BURDEN OF AN ANCIENT OATH Page 8

  “That’s me, yes.”

  He rose from his chair, extending a hand in my direction. “Lance Dench, a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Dench,” I took his hand, shook it, and joined him at the table.

  “And this is your… wife?” he inquired, greeting Gwen.

  “Partner,” I replied. “She’s working on Spencer’s case, and the reason all of this is kicking off today.”

  After the remainder of our greeting, ordering drinks, and relaxing for a moment, I saw him enter from the corner of my eye. He was tall with scruffy black hair and a beautiful brunette by his side. He was desperately pale, and the weeks of stress that had befallen him definitely showed their signs. His wife, Caroline, looked almost as uncomfortable as I did.

  With a server in front of them, Spencer Williamson approached the table cautiously. I could see it in Jane’s eyes, the overspilling emotions of meeting her long-lost sibling all these years later.

  I couldn’t help but look around to see if our drinks were on the way. This wasn’t a place for me. If anything, the siblings should have had this meeting alone. I was just some cop to them, a guy working a case, and being in the middle of some family gathering was a disaster in the making.

  “Spencer?” Jane said, jumping out of her chair.

  “Jane? It’s so nice to finally meet you,” they embraced in a hug.

  Jane burst out into tears and Spencer was soon to follow.

  Gwen had a wide smile on her face throughout the entire situation. For a short time, I could’ve sworn I saw tears in her eyes too.

  I understood then that this wasn’t just about making the most logical play. Gwen was here, reuniting a family that lost each other over 30 years prior. This wasn’t some personal achievement of bringing herself some lost happiness; this was helping those around her through a difficult time.

  I was never the kind of man to bring emotion into my work, and I never would be. It was these personal ventures that ended up in further heartache rather than any true bliss. But sitting there that day, while Spencer and Jane became acquainted, I found happiness myself.

  A twinkle of humanity in a world full of suffering.

  This is why we did it, after all, why we helped those in need. It wasn’t for personal gratification or happiness, but to see normal people being able to go back to the way their lives were. For Jane and Spencer, their lives would never be the same. Not after what happened and the threats they got, or the tragic events of their history.

  “So, what’s really going on here?” I leaned in close, whispering into Gwen’s ear. “You going soft on me?”

  “What? No, never,” Gwen replied. “What makes you think that?”

  She turned towards me, letting the siblings reunite in peace.

  “I don’t know… this doesn’t seem like your style. I never saw you as the type to bring emotions into a case,” I teased, leaning back in my chair.

  “We’re all getting older, Jacky-boy,” she replied, blowing me a kiss. “Sometimes, age brings that soft spot youth overlooks.”

  “And us, here together? You don’t think that’s a sign of something else?” I winked.

  The waitress interrupted us, setting our drinks down on the table. I could hear Gwen laughing behind her.

  “No, I don’t think it’s a sign of anything,” she said when the waitress stepped around the table to set down the other drinks.

  “You know, we still make a pretty kick-ass team, you and me,” I sipped my beer.

  “We always have, that’s why I knew you were the right man to call when facing this little problem,” Gwen replied, bringing her glass to mine to cheers.

  I considered it for a moment, bringing Gwen into my fold. I’d have preferred her back by my side rather than Aaron. Not that he wasn’t going to someday make a great detective, but at least with Gwen Sullivan, I knew she could hold her own. The thought of having her there, working side by side, was exciting.

  And maybe that’s what all this was in some way. But unlike the many others I managed to read in the past, Gwen was a closed book. She left everything to the imagination, giving no signs at all.

  We spent the afternoon with Jane, Spencer, and their partners, laughing and talking as though we were all old friends. For the first time since it started, I could’ve believed the case was solved and this was our celebratory meal.

  But as time ticked on and the check made its way over, I came back down to earth.

  Oscar Carlisle was sitting in an interrogation room waiting for me, and I was eager to crack that egg wide open.

  Chapter 17

  The Witchfinder General

  It was a cold night, unusually so, even for an early autumn evening.

  But with the icy chill of the wind came deathly silence from the streets as I entered Gwen Sullivan’s abode. The lights were off and the house was dark, with only a single car rolling down the long road on which her three-bedroom home stood. After news broke that the detectives managed to arrest my underling, Oscar Carlisle, I knew it was time to get serious.

  They had been running rampant, no matter the Order’s threats against them, and I would not allow it to stand.

  They called me the Witchfinder General, and thus far, I’d completed my duties without a hitch.

  In the still of the night, I found a seat in her living room beside a large window. The curtains were drawn, with Gwen no doubt knowing she wouldn’t be home before nightfall and not wanting to leave them open. How smart of her to ensure no eyes could peer in while she was away.

  I sat still, almost motionless, like a lion on the hunt. The only movement that came, the subtle up and down of my chest from calm breathes drawn. Rarely did I blink, and even more so, make any movement at all.

  That was until I heard her car in the driveway.

  A strange delight filled me, hearing the metallic hum of her garage opening and the vehicle pull inside. Connecting directly with the kitchen, I watched as the door swung open and the light flicked on. Still, I sat, shrouded in darkness.

