Where the Truth Lives

  Mia Sheridan

  Where the Truth Lives

  Copyright © 2020 by Mia Sheridan.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Permission by the author must be granted before any part of this book can be used for advertising purposes. This includes the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To the healers.

  PROLOGUE

  A crash echoed through the small house, followed by a curse. The front door down the hall slammed. Liza scooted closer to her sister, pulling the threadbare blankets all the way to their noses, hardly daring to breathe.

  She heard the refrigerator door open, the rustle of the plastic bag she’d used to cover the leftover food, and then another curse as something landed on the floor.

  “He’s drunk,” Mady whispered, voicing what Liza suspected, but didn’t want to let herself believe. Cold dread settled in her stomach, far colder than the frigid air of the house that their father didn’t allow them to heat when he was gone. Please just let him pass out on the couch or in his bed. Please.

  “Shh,” Liza said, trying to soothe her younger sister, even while panic sluiced through her veins. She ran a hand over her sister’s wispy, white-blonde hair. “Just pretend you’re sleeping. Everything will be okay.” I’ll keep you safe.

  Liza felt her sister’s shoulders shake but didn’t dare pull her closer. His steps were already approaching, an uneven clop-slide as he lurched down the wood floor of the hallway. He laughed, a greasy sound that made the fear inside her belly rise to her throat. She swallowed it down. Please God, please God.

  Only God had never made time for Liza before, and she didn’t really expect Him to now.

  Their door creaked open and Liza squeezed her sister’s hand under the covers, her heart pounding, eyes shut tight.

  “Who left the goddamned shoes by the door for me to trip over?” he yelled. “And what the fuck is that sludge you left for me to eat?” She heard him spit on the floor.

  Liza opened her eyes, meeting her sister’s gaze in the darkened room. The slice of moonlight glimmering through the curtain allowed Liza to see the stark fear in Mady’s eyes. Her lip trembled.

  Liza shook with fear too, but a faraway resignation crept closer, like a thief in the night, there to steal any unlikely notion that this could end well. It wouldn’t. The most she could do now was survive it . . . and keep him away from Mady.

  Not that he wanted much to do with Mady anyway. His disabled daughter. Damaged. Unwanted by anyone other than Liza.

  But sometimes Liza let herself dream. And when she did, she dreamed of taking her sister far, far away, somewhere safe, somewhere where the devil—their father—would never find them. She’d buy Mady the wheelchair her father refused to pay for, opting instead to use his money on liquor and gambling, and she’d make sure they were safe.

  But for right then, that misty dream was very far away. Reality was a heartless drunk who would take out his rage at life on her.

  “Answer me, or I’ll shake it out of the both of you! You think a man wants to come home to a goddamned pigsty and a plateful of slop?”

  Liza turned, sat up. “I did. I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. There were no shoes by the door. If he’d tripped, he’d tripped over his own two feet. And she’d done the best she could with the small amount of money he’d left for her to buy groceries with that week. But that wouldn’t matter. It never did.

  “Daddy, please,” Mady said, her voice a quiet croak.

  “What’d you say, you useless piece of garbage?” His dark form, backlit by the hall light, tipped and took a small stumble, his hand reaching out for the doorframe to hold himself steady. “Lying there all day like a piece of trash eating my food and using up my hot water,” he hissed.

  Liza’s heart lurched. She pushed the blankets aside, standing quickly. “I’ll go clean up the shoes, make you something hot to eat,” she said, her words tumbling out. Lead him away from Mady. Away, away.

  She scooted under the arm he was using to hold himself up and prayed he’d follow. An exhale ghosted from her mouth when she heard the sound of his footsteps as he stumbled along behind her. She’d distracted the monster. But now she’d have to deal with him herself.

  A blackness filled her. A loneliness so deep and bottomless that she both feared and hoped she’d drown in it. Suffocate. Disappear beneath its fathomless depths.

  What was left of the dinner she’d made for herself, Mady, and her older brother, Julian, a pitiful concoction of frozen vegetables, cream of mushroom soup, and a piece of sausage, lay splattered across the peeled and dingy linoleum. The meal had only been half-edible, but she’d been happy the electricity was on so she could use the stove. It wasn’t always.

  She stepped over the mess and opened the refrigerator. A half can of beans, a jar of mayonnaise all but scraped clean, three carrots, a potato, and a carton of milk that held just enough to make Mady and herself a bowl of cereal before school in the morning.

  “I could, ah, bake you a potato,” she said. Why did she feel so ashamed? Why was her mind swimming with it? She hadn’t set up this life. He had. So why did she carry the shame while he blamed her? It was all backward, wasn’t it?

