BADB DREAMS

An excerpt from MIDNIGHTS REQUIEM, Volume One of THE DANCE OF THE DAMNED

+++++++++++++++++

They drove through the night. Macha filled Michael in as much as she could. She turned on the radio, set it on this old A.M. talk radio station. Some random neocons complaining about the supposedly mostly peaceful protest rioters looting and burning in their temper tantrum. Macha let out a frustrated sigh.” What’s your first question?” She inquired.

” So, someone or something is trying to kill you?” Michael asked.

” Of everything you do not know and need to know you ask the obvious? ” Macha exclaimed, frustration tinged her voice.

Michael sat back. ” Look I do not even know enough to know what the hell to ask. I need to process all of this. ” He sat back looking out at the passing farms and trees.

Trying to organize everything. His memory did include everything that had happened. However it was a bit scrambled.

There were times he was merely watching and those memories were a confusing binary. He knew what who or whatever had enthralled him or whatever was thinking when it had controlled him. More like when it had mind raped him.

There were memories of Morgan, Nemain. Those kept bubbling to the forefront. Her touch, her taste. The way she moved, the intimate sounds she made. The taste of her lips. The sound of her voice. When ever those memories arose, Michael would look back at her.

She was still out cold. Occasionally she would make a sound. Michael was acutely aware of each miniscule movement she made, the sound of her breathing, the beating of her heart.

Macha watched him from the corner of her eye. His concern for Nemain was clear. Interesting that he all but ignored Badb. He also seemed aloof and indifferent to her. That was something she had never experienced before.

Physically the three of them were identical. What was going on between Michael and Nemain? Macha did not want to consider the obvious. No, that always brought disaster. Wars, plagues unleashed, genocide, empires destroyed.

The Morrigans life in upheaval meant the entire world in upheaval. That was Simply unacceptable.

Macha noticed that Michael had drifted to sleep, his head resting against the seat back. She also noticed that Michael had draped an arm over the seat back and that Nemain/Morgan had reached for his hand. Michael was holding her hand.

This was going to be really really very bad. Macha sighed watching the Georgia lowlands begin to turn into rolling hills.

First things first! First she must get Nemain and Badb back to a functional state. Everything else would have to wait to be dealt with.

Juggling her cel phone and driving, Macha placed a call. She made arrangements for their hounds. She was certain that they were going to need them. Maybe the link they shared would help bring her sisters back.

Macha kept sliding sidelong glances at Nemain and Michaels hands. She had never, not once in the millennia, seen Nemain reach for anyone.

Badb, occasionally twitched, now and again her breathing would get rapid and little cries would escape her.

Mostly she remained still, curled in a near fetal position snuggling the two wolfhounds close, oblivious to the world around her.

Macha could sense that Badb was not there. That she was traveling. Her essence transposed into the other world. The spirit realm home of memories and ghosts. The timeless other world.

The frightening thing was, Macha could not sense Nemain at all. That had never happened. Not once since their birth. Macha had no idea, no sense of Nemain whatsoever. Her physical form was obvious.

Her mind, of her essence, there was only a wall of flames. Tortured wails, screams, echoing continually. Macha could sense these within herself through their entangled connection.

Quantum clones intersect along many levels. Molecular, electrodynamic, multiple layers of Quantum entanglement.

Calling Badb back, would be relatively simple once they could stop, rest, breathe. What was happening with Nemain , was a total unknown.

*************************

Badb was drifting on a breeze watching and listening, reliving a treasured moment. The memories of when She and her sisters had stalked the Romans during the Caesars first attempt on Prettania.

The horse was screaming. Unless you were there to see and hear the dying screams you would never believe how those pitiful screams cut through you, how they tore their way into your mind. The way they etched their dying terror forever into your heart.

Badb revelled in the terror of cattle, the sweet pheromones add complex flavors, the screaming of the horses however, was getting to her. Badb liked horses, humans are food and occasionally amusing. Horses are, Beautiful. The dying terror of the horses was heart breaking. Still, it had to be done.

Her spear shaft had broken upon her attempt to withdraw it. She now held only half of the ash stave. The bright flame tongued spear head was buried in the horses chest.

The Roman auxiliary thrust his lance at her. She danced away laughing striking at his ankle with the broken shaft. She backed off a step. Just out of the reach of his lance. Drawing her sword. She waited for what she knew would come.

The horse collapsed, the auxiliary in trying to get clear, hurled himself onto the ground at Badbs feet. In a bright flash, Badb ran three feet of steel through the mans solar plexus working the blade at an angle, sliding in between the plates of his lorica.

He was silenced, dying, unable to make a sound though the bloody foam he choked upon, still conscious he collapsed to drown in his own blood. Idly Badb wondered rather would he drown or succumb to blood loss first.

Badb drew the long blade back out, then wiped the efluvium off of her hands and sword. She shrugged his feeble attempts to grasp her blade off, then grasping the hilt of her sword with both hands she struck.

