The Collector Book One: Mana Leak (20 page)

“All you want, isn’t it? A punch bag and a fuck, all in one.” He spat out the words, showing his disgust. “Much like your wife.”

Frank leapt to his feet, once again catching The Collector by surprise. His head connected squarely with The Collector’s nose. Both men sprawled to the ground; Frank still clutching his throbbing head, The Collector grabbing his nose, which dripped with blood.

9.

“Frank? What’s going on?”

Anne emerged from the open front door. She looked back and forth at her husband, rolling around on the lawn clutching his head and screaming, and the stranger who sat up, a red torrent flowing over his mouth.

“You need to control this…this animal!” he said, rising to his feet. “Look at what he did to me! Look at my suit…”

He stared down at Frank.

“This is outrageous.”

The man turned and stormed off down the garden and out the gate.

“Frank?” Anne ran over to him and dropped to a crouch, laying a hand on his back. “Frank? What happened?”

“My…head…” he groaned through gritted teeth. “It hurts. My God…it hurts…”

“Let’s get you inside,” said Anne, trying to pull one of his arms around her shoulders. With the difference in size and weight, she struggled. “Frank, you have to get up.”

She felt his arm flex and fingers dig painfully into her skin. He hoisted himself up higher.

“That’s it,” she said. “Come on.”

With him unsteady as a bad drunk, Anne doubted they’d reach the front door. Her back ached with effort every time he fell, the pressure and weight on her trebling. Anne knew if she let him fall, he’d stay on the floor.

His balance seemed to return as they crossed the threshold into the hall. She leaned him against the wall, closed the front door and rubbed her back, expecting her shoulder to be bruised from his tight grasp.

Frank leaned back with his legs out at an angle, his own weight keeping him from falling. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

“That…that was a bad one…”

“A bad one?” asked Anne, out of breath. “A bad headache or a bad rage attack, Frank?”

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall.

“Did you see what you did to that poor man? You might have broken his nose! If what you did yesterday wasn’t bad enough, now you have to brawl in the street?”

“I’m sorry, hon. But I had to, he…”

“You had to?” she screamed. “You had to do what? Head butt him?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I’m sick of hearing it,” said Anne, marching past him.

She stopped rigid as he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Frank…no.”

“Just tell me who he was.”

“I don’t know.”

He squeezed her arm tighter and she winced.

“What was he doing here?”

“I told you! I don’t know!”

He pulled her closer.

“If you’re lying, and he’s a friend of yours from social services or whatever, you tell him this: if he comes anywhere near you or the kids again, I’ll kill him.”

“Frank, you’re hurting me…”

“You tell him that from me.”

He stood upright, steadier.

Anne shrugged her arm away and massaged the skin he’d gripped.

“I told Charlie we were going to discuss where we stood when you got back. He’s worried sick. But if all you do is threaten and still insist on playing the big man, then that’s not going to happen. You can sleep on the sofa tonight. Bronwyn’s in with me.”

“Anne…”

“No. We put her to bed. She went hysterical. I’m not putting my children at risk again, Frank. Seeing you is the last thing she needs. If I hear a single creak coming up the stairs tonight, we’re leaving.”

She walked away from him and headed up the stairs.

Bronwyn wailed and pleaded not to be taken away in the bedroom above.

“Anne, please…”

“I mean it,” she said, peering back at him.

“Where would you go?”

“Anywhere,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Anywhere away from you.”

10.

The Collector opened the door to the shed, almost ripping it from the hinges.

Montgomery lay on the floor, its black eyes squinting against the sudden light that entered.

“These obnoxious peasants,” The Collector growled, wiping a fresh trickle of blood from his nose away with his thumb. Checking his reflection in the window, his face burned the same colour as his hair; a combined effect of flushed skin and splattered blood. “Look what they did to me, Montgomery. Look what they did to Daddy!”

The creature stayed silent, crouching in the corner.

The Collector sniffed and glanced down. His eyes adjusted to the dark of the shed, and he stared at the gore streaked across the walls and floor. Bones lay scattered, picked clean of flesh and sinew. With disgust, he bent down and picked up a clump of dark, matted hair, still attached to a small flap of skin.

