Anansi Boys (American Gods, #2)

by Neil Gaiman

THERE ARE MYTH-PLACES. THEY EXIST, EACH IN THEIR own way. Some of them are overlaid on the world; others exist beneath the world as it is, like an underpainting. There are mountains. They are the rocky places you will reach before you come to the cliffs that border the end of the world, and there are caves in those mountains, deep caves that were inhabited long before the first men walked the earth. They are inhabited still.

“You’re no help,” he told the lime. This was unfair. It was only a lime; there was nothing special about it at all. It was doing the best it could.