The Collector Book One: Mana Leak

by Daniel I. Russell

  “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 cl
imbed 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.

  “What is he doing here?” demanded Jake, roaring at his mother. “Did you bring him back here?”

  “The pair of you just calm down,” she said. “Whatever he’s here for, it’s nothing to do with me. Jake, just because you’ve upset someone again, don’t go blaming it on me.” She sighed. “And someone turn off that damn music!”

  The garage walls shook. Something had struck the side.

  The CD in the stereo jumped and stopped, flooding the garage with silence. Shadows danced as the light bulb swung in a circle.

  “What the hell was that?” whispered Jake.

  Another tremor rattled the building.

  Jake cried out and fell against his mother.

  Adam staggered across the shaking floor to his family. They clung to each other for balance.

  The rear of the garage exploded, rubble flying as it was smashed through. Fragments fell in Jenny’s hair and coated the trio in a fine grey powder. The hole that emerged through the cloud of dust was metres in diameter with a broken edge of stone and curled metal supports, like a screaming mouth with jagged teeth of steel.

  All three screamed as the tall figure stepped through.

  The sparkling silver creation ducked to gain access. A leg pounded onto the garage floor. It appeared humanoid in shape with a silver orb for a head.

  Jenny clung to her boys.

  The dust settled, revealing the creature’s intricacies. Cogs, pistons and hundreds of other tiny mechanisms all worked at once, the entire body of the machina giant a constant hive of movement. Compartments broke apart, only to be shifted around the body and reattached in another location. The immaculate polished components slid against each other, the reflections a hypnotic kaleidoscope.

  The Megathon lurched forwards, scraping an arm against one of the remaining walls. Sparks sprayed out, the stone ground away simply by touch.

  Screaming over the high-pitched whirring of the machine, Jenny grabbed her sons and dragged them backwards to the garage door. All three, seized by panic, pushed against the wood. Their red-haired visitor had locked them in.

  The garage shook once more as the Megathon took another stride towards them. The sphere atop its shoulders spun, scattering light from the single bulb and casting a revolving light across the dusty walls.

  Behind it, the dark hole of its entrance stood clear.

  The boys clung to their mother, wailing in terror and gripping handfuls of her nightgown.

  She tried to say something, but the dump of adrenaline warbled her words.

  Both boys continued to shriek, casting terrified stares towards the approaching metal giant.

  Releasing Adam, Jenny swung an open hand at Jake, slapping him hard against his cheek.

  Jake blinked, his eyes focusing on his mother.

  “Get out,” she cried.

  She shoved to get him moving.

  Jake grabbed the front of his brother’s tracksuit top and pulled him off their mother.

  The Megathon had covered half the length of the garage. It walked into the makeshift table. The wooden top was instantly dragged into the machine, reduced to a shower of sawdust in seconds.

  The flawless ball continued to rotate, and the creature walked on.

  Jake, still tugging a hysterical Adam, clambered over the dog-eared sofa, keeping his b
ack pressed against the wall.

  Adam slipped and fell onto the green seat cushions. Jake pulled back him onto his feet.

  “Come on,” Jake yelled, stepping off the sofa.

  They crept alongside the Megathon, the giant steadily advancing towards the front of the garage, towards their mother.

  “Mum,” Jake yelled.

  Jenny stood frozen with her back against the door, the reflecting light from the Megathon dancing across her face.

  “Go!” she shouted.

  “No!”

  “Get Adam out of here.”

  The twins quickly sidled against the garage wall, arriving at the rear of the garage in seconds. Jake paused at the gaping hole and looked back.

  “Mum, run!

  She furiously shook her head. “Not until you’re both out,” she cried.

  The Megathon stopped, its long arms dangling by its sides.

  The seconds passed, and all three stared, mesmerized by the shifting silver network of mechanical complexity.

  “Go,” hissed Jenny.

  The Megathon jerked into movement, a hand reaching for her.

  “No!” screamed Adam, breaking free of his brother’s grip and diving forwards.

  2.

  Adam dashed across the garage, skirting around the Megathon and ducking under a sweeping arm. He threw himself in front of his mother.

  “Adam,” wailed Jake.

  The Megathon’s hand reached Adam first. The razor sharp mechanics snagged and ripped through his tracksuit, plunging into the soft flesh of his chest.

  He coughed, spraying blood into the air.

  Adam convulsed as the Megathon tightened its grip, metal spikes as thin as needles erupting from its hand. The spikes penetrated between his ribs and pierced his lungs. It pulled the shuddering body free from Jenny.

  Adam staggered towards the machine, blood trickling from his chin to join the spreading stain at his chest. A weak groan escaped from between his scarlet lips.

  The machine embraced him.

  His clothes ripped from his body, sucked into the Megathon and spewed from its back in a blizzard of fibres. His body exploded in a red geyser as he was yanked into the machine. Razor cogs reduced his face to a bloody mush, and gnashing gears ground his skull to wet powder.

  Jake fell shuddering to his knees.