  “I don’t want a goddamned potato. Stupid girl. You can’t even buy groceries with the money I give you to make a decent meal.” He teetered slightly, stepping in the mess on the floor as he advanced on her. The slap came quickly, like a viper striking, despite the unsteadiness of his drunken stagger.

  Although the slap was sudden, it did not come as a surprise. She knew it was leading there. It always led there.

  Before she could react, he grabbed her by her arm, twisting so she cried out in pain. She slipped in the congealed mess on the floor, her feet coming out from under her as he hauled her up, squeezing her arm and careening
down the hall with her. How is he so strong? He can barely walk, and yet he’s so strong.

  She heard Mady sob softly from the room they shared as he dragged her past that door. She expected him to turn right into his bedroom, but he kept on going, toward the back door.

  Oh God, no. No. “No,” she said, hot tears coursing down her cheeks, renewing the fight in her. “Please, no. Dad, no, not the cellar. Please.” She tried to turn toward his room instead, the lesser of two horrors, but he pulled her onward.

  A door opened and Julian stood there, watching. He wore no expression, but there was hatred in his eyes. Save me, she wanted to beg. But Julian never did a thing. He would not help her now, and she would not ask. Another slap. Her head spun away, arm shrieking in pain as her father pulled her through the door into the cold February night.

  “Your mother was a whore, a whore who left me with three useless mouths to feed, one more useless than the next,” he muttered. “I shoulda drowned you all at birth. Put you in a sack and weighed it down, thrown you in the river. Plop, plop, plop.”

  Liza wished he had.

  His laughter cut the night, sliced her in places deep inside. The door of the cellar creaked as he threw it open, the musty smell that haunted her nightmares punching outward. She tried to turn back, but he shoved her so she lost her footing, tripping, and grasping blindly for the railing. Her hand clamped over it and she barely kept from tumbling forward. Her father followed, pushing her again and she did trip then, missing the final few steps and landing in the hard-packed dirt below. Blinding pain shot up her arm and she whimpered, tiny white dots filling her vision, though it was almost completely dark, the only dim light shining in from the open door above.

  There was a soft skittering behind her and she pulled herself into a ball, sobbing openly now. He was going to leave her here, in the pitch-black. Alone. As she slowly lost her mind.

  Her throat filled with vomit. Above her, his eyes were black holes. Empty sockets. Dead eyes.

  The eyes of a monster. A beast. A demon.

  Something moved behind him, the moon shifting in the sky, blotting out the starlight. Only . . . no, it was a human form, and it was moving down the stairs.

  Shock reverberated through Liza.

  Her father looked back. He laughed. “What? You want a turn, boy?”

  Her brother didn’t say a word. Her father’s body spun very suddenly, her brother’s forearm wrapping around his chest, his other hand moving in a quick sideways arc. Something hot splashed across Liza’s face. It happened so fast, she couldn’t make sense of what it was.

  “Julian?” she choked. Something thick and wet slid down her cheek as the metallic smell of copper filled her nose. Blood. Bile surged to the back of her throat again. Oh God, blood. Blood. Her father’s body crumpled to the ground. Liza let out a terrified sob, scrambling to her feet as fast as she could while cradling her injured arm. Julian moved toward her slowly, the knife in his hand glinting dimly in the meager pool of moonlight. Liza looked behind her, her heart thundering in her ears, the only escape going farther into the bowels of hell.

  “Please, please, no,” she whimpered, backing up slowly, terror and confusion zigzagging through her. Her foot crunched on something, horrible visions rising in her mind. Bones. Teeth. The leftover meals of gruesome creatures that lurked in the blackness beyond. She couldn’t move.

  She couldn’t move.

  Julian stepped right up to her and with silent sobs wracking her chest, she gazed up at him. The muted light of the stars filtered in behind him, his eyes as black and empty as her father’s had been. He spun her around and she felt a white-hot slice of pain move across her throat. She reached up, gripping her neck with her hands, warm, slippery blood coating her skin. She sank to her knees. No, no, she thought wildly.

  I can’t die . . . I need to get to Mady!

  She tried to scream her sister’s name, but the sound that emerged was a soft wet gargle. She toppled to the ground.

  The world began to fade. Julian turned and left her there.

  **********

  Warmth. Light.

  Liza’s eyes cracked open. She drew in a wet, rattled breath. Where am I?

  She felt so . . . she felt so weak. And then the smells hit her . . . dirt and mustiness. Blood. Something dank and undeniably human.

  With great effort, she pulled herself to a sitting position, her head swimming, warm blood still trickling down her throat and pooling between her breasts. Oh God, it hurts. It hurts. Her gaze landed on the crumpled heap near her feet. Her father, eyes closed, a dark gash across his throat, blood thick on the dirt next to his head. He stunk. She could smell him. He’d shit himself.

