Andrez said, "What? Whose name?"

"Bull had a dream last night-"

"That's neither here nor there." He turned to Alice, taking the pistols from her. "You get Reuben?"

"I called the field shop. One of his boys answered. I told him to get that boat ready for you. Gas. Everything."

He looked at the Andrez. "Are you coming with us?"

"Of course." Andrez pushed away from the desk and stood up. "I'm ready."

"Sarah, go change your clothes. We can't do this with you in your night gown. Put on good shoes. And I can use that time finding a flashlight." He turned to Alice. "Get a bag. Something sturdy. Put some water, a towel or bandages in it. Some booze. Any extra ammo you have. And rain gear."

He looked back at Sarah.

"Girl, we have to hurry. Run, now. Run."

She ran, and Alice followed.

"Come on, Andrez. Let's go wait in the kitchen."

Minutes later, the women returned. Alice carried a small canvas duffle bag with two plastic ponchos, two flashlights, a bottle of brandy, a roll of hurricane tape, two towels wrapped in a plastic trash bag, and a few rolls of gauze.

Ingram looked up from where he inspected the pistols on the kitchen counter. "Sarah, you and Andrez get into the ponchos. I'll be fine."

He picked up one of the pistols and handed it to Sarah.

"This is a twenty-two magnum revolver. You've got six shots. If you need to use this, don't waste it on a gut shot or body shot. Only headshots will drop them."

He took the other pistol and tucked it into the front of his pants.

"I'd tell you to stay here, but I know you wouldn't have any of it."

"I'm going."

"So, let's go."

Chapter 21.

Since the moment she realized that Franny was missing, Sarah thought she was going mad.

Her thoughts careened around her head without any direction. Focusing for any time was painful. It was as if her mind was trying to distract her from the reality of situation, that her daughter was gone, ripped from her and in mortal peril.

But when Bull raised the sword her mind calmed down and she allowed herself to hope that Franny would be okay. The idea that they could be violating her daughter now, killing her, filled Sarah with a cold fury she hadn't felt since she'd slapped her mother. Looking at Ingram calmed the rage but didn't extinguish it.

She watched Ingram as they walked through the woods toward the river. His shirt was plastered to his skin and his back rippled with muscles, crisscrossed with a fine lattice-work of scars from the war visible even through the fabric.

I guess the Marines prepared him for this. I hope so.

As she had followed Ingram and Andrez out the door, Alice had stopped her.

"I'd go with you but-"

"Alice, you've got to stay with the children."

She nodded. "I got something for you." She removed a folded straight razor from her blouse-her bra, Sarah realized-and handed it to her.

"Put it where I had it. It's something you keep to yourself and pull out when you need it."

She hugged Alice, then kissed her on the cheek.

"I love you."

The other woman looked at her, tears welling in her eyes. "Get your girl, Sarah. Bring her back."

Sarah nodded, and dashed out the door to catch up with the men.

The day darkened. Inside the wood, the mud sucked at their feet, and branches scratched at their clothes, faces, eyes. Ingram moved in front of them, huge and predatory.

The brown waters of the Arkansas River swirled and whipped past them when they reached the shore. One of Reuben's boys sat at the rear of the boat, bailing the accumulated rain out of the back. The motor buzzed, idling in the current and sending a small stream of smoke curling away.

Ingram stopped at the rise looking down on the shore. He motioned for the field hand to come up. After the boat sat empty, Ingram led them down the steep bank, treacherous with mud.

Sarah smelled the scent of burning gasoline from the flat-bottom's motor. A seagull shrieked above them, plying the river's dark waters. Standing there on the rise above the men and the rushing current, she felt very small and frightened. Everything she'd learned in the past days came crashing in on her in a very personal, very small cataclysm. She began to shake with the cold and the pure futility of what they were about to attempt. On the river in the rain to hunt down a god.

Ingram stepped into the boat. It sank three inches with his weight. He turned, held out a hand for Andrez, who took it and hopped almost gracefully on the middle seat, setting the duffel bag containing the gear on the middle seat. Ingram turned and looked up the bank at Sarah. Water streamed down his head and onto his chest and back.

Sarah slipped down the bank and found a seat in the boat.

"Y'all get forward," Ingram yelled over the buzzing of the motor. "I weigh too damned much. Get on the front seat so the boat won't tilt."

Sarah realized that the prow of the little flat-bottom rose two or three feet from the river's surface. She swung a leg over the middle seat.

"Keep your bodies low! Flat-bottom's will tump real easy."

"Tump?" Andrez's voice cut through the buzz.

