“They’re dead,” Gabriel slid his phone across the table, the photo glaring up at their client as evidence of their hunt tonight. Cigar smoke was stinking up the whole damned office, but he’d tolerate pretty much anything right now for the hefty reward they were about to split.
“Chuck, turn the damn lights on, we’re not in a fucking pool hall,” Gabriel snapped as he gave a dirty look at his adopted father before leaning back in his chair and gazing intently at their client. The only light they had on right now was Chuck’s desk lamp. It made Gabriel feel like a lowlife thug holding this guy up for dirty money.
Chuck, the weathered old bastard, glared at him, “I like it this way.” From his shoulder-length brown and gray hair he never seemed to want to brush or cut, to his grizzled eyebrows, bleary eyes, and faded Hawaiian shirt, Chuck always was and always would be a cheap mother fucker. It wasn’t great for business.
“Chuck made a few calls yesterday, by the way. We want the payment tonight. No installment plans. All of it.” Gabriel went on, “how does that sound, Harry?”
Chuck nodded, taking another drag off his cigar, “cash. Heard from a couple of friends you like to bounce checks.”
They probably wouldn’t have bothered to deal with these ghouls at all if the things weren’t a hazard to the city, and if they could get better clientele. The bills were piling up, though, so for the moment guys like this were the best they could do.
Harry shifted in his seat, tugging at his too-tight collar on his too-small shirt, “that’s--that’s a lot. All at once.” he slid the phone across the desk. “I’ll see what I can do, but you may have to wait a few more weeks. We agreed on installments. I’ll admit I may have had a few bad checks, but they got their money in the end.”
Chuck cleared his throat, reaching for his solo cup and tossing back a bit of his personal favorite rotgut, “course you could stiff us. There’s no cops or lawyers who’d say we weren’t crazy, going out and offing spooks. Then you’d take the risk nobody’d ever help you again with this sort of thing. You’ve burned all your bridges, Harry. We’re all you’ve got left. Get another ghoul on your back, not one hunter out there’d be around to get it off. So, you really want to chance it? You really think you’re gonna be safe, lightning won’t strike a fourth time? You really...”
Half an hour later, Gabriel was still restraining Louise, keeping her from wringing Chuck’s neck after the guy had beat it and burned rubber in the parking lot without a red cent left behind for their trouble.
Chuck didn’t seem fazed at all, still sitting back, drinking and smoking his cigar. By the smug look on his face, Gabriel would’ve thought he expected Harry to come back at any moment with a briefcase full of cash.
“Damn it, that was the first bite we’ve had in a month!” Louise snapped.
Gabriel waited until she’d calmed down enough to stop trying to pry his grip from her waist. The last thing they needed was a hospital bill for Chuck’s broken nose. Even if he had it coming right now. They’d all worked hard to have this payoff, and now they weren’t getting a dime.
“Why do you always have to open your stupid mouth?” Louise went on, stomping towards her desk nearby and slamming herself down into her chair.
Chuck pointed the stub of his cigar at her, “hey, don’t you start back talkin’ me girly, I do what has to be done because no one else will. Just you wait and see, another one’ll pop up and take a chunk out of him, they always do. That guy is a ghoul magnet. I bet you ten to one some gypsy cursed his dumb ass for trying to stiff her too!”
Gabriel looked at him wearily, some of his anger dissipating now that it seemed like his lack of sleep was catching up with him, “that’ll do us a hell of a lot of good when he’s dead and we’re still broke, Chuck. Who knows if he’ll even be able to come back to pay us?” Gabriel walked over to the light switch and flipped it on, despite his better judgment. What was a couple more bucks on the electricity bill if they couldn’t pay it anyway?
The waiting room of the former vet clinic was bathed in a warm yellow glow, reminding him just how pathetic their ‘headquarters’ really was. Some hunters they were. Four shabby desks aligned in a semi-circle across from a linoleum-topped counter. A makeshift kitchen area just behind it with a grill top and a ten-buck coffee maker piled on top of their banged-up filing cabinets. Then, of course, a mini fridge right beside them so close to its last leg he could actually hear the motor inside it struggling to work. The whole place was just about as sad as the last remaining poster on the back wall of a faded, dying puppy.
