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THE LAW OF BEASTS 3: THE BELLY

By dapharoah69 All Rights Reserved ©

Scifi / Fantasy

Chapter 2: THE TOMB OF THE QUEEN MOTHER

He was supposed to impregnate Kleopha’s biological body, not a body she used as a guise, and her Main Guise.

This was a bad case of identity theft, hackers worldwide stealing the names and identities of normal, everyday people, casting a negative glow of National Security, the middle man cashing in on the behind the scenes investment many companies art into, to indirectly boost their profits through insurance…

Better to push product through stolen credit cards and stolen bank information, doesn’t matter.

Their insurance companies pay the fees, sparing the company as a whole, business as usual… Saving them from bankruptcy.

His goal was to make Kleopha, her ghost, and her soul, separately, individually, feel safe enough to let down her guard, let down her guard and let down her guard.

Women loved images of wealth, and when he made love to her, the way he made love to her soul, when he planted seeds of destruction deep inside her womb, and even inside the womb of the soul, and the soul of the womb, the soul outside of her physical body, he penetrated the skin of her neck with his porcelain teeth and made her think he tasted her blood, and drank it to quench his thirst, and to satisfy his appetite.

Reverse psychology.

That wasn’t the case.

He would never tell her that he had a ménage a trios with her ghost, and her soul, enchanting her through his powerful dream spell. Kleopha thought she was having a dream that turned into a nightmare at the beginning of the tale, in book 1.

What he didn't anticipate was that he fell in love with her, or he thought he did. He cared deeply for her, something he hadn’t planned on, but something he couldn’t take his mind off of, no matter how hard he tried.

When he brought Kleopha’s soul [a soul that has returned to the Body of the Queen Mother] into his Realm of Color disguised as a rainbow, he didn’t know of her guise, or that she was in the Queen Mother’s (Armona) body. The Devil knew Doneshius was going to deceive him, he just didn’t know how he was going to do it, and still doesn’t know of it as of yet.

Doneshius was sure of it...

When he enchanted her with his beauty, and everything all about, far off, and in between (from the musical instruments casting a spell on her, yet failed to control her mind), he made love to her in the form of the Messiah and instead of drinking or tasting her blood, he held it in the folds of his mouth, an ounce of it, all he needed, the blood of Ķlěőpĥǻ and her unborn child, a child being conceived right as he spoke, for an even bigger purpose.

Her DNA was on file in his brain, and the way he felt about her he continued to ignore, even though it radiated from the cusp of his heart. He had to carry out his orders; even though he altered them to his liking for his own selfish reasons. So far he was on time, and on schedule.

He used his mouth as a form of incubation, keeping the blood of life warm and untarnished from the air, and the atmosphere of Σarth.

No matter how he tried to prolong the inevitable, he quietly flew to a tomb in a remote area of The Grand Forest, when he vanished from Alicia’s life, after she agreed to become an evangelist (how dumb could the bitch be?, he wondered). He took all of the phony rainbow imagery with him, the foundation of those fake images being hypnotism, unknowingly to Ķleőpĥǻ.

To start the ritual.

And it was simple, really. The ritual and the imposing ceremony was to be performed to stop the combined seeds of every man of the Village of Opus from having the luxury of even taking a breath outside of the tarnished, compromised womb of the vampire.

When was he going to tell her, and inform her, because she must know, and certainly had the right to know (if she was carrying not one of Doneshius’s descendants, but three of his descendants in one lump sum), that she carried the seed of all the men of the Village of Opus?

All of them sold their souls to Doneshius the day the Village was destroyed by a wicked force centuries ago. He then impregnated Kleopha's Ghost with their bitterness and rage after the ménage a trios between the four entities of it all, Kleopha, her ghost, her soul, and Doneshius. He experienced three types of pleasure from a woman broken into three parts of herself.

The only thing that compromised it all was Kleopha's biological body buried deep in the earth with Armona's Soul trapped within it...

The tomb itself, with its gilt framing and twenty four karat gold, was breathtaking. It was unlike anything he has ever seen. He was fascinated with material things, and there was nothing better than material things than expensive material things, the kind that sparkle and tinkle.

The fabled tomb was comprised of concrete, marble and stone. There were sapphires and rubies and diamonds glittering all over it, protected by a thicker concrete and marble infrastructure around it, with the gigantic porcelain face of a female vagabond protruding over the coffin of the tomb, within the tomb itself and was forever trapped in the chiseling of the expensive marble.

If Leonardo Di Vinci could see this work of art he’d blush with envy. The Chinese inspired placement of each mineral, and each type of well-cut glass arrested his attention. Profusely, the color of wealth danced in his eyes with sinister ghouls waving pom-poms, cheering him on with wicked smiles of greed, patting their pockets with shaky index fingers over their mouths.

He wanted all of the well-cut stones; there were even tiny emeralds circling the retinas of either eye, the eyes of the Protruding Porcelain Female Face.

There was a marble, swan-like neck dipping into the top of the coffin, with ninety stairs of all kinds, the most expensive Italian marble in the history of the earth, crisscrossing all around, over, and through the tomb leading to the coffin.

The coffin itself had to be about three hundred feet in the earth. The blanket of blackness swelled amongst the breaks in the stairs, and any sign of light was nonexistent. There was an evil aura that rose from the Pit of Stairs, and Doneshius began to shudder with fear, tiny beads of sweat forming across his broad forehead.