“Oh, Montgomery. Not again,” he said, dropping it back onto the floor.

Splat!

The creature eased back, using its hands to pad across the floor. It released a small moan from one of its many mouths.

“Don’t you try to soften me up,” The Collector said. “You have been naughty. Very naughty indeed!”

He stepped forward.

Montgomery retreated further into the shadows of the shed until the wooden panels of the wall pressed against its pallid side. It moaned again through several mouths, creating a chorus of whines and groans. It closed its eyes and bowed its head.

The Collector crouched next to it, stroking the hairless head.

“You knew we had to keep our hiding place secret,” he said. “Lucky this was that ruffian Harper’s dog; otherwise I may have found your actions highly aggravating. But one is actually quite amused…”

The creature murmured, enjoying the rare positive attention lavished on it.

“They’re keeping secrets, Montgomery,” The Collector continued, “secrets to save their beloved spirits. The mana is so close, I can almost taste it!”

He stood and approached the single window of the shed. Using a handkerchief from his breast pocket, he wiped a single streak clean from the thick dust and dog blood on the glass and peered through. The Harper house stood at the top of the garden, all the rear windows dark and empty. He knew the whole family was in there, probably still unaware of the fate of their dog. Considering the state of Frank Harper and the negativity he sensed around the house, The Collector guessed no one would be out soon.

“It’s time for more…forceful tactics. I came here full of good intention, you know that don’t you?”

The creature just blinked at him.

“But I was met with lies, damn lies! And violence! Well, if that is the way they want to play the game, so be it.”

Montgomery croaked and crept forwards, nuzzling the side of The Collector’s leg.

“Don’t worry. I’m not angry with you. It’s them.”

Through the window, The Collector peered up at the sky.

“We wait until darkness, then open the rift again.”

Montgomery whined and clutched its master, wrapping a white arm around his ankle.

“Calm yourself. We aren’t going home yet. The Founders have prepared a little back up should the situation turn…difficult.”

He looked back to the house.

“I detest asking for help, but this matter needs to be rectified immediately. For the sake of the City…”

With a tug of his leg to remove the needy Montgomery, The Collector moved away from the window. He overturned the metal bucket and wiped its base clean of dust, cobwebs and blood with his handkerchief. He sat down and sighed, tossing the soiled square of fabric into the corner.

“And now we wait. I do hope that the Founders don’t insist on selling the Elites. I don’t think they have the diplomacy to handle this kind of situation. Do you agree?”

Montgomery nodded.

“Prowlers will be as standard, I presume, and a Megathon. A Megathon would be delightful! Those two young thugs seem to like machines; maybe I will feed their interest.”

Montgomery joined The Collector, squatting by his side. Several of its mouths yawned, displaying rows of tiny incisors and curled tongues.

“You rest now. We have a long and busy night ahead.”

Montgomery folded its scarred arms underneath its head and closed its eyes.

“And don’t eat anything. You’ll get your belly filled again later, that’s guaranteed. We’ll see how Harper’s tongue loosens when you’re gorging on the tender, young flesh of his children. If they thought that their lives were hell already, they will get a surprise…”

deus ex machina

1.

Adam felt his brother poking him in the back.

“Adam!” Jake said, straining to be heard over the growl of the bike. “Look up there. That bastard McGuire’s watching us.”

The curtains of the front bedroom window were held back by a shadowy figure, looking down on them.

“Fuck him. He’s the least of our worries now.”

Adam swung the bike through the open green gates and down the drive, squeezing the brake just before the garage. The bike shuddered to a stop, and he turned off the engine.

“How’s your head?” Jake asked, climbing off.

Adam removed his baseball cap and scratched his shaven skull.

“Fine. It went fine as soon as we got away from him.”

A chill washed over Jake’s skin at the mere mention of
him
.

“It was like…like I could feel him, right here-” Adam pressed a finger into his forehead. “It was almost like he was rummaging around in my head, like a fucking…a fucking mental rape…”

Jake swallowed and licked his dry lips. “Let’s get the bike inside.”