It was a clean cut. His head rolled away. Blood briefly fountained, baptizing her in battles glory. Decapitation is guaranteed be quicker than bleeding out or drowning.

Badb grasped the severed head, lifting it by the short hair. The eyes darted about in terror, the mouth moved in silence.

Badb relished the fear, tasting it on the air. Laughing she tilted back her head to kiss him fully on the lips then held the head up overhead.

Their scouting party had discovered the Roman Auxiliary Calvary scouts. It was a simple thing to set up and ambush them. Three hidden Celts to two mounted troops. There really was not a battle it was a slaughter.

The lead horseman had died quickly. His belly run through by two spear thrusts which lifted him out of the saddle over the rear of the horse to be pinned to the ground. They twisted the spears before withdrawing them.

He screamed as his intestines were drawn out. Macha and Nemain turned to see Badb run her spear into the second horse. The dying screams of the mare, and the brief interplay. The Romans final sight was of three bloodied women laughing as his life faded away.

Hunting Romans was one way to alleviate boredom. Macha set out to gather the frightened horses, leaving Nemain to play with their prey. Badb danced a jig, twirling the severed head about as she whirled and stamped her bare feet.

Nemain grasped the mortally wounded Roman, smiling widely so he could see her teeth as they extended. She bit into his throat, tearing out his larynx , severing both carotid and jugular.

She leaned her head back to catch the brief fountains of arterial blood. It was like drinking from a water fountain, a fountain that struggled trying to scream as she drank her fill.

His blood was rich with fear, with the remnants of the battle rage. Nemain wallowed in his terror and fury. She locked eyes with him watching as he faded out. When the last light had gone from his eyes she tossed the body aside.

Badb had stopped dancing to finish off the dying screaming horse. She cut its throat then stabbed the broken ash stave through the horses body, Badb then stuck the severed head onto the shaft.

Macha returned with the other horse.

Soothing the frightened animal while she drew her knife across its throat. The blade was so sharp she did not have to put any pressure. The horse never felt the cut.

Nuzzling the horse, murmuring gently to it, Macha soothed the dying animal as it slowly weakened, stumbled, then fell rolling onto it’s side. She stroked its flanks as it gave up the fight.

Badb threw back her head and screamed a ululating war cry. Nemain joined her. The Roman detachment, where they had paused to await the scouts return heard the piercing cries. Piss ran down the legs of some. All of them shuddered in fear.

Fearing an ambush , they tried to keep some sort of organization. The discipline broke. An even hundred men stood terrified as more unearthly screams erupted.

When the severed head of a scout flew out the trees, thudding against one mans shield. The century panicked, some throwing down their weapons, they ran back towards the river they had been following. Stripping armor as they ran scrambling with no order, back the way they had come.

Macha and Nemain followed them. Killing one at a time, pausing only long enough to tear the corpse apart.

Badb continued to harrass those that had stayed in place. Assaulting the remnants with sling and javelin, Killing with each cast. Circling about with ululating war screams inducing terror.

The centurion left in command must be credited. He remained calm, issued the correct orders. He kept his men ordered by sheer force of will.

He ordered a withdrawal. At first it was orderly. However there was no way to maintain a coherent formation in the forrest. Fallen trees, under brush forced a gradual scattering.

Badb gleefully killed at will. When she began throwing severed heads amongst them as well as severed limbs. The proud romans broke and fled like their comrades had. Fleeing they stumbled across the pieces of the victims Macha and Nemain had left behind.

Their panic grew. Badb, satisfied that her work was done ran ahead on swift silent feet to join her sisters. She found them perched on the limb of an ancient moss encrusted Oak. Joining them, the three sat and watched their handicraft play out.

Panicked Romans hurling themselves into the Thamus. Many unable to swim in their armor sinking to drown. The others scrambled, fighting to cross, to climb the southern bank.

The trio had routed a full century. By the time the terrified Romans had made it back to their waiting legion. The three flame haired demon warriors had slaughtered another twenty men. Picking them off one by one.

Wherever the legions marched, the Morrigna stalked them bringing terror and nightmares by night. Slaughtering sentries and stragglers. It had been a joyous time for the Morrigna.

Badb floated over the events. Watching detached from above and living the events again through her past self until rejuvenated in spirit Badb returned back through the veil to settle back into her waiting body.

When Macha glanced back for the thousandth time, Badb was smiling and breathing deeply in her sleep. She had relaxed and Macha could sense that Badb had returned. She was now merely in a deep sleep.

Nemain was still in her unconscious, coma like state. She was clutching Michaels hand tightly. Michael had shifted about in his sleep. Now leaning towards Nemain. She had shifted a little as well, seemingly trying to get closer to Michael.

Just outside of Macon, Macha stopped for gas. The only place open at 4:30 in the morning was a service station right by the interstate. Stretching , and waiting for the tank to fill Macha was looking up at this missile on display by the station lot. She made a snap decision. Speed was more important than stealth.

