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Chapter 3

King Diamond sat in a circular room staring at his wine glass. His face was illuminated by a roaring fire and many candles, giving it an eerie glow. He was very, very frustrated. Absentmindedly, he began to swirl the glass around wildly, the wine nearly sloshing over the rims. Without warning, he threw the glass against the wall.

"SHIT!" he screamed as the glass shattered.

"This was not supposed to happen. She is supposed to be dead," he kept repeating to himself.

To almost everyone who knew him, King Diamond was perfect: just, practical, rational, religious, and tolerant. Diamond had most ingeniously created for himself an image beyond reproach, and all people hailed him as wonderful. There were few that fully understood who, or rather _what_ he was.  For in truth, King Diamond was a very, very strange man. Perhaps he could even be considered unholy. He certainly never had been quite normal. Because of a lasting fascination with the supernatural, King Diamond avidly collected and stashed away a vast number of forbidden books on the Dark Arts. No one knew about these books. They were his pride and soul. King Diamond wasn't superstitious in the least bit. He wasn't obsessed with something that was frivolous and nonexistant. King Diamond knew that magic existed and he passionately practiced it.

In fact, he owned it.

Twenty-five years ago, before he came to power in France, Damian Ulanoviere had been a struggling man on the brink of starvation. But by stroke of what he deemed fortune, Damian had met a Wiseman who gave him an offer Damian could not refuse.

He remembered it quite well, actually. Damian had been running down a street attempting to seek shelter from pouring rain when a sleek black limousine suddenly pulled up in front of him.

A blackened window slid down and a hooded figure commanded, "Get in."

Not hesitating in the least bit, Damian opened the car door and quickly slid in. It was very logical; the car provided shelter from the rain, and Damian didn't care about anything else except present comfort. He really didn't value his life anymore. Not in the least bit. All he had left with him was a small forest green book he purchased last year with his last savings. Damian had no home, no house, and no family counting on him, so he never hesitated to do anything; he had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

Damian glanced appreciatively around the limousine. Posh and refined, the limo looked as if it were unreal. It starkly contrasted with the rundown street they were traveling in.

"Why am I here?" Damian asked.

The hooded man picked up a wine bottle and poured two goblets of wine, offering one to Diamond.

"You are here for many reasons. One, you have something that I want, and two, I have an offer to make."

"Shoot."

"Alright," the hooded man said, carelessly brushing specks of water off the seat. "I am Wiseman. I neither have nor will take any other name. In your right pocket, you have a very, very valuable book."

"No, you cannot have it."

"I don't want it."

"Good."

"Not really. I am interested in the reason of why you have it, and I want to know if any words appear in it."

"It's really none of your business"

"Humor me."

"I like collecting books such as these. This book is the only remaining Dark Arts book I have. I am drawn to it. I haven't been able to sell it. Yes, words do appear, though I cannot understand them. May I ask how you know about my book?"

"Excellent. Very good," Wisemand told himself. Then, looking up, Wismand informed, "That book will be very important to you, you know?"

"I see."

"You are young and rash."

"I'm twenty-seven, I'm allowed to be."

"You are an idiot. Now, listen to me. I have an offer to make. I offer you the gift of eternal youth and the gift of exceptional magical ability."

Damian believed him. Damian wanted to believe him; he had been waiting all his life to have magic's existence proven. It was why he was currently homeless. He had paid no heed to anything else.

Without asking why Wiseman chose him, Damian quickly responded, "I accept your offer. What's in it for you?"

"In exchange, you must surrender to me your ability to taste and your ability to die."

Damian nearly died of laughter. What would he want with taste and the ability to die anyways? He'd gladly give them up. It was cheap price to pay, in Damian's eyes anyway, for eternal youth and exceptional magical control.

"Deal."

"Fool."

"Only you are."

Oh, how he ate those last words.

And thus was how Damian was granted his precious eternal youth and magic. Even presently at the age of 52, he didn't look nor feel a day over twenty-seven, and he wasn't going to die any day in the farthest future. Fortunately, Damian could age his appearance in the future. It was a sort of mask he donned when necessary, for any normal human would view his perpetual youth as incredibly odd. With religious tensions running so high, Diamond couldn't risk having anyone claim that he had sold his soul to the devil. No one in the right mind ever wants a modern witch-hunt gracing his country.

After the limo incident, Damian had used his newly gained powers and his masculine charm to persuade a highly prosperous company to hire him. Rolling in newly made money, Damian later bought himself a house in a refined upscale neighborhood.

Most typically, there was a "girl next door" with whom he fell deeply in love with. They had carried on a short but passionate relationship. Though he never told her, she made up for his inability to taste anything. He loved her with all his heart. She was the angel who completed him; the cliched light at the end of his tunnel. Damian did dig himself an endless tunnel. He began to slowly regret his deal with Wiseman. Everything had no taste. Without taste, life itself wasn't really worth living. He worked hard and earn a lot of money. He was never starving, but he was deprived. Deprived of the pleasure of eating the food he earned. It drove him mad. He could smell the deliciousness of bread; he feasted his eyes on tender, mouth-watering morsels of meat, but when he popped food into his mouth, he tasted NOTHING! He wanted to die out of frustration. And he couldn't die! Even worse, what about this girl he loved? She'd shun him away if she knew his secret. Even if she didn't somehow run away from him, he'd be foreced to watch his love grow old and die, while he remained young and immortal. He wouldn't be able to do anything about anything!

But fate, being her ironically cruel self, solved that problem for Damian. His light eventually left him and married another man. Damian, however, refused to accept this. He loved her crazily, irrationally, and boundlessly, and he was furious. She somehow understood his madness and luancy. She  skillfully disappeared the hour after they broke up, all traces of her dissappearing. Damian went utterly insane without her. He never let go. Eyes blazing, he decided to track her down.  It took him nearly seven years to locate her. Strangely enough, even his magical abilities could not find her. He had planned to see how she was doing so he could maybe try to gain her back. But, upon seeing her, green eyes peered from his soul. He became furiously jealous again. He was so angry at her…so angry at everything. All ration flew out his ears. He had taken one look at her happy life, complete with an adoring husband and an adorable six-year-old daughter, and recklessly ordered three hired assassins to kill her and her family.

He had gone quite mad indeed, but after the deed was reportedly done, he immediately began to regret it. He still missed her dreadfully. He became increasingly introverted and insane. Nothing was solved. He became totally and completely bent on filling the hole she left; this resulted in his rise to power.

It was a rather long story, but at the age of 38, Damian usurped the throne of France, changed his name, and declared himself King Diamond. Stupid fools that made up the kingdom didn't even know what hit them.

...BUT WAIT!...

Diamond was suddenly jolted out of his relfective reverie as frantic thoughts pelted his mind.

That girl that intruded on his meeting today was his love's daughter! He was positive! She had the same aura and lifeprint that the six-year-old girl had. Besides, she had his love's looks and smile!

But what did it mean?

Were forces at work against him?

Had his assassins deceived him? And why would they do that?

A diamond engagement ring that hung around his neck on a sliver chain glittered and winked in the flickering candlelight. Diamond's hands wound up touching the ring as a theoretical lightbulb shone over his head.

He had the sudden impulse to go question the girl who was no longer a child, but a new idea replaced that urge.

King Diamond smiled a smile that never reached his eyes.

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Copyright, weepingmask (weepingmask@yahoo.com) 2002