Gabriel looked back at Chuck, “we really needed that money.”
Chuck shrugged, nonplussed, “just go talk to the Collector, he’ll pay you. Fuck Harry, he doesn’t know what or who he’s dealing with.”
Lee, who’d been hiding out behind the counter as he hurriedly typed up their latest ad, stood up and gently set his laptop down. “I’m not too sure we’ll be able to make rent next month if we don’t make a few changes. Chuck, sir, I hate to say it but maybe you should consider therapy. Or going for a walk when we have clients in the building. Or staying home more often. I think any of these options would work.” He adjusted his glasses, quickly averting his eyes. He was a sheep in accountant’s clothing. He also just so happened to be the calmest person there, which they really needed right now anyway.
“We’ll go to the Collector,” Gabriel decided, “I don’t like it, but we’re due for something from the son of a bitch.” He glanced over at Lee, “you and Louise, check out that clinic job we’ve been putting off. Chuck, you and Danny get to come with, since you like the guy so much. How’s that sound?”
Chuck let out another snort, “I’m not retiring,” He informed Lee before directing his attention towards Gabriel, “you’re gonna take me with you to see the Collector? Really? You think that’s the best idea?”
Gabriel smiled back at him, nodding, “I think it’s a great idea. You two probably have plenty to catch up on.”
The front door slowly creaked open as their freshly-brewed lord and savior arrived, carried by none other than Danny himself. Coffee. The great equalizer. They had a lot of work to do tonight, and there was no way they’d be able to do it without a dangerous supply of caffeine. That was why they’d hired him, and think what they might about Danny’s ability to do anything else right, he was a master at fetching coffee.
Gabriel grinned, “hey, Danny, we’ve got someone we want you to meet.”
----------------------------------------
This had been a great idea, going to the Collector. Danny had no idea what Chuck’s problem was. Sure the guy was a little uptight but really, he wasn't that bad. He'd even given Danny free rein in his wine cellar as long as it wasn't too expensive.
He ran his fingers over the bottles, he got to choose six bottles, already had five, “come on, pick something already,” Danny whispered impatiently at himself, it was harder than it looked, choosing wine. He paused when his fingers met with warm glass. No label. Was wine supposed to be warm? Maybe it was some kind of weird spiced one he didn’t know about. Danny’s grasp of physics was tentative at best, and his knowledge of wine even less.
“No label,” he mused, “well, you can't be worth too much.” He pulled the bottle out and put it in the box with the others. Tonight was shaping up to be a good night after all, they were getting paid and they got to get drunk. What could be better?
A raucous argument began upstairs, interrupting Danny’s thoughts. He really didn't want to see what was going on, but his arms were going numb holding the half case of wine for so long. He’d spent way too much time picking that last bottle.
“Danny, hurry the hell up down there before Chuck tears the damned house apart!” Gabriel called down to him, the irritation palpable enough to make Danny cringe. Even if it wasn’t directed at him, he hated to be around people when they were arguing. Whenever it came to fists, he always seemed to stand in the way and catch a few punches in the process.
As quick as he could Danny leapt up the steps, bottles clinking in his box all the while, “I've got it, I'm coming, it's heavy though! Could someone get the door for me?” He shouted back, fumbling with the doorknob.
A bony hand curved around the edge of the door, yanking it open to reveal the very gaunt and very irritated face of none other than the Collector. Also the creepiest-looking human being alive this side of sanity.
“I would appreciate if all of you endeavoured not to shatter the windows with your inane shouting,” the old man informed Danny curtly, glancing down at the box in his hands.
“Not that one,” the Collector grabbed one of the labeled bottles, “it’s a first growth. The rest are fine,” He looked at the unlabelled bottle nestled in the corner of the box with an amused expression. “Interesting choice. Let me know what you think of that one. It’s a rare vintage, but not quite to my taste.”