When the nozzle kicked off she squeezed more in until gas was spilling out of the car. She paid the attendant and feeling a little more energized got back behind the wheel.

She left a short burn out when she pulled away from the pumps. The sound woke up Michael. He looked about realizing they were pulling onto the interstate. Macha glanced over, ” Better to make speed now. ” Michael nodded in understanding.

He relaxed back, slouching down in the seat holding Nemains hand, not that she was letting go of him. Macha built up speed. In no time they were cruising along right at a hundred miles per hour.

If they could keep up that speed they would cover the three hundred or so miles in about another three or four hours or so.

They should be at Machas farm by nine am. As they ate up the miles, Macha began feeling better, less tense, much less worried. A sense of relief was growing even though there was still that painful void of Nemain missing. Badb slept deeply. Michael sat thinking. Each of them in their own separate realm.

Michael sat, digesting the nights events. Sorting through the awakened memories. Nemain, he kept thinking of her as Morgan, her hand twitched and tightened slightly now and again.

He could not keep from bringing his thoughts back to her. Michael twisted about so that he was able to look at her.

Macha watched side eyed, silent, wondering what he was doing. Michael reached back and gently touched her face. Tracing her cheek, her jaw with his finger tips. She stirred, pressing against his hand.

An electric tingle moved up Michaels arm. A warmth began to spread from her hand, up his arm and into his body. He felt an urgent, immediate need to hold Morgan in his arms.

He could not resist the urge. Twisting himself about, he unbuckled the seat belt and wormed his way over the seatback into the rear seat. Before Macha could ask him what he was doing, he had brushed against her. An electric spark jumped between them.

Michael squirmed about, he managed to get into the back seat with Morgan nestled in his lap. She stirred, pressing herself against him. Still clutching his left hand in her right.

Michael hugged her firmly against his chest. Still unconscious, Morgan nuzzled against him. Leaning his head down against hers he closed his eyes breathing in the scent of her hair. That electric tingle was now a full body tingle.

It felt as if a current flowed between them. When Michael concentrated on the feeling, it intensified slightly. Eyes closed, Michael thought her name, speaking to her within his mind. ” Where are you? Come back to me..” She twitched and began to breathe a little faster. Michael drifted back off to sleep again. Their heads touching, she had reached with her other hand to grasp his right hand.

There was a mist, sort of. Can fire form a mist? Michael knew he was dreaming. He tried to peer through the mist of fire. The only thing he could see were flames in all sorts of various forms all around him. The flames flickered and flowed in all directions.

” Morgan!” He heard himself call. There was the faintest cry in reply. Weak, far away, the barest hint of a voice. Michael continued calling out.

Walking in circles trying to hear or sense which way to go. He paced amidst the flames , Calling out ” Morgan” periodically. Now and again the faintest cry.

He could not tell where it came from nor could he discern any words. He paced round and round. Peering into the flames, calling her name and listening.

" Michael” a hand shook him , ” Michael wake up” Michael could hear his name. He moved towards the sound. “Dammit Michael, wake up!! Don’t you be gone wherever she is too!” A hand shook him a bit harder. His eyes opened and he began to look around. He held Morgan close and tight. He was not going to let go of her.

“I knew it! I’ve been there, the place of fire!” Macha and Badb turned to Michael. Raised eyebrows and silence were directed at him.

“The thing of fire, when I was changed! When it spoke to me, and I fed from it, I was there, that same place. Morgan is there! The same place!”

Badb nodded ” That was what I saw through her eyes. I read all of the memories she had taken from your blood.”

“What exactly are you talking about?” Macha interrupted. Badb and Michael both began to speak. “One at a time.” Macha interjected. With a brief glance between them and a quirked eyebrow, Badb continued. Michael nodding in agreement.

A flurry of gestures and odd croaks passed between the pair. A few minutes later Macha addressed Michael.

" May I taste of your blood?” she asked. Without hesitation he answered. “Of Course.”

Michael extended his arm, Macha leaned towards him with out hesitation, she bit his wrist. She did not need much at all, yet, it was difficult to stop. That itself was unusual.

Macha prided herself on her control. Damn he was tasty! Sitting back she studied Michael while she sorted through what she had seen. Reading memories was sort of haphazard.

There no sense of the self in reading life experiences through the blood. There is an interesting, if nauseating shift of perception, one sees from the subjects eyes, hears with the subjects ears. A sense of memory rather than mere perception.

Macha became Michael in memories, his triumphs, failures, furies and love, all from His perspective.

Shaking her head Macha murmured softly, " I would nae want to see Africa ever again myself. "

Michael was filled with surprises, it seems he is an conundrum of confused somewhat psychopathic enigmas wrapped up in an slowly growing sense of memories and poetic talent.

The change was not through with him yet. Which also was unusual. Michael appeared to be under going the onset of Aos Sidhe middle age. That shouldn't happen for at least an eon or so.