he said. “You’re having a laugh.”
“What’s so difficult to believe?” Pestilence asked. “I mean, we’re the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—”
“Three Horsemen,” Drake said firmly. “You’re the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse, plus me.”
“Well, whatever,” said Pestilence, waving a gloved hand. “The point is, we’re living proof that it’s all true.”
“Or you’re three lunatics living in a shed in la-la land,” Drake said.
“Three lunatics with a flying horse,” War said gruffly. “It didn’t fly, it galloped,” Drake reminded him, although he had to admit the horse going airborne was a difficult one to explain away. “And what about those metal ball things? Don’t tell me they were from the Bible too.”
War shifted in his seat. “No, they weren’t. We’re still looking into that one.”
“Looking into it? They nearly killed me!”
“Aye, nearly. But they didn’t, thanks to me. A wee bit of gratitude wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Thank you?” Drake spluttered.
War nodded. “Don’t mention it.”
There was a crunching sound to Drake’s right. He turned to find Famine cramming popcorn into his mouth with butter-soaked fingers. “Don’t mind me,” Famine said, spilling a mouthful of half-chewed kernels down his front. “Carry on. It’s entertaining, this.”
Drake looked away as Famine began scooping the popcorn mush from his stained tracksuit top and licking it from his fingertips.
“Forget the balls for a minute,” War said. “Think about the bigger picture. Heaven. Hell. It’s all real.”
“And not just Heaven and Hell, neither,” Pestilence said. “It’s all about belief, see?”
“Don’t confuse him,” War said. “Let him get his head round one thing at a time.”
“No, tell me it all,” Drake insisted. “I want to know.” Pestilence’s eyes darted in War’s direction. Eventually, War gave a shrug. “Right, fire on.”
“OK, well, you know parallel dimensions?” Pestilence began enthusiastically. “The idea that there are these other realities running alongside this one, sort of the same, but a bit different?”
“Like, alternate universes and stuff?” Drake asked. “Yes, exactly!” Pestilence clapped. “Well, it’s all complete nonsense. There’s only this universe.”
“Oh,” said Drake. “Then why are you telling me?”
“Because there’s only this universe, but there are many afterlives. There are no parallel Earths, but there are parallel afterlives.”
“I don’t follow.”
“There’s Heaven and Hell, obviously,” Pestilence continued, “you know about them. But there’s also Valhalla, afterlife of the Vikings; the Greeks had Hades and the River Styx and all that... Which reminds me, Mount Olympus, where the Greek Gods live – you will love it! Trust me.” Pestilence pressed a hand to his chest, as if clutching at his heart. “It’s gorgeous. Do you like wrestling? If you like wrestling, then—”
“No, I don’t like wrestling,” Drake interjected. “Can we crack on?”
“Right, sorry,” Pestilence said breathlessly. “Well, let’s see, there’s Yaxche, the cosmic tree of contentment where Mayans believed they would spend all eternity relaxing in the sun. There’s Adlivun, the undersea domain of Sedna, the She-Cannibal.”
“Sedna the She-Cannibal?”
“Oh yeah, she imprisons the souls of the wicked, apparently,” Pestilence shrugged. “We’ve never met her, but by all accounts she’s a right cow.” He looked to the others for help. “Who believes in her again?”
“What do you call ’em?” slobbered Famine. “The ice ones.”
“Polar bears?” Drake guessed.
“Inuit,” War grunted.
“That’s the one,” Pestilence said. “The Inuit people believe in Sedna, and other people believe in other things,” he continued, “and here’s the thing: they’re all right. All of them. All those things exist, and they exist because enough people believe – or believed – that they exist. It’s like they say, ‘Faith can make mountains’.”
A hazy, half-remembered Sunday School lesson raised its hand at the back of Drake’s mind. “I thought it was move mountains?”
“Bad translation,” War grunted. “You can’t move a mountain, I don’t care how much faith you’ve got. Once you stick a mountain down, it’s going nowhere.” He glanced briefly at Pestilence. “You might as well tell him the rest.”
Pestilence gave a cough and cleared his throat again. He smiled self-consciously, and Drake saw a red rash spread up the horseman’s neck. It was either embarrassment or psoriasis, Drake couldn’t tell which.
“Faith can make... other things too,” Pestilence began. “If enough people believe in something, then, sooner or later, it’ll turn up.”
Drake wasn’t following. “Like what?”
“Well,” Pestilence said, giving the word two syllables, “you’ve probably heard of the Tooth Fairy.”
Drake blinked. He looked across the faces of the three men, expecting to see them trying to contain their laughter. Instead, their expressions were deadly serious.
“There’s not a Tooth Fairy.”
“Yes, there is,” Pestilence said.
“No, there isn’t,” Drake insisted. He looked at War. The giant nodded his