Danny swallowed hard and nodded, “y-yeah, sure.” They stood there together looking at each other. The Collector had this funny way of eyeing Danny that made him want to apologize for even breathing.
“Umm, would you pick another one for me, so I don’t screw it up and pick a bad one?” Danny asked, just desperate to get away from the man.
“Very well,” the Collector turned an accusing eye back towards Chuck, who had been lounging against a marble island in the kitchen behind them, “do try and bathe next time you show up unannounced, sir.”
“I'll be sure to do just that,” Chuck snarked back.
Gabriel stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the pair as if he expected one of them to launch themselves into a fight at any moment.
Clearing his throat, Gabriel nodded at Danny, “Come on. You’ll be seeing more of this place, so I’ll give you a quick tour. I’ll try to make it fast before Chuck breaks anything. Apparently he thought it’d be funny to make all the paintings in the parlor crooked or some shit, and one of them almost fell. Let’s go,” he looked back at the Collector, “it’ll give them some time to finish acting like idiots,” he added under his breath.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Danny nodded, walking out of the kitchen and into the parlor to set the box down, before following Gabriel’s lead.
“So, what did Louise already tell you about this guy?” Gabriel led them down the hall towards a large foyer they’d originally entered through. Two ornate marble lions stood at the foot of the stairs. In the fashion of anything a creepy old man like the Collector would own, their eyes seemed to follow Danny and Gabriel at every step.
“Not much. His real name is Ruben, he’s where most of our good jobs come from, and he likes to collect weird crap.” He shook his head, “yeah, so maybe he’s scum, but without the Collector, we’d probably go out of business.” Gabriel’s eyes slid towards the marble lions, and a peculiar look passed over his face. Fear, maybe?
“Creepy little shits, aren't they?” Gabriel strode towards one of the statues, patting it on the head. “Every single thing in this place has a story. Did Louise tell you why we call him the Collector?” He eased his hand off of the statue, as if sudden movement would cause it to come to life and attack. The thing’s eyes looked real enough; it wouldn't be surprising.
Danny shook his head, “no.”
Gabriel skipped up a few of the steps, turning back to look at Danny, “you know,” he cleared his throat, “sometimes when you help people, you gotta get your hands dirty. Ruben is the dirty part. Keeps the lights running when we can't get other clients to pay. We bring him things from our hunts-” he paused, looking back over his shoulder as if he expected the old man to sneak up on them at any second, “we wouldn't give them to him if he used them. He doesn't, though. He just collects. That's all he really is. A collector.”
“Like, what do we give him? What kind of things? How would he use them? Do I even want to know?” Danny asked, trying to keep a note of fear from creeping into his voice. What exactly were they giving the guy?
“This time it was just a couple of teeth,” Gabriel explained, “a few bones. Sometimes it's something bigger.” He turned back, reaching the top of the stairs and sweeping his arms out, “the whole second story is packed with the stuff we’ve brought him. Cursed objects, sacred books, things like that. I wouldn’t worry too much. If you don't touch them. Don't breathe on them. Don’t look at them.” Gabriel nodded towards a portrait of dead flowers hanging on the wall, “don't talk to them. Follow those rules, and it’s all harmless.”
Danny kept his eyes lowered to the steps, climbing up after Gabriel, and trying to avoid looking at anything now. What the hell were they getting themselves into here?
Gabriel laughed, clapping Danny on the shoulder, “spooked yet?”
Danny jumped, yelping, and scrambling up to the top step to avoid tripping over his own feet. “That was mean!” He paused, looking up at the portrait of dead flowers Gabriel had indicated earlier, “you're not serious, right?”
“No, of course I’m not,” Gabriel grinned, pushing open the nearest door once they’d managed to distance themselves from the top of the stairs, “they’re never harmless.”
Danny swallowed hard, staying close behind him. There was no way he wanted to set something off, “what're we doing up here?” He asked softly, looking around.
