The Blood House

  Copyright 2016 Amy Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.

  Kindle edition

  Dark Season Books

  First published: March 2016

  This edition: July 2016

  This book's front cover incorporates elements licensed from the Bigstock photo site.

  “Mama lost her head...”

  Seventy-five years ago, a family of three disappeared from their remote English home. Blood was left smeared all over the floors and walls, but despite an extensive search, their bodies were never found.

  Now the house is ready to kill again.

  On the run from his creditors, Owen Richards moves his wife and daughter out to the same house. Despite the strange portrait of an old man in the hallway, and the faint ticking sound coming from the walls, he insists that the house offers a perfect chance for them to start afresh.

  Before their first night in their new home is over, however, Owen and his family are going to come face-to-face with the diabolical creation of a long-dead old man. Deadly dangers lurk in every room, and the constant ticking sound is just the first hint of a much greater monstrosity. No-one has ever managed to survive the house, or to outsmart its creator. And beneath the house, a horrific mechanism predicts every move the Richards family might make as they desperately try to escape.

  The Blood House is a horror novella about three people trapped in a nightmare, and about an old man who was willing to stop at nothing in his quest to be remembered as a great genius.

  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

  Epilogue

  The Blood House

  Prologue

  75 years ago

  “Help!” she screamed, slamming through the door and landing hard on the porch. “Somebody help me!”

  Reaching out, she used her left hand to grab the top step, hauling herself along. Her entire right arm had been cut away, sliced at the shoulder, and a trail of blood led back into the dark house as the girl dragged herself over the step and fell, crashing down until she hit the dry mud.

  “Help me!” she shouted, looking toward the road. Filled with panic, she dug her the fingers of her left hand into the ground and started dragging herself away from the house. With her right arm gone, and both her legs broken at the knees, she was wholly reliant on her remaining left arm. Sobbing and trembling, she couldn't help glancing over her shoulder, looking back at the house with terror-filled eyes.

  A little further across the clearing, a crow had settled on the branch of an old tree and was watching the scene. The bird's beady black eyes flicked first one way and then the other, as the girl's scream continued to ring out from nearby. Unsettled but curious, the crow made its way along the branch, ready to fly away at any moment if it sensed danger. For now, however, it was content to simply observe the strange sight of the bloodied, screaming human girl as she dragged herself – inch by inch – away from the house.

  “Mama lost her head,” she gasped, barely able to get the words out. “Mama... Mama... Papa's still in bed... Mama lost her head...”

  After a moment, the crow turned and looked over at the bare, dusty road.

  Suddenly the girl let out a brief, violent scream that ended abruptly after just a couple of seconds.

  The crow looked back toward the house. Just a few seconds ago, the girl had been screaming and begging for help, yet now she was gone. There was blood smeared across the dusty ground, though, and the smeared red trail ran all the way up the steps to the dark, gaping door. The crow watched for a moment, trying to work out where the girl had gone, but the scene was completely silent now. Letting out a nervous caw, the crow stepped back along the branch, still confused by the fact that the human had miraculously vanished in mid-scream.

  Suddenly the front door of the house slammed shut, causing the crow to immediately take flight and wheel high into the afternoon sky.

  Once the bird was gone, the house stood silent and still, but the trail of blood could still be seen running from the door, down the steps, and across the yard until the point where the girl had seemingly disappeared.

  Finally, the faintest clicking sound could be heard coming from the door. Or, more precisely, from the lock, as the bolt slid back into place, sealing the house from the inside.

  Chapter One

  Two weeks ago

  “Mr. Richards, can you please open the door? I know you're in there.”

  Another knocking sound filled the room, followed by the creak of the door handle as someone tried again to get inside.

  “Mr. Richards, this is ridiculous. You and I both know why I'm here, so why don't we get this over with?”

  Silence.

  “Mr. Richards, you're just wasting everybody's time.”

  Over on the far side of the room, Owen Richards sat crouched under his desk, keeping well out of sight and barely even daring to breathe. He flinched as he heard the handle being turned again, and then he felt a flash of relief at the sound of footsteps walking away. Checking his watch, he saw that it was almost 9am, which meant the guy from the lawyer's office would undoubtedly be back again around lunch, maybe even before. Over the past few weeks, the same man had been getting progressively more persistent, and Owen had found himself living in constant fear. Still, he'd managed to avoid being served, and he figured he could keep ducking and diving for as long as he needed.

  Finally, after a few minutes, he dared crawl out from under the desk. Staying quiet, he watched the door for a moment, before crawling over and peering through the keyhole. Sure enough, there was no sign of anyone in the corridor outside.

  “Okay,” he muttered, getting to his feet and straightening his tie. “Time to get out of here for the day.”

