Where the Truth Lives - Mia Sheridan Page 0,2

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