The BIG Horror Pack 1

by Iain Rob Wright

  Mike downed another rum he poured into a new glass then laughed bitterly. “You are far more than that and you know it. A harmless little boy doesn’t have the power to raise the dead.”

  One side of Sammie mouth slid up in a smirk. “Ssshhh, Michael, it’s a secret.”

  “Not from everyone. There are those – a select few – who know exactly what you are. They welcome you with open arms. They are your true family.”

  Sammie nodded knowingly. “My father’s company?”

  Mike shook his head. “No, Sammie, your company. Tonight you must kill your mother, the Jezebel. Bathing in her blood will be the mortal sin that awakens your destiny.”

  Sammie continued to speak like an innocent child. Mike found it annoying. “But if I kill my mommy, who will look after me?”

  “Your late father’s business partner, Vincent Black. He will adopt you. Together you’ll change the world. You were born to be great, Sammie. You just have to accept our help.”

  Sammie looked upwards at the ceiling as if to think about it. Then he looked back at Michael and said, “No, thanks.”

  Mike spluttered. “What?”

  “I’m thinking I’ll just take control of the company myself. I don’t see what Mr Black could offer me that I can’t do for myself. Perhaps I should kill him instead? Then I would own the entire company.”

  Mike shook his head and approached Sammie from behind the bar. “No, you don’t understand. You won’t be in charge until you are eighteen years of age. In the meantime, Mr Black will teach you about the business and about your destiny while you mature. You’ll be lost without him.”

  Sammie put a fingertip against his chin. “Perhaps you’re right. I still have one question, though.” He stepped closer to Mike, only a few feet away now. Mike could feel his skin prickling. “What exactly do I need you for?”

  Mike didn’t like where this was going. The ungrateful little shit was turning on him. “I have been helping you from the beginning, Sammie. Watching you and keeping you safe. I deserve your loyalty.”

  “I disagree. I think Frank is the one who has been keeping me safe since your murdered my father. Not that he ever really was my father – we both know the truth of that. Still, I loved the man all the same. He used to sing me lullabies before bed. I think I owe him more loyalty than I owe you, Mike, wouldn’t you agree? And what better way to show loyalty than to avenge his death, by gutting his killer like a sickly little pig that believes himself to be a wolf?”

  Mike had heard enough. The fear was so thick in his veins that his heart was threatening to burst. He was trapped inside the house and now Sammie wanted to kill him. There was no choice but to act, and act fast.

  He slipped a blade from the holster beneath his belt and thrust it against Sammie’s throat. The boy stayed calm, but one false move and Mike was ready to slice his fucking throat out. If it’s between you and me, oh great Messiah, then I choose me

  Sammie started giggling. “Tickles.”

  “What on earth is going on? Sammie? Mike?”

  Jessica and the others had entered the room. They seemed stunned by what they were seeing. Mike didn’t blame them. The game was finally up. No need to keep pretending.

  Sammie continued giggling.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “Mike, what the hell are you doing?” Jessica shouted.

  Angela’s stomach acids crashed against the rocks of her abdomen, making her want to vomit. The sight of a knife against flesh had always set her teeth on edge, ever since that church in Jersey. Seeing a blade against the throat of a child was even worse, but she knew there would be two sides of the story that was unfolding in front of her.

  “Hey, man,” Tim said. “Maybe we should just put the knives away. Things never end well when people start brandishing weapons.”

  “I’d be inclined to agree,” said Sammie, extremely calm for a child with a blade against his throat. “Such barbaric actions, Michael. I’m embarrassed for you.”

  Mike grabbed Sammie by the scruff of his neck and got him in a classic hostage-taking chokehold. He held the malicious-looking combat knife beneath the boy’s left eyeball. “You just keep your goddamn mouth closed, you little shit. Maybe I should take your eye out like you tried to do to me.”

  Jessica screamed at Mike not to. Angela wasn’t sure if he was bluffing or had totally lost it. From the look of his trembling hands and darting glances, it didn’t seem like Mike was in full control of himself. His usually cool demeanour had slipped away, like a satin sheet pulled from an unveiled painting. All that that was left was a frantic shell of a man.

