Cover image for The Book of Lies
The Book of Lies
Terry, Teri, author.
Personal Author:
Publication Information:
Boston ; New York : Clarion Books, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2017.

Physical Description:
370 pages ; 22 cm
"Twin teen girls with very different upbringings meet for the first time at their mother's funeral. As they get to know each other, it becomes clear that one of the sisters is driven by a secret destructive power-or is it both?"--
General Note:
"First published in Great Britain in 2016 by Orchard Books, an imprint of Hachette"--Title page verso.
Format :


Call Number
Material Type
Home Location
Item Holds
Y FICTION Young Adult Fiction Young Adult
Y FICTION Young Adult Fiction Popular Materials-Young Adult
Y FICTION Young Adult Fiction Audio Visual

On Order



In this suspenseful, gripping novel, teen twin girls raised separately meet for the first time at their mother's funeral. Quinn has been trained to never tell a lie. Piper is a practiced liar. Narrated in both voices, the story of their quest to learn truths that have been concealed from them is shadowed by a dark spell that beckons them to run at night with a pack of murdering ghost hounds. Suspense, menace, mystery, witchcraft, family secrets, mistaken identity, and romance are interwoven in a brilliantly written page-turner that will grab and thrill teen readers.

Author Notes

Teri Terry has been a scientist, a lawyer, and an optometrist. She has managed businesses and worked in secondary schools and libraries. In 2004 "the stories took over," and she now writes full time. She lives in England with her family.

Reviews 2

Booklist Review

Quinn, raised by her grandmother to believe she is evil, and Piper, spoiled and beloved by her parents, are twin sisters who meet for the first time at their mother's funeral. As they begin to piece together their vastly different lives, a web of lies and secrets begins to unravel, threatening Zak, the boy both girls desire. Terry's modern gothic is narrated by Quinn and Piper in alternating chapters, which helps readers settle into the characters' minds. Neither girl is wholly blameless for the troubles in which they find themselves, though they are sympathetic characters, even in their untrustworthy states. Terry skirts the edge of a typical love triangle in the first half of the book but moves away from it as her setting shifts from the suburbs to bleak Dartmoor. Zak remains a solid supporting character, swept up blindly in the twins' schemes. Compelling female leads, an atmospheric setting, and short, quick chapters make this a good choice for reluctant readers looking for horror lite.--Wildsmith, Snow Copyright 2017 Booklist

School Library Journal Review

Gr 7-10-A thriller fantasy novel complete with ferocious hounds, a chilling moor landscape, and mysterious twin sisters separated at birth. Told in alternating chapters, readers learn that Quinn Blackwood lives a harsh life on the moors under the watchful and disapproving eye of her grandmother. She is often punished and warned of her darker element, but has no grasp of its meaning. Piper lives a lavish life filled with many friends, a doting father, and a present mother. When the twins' mother is mysteriously attacked and killed by a pack of dogs, Piper and Quinn are secretly reunited at her funeral. Piper's boyfriend, Zak, is the only other person to know about the discovery and assists them in uncovering their family history. As the twins trade places to learn about each other's lives, Piper discovers vulnerabilities in Quinn and Quinn becomes aware of Piper's uncanny ability to lie and manipulate others. Quinn is increasingly drawn to Zak but committed to exploring a loving relationship with a sibling. When Quinn returns to Dartmoor, she dreams of a frantic chase by hounds while Piper dreams more frequently of the hunt and the taste for blood. One twin is drawn to the kill, and Quinn's darkness may have been misread. Several flashbacks draw readers to the origins of the Blackwood curse. Terry weaves elements of time travel, witches, cursed hounds, and betrayal in a style that is heavier on mystery and relatable characters. VERDICT A great addition for those who enjoy thrillers or fantasy -fiction.-Monica Cabarcas, Albemarle High School, Charlottesville, VA © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.



QUINN There are things you know you shouldn't do. Like standing on the tracks when the train is getting close. Or holding your hand over an open flame--​I can wave it across fast and be fine, but something inside makes me hold it there a second longer, then another, and another. Train tracks and mothers are much the same as flames: too close, too long, risk pain.      If I sat and made a list of all the things I shouldn't do and put them in order, starting with the worst, being here today would be near the top. But I'm drawn to things I shouldn't do. Is it just to see what happens, who it will hurt? Maybe.      So, no matter how much that inner voice of caution, of reason, said stay away; no matter how I tried to convince myself or lose my bus ticket and deliberately didn't wear anything even vaguely acceptable, I was never going to be anywhere else, was I?      I'm shivering under leafless trees on a hill above the crematorium, my coat a splash of red in a colorless dark day. Considering my options.      It starts to rain, and I'm glad. She hated the rain. Not just how most people grumble if they're caught in a shower or their garden party is ruined--​she properly hated it. Almost like she was made of something that would wash away, not sinew, muscle, and bone.      Maybe she was afraid rain would wash away her mask--​the one she's wearing in the newspapers, smiling, with a man I've never seen before. Smiling? I wonder if she smiles in her coffin, if they arranged her features into a pleasant lie for the afterlife. If they hoped it'd persuade whoever's in charge to open the pearly gates, instead of giving that final push for the long slide down. Or maybe there wasn't enough left of her face.      Cars start winding up the road. The first is long and black, a coffin in the back. When it pulls in front of the crematorium, it seems right that the rain goes from steady to more. It thunders down in sheets, and lightning splits the sky.      Even as I hang back and think about the things I should and shouldn't do, about how close to get to the flame, it's almost like the storm has made the decision for me. It says, Quinn, you must step forward. You must seek shelter.      But that's just the excuse. The truth is that I'm here to make sure she's really dead. PIPER The wind howls, rips the umbrella inside out as soon as I step out of the car. Cold raindrops pelt my face, my hands. In seconds, the wind whips my carefully arranged hair to a wild mess. Hard and furious drops sting my skin, and I focus on that pain, to avoid all the others.      Another umbrella is rushed over both of us as Dad emerges, but all I can think about is how the rain must pound on her coffin lid. Does it echo inside? Will she bang in protest, yell, Oi, make it stop ? She who lived for sunny days shouldn't have her last outing like this.      The pallbearers take short, measured steps despite the freezing onslaught, and I want to yell, to shriek at them to hurry, to get her out of the rain. Dad's cold hand seeks mine, and I grip it a little too tight. Dad and I follow the coffin--​follow her, follow Mum --​inside.      One of Dad's aunts clucks and smooths my hair, and I'm pulled toward the row at the front, but like the rest of this, it doesn't really register.      I try the words on again inside my head. My mother is dead. My world is different; everything is different. I know it, but I don't know it in my guts. The coffin has been placed to one side at the front--​dry now. Did somebody dry it? She's inside it, but it's not really her: just what is left.      Knowing all these things didn't prepare me for any of this. Something is shaking deep inside me; panic is building.      I want to scream, Stop this, it isn't real! Stop pretending that it is!      It can't be.      Focus on breathing: in, out, in, out.      They all think it's real. It's in their eyes--​those that meet mine, those that shy away.      Breathe, Piper: in, out, in, out. I can't lose it. Not here, not now.      Focus on something else.      I turn and search the faces behind us, skipping over most of them. Dad's family, his work colleagues, his and Mum's mutual friends. Not many. No one from Mum's family. No one from her past, from before I was born seventeen years ago.      There is a good-size contingent of friends from my school. Apart from but near to them is Zak. His steady gaze echoes his words last night: I'm here for you. Anything I can do, anything, just ask and I'll do it. No matter what. And the touch of his eyes soothes me now, as it did then. The panic eases, just a little. But it's enough.      The service is about to begin when the doors at the back open, and the rent-a-vicar pauses to wait. A latecomer? I hear a disapproving tch under the breath from one of Dad's aunts behind us. I hazard a glance backwards. A slight figure, a girl in a red coat and muddy boots. She's moving toward the empty row at the back. A rainbow scarf covers her head, pulled low over her face.      Who could it be? Could it . . .       No. No way. Not here, not now. My pulse quickens. Excerpted from The Book of Lies by Teri Terry All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.