The Final Act (The House of Jack the Ripper Book 8)

by Amy Cross

  Copyright 2017 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

  First published: November 2017

  Five years after she escaped from the house of Jack the Ripper, Maddie thinks she's put her troubles in the past. She's started a new life, and she tries every day to forget about the horrors she experienced. But then a familiar figure appears at her office, and she realizes old ghosts might still be waiting for her.

  Soon Maddie learns the horrifying truth about the creature she freed from the basement, and about the creature's determination to return to this world. Drawn back to the house on Cathmore Road one final time, Maddie finally has to face not only the creature itself, but also her own role in a terrifying plot.

  The Final Act is the eighth and final book in a new horror serial, titled The House of Jack the Ripper.

  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

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  The Final Act

  (The House of Jack the Ripper book 8)

  Prologue

  Hundreds of years ago

  “Smile!” he laughs, as he slams his knee into my face and sends me crashing back down into the long grass.

  Even before I land, I can feel a searing pain running from my eye-socked all the way down to my jaw. Something's broken, and the pain increases a thousand times as I try to cry out. In fact I think half my face, the left half, is completely shattered. I can feel hundreds of bone shards slicing against one another beneath my torn skin, and finally I manage to let out a faint, agonized moan.

  Above me, a figure steps into view, silhouetted against the clear blue sky.

  “Oh, are you bleeding?” he asks, before kicking me hard in the leg.

  I try to pull away, but I succeed only in rolling onto my side. My legs are already broken anyway, below the knees and above the ankles. The pain is intense, but at the same time I hurt so much – all over – that all I can do is stay on the ground and shiver and wait for someone to rescue me.

  At least I know I won't die.

  “You're bleeding a lot,” the man says, stepping around me. “Whoever knew that little girls had so much blood in them, huh? I'd've thought you'd be harder to make bleed, but actually you're easier than most people. Maybe it's your skin. Maybe you're just so ripe and so flesh, you split open like a peach.”

  He pauses, before crouching next to me.

  “Not so mouthy now, are you?” he continues. “What's wrong, little girl? Lost your tongue? You were yelling at me a few minutes ago, calling me all sorts of names under the sun. What changed?”

  I try to open my mouth to tell him to go to hell, but my broken jaw won't let me. Instead, I feel a piece of bone slicing through my flesh just below my left ear.

  “You're starting to bore me,” the man says with a sigh. “We've had some fun together this morning, haven't we? Yeah, we've really laughed and danced and made each other feel good, but now you're getting boring and that's the biggest sin in my book. If you're gonna stay boring, little girl, I might as well get moving and find myself another friend at the next village along. Is that what you want?”

  Suddenly he touches my shoulder. I shriek and push him away, but I can already hear him laughing as I curl back into the tightest ball I can manage. At the same time, thick globs of blood start oozing out between my broken teeth and dribble down onto the grass.

  “Okay,” he mutters, “I can take a hint. This little morning of fun is over, isn't it?”

  A moment later I hear him fumbling for something in his clothes, and I turn just in time to see him taking a long, wide-bladed knife from his coat pocket. The blade is scratched and dented, with dark stains on the metal, as if it's been used many, many times before. I immediately try to pull away, but too many bones in my body have been shattered and broken.

  At least I know one thing.

  I'm not going to die.

  I refuse to die.

  I can't die.

  I've always known that.

  “Now you've been a real little peach,” the man says as he takes hold of me by the shoulders and pulls me up until I'm resting against his lip. He leans down and leers at me. “One of the better girls I've ever had the pleasure of taking pleasure from. So here's my promise to you. I'm going to make this quick and easy. It won't be drawn out or anything like that.” He holds the blade up so I can see the cuts and dents. “There'll be as little pain as possible.”

  “No,” I gurgle, spraying blood onto my lips in the process.

  “No?” he replies.

  “No...”

  He chuckles, before reaching past me and picking something up from the ground. He holds up a piece of fruit.

  “Another peach, huh?” he mutters. “I must have dropped that. These things aren't cheap, you know. They're exotic! I bet you'd never even tasted a peach until you met me, huh? Some Spaniards brought them to port and I got myself a bunch. Stole them, naturally, and now they're going off a little. Slightly rotten. Have you ever tasted a peach, little girl?”

  “Leave me alone,” I try to say, but I don't think I manage to get the words out.

  “Here, have one on me.” He presses the fruit against my lips, forcing the mulch into my mouth. The taste is strong, almost overwhelming as it mixes with the taste of blood. “Do you like that?” he asks. “A little taste of the exotic for you. You don't get peaches growing in Suffolk, do you?”

  I try to spit the fruit out, but I can't quite manage. The taste is getting more and more intense, mixing with blood and dribbling back down my throat. I start sobbing, but this only cause my face to shake and the pain to return.

  “So like I said,” the man continues, reaching down and placing the blade against my neck, “I'll make this quick for you. Really quick. It won't take you long to die at all.”

  “I won't die!” I splutter, spraying blood against his face.

  “What was that?”

  “I can't die!” I gasp. “I won't! I refuse!”

  “Is that right?” he asks.

  “That's right,” I tell him. “I've always known I won't die! You can do anything to me and it won't work!”

  “It won't, huh?” He chuckles. “Is that how you stopped yourself being scared? By telling yourself it'd never happen to you?” He starts laughing. “That's clever, kid. It's real clever. If there's anything on the other side of this life, anything at all, I hope you get to start laughing about it yourself some time.”

  “I won't die,” I reply, “I won't, I can't, I -”

  Suddenly he slashes the knife across my throat. I pull back and let out a bloodied cry as I feel the ragged blade tear through my skin, and instantly something warm starts rushing from the wound and spraying against the underside of my chin. I turn my head slightly, causing blood to spray up against the man's face, but he ducks out of the way as my body starts convulsing violently. I try to roll to my
side, but the man puts his arms around my chest and pulls me closer, holding me tight almost as if he's cradling me.

  “Rest in peace, little angel,” he whispers, as he starts kissing the side of my head. “Just a few more seconds now and it'll all be over.”

  I try to tell him that I won't die, but I can't get the words out. Blood is still pouring from my slashed throat, and for a moment I try to lean down and drink it back in so that I don't lose too much. When that doesn't work, I slump back again and now all I can do is stare up at the sky until finally the man leans over me, blocking the blue.

  “There you go,” he says with a smile. “Pretty little thing, aren't you? Even like this.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “It's always a privilege to watch a life end. Sail off, little girl, into whatever grace and peace comes next. I promise I won't do too many nasty things to your body before I dump you somewhere.”

  “I refuse,” I gurgle, bringing more blood into my throat. “I can't die. I'll... find a way... back... and...”

  And then I close my eyes.

  When I open them again, a vast wall of dirt and grit blasts against my face and I scream as I try to hold tight. I don't know here I am, but I know one thing that I've always known: I refuse to die!

  Chapter One

  Maddie

  Today

  I tell myself that I'm wrong, that this is another hallucination, that I've finally lost my mind. All of those possibilities are preferable to what I'm seeing. But then she steps fully into view, stopping for a moment next to Jerry and staring at me. There are tears in her eyes, and she looks terrified, but at the same time she seems to have walked down here without being forced. And it's her. It's really her, I can't deny that. She's trembling as she stares at me and she looks truly horrified, almost as if she doesn't quite know where she is. All I can do is remain frozen in place until finally one solitary word slips from my lips:

  “Mum?”

  It's her.

  My mother's here.

  “Mum?” I whisper again, before pulling back until I bump against the cold stone pillar. I start shaking my head, still unable to believe what I'm seeing. At the same time, tears are streaming down my face and my shoulders are starting to shake. The pain in my belly is getting worse and worse, and the taste of peaches is so strong now that I'm starting to gag. And yet all this pain seems to have faded into the background for a moment as I stare – disbelieving and horrified – at the sight of my mother standing before me.

  A moment later, I feel something bumping against my shoulder from behind.

  “You're the one,” the old woman says, reaching out and stroking the side of my face. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “You're so young. I was young once, before I entered this body. Before my throat was cut open in that meadow, I was young, even younger than you. And now you're going to help me live again, because I can't die. I refuse to die. I always knew I'd find a way back.”

  “No,” I stammer, pushing her away before turning to look at Mum again. “This can't be real. None of this can be happening.”

  Staring at Mum, I wait for her to explain everything, for her to tell me that it's all going to be okay. Until this moment I thought I could handle it all, I thought I could finally figure out what's real and what's not, but right now everything is crashing down around me and I'm lost. I don't know where Matt is and I don't know what's wrong with Jerry and I don't know why this old woman is talking to me like she knows who I am, and I don't know why I'm seeing ghosts, and I don't know how I've survived getting my guts ripped open, and most of all I don't know why my mother is here. All I want is for her to stop being crazy for once so that she can make everything better again.

  “Maddie,” she says finally, staring at me with an expression of pure shock. “What are you doing here?”

  Chapter Two

  Maddie

  Five years later

  “So those are the main changes the client wants to the campaign,” Richard says, leaning back in his squeaking office chair. “We need to implement the changes before the weekend so we can monitor the metrics with a good lead-in for Monday. So now you've got the facts, does anyone have any questions?”

  I glance over at Tom and Abbie. They don't look particularly happy, being told to make such huge changes with barely any time to draw breath, but it's not as if any of us can refuse. As I'm starting to learn, this kind of crazy last-minute panic is par for the course.

  A moment later I look past my colleagues and see the stunning view of London. From up here on the twenty-eighth floor, I can see St. Paul's and the London Eye and so many skyscrapers reaching up toward the gray clouds. I can barely see the streets between them at all.

  “Maddie?”

  Startled, I turn back to see that Richard is now staring at me. Did I zone out? Did I miss something important?

  “Do you foresee any problems?” he continues, furrowing his brow slightly. “You've been quite quiet during the meeting so far.”

  “There won't be any problems,” I reply, before picking up my cup of coffee and taking a sip. My throat is suddenly so dry, I feel as if something's scratching the back of my tongue. “If the changes have to be made by the weekend, then the changes will be made by the weekend. I mean, that's just how it is.”

  I wait for him to reply, but everyone is simply staring at me.

  “Isn't it?” I add cautiously.

  “That's the kind of attitude I like to hear,” Richard says finally, before turning to the others. “So what are you waiting for? Get back to your desks and fix this ad campaign. By Monday I want a happy client on the phone. Seems to me, you three don't have a spare second, so one of you needs to stockpile the coffee and Red Bulls, and then you'd better get to work. I'm counting on you, guys, so don't let me down.”

  We immediately get to our feet. Tom and Abbie are already mumbling about getting straight to work, although I'm pretty sure that what they'll actually do is go straight to lunch. They'll claim they need to brainstorm, but in truth they'll just spend a couple of hours in the pub complaining about Richard before coming back and hoping that I've come up with something. The worst part is that I will have come up with something, because as the newest member of the team I've got the most to prove. And the most to lose.

  “We should brainstorm,” Tom says as the three of us head to the door. “Maddie, I'm going to grab a coffee with Abbie so we can figure out some ideas. Are you okay to hold the fort?”

  He holds the door open and Abbie steps through. I follow, already trying to figure out precisely how we're going to get this ad campaign changed. My mind is racing and I don't have any ideas right now, but we've been in tighter spots than this before and we were just fine.

  Stressed, but fine.

  “Sure,” I say, still lost in my thoughts, “but I think -”

  Suddenly I slam into the back of Abbie, who stopped abruptly right in front of me. My coffee cup bumps against my chest, and lukewarm coffee spills all down the front of my white shirt.

  “Oh,” Abbie says, “I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were so close behind me.”

  “That's okay,” I reply, forcing myself to smile even though I really didn't need this right now. “I'll stay behind while you guys get coffee. By the time you're back, hopefully I'll have some leads on the printing and stuff.”

  “You're a life-saver, Maddie,” Abbie replies, patting me on the shoulder before turning to walk away with Tom. “I don't know what we used to do without you. Best intern ever!”

  ***

  “You're a life-saver, Maddie,” I mutter under my breath as I set my coffee-soaked shirt down next to the bathroom sink. Abbie's words are still ringing in my ears. “I don't know what we used to do without you.”

  Opening my satchel, I take out the spare shirt I always bring to work. I never thought I'd actually need to change clothes midway through the day, but right now I'm glad I at least came prepared.

  “Maybe you actually used to work,” I say with a sigh
, “instead of taking epic lunch breaks and leaving all the hard stuff to other people.”

  I shouldn't complain.

  I don't want to be the kind of person who complains all the time.

  I know how lucky I am to even have this opportunity.

  I start unfolding the fresh shirt, while glancing at my watch. If I change quickly, I can be back at my desk within a couple of minutes. I won't have time to go and get anything for lunch, but that's okay. I'll just power through on apple slices and Red Bull and then I'll -

  Suddenly the door opens and I turn, startled, to see Abbie coming through. She stops as soon as she spots me, but I'm too slow to cover my belly. Abbie's eyes stare down at my twisted, scarred skin, and I know it's too late. I still hold my shirt over the worst of the scars, but I'm already waiting for the inevitable questions.

  “Hey,” she says cautiously, her voice filled with uncertainty, “um... Sorry, I just wanted to wash my hands before I... go to the... um...”

  Now her voice trails off, and she seems completely shocked by what she saw.

  I want to put my shirt on, but to do that I'd have to let her see the scars again. Even if I turn around, she'll still see the scars on my back. What I really need is for her to just leave, but instead she seems frozen in place.

  “What happened to you?” she asks finally.

  “Nothing,” I reply quickly.

  Too quickly.

  “But you're all...”

  She cranes her neck slightly, as if she's hoping to get a better view.

  “Did you, like...”

  Again, her voice trails off.

  “It's nothing,” I tell her. “I just... I had an accident once. Something happened. I mean, I got hurt, but it's all healed now.”

  “It is?”

  She wrinkles her nose, as if she's disgusted. I can't say I entirely blame her; after all, my belly looks like it was ripped apart and then stuffed back together. Which, to be fair, isn't too far from the truth.