Американские боги

           Hefeltlikecrap,ineverywayhecouldfeellikecrap.Hedidn’tfeellikeaherooradetectiveanymore—justanotherfuckingsell-out,wavingasternfingeratthedarknessbeforeturninghisbackonit.

           "Youwanttoknowasecret?"askedHinzelmann.

           "Sure,"saidShadow,withaheavyheart.Hewasreadytobedonewithsecrets.

           "Watchthis."

           WhereHinzelmannhadbeenstandingstoodamalechild,nomorethanfiveyearsold.Hishairwasdarkbrown,andlong.Hewasperfectlynaked,saveforawornleatherbandaroundhisneck.Hewaspiercedwithtwoswords,oneofthemgoingthroughhischest,theotherenteringathisshoulder,withthepointcomingoutbeneaththeribcage.Bloodflowedthroughthewoundswithoutstoppingandrandownthechild’sbodytopoolandpuddleonthefloor.Theswordslookedunimaginablyold.

           ThelittleboystaredupatShadowwitheyesthatheldonlypain.

           AndShadowthoughttohimself,Ofcourse.That’sasgoodawayasanyotherofmakingatribalgod.Hedidnothavetobetold.Heknew.

           Youtakeababyandyoubringitupinthedarkness,lettingitseenoone,touchnoone,andyoufeeditwellastheyearspass,feeditbetterthananyofthevillage’sotherchildren,andthen,fivewinterson,whenthenightisatitslongest,youdragtheterrifiedchildoutofitshutandintothecircleofbonfires,andyoupierceitwithbladesofironandofbronze.