MIDNIGHT REQUIEM
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Dance Of The Damned,
book 1,
Midnight Requiem.
WARNING!!! GRAPHIC VIOLENCE,
This work is Not Vegan Friendly.
I refuse to apologize!
If rampaging radishes, carnivorous lettuce and salad catastrophe is more to your liking,
Then Do Not Read My Novel.
Vampiric Fae are decidedly carnivores.
We humans are merely their cattle.
Welcome to the madness!
Sexual references, graphic violence and scenes;
Enter at your own risk.
Cash only, no checks or credit accepted, gold and silver only.
No refunds,
Caveat emptor!
Now, on with the story.
A minor Prologue.
Humans.
Bahhhhh!!!
Ok maybe not all the humans, just ninety nine point nine percent of them are merely cattle which to be fair they had been conceived and created to be. Even so You have to be careful with cattle because when they are spooked or frightened they become an out of control stampeding herd. There are a lot more of them than there are Aos Sidhe.
yes we Aos Sidhe may well be very hard to kill, we can be killed though. Usually with comet strikes, volcanoes and nuclear weapons.
Out numbered, stomped down by the rampaging herd it would still hurt quite a bit. I don’t care who or what you are, pain hurts. Hah! That kind of goes along with the concept doesn’t it? Synchronicity is a hard fact of reality. Llew’s thoughts spun along weaving their own webs as he watched the cattle shuffle along oblivious. Prey on parade, a living breathing mobile buffet.
There, one burning bright with life's flames. Llew could taste her anger on the breeze. This would bring a tasty snack. High emotional states always add flavor. Hormones and pheromones , endorphins and adrenaline all spice the blood.
Tasty!
Llew watched as she walked across the packed parking lot. Red Lobster seemed busy this evening. He watched her disappear into the seafood restaurant.
It amused Llew to seek his meal at restaurants. That irony tickled Llews funny bone.
He followed her in , standing behind her while they waited for the hostess to seat her. The humans actively ignored his presence, a genetically engineered pheromone response that had bred true in the cattle.
The large lobster display tank bubbled, the whirring of electric motors and pumps creating a slightly annoying background hum. The scent of cooked and cooking sea food mixed with a light salt tang on the air along with the many volatile emotions in the busy Seafood place brought forth memories of his past life on the coasts of Wales, Ireland, and Armorica.
People entered, casually steered around him, avoiding him with no knowledge of who, what, where, or why he was. No one noticed him at all as Llew openly walked about the busy restaurant observing his chosen meal. She had ordered Lobster. Llew chuckled to himself as he passed near her eating alone. He pretended to stumble, brushed his hand with a light furtive touch across her bare shoulder. ” Oh! Please, excuse me! ” he murmured to her.
He watched in amused fascination as his glancing touch showed subtle effects along her neck. The sudden rise of goose bumps spread across her shoulder and graceful neck along with a light flush. Oh, oh yes! This one was nicely flavored already. Passing on by her, Llew was contemplating the many emotional flavors to choose from. She shuddered as if suddenly chilled. Without conscious thought she found herself rising to follow him back out the front doors, across the open parking lot.
It was time for a tasty snack. Llew decided a little stalking,
a bit of playing with his food would enhance her complex flavors. He led her out of the public parking lot, along the sidewalk into the old antebellum cemetery. Savannah made prime hunting grounds. All of the benefits of New Orleans with none of the drawbacks or cliches. Who builds a city on the coast, below sea level and thinks that is a great idea! Couple that with a river Prone to flooding and you have tragedy just waiting to happen. Savannah is definitely a step up from New Orleans!
Llew made sure she was aware of him as he taunted her for his amusement.
" Seriously? Is that what you think? That is very presumptuous of you! What did you think about as you chewed that tender lobster so succulent, glistening with melted butter? Did you even notice the creatures terror and agony as it shrieked it’s death cry? Did you care about anything other than taste, texture, how it soothed your appetite?
Come let me demonstrate your true purpose, let me fulfill your life’s meaning."
Llew flowed about her, a flickering flaming darkness.
"Ah, what of your feelings? Your emotions are merely my butter and garlic. I can taste your confusion, your fear, so tantalizing. What did you think we created you for? Companions? Worship? That is what Dogs and horses were for! You, are merely my meal. You are nothing more than a tender morsel to whet my appetite. ”
Smiling widely so she could see his teeth, he laughed softly at her frightened gasp. Her fear pheromones overpowered the blooming jasmine and magnolias.