The Entrance to the Tomb could only be penetrated by the blood of One, (mother and her unborn children). Ķleőpĥǻ (Alicia) and her unborn babies were the key elements in all of this, and individually they stood powerless; but together, the mixture of their blood was the Key the hibernating one needed to once again live and breathe.

Ah!

With a vengeance!

Eagerly, he squats, immaculate, the sexy specimen was, in royal attire when he was a mere peasant, taking orders from the powers that be anything his heart desires, as long as he does what he’s told.

By his Leader, a leader that was never revealed to him, one that he never saw, but only spoken to through the Voices of the Wind and his conscious; a Leader that inhabited his body, and has been residing there just as long as Kleopha’s Ghost and Kleopha’s Soul inhabits the body of the Queen Mother Armona. He convinced himself that he wasn’t going to take it anymore, being ruled by the Voices of the Wind and Consciousness.

Kleopha may be occupying Armona’s Body, but Armona inhabited Doneshius’s body, yet allowed him to move, act and think for himself. He was determined to fulfill his agenda, even though his plans have been spoiled. Armona’s Ghost wore Doneshius like a Halloween costume and never being rewarded for it. The real Queen Mother, Armona, will rise from the dead and rule and reign again!

This time more viciously, and with vengeance burning heavy in her heart.

This time she will trust no one! She will slit Alicia’s, oops, Kleopha’s neck. But for now Armona’s Ghost will remain inside Doneshius’s body until the right time.

Timing was imperative.

It was everything!

Armona’s Ghost was toying with him the way he toyed with Kleopha. The way he deceived her was the way Armona’s Ghost was deceiving him. Karma was that of myth, what ye put into the Universe always came back to the source.

Despite it all, he figured that enough was enough. If only he could move his lips and fit the pattern of his voice with the words he chose. If he chose to speak up for himself he could tell his leader, the one that gave him strict orders, how he truly felt and come out alive in the process.

He was stubborn-hearted.

When he made up his mind, no one could change it. Not even if ye held a family he didn’t have at gun point to curtail his decision. If ye left it up to him his family would be dead, and once he had nothing to live for, dying, right at that moment, seemed the right thing to do.

If only he could push himself to fall on his knees and try using the mustard seed of faith. He knew he acquired it since birth, and even after death lost souls remained in crucial conflict of the way they lived their lives, and that mustard seed of faith never died.

Ye don’t think there art millions of damned, tormented and taunted souls vehemently screaming for Jesus to save them right this instant, but it was too late for them to be redeemed. They lived in their sin all of their lives without ever being baptized, or being saved. They haven’t truly lived if they didn’t at least research Christ, to place facts with facts, and lies with lies.

Some people believed that Christ was the only way to Heaven; others didn’t believe it and didn’t believe such a place existed, nor was there a Hell.

But what was the truth?

Which was true, and which was false?

Unfortunately, the prayers of the damned and their begging and whining and pleading, were filled with blanks, a gun without a chamber, so why think of bullets?

They were infinitely shrouded in a thick blanket of paranoia and schizophrenia. Their pleas and tormented cries never reached the upper realm of Hell, let alone reached past Hell’s fury! And its thick blankets of death, comforters of pitch blacker than black’s blackest black’s rendition of the darkness that once blanketed the earth, back when it was just a blackened ball with no form or shape, no inhabitants of any kind, or any species.

Prayers of the damned art null and void the instant they speaketh, because even then some of the damned art telling lies just to get out of a bad situation.

Suffice it to say, every time Doneshius flinched, his muscles contracted and it set Ķleőpĥǻ on fire during their impromptu meeting. His black trousers, an unnatural choice, fit him comfortably, yet a tad too tightly, maybe because he had to battle and the tight fit made for easy maneuvering around the opponent.

His well-crafted black Chinese-inspired jacket, with eye popping metallic and huge gold rope and chain jewelry that was sown into the shoulder of both sides with metal conditioners, showcased the most expensive diamonds on earth, with hints of platinum tinkling in his hair.

He was truly a sight for sore eyes, this beautiful creature of the deep. His feet were bare. Dark clouds rotated around them, to hide them from sight, and to keep him levelheaded.

A man that couldn’t see his feet refused to take a step until he investigates. His face was a beautiful caricature of the way it was when he deceived Ķlěőpĥǻ.

He closed his powerful eyes and summoned the blood of mother and her unborn children from the folds of his mouth; he held the precious, priceless blood inside his mouth with everything in him, and the concealment of his air sealed lips provided security.

Armona’s Ghost was about to burst with excitement!

She was too eager to be alive again, and rightfully so. It’s been thousands of years since she inhabited her own physical body!

It’s been thousands of years since she breathed life through her own nostrils. As long as the ghost and the soul lived, the body never died, no matter who inhabited it.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and bowed his forehead, placing it on the top of the tomb. He opened his mouth, disheartened, and the blood of One flowed over his fleshy lips. The flow of blood was briefly distorted at times, pausing in thin air, as if frozen in time, and then abruptly flowed again, until every drop was devoured by the hibernating one.

Impressively, the blood of mother and unborn children began to travel along the crevices of the tomb, circling the sapphires, forming eyes all over the spectacular rubies, worth more than every mortal on planet earth, combined...

The blood formed squares around the sparkling, glittering, dazzling diamonds.

Immediately, the ground began to shake...

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