The Orphan Collector Novels & Stories

There was no convent where mothers and children were kept aside from the rest of their pack, but sadly they had what they called an orphanage for children whose parents were killed. I asked him about the human world and he burst out laughing, reminding me that when I saw just the first part of it, I got sick. I was stumped! “Were those farms human farms?” This was news to me. I knew humans had to eat and that they were out in the world, but I never imagined that! I never imagined that they were clever enough to build cities as he showed me on television. In my mind, humans were just slightly more intelligent than beasts. Fynn explained that there was an entire world out there where humans ru

Dante said. "There’s one thing you should know," Evelyn said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a final, small envelope. "The twelve orphans... they aren't the only ones. The project had a second location. In America. A place called 'The Orchard.'" Dante stopped, his hand on the car door. He looked at the envelope, then at Bella’s face on his phone screen. The labyrinth was never truly gone. It just changed its name. "Not tonight, Mother," Dante said, taking the envelope but not opening it. "Tonight, the orphans are just children. And the Orchard can wait for the morning."

I need this final plan to work because if I’m still here in a few days when I turn eighteen, I will be subjected to the disgusting practice werewolves call Mercy, where suitable eighteen-year-old humans are selected by werewolves to be their pets. That’s all this orphanage is: a grounds for grooming human children into eventual “pets”. In this world ruled by werewolves, we have no say in who our masters become. We are merely commodities awaiting sale, knowing that most pets end up as nothing more than corpses to be disposed of.

I put my own hand on the empty tomb. "And I am going anyway, and I need you to understand why, because it is not foolishness. I have been an orphan my whole life. I grieved two parents I never got to know. One of them turned out to be alive in a cellar, and I almost did not get her, and every day I have her now is a day I nearly lost. If there is even a chance the other one is down there, alive, after eighteen years, then there is no trap in the world she could build that would keep me from going to look. She is not baiting a queen, Hunter. She is baiting an orphan, and orphans do not get to be sensible about this. Some things you have to walk into a snare for. A father is one of them."

I could hear an erratic heartbeat. ​I used my senses to direct me until my feet came to an immediate stop where the scent and sound met. I take a hesitant step forward, looking down into the barely visible opening between two grimy walls. It was a space which held a small, shaking body, perfectly hidden behind the patches of grass. “​Mate,” Theo declared once more, his glee bubbling over into my chest. ​But within that same moment, the scent clears itself to reveal the underlying truth. The sweet aroma was coming off a human. A fragile, completely human girl.

I mutter around my thumb; the coppery taste of my blood fills my mouth as I press my tongue against the small wound so the bleeding stops sooner. “An Academy gal, huh? You’re a rare one.” The collector presses something on the device and I know my location has just been sent to The Acadmey and back to my watcher. “You gals are all about serving that head guy, whats it you call him?” The collector rambles as he walks from behind the counter and pulls out a bunch of keys. It always makes me chuckle that I need to give blood to get access to the room but all he needs is a little key.

instinct to return to the source. From the fog, a single, black ship emerged. It didn't have a flag. It didn't have a name. At the bow stood Silas Vane, holding a staff tipped with a glowing obsidian shard. "Rose," his voice echoed across the water, amplified by the drones. "The nursery is full. It’s time to pay the rent." The Sanctuary was no longer a refuge; it was a trap. The Siren frequency was holding the children in a trance, drawing them toward the beach where Vane’s "Collectors" were waiting with silver nets and sedative harpoons.

My steps halted before entering, my eyes widened as my mouth hanged opened “An orphanage. “Hello, welcome to the crystal orphanage, do you wish to see how we operate or are you here to donate?” An old woman smiled at me wearing a scarf, my eyes look for Adrian who is already disappeared, apparently, the woman senses the distress on my face “Are you looking to meet,sir I mean Mr Adrian.” she says.

That help is waiting. The contract is written in elaborate script, the words flowing across the parchment in what definitely looks like dried blood. I scan the terms, my stomach sinking with each line. *The Bearer of this Contract, hereafter referred to as "The Collected," does willingly and without coercion bind herself to The Collector for the duration of her natural life.* *The Collected agrees to:* *- Serve The Collector in all matters relating to the acquisition and maintenance of supernatural artifacts* *- Use her bloodline, abilities, and curse fragments for The Collector's benefit*

Two words are written in a surprisingly neat cursive center in the paper. Stop him. "Seems as though the Luna knows she's let a disease infest her pack," Kennedy reads the note over my shoulder. He continues to read the rest out of the note aloud, "Packs and Rogues are not the only things he's Collecting...why did she capitalize that word?" "The Collected...he has a collection of souls that he uses," I saw them once in my vision. When he had Marked me... "I don't know exactly what they are. My ancestor, Zemira, might. She has similar powers to Orion."