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

I was no stranger to seedy bars and devious people. In my youth, I spent a good few years in these places, learning the enemy and how they operated. Coming back to one now, though, made me sick.

With every step I took, I felt like there was a target on my back. That one of these scumballs would recognize me as the cop that put their partner away. The feeling never faded, not for a second. I stayed on high alert, and I could see that Aaron followed the same path. Hands ready to draw our weapons and fight our way out of the front door if the need arose.

That was one thing I could commend Aaron for, at least. He was ready and willing to die for the good fight. Too many people liked the title or held down the role of a police officer, only to cower at the first sign of danger. But Aaron wasn’t a police officer, not by heart.

He was like me in some ways, a vigilante that wanted to see the world turn into a better place. Keeping him behind a desk, for his own safety and my peace of mind, never showed that side. But having him out in the field as a partner taught me to respect the kid.

“Excuse me,” I gestured over to a barwoman, who hurried over to Aaron and me.

“Yes, sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said. “You can see how busy the place is.”

“No bother,” I replied, giving her a smile. I lit a cigarette while speaking with her. “I’ve actually got a few questions I wanted to ask you.”

“Look, sir, I ain’t here to go home with you tonight. I’m just doing my job,” she groaned. There were many drunk and rowdy men here—I wasn’t surprised that she elicited many such reactions.

“I’m not here to take you home. Not that you’re not lovely, but I’m a detective working an active case. I was hoping you’d be able to answer a few questions for me,” I replied. If anything, I had to think the bartenders wouldn’t have any ties with the criminals here.

“Huh,” she nodded her head. “Takes a lot of balls for a cop to walk into this place.”

“Well, I’m not a cop. I’m a private investigator,” I replied. “Look, I don’t really care what goes on in here or what these fine people are doing. I’m looking for a man… wears a mask most of the time.”

“Lots of people wear masks in here. Keeping their identity hidden is a pretty key part to their… line of work,” she replied.

“It’s ivory, old-looking,” I said. An instant glint in her eye let me know that she knew who I was talking about.

“You talking about that freak that calls himself the Witch Hunter Sergeant or some shit?” she replied.

“That’s the man I’m looking for, yes.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve obviously seen him around. Comes in here looking for guys mostly. They’re usually the big kind or thieving kind. I know a couple of ‘em, but I don’t know nothing about that Witchy guy,” she said.

“Okay, and is he here tonight?”

The barwoman scanned the crowd, looking both up and down the staircase. Shaking her head, I knew it was a dead end.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without that mask on, so I couldn’t tell you if he is or isn’t,” she replied. “I’m sorry I can’t help much.”

“No, no, thank you for your time,” I said.

Aaron and I spent another good few hours in the Salty Oyster. I drank water instead of beer, focusing on the people that entered and exited. There was no point in trying to hide any suspicious activity. If I managed to find him there, everything went back to normal, and I’d have concluded another harrowing case.

But as time went on and the bar started to empty, I knew we were out of luck, and so did Aaron.

“I don’t think he’s coming tonight,” Aaron said, eyeing the crowd around the bar.

“Yup,” I sighed, looking around the room one last time. We were reaching midnight. If we didn’t see him then, I didn’t think the Witchfinder General would appear anytime after.

But I didn’t feel deflated. This was a slow burn, and we’d come back the next night and every night after that until we eventually found him. If this was his hangout, as Granger said, then he’d be here eventually. Of that, I had to be hopeful.

However, I’d soon find out that hope wasn’t enough.

“Let’s get out of here. We can try again tomorrow,” I threw a handful of dollar notes on the table, getting out of my chair. I half expected to be jumped on my way out, but the second we broke the smoke-filled Salty Oyster, drawing fresh air into our lungs, I felt relieved.

New York was a 45-minute drive from the Oyster. We got on the road within seconds, taking the turn on the highway and driving into the night.

“You think he’s ever going to show? He knows who we are, right? What if the Witchfinder’s got tabs on us at all times?” Aaron asked, about halfway back to the city.

The thought never crossed my mind.

“You think he was in there the whole time?” I groaned.

“I do. Thought about it while we were sitting at the bar. He could’ve been there, watching us, and we wouldn’t have ever known,” Aaron sounded despondent. Who could blame him?

“Well, then he knows we’re on his trail, and it’s only a matter of time until we catch him,” I said, feeling a shot of pride burst through my core.

“And what if this is what sets him off?” Aaron replied.

Just as he said those words, my phone began to ring. Through the Bluetooth system installed in my car, I answered it with a click