  “What a good day,” she said to herself, stepping into the light. A smile stretched from ear to ear.

  My curiosity was piqued at the sight of the smile, the reason for her jolly nature, and why her day was so good. I knew someone would be able to tell me soon enough, having followed both her and Jack Mercer for the better part of the afternoon.

  I was surprised to find that Gwen Sullivan had such a lack of awareness. How she managed to walk from one end of the kitchen to the other without spotting me, pouring a glass of wine and drinking it in the kitchen while playing on her phone.

  Just look up, I thought. She’d no doubt have seen my ivory mask, the only color against the pitch-black ensemble. Yet, she never did raise her head nor pay attention to her surroundings. How easy it would’ve been to kill her.

  Had this been a meeting to kill her, that was.

  “Gwen Sullivan,” I finally spoke, growing bored of waiting.

  Within an instant, her wine glass fell to the floor and her pistol was drawn, focusing on my general direction.

  “Who’s there?” she called.

  “I don’t believe there’s any need for a gun,” I said, getting up from my chair. “Nor do I think it’s a good idea, either.”

  Taking my first few steps towards the light, from all around, my acolytes joined me. Hidden in the shadows, all the same as me, they appeared from every door leading into the kitchen. There were five of us in all, none wielding a weapon, all ready to die for our cause.

  “If you’d be so kind, Gwen Sullivan, please do lower your weapon,” her eyes scanned me from head to toe. Realizing that even if she managed to fire off and get even a few of us down, she’d not make it through the night, she holstered her pistol.

  “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in here?’ Gwen demanded, pulling herself as close to the counter as possible.

  “I am the Witchfinder General,” I said. “And you’ve been a naugh
ty girl. You’ve not heeded my warnings nor listened to my pleas of reason, and for it, you will suffer.”

  “I see how it is,” she said, snickering to herself. Her stance almost instantly shifting from scared back to the bravery she displayed with the gun in her hands. “You’re the piece of shit going after Spencer Williamson.”

  I shook my head. “I’m fulfilling an ancient duty to instill order and balance to the world. God has spoken, Gwen Sullivan, and he has given me my obligation. I must rid the world of the vile, the heathens, the scum, and I will stop at nothing to honor his order.”

  “You’re killing innocent people because you’re twisted,” Gwen said, her hand reached for her weapon again. My acolytes approached her, steadily. She wouldn’t clear leather before they grabbed her, and thus, her hand only hovered around the gun.

  “You may believe whatever you wish,” I raised a hand, and all four of them stopped. “But you cannot prevent the inevitable. We will allow God to judge those who have sinned, as I will someday stand before him.”

  “They’re normal people with families and lives. You’re trying to—”

  “And who upholds this normalcy of which you speak? You don’t know what happens behind closed doors, just as I don’t know what would happen if there were no protectors. My order is ancient, Gwen, and it will continue on for eternity, preventing the shadows from rising up and taking control. You’re just too blind to see it,” I cut her off.

  I couldn’t blame her ignorance. She was blind to it all and how the world worked in mysterious ways. I’d gone through the training to see the darkness. People like Jane Dench and Spencer Williamson were disgusting by nature. They were spawned from sin, from evil, and if we let them survive, the world would wither away.

  I didn’t expect her to understand, not in a single evening, but that’s not why I ventured to her home.

  “You know, one would think you’d be more careful of making sure your home was sealed tight before leaving in the mornings,” I said, leaning against a low-hanging kitchen cabinet. “It’s never good to be home alone.”

  “Are you actually trying to threaten me?” she scoffed.

  “No, not at all,” I smiled, though I knew she couldn’t see it. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “Then get on with it. I don’t have time for this nonsense,” she spat.

  “Such a feisty one. You might’ve done well as a witch hunter yourself, Gwen Sullivan,” I sighed. “I’m only going to say this once. You and detective Mercer are going to cease your investigation into the Order of the Phoenix. You’ve caught your man, Oscar Carlisle, and that’s the end of it. If this continues any further, the Order will be forced to take… severe measures.”

  Gwen stayed silent, eyeing the four men that surrounded her. I walked over to her, lifting the base of the shattered wine glass

  “You are only let free this night so that you may further my message onto those closest to you. Do you understand?”

  Gwen nodded her head.

  “Good,” I replied, running one edge of the glass against her cheek, not hard enough to cut. “There is no need for us to fight, Gwen Sullivan. I do not wish to stand against you or those you care for. I’m merely a vessel with the goals of accomplishing my mission. And in years to come, so will my son and his children to follow. Good shall prevail.”

  Without another word, my acolytes began heading for the front door. I followed close behind.

  ~

  What the hell just happened? The thought ran through my head once the five men left my house. I knew we were dealing with at least one crazy when we picked up Oscar, but I was stunned to see these men in my place.

  The second they were gone, I drew in a long breath, knowing how lucky I was to survive.

  Grabbing my phone, I called Jack.

  “Gwen, what’s up? I’m about to head into the interrogation room with Oscar,” he said.

  “They were just in my house,” I said.

  “What? Who?” Jack shouted.

