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“Fuck off, Ross,” Matt growls, the sound like nails. “And if not, shut your mouth.”
“A double ax,” I whisper. “Like the one on my back.”
“She’s not dead!” Ross bowls into me, so suddenly I don’t have time to prepare, and knocks me sideways.
We both crash into the water, his hands around my neck, my sisters’ cries of dismay ringing in my ears. “You’re making this up. She’s not dead.”
“I’m not making this up. Fuck you, Ross.” I try to pry his hands from my neck, try to breathe.
He lets go but shoves me back, and I go under.
Spluttering, I surface, to find everyone wading into the stream. “Guys, stay the hell out of this.”
“You’re talking bull,” Ross is saying, shoving me back into the water again. I splash around, wipe muddy water off my face, and more memories hit me.
I’d fallen into the water, I’d slipped. There was a tree right at the water edge, and I dragged myself there. Someone—a man—was stomping through the woods. He was dragging the body behind him.
“He dragged the body into the woods.” I turn to look at the trees. “That way, I think.”
“Motherfucker, shut your trap!” Ross yells at me. “Shut it. Enough!”
I shove at him when he makes another grab for me. “Get off me.” I throw a punch at him and it connects with his shoulder. “Fuck off.” We shove at each other. “You don’t have t
o listen to me. You don’t wanna be here, leave.”
He falls back, then gets up again. “You don’t know it was her.”
“Damn right, I don’t know that.” We grapple in the water, feet slipping on the mud and slim of the bottom. “I never said it was her. You’re the one who said she wore that swan pendant.”
“You called me to talk to me about silver swans and bodies.”
“I was stoned off my ass.”
“You dreamed it.” He grabs me in a headlock. I kick at his shins. He grunts and lets go, then we’re again grabbing at each other, until we’re locked in a wrestling twister, water churning. It’s good to move, to hit something solid, something not woven of goddamn dream threads.
Kicking and punching, we finally slip and fall back into the stream, going under. Ross’s weight is pressing me down, and I swallow water as I try to push him off me.
Then he’s off me and I sit up, coughing.
“Son of a bitch.” Matt is hauling a drenched Ross away. “What the hell is wrong with you two? This isn’t what we came here for. Waste of my time…”
“She’s not dead,” Ross is saying over and over. “She’s not dead.”
Fuck.
Jarett grabs me under the armpits and hauls me up. “Come on, man, let’s get out of the water. It’s fucking cold.”
Now that he says it, I can feel the ice seeping into my bones. My teeth are chattering.
“I’m gonna drive the pickup as close as it can get,” Matt says, and Octavia slips her hand into his. “We’ll be right back.”
Ross is standing in the mud as Jarett drags me back out of the stream, dripping and muttering.
“Show me,” he says at last more clearly.
“What?” Cos comes to take my hands and starts chuffing them to get some warmth in them. “Show you what?”
“Where he took her.”
