BURDEN OF AN ANCIENT OATH, Joshua Brown [books like beach read .txt] 📗

and I will go out, while you stay down here. And we’ll keep going until this is over.”

Chapter 26

The Witchfinder General

I saw you there, Detective Mercer, entering my place of business. The way you held your calm, relaxed, collected attitude when standing amid criminals. Of course, your safety lay within your anonymity. These men had no idea who you were, nor do they care for your existence.

They’re here, looking for work.

But are you so different than me? It was only the night before that you shot a man down in your home. Your badge protected you, saved you from the cold stone walls of a prison cell. What would've happened to anyone else in your position?

Now, you’re here, in my domain, stalking through the crowd. But you didn’t know it then, did you? That you were too late, and soon enough, the families, the monsters you wished to protect, were about to die? While you stay on this end of the world, trying to find me, I’d be doing exactly what you sought to stop.

A gleeful giggle escaped me.

Drawing my phone from my pocket, I made a call. It rang once before the voice came on the other end. “Hey, boss, what’s going on?”

“Meet me at the Williamson home, no later than an hour,” I replied.

“You want us to bring guns this time? We don’t want a rehash of what happened to Granger and the boys,” he said.

I contemplated his question. The Order of the Phoenix, through its illustrious career, never used guns, but I supposed that wasn’t the worst idea. These thugs weren’t there to purify the world, they were there to defend me while I completed the Lord’s work.

“Yes, bring guns,” I said with a sigh. “But it all ends tonight, boys. There’s no need to worry.”

~

The lights were off in Spencer Williamson’s home when I arrived. I saw my crew’s black van outside, a few houses down as I drove up. Knowing their roles, they were no doubt scoping out the house by the time I arrived, waiting in the shadows and preparing to breach. Pulling my mask out from the backseat, collecting my cane, I made my way towards the abode.

Slow, drawn-out steps from the street, by the white picket fence and to the front door. With every step I took, one by one, my team emerged behind me. There were five of us once more. More than anything else, it was an annoyance that Granger and his band of misfits failed their task on the detective. A savage beating was all I asked them to deliver, and their failure ensured that he came back with a vengeance.

If this was to end, it had to be tonight. They were getting too close, and I had an objective to accomplish.

The front door was locked, which was expected, but I had a key cut when I first found out that Spencer was linked to the Crossley family. Long before I made any signs of a threat, I made sure to follow them, know them, and have every detail of their lives mapped. I acted just as my father before me, hunting the Crossley’s. Our long-standing family tradition, ridding the world of sin, would never end.

Not until every last offspring of the devil himself was stripped from this world.

“Everyone’s good on what they have to do, right?” I asked.

“Sure are,” Andrew Thomas replied. He held a sawn-off shotgun in his hand, resting it atop his shoulder.

Back in the Order’s prime, we had no need to hire thugs. When my father held the position of Witchfinder General, there was an overflow of like-minded people standing against tyranny. But not a generation later, only despair grew among our ranks. I was the last remaining son of a man who dedicated his life to freedom and peace for all, and I’d never let Detective Jack Mercer get in the way of that.

“Andrew, I’d like you to come with me while the rest of you go off and find the children. Bring them all to the living room,” I said. “Once they’re all bound, I’d like you to leave and make your way out to Jane Dench. I’ll finish business here and meet you once I’m done.”

“Got it, boss,” came the murmurs of the crew.

We entered the Williamson home, not bothering to search the house. We made our way straight upstairs. The crew scattered once we got upstairs, either making their way to the children’s rooms or clearing bathrooms while they walked. Andrew and I made our way to the master bedroom. He kept his gun in his hands, hidden beneath the length of the extended robe that ran down his arms.

I walked without a car, tapping my cane against the ground with every step.

They never woke up, not while we ascended the staircase, nor when we opened the door. Spencer Williamson and his wife, Caroline, snored peacefully, even through the sound of the TV that remained on.

“Spencer,” I called, tapping him on the forehead with the bottom of my cane. “Spencer, it’s time to wake up.”

He shot up at the rude awakening. I couldn’t see his eyes, but both he and Caroline burst out into a terrible screech the moment Andrew flicked on the light.

“I’d advise you against screaming,” Andrew said, showing them the double barrel in his hands. Both Caroline and Spencer stopped, now only cowering. From down the hall, the children were soon to follow in their bellowing before the crew silenced them.

“Wh-who are you?” Spencer asked, making some distance between us and huddling against the wall.

“They call me the Witchfinder General, and I’m here to rid the world of your sin,” I replied.

“On your feet,” Andrew said, gesturing with the barrel of the shotgun that they get up and off the bed. Neither Spencer nor Caroline