Amongst the Order (Watchers of the Veil #1)

Chapter 13

I was alone in a guest bedroom when I regained consciousness, shaking and disorientated. I faced a fur carpet that scratched my cheek and opened my eyes to find colours of my makeup smudged into the white material.

I leaned back on my knees and slumped into the wooden bedpost behind me. My head rattled on the impact and knocked my vision off-course so badly that I fell forward and threw up. The rug would stain. Good. The Collector deserved it.

I had to think. He knew we wanted to steal from him. But how? As much as I wanted to, I didn't need to know that right now. The fact that he was aware at all made my family targets; they were the priority.

My stomach turned when I thought of the poker game. "Alfie..."

Florence was in the midst of the party with Nathaniel. To my own surprise, that thought did not scare me as much as the one of her being alone. Alfie was at the poker table, Alex hopefully with him. The Collector's pride was his weakness; he would not hurt Alfie or Alex before he won the game.

I reached for the bedpost and dragged myself to my feet. My sweating limbs were heavy and wobbled when I stood. The earth was moving beneath my feet, fighting to put me in the ground.

I hissed. A migraine hounded my mind and most parts of me stung as if bruised. I rubbed the tears from my eyes, fingertips staining charcoal black, and carried on. The Collector could end me within a second in this state if he wanted to, but I would not leave my family in his territory.

In a dazed trance, I took another step. I had been drunk a few times before, once to the level of passing out, which I was not proud of, but the champagne The Collector had given me was another level of strong. If vampires could get drunk from it, it was a miracle I was already conscious.

I stumbled down the tenebrous corridor, noting it to be far more dingy than the museum's. His mask slipped behind the locked doors of his golden prison. I had seen it on my way up the dark staircase with him, but the shadows were truly evident here in his private quarters.

A screaming sob froze me to the spot. I darted around drunkenly, looking for any sign of danger but the cries were coming from down the hall. I backtracked further within the corridor, looking for the source, then fumbled with the doorknob to make my way into another room that made me sick to my stomach.

I recognised her from the party. The young woman had knocked over a lamp while having fun and laughed it off in a careless manner. I barely gave her a second thought and here she was, tied to the foot of a four-poster bed, covered in her own blood with no-one there to help her.

"Help me!" she cried. "Please! Before he comes back."

I almost fell to my knees. Leopold told me The Collector was wicked but seeing it with my own eyes...

I ran to her with clumsy steps and fumbled with the ropes. Burns covered her wrists and she sobbed as I touched her skin. What could I say?

"I'm sorry," I slurred.

"He..." Her head dipped forward before shooting back up. "He hurt me."

"I know, he's—" My hands froze over her wound. She had been stabbed in the stomach. It was calculated – not deep enough to kill her instantly but vicious enough to be fatal with time. Enough time to feel pain.