“Ruben’s going on a trip next month. Not safe to hire a regular joe to look after the place. Definitely not going to leave the house without anyone keeping an eye on all this junk. I’m just showing you the room you’re gonna stay in.” Gabriel flipped on the light, revealing an almost spartan bedroom, with nothing but a bed and a small table inside, “safest room in the house. The rest of us are staying down the hall...figured I’d show you while we’re here so you don't make any wrong turns next time we drop in.”
“We’re all staying.” Danny sighed in relief, at least he wasn't going to be alone, “So, umm, what does looking after the place entail? There aren't any hellhounds or mummies or anything, right?”
“What? Hellhounds?” Gabriel laughed, “no such thing, Danny. All we’ve gotta do is keep people away. That’s it. Pretty much the easiest gig we’ll ever get.” He paused, “like I said, just don't touch anything and if you're going upstairs, always pet the lions.”
Danny crossed his arms, growing skeptical, “we didn’t when we came up.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow, “I did. If you didn't, that's your problem. Just means you'll have to go out through the fire escape window if you want to get out of the house in one piece.”
“I don’t believe you.” Danny lied, putting on a brave face.
“Fine,” Gabriel held his hands up, “your choice. Don't say I didn't warn you.” He left the room and started to skip back downstairs, “they should be done bitching at each other by now.” As Gabriel headed down, he rolled up his sweater sleeves, revealing multiple scars up and down his forearms. Danny had seen them before, but he’d kept his questions to himself. Gabriel didn’t strike him as a former junkie.
“Hurry it up, Danny,” Gabriel called out over his shoulder, jumping the last couple of steps and giving one of the lions another pat on the head.
Danny nodded, slowly descending the stairs. Gabriel was just screwing with him. The lions wouldn’t do anything. They were just statues. Just creepy statues. He held his breath, praying to god he was right, when his foot finally breached the very last step.
“Watch out!” Gabriel shouted, throwing himself to the ground.
Danny screamed and fell down beside him, curling into a ball, making himself as small as possible.
Gabriel burst out laughing. “Holy shit, you’re gullible.” He climbed to his feet and knelt down in front of Danny, “glad to have you on the team.”
“You, you--” Danny looked up at him, “you asshole!”
“Just keeping you on your toes.” Gabriel was shamelessly unapologetic. “It was just a joke, I wouldn’t have let you come back down if it was true.”
Danny grumbled, getting to his feet slowly, “It wasn’t funny”
“The Collector does want us to pat the lions when we’re in the house, but he says it only takes one time and you’re safe. Not that I think the damn things are actually alive. Hard to tell what’s decoration and what’s not in here, so better safe than sorry.” He looked Danny up and down thoughtfully, “what got you in this line of business anyway?”
“I saw things. Things I shouldn’t have.” Danny looked toward the front door, “It was prom…”
Gabriel nodded, “what, girlfriend get an alien parasite in her g-string? Bloodsuckers crash the last dance? Ghost steal the queen’s tiara?”
Danny shook his head, “blob creature ate my girlfriend.”
“Wow,” Gabriel exclaimed, dropping the tough guy act and putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “must’ve been pretty rough.”
“Yeah,” Danny nodded, “it was. What about you? What got you started?”
Gabriel scratched at a small spot on his right arm, eyeing two of the larger scars. They all lined up in pairs. “Vampire ate my parents when I was twelve. Kidnapped me and snacked on a bunch of us in his basement until Chuck showed up to save us. I was already infected, but I never killed anyone. Once he sliced the fucker’s head off, I went back to normal and made my choice to be a hunter.” Gabriel gave him a quick salute and headed back to where they’d left the others bickering. Danny was glad he hadn’t asked about the scars.
“Why’s it covered in a sheet? Picture of your old lady?” Chuck sniped loudly from the parlor. They’d apparently taken their fight out of the kitchen and migrated across the hall.
“I keep it covered out of respect for the deceased,” the Collector shot back loudly, “a concept you know nothing about!”
Danny lingered by the lions, glancing back and forth between them and frowning suspiciously. Had one of them just moved? No, that was crazy. He tried to laugh at himself, only able to summon a breathy squeak, then quickly followed Gabriel back into the parlor.
