As the countdown begins, the body count rises. With London gearing up to host the Olympics, the last thing the city needs is a serial killer stalking the streets, leaving behind a trail of brutal and bizarre murders.
Detective Inspector Kurt Lancer is a struggling single parent thrust into the pressure cooker of this high profile case, and as the list of potential victims grows, it becomes apparent that Lancer’s daughter could be one of them.
Fingers point in every direction, and Lancer’s only clue comes in the form of a single oak leaf left at each crime scene.
And now, an excerpt from Oracle:
My eyes began to burn—an incredible, searing pain as if someone had shoved glowing hot pokers through both my eye sockets.
I cried out. My hands shot to my face as I tried to wipe the fiery chemical away, but every brush of my fingers left a blazing trail of hot coals across my corneas. My eyes watered. As my vision descended into a red haze of pain, my cheeks and lips started to tingle.
My whole face was on fire.
Something hit the back of my knees, like a boot—a heavy one. Arms flailing, I fell forward, sprawling onto the floor. Lost in my own world of pain, I was nevertheless aware of a presence beside me.
The first cut caught me across the cheek, sending more pain spreading across my already raw face. The next sliced through my clothes and dug into my shoulder. I tried opening my eyes, to see the danger, but my eyelids refused.
He was going to stab me to death.
As the cuts rained down on me from the heavens, slicing through my flesh like razor-tipped hailstones, a terrible realisation struck.
I was about to become the Oaksecutioner’s seventh victim.
I couldn’t allow it to happen, couldn’t let her lose another parent in the line of duty.
My hands stretched out before me in the fiery darkness as I attempted to fend off the unrelenting blade. They withdrew just as quickly when the scalpel bit deep into the back of my left hand.
Another slash from the scalpel caught me across my forearm. I forced my eyelids open, but all I made out through the burning haze was a blur of light and colours. A blue smudge lunged towards me, and I stumbled backwards, my bottom landing heavily on the floor. A whizz as the blade cut the air in front of my face. I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my palm, but it only intensified the pain. I opened them again. Still nothing but a meaningless blur. Blood thundered in my temples. Somewhere in the background, someone yelled and pounded on a door. The pungent smell of bleach stung my nostrils, the chemical burning my skin, dripping into my open wounds and searing like lava.
Too much noise. Too many stimuli. Paralysed by panic, my mind shouted at me, but nothing made sense. I couldn’t think, couldn’t see, could hardly breathe as my breaths grew quick and shallow, like the thudding of my heart.