Weird Collector Novels & Stories

I told her to come in and she came into my office and brought a piece of paper with her. “The delivery man is from a company called Pairdeer. It’s a new delivery service and they offer a lot, not just food deliveries. They offer to pay your bills for you as well as do your grocery shopping. They’re fairly new, that's why the uniform was unfamiliar.” She explained. I looked at the paper she brought in that contained all of the information regarding the company.

“Unfortunately, there was barely anything useful in it. Mostly details about their obsession with collecting Outworlder artifacts such as strands of witches’ hair, vampire fangs, lycan bones, ancient silver arrows and bullets, even preserved ghoul corpses.” Wesley made a face. “That just sounded like River’s collection,” he noted dryly. I rolled my eyes. “Believe it or not, I actually acquire my macabre collection with the other party’s consent. But with this Mollagoshit, I have no idea how they can acquire these things, especially when they’re humans. I can only guess… maybe, they have a connection within the Outworld,” I spat and shot Mason another sharp look. Mason crossed his arms, his e

“Perhaps you can give some insight into our current plight. What do you know of the Collectors?” Romani’s eyes darkened. “I know them well. An unfortunate side effect of traveling in the Shadow World.” He took a deep breath and continued. “The Collectors are an abomination. Their magic feeds off of life itself. The more they use their abilities, the more their corporeal form fails them.” Vanessa thought back to the rotted chunks of flesh and bone that seemed to cover each Collector. “Eventually they all fall to the Veil. They remain trapped there, suffering in endless agony as they rot for all eternity but never die.”

The scent made my skin prickle. "Lights on," I muttered, tapping my helmet. The beam cut through the hangar and I whistled low. "Well fuck me sideways. This thing is massive." My name's Zara Kaine and I'm what the company calls an independent contractor, which is code for desperate enough to take solo salvage runs nobody else wants. This particular piece of junk had been drifting for two hundred years. The crew vanished with no distress signal. Last comm was one final log entry that said "compatible life contact established" before everything went dark.

Make their world unstable. The red chip-like object was successfully captured by Damian on earth, but disappeared again. They also didn't know why it was with Xander and ended up in Alice's hands. Because their world is out of balance, Ken is forced to sacrifice his daughter's life to neutralize the balance of all creatures in his world.

" Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief and leave, but he took the ring with him. He never gave it back. I touched my now-empty ring finger and picked up the phone to call my former colleague, Isabelle Monroe, who was still overseas. "Can you check if Professor Harrington still has an open spot in his lab? I want to go back and continue my research." She sounded pleasantly surprised. "Really? When you left, Professor Harrington was so upset. If he hears you're coming back, he'll be thrilled! I'll ask him right away. "But didn't you leave to get married? Won't it be inconvenient to live apart from your husband?"

"Well? Everyone else introduced themselves. Why didn't you? Got something to hide?" I tapped my forehead lightly. "Oh, shoot. You're right. I got so worried that everyone might be thirsty that I totally forgot my turn. Anyway, my name's Cheryl Hewitt. I'm just your average office worker." The five of them traded confused looks, then hurriedly asked, "Have you ever joined a horror dungeon before?" I shook my head. "Nope." Verda immediately snapped, "This is a triple S-rank dungeon! How did you get here with zero experience?"

I never want to go to the days where we would be in the middle of the grocery store to her screaming 'hey mom there are those fucking watermelons. "I know. Some anonymous collector loved my oceanic collection. He bought one several months ago but when he came in today, the curator told him that I happen to be in. He's a Russian businessman that says my paintings remind him of his late mothers. He wants me to do more and message him to see if he is interested." "That's incredible Lisa. I'm so proud of you." I hug my sister with such enthusiasm that my panic and heartache from earlier nearly vanish.

I asked. “Because I trade in rumors,” he said flatly. “And because those who once claimed the beacon were not merely keepers but curators of old tools. Tools that changed governance and hearts.” He tapped a wooden box on his table. “A curious merchant once sold me a shard stamped with the same sigil as your mural. I sent it on, thinking it a fake. Maybe I was wrong.” Mara raised a brow. “Who did you send it to?” Solan’s eyes flicked. “A collector who deals in relics only from the Old Coast. He’s not in this market. You’ll find him in the Stone Quarter — name’s Halver — if you have coin.”

They wore a dark cloak that obscured their features, and in their hands, they held a staff that pulsed with sickly green light. "There you are," the figure said, their voice neither male nor female but ancient and cold. "The last Silvercrest. Come with me peacefully, and I will call off the attack. Resist, and everyone here dies." Korra stood slowly, the pendant burning hot against her skin. "Who are you?" "I am the Collector," they said simply. "And I have been searching for you for a very long time." The staff pulsed brighter, and suddenly, Korra couldn't move. Magic wrapped around her like invisible chains, pulling her forward step by step.