than anywhere. It is a no-man’s land, a place of truce, and we observe our truces, here. We have no choice. So. You give us the body of our friend. We accept it. You will pay for this, murder for murder, blood for blood.”
Town said, “Whatever. You could save yourselves a lot of time and effort by going back to your homes and shooting yourselves in the heads. Cut out the middleman.”
“Fuck you,” said Czernobog. “Fuck you and fuck your mother and fuck the fucking horse you fucking rode in on. You will not even die in battle. No warrior will taste your blood. No one alive will take your life. You will die a soft, poor death. You will die with a kiss on your lips and a lie in your heart.”
“Leave it, old man,” said Town.
“The blood-dimmed tide is loose,” said the fat kid. “I think that comes next.”
The wind howled.
“Okay,” said Loki. “He’s yours. We’re done. Take the old bastard away.”
He made a gesture with his fingers, and Town, Media and the fat kid left the room. He smiled at Shadow. “Call no man happy, huh, kid?” he said. And then he, too, walked away.
“What happens now?” asked Shadow.
“Now we wrap him up,” said Anansi. “And we take him away from here.”
They wrapped the body in the motel sheets, wrapped it well in its impromptu shroud, so there was no body to be seen, and they could carry it. The two old men walked to each end of the body, but Shadow said, “Let me see something,” and he bent his knees and slipped his arms around the white-sheeted figure, pushed him up and over his shoulder. He straightened his knees, until he was standing, more or less easily. “Okay,” he said. “I’ve got him. Let’s put him into the back of the car.”
Czernobog looked as if he were about to argue, but he closed his mouth. He spat on his forefinger and thumb and began to snuff the candles between his fingertips. Shadow could hear them fizz as he walked from the darkening room.
Wednesday was heavy, but Shadow could cope, if he walked steadily. He had no choice. Wednesday’s words were in his head with every step he took along the corridor, and he could taste the sour-sweetness of mead in the back of his throat. You work for me. You protect me. You help me. You transport me from place to place. You investigate, from time to time—go places and ask questions for me. You run errands. In an emergency, but only in an emergency, you hurt people who need to be hurt. In the unlikely event of my death, you will hold my vigil…
A deal was a deal, and this one was in his blood and in his bones.
Mr. Nancy opened the motel lobby door for him, then hurried over and opened the back of the bus. The other four were already standing by their Humvee, watching them as if they could not wait to be off. Loki had put his driver’s cap back on. The cold wind whipped at the sheets, tugged at Shadow as he walked.
He placed Wednesday down as gently as he could in the back of the bus.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. Town stood there with his hand out. He was holding something.
“Here,” said Mr. Town, “Mister World wanted you to have this.” It was a glass eye. There was a hairline crack down the middle of it, and a tiny chip gone from the front. “We found it in the Masonic hall, when we were cleaning up. Keep it for luck. God knows you’ll need it.”
Shadow closed his hand around the eye. He wished he could come back with something smart and sharp and clever, but Town was already back at the Humvee, and climbing up into the car; and Shadow still couldn’t think of anything clever to say.
Czernobog was the last person out of the motel. As he locked the building he watched the Humvee pull out of the park and head off down the blacktop. He put the key to the motel beneath a rock by the lobby door, and he shook his head. “I should have eaten his heart,” he said to Shadow, conversationally. “Not just cursed his death. He needs to be taught respect.” He climbed into the back of the bus.
“You ride shotgun,” said Mr. Nancy to Shadow. “I’ll drive a while.”
He drove east.
Dawn found them in Prince ton, Missouri. Shadow