by Joshua Brown
“I’m just doing a job, man. Please don’t kill me,” his voice was shrill. I could tell he was younger just by the way he spoke.
I made my way towards the short corridor that led from my door into the kitchen and living room.
“Who sent you?” I asked. From there, I saw the wound—a shot on the upper thigh, shredding meat from bone. I walked over to him, grabbing him by the injured leg and pulling him back into the living room.
He shouted in agony as his body was forced back. He tried grabbing the leg, which no doubt shot terrible pain through his entire body.
With the night I just endured, I wasn’t going to mess around.
“Some freak who calls himself the Witchfinder General,” he replied.
Getting him into the living room, he spun around, exposing his face from beneath the maroon hood. He wasn’t a kid, but he wasn’t a man either. Barely had hair on his chin, yet he found himself looking for trouble in my house. I was perplexed and frustrated by it, all at once.
“What does he want with me?” I questioned, grabbing the front of his robe and pulling him up. I leaned him against the coffee table, and collapsed into my sofa. Knowing they weren’t boys made this a little easier.
“He just wanted us to rough you up a bit. We’ve been running with him the last while. He pays good, but he’s a bit nuts,” he said.
“What’s your name, boy?” I cracked my neck from side to side.
“Granger.”
“What the hell kind of name is Granger?” I leaned in close to him, making sure he stared deep into my eyes.
He didn’t answer, realizing the rhetoric behind the question.
“You know what your piece of shit boss has been getting up to lately? The hell he’s putting people through?” I continued my questioning.
“We’re just hired muscle, man. We don’t get involved in his business,” Granger replied, shaking his head. “Please don’t kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you, boy. But what I am going to do is make it hurt, real bad if you don’t start giving me answers,” I pressed a finger into his chest.
“Who is the Witchfinder General?”
“I don’t know his name, man. He’s always wearing this mask, ever since we met him,” he shook his head.
“Why are you helping a man that’s threatening innocent lives?”
“It’s all for shits and giggles, man. He’s not going to do anything to these people,” Granger sniffed, trying to smile.
“Wrong answer,” I grabbed him by the leg, squeezing as hard as I could.
Granger clutched my hand, screaming out. He held as long as he could but eventually spoke through the screeching. “He said these were bad people, and we were doing good. We didn’t care because we wanted his money, okay? We weren’t ever gonna help him hurt nobody.”
“How can I believe that, knowing why you’re in my house?” My grip never left Granger’s leg. I heard the sound of approaching sirens out in the distance of the night. One of my neighbors probably called at the sound of the gunshot.
Granger couldn’t speak through the shouting.
“We’re running out of time, so let’s get the shot going, huh?” I said, lifting the gun back to Granger.
Knowing that the cops would be outside my door soon, I had to sort this out before they arrived. I pressed the barrel of the gun into his mouth, holding it there before speaking. He knew I wasn’t afraid to use it, with the man dead in my room, so I had to bank that he’d bite.
“You’re going to tell me right now, where do you meet with the Witchfinder General? You thought you’d get a couple of cheeky shots on me? Well, how the tables have turned.”
Granger started weeping, and the faint odor of urine struck my nose.
He was scared, and he knew this was his last chance.
“We met in a shitty little bar outside the city called the Salty Oyster. He’s there most nights, trying to find new people to join his cult,” Granger started weeping. Like a newborn baby, he was just about ready to beg for his mother.
But just like that, I had something. After weeks of absolute and unending torture, there was somewhere to go. And though it was only the beginning, at least it was the beginning of the end.
Chapter 25
Jack
“I heard about what happened to you last night,” Aaron said as I stepped into the office. “How are you holding up with everything that happened?”
“I don’t really remember it,” I replied.
That wasn’t a lie either, as I often told when I was asked questions like that. I never wanted to worry the crew about my state of mind or how I was holding up on a situation. As strong as they were, I knew that they weren’t always ready for the hard truths, and I didn’t want to be the reason any of them suffered.
“But now that it’s all over, we’ve got something,” I said, wanting to bring the spirits in the room up.
Aaron no doubt told Lauren how rough I took the previous night's events at Jane Dench’s home. Lauren was nothing but compassionate, and I could see it on her face. She was gracious and caring, a great empath, and seeing her friends suffer often broke her. I didn’t want to be another reason for her to hurt.
“What do you mean we’ve got something?” Aaron asked, turning to face me. He had a pen sticking out of his mouth, chewing on the end.
“The kid that came into my house, scared shitless, told me about a hideout for the man we’re looking for. There was no name, but there’s enough to go by. And if we act fast enough, and with just the right amount of luck, we might be able to get away with this before anyone gets hurt,” I replied. “Where’s Gwen, anyway?”
I got so accustomed to Gwen being around the office that I could’ve believed she somehow became a part of my team again. I had to admit, it was good having her around too. Another bright, smiling face, ready to stop at nothing to fight crime and kick ass.
But not seeing her there that day made me realize that this was just a one-case deal. That when it was all over, she was going to head out again, into the big, bad world. I hated the idea of that. Having her around was the cherry atop the ice cream sundae. I’d thought about the offer since the day she stepped into my office all those weeks ago, asking for help.
And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it to be so. But would she want to join me and the Mercer Detective Agency? The choice, as always, was up to her.
“No idea, boss. She hasn’t come in yet,” Aaron said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Send her to my office as soon as she gets in, alright? We’ve all got a lot to talk about, getting ready for whatever might go down.”
