What the Dead Know (Into Shadow, #4)

by Nghi Vo

“Water women,” Vasyl said. “They have them here too.” “They have them everywhere,” Maryse said absently, looking for others. “There’s never a shortage of unlucky girls who end up in the water.” “What a grim thing.”

“How lucky we are, then, to know what the dead say.” They didn’t, of course they didn’t, but it was a living, and thus better than a dying, as Vasyl would say when he was drunk.

Strong storms and angry rivers. This part of the country wouldn’t love them, and while she was usually fine with that, now it made her shiver.

Maryse’s skin crawled at being so close to this dead woman, because she was dead, had been dead, would always be dead, and oh, how she smiled.

Maryse had finally learned, after five years as a medium, what the dead spoke of. Hate. Pain. Cold. Dead. Always dead. Dead forever.