  Grabbing the paperwork he'd come for, he unlocked the door and stepped out into the corridor.

  “Owen Richards,” a voice said suddenly, “you are hereby served.”

  Stepping back, Owen tried to slam the door shut, only for the thin folder of documents to slip through the crack and land at his feet.

  “That doesn't count!” he stammered. “Legally -”

  “Doesn't count, my ass,” the guy sneered on the other side of the door, already walking away. “Tell it to the judge, Mr. Richards. I'm sure you'll be the first guy who's ever given him a sob story. You just got served.”

  “Damn!” Owen muttered, slamming the door shut so hard that it rebounded and almost hit him in the face. Looking down at the papers, he briefly considered picking them up before, with a sigh, kicking them across the room. “You're not gonna get me,” he said bitterly, staring at the folder as it came to a rest next to the desk. Finally he stormed over to the window and slid it open, leaning out just in time to see the guy walking out the front of the building a couple of floors below. “So you served me!” he yelled. “So what? It'll be a cold day in hell before I go anywhere near a goddamn courtroom. How does it feel to be working for a bunch of total assholes?”

  He waited, but the guy didn't look up at him.

  “Damn it!” he said again, stepp
ing back from the window. “Why can't they just leave me alone?”

  ***

  “I might have to get out of town,” he said a few hours later, scanning the newspaper's classified page as he stirred his coffee. “I swear to God, I'm developing an ulcer. I need to go somewhere else and start again. Somewhere those bastards from the Conneal corporation won't be able to catch up to me.”

  “Uh-huh,” Monahan muttered, sitting on the next bar-stool along and staring into his beer. “And how do Helen and Jenna feel about that?”

  “They'll be fine.”

  “So you haven't asked them?”

  “They'll go where I go,” Owen told him, taking a sip of coffee. “Helen understands that my work sometimes means we have to uproot ourselves. We've moved before, we'll do it again.”

  “That woman has the patience of a saint.”

  “And Jenna's very adaptable. She'll see it as an adventure. Trust me, my daughter likes a challenge.”

  “You know Conneal won't give up, right?” Monahan continued. “You can move anywhere you like, you can even go abroad, but they'll keep coming until they get you into court. There's no way they'll just forget about that two hundred grand you...” He paused. “Well, whatever you did with it. They're gonna want it back.”

  “I re-allocated it within the department's budget,” Owen said firmly. “I already explained!”

  “Then why are they suing you?”

  He paused. “It's complicated. I don't want to go into it.”

  “They'd have left you alone if you hadn't gotten so angry,” Monahan pointed out.

  Owen sighed.

  “I mean it,” Monahan added. “That's always been your problem. Even if you actually get away with one of your insane schemes, even if you win the day, you always make the wrong choice. You can't just walk away.”

  “You don't know what you're talking about,” Owen muttered. Still looking at the adverts, he spotted several listings for apartments and houses. “When did rental prices get so high?” he asked with a sigh. “Jesus Christ, who can afford these places?”

  “People with actual jobs,” Monahan pointed out, “and stable financial situations.”

  “And what's with all the references you always need? Since when did renting an apartment meant turning over your entire life so it can be scrutinized by some realtor hack.”

  “I guess they wanna make sure they're not renting to someone who might skip out on the last month's check,” Monahan replied, glancing at him. “Know anyone who might do something like that?”

  “Can it,” Owen sighed, “I don't need -”

  Stopping suddenly, he re-read one particular listing,

  “Found something?” Monahan asked.

  “Traditional Victorian-era family home available now, no onward chain,” Owen read out loud. “Rustic environment, remote location, certain conditions apply. Two hundred a month, all bills included -”

  “That must be a misprint,” Monahan pointed out.

  “Isn't a misprint legally binding?”

  “No chance.”

  “Would suit small family,” Owen continued, still reading from the listing, “with desire to move out of town and live closer to nature. No references required...” He nodded. “That's a bonus. No references required, no deposit, call now to discuss renting this fully-furnished house of character.”

  “Character means it's a dump,” Monahan said with a sigh. “The whole thing sounds too good to be true.”

  “It's worth a shot, though,” Owen replied, already typing the number into his phone.

  “And you think your creditors won't find you? Lawyers are like rats, my friend. They catch up with everyone eventually.”

  “That's just what they want you to think,” Owen replied. “They perpetuate this cult of inevitability, but every system can be beaten. No matter how bad things look, you can always wriggle out and live to fight another day. And that's why I'm taking my family away from the heat for a while. We'll go off the grid and then we'll come back in six months or a year, ready to take on the world again.”

  “You can't be serious. There's no way Helen and Jenna are gonna want to move out of town.”

