The Sin Collector (4 page)

I was staring at the letter and keys when I heard a soft tapping at the door. I sighed and walked over to the door. I wondered if I looked as frazzled as I felt. The young man at the door looked like an average college student. He was easily six feet tall, and muscular but not overly so, maybe a football player. He was dressed in what appeared to be a new pair of jeans, you could still see the pleats where they had been folded on the rack and tennis shoes with a pressed button down blue shirt. A backpack slung over one shoulder. He waved when he saw me, and pointed to the sign on the window.

“
Aren’t you supposed to be open until seven?”

I sighed heavily. “Public Health Emergency, we can’t reopen until tomorrow,” I said somewhat convincingly.

His friendly smile faded into a frown and he blinked his sea-foam colored eyes at me confused. He hesitated a moment and then left. Normally I would have felt bad about potentially hindering a student’s productivity, but I could barely think straight. I tried to convince myself there was a positive aspect to this disastrous never-ending day. I had the whole library to myself. I could search Jimmy’s entire office and anywhere else I pleased and no one would bother me. That thought made me feel a little better and I got to searching.

Five hours later I had gone through all of the filing cabinets in storage, all the closed stacks and Jimmy’s entire hard drive. I had used every search engine I could possibly think of to look for Christopher Owens. There was no record of him at all. Even the social security database came up empty. The last Christopher Owens with a SSN had died six years ago. I had come up with absolutely nothing. At nine, I finally locked up the library for good and drove home. Valentine was sound asleep on my laptop and barely even looked at me when I flicked on the light. I pushed him aside and opened up the computer clicking to my internet auction page. In all the crap of the past two days, I had forgotten to check it. I was happy to see four of my items had sold. It was one perk of having lived so long, eventually my junk fetched a price. I would have to go to the store and buy shipping stuff for the two beveled mirrors from the 1920’s, the antique letter opener from the early 17
^th
century that Olexander had left behind, and the antique poison ring an admirer had given me in the 1930’s. I looked at my bank account, 1,678 dollars. Not bad. I tried to sell the antiques in small quantities so as not to draw too much attention to myself. Luckily, I was not overly greedy. I had been able to hold back with the full knowledge that I had over half a million dollars worth of antiques just in my local self-storage facility. Let alone the other seven facilities I had all over the world.

Of course, some antiques never left my side. There was the round silver locket that I had owned as long as I could remember. The pendant, with an L engraved on its embellished face. When opened it revealed a space for a tiny picture on one side and a clock on the other. I had tucked some lilac petals into it many years ago after William left, seeing as how I didn’t have a photo. I had a handwritten copy of Romeo and Juliet, in Shakespeare’s own handwriting. Olexander had given it to me on my eighteenth birthday.

My perfectly crafted throwing knives sat in a large oak box on my mantel. They had not been my first instruction in combat. Yet they were the only combat technique in which I excelled. Give me a bow and arrow and I’d manage to shoot out my own eye. However, a knife, any size, any make and I would hit the mark from twenty feet away every time. Of course, among all those things sat the one item that would probably fetch the highest price. A relatively small, extremely ornate box sat in a drawer in my dresser. Within it were the tools of a Collector, my 20
^th
birthday present from Olexander. I closed my eyes and shook the memory of that day off as best I could.

I picked up the phone and called the local Children’s hospital. After weaving a lie claiming myself to be Emma’s Aunt, they finally let me know that she would be fine. I felt better instantly and decided to go for a drive. I drove forgetfully throughout town, not paying attention to where I was going. The speed and balance necessary to operate the bike was distracting enough. Two tanks of gas later, I saw the first glimmer of sunrise and headed back home to change and get ready for work. I wiggled myself into my new skinny jeans, and chose a simple black v-neck sweater. The knee-high motorcycle boots completed my look. I still had far too much time to get ready, and so I once more my makeup looked like I was going to a chic club, not work.

I roared into the lot, parking in my usual spot by the alley. I had just pushed the key into the lock when I heard a friendly “Hello” come from behind me. I pushed the door open and when I looked back, I realized it was the same man from last night.

“Good Morning” I said, trying to sound friendly and allowing him to go inside, where he sat at one of the tables five yards from my own desk. I tried to act normal but I was distracted and for once not because of cryptic emails. He was much better looking than I remembered, but I knew I hadn’t really been paying attention last night with all the near death insanity. Today he was wearing a deep burgundy colored t-shirt that hugged his chest in all the right ways, and a pair of faded jeans. He had an old grey army-style jacket, which he draped over the back of his chair. His haircut was very short. It was hard to tell the exact color of it, some variant of brown I suppose. He was pale with just the slightest bit of an olive skin tone. He had a very kind and friendly smile, and those strange eyes. The strangest color that I had ever seen in a hundred years, I laughed, thinking that maybe I should try that as a new pick up line. He had taken at least six books out of his backpack and was reading intently switching between them writing in a notebook every few minutes. No sign of Jimmy today, as his note had said, but I was still surprised.

I was trying desperately to focus on my work. When I heard the door open, I looked up unsurprised to see George already dragging a chair over to my desk. This morning we didn’t even keep up his book charade, he jumped right into conversation easily.

“So what are we going to do today Lilypad? There was a special on the Discovery Channel about tattoos last night. I always wanted a tattoo, how bout it?”

