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.

Tears pricked my eyes as I applied pressure to the wound. "Can you stand?"

"I... I don't..."

She blinked again. Her eyes stayed closed for a second. Two. Three.

"Hey! Come on, wake up!"

I shook her and she woke.

"I'm getting you out of here, okay? We're going to make it out."

Her head fell forwards and backwards in a drunken nod. I threw her arm over my shoulder and forced us both to stand.

She was only slim, and far more petite than me, but it was a battle to carry her in my weakened state. Sweat gathered, my dress growing rough against every inch of my boiling skin, and I almost sobbed when the poor girl's feet caught on the ground, apologising over and over for causing her more discomfort.

We made it out the door, down four more corridors and towards the top of the stairs. When I stopped catch a breath, she fell limp.

"No. No, wake up, come on."

I looked to her face. Her eyes were looking at me; a sad and lonely blue. A line of blood fell from her lips as the last drop of life abandoned her – no, was torn from her.

Her weight became heavy and my throat grew sore. She was too young, resembling Florence in a way. Killed for having too much fun. With a pained whimper, I lowered her to the ground.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

My quivering hands shut her eyes and brushed matted dark hair from her face. "I'm sorry. I was too late, I'm sorry."

And I left her. I just left her at the top of a flight of stairs. Alone. Because I was not strong enough to take her with me. Not even strong enough to ask for her name before she died.

I reached for the railing and slipped on the first step, tumbling down till I reached the bottom. I choked and heaved, my ribcage battered, but I reached the door. That would take me through the ballroom – through the ocean of bloodthirsty vampires.

With a glance at my blood-soaked outfit and skin, I gulped.

I dragged myself up by the door handle and fell into the darkness.

Not one of the vampires saw me enter, much to my own relief. I pushed up from the sticky floor, now coated in the blood of the girl and the ground, and waded through the crowd of morbid ecstasy.

They shoved, pushed and almost knocked me off my feet. One vampire pulled me towards him with a fanged, lustful grin, while another helped me away without a second thought. I stumbled through the crowd, lost and confused, until I bumped into a familiar figure.

"Erika?"

I frowned. "Nathaniel?"

I tripped towards him and he grabbed my arms. "You're hurt. What happened?"

"The Collector he..." Tortured and killed a young girl. "He knows we're going to steal from him. We have to find the others."

"What? You need help first. You can barely stand."

"No, we—"

"No! Come on, I'm getting you out of here."

He took my hand and led me to the exit. I didn't object. Right now, he was the only person I recognised. Even if I wasn't entirely trusting of him, I had more faith in him than the vampires following the lines of blood down my body with hungry eyes, and the security hired to defend The Collector.

"This way."

We arrived at the bar before my eyes adjusted to the new light, and Nathaniel grabbed a pint of ice water I gulped down so quickly my lips turned numb. The cold shocked me towards normality, and the nausea mostly subsided as I sat in the barstool, counting how many seconds I was sitting for, eager to leave.

"What happened?"

"Vampire drink." I wiped my mouth. "Don't try it."

"Then why did you?"

"I didn't intend to."

Baby blue eyes looked me over. "You're covered in blood."

My hand was a rusty red. I forced back a gag. "The Collector killed a young girl."

His brows raised. "For?"

I clenched my jaw. "For breaking a stupid lamp."

Nathaniel gasped. "Shit."

"Shit indeed."

I ran a hand through my hair, gripping the roots as my head began to throb. My head dipped forwards, drowsiness setting in. "Where's Florence?" I asked instead.

"At the game with everyone else. I won't lie to you, it's not looking good. I left to find you when Florence asked. She's got a bad feeling and won't leave her brother."

I hit his arm, urging him to move. "We need to go. Now!"

"Wait, why? What do you mean?"

Without another word, I dragged him through the bar and through the main dance floor.

We sprinted through neon lights then out the back door. The poker conservatory was full of curious onlookers that blocked our way, and a cry of 'ooh's filled the air on our way in.

The Collector grinned from his usual seat, one arm hanging casually over the back of his chair. "Good game, Mullein. Such as shame you didn't get the... dagger."

People gasped as Nathaniel and I entered the room, coated in blood with glaring eyes. Leopold gulped, Alfie and Florence paled, while Alex darted over.

"Erika, what—"

"Erika, darling! Had a bit of fun with our vampire friends, have you?"

The Collector was beaming, a rose-coloured drink in hand as he raised to his feet. From the look on Alfie's face, I realised he had lost the game.

"I thought you actually had a chance of winning, Mullein. But your cousin had other plans." He reached for his pocket and out came the scarlet glint of Horizon's Edge, to the room's shock.

"You see, everyone, she—" He pointed at me with the tip of the dagger as he strutted around the table. "She used me. She tried to trick me into sleeping with her so I'd give up the dagger for free!" Some snorted, others laughed out loud. He was toying with his audience to justify his actions; they either believed him or were too afraid to challenge him. My eyes caught sight of my crossbow on the table – too far to reach.

The Collector's ocean eyes were on me, freezing over with every step he took. "She played with my heart. Now I'll play with hers."

Alex stepped in front of me, arms raised in defence. The Collector rolled his eyes.

"Security?"

Bouncers shoved their way towards Alex. He managed one punch before a bouncer double his size brought him to his knees.

The room fell silent. No-one dared move as The Collector brushed Horizon's Edge over the left side of my chest. To him, we were the only two people in the room.

"Go on, then," I whispered. "Do it." I was sure he could feel my heart beating through the reverberations of the knife. "Let the audience watch. Prove to them how evil you are."

I winced as the blade pierced my skin ever so lightly. He craned his neck, teeth bared as if he would bite my ear. "Darling." A chuckle. Over his shoulder, something stirred in the dark behind the window. We were not the only people there – there were others. A flash of red that raised a hand. "They already know."

The windows shattered and the conservatory shook. All guests fell to their knees as glass dropped upon them. I buried my head into the ground, shielding my face with both my hair and my hands.

QOTD: What are everyone's opinion's on The Collector?

As always, thank you for reading,
— Caitlin xx