  She tried desperately to organize her spinning thoughts.

  Julian. Julian had slit her father’s throat. Hers. Here. In hell. Terror rose and she looked behind her. The light filtered in, grew dim and then faded completely in the deep recesses of the cellar. They were hiding there. In the shadows. She could feel them.

  Her head swam as she struggled to draw in a full breath, but she gathered what little strength she had and pulled herself to her feet, stumbling forward, past her father and toward the stairs. Above her, the sky was still dark, stars blotted out by thick, dark storm clouds.

  Mady.

  Something acrid hit her nose. Not a cloud. Smoke. With her hands grasping the rail, she pulled herself up the steps. If she could have cried, she would have, but she didn’t have the strength. She couldn’t afford to waste a single tear. Her sister needed her. Mady. I’m coming.

  Her body shook, her vision fading in and out as she came up out of the hole in the earth and stumbled forward. A blast of heat made her cry out and turn her head. Behind her, the house was engulfed in flames, a wild inferno that shot sparks into the charred sky. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  Black smoke billowed, causing Liza to wheeze and cough, blood sputtering from her neck wound. Orange flames leapt from the room at the back, the room that had been her father’s.

  She took her hands from her throat and grabbed for the back door handle, jerking her hands away when her skin made contact with the burning hot metal. Too hot, too hot. Her vision swam, her body tipping before she caught herself. She placed one blistered hand back to her wound, staunching the blood once more and with her other hand, she slapped her own face. She could not pass out again, she could not. Would not. Hold on, Mady. Hold on.

  Again, she slapped herself. Again. Again. Gritting her teeth against the pain and the terror.

  Liza stumbled around the side of the house, searching for a way in, but each window was broken, hot flames leaping from inside. She swore she heard laughter, a delirious demon glorying in the rise of hell, dancing within the flames. It whipped her hair across her cheek as she turned the corner and saw that the front door was wide open, and that the flames hadn’t yet reached the front of the house. She staggered toward it. The fire sounded like it contained a hundred howling beasts now, angry that, for the moment, she’d evaded the flames. But the fire was coming for her. A crash echoed from within, and she pictured Mady, scared and desperate as she cried for Liza to help her. She didn’t have a second to spare.

  Liza peeled off her blood-soaked nightgown and wrapped the material around her face, ducking her head as she entered the inferno.

  I’m coming, Mady. Hold on. Just hold on.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “You should go on in.”

  Reed startled where he stood, whipping his head around to see a young girl with her dark hair in a messy braid, wearing blue shorts and a white tank top. She held a red plastic scooter by her side as she gazed at him placidly. His heart rate, which had spiked momentarily at the unexpected voice, steadied at the sight of the child. He turned to her and raised a brow.

  “Go on in where?”

  She nodded her head in the direction of the farmhouse just a few hundred feet up the road but kept her gaze on him. He glanced backward as though he needed to confirm the farmhouse was in fact what
she was referring to, and not something else nearby that he may not have noticed. But no, it was the pretty white house he knew well—at least from the outside—wavering under the summer sun. He turned slowly back to the girl as she dropped her scooter to the dirt road and placed one foot on it, using her other foot to push forward. She wheeled halfway around him, moving between his body and the rear bumper of his car. He turned his head to follow her movement. “I know who you are.”

  He smiled, both bemused and confused. Where had this kid come from? “Oh yeah? And how’s that?”

  She made her way around him, the tires of her scooter scratching in the rust-colored dirt. She paused in her answer, circling him once more. “Because there are pictures of you all over our house.”

  Surprise caused his body to still. “Pictures?” he repeated, the word fading into the hot, still air. Our house.

  She came to a stop in front of him and nodded. “You’re Reed. I’ve seen you here before.” She inclined her head toward the farmhouse again. “You should go on in. She’ll be real happy to see you. You shouldn’t be scared she won’t.”

  He moved his gaze to the house in the near distance, then looked back at the girl. “You’re Arryn,” he guessed.

  Arryn grinned, showing off a gap-toothed smile and a one-sided dimple. “You know me too.”

  Reed let out an exhale. “I know of you.”

  Arryn’s smile faded and she nodded sagely. “You should get to know me better. I think you’ll like me.”

  Reed smiled. “Really? What will I like about you?” he teased.

  Arryn looked him straight in the eye. “I’m loyal.” She stepped back on her scooter and did another ring around him. “I’m a force to be reckoned with.” She shot him another toothy grin. “That’s what my dad says.” She stopped, her brow scrunching momentarily. He noticed she had a scrape on one tanned knee, and a scab on the other that was almost healed over. “He says I’m incorrigible, too, and I’m not totally sure what that means, but I’m pretty positive it’s good because his eyes always smile when he says it, even if his face doesn’t.”