  “Let’s not do anything hasty,” Angela said. “We’re all on edge. You must be upset about Graham’s death. He was your colleague. Is that what this is about? Do you hold Sammie responsible?”

  Mike laughed at them. “He is responsible. What the fuck do you think’s been going on around here? Open your eyes, idiots.”

  “What do you mean?” Angela asked.

  “Wake up,” Mike said. “This is all because of Sammie. He’s not a boy. He’s more than that – so much more. He is his father’s son, and his father was a great man.”

  “You mean Joseph,” said Tim.

  Mike cackled. “No, I do not mean Joseph. Tell them, Jessica. Tell them what a whore you are.”

  Jessica was distraught. Whether it was due to Mike’s accusations or because her son was in peril was unclear. Probably it was both. “How do you know about that?” Her voice had become submissive, almost pleading. “How do you?”

  “Mommie? What is the nasty man talking about?”

  “I’m sorry, Sammie.” Jessica looked broken as she began to explain. “When I met Joseph I was just a young woman and he was always away at his father’s beck and call. I was often lonely.”

  “I think I see where this is going,” Tim commented.

  “I used to go to bars,” Jessica admitted. “Sometimes I…I used to pick up men and bring them home.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “But it was hardly ever. Once in a blue moon.”

  “It was often enough for you to get pregnant by another man,” said Mike spitefully.

  “Who was it?” Angela asked. “Who is Sammie’s real father?”

  Jessica took a breath and tried to compose herself. “Joseph was Sammie’s real father. He raised my son. If you mean who was the biological father, then I’m ashamed to admit it was a stranger.” Jessica had recovered from her emotional shock and now sounded defiant as she spoke. Obviously she did not appreciate having her dirty laundry spilt. “I met the man only once. He was just some charmer with an Irish accent, but I couldn’t resist. I forget his name now, but he seduced me in minutes and had me in bed before the hour was through. I fell pregnant and that was the last time I ever cheated on Joseph. The shame has never left me, though.”

  Angela patted her on the back. “We all commit sin, Jessica. It’s whether or not we repent that truly matters.”

  Mike sniggered. “Oh, I don’t think you’d be so forgiving if you knew the full story.”

  “Let my son go!” Jessica demanded. She took a step forward and pointed her finger. “You’re finished, Mike. By the time I’m through with you, you won’t be able to show your face in public ever again. You’re lucky I don’t have you killed.”

  Mike chuckled. “Now that sounds more like the Jessica I know. Black Remedy would be ecstatic to hear you talking like that.”

  Jessica stared daggers at him. “Those days are over. My husband was dedicated to cleaning up that company, and I am going to finish what he started.”

  “Think you might find some opposition there, like from your precious son. The company will be his one day and you can trust me when I tell you Sammie’s methods are going to differ from yours and Joseph’s.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mike, but you have three seconds to let go of my son before I come over there and rip your face off.”

  Mike wrapped his arm tighter around Sammie’s neck a
nd pointed the knife at Jessica. “You stay back, bitch!”

  “What did you call me?”

  “I called you a bitch. The only reason you’re anything is because you sucked off a rich guy good enough that he married you.”

  “How dare you!” Jessica ran at Mike with her fingernails outstretched like claws.

  Mike threw Sammie against the bar. His head cracked against the thick wooden surface. Then Mike readied himself for Jessica’s attack, legs apart, shoulders wide, knife pointed out in front of him. Their bodies collided in a flurry of limbs. Jessica’s nails swiped furiously at Mike’s face, drawing blood, but Mike just snarled angrily. “You’re the one who’s finished, bitch!”

  Suddenly Jessica’s ferocity diminished and he attack faltered. Her flailing arms fell to her sides and she stumbled against the bar. Blood mushroomed through her blouse, emanating from a spot mere inches above her heart.

  Angela put both hands over her mouth and struggled to take a breath.

  Mike still clutched the combat knife in his hands, but now it was dripping with Jessica’s blood.