He was grinning ear to ear, and I had the feeling he had been working on his material all night. I narrowed my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him just as the mysterious man pulled another book out of his bag and caught my attention. George followed my eyes to the desk and back to me.

“See something you like Lilypad? He might be young but I can still take him for your affections. I was a championship boxer in ’52.”

I looked at him skeptically. “A boxer huh? That will be something to see. Well have at it then.”

“You’d let an old man box for you. Do you
see
that guy? All he would have to do is look at me and it would probably break my good hip.” The incredulous tone of his voice was hilarious. That, coupled with the look on his face, had me laughing so hard I couldn’t stop and soon I heard his booming laugh join mine.

“George you’re going to get me fired. I have to get these loan orders done.” I said still laughing.

“Fine, fine I’ll return these books to the shelves for you. I live to serve the beautiful ladies.”

I was staring at my computer, when the unfamiliar voice broke the silence.

“He certainly seems like a piece of work.” The mystery man said smiling. “I wonder if you can tell me when Mr. Whitby will be arriving.”

It caught me off guard to hear someone refer to Jimmy in such a formal way.

“Um, Mr. Whitby is supposed to be out the rest of the day. I can tell him you were looking for him, what was your name?”

My hand froze on my message pad as he spoke.

“Owens, Christopher Owens.”

The sound of books hitting the ground broke through my sudden adrenaline rush. I looked up just in time to see George fall to his knees and then to his stomach, lying there unmoving next to a large pile of books.

“
George.” I screamed, racing to his side. Christopher was the only other person in the library today and was right behind me. I rolled George onto his back. He was unconscious and it looked like he was gasping for air.

“The phone at the desk, call 911.” I shrieked to Christopher, who was up and at the phone in record time.

“Come on George, please wake up.” I tapped his cheek lightly with my palm, trying to bring him around. Suddenly his eyes flickered open and he stared directly into my eyes. It made me uncomfortable, but if it would make him stay awake, I would deal with the consequences later. George was using all of his energy to try to speak.

“Sorry George, no talking, try to conserve your energy, the medics will be here soon,” I said as emotion began to color my voice.

He shook his head feebly and I thought my heart might break right there on the spot.

Olexander always told me never to take too much interest in humans. “They are very interesting creatures” he had said, “deeper than you would think, for ones who live so briefly, but in the end they will always die, there is no escaping it, and when they do you will only be hurt.”

George’s sudden intense whisper broke through my own sad thoughts.

“
I…..remember…..you.” He choked out.

I nodded, “Yes George it’s me Lily, in the library, hang on George.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

“
No…I remember you…in Japan….you looked the same.”

It felt as if my stomach and heart had fallen completely out of my body. I began to shush him, telling him once again to save his energy. He struggled against the gasping coming from his own lungs and suddenly clutched my hand. He used the last of his strength to pull me closer to his lips. He gasped painfully every few words.

“April 24
^th
…1945…we breached… the Machinato line…we stopped to rest and resupply…I was wounded...we had so many wounded….even more dead…”

My entire body felt like it had been dumped in ice water. George had been there? George had seen
me
there. How could he remember? I had come to the line with the supply truck. The infantry commander was especially superstitious and strongly believed in the old ways. I had never even discovered how the Commander had found me. That night I performed the ritual of a Collector over 400 times on boys who looked far too young to be anywhere other than a playground. It had been too much. Japan was one of the last times I had ever performed the rites of a Collector. It was not the sins that overwhelmed me, but the loss of hope. I didn’t ever want to witness death again after that. Yet here I was, I could see the light of George’s eyes dimming, and I couldn’t lie to him.

“
All this time and you remember me?” I whispered into his ear. When I leaned back, he was smiling. As though my confirmation had given him an extra burst of life.

“I knew it,” He breathed. “I would recognize those eyes anywhere. The first time I saw you behind the desk.”

I suddenly felt full of guilt and remorse. “I don’t do that anymore,” I whispered, ashamed. What if somehow George couldn’t find peace without me?

“You….don’t….have to,” He gasped while still holding a big smile firmly in place. “Anne’s here.”

Then he was gone. I felt his grip on my hand loosen and his eyes closed slowly. I sat back to lean against the bookshelves, sobbing now so hard I was shaking. The medics came around the corner then, but I knew it was too late. A soft hand clutched my elbow to help me to my feet. Only when I caught a glimpse of his strange sea-foam colored eyes did I remember his existence at all. My heart began to pick up pace immediately. What had he heard? How could I have been so reckless? In front of
him
of all people? I couldn’t speak. I was still shocked and crying. He sat me down at my desk pulling a chair up next to me. I sat there motionless for an uncertain amount of time. Finally a medic said something about coming back to file paperwork and I watched them roll out the stretcher. I was reminded that I wasn’t sitting alone when the puzzling man patted my back trying to soothe me and I let my head fall down into my hands.

“Shhhh” he whispered gently in my ear as he stroked my hair. “It’s all going to be ok LiLi.”

I sat bolt upright and stared directly into his eyes. It was only then that I realized exactly why his eyes were such a strange color.

Chapter 3

“William?” Was all I could force myself to say.

“Actually I just go by Billy now; William is a bit old fashioned.”