“I’m creeped out,” said Adam, hunched over the handlebars. “This is too weird…”

“I said get the bike inside,” snapped Jake.

Head down, Adam climbed off the bike and wheeled it inside the garage. He flicked the switch that illuminated the single bulb suspended from the ceiling. After leaning the bike on its kickstand, he collapsed onto the beaten old sofa. From his tracksuit pocket, he removed a pack of cigarettes, lit one up and blew out a long plume of smoke.

“What we gonna do, bruv?”

Jake slammed the garage door closed.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“We put the frighteners on him. He won’t be back.”

“We frightened him?” shouted Adam, the cigarette falling from his mouth. “Are you insane?”

Jake kicked the table, knocking the full ashtray and empty beer cans onto the floor.

“He’s just a man, for Christ’s sake. All evening I’ve had to listen to your crackpot theories and mumbo-jumbo bullshit! Get a fucking grip, man.”

Adam stood, squaring up against his brother.

“Then how did he know all those things, eh? Because he was in here!” He tapped his head. “Everything was in here and he could read it like a fucking book.”

“Sit down.”

“No! I fucking won’t sit down!”

“Screw you, then.”

Jake turned away and strode to the stereo sitting in the corner. He pressed play, filling the garage with thumping dance music.

Adam returned to his seat on the sofa, his head in his hands.

“Look,” said Jake and sat next to him. “We can sort this out. We’re the Dean brothers. No one fucks with us.”

“Well he fucked with me, good and proper. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was him that locked us in the wardrobe—”

Three heavy blows pounded against the garage door.

Adam cried out and clutched his brother by the arm.

“Someone’s out there,” he said, gaze locked on the door.

“Probably just the wind,” suggested Jake, though his heart raced.

Boom-boom-boom

“That’s no wind,” said Adam. “Maybe it’s—”

“Don’t say it. He’s gone. He wouldn’t dare-”

“Then prove it,” said Adam, nodding towards the door.

“Me?”

Boom-boom-boom

“They’re not going away!” said Adam.

Jake stood up.

“Fine. I’ll show you.” He wiped his sweaty palms against the back of his black jeans and slowly walked to the door. “There’s not going to be anyone there. It’s just the wind…”

“He’s here. I know it!”

Jake took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle. He closed his eyes. More blows hammered the other side of the wood.

He opened the door.

Chubby white fingers slid around the side and pulled in with a sudden jerk. The door swung wide; the handle flying out of Jake’s hand. He jumped back with a yell.

“Have you any idea what time it is?”

“Mum?”

Jenny, her nightgown billowing around her body, stepped out of the dark and into the garage.

“Are you two out of your minds? Turn that music off before someone calls the police.”

She looked past Jake.

“Adam? What’s wrong with you?”

Adam lay sprawled on the sofa, eyes closed, hand on his chest.

“I’m…I’m okay,” he gasped. “Just…just a little shock.”

Jake laughed, a strange mix of nerves and relief. “You really shit him up!”

“Look,” said Jenny, pointing. “One of you turn that music off now, or I’ll…”

“You’ll what, Mum? What will you do?”

“I’ll…I’ll…” she stammered.

“Jake?” said Adam, sitting bolt upright on the sofa.

“You shouldn’t even be here, this is our place…” continued Jake.

“Bro?” A pause. “Bro!”

Jake huffed. “Shut up, Adam.”

“Look!”

Adam pointed a shaking finger at the open garage door.

The man dipped his bowler.

“Play nice with the Megathon,” he smiled. “Call this a lesson, you filthy urchins. Ta ta!”

He gave a dainty wave and shoved the garage door closed.

Adam shot up from the sofa and ran to his brother. He grabbed Jake by the lapels of his jacket and shook him.

“I told you,” he screamed. “I told you he’d be back…”

“Get off me, you fucking lunatic!”

Jenny manoeuvred between them, her bulk pushing them apart.

“Boys. Stop it.”

“I told him,” Adam raved, pointing at Jake.

Jenny fidgeted with her wedding ring on her chain.