She wanted to run, to struggle. She couldn't move. Frozen in place, she was merely Llew's frightened quivering prey.
Her taste, sweet with a rich bouquet, sharp, like a fine peat fired Whiskey with subtle hints of rage and terror with fear and lust.
Llew considered dessert as he casually stuffed the husk that remained of a human into a trash can, Mus’nt litter after all! Give a hoot don't pollute and all of that.
Besides which, it is simply rude to casually throw ones trash onto the ground! Unless one is trying to incite a fight, rudeness is weakness revealed.
Now, What is that flavor? She had left an after taste of citrus and berries. Llew couldn’t decide between an orange julius or a berry smoothie. Something fruity and icy and bold. Randomly a craving for Blackberry brandy possessed him. That would cleans his palate nicely. Hmmm maybe A slice of Key lime pie.
So many choices, so many simple desires awaiting fulfillment. Llew smiled as he left the cemetery, ducking his head to avoid the spanish moss.
Yes, Savannah was shaping up nicely. This will make a wonderful lair. His new base of operations. Central location, nearly equidistant between Miami and New York. Seven or eight large cities within a days drive. A sweet spot to linger and plan. Besides, there's the red clam chowder, not a heavy white cream chowder, a lighter red. Something Llew had come to enjoy almost as much as spicy sweet conch fritters.
It had been a very long time since Llew had ventured forth, since he had left his home hidden deep within an ancient dolmen on the island of Jersey. Jersey, Llews own private baliwack.
However, the wheel turns as it will and there is no stopping fate or fortune. There is the manipulation and management of fate though. The Maneuver and direction of events is far preferable to trusting blindly to fate. It is far better to be proactive than to find oneself acted upon.
One might say, it is better to be pissed off than pissed upon.
Llew could sense the urgency like an electric current on the air calling to him. The Time had come at last, now was the long awaited moment. "What rough beast slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?" Llew had known W.B. Yeats. Billy boy fancied himself a poet and a wizard. Well, the poet part was true at least.
Llew preferred Dylan Thomas, Dylan had none of the delusional pretensions old Billy boy held with the imagined wizardry. Dylan had managed to find a magic of his own that was loaded in his words. The Morrigna tended to have that effect On men. Their century long vacation in Aberaeron had certainly benefited Dylan!
Llew moved along, a subtle fury of flames, casting shadows in the night. There was work to be done before the new moon passed. Timing as always, a critical element required for action. Timing directed choices, actions and fate. It was time for tweaking fate and for him to keep a long awaited promise. Battles awaited for honor required labors, there can be no meaning found in simply existing. Llew knew a purpose, he had long had a goal to right a wrong, to soothe his shame.
The best part of it all is that his ex wife, would dance to his tune unaware. Ignorance brings sweet bliss! She had slaughtered the innocent child of his paramour in her rage at his perceived betrayal. A completely unacceptable action! The point had been to right the wrong, his failure of Millennia before.
Now to right the balance with a vicious irony.
Twisted? Certainly! Cruel? Obviously! Justified? Well, That's a bit more complicated. Llew would serve his honor, justice, and vengeance all at once. When this all played out she was going to be pissed! He had warned her of the costs of her rage. She, had no idea of the depths he could or would mine for his gem of perfect vengeance. Llew was a thoroughly patient Aos Sidhe, Centuries meant nothing to him.
Now, at last the breeding program had finally paid off. The game was afoot, though Which is to be Sherlock, which would be Dr. Watson and who would play Moriarity remained to be seen. It was time.
Time to pay the piper and call the tune.
The eternal song of madness, tragedy and pain. Love is complicated in the dance of the damned.
CHAPTER ONE
+++++++++++++++++++++
" She came to me in leather
Hell hounds at her heels
A courtesan of death
Black magick her appeal.
___________________
She appeared out of the fog like something from an old Hammer Dracula movie on the dark city. Tall, Long flame colored hair that reached her waist. Black leather miniskirt, fishnets, four inch spike heeled black leather boots, and a black leather jacket, half zipped and clearly nothing under it. He could not stop himself from staring. This primal Goddess walking towards him was intoxicating to look at.
