The Book of Lies

by Teri Terry

  “I can’t believe that she—”

  “She’s a witch.” Like I am, I add silently. “Like her grandmother, but Quinn is out of control. I don’t know how or why, but I’m certain she killed our father. And I might be next. Don’t ever leave me alone with her.” She can’t travel if she is always watched; I know no other way to stop her.

  “That can’t be true,” he says, but his face is a war between horror and disbelief. He doesn’t want to believe it, but he does. When I say the words, he has no choice.

  “Gran told us a few days ago that the real reason Quinn and I were separated is because Gran had a vision: that we were half good, half evil. Quinn was hidden away because she is dangerous. We have to watch her until we can get out of here when this storm clears.”

  “What about your gran? Is she safe?”

  “You’re right. We shouldn’t leave them alone together, either.” I stand. “Wait here. I’ll take over sitting with Gran. Keep an eye on Quinn, Zak.”

  “I still can’t believe any of this,” he says, though his face and his words contradict each other. “But I’ll do it.”

  Quinn

  The door opens, and Piper peeks in. “Any change?”

  Gran’s eyes are closed again, her breathing even. My head is whirling with what she told me.

  “No change. She’s still unconscious,” I lie.

  “Let me take a turn watching her for a while. You need to get out of those wet clothes.”

  I’m reluctant to leave Gran, but what was it she said? Go to the ruins—​then you’ll understand. The burning place is forbidden to me no longer, but it is not a place I want to go to.

  I stand slowly. “All right. Call if you need me.”

  “Of course.” Piper’s eyes are odd. She watches me cross the room, step out the door.

  I walk down the stairs, and Zak is waiting at the bottom. “How is she?” he asks.

  “Still unconscious,” I say—​lying again.

  He follows me into the front room. I open the door to the closet where I’d stuffed my things. “I’m freezing. I need to change into some dry clothes. Could you maybe make some tea?” I fake a coughing fit.

  “Of course. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “And some toast, please?” I say, trying to think of something that will take longer than a second. Has Piper told him to keep an eye on me? Or maybe it’s Zak who doesn’t trust me, a pain that twists inside.

  He dashes out of the room so fast that I’m sure of it.

  No time for a change of clothes. I wait seconds only, long enough for him to get to the kitchen, then I creep out into the hall and carefully, quietly, open the front door. Hoping the sound of the door is masked by the howling wind and rain, I shut it behind me.

  I want to think about this. I want to work out whether the desire to know is enough to make me go through whatever this will be. Most of all, I’m scared—​of the burning place, and of taking off Isobel’s bracelet, not knowing what will happen if I do.

  But there is no time for thinking, or talking myself out of it. Whether I want to do this or not, I’m certain that I must.

  Now is the time for doing. I’m shaking, with both fear and cold. Icy rain pours down, really more sleet than rain. I step forward. My numb fingers struggle with the clasp on the bracelet.

  It clicks open. The bracelet slips off my wrist and dangles in my hand, still half around my fingers. I force myself to shove it into my jeans pocket.

  And everything shifts. Changes. There is a murmuring in my mind, whispered voices I can’t quite make out. Something is urging me forward.

  I step over what was a wall, around to what is left of a fireplace.

  Yes, sighs a voice in my mind. It is time.

  I kneel down, the remains of the fireplace between me and the door. Hopefully it will block me from sight of the house when they realize I’m gone. The rain is freezing, but the ground under my knees is warm, and getting warmer. I reach out with my hands to clasp the stones . . .

  And collapse to the ground.

  I live it all. The chase on the moors.

  The book, the lies written there, lies that become true. The fire.

  The fear and pain are Aggie’s, and mine.

  And the anger.

  I see and feel each death.

  Aggie’s is first. And then she returns. She is the fox—​the black brush fox. She tempts her murderer and his hounds to chase her into Wistman’s Wood. They are the first to fall, to become trapped in the black woods—​to become part of the Wild Hunt.

