Chapter 29

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This is the second aesthetic for Erie! They were both so amazing that I could not pick just one so I decided to post both of them!

Show your love for the beautiful aesthetic!

And now, enjoy :)

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Lumiere carried Erie away, slowly and carefully to keep from jostling her, with his head bowed against hers and whispering to her in tones softer than cotton. She looked so brittle in his hold, so absolutely breakable. Lumiere could crush her if he wanted to, with ease.

    He would never, but that did not mean others would show her the same kindness or spare her. This might very well be the first and only time Erie has ever been vulnerable.

    And it scared Lumiere.

    It really scared him.

    With two less bodies occupying the room, we had more space to spread out. I leaned against the counter to relieve pressure from my leg and stared at the bloody bullet abandoned on the table, "How could they do this to her? How could they do this to the Gate? I thought you said gang business wasn't allowed here."

    "It's not." Brandon informed, flatly. He had begun his concoction with the same gelatin substance Erie applied only moments ago, then added a series of ingredients I hadn't a hope of guessing, "But I also said the Council is playing by their own rules. Even a man as conventional as the Count will abandon tradition when death is added to a gamble."

    "So that's it, we're doomed." I concluded.

    Dustin drew me in for a snug embrace and rested his head atop mine, "Not yet."

    Brandon snickered, "Death must have messed you up more than I thought if you truly believe we are anything but doomed, my hopelessly optimistic cousin." He set down the vials he had been inspecting and made way for the door, "Corinth, come help me find a few things in the other room."

    She was surprisingly cooperative, either too tired to argue or too distracted to care. Whatever the reason be, she fell in step behind him while biting absentmindedly at her nails with her thoughts elsewhere.

    Once they were gone, I unleashed my worries on Dustin, "Do you really think we can beat the Count?"

    "To be honest with you, I don't know." He admitted, "But I do know the Count will do anything to get the cure and I am the only one who can bring it to him. So if you think about it, in a demented kind of way, I actually have the upper hand."

    I rose an eyebrow, "You are demented if you actually believe that."

    He chest reverberated against my own with an easy chuckle, "I should have known you wouldn't fall for that. But on a side note, I think you have spent way too much time with Brandon because you sound just like him and to tell you the truth, I don't like it."

    I laid my head against his chest, surprised to hear how steady it beat, and I counted its rhythm the way one would count sheep. My tongue didn't want to form my next question, "We are going to get through this, right?"

    His fingers followed the path of my spine, down and up, then down again, "I thought you were dead set on surviving. Are you having doubts now?"

    Of course I am having doubts.

    But not about me.

    Because whether I get cured or not, whether I survive or not, it is Dustin who is truly in danger. Even if he somehow manages to retrieve this coveted cure that has been unattainable for thousands of years, the Count will never grant Dustin his freedom. He is too obsessed with Dustin to let him walk away. For the rest of Dustin's life, the Count will always be there; lurking in the shadows or darkening an obscure doorway, haunting his dreams, scarring his memories, always one step behind but too far out of reach to expel.

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