Rise of a Queen

Chapter 26

The Count watched Dustin a while longer, then Brandon who had gone mute on his back while watching his uncle's body spasm postmortem, and finally Corinth who had collapsed onto her stomach still scrubbing at her face through blood and tears. He seemed genuinely confused, "You all should be thanking me. Did I not do him a service? What kind of life did he have? He lost his children, his wife, his family, his home ... sounds like a miserably rotten existence to me."

Dustin's gaze was drawn back to the body and his eyes tinged red, "He didn't deserve to die like that."

"We all have to go out somehow." The Count lectured, "At least I made it quick."

Corinth's anguished cries suggested that she did not agree.

"My mark suits you, kid." Count Marx crouched beside Dustin and pressed his thumb against the large 'X' that had been cut along Dustin's ribs, since scabbed over but still tender, "I was the same as you once, I bawled like a baby when I killed my mother. It was the first time I had killed for fun rather than necessity. So I understand-"

"Get away from me!" Dustin roared and shoved roughly at the Count "I am nothing like you!"

"Oh, you think?"

"You are a monster!"

"And you are mine, Dustin King." Count Marx caught Dustin by the neck, folding his fingers inward, past skin and muscle, to suppress the arteries below. The Count smiled, sadistic delight slipping into his too wide eye, and he sucked on his lip to stifle giddy laughter while watching Dustin struggle to breathe, "You are, finally, all mine."

Corinth was lost, Brandon could barely move, and though Lumiere fought his way closer, he was soon subdued by double the men and his progress slowed even further. Seeing Dustin in pain had me crawling forward but only a few inches before my captor grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me down, keeping me tethered even though I pushed forward still.

We were all guarded and kept away from Dustin, to stop us from helping him. And without obstacles, the Count enjoyed his games.

Keeping his hand around Dustin's neck, the Count first inspected Dustin's sigil then pretended to examine the mortal wound sectioned over his torso though his focus was obviously on the prior, "I see our efforts were not in vain, you are healing nicely."

Dustin coughed out an insult.

Firelight exploded in the Count's eyes and those flames accentuated the crazed look of homicide in his murderous stare, "Well let me see if I can ..." His hand clenched tighter, " ...help it along."

Then his grip turned to stone on Dustin's shoulders, holding him steady, and he buried his fist into Dustin's gut.

Not once.

Not twice.

But three, excruciatingly sickening, times.

My screams blended with Dustin's, a harmonious chorus from hell. He doubled over with both arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, an accumulation of blood already spreading alarmingly fast across his stomach and dripping into the grass.

"You fucking bastard!" Lumiere shouted. He pushed off the last of the men around him and dove for where Dustin writhed in the grass.

Lumiere was pursued by his guards but Brandon threw himself, and his own captor, to the side where they collided roughly with the approaching men, causing them all to fall in a tangled pile of limbs. Because of Brandon's interference, Lumiere was able to reach Dustin and he pulled him close, onto his lap, pressing his hands over the reopened wound at Dustin's center.