The Collector was standing in front of his fireplace mantle straightening something above it, very carefully. Judging by the shape under the sheet, and the remarks he’d heard them slinging at each other, Danny could only assume it was the picture Chuck mentioned. Why bother leaving it up just to hide it?
Once he was apparently satisfied, the Collector spun about and smoothed a hand through the wispy strips of hair he still had plastered to his head, “though your manners always leave something to be desired, and perhaps you’d be better suited to a barn than a house, I have unfortunately failed time and again to find quite such an accomplished group as yours--” he paused, “your presence in particular notwithstanding,” the old man began to pace, keeping his focus on Chuck, “I trust your man has taken care of the details of our latest arrangement. You may leave the items over there,” he nodded back towards his monster of a secretary desk. The odd way he referred to Gabriel like some lackey set Danny aback. Chuck was the oldest member of their group, but Gabriel was the one who called all the shots.
“You may be a windbag but it's always nice working for you. Yeah, everything’s taken care of,” Chuck snorted, “would you expect anything less?”
Gabriel fished into his coat pocket to pull out a small wrapped package and dropped it onto the Collector’s desk, “we’re gonna go ahead and take the wine out to the car. Give us a shout when you two are done in here.” He apparently didn’t really care how he was treated as long as they got paid. “Danny?” Gabriel looked over at him, “you ready?”
Danny nodded, quickly rushing over to where they’d left their box of bottles, scooping it clumsily into his arms. He very nearly dropped it as they left the room.
“Here, I’ll take it,” Gabriel grabbed the box from him.
Danny lingered behind to peek around the doorway curiously. What else could Chuck and the old man have left to say to each other? They didn’t seem like friends. Maybe it was none of his business, but curiosity got the better of him.
“Tell me,” the Collector struck a match against the fireplace mantle, pulling a metal cigarette case from his vest pocket, “do you ever worry about his predilections?” He flipped the cigarette case open.
“Gabe? What‘re you talking about?” Chuck scowled, “just come out and say what you mean.”
“Don’t be crass,” the old man lit one of his cigarettes with a dramatic flare, closing the cigarette case and tossing the blackened remains of his match into the fireplace, “you know perfectly well what I mean. I’ve seen the track marks on his arms. I’d ask Gabriel not to bring any drugs into my house next month if it can be helped. I may deal in certain questionably legal activities, but certainly not the sort that could get me arrested. I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
Chuck barked out a laugh, “kid’s not a user, never has been.” He shook his head, “he was a bloodsucker’s chew toy when he was a kid. Not that it’s any of your damn business.”
“Charming,” the Collector replied dryly, taking a long pull from his cigarette. He didn’t seem at all surprised, “that is somewhat more comforting, I suppose.”
“Nice chat, as always, Ruben,” Chuck replied testily. “I think it’s about time we get going before we start smelling like mothballs,” he remarked snidely and headed towards the door. Danny quickly scrambled back to avoid being knocked over.
“Enjoy your wine, boys. You’ve earned it,” Ruben laughed, waving them off. Maybe he was just glad he’d gotten a rise out of Chuck. Danny didn’t much care. All he knew was that if there was any doubt in his mind before, he definitely disliked this man now.
Chuck gave Danny a look, “you snooping on us, kid?”
“N-no!” Danny lied.
“That bastard gets under your skin. Nothing he ever says is worth listening to,” Chuck didn’t even seem mad. “Come on.”
They headed towards the foyer together
“Danny, what were you doing?” Gabriel asked. He was still standing at the open front door, the box of wine safely in his arms.
“Being a sneaky little bastard,” Chuck ruffled Danny’s hair in the condescending manner only a seasoned parent could master.
“I didn’t mean-” Danny stammered, trying to come up with an excuse.
“Don’t worry about it, let’s just get the hell outta here,” Chuck strode ahead, clearly rattled by the Collector’s remarks about Gabriel. Angry jerk or not, Chuck clearly cared about him.
“I think we should celebrate tonight. See if we can finish all of this crap in one go!” Gabriel shouted, jogging towards his truck, the box of wine clinking in his arms all the while.