convinced he was becoming mad, Hal replied:

- My name is Halloween. My surname is not October.

- Where we are going, your real name would better not to be pronounced, Mr. October. Come, demimonde is waiting for you.

- Come? Come where and how?

- Make a step to me. Come !

She offered him her hand.

How to make a step lying down on a bed? Hal’s brain was indeed playing with him. He decided to crawl of one foot towards the screen while imitating a step, as confused as in a dream.

He felt his legs rub the sheets, and without knowing how, he found himself lying down on the floor of a dirty sewer, right under Miss Ives’ hand.

He got back on his feet almost immediately and mumbled something like “That’s not possible”. But Penny Dreadful’s characters were already walking far away, and he ran after them.

- What the hell? How is it possible? Am I in the episode?

- Not at all. Do you know the history of the Halloween celebration, Mr. October?

It was not his favourite time period as the Victorian era was, but Hal was able to answer. Even if he couldn’t see the link at all.

- At first, it was a Celtic feast. Samain.

- The day when the veil separating the world of living from the world of dead is the thinnest. The day when those worlds communicate. The day that the demimonde, the world living between those two, celebrates. And what are we, we creatures of fiction, if not things that are either living, nor really dead?