The House that Jack Built Read online

  For my brothers...

  I'll always have your back...

  Copyright © M.M. Boulder 2020

  The moral right of the author has been asserted (vigorously).

  All rights reserved. Published by Lone Ghost Publishing LLC,

  associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of

  Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.

  No part or parts of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (including via carrier pigeon),

  without written permission of the author and publisher.

  Author: Boulder, M.M.

  Title: THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT.

  ISBN: 9798678061706

  Target Audience: Adult

  Subjects:

  Psychological Thriller, Domestic Thriller, Serial Killer Thriller

  This is a work of fiction, which means it’s made up. Names, characters, peoples, locales, and incidents (stuff that happens in the story) are either gifts of the ether, products of the author’s resplendent imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or dying, businesses or companies in operation or defunct, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  M.M. Boulder

  THE HOUSE THAT

  JACK BUILT

  Pronunciation Guide:

  Sian (Siân): Welsh, pronounced "Sharn"

  Bronwen: Welsh, pronounced "BRAHN-wen"

  Áine: pronounced ON-ya, is an Irish Goddess of summer, love, protection, fertility, wealth and sovereignty. Also known as the Goddess of Luck and Magick

  Chapter One

  "I totally smeared you!" twenty-four-year-old Sian Ellis crowed as she trotted up the stone walkway towards the side door.

  "Just because you won doesn't mean you beat me," her older brother Gavin replied with a snort.

  "That's exactly what it means, you numbskull," she laughed as she pushed the heavy, wooden door open. She stepped into the anteroom off the kitchen, then stumbled to a halt, tennis racket slipping from her suddenly numb fingers and tumbling to the floor with a clatter.

  "What's wrong?" Gavin asked, pushing past her.

  Sian didn't respond. She couldn't. There was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the walls, on the doorway. So much blood. Brilliantly red, pulsating with energy and death. Sian could feel it, and it made her nauseous.

  The floor to ceiling mirrors on either side of the doorway had been broken, and the blood shimmered on the shards, reflecting red and silver all over the hallway.

  "How could anyone lose so much blood?" she whispered, beginning to think Alice was playing a nasty prank or they had just walked into a game of solve the murder.

  That's when she saw the headless man lying in the middle of the room. Her heart stuttered, and her stomach rolled. She could see the bones in his neck. She could see his air pipe. He wasn't a prank. He was real. And he was very, very dead.

  She fought a wave of dizziness, leaning on the wall for support. The smell of freshly baked bread was mixing with the metallic scent of the blood, and it was all she could do to keep from vomiting.

  "Who is that?" she whispered frantically, her eyes scanning the hallway for the man's head. "Who killed him, Gavin? Why is he here?"

  Gavin didn't respond, just cursed under his breath, pulled the knife he'd carried since he turned sixteen, and walked slowly forward. Towards the bloody kitchen doorway.

  Sian pinched herself, trying to wake up. This couldn't be real. If she looked hard enough she'd see the walls were really made of pudding and the blood was just cherry sauce and she'd wake up hungry.

  But when she opened her eyes the blood was still blood, coating everything, and Gavin was almost to the body. Sian leaped forward and grabbed his arm.

  "What're you doing?" she stuttered. "We have to call the police. That man's dead... I mean... He doesn't have a head!"

  "No," Gavin replied, voice rough. "We need to sweep the house to see if they're still here. Stay right behind me."

  She didn't have to ask him who "they" were. He meant their family. Mom and Dad, Grandma, Owen, and Alice. Surely they weren't here. Surely they were okay. But someone had killed that man. Sian shuddered. It couldn't have been one of her family.

  But where were they? Why hadn't her dad called them and told them what had happened, that there was a dead man in the hallway? Why couldn't she hear Grandma's demanding voice telling someone to clean up this mess?

  "Sian, now!" Gavin hissed.

  She tried to step forward, but her feet wouldn't budge. They didn't want to go near the blood. They didn't want to go near the dead man. They didn't want to know what was in the kitchen.

