Skulduggery Pleasant_ Death Bringer - Derek Landy [52]
Kenny frowned. “You’re talking about Paul Lynch?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is.”
“He was a homeless man. He said he had visions of the apocalypse.”
“Which one?”
“Sorry?”
“Which apocalypse? There are a few.”
“Uh… there was one where these old gods came back…”
“The Faceless Ones, yes. What about the Remnants? Did he foresee that? Last Christmas?”
“The Insanity Virus thing? With all those slices of darkness? They’re called Remnants?”
“Don’t worry about them, they’re all locked away, safe and sound. Did he foresee the Death Bringer?”
“Who’s the Death Bringer?”
“The Death Bringer’s the one who is going to initiate the Passage.”
Kenny took out his notebook, started scribbling. “Death Bringer. One word or two?”
“Either. I’ve always preferred two. What about Darquesse?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.”
“He didn’t foresee Darquesse? Oh that’s interesting.” Geoffrey sat back, finger tapping the beads in his beard.
“After every apocalypse passed without actually happening,” Kenny said, “he’d get a new set of visions.”
“Ah, well, that explains it. He foresaw them one at a time. As each one was averted he’d see the next one. It’s a pity he didn’t see Darquesse, we’ve been trying to find out more about her.”
“So it’s all real?” Kenny asked. “All of it? The visions, the gods, the superheroes?”
Geoffrey chuckled. “Superheroes? They’re not superheroes, Mr Journalist. They’re sorcerers.”
“Sorcerers, like… with magic?”
“Like with magic, yes.”
“So, the tall man and the teenage girl… they’re sorcerers too?”
“Oh,” Geoffrey said, smiling. “You mean Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain. Those two, they’re the good guys. We’re all alive today because of them.”
“They saved the world?”
“They’ve saved the world a few times, indeed they have.”
“This is amazing.”
“Yes, it is. You don’t believe any of it, though.”
Kenny smiled, and shrugged. “Well, I’m, I suppose I’m sceptical, but if you believe it, there must be something to it, right?”
“But I’m a crackpot,” Geoffrey said, smiling broadly. “Finbar’s a crackpot. Everyone you’ve spoken to about this is a crackpot. You can see that, can’t you?”
Kenny frowned. “You’re all nuts?”
“Sadly, yes. You’re going to go home today and you’re going to look at all your notes and research and you’re going to realise that it’s all just nonsense.”
“Nonsense?”
“To be honest, you’ll be happy. You were never really interested in this stuff in the first place. The fact is, you found it kind of boring.”
Kenny nodded. “It’s pretty dull, all right.”
“The idea of people with strange powers is just ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“It is, actually. It belongs in a comic book.”
“That’s exactly where it belongs.”
“I’ve been wasting my time,” Kenny said. “God, I’ve just been wasting my time…”
Geoffrey nodded, and didn’t disagree.
Kenny gave him a smile. “Listen, hey, sorry for being such a bother,” he said. “I really have to go, actually. I’ve got a story due tomorrow, and I need to work on it.”
“Of course,” Geoffrey said. “Don’t let me delay you.”
Kenny shook his hand and got up, started walking. He put his notebook away, glanced back to make sure Geoffrey wasn’t wandering after him. The last thing he needed was a crackpot like that following him home.
When he got back to his apartment, Kenny started packing all that nonsense away. He couldn’t believe he had wasted so much of his time on this, couldn’t believe he had actually got excited about the possibilities. What possibilities? A group of nutcases who all subscribed to the same delusion? He would have burnt everything, shoved it in the bin, but that wasn’t his way. He never discarded his notes – not until the article was done. Everything was useful. He might not write a world-shattering exposé on a secret subculture of superheroes, but he could use what he’d learned if he was ever tasked to write about the homeless in Dublin, or the plight of the psychologically disturbed. Nothing, he knew, was ever wasted. Not really.
He flicked through his notes. The Remnants. Darquesse. The Death Bringer