  Jessica reached out a hand to Angela despite being several feet away. Angela didn’t know why, but she couldn’t help herself from reaching back to the woman, as if she could somehow stretch her limbs and pull Jessica to her. But instead, Jessica slumped to the ground, on her side, and bled out on the floor.

  Angela stared down at Jessica’s body in disbelief. “Mike, what have you done?”

  “What I needed to. Now I’m going to end this whole fucking mess. Screw the Black Strand, screw this house, and most of all, screw this kid.” Mike wiped the combat knife off on his clothing and then looked at Sammie. The boy was unconscious on the floor from where he had hit his head on the bar. Mike strolled over to him and held the knife with the tip pointing downwards. “Time to die, bastard.”

  Angela screamed out, but it was too late. She would never make it over to Mike in time to keep him from delving the knife into Sammie’s soft torso. He was going to kill the boy.

  Mike raised the knife above his head.

  Then he plunged it down hard.

  An explosion rang out behind Angela that funnelled in through her ears and filled her skull. It left her unable to hear anything but ringing.

  Mike’s knife fell to the ground, skittering across the tiles. It never reached its target. The look on his face was stunned surprise. A small well of blood formed in the very centre of his chest. Then another explosion sounded and part of his head disappeared. His lifeless body tumbled to the floor.

  Frank pushed past Angela and made his way across the piano lounge until he was standing right over Mike’s body. He fired the gun one more time, finishing off what was left of the dead man’s head.

  After a few seconds passed, during which time Frank stared silently at the remains of the man he’d just killed, he finally turned around. Before he said anything, though, he slumped against the nearest table and fell onto his knees. Frank was hurt, but before he collapsed completely, he was able to say one thing. “Can’t leave you people alone for a minute.”

  CHAPTER THRTY-SEVEN

  Angela and Tim managed to prop Frank up on a chair. He was woozy but still conscious. Angela placed a hand against his cheek. It was like a block of ice. “Frank, what happened to you?”

  Frank’s eyelids fluttered. “Car crash. I flipped into a ditch. Got out before the whole thing went up in flames.”

  Tim poured him a scotch from a bottle on the table. “It’s a miracle you’re alive. How did you get back here?”

  “Walked.”

  “You walked?” Tim asked incredulously. “You got up and walked home after flipping your car into a ditch?”

  Frank nodded weakly. “I was…seeing things. I just started walking. I didn’t even know where I was going, but somehow I ended up back here.”

  “Good thing, too,” Tim said, looking down at Mike’s bloodied corpse. “You saved the day.”

  Frank creased his brow as if he had a headache. “What the hell was Mike doing? Why was he trying to hurt Samuel?”

  “I don’t know,” Angela admitted truthfully. “He just lost it. Stabbed Jessica and was going to do the same to her son.”

  Frank’s bloodshot eyes went wide. “He stabbed Jessica?” He leapt up from the chair and scanned the darkened room. When his gaze fell upon Jessica’s body beside the bar, he flung himself down beside her. He cradled her limp form in his arms. “Jessica! Jessica, wake up.”

  Angela stepped over Mike’s body and crouched down beside Frank. “She’s gone. I’m sorry.”

  “No, she’s not,” Frank growled. “We just need to get help.”

  Angela put a hand on his shoulder and tried to ease him away, but he was having none of it. He ignored her like she was a pestering fly. Tenderly, he placed his hand against Jessica’s cheek.

  Jessica’s eyes opened.

  She coughed, spluttered. Flecks of blood spewed out of her mouth.

  Frank shuddered visibly with relief. “Jessica! Thank God. We’re going to get you help. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

  Jessica’s eyes were dilated and it was hard to tell exactly what she was seeing – if she was seeing anything at all. “Frank,” she muttered. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. It’s me.”

  “I can’t feel anything.”

  “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get help. Try not to talk.”

  Angela knew that no help would get there quick enough. Jessica might be alive right now, but the seconds were ticking down on her existence. Angela could already hear the chain stoking of her lungs. The woman would be dead within minutes.

  Jessica’s pupils were like pinpricks as they looked up at Frank. “F-Frank…listen to me.” Frank seemed to realise that their time together was short. He stayed quiet as Jessica spoke her final words to him. “Promise me you will look after Sammie. Promise me….”

