Our deal's over," said Charlie. "I brought your feather. I want my brother. You took him. I want him back. Anansi's bloodline was not mine to give."
"And if I no longer have your brother?"
It was hard to tell, in the firefly light, but Charlie did not believe that her lips had moved. Her words surrounded him, however, in the cries of nightjars, and in the owls' shrieks and hoots.
"I want my brother back," he told her. "I want him whole and in one piece and uninjured. And I want him now. Or whatever went on between you and my father over the years was just the prelude. You know. The overture.

Neil Gaiman