The Collector Novels & Stories

Every new memory made the line between my life and the connection blur a little more. The Collector still stood outside Blackthorn's gates. He hadn't moved. He hadn't lowered the pendant. He simply waited. As though he already knew what it would awaken inside me. Kael stepped in front of me once more. "Where did you get that pendant?" The Collector answered without hesitation. "It has been in our keeping for nearly twenty-three years." Twenty-three years. Almost exactly the amount of time since my mother had died. A cold knot formed in my stomach. "You took it."

The thing that really caught my attention was the jaded exterior, like it had been exposed to elements of nature. “How much are they selling it for?” There was a silence before Leng spoke, “Three thousand.” “Three thousand?” I exclaimed. “That’s daylight robbery.” “Willing buyer and seller, Dr. Ant. Collectors are irrational creatures. It is what the heart delights. Collectors' hearts are deep like oceans.” "How philosophical." "Courtesy of my dad. He said it." "Smart dad." "Like father, like daughter." I returned to the image Twenty-Seven and read it out before continuing again.

AVA Swoosh! Clang! I shift my gaze, staring at Hunter's back as he rummaged through the drawers hurriedly. Tossing and throwing stuff he finds useless to the floor, creatint the swooshing and clanging sounds as he goes. Hunter groans, moving away from each one then proceeding to swing open the white painted wooden cabinets. God, does he have to be so aggressive? And what is he looking for? Suddenly he stops, his head raised staring at something sitting on the top cabinet. It sat between two unlabeled boxes, huge in size making it look like it's on the verge of death. One light touch and those boxes would fall to their demise and onto the floor.

INTRODUCTION My name is Kacela. I am twenty-one years old, and I am a werewolf hunter. And I have a secret. I am a werewolf. I was raised in a family of werewolf hunters. My father, mother and older brother are all werewolf hunters, and I made my first kill when I was twelve years old. I am trained in weaponry and hand to hand combat as well as other skills that I use in the field, like tracking. I’m also exceptionally good at finding werewolves who don’t want to be found using a variety of techniques, but mostly common sense and computer skills. It’s a family business and it keeps us well employed and financially stable. We move around a lot because of it.

“Let's find somewhere to sit, shall we?” “Yes, Sir,” I told him with a hesitant, shy smile. I was rewarded with another of his oily smiles, this time it had a predatory edge to it. How many women had found themselves the victim to that predatory smile? All afraid to say something because he worked personally for the Praetor -the leader of all the werewolves in North America. I was going to enjoy this one.

he added sadly, and I felt Jagger back down slightly. "The attack on you and Kayda in the jeep was the first attack." My dad linked as I nodded. "Who is the collector?" I asked. "Never met him, none of us did. We got his messages and money through some small coven of witches he controls." he replied. "He's a wizard?" Adam asked as the rogue shook his head. "No, he's some sort of black demon." the rogue responded. "Long neck, lizard eyes, scaly looking." he shuddered at the memory.

"Yes?" "Stellan isn't who you think he is. He’s not a protector. He’s a collector." She looked at the dark car with genuine fear in her eyes. "He collects things. Companies. Art. People. And once he has them, he never lets them go. Be careful you don't become just another asset."

I said softly, my voice thick with emotion. I gestured to the walls, to the photo on the desk. "David... you kept all of this? Even the small stuff?"He walked toward me, not bothered by his state of undress. He looked at the photo, then back at me. "I told you. You were the only reason I bothered coming into that office. Every time I had to make a hard decision, every time the Board or my Father pushed me to be someone I wasn't, I’d look at these. They reminded me that integrity actually exists.""Now you see the full extent of the obsession. Are you running for the hills yet?""No," I whispered, stepping into his space, the heat from his shower still radiating off him. "I'm just realizing th

Old Fragment crouched in a chair beside them, her papery body rustling with ancient knowledge. On the south side sat six Collectors. They were all variations of Collector-Seven's mercury form, but each was subtly different. Collector-One was massive, nearly twelve feet tall, its surface carved with equations that seemed to calculate the heat death of a universe that had already died. Collector-Twelve was small, almost childlike, but its reflected images showed scenes of absolute darkness where nothing had ever existed at all. Between them sat a seventh figure. The Arbitrator. It was not a Collector. It was something older, a neutral mechanism built into the Original Contract itself. It resem

The collector smiled. "You misunderstand." His eyes gleamed. "There were hundreds once." Drift crossed his arms. "So?" "This is the last one." The room went quiet. Even Drift understood that. Not because it was sacred. Because it was rare. The collector smiled again. That same awful smile. The smile of a man collecting pieces of something dying. Like mounting heads on a wall. Nero hated him instantly. The ride home was quiet for a long time. Drift broke first. "Still got paid."