  “Some guy calling himself the Witchfinder General, making more threats. They got into my house, Jack,” I could hear the panic in my own voice. It made me uncomfortable.

  I dropped to my ass, my breathing grew heavy.

  “I’m on my way,” Jack said.

  “No, they’re gone. Coming over will just be a waste of your time,” I replied, knowing it was true. They weren’t going to come back tonight, and Jack had his own thing to take care of with Oscar.

  “What did they want from you?” he asked.

  I explained what happened, from start to finish. By the end of the explanation, I was already back on my feet, picking up pieces of the broken wine glass and wiping a cloth over the spilled wine.

  “So, they’re still throwing threats out then? I guess we can only hope that Oscar is going to have something we can go on then,” Jack replied. “You’ve still got a key to my place, right? Why don’t you come over for the night? It’ll be like the good old days.”

  The thought brought a smile to my face. I did have a key to Jack’s place, locked away in my safe. It was a small gesture he made back when we were far younger and far stupider than we were now.

  “Sounds good,” I said, feeling tears well up in my eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Stay safe tonight, Gwen. I don’t want anything happening to you,” Jack replied.

  “You too, okay?” I fought back the tears for as long as I could.

  Once the call ended, I wept freely. And once I managed to compose myself, I collected the key from my safe and went over to Jack’s place, finding a good spot on the sofa, flicking through old movies.

  Chapter 18

  Jack

  I was already at the police station when Gwen called to tell me that her home was broken into. I stood in a small room, behind a one-way window, where not a few feet before me, Oscar Carlisle sat. He fidgeted nervously, having been trapped in the bright, blinding interrogation room for nearly 20 hours now.

  I hoped stripping him of all luxuries for a while would send him into a panic. That the idea of being thrown in jail would get him to start speaking and let me know what’s going on with this case. But now? There were higher stakes on the line. These people managed to break into Gwen’s house. I knew she had top-notch security after my own prodding to make sure she was safe years before.

  And this organization, the Order of the Phoenix, managed to get in there without any issue at all.

  They had to be damn good criminals, with a history in the more dubious acts, to pull something like that off.

  “So, what’s it gonna be, boss? You know we can’t keep him there for more than 48 hours if you don’t get something out of him soon,” the police officer, Marshall Denton, said. He was my second in the interrogation, had I needed to bring another in for the good cop/bad cop routine.

  He was a good man, having partaken in many an investigation with me in the past. I met him as a rookie on the force, trying to climb his way up the ladder, and now, he managed to hold the title of sergeant. He was built like a brick, with broad shoulders and a stocky frame. His skin was tanned both by heritage and taking care of himself. His buzzcut black hair was perfectly fitting for an officer such as him.

  “I’ll get something out of him tonight, don’t you worry about that,” I replied.

  My thoughts were still on Gwen, however. I knew she was safe for the time being, that the Order only came to her to deliver a message, but I was still uncomfortable. I felt trapped, not only in that small room but mentally too. What kind of toll would something like that take on a person? I knew if I was in the same situation, it wouldn’t have ended so civilly.

  But she was safe. I had to remember that. I never was and knew I couldn’t be emotional in a situation like this. If I let anything slip, going by the book, it would be my ass.

  “We going to play this one nice and cool, or do you want some muscle right from the get-go?” Marshall asked, shoving the last bite of a pastry into his mouth.


  “I think we take it slow. If I need you, I’ll give you the signal,” I replied. Marshall and I created a simple gesture that let the other know if they needed help—a peace sign shown to the perp before spinning one finger in the air.

  In this situation, with a man like Oscar Carlisle already terrified and broken down, I knew it wasn’t necessary. He’d squeal the second I started hitting him with hard truths of what might happen had he not given up more secrets. But it had to be done quickly. I didn’t have time to dilly-dally and pretend that we were going to get through this whole ordeal alright. I needed answers, and I needed to bring people down.

  Lives depended on it.

  I made the short walk out of the office and stepped into the interrogation room.

  It wasn’t much bigger than the room me and Marshall sat in, but the blinding white light above our heads was far more uncomfortable than I remembered. There was only a single table in the interrogation room, with two chairs on one end and the culprit's seat on the other. Oscar sat there, hands cuffed to not inflict any self-harm. I was told he was prone to violent strikes to his face, near constantly while saying, how could you be so stupid?

  In front of him, a can of soda and an empty McDonald’s box stood.

  “Oscar,” I smiled, moving over to a chair opposite him.

  “Hello,” he said, trying to lift his hand and wave. The cuffs rattled in a little metal restraint on the table, pulling him forward.

  “How are you today?”

  “Better than yesterday, sir,” Oscar replied, leaning forward and scratching his face. He had tomato sauce stains on his cheek from the burger he ate.

  “That’s good to hear. I understand you’ve had your lawyer come in and your rights read to you?” I inquired.

  “Yup, a nice woman came in to tell me everything,” Oscar said, almost blushing at the mention of the woman.

  “Great, then we can begin. Look, I’m not going to mince words with you here… you’re in a lot of trouble, Oscar,” I let out a long, drawn-out sigh, trying to express the gravity of the situation. “Did you know that your friends paid the female detective that was with me yesterday a visit tonight?”