  And the deaths of every other Hamley that follow. Hunted, chased. Throats ripped out, souls trapped as Wisht Hounds. Doomed to join the hunt whenever a descendant of Aggie demands it.

  Gran.

  Or Piper.

  Or me.

  I scream and scream. Open my eyes and wrench my hands away from the ruins. They’re red, raw red—​burned from the stones? I stagger to my feet, stare at my hands, and hold them out to the cold rain.

  Everything that happened since we came here was set in motion in Aggie’s book all those years ago. That is why the hunt has returned to Dartmoor. The Wisht Hounds have been released and hunted their prey: first the sheep, then those campers, and finally, our father. Our enemy. A Hamley.

  Was it Piper touching my hand to the tree that made this happen? Did I summon them, or did Piper?

  My stomach is twisting in horror. I was there. Was it me?

  And at last I understand about lies, about what they do—​why Gran warned me never to lie. Shaping belief by words is in our blood. If I lie, I am believed. Piper too. Is this why Zak always believes her? But write in the book, and lies go beyond changing the belief of those who listen—​they come true.

  I’m aware of a blur of motion, of voices, through the rain. Piper and Zak are coming toward me, calling my name.

  Rage rushes through my veins. Pain. Hate so black and deep it twists my soul. I stagger out of the ruin.

  “Quinn? What’s wrong?” Zak reaches out to me, but he looks scared. What has Piper been telling him? She lies to him, and he believes.

  Now she’s reached his side. There is a disgusting mark on her, a shadow. She’s one of them: she has Hamley blood in her veins.

  As do I. Do I have this shadow marking my skin? My stomach twists with self-loathing.

  Gran’s words from before penetrate my anger. You must put the bracelet back on after. It will protect you.

  I hesitate. Wearing the bracelet blocks spells. I’ve never seen the shadow on Piper before; was it blocked by the bracelet? Does that mean the shadow is a spell? I slip my hand into my pocket and put my fingers through the bracelet. The burn on my hands is instantly soothed.

  I look up, and the shadow on Piper is gone, too: both it and the burn must be spells.

  I hold the pendant in my hand, and Gran’s other words—​the dogs, Isobel, and Piper—​slam the truth home. I gasp, and let go of the bracelet.

  “You did it!” I reach for Piper, but she springs away.

  She laughs. “Did what?”

  “The dogs. You controlled the dogs—​you killed our mother!”

  Denial is on her face, a struggle deep inside, fear.

  “I wouldn’t do that!” Piper shouts. Her lie hangs in the air, dark and ugly, like the shadow that is back on her skin.

  I scream and lunge at her. Zak grabs me, holds me away from her. “This is crazy. Calm down, Quinn.”

  But this is what I wanted to happen. Zak must see the truth, and he can’t so long as he believes every word Piper says. I let myself relax, stop fighting to get away. Zak’s arms loosen. I move a little so he is blocking Piper’s view.

  And I slip the bracelet onto his wrist. He looks down at it, then at me.

  “Zak, listen to me: Piper can control dogs. Isobel was killed by dogs. Put it together!”

  Piper

  Zak turns, lets go of Quinn. He looks confused, dazed, as if he’s just woken up.

  “Pip
er?” he says. “Did you control the dogs that killed your mother?”

  I shake my head. “Of course not. Why would I do that?” My words echo inside my mind, but have no certainty behind them.

  “Do you even believe your own lies now?” Quinn says, and I shake my head again—​am I denying that I’m lying, or that I believe? “Remember what you did!” Quinn says.

  I try to push her words away, but they won’t leave me alone. Remember . . .

  I was so angry with Mum. She finally admitted I had a sister, a twin, but refused to take me to Quinn. I was furious to my core. We were walking Ness, and I ran off, leaving Ness with Mum. I went to a place I visited when I needed to get away—​the training place for guard dogs. I knew a way in through the back when it was closed. I guess with those dogs there they never worried too much about security.

  But the dogs didn’t soothe me this time. It was like they soaked up my anger—​and then ran away. I hadn’t latched the gate, and they jumped at it to push it open and were gone.

