The Collection 

by Sofi Heuchert

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       If it’s a good day, he’d come in twice. If it’s a bad day, only once. 

      On this summer afternoon, Barnes sat inside The Bounty, flipping through a catalogue in front of the register when Grimsbane strode through the door. The bell jingled from the top of the doorway alerting Barnes of the hunter’s arrival and seeing that it was that particular hunter, he immediately rose to greet him. 

      No one in the town of Deadwood knew Grimsbane’s real name. He’d just appear one day and no one ever dared question where he came from. Since his arrival, the creatures stopped coming close to town. Small favors.

       Everything in his appearance looked ragged. His tall frame, always wrapped in a tattered olive-green trench coat revealed dark underclothes― stained with mud and blood. That wasn’t even the worst part about him, though. His face remained concealed by a mustard handkerchief, only his bloodshot eyes unveiled. They seemed to always stare at the townspeople accusingly. Any visible skin was burnt and scarred. He seemed to never rest, always looking for monsters.

       Grimsbane’s discolored bag thumped against the counter as he took a seat. Barnes swallowed noticeably. The smell coming from the bag was unbearable, like sewage and rot.

     “Grimsbane! How you doing, big fella?” Barnes said. “What’d you bring in that bag of yours?”

        The man in question unknotted the top of the sack. It didn’t take Barnes long to notice two green-tinged severed arms. Then he noticed the other appendages. Half hidden by the body parts was a pair of translucent wings.

        “Faerie,” grunted Grimsbane. 

       Barnes looked at the contents of the bag in revolting awe. His fingers hovered over the body parts before snapping back into attention. 

       “Yes, yes, I can see that,” nodded Barnes. “Roger! C’mere boy, look what Grimsbane brought us!”

       Roger pulled the curtain that separated the backroom from the entrance and walked in. He wiped his hands on his apron, blood staining his skin. 

        “Lookie here, boy!” Barnes said. “A faerie! Why, no one has been able to catch one of these bastards for years. What can you do with this, eh, Rog?”

      Roger examined the contents, not caring that green faerie blood smudged his hands. 

        “Where’s the head?” he asked Grimsbane.

        “No head,” Grimsbane answered. “Body.”

        Roger and Barnes learned early on that asking Grimsbane for more details led nowhere. Roger nodded and picked up one of the arms. The hand flopped lifelessly out of the bag. Barnes noticed the small size of the arm and the unusual green-tinge. The arm could have belonged to a human if Barnes hadn’t known it belonged to a faerie.

         “Well, have we got something to work with?”

Roger laid the arm to rest. “I can remove the insides and stuff it up to display it before the shop. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of clients wanting to pay for the ingredients— especially pieces of those wings.”

         Barnes grinned at Roger and clapped him on the back. The boy started working for him five years ago, and he’d been the best asset to the shop Barnes could ever hope for. 

Grimsbane put a hand on the bag before Barnes or Roger could do anything else. 

          “Pay first,” Grimsbane demanded. 

         “Of course! Now, a faerie is a rare find. How about we say 80?” Barnes bartered. “200.” The hunter gave him his awful stare with no room for argument.

      Barnes winced at the large sum. “There’s no head, Grimsbane. The head’s the most impor-”

         “200,” interrupted Roger, “Is a fair price. You’ll get your money right away.”

          He walked over to the register and handed the money to Grimsbane. His hands were heavily scarred, just like every other visible skin. His nails were sharp and caked in dried green blood. Grimsbane grunted in farewell and exited, returning to the woods where his next prey resided. 

           “Boy! Are you trying to make me go bankrupt? No body is worth that much!”

           Roger hefted the sealed bag and carried it with no struggle. Barnes enviously remembered a time when his body didn’t fail him.

         “Trust me, old man,” the boy replied. “This thing will make up for the money wasted once people find out what we have.”

Barnes settled back in his seat and narrowed his eyes at Roger.

        “It better. Or they’ll be hell to pay. Ya hear me, boy?”

       The boy simply grinned, waved him off, and vanished into the back room. The shop was quiet as the afternoon bled into the evening. Barnes sat back on his stool and looked at his entire collection hanging from the walls. 

     At night, Barnes regaled the bar with the story of how he acquired a faerie when a question from the barmaid made him pause.

     “What?” Barnes frowned. She was very pretty, and always reminded him of his wife.

      “If there’s no head,” the barmaid repeated, “how do you know it’s a faerie?”

     The rest of the bar attendants murmured in agreement. A faerie’s features were distinct: pointy ears and rows and rows of sharp, large teeth. Without that, they could easily pass off as human if they hid their wings.

     Barnes sputtered trying to respond. “Come now! This is Grimsbane, the best hunter out there!”

      Mentioning Grimsbane caused many of the hunters to scoff bitterly. No one knew where Grimsbane hunted to get these rare creatures. While everyone caught the same elves, golems, and satyrs, Grimsbane brought in werewolves, gorgons, and demons. Sometimes, Barnes worried. What if they hunted all the monsters to the point of extinction? Back when he still hunted, some monster types became extinct.

      Barnes knew he shouldn’t complain. Every hunter went to him with their bounty. But he wanted to expand his collection. The thought made him gulp his beer down. Another hunter chimed in before Barnes could diverge the conversation.

    “Never mind that. Didn’t you men hear about the disappearances in Shadow Hills just days ago?”

        “A man a couple of towns over was found ripped in half. It was said that his lower body was missing,” another one said. 

       “There’s been killings and disappearances for months now. Nothing was found,” a third reported.

         “Could it be the same monster?” someone else asked.

Barnes’s mind was racing. This sounded like a big monster, a possible new asset to his collection.

      “Well,” Barnes announced. “I don’t know anyone more capable of finding that creature than all of you men right here. I’ll give good money to whoever finds it, too.”

       “Grimsbane!” Barnes called as he saw him stomp across town, hands gripping large amounts of chains. Two weeks passed and no one had been able to catch the monster responsible for the disappearances. Barnes was getting antsy and not even Grimsbane had brought back anything.