Finbar’s laugh was delayed by a split second. “Not me, mate. But there’s a Mystic Meg up the street there, she does a bit of tarot, that sort of thing. She’s good, you know, if you believe in it.”

“I don’t want my palm read. You see the future.”

“Who’s been filling your head with this nonsense?”

“It’s the word on the street.”

“And what street would that be? No, not me. Sorry.”

“What do you know of the Passage?”

Finbar didn’t move away. He stood there, his tongue pressed against his lip ring. “Who did you say you were?”

“My name’s Kenny Dunne. I’m a journalist.”

“And why would a journalist be asking about stupid things like the Passage?”

“So you do know about it.”

“Don’t know anything that could help you, sorry. You’d probably better go.”

“I can pay.”

“Then you have more money than sense, mate. Keep it, spend it on something worthwhile. Like a taxi.”

“They say you’re a psychic who saw something so horrible that you haven’t been able to see any visions since.”

“In that case I wouldn’t be any help to you, would I? But you don’t know what you’re talking about, and I haven’t a clue where you’re coming up with this stuff. I’m a busy man. I need you to leave.”

Kenny indicated the empty room. “This is busy?”

“Tuesday takes a while to get going.”

“Finbar, you know what’s going on, don’t you? I’ve been hearing about the end of the world, ancient gods, super powers, strange people who can do amazing things… I’m pretty sure I’ve even met some of them. A tall man in a suit. A dark-haired girl. You know these people?”

“They don’t ring any bells.”

“I’m going to find out, sooner or later. You can help make sure I get the facts right.”

“I don’t know any facts.”

“Come on. I know you’re not a stupid man.”

“I’m quite stupid. Ask anyone.”

“Finbar, are there superheroes living among us?”

Finbar snorted with laughter, and Kenny started to feel a little thick. “Superheroes? In tights and capes, flying around? If there were superheroes, Mr Journalist, don’t you think they’d be in New York or somewhere like that? There’s really not that many tall buildings for Spider-Man to swing from in Dublin, you know? He’d have maybe two swings and then he’d just hang there looking disappointed.”

“These people don’t wear tights and capes, Finbar.”

“So they’re naked superheroes? That’s grand for now, but when the good weather is over they’re going to regret it.”

“They look like us. They dress like us. But they’re not like us. They’re different.”

“You,” Finbar said, “are sounding very racist right now.”