With a nod, Aaron spun around, getting back to work. Throwing my coat and hat over the rack, I walked across to my office. Lauren followed close behind, shutting the door behind us. By the look in her eyes, I could tell she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear, but I’d let her do it.
She wanted peace of mind, just as badly as I wanted to end this thing.
“How are you feeling?” she walked over to a chair opposite me and took a seat.
“I’m feeling good,” I replied.
“Aaron told me what happened last night, Jack. How beaten up you were about what happened to that guy. It’s not like you to throw the hat in—”
“I never threw the hat in. Sometimes it feels like the world is ending around you, but when you take a step back and realize that everything’s going to be okay, things come out okay in the end.”
“But at what cost? You’re killing yourself over these cases, pouring every part of yourself into them, and for what? It’s going to be the death of you.”
There was no threat of tears, not like usual when we had these conversations. Lauren’s stern expression was somewhat unsettling. I knew how she was; I knew how she typically acted.
“What are you saying?” I inquired, cocking a brow.
“I don’t know,” she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I just want to k
now that you’re okay. You’re a good man, Jack, and I don’t want to see the world lose a good man because he throws himself into his work head-on. I guess I’m just looking out for you, like you’ve always looked out for us.”
“This is a big break, Lauren,” I tried easing her mind. “This might even be our final push to put down a case that’s been sitting for over three decades. Whoever the Order of the Phoenix is, whatever evil they want to bring on this world, we’re going to end it.”
Lauren nodded, pulling herself out of the chair. “I trust you, Jack. I know I always can. As long as you’re standing up and fighting the good fight, there’s nothing I’d rather see.”
I let her walk out. I knew she just wanted the best for me, and I wanted the same for all of them. But the only way to make sure that happened was by ridding the world of the scum that dwelled in it.
~
Gwen arrived a few hours later, while I was in the midst of researching the Salty Oyster. It was designed with hoodlums and criminals in mind—men and women who did gun-for-hire work or drug trafficking. The place seemed fitting for a man like the Witchfinder General, someone looking to build an army of monsters who cared about nothing but coin.
After the usual questions of how I was feeling after the night before, and my attempts to let everyone know that I really was fine, we all stepped into my office. The two ladies sat in front of me while Aaron hovered behind them, resting on his haunches.
“So, what are we looking at here?” Gwen asked, crossing her arms.
“From what I can find, the Salty Oyster is known for its rather shady clientele. Bad men with bad intentions, looking to make a quick buck any way they can,” I started. “We know that the Witchfinder General’s looking for these exact people to cause a little havoc around the world. With his current crew, the same ones that came to your place, I think, out of commission, he’ll be on the hunt again.”
“What about the one at the Dench family’s house?” Gwen asked. “It doesn’t add up, Jack. There were four that came to my place and only three at yours. And if these were just some thugs, why did a man kill himself for this bullshit cause?”
“I thought about that after those hooligans came to my house. Three guns for hire, while one was far more inclined to believe the nonsense that the Witchfinder spoke. We’re also thinking about men like Oscar Carlisle, right? Deluded people that don’t know what to do but listen to the voice of power. I believe he’s used them to further his twisted agenda, while the others aren’t part of his actual crew,” I replied.
There was no proof behind my estimations of the situation, but it seemed logical enough. Why would the Witchfinder hang out around some shady bar if he had all the men he needed? People that wanted, or more often required, money would be more inclined to join him.
“That’s as good a reason as any to go by, I guess,” Aaron said, eyeing my screen. “What’s our plan of action then?”
I looked over at Lauren, who almost looked disappointed in the whole situation. There was a smile on her face, no doubt because I was out of my slump, but her eyes betrayed her sadness.
“We’re going to go there and deal with this once and for all. Before he gets the chance to attack the Dench’s or the Williamson’s. For too long now, this piece of work has been reigning terror onto the people of New York, good people that have no say in the matter because they’re backed into a corner. From my understanding, he always keeps his mask on even when he’s at the Salty Oyster. It shouldn’t be hard to pick him out,” I replied.
I found that many times, attacking head-on was the best play. Making plans and acting in the shadows was for scared people. Taking the bull by the horns and conquering was the only way I believed in working.
“And what if tonight’s the night he makes a move on one of the families? And we’re all the way out of the city, too far to get to them?” Gwen asked.
“If you’re worried, maybe you and Aaron should hang back and take care of any threats that happen around town,” I reached for my box of Lucky Strikes, lighting one up.
“There’s no way I’m letting you walk into the lion's den without any help,” Aaron shook his head. “That’s a death sentence, and you know it.”
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But look, that’s not my call. I’d rather have you here anyway, staying safe. We’ve seen too much, and I don’t think I can deal with any of you getting hurt.”
“And what about you, Jack? What if you get hurt?” Lauren asked.
“That’s a risk I’ve always been willing to take, and I’ll keep taking it,” I cut it off. I knew it came from a good place, but I wasn’t going to stand for these monsters getting away with murder.
“Look, how about you and Aaron go down to the Salty Oyster while I stay in town? I’ll hold down the fort over here. If anything happens, at least I can give you guys a call,” Gwen said, instantly noticing the tension between Lauren and me, deciding to get back to the important topic at hand.
“I’m down with it if you are,” Aaron replied, gesturing to me with a hand. Though he’d be happy to follow the instruction, he’d want to make sure I was on board with it first.
“Then it’s settled. Aaron 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.