Her heels clicked on the brick paving as she approached him. He was mesmerized. Deep Inside alarms rang, instincts screaming at him to run. The eerie chills that ran up his spine caused him to shiver and tremble. She smiled a crooked smile as moonlight broke through the fog , her own personal spotlight. He would swear that it followed her, tracking her every move.
Michael almost did not notice the two huge dogs pacing on either side of her. He was so enraptured with her that they didn't register to him until a very wet cold nose nudged his hand. He damn near dropped the guitar that he was holding when he noticed. How in hells brightest flames had he missed those two Giant Wolfhounds?
Words ignited within his mind. Poetry did that to him, a sudden burst of knowledge that etched itself into his soul. The words burned through him leaving behind the verse fully formed. Michael only sat down to work at composing when paid to do so. Admittedly that had not been often. The one thing that these moments that he was possessed by had in common was that it was always lyrical with rhythm and melody self contained within the verse itself. The other thing, was that it was always at an inopportune moment, such as now.
***** ************ *******
" There was evil in her heart
Death lived in her eyes
Her smile a twist of madness
She held me mesmerized”
**************
Poetry burned its way through his brain. If by chance, Michael had had a single functioning brain cell he would speak those words of fire to this apparition of pure desire approaching him. Stunned fool that he is, he failed to use that gift of the heavens.
She stopped a few feet in front of Michael, smiling this joyously predatory smile, it seemed to burn into his brain, like a red hot branding iron. It was as if he were a drooling idiot incapable of speech. Flustered, his mind racing, heart pounding, he forgot to breathe. She cocked her head to the side, her eyes, faceted emeralds that glittered with cold flames, gazed straight into him. Michael could feel her studying him, as if weighing and measuring his heart and soul. Mesmerized Michael was lost in pure madness within as the words burned into his essence.
************
“Her footsteps rang with power,
She smiles and blasts the Tower
She’s the ten of swords as pretty as you please.
All her words were treason
Pure madness in it’s season.
She’s an evil dream clawing for release.”
The heavens had given Michael a prophetic gift, that he ignored in his fascination.
" Hello”, Michaels eloquence astounded him. The sound of his own voice startled him. To be fair, he was lucky to get a word out instead of merely a squeak.
She spoke to him, calling him by name. “Bore Da Michael.” Her accent was vaguely British. Definitely not English, more a softened Scots without the burr. She had spoken to him in Welsh? She was most definitely not from anywhere near here. Michael had never seen her before. Hell, He had never even heard of someone like her in this long neglected Florida tourist trap and retirement home of a town.
His mind was , it was, oh dear gods of chaos, Who knew what his mind was doing. His thoughts racing, the adrenaline flowing. Poetry burning through him, inside and out. Michael couldn’t decide whether to run, kneel at her feet or to try and kiss her. Gods help him, he wanted to do all three.
The warning was explicitly clear. In the end, Michael could do nothing. There were many things he wanted to do, that he needed to do. But he was incapable of even forming words to speak. The seconds felt like hours as he stood staring. Desperate for a word, something, anything, to convince her not to leave. Anything to keep her attention focused upon him.
There was nothing he could do or say. Entranced, lost in her eyes, he was mesmerized? Is that the word? What happens when a mouse freezes staring at the snake poised to strike. Why doesn’t the mouse run for it’s life? She placed her hand on his chest, gazing directly into his eyes. Michael realized that she was just as tall as he was. He stood a solid six foot five inches tall, so, she had to be at least six foot one in her bare feet. Certainly someone you could never forget if you caught a glimpse of her. She would haunt your dreams forever.
Was he dreaming? Hah, he must have been dreaming. But no, he did not dream her kiss, or the moonlit madness of her teeth. Groaning drunkenly Michael surrendered to her thirst as she devoured his existence and tasted his heart. When she drew back from her dark embrace, she licked her lips with a twisted mona lisa smile, let go of him and walked away with a languid swagger. She left him as no more than an empty husk tossed into the nights street like so much litter tossed aside by careless tourists.
A church bell rang in the distance. Michael lay there, a crumpled heep. Bereft, longing to follow her. He could not convince his body to move. So there he remained with the after image of her flash burned into his soul. The verse, echoing within in accusation.
He had no idea how long he had lain there. As he clawed his way back into awareness it felt as if there was acid in his veins. His eyes were burning as if made of flames that seared his face and brain as new passions grew finding their form. The hunger, a need, a driving desire to feed in the night. Michael had become a predator. Transformed into an enemy of light, a prince of the night. Michael staggered to his feet with no thoughts other than a thirst, a hunger, a driving need. Laying there sprawled in desolation Michael had learned that darkness has a name, it is his own.