"Tip over. Into the fucking drink, professor! Get your ass up front."

They moved forward, dropping the prow a foot. Ingram moved from his crouch to the seat by the motor. He adjusted the outboard, twisted the throttle, and revved the engine. Behind him, the motor sent white plumes downriver, lingering in wisps on the surface. He looked at the tank in front of him. He reached forward and rocked it, causing gas to slosh inside. 20 GAL was stenciled in white paint on the side.

Ingram looked up.

"One of you is gonna have to untie us and shove off. Push us away from the shore! Not downstream!"

Andrez started to move but Sarah reached it before him. The boat tilted crazily, yawing back and forth.

"Goddamnit! Slow in these boats. Go slow! Keep your body down! Keep it low!"

Despite his words, Sarah noticed, he looked happy.

She untied the slimy rope from the deadwood.

The boat fell away from the Rheinhart property into the muddy river. Strange eddies and currents rippled beneath them, and for a moment, Sarah felt unbalanced and confused at the ever-shifting balance of the little boat. She sat down heavily. Ingram, twisting in his seat, flipped the outboard into gear and cranked the throttle. The boat lurched and veered into the middle of the river.

"Watch for logs! If one's under the surface and we hit it-"

The boat made its way back upstream, to the west. The wind rippled their hair, and the rain drops stung their skin, coming in sharp bites.

Ingram veered the boat back to the shore. They turned in front and looked at him quizzically. At a clear run of muddy beach, he cranked the throttle and rushed the flat-bottom up on the shore and cut the engine.

"What? Why are we stopping?"

"Wait a sec. We haven't thought this through." He wiped the water from his face, and Sarah realized how cold he must be. The rain pattered off of her poncho.

"Which way do we go? Upstream or down? The Hellion could be anywhere. And what do we do if they start singing? Go mad? Start ripping each other to shreds?"

Andrez said, "We could stuff our ears like Odysseus' men."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but stuff them with what?"

They looked at one another blankly.

Sarah said, "Mud? Clay from the shore?"

"I think," Andrez said, slowly, "that we know enough to prevent the worst. Never before, in the history of man, have three people gone against gods as informed as we are. They are powerful, yes. But they are not all powerful. And we are not helpless."

"And we don't have time for anything else but..."

"Faith."

For a moment, Sarah was confused, staring at the unbelieving priest. "Faith?" she asked.

"In ourselves. In me. In Bull. In you. We will do what it takes, yes?"

"Yes." It was all she could manage. It was true.

"So that leaves the direction," Ingram said. He put his hands on his knees and looked at the two in the front of the little boat.

"Bull, do you think," she said hesitantly, "you might want to say his name?"

Andrez looked at her.

"What do you mean, Sarah?"

"Bull had a dream last night. About Mithras."

Ingram shook his head. "Hell, no. I'm not gonna let him take me."

Andrez looked between the two.

"What exactly are we talking about here?"

"Bull had a dream of Mithras. He wants to possess Bull. What did he say to you?" She looked at the big man.

"He wants to inhabit me. The motherfucker."

Andrez's eyes went wide. "He asked to 'inhabit' you?"

Ingram nodded, scowling.

The priest laughed and said, "Gods don't ask, Bull. Most gods just take what they want."

"A big fuck-all it makes to me. I'm not gonna let him in."

"So what are we going to do?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

Sarah glanced at Andrez, then looked back to Ingram.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, yeah, he wants to inhabit me and I don't intend on letting him, but that don't mean he won't help us."

"It can't hurt to ask," Andrez said.

Before she knew what she was doing, Sarah stood, turned upstream, into the wind, and opened her arms. "Mithras!" Her voice came louder and shriller than she intended. She cleared her throat. "Mithras! My girl is gone and we need help. Please, give us some signs which way to go. We're just... mortals, and you're a god and we need help. It's your job to help! And if you can't... or won't... then what are you good for? Die. Or go away."

She turned, sat back down heavily on the seat, and buried her face in her hands.

Andrez murmured, "Not quite as I might have phrased it, but-"

Upstream, a huge flight of crows erupted from the trees lining the bank, took air, and like a black cloud, flew downriver, passing over the shored boat and cawing madly.

"Well, folks," Ingram said, "that pretty much cinches it, don't it?" He turned, crouched, then twisted around and yanked the cord on the outboard. It buzzed back to life.

"Push off!"

Sarah-needing to act and not think-hopped out of the boat, put her hands on the cold metal prow, and shoved as hard as she could. The boat hissed, sliding along the grit of the shore, and she took two steps in the water before she pulled herself back into the boat.