  Frank blinked away tears. The emotion seemed out of place on his strong, angular face. “I promise you, Jessica,” he vowed. “I swear to you that I will always keep him safe.”

  There was silence as they all waited for Jessica’s next words, but they never came. Angela placed her hand back on Frank’s shoulder. This time he allowed himself to be pulled away. “I’m sorry, Frank. She’s in a better place now.”

  Frank said nothing.

  Angela looked down at Jessica and thought that the woman finally seemed at peace. Since Angela arrived at the house, Jessica had been deeply troubled. At least now her troubles were over.

  “Hey,” said Tim, breaking the silence. “How did you get inside the house, Frank?”

  Frank shrugged, as if the question was stupid. “How do you think? I came in through the front door.”

  Angela and Tim looked at one another. She knew they were both thinking the same thing. This was their chance to escape. As much as Angela wanted to stay and help Sammie, right now they needed to reach the authorities. They couldn’t fail to report the presence of three dead bodies.

  “Come on,” said Tim. “We can finally get out of here.”

  Angela didn’t argue. She and Tim hurried out of the piano lounge and back into the foyer. Frank stayed behind with Jessica, cradling her in his arms and whispering things that were known only to him and God.

  In the foyer, Angela faced an amazing sight: the front door was hanging wide open. They were finally free of this infernal house. We can finally get out of here before anybody else is hurt.

  Tim grabbed Angela’s arm. “Come on,” he said.

  They sprinted towards the door, the fresh air outside a simple yet irresistible goal.

  Angela hadn’t realised how much she’d wanted out of the house until now. The thought of hurtling down the front steps and onto the driveway felt like a veil of malignant oppression lifting. She would return to help Sammie, but right now she needed to get the hell out of Raymeady Manor. They needed to regroup.

  Angela picked up speed, her feet crac
king down on the marble floor, each step taking her agonisingly closer to freedom. In only a few seconds she would be outside, breathing fresh air. Just a few more steps.

  Angela reached out for the door just as it slammed shut. She couldn’t stop her sprint in time and went hurtling into it, bashing one elbow and both her knees against the thick wood. She bounced back and skidded along the marble on her back. Tim went over the top of her and they ended up on the floor together. For a moment the two of them just lay there, stunned.

  “What the fuck?” Tim shouted angrily as he struggled back to his feet. He extended a hand to Angela and helped her back to her feet. Then he went over to the door.

  “It’s sealed again, isn’t it?” Angela said, already knowing the answer.

  Tim tried the door handle, rattled it, shook it. Kicked it, begged it. He turned around and looked at her, his skin ghostly pale in the moonlight. “Yeah, it’s locked. Looks like we’re still stuck here.”

  “Too bad Mike is dead. If there was one person that knew what was going on here it was him.”

  Tim nodded. “He was pretty convinced that Sammie was involved, too, but I guess we’ve already come to that conclusion.”

  “He mentioned Joseph not being Sammie’s real father. You think maybe it has something to do with Black Remedy? Maybe they killed Joseph and had Mike kill Jessica so that Sammie would inherit the company. Then they could prove he was illegitimate and take the shares away from him.”

  Tim frowned. “You think this whole thing is just some sort of power play?”

  “Maybe. The whole house could be rigged. Mike could have been controlling everything that’s happened. There might not be anything unnatural going on at all. Maybe we’ve been played.”

  Tim seemed to like the idea. It was no doubt within his usual realms of being a ghost hunter/debunker. He latched onto the idea and ran with it. “Yeah, and the front door could be on electronically controlled hinges. It’s being held shut mechanically. After what we’ve seen here, I have to admit that the supernatural is a possibility, but I’m still happier to look for the rational explanation and this seems like it. I bet that arsehole, Graham, was in on the whole thing, too, as Mike’s partner. Don’t ask me where he got the whole backwards man costume from, but enough money can get you anything. But that doesn’t explain the Ouija board or the glass shards making messages in the TV room. Also, what part are we supposed to play in all this? Why do we need to be here if the plan was just to eliminate Sammie’s parents?”