The sounds, so loud so harsh, He could hear heart beats all around him. So many drums pounding out their beats, beckoning, calling to him. As dawn was breaking, Michael was craving, thirsting. A fresh new junkie jonesing for a hit.
Nothing existed, nothing mattered except this need burning through him. A hunger, a thirst. No words could explain the intensity. There remained nothing of the man, Michael Llewis. Nothing human lived behind those burning eyes any longer.
This sense of presence appeared. Michael searched his surroundings. Out of the fading darkness a living flame approached. Michael launched himself into the air. Leaping, acting out of pure predatory instinct.
The living flame reacted faster than Michael was capable of tracking. The living flame stepped aside casually snatching Michael out of the air. Something icy cold probed and stabbed at his mind. Flames surrounded him. The living flame forced Michael to his knees and offered it’s wrist. Michael began tearing at the flame shrouded wrist, his teeth morphing as he did so. Drawing deep breaths and lapping at the burning bloody flames.
Then as suddenly as it was offered, the hand withdrew. Michael desperately grasped for it. He began to fight, demanding that sweet nectar of fire.
The living flame subdued and embraced him. Holding him close for a heartbeat it then raised Michael up over it’s head, to hurl him a good thirty feet through the air to smash against the concrete wall. The impact left cracks in the brick work. Michaels shattered body fell limply to the sidewalk to lay there senseless.
The living flames walked away flames fading as it walked. Michael lay trembling, convulsing. Two homeless men, scrambled out of the dumpster they had been sleeping in. They had witnessed everything. They did no more than glance at Michaels body as they fled. The living flame had been waiting. Both men tried to warn the other as hands of fire grasped them by their throats. Burning hands crushed their larynx. Their struggle was to no avail. The living flames walked back to the cardboard dumpster they had been sleeping in. Then threw them into it, slamming the metal lid and latching it closed. The flames brightened, flickering, then the flames were gone. A shadow remained where fire had walked. A shadow hidden, watching over Michael.
Michael lay there, his new affliction trying to heal his broken body. There was no knitting together the many broken and shattered vertebrae and nearly every one of his major organs. Had he been injured after the transformation was complete, Michaels body would have healed in short order. As it was, Michaels exhausted and depleted body, gave out. He died for the second time there on the sidewalk as the sun crowned the horizon. The living flame, now a cloak of writhing shadows, watched over Michaels form.
A few minutes passed. A tiny, faint flame deep and bitter cold. Gradually the flames faded away. Michael began to twitch, his chest rose and fell. Nodding in silence the living flame withdrew. The plan was now engaged, time to tempt the fates while watching from afar.
In the quiet grey of dawn, Michael sat up. Looking about himself he climbed to his feet. Scanning, seeking prey. Raging hunger and thirst were the only thoughts to his existence.
There was a mother and child , just arriving at the corner bus stop only a few yards from where he stood. Michael Scented them before he turned to see them. There was no thought involved in his actions.
She had only just begun to reflexively tighten her grip on the young girls shoulder when the blur struck her. The speed of the impact carried enough momentum to propel the childs school books completely across the two lane street. To slam with a crack against the building.
There was no one there to see what had happened. Had there been, a watcher would have only seen the woman and child disappear into a blur and school books tumbling through the air.
Michael, arms out spread hit the woman and child at a remarkable speed. He grasped them close to his chest as he swept them up and carried them back down the street and around the corner behind the building into an alleyway. They had moved maybe fifty yards total, in about one and a half heart beats.
Michael opened his arms and the woman and child fell bonelessly to the ground. Michael pounced on the woman, tearing her throat open with his teeth. His canine and incisor teeth extended, doubling in length as he savaged her throat. The woman, still conscious, stared at the grey morning sky. Tears traced their way from her wide opened eyes. Michael tore and ripped at her throat. Her hands convulsed, her feet kicked. In less than a minute Michael, grasping her cervical vertebrae between his teeth, ripped through them severing her spinal cord. Leaning back onto his knees, Michael turned to the child laying unconscious on the ground. Lifting the small body he bit into the throat. The child was dead. No heart pumped the blood. Michael snarled and began tearing at the childs chest, ripping his way inside so that he could grasp the small heart.