  Gavin grabbed her hand, and she looked at him. His blue eyes were deeper than she'd ever seen them. Deep and full of an emotion she was too scared to identify.

  "Listen, Sian," he said softly. "I need you to be strong right now. I need you to be brave. We have to go into the kitchen. What if Mom's in there? What if she needs our help?"

  That was the problem. What if Mom WAS in there? It was too quiet. Everything was too quiet. All Sian could hear was her own ragged breathing. Why hadn't Owen or Mom, anyone, called them?

  "Sian!" Gavin snapped.

  She stared at him. She'd never seen him like this. He was usually so carefree and laid-back, so goofy. But he wasn't goofy now. His face was stone, and his words were harsh. He knew what was in the kitchen. He knew.

  "Okay," she mumbled, wishing she still believed she could do anything as long as Gavin was with her.

  "Stay behind me," he ordered again and stepped forward towards the kitchen.

  She took a small step forward, and something crunched under her foot. She glanced down. Her grandma's prized Van Briggle vase was broken beyond recognition, purple fragments mixing with the glass of the mirrors. It didn't make sense. Nothing was making sense.

  "Sian!" Gavin hissed.

  He was nearly to the kitchen now, and he was waiting impatiently for her. She started to move forward again, but the floor between them was coated in blood. She swallowed a gag. There was no way she could reach him without stepping in it.

  She tried to take another step, but her foot hovered just above the blood.

  "NOW!" Gavin snapped.

  She closed her eyes and stepped down. Her shoe squished, and she shuddered, then stepped forward again and again, walking just on her tippy toes, moving steadily towards Gavin.

  She gagged as she stepped carefully over the dead man's body, then stepped into the kitchen behind Gavin, swallowing a scream as everything came into view.

  There was a bloody stub of a hand on the kitchen counter, butcher knife still buried deeply in the glossy wooden countertop. A man was sprawled across the breakfast table, telephone cord wrapped around his neck. Another man was face down in a pool of blood on the floor, several kitchen knives buried to their handles in his back.

  Sian closed her eyes. Everything was so quiet. Quieter than their house had ever been. She couldn't keep going. If Dad were here he would have...

  She shook her head, trying to erase the thought. They were probably just out back or at the store. They hadn't been here. They surely hadn't killed these men. Everything was okay. They would find everyone, and they would laugh about how scared she was.

  "We have to call the police," she mumbled, shaking all over.

  "Shut up!" Gavin hissed, stepping over a body on the floor and heading towards the doorway leading to the formal dining room.

  She wanted to run outside and keep running. She wanted to scream. She wanted her mom. But she followed him slowly, trying to tamp down her f
ear and her horror.

  This has to be a dream, Sian thought, stopping by the table and staring at the strangled man's purple face. She'd fallen asleep reading again, and this was a dream. She had to stop reading horror novels. They were probably rotting her brain.

  "Sian!" Gavin snapped.

  She started to look up from the dead man, but then she noticed he'd fallen into a bowl of cereal and milk had splattered everywhere. The milk was mixing with blood, creating strange little pink puddles on the floor. Who had been eating cereal? Whose blood was on the floor?

  "Sian, I need you to stay with me!"

  Gavin never demanded, never ordered. He always said things with a laugh. Why was he suddenly so serious? This was a dream. It wasn't real.

  Sian walked to him in a daze. She'd wake up any minute now. She'd wake up, and she'd find Gavin. They'd laugh about her crazy dream and go play their tennis match. She would beat him, because she always did, and they would come home and eat a huge breakfast. Just like they always did.

  They walked down the hallway, following the blood. The dining room was empty and bloodless, so Gavin passed it by and kept going until he stepped out into the main entryway.

  She heard him gasp. She saw him run forward. She saw him pull their mother off the floor and into his arms. She saw all the blood. Saw the way their mother's head rolled limply to the side, and part of her knew she was dead. But it was just a dream.