  “It'll just be for a while,” Owen muttered, tapping the screen to call. “They know how things are. Believe it or not, they believe in me. They know everything'll be okay once I get back on my feet.” As the phone began to ring, he climbed off the stool and made his way across the diner, looking for a little privacy. “Hi,” he said as soon as he heard someone picking up on the other end of the line. “My name's Owen Richards. I'm calling about the house you've listed for rental.”

  “Too good to be true,” Monahan sighed, taking another sip of beer. “There'll be a catch. There's always a catch.”

  Chapter Two

  “It's perfect,” Owen whispered later that night, as he put his arm around Helen in bed. “This is a wonderful opportunity, honey. We always said we wanted to get away from the rat-race and raise Jenna somewhere a little more natural.”

  “We never said that,” Helen replied, turning to him.

  “Well, we thought it,” he continued.

  “I didn't think it,” she told him. “Not once. We're city people, Owen. We belong in the city. We can be happy here.”

  “Just hear me out,” he said with a sigh. “This house is in the middle of nature.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It's away from the fumes and pollution of the city.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It's a chance for us to reconnect with the world.”

  She frowned. “Uh-huh. And for you to make sure you don't reconnect with the people you owe money to?”

  “You're being cynical.”

  “I just don't know if I want to move again,” she continued, keeping her voice low. “Honey, when we came to this apartment, you promised that things'd be different. You swore there'd be no more running and hiding.”

  “I'm not running and hiding.”

  “Then why do -”

  “Those guys are assholes!” he hissed. “They just won't give up! I thought they'd have tired themselves out by now, but no, they're still coming after me!”

  “Maybe you can cut a deal. Maybe they'll let you just pay part of the money back.”

  “That's not how they work. They don't just want money anymore. They want blood.”

  She sighed.

  “This is the last time,” he continued, “I promise. We'll just go live in this remote house, getting close to nature, and while we're there I'll work on my new projects. I guarantee you that within a year, I'll have come up with an idea that'll make us millions! Then we can pay off every goddamn creditor and come back to the city, and we can finally buy our own place! Hell, maybe we can even put Jenna in some fancy private school! Plus, we can -”

  “Stop.”

  “I'm serious, I have ideas already and -”

  “Stop,” she said again, placing a finger against his lips. “Don't make promises you can't keep.” She paused, watching him for a moment. “You've already phoned these people and agreed to rent the house from them, haven't you?”

  He nodded.

  “And you've also told our current landlord that we're leaving at the end of the month, right?”

  He nodded again.

  “Without even consulting me first?”

  “We have to get out of here,” he continued. “Honey, I won't let you down this time, I promise. One day, we'll look back on this moment and laugh.”

  “I'd settle for just looking back and not crying,” she replied. “I'd also quite like to try living in the same place for more than a year.”

  “We'll buy a goddamn mansion one day,” he told her, kissing her on the cheek. “You still have faith in me, don't you? I know I've messed up a few times, but I've learned and now I know how to make a go of my new projects. Just keep the faith, honey, and I will give you and Jenna everything you could possibly want in the whole world. Everything and more.”

  She
paused, before sighing. “I guess the decision's already made, huh? Just turn the light out.”

  “You're not mad, are you?”

  “No, I'm not mad.” She turned and kissed his shoulder. “You can tell me all the details in the morning. Right now, I'm exhausted. Can you turn the light out?”

  “Promise you're not mad at me.”

  “I'm not mad at you.”

  “Promise you'll enter into this new chapter of our lives with enthusiasm and confidence.”

  “Whatever. The lights, honey, please...”

  Owen paused for a moment, before leaning over and flicking one of the switches on the panel next to the bed. The light directly above them turned off, but two others came to life by the door. He tried another switch, and this time a brighter light was switched on over by the far wall.

  “The one in the middle,” Helen told him, sounding exhausted, “and the one on the bottom left.”

  “They're the ones I tried,” he replied, hitting several more switches but still not managing to turn the room dark. “This damn thing is way too complicated for its own good.”

  Sighing, Helen rolled over and reached past him, quickly flicking a couple of switches and turning the lights off.

  “I already pressed those ones!” Owen said as he heard his wife rolling back across the bed. “I swear!”

  “Good night, honey,” she said with another sigh. “We'll talk more in the morning.”

  “But you're not annoyed, are you?”

  “No, I'm not annoyed. I'm just tired.”

  “Trust me,” he continued, putting an arm around her, “this move is gonna change everything. I can feel it in my bones, Helen. I'm so close to making a fortune. You'll see. This is the best decision I've ever made.”

  He waited for a reply. After a few seconds, he heard yet another sigh in the darkness.

  “I'll show you,” he told her, kissing her shoulder. “One day, you're gonna be so proud of me.”