The mother was forced to watch helplessly. Only a few seconds had passed since her spinal cord had been severed. Tears ran from her eyes, frozen in horror. She watched, she could not close her eyes or turn away. The position her head had fallen into forced her to see. Her dying sight was of Michael chewing into the small heart of her child. She faded into eternity with that vision from hell to haunt her forever.
Snarling ferally Michael leapt to his feet. Choosing a direction randomly, he ran. Forgotten was the Guitar. Left lying on the sidewalk where it had been dropped. The candy apple red B.C. Rich Warlock was an mute witness and testimony to humanity cast aside.
Michael ran through alleys, across parking lots, over fences . He ran until he reached the beach. Without pause the blood and gore encrusted nightmare dove head long into the foaming waves.
The morning was overcast grey with rain clouds moving from the sea. Sheet lightning pulsed ahead of the clouds. Michael emerged from the sea to casually walk along the beach. Thunder rolled across the skies as a soft rain began to fall.
Humming a lilting melody. Michael composed a new lyric as he walked in the morning rain.
“She came to me in leather
Hell hounds at her heels
A courtesan of death
Black Magick her appeal
There was evil in her heart
Death lived in her eyes
Her smile a twist of madness
She held me mesmerized
Her footsteps rang with power
As she smiles and blasts the tower
The ten of swords as pretty as you please
All her words were treason
Pure madness in it's season
An evil dream clawing for release
Is this love is this lust
Is this fire or dust
Is this something I can't understand
Is this wrong is this right
Is this evils respite
Lost in this dance of the damned
Her gaze is alight
With thunder and fire
A tale filled with powers untold
Her smile is insane
Like a razor to vein
Lightning to wake up my soul
She set fire to the night
To dance in its light
Till yesterdays ashes are cold
She’s the ravens delight
The soul of the night
With a hunger for darkness and souls
Is this Love?
Is this Lust?
is this fire and dust?
Is this something I can’t understand?
Is this wrong?
Is this right?
Is this evils respite?
Am I lost in this dance of the damned ?
Is this wrong?
Is this right?
Is this evils respite?
Am I lost in this dance of the damned ?
So I showed her my heart
The dark empty parts
All the thirst and the hunger within
Then She swallowed my night
Gave wings to my flight
Stoking my fires of sin
So we conquered the night
Dawns dark delight,
Oh the promise of morning and pain
Her rhyme is the reason
Sweet madness in season
The blood knows the memories made
Is this Love?
Is this Lust?
is this fire or dust?
Is this something I can’t understand?
Is this wrong?
Is this right?
Is this evils respite?l
I am lost in this dance of the damned.
So I showed her my heart
The dark empty parts
All the thirst and the hunger within
Then She swallowed my night
Gave wings to my flight
Stoking my fires of sin
Is this wrong?
Is this right?
Is this evils respite?
Am I lost in this dance of the damned ?
Is this wrong?
Is this right?
Is this evils respite?
Am I lost in this dance of the damned ?
Her gaze is alight
With thunder and fire
A tale filled with powers untold
Her smile is insane
Like a razor to vein
She is Lightning to wake up my soul,
Is this wrong?
Is this right?
Is this evils respite?
Am I lost in this dance of the damned ?
Is this wrong?
Is this right?
Is this evils respite?
Am I lost in this dance of the damned ?
Her smile is insane
Like a razor to vein
Lightning to wake up my soul
She set fire to the night”
Nodding to himself, tapping out the meter with his finger tips Michael contemplated a chorus. The music has to be in the A harmonic minor scale he decided. The rain had passed over. Now the late morning sun burned hot and bright. Sunglasses! He Definitely needed sunglasses. Michael murmured to himself.
CHAPTER 2
Who could have known that moon light was in reality a misty rainbow? light sequenced, shattered and scattered by the mirror of the moon.
Who knew that Sunrise could be so spectacular? Watching the sunset over the gulf of Mexico had probably been the single most psychedelic experience Michael had ever imagined. The way the light played amongst the salt air and waves. Each drop of water a prism releasing riots of colored light.
There are distinct advantages to being able to see into the infra red and ultra violet spectrum. Colors that Michael could not have imagined, existed. Shades with no name and no manner to describe them.
That was the problem as well. Sunlight. No he did not burst into flames in the sun like in the old Christopher Lee movies. He did sunburn badly and extremely quickly now though. The true