They shook their heads, and the waitress turned to greet another customer.
“There,” said Wednesday, “is one who ‘does not have the faith and will not have the fun,’ Chesterton. Pagan indeed. So. Shall we go out onto the street, Easter my dear, and repeat the exercise? Find out how many passersby know that their Easter festival takes its name from Eostre of the Dawn? Let’s see—I have it. We shall ask a hundred people. For every one that knows the truth, you may cut off one of my fingers, and when I run out of them, toes; for every twenty who don’t know, you spend a night making love to me. And the odds are certainly in your favor here—this is San Francisco, after all. There are heathens and pagans and Wiccans aplenty on these precipitous streets.”
Her green eyes looked at Wednesday. They were, Shadow decided, the exact same color as a leaf in spring with the sun shining through it. She said nothing.
“We could try it,” continued Wednesday. “But I would end up with ten fingers, ten toes, and five nights in your bed. So don’t tell me they worship you and keep your festival day. They mouth your name, but it has no meaning to them. Nothing at all.”
Tears stood out in her eyes. “I know that,” she said, quietly. “I’m not a fool.”
“No,” said Wednesday. “You’re not.”
He’s pushed her too far, thought Shadow.
Wednesday looked down, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he said. Shadow could hear the real sincerity in his voice. “We need you. We need your energy. We need your power. Will you fight beside us when the storm comes?”
She hesitated. She had a chain of blue forget-me-nots tattooed around her left wrist.
“Yes,” she said, after a while. “I guess I will.”
I guess it’s true what they say, thought Shadow. If you can fake sincerity, you’ve got it made. Then he felt guilty for thinking it.
Wednesday kissed his finger, touched it to Easter’s cheek. He called their waitress over and paid for their coffees, counting out the money carefully, folding it over with the check and presenting it to her.
As she walked away, Shadow said, “Ma’am? Excuse me? I think you dropped this.” He picked up a ten-dollar bill from the floor.
“No,” she said, looking at the wrapped bills in her hand.
“I saw it fall, ma’am,” said Shadow, politely. “You should count them.”
She counted the money in her hand, looked puzzled, and said, “Jesus. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She took the ten-dollar bill from Shadow, and walked away.
Easter walked out onto the sidewalk with them. The light was just starting to fade. She nodded to Wednesday, then she touched Shadow’s hand and said, “What did you dream about, last night?”
“Thunderbirds,” he said. “A mountain of skulls.”
She nodded. “And do you know whose skulls they were?”
“There was a voice,” he said. “In my dream. It told me.”
She nodded and waited.
He said, “It said they were mine. Old skulls of mine. Thousands and thousands of them.”
She looked at Wednesday, and said, “I think this one’s a keeper.” She smiled her bright smile. Then she patted Shadow’s arm and walked away down the sidewalk. He watched her go, trying—and failing—not to think of her thighs rubbing together as she walked.
In the taxi on the way to the airport, Wednesday turned to Shadow. “What the hell was that business with the ten dollars about?”
“You shortchanged her. It comes out of her wages if she’s short.”
“What the hell do you care?” Wednesday seemed genuinely irate.
Shadow thought for a moment. Then he said, “Well, I wouldn’t want anyone to do it to me. She hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“No?” Wednesday stared off into the middle distance, and said, “When she was seven years old she shut a kitten in a closet. She listened to it mew for several days. When it ceased to mew, she took it out of the closet, put it into a shoebox, and buried it in the backyard. She wanted to bury something. She consistently steals from everywhere she works. Small amounts, usually. Last year she visited her grandmother in the nursing home to which the old woman is confined. She took an antique gold watch from her grandmother’s bedside table, and then went prowling through several of the other rooms, stealing small quantities of money and personal effects from the twilight folk in their golden years. When she got home she did not know what to do with her spoils, scared someone would come after her, so she threw everything away except the cash.”
“I get the idea,” said Shadow.
“She also has asymptomatic gonorrhea,” said Wednesday. “She suspects she might be infected but does nothing about it. When her last boyfriend accused her of having given him a disease she was hurt, offended, and refused to see him again.”