THE LAW OF BEASTS BOOK 1

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Chapter 38: SUFFER THE WRATH

Over 60 pair of eyes turned to look at me, and I felt welcomed. Really. To stop thy worship to a god that was completely opposite of the one ye claimed to serve before the snooty Catholics in America, to say a few choice words to me does my heart wonders, truly!

My eyes swallow it all up, in one gulp. Yummy. Ђe Deacon Light, clad in a red robe with KKK masking over his face, with two black Devil horns arching towards the Heavens, chiseled from elephant tusks.

I was at a loss for words. I thought he looked good, even though I was against his organization, and what it stood for, even though I am a child of the darkness, one that was rebelling.

“To whom do I give the honor of such public, well private, in thy sector, recognition?”

“I’m going to ask ye again,” he said, pulling a pump shot gun from behind the podium, and aiming at me.

I smiled at him holding that pretty piece of metal, and smelled the number of rounds in the chamber.

I wasn’t intimidated.

I’ve walked through wars, Vietnam, the Civil War, et cetera, eating hearts and drinking the blood of the dead, of the forgotten and of the fallen, so a pump shot gun meant what to a vampire like me, exactly?

§terling silver bullets doesn’t do a thing to eradicate me, it only pisses me off.

His wife, the woman that killed her parents and got away from it, and away with it, but not away from me, the one that stalked her, even before she married, slowly rose to her feet.

“Ђy voice, where had I heard it before?” she asked and the Decon Light glared at her, his eyes hot coals from beneath the KKK veil, behind the holes cut out for his eyes.

“I warned ye, in court, remember, that this day was coming, thy sins will be repented, but not in the way ye think.”

“Ђe voice! From the court room!”

§he reached up, and brushed her fingers over the black rose in her hair.

When she got home from court that night she noticed it was in her hair, and she wore it in her hair, not knowing where it came from, but appeared after she heard the voice delivering the warning, the pink slip for her life, verbal, real, and living, breathing, in the flesh, in her face, in a Chapel she and her husband built from the ground up, one that was undocumented, many people paid to keep the silence in government, some present tonight.

“I see ye kept my gift,” I said.

“§o ye gave me this rose?”

“Yes. Ђere art two more that goes with it, together, as a set; it is the most beautiful thing in the world!”

“Get her out of here, and kill her once she’s outside the doors, her existence desecrates this holy place.”

“Holy? A place of evil, Holy?” I asked him, with one step I covered ten feet and was at his side.

I kissed his face, and he jumped back, snatching the veil and the black devil horns from his head. He dropped the items on the floor. He was a handsome man, sexy in his own way. Sweet atheist.

“Ђis is a holy place, holy inside my own understanding; it is what I made it, what my wife made it.”

“Art ye babbling about thy wife that has a black heart, the one that killed her parents and framed two men in the process?”

Her mouth fell open in shock. “§he’s lying!” But her eyes told them all they needed to know.

“Tonight, all of ye will die. Before the authorities get here, ye will be taken care of, all of ye!”

“And what art ye going to do?” the Deacon Light asked, baby powder on the top of his robe, what was the significance?

“Two bodies were dug up from the gates of thy internal hell, this Rhee Chapel. Ђose were two more warnings for thy wife. §he must atone for what she hath done.”

“I am not going to jail, and if you’re some undercover FBI bitch or whatever ye art ye will not take me without a fight!”

Ђe Deacon Light aimed at me again and fired, out of the blue, and I caught the bullet just as fast as the bullet reached me, and I held up my other hand, the gun smoke and residue from the shot fired flaked to the reddish carpet, inches shy of my high heeled feet.

§tunned, his eyes bulged out of his head and everyone begin to scatter, running like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to escape, and I sucked in air and every door closed in their faces all about, and locked themselves.

“§uffer the Wrath! Evil dies with evil.”

Two boys, the sons of the innocent men wrongly incarcerated, The Aggressive and §ubmissive One, dropped from the ceiling beside me.

Coyly, the young newborns licked their lips, blood thirsty, and I said, “Feast, my children. Feast.”

And I sat on the Ђrone, reserved for the Deacon Light, and put his Devil’s Horns on my head, and his KKK facial covering.

And I grabbed the lacquered arms of the chair, made of the finest of redwoods, and said, “I am the Queen Mother,” and remembered licking the blood of the boys, tasting it, biting their necks before their bodies hit the water, the bone of the Aggressor protruded from his leg, stuck in transition because of the current of the waters, waters ordained by the Deacon Light, that surrounds the Chapel, and makes it hard for vehicles to drive up to.

As the authorities turned onto the road leading to the church, framed with low hanging branches, thick branches, the newborns, my two new recruits, killed and had their food, until they lay, full, everybody dead, every soul, released from their birthday suits, and sent in all directions, scattering.

§uffering…

I gasped when she hissed at me, running around several dead bodies, lashing her claws at me, Ķlěőpĥǻ Achieng, taking me off guard and by surprise.

§he caught me good in the jaw:

B A M!

And an uppercut to the chin…

POW!
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