The Debt Collector

The scream tore through the silence like a knife through flesh.

It wasn't human.

Elias knew the sounds of dying men. He was familiar with the wails of gamblers losing their last coin, of outlaws drawing their final breath, of the hopeless crying for mercy they'd never taste.

This wasn't that.

This was something older. Something hungry.

The lanterns running along the alley flared up in a flash of white-hot light and then faded altogether. The entire world fell into darkness.

Selene moved first. A rush of movement as she pressed her back against him, dagger held high, eyes bright and scanning.

"Move," she hissed.

Elias was already gripping his gun. His breathing was steady, but his pulse was pounding.

A whisper had spoken his name. It had spoken of debts.

And now something had come to claim.

The rain was gone. The streets were wrong. The air was dense, closing in like a vice. Even the buildings appeared to shift, their edges dissolving, as if the town itself was dissolving into something other.

Then, footsteps.

Slow. Measured. Reverberating too much in the deserted silence.

Elias faced the direction of the sound.

Something came out of the shadows.

Tall. Enshrouded in a tattered black duster that swept the sodden cobblestones. Its face was shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat, and under it, the void.

No skin. No bone.

Just a void. A nothingness that shifts, that writhes.

The Collector.

Elias had heard rumblings about it before.

A legend, a ghost story whispered in the kind of places where men owed more than they could afford. The thing that arrived when debts came due.

And now, it had come for him.

The air grew colder. The figure stopped short of the alley, an unmoving statue waiting.

Elias gripped his revolver tighter. "No disrespect," he said evenly, "but you selected the wrong man to haunt tonight."

The Collector did not move. But when it spoke, its voice was a low guttural echo scraping against the inside of Elias's skull.

"And you assume incorrectly, Elias Thorne. I have come for the right man.'

The shadows at its feet slithered out, reaching toward him as though they were grasping fingers.

Selene reacted instantly. She snatched Elias's coat and pushed, stumbling him backward as she tossed a blade toward the figure.

The dagger found its target where a heart should be.

And did nothing.

The weapon evaporated into the void.

Selene cursed. There was scarcely time for Elias to right himself before the Collector moved.

Not a step. Not a lunge.

One moment it stood at the mouth of the alley.

The next was inches away.

Elias was fired.

The gunshot fired, echoing in the small room. The bullet crashed into the figure's chest.

And vanished.

And just like a stone into the bottomless pit.

"Your weapons do not concern me," intoned the Collector.

Then, it reached for him.

Elias didn't have enough time to react before the thing's hand closed around his throat.

The world spun. His vision blurred.

Cold.

An unbearable, unnatural cold that seeped into his skin, into his bones. It wasn't just cold; it was void. A gnawing, hollow void that threatened to suck him in.

His lungs seized. His heart stuttered.

In a distant place, Selene called out his name.

And then.

A flash of fire.

An unexpected burst of heat in the cold.

The Collector pulled back, hissing as it set Elias free.

Elias hit the ground, coughing, his hand flying to his throat. His vision flowed, his pulse leaden, his limbs numb.

Through the haze, he saw Selene, standing halfway between him and the Collector, a smoldering vial in her grip.

The air was heavy with the smell of brimstone.

Selene's voice was blade-smooth. "You don't get to take him."

The Collector is frozen in time, a long, stretched moment. Then its head tilted, as if to study her.

"You protect him," it said softly.

Selene tightened her hold on the empty vial. "Damn right I do."

The Collector coughed a long, rattling breath.

"Then you, too, are marked."

Selene went rigid.

The darkness around the Collector writhed.

The lanterns along the street flickered violently.

And then, as quickly as it had manifested, the Collector was gone.

It left a silence, and that silence was unbearable.

Elias coughed and sat himself up. His body still felt off, his limbs stiff and heavy, his chest tight, but he was alive.

Selene looked at him, her expression impossible to read. "Can you stand?"

"Give me a second," Elias rasped. "It's not every day that I get choked out by a fucking ghost."

Selene reached down, took his arm, and hoisted him to his feet. "That wasn't a ghost."

Elias rubbed his throat. "No kidding."

Selene exhaled sharply. "It marked me."

Elias's gut twisted. He did not know precisely what that meant, but he knew it was not good.

Selene must have noticed his expression because hers hardened. "We need to find Alistair. Now."

Elias nodded. "Agreed."

Because this had ceased to be about returning his luck, anyway.

This was about survival.

And Elias wasn't paying a debt he never accepted.

A Dangerous Lead

They turned away from the alley, fleeing through the shadowy streets. Elias's body still ached with the Collector's touch, but he ignored it.

Selene was focused and purposeful, but he could see her jaw was tense. The burden of the mark she now bore.

He hated that.

Elias had been running from things like this his entire life. He was supposed to catch the blow, to bear the burden, to pay the toll.

Not her.

Never her.

Selene glanced at him. "You're thinking too hard."

Elias forced a smirk. "I do that sometimes."

"Don't."

Elias huffed a quiet laugh. Even now, even with the Collector over their shoulders, she still knew precisely what was passing through his mind.

But she wasn't wrong.

Thinking wouldn't save them.

Action would.

"Where do we start?" he asked.

Selene didn't hesitate. "Alistair knows people in this town. Individuals who traffic in things they should not."

Elias adjusted his coat. "Sounds like my kind of dudes."

Selene shot him a look. "We talk first. No shooting."

Elias grinned. "Well, that depends on the talking."

Selene rolled her eyes, but she didn't complain.

The night spread out ahead of them all shadows and unanswered questions.

One thing was certain in Elias's mind.

The game wasn't over.

Not yet.

But the stakes had suddenly gotten a hell of a lot higher.