  Sian walked forward slowly, feeling like she was caught in some kind of frozen moment. Time had stopped, and she could barely move.

  Gavin was crying, and she didn't know why. "Mom's not really dead," she whispered. "This is just a dream."

  His face was colorless and his eyes full of grief when he looked at her. "Oh Sian," he groaned. "I..." He didn't go on, but something in his eyes changed, hardened, resolved. He kissed their mom's head, laid her gently on the floor, and stood, grabbing Sian's hand.

  "We need to get out of here," he said.

  Her head was dizzy. Nothing was making sense. Why was there so much blood? Why were the mirrors broken? Who were all the dead men?

  "But what about Dad?" she heard herself ask. "What about Alice and Owen?"

  "They're gone Sian," Gavin said. "They're gone. It's just you and me."

  She laughed a little hysterically, her eyes still gazing at her mom's chalk white face. "How can you say that?" she demanded. "This is ridiculous! Tell me it's a dream! Wake me up!" Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she didn't understand why. "Wake me up," she whispered, feeling like a single breath would shatter her.

  Gavin grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. "Sian, I swear to you, you are awake. This is not a dream."

  Her whole body went cold. Gavin never lied to her. Not ever. If he said... Even if it was a dream he wouldn't lie to her. So it wasn't. It couldn't be. Her legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees.

  Her sweet, funny mother was dead. Her throat had been sliced from side to side, and it gaped open like a mouth, like a laughing mouth. But her mother's face was slack and dead. Her mom was dead. It wasn't a dream. She was really dead.

  A sob tore past Sian's lips as she grabbed her mom's wrist, feeling frantically for a pulse she knew wouldn't be there.

  "She's gone, Sian," Gavin whispered.

  "NO!!!" she wailed. "How?!!! WHY?!!!" She wanted to close her mom's throat, wanted the gruesome open smile to go away, wanted her to open her real mouth and say "I'm not really dead, sweetie. Everything's okay".

  "We have to go," Gavin said, pulling Sian away from their mother's side.

  Sian pushed him away, then froze. The spilled cereal. It had been Crunchy-O's. Only Owen ate Crunchy-O's.

  She jumped to her feet and ran up the winding staircase two at a time.

  "OWEN!!!" she screamed. "ALICE!!! WHERE ARE YOU?!!!"

  No one answered. There was no sound at all except the soft pad of Gavin running behind her.

  Sian scrambled over a dead man in the hallway on her way to Alice's room. The door was open, but Alice's room was empty.

  "ALICE!" she screamed again, pushing back past Gavin and bolting down the hallway.

  More dead men. She wasn't counting. She couldn't think outside her fear. Mom was dead. Mom was dead. Mom was dead.

  There was blood on the hallway floor. There were bloody handprints on the walls. Why was there so much blood? Where was Alice? Why weren't they answering? She refused to believe they were dead. They couldn't be dead.

  The wall across from Owen's door was riddled with bullet holes. There were legs in the hallway. Dead legs, but they couldn't be Owen's. He'd never wear pressed pants like those.

  Sian stopped just outside the door and stared. Owen's door had been broken down. Three men lay just inside the room, oxford shirts stained red with their own blood.

  And there was Owen. Splayed out on top of his trunk, gun still clutched in his hand, eyes glassy blue. There was a knife sticking out of his throat, and blood dripped sluggishly from around the knife, staining his favorite ironic t-shirt.

  "Owen, oh sweet Owen." She stumbled towards him, numb and cold, ignoring Gavin's grasping fingers, ignoring his order to "leave right this minute". She had to see Owen.

  She touched his face with trembling fingers. He was still warm, but he was dead. His restrained energy, his serious smile, gone, all gone.

  She wanted to hug him, to tell him everything was okay. But she couldn't. He was dead. He would never again give her that look he always did when she said something stupid. He would never again beat her at chess. He was dead, and nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

  She closed her eyes in agony. He was her little brother, and she'd always protected him. She'd protected him from the bully at jiu jitsu class; she'd protected him from Uncle Frank's noggies; she'd protected him from Grandma's disgusting cod liver oil. But she had failed him this time. She hadn't been here, and he was dead.