  I knew it was my fault they got out, so I never told anyone I’d been there.

  But the rest of it . . . ?

  Did my fury infect them, lead them to its cause? Did they rip her apart because in that moment of rage I wanted them to?

  No. Not Mum. “No! I didn’t do it! I couldn’t,” I say, denying it. Denying the truth.

  “She’s lying, Zak,” Quinn says. “Isobel wouldn’t help her find me, so she killed her. She was after me all along.”

  “And why would I be after you?” I face Quinn. It is finally there, in plain sight, marking her face—​the shadow I’d sensed and glimpsed for so long is making its ugly self plain on her skin. The Hamley blood oozing through her veins marks her for death. Quinn had said she’d help me, that she didn’t want to inherit. But it was lies, all of it; lies. Anger fills me.

  “You know why,” Quinn says. “You want our inheritance: the Book of Lies, the source of our family’s power. You needed me to find it.”

  “That’s crazy! I didn’t even know it existed until we got here.” I reach for Zak’s hand, but he pulls away.

  “Oh, really?” Quinn says. “Is that why you asked Gran what our inheritance was the first chance you got?”

  “Piper? Did you really do it?” Zak says. “Your mum and those guard dogs?”

  I turn to him, confused. “What has got into you?” My eyes shift, focus on his wrist. He’s wearing Mum’s bracelet? I frown, remembering: Aggie had saved a bracelet with the book. Is it this bracelet?

  I was never able to control Mum or Quinn—​is the bracelet the reason?

  But she’s not wearing it now. I smile.

  I stare at Quinn. “You know where the book is, don’t you? Tell me where it is, Quinn. Do it now.” I drip persuasion into the words.

  Quinn frowns, as if her head hurts. Then her face clears. “Don’t try that trick on me again.”

  “Don’t worry. If that one doesn’t work, I have other tricks we can try. Where is the book?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  There. She confirms what I suspected all along—​she wants the book for herself. She never meant to help me.

  She lied. And she will pay.

  Call the hunt.

  Against my sister? And Zak? I shake my head. No, I can’t, I can’t, I—​

  You must. You are stronger: prove it.

  I reach out with my mind to the desperation hidden in the wood. I feel the trapped souls; they are a part of me.

  Before, it was anger and dreams—​my unconscious wishes—​that made them hunt. This time, I call them knowing what I do. Come. Come to me, and hunt.

  “Piper?” Zak’s face is twisting with pain. “My mother. Her horse bolted at a dog; that’s why she fell and died. Did you make that happen?”

  “Of course not! It was an accident,” I say, and this time, I know it is true . . . sort of. There was that little dog, but I just wanted Zak’s mother to get hurt, so he’d come home.

  Zak’s eyes are staring at me, eyes I love—​I’d have done anything to have him with me.

  I did.

  “I didn’t mean for her to die! It was an accident.”

  Zak is shaking his head, stepping away—​stunned. But anger will follow.

  No. This isn’t how things are meant to be. No!

  “You’re a murderer!” Quinn screams in fury, and flies toward me. She swings a fist that I deflect with my arm. I stagger, pretend to fall, and pick up a stone from the ruins. It burns my hand. I smile and swing it hard at Quinn’s head.

  Zak jumps between us, and the stone hits him instead. He drops to his knees, blood dripping down his ear.

  I want to throw my arms around him, to take it back, but he’s not mine anymore. And it is Quinn’s doing. Rage flashes through me.

  She will pay.

  And Zak will be mine again, no matter what Quinn has done. With the hunt, Zak’s blood will be part of me.

  I lunge at Quinn, but then light flashes above us, and we both turn.

  Gran stands in her bedroom window. She must have pulled the hangings back. Light flickers behind her. She holds out her hands, and there, between them, is the Book of Lies.

  Quinn

  Piper runs for the house, and I spring after her. She mustn’t get the book.

  The door is open. Smoke: there is smoke coming through the door. I push into the house after Piper and cough. The flickering I saw behind Gran: is there a fire? Was the house struck by lightning in the storm? We’d have heard that; it couldn’t have been.

  What started in fire must end in fire: Gran’s words. Is this her doing?

  Piper is heading for the stairs. I throw myself at her, knock her off her feet. I jump up and get a foot on the stairs myself, but she is up again too and grabs my arm, pulls me back by the hair.

  Zak has followed us, unsteady on his feet. “Quinn, Piper—​you have to get out of here. The house is on fire. Get out!”

  Piper is closest to him now; he grabs her other arm, and she lets go of my hair. She turns and shoves Zak. He falls to the ground and struggles to get up, but then collapses and lies still.

  Ness barks, runs around our feet as if trying to herd us out of the house.

  “Forget it, Piper,” I say. “The book is mine. Not yours! It was always mine.”

  “You should have grabbed it years ago when you had the chance. It’s too late now, Quinn.”

  “You can’t inherit from our family—​I won’t let you. You killed Zak’s mother, and Isobel. Our mother.”

  This time, Piper doesn’t deny it. “And you. You’re next. No one knows you exist; no one will care.”

  And there it is, the ugly truth in her eyes: the real reason Piper made sure no one knew there were two of us. No one will look for me if no one knows I exist.

  Piper

  Quinn is coughing. The smoke is thicker; my eyes burn. I try to crawl up the stairs, but Quinn’s hands are a vise grip on my ankles.

  “Did you kill our father, too?” Quinn says.

  “That was you, wasn’t it, Quinn? You were there. You hunted him down with the Wisht Hounds; you lunged at his throat. You tasted the warm blood.”

  “No! I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

  “But you traveled along with the hounds and me. You hunted. The sheep, the tasty campers, then our dear father. You enjoyed it.”

  “No! I didn’t want to be there. Never. It was you who awakened the hunt. Please tell me it was you.”

  Quinn’s voice is anguished, and I laugh. “You’re too weak—​too soft to do what must be done. Of course it was me,” I say, owning what is mine. Why deny it? It is part of who I am. At my call, the Wisht Hounds are getting closer, even now.

  “But why did you kill our father?”

  “That filth. Couldn’t you see the shadow marking him? Like it marks you. Like it marks all Hamleys.”

  I stop trying to shake her off, turn, and see the dripping shadow that marks her skin.
<
br />   And attack.

  Quinn

  Piper swings a fist. It connects with my jaw, and I crumple to the floor. But not before I see the shadow on her that I saw before.

  She said I am marked? No! She is the one; she is the one who must die.

  I stagger to my feet and lunge for Piper—​reach for her throat. My fingers tighten; my thumbs push into her windpipe. She struggles, claws at my hands, but I’m not letting go.

  Her eyes shift focus.

  And then there is pain in my ankle.

  I look down; Ness’s teeth are digging into my ankle. I swing my other foot around to kick her, not letting go of Piper’s throat. She’s starting to weaken.

  Ness: the first dog I let get close to me, the puppy whose boundless energy and unconditional love have made me happy, whom I love in return. It isn’t my Ness doing this; somehow Piper has made her attack. I drop my foot, stopping myself just in time from kicking her, and let go of Piper. I pour love out of myself to Ness.

  Ness lets go of my ankle and looks up at me, scared, confused.

  And past her, lying on the floor, is Zak.

  Behind me, Piper is crawling up the stairs.

  I cough; the smoke is thicker. My head is spinning. I drop to the floor.

  This is the moment.

  This is the choice.

  The hate is a wave inside me that wants to wash me up the stairs—​to stop Piper, to have the book for myself. To end her life.

  But there is something else, something stronger: Zak.

  Piper

  When Quinn lets go of my throat, my lungs want air, badly. I can’t stop myself from gulping it in in a rush, but it makes me cough.

  I want to go after Quinn, but the book must come first. The hounds are nearly here; they’ll have Quinn and Zak soon enough.

  I must hurry, but the smoke is worse. I force my body to crawl up the stairs when I want to stand and run.