Weird Collector Novels & Stories

She doesn't really have anyone who likes the stuff that she has. "It's just that this stuff is so cool! Almost half the stuff in here is rare, old and new! Everything is so organized, neat, and so-" "Dangerous," Tera finishes. "It is so bizarre to have a human collect and keep this stuff." Tera grabs one of the herbs in a glass container. "You even got the rarest herbs no one could ever find." Sarah could really feel her ego being stroked as she heard them praise her. The wolves were either sitting or looking around. The witches and Snow were the only ones who know what was in the shop while the others didn't.

Alex felt a familiar knot of tension return. “Who else?” Vale hesitated for the first time. Then he spoke one name. “The Crown Court.” Brody frowned. “That sounds bad.” Mara’s voice lowered. “They’re collectors.” Jake’s jaw tightened. “Collectors of what?” Vale answered simply. “Rare bloodlines.” Alex looked toward Finn and Liam again. Finn was now attempting to teach Liam how to hold a hockey stick properly. Alex felt a surge of protective instinct. “Not happening,” he said flatly.

Theodore's jaw dropped. "Yes," Nigel Senior grinned, flashing sharp teeth. "But nowadays, folks call me the Mad Alpha." His eyes flashed crimson, glowing like red flames candles, and the four travelers instinctively stepped back. "Noted," Cameron muttered as he looked around the room at the shelves that were stuffed with weird trinkets, crystal skulls, jars of glowing beetles, and bones floating in bubbling liquid. "And you?" Falcon asked the quiet man still lingering in the shadows. "You've got kind eyes... but you've been staring at us like we might sprout horns."

—the stolen histories of a thousand fallen civilizations. ​In the center of the ship was the Collector, a being that looked like a thousand mirrors stitched together. Every mirror showed a different version of a "Failed Vane." ​"You... are... 'Un-Scripted'..." the Collector hissed, the mirrors on its body spinning. "You have no... 'Data-Value'. Why... do you... 'Resist'?" ​"Because we’re the 'Trash' of the universe," Leo said, his white eyes flaring. "And we’re tired of being collected."

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.

"I'm not telling you anything." "Wrong answer." Elara pressed her thumb into one of his wounds and he screamed. "Try again. Who's paying you?" I should have been disturbed by her casual brutality. Instead, I was grudgingly impressed. She'd learned to do what was necessary, no hesitation. "I don't know his name!" The rogue gasped. "We just call him the Collector. He pays good money for destabilizing packs. Especially ones with connections to True Alphas." "The Collector." Elara's eyes met mine. "What does he want with True Alphas?"

Manik said and both kabir and manik smile and decline the call. After somedays he just come to know about kabir's death and without thinking anything he just came india back after almost 10 years. He left his business in america and takeover his father's empire which was very big and powerful with his ideas and skills he take his father's business to new heights and then send a marriage proposal for nandini.

"He referred them to someone else. A collector who specialises in lunar artifacts." "Who?" Casie pressed, leaning forward. "Victor Krane. Private collection in Westbrook Heights." Valeria withdrew the instrument, its silver surface now stained with a hint of red. "The Magpie left immediately after extracting this information." Rick was already checking the name on his phone. "Victor Krane, 62, retired investment banker with a reputation for eccentric collecting habits. No criminal record, but several complaints from auction houses about aggressive bidding tactics." "We need to get to him before the Magpie does," Casie decided, already moving toward the stairs.

I whined, picking up a sweatshirt with fragility. "Well... because you didn't listen to the warnings and so you brought this upon yourself. Good luck and try to stay alive." Alpha Gray laughed, closing the door to my escape and the door of the big laundry room. Werewolves sweat and blood smell awful than humans because of the supernatural power they hold. But I will surely be dying over this foul smell. "Oh! Look. It's Clara the troublemaker." The beta entered the room, pushing a big trolley filled with another pile of dirty clothes.

The iridescent Eye of the Collector in the sky let out a shriek of rage, its gold light turning into a series of "Warning Pixels." UNAUTHORIZED BROKER DETECTED. SECTOR 4 IS UNDER EXCLUSIVE USER CONTRACT. REMOVE THE MERCHANDOR. The Merchant didn't look up. He adjusted his silver-glass briefcase, which was etched with the logos of a thousand dead sectors. "The Collector is such a sentimentalist," the Merchant said, his voice a smooth, clinical vibration. "He thinks 'Skins' and 'Mods' are the future. He doesn't realize that the real value of a 'Genesis Variable' is the 'Raw Entropy'."