BURDEN OF AN ANCIENT OATH by Joshua Brown (best fiction novels to read txt) 📗

On the far left of the eight-seater dining room table, Lance, Jane, and the children sat. Their hands were out on top of it, palms down. None of them looked restrained or bound in any way. On the far right, at the head of the table, only a single man sat. His head was tilted, and he was dressed in a maroon robe.

A devilish smile clung to his lips.

When we made our way over from the office, I expected the worst. But what I was greeted with was well beyond me. Jane said many people were approaching her home, but to find only one sitting here dumbfounded me.

What the hell was going on? Who the hell were they, and what did they want with this family? At least we had one, and we’d get him into custody soon enough.

“Good evening, detective,” the man said.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked, lifting my gun in his direction.

“I am but a humble acolyte of the Witchfinder General. A humble servant to the Lord Almighty,” he replied. I could only see his lips moving beneath the hood of his robe. His hands were tucked beneath the table.

“You are under arrest—” I started.

“There’s no reason to make these threats, detective,” the man cut me off. “I am not here to harm this family, nor am I here to hurt you either. Your time will come, and so will theirs. Patience is a virtue sorely lacked by the modern world.”

With his hands under the table, I was hesitant to approach. For all I knew, this could’ve been some attempt to throw me off guard while he had a gun pointed at one of the Dench’s, ready to fire. I wasn’t going to take that risk.

“Then what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Please, won’t you have a seat?” He rose one hand out from beneath the table and gestured it to an empty chair beside Jane’s daughter.

I obliged, still not knowing what waited beneath the table.

“You’ve been a thorn in our side, detective. Far too long now, have you run rampant and stood against the Order. We have watched and we have seen. The prophet and seer, Oscar Carlisle, is stuck behind your lock and key, but you don’t see his vision. You don’t see his potential,” the man spoke.

“Oscar Carlisle is a sick man that needs help,” I replied.

I set my weapon down, knowing that Aaron had it covered if anything happened. This was my opportunity to get more information on this case, and I wasn’t going to pass it up by being too hostile.

“And what about you, detective?” he asked, tilting his head towards me. “What makes you any different than us?”

“I-I don’t follow,” I replied, cocking a brow.

“Do you not stand to clear the evil from this world? Are you not on the side of good versus evil?”

“I stand to uphold the law, yes,” I replied.

“Then what’s different between us? The Order of the Phoenix believes in fighting for a better future by ridding the world of...” the man paused, turning back towards the Dench family. With a snarl, he finished his sentence, “By ridding the world of scum.”

“These are normal people trying to live their lives in peace, and you are standing in the way of that,” I tried to reason.

“Is it your badge that gives you the delusion that all your actions are justified?” he asked again, his tone back to the oddly sinister voice it was before directly addressing the Dench’s. “What is a badge if not just a title? And what is a title if not created by man? What gives you the right to hold dominion over ordinary people?”

He paused. I opened my mouth to speak, but he rose a single finger in the air to silence me.

“The title of Witchfinder General greatly precedes that of detective. We have stood together for centuries, fighting a holy war against the unknown, and you wish to bring that to a close so soon? Detective Mercer, do you understand how foolish this all sounds?” the man chuckled, shaking his head.

“And who is the Witchfinder General?” I asked in hopes that this delusional man would let something slip without realizing he did so.

“He is our savior,” he replied. “He is the word of reason and the sword of God. He will vanquish the evil that resides within this home and return us to a world of purity.”

“Why’s he not here tonight?”

“Because sacrifices must be made,” a low sigh left his lips. “But I cannot be upset about what I must do, for it’s the most wonderful honor of all. I must cleanse this house in blood.”

“I don’t understand,” I turned to Aaron, who shrugged his shoulders, never breaking line of sight with the man.

“Soon enough, you will, detective. Soon enough.”

Suddenly, the man got up from his chair. His arms were by his side, the long robe stretching out well beyond his hands. All I wanted to know was if he had a weapon, and he never once allowed me to see.

“The unholy sin that dwells in this home will be vanquished at the hands of the almighty,” the man spoke. “I will lead you into anew, and with my blood, so too will the light of God shine upon you.”

Rolling his shoulders back, the robe dropped to the ground. Getting a good view of him, he was tall, thin, pale, and bald. There were no scars, no bruises, and no tattoos on his skin—it was almost pristine if not transparent from an almost sickly-looking man. His sharp blue eyes carried a weight of sorrow behind them. His gaunt face, a testament to the twisted life he lived.

But, as expected, in his hand, he clutched a knife with an ivory handle. The steel was intricately carved with