  "Alice," she gasped. "Alice! ALICE!!!"

  She turned from Owen and started searching his room, but she didn't see Alice anywhere. Maybe she'd gotten away. Maybe she'd run.

  Gavin grabbed Sian's hand, grip hard. "Listen to me, Sian. We have to go. Now!"

  "But Dad and Grandma and Alice! We have to find them!"

  "No."

  "We have to! Mom is dead! Owen is dead! Don't you understand?!!"

  "We have to go!" Gavin's voice was hard. "You don't understand, and I can't explain it to you. We have to go!"

  "No! Not without Alice."

  "Stubborn ass," Gavin hissed, pulling her out of Owen's room and past all the other bedrooms until they reached the end of the hallway.

  Sian stopped breathing when she saw the doors to the master suite had been torn from their hinges. Suddenly she didn't want to go any further. She should have gone when Gavin told her to. She didn't want to go inside her parent's bedroom, but it was too late.

  Gavin dragged her inside, dropping her arm just on the other side of the door. Her chest ached from holding her breath, and as soon as she saw the destruction inside the room, all her air rushed out in a terrified gasp.

  Her parent's room was completely destroyed. Her mom's collection of glass horses had been shattered into millions of pieces. Her dad's framed original Jerry Uelsmann photographs had been torn from the walls and smashed into unrecognizable pieces. Everything was in chaos. It barely resembled the room Sian knew so well.

  She blundered through the debris, looking for something, anything, that would tell her why this had happened. But she couldn't find a thing, just broken bits and pieces of her parent's lives.

  She glanced across the room and saw Gavin, his shoulders sagging, standing in front of the walk-in closet. The double doors were hanging open, and there was blood on the closet floor.

  "No," she whispered, feeling the last remnants of her hope wither away.

  "Stay here," Gavin hissed as he stepped into the closet.

  There was a gun in Gavin's hand, and Sian wondered vaguely where it had
come from. Everything was wrong. Gavin was wrong, acting so serious and hard. The blood, the death, Mom, Owen, all wrong.

  Who had killed all those men? Why had they been here in the first place? Why had they killed Mom? Why had they killed Owen? What were they looking for? Why didn't anything make sense?

  Her feet moved, taking her inside the closet. It wasn't a dream. Gavin had sworn it wasn't, but it felt so unreal, so hazy, so strange. Owen dead. Sweet, red-haired Owen. Blue eyes frozen open. Blood oozing onto the floor.

  Her feet kept moving without her consent, taking her further into the closet. She didn't remember it being so long. She glanced up and gasped in surprise. There was a hidden door at the end. Inside her parent's closet.

  The air didn't feel like air anymore. She had to be dreaming. She had to be. Gavin wasn't freaking out. He wasn't screaming or sobbing or panicking. He was acting like it was something he'd seen before. But how could he? None of this was right. None of this was right.

  She stepped closer to the hidden door, feeling like she was about to walk into a hidden world. A world of secrets and queens, a world of magic.

  But instead it was a world of death. Sian couldn't move past the first dead body. She couldn't step over him, couldn't move into the hidden room she hadn't known was there.

  They were all dead. Dad, Alice, Grandma. Dead. It didn't make sense. But even more so, what Sian couldn't explain, what she didn't understand, was the others. There were at least fifteen men in the secret room with them. All dead. Had Dad killed them? Her serious, studious dad? All fifteen of them? He couldn't have, he wasn't... She didn't understand.

  She wanted to touch Alice, she wanted to hold her hand, move her hair out of her eyes, hug her, hold her, but she didn't. She couldn't. Alice was dead. There was too much blood on her chest for her not to be.

  Crazy, independent Alice. She'd never again fill a room with her cheerful laughter. She'd never drive her pink, little roadster across the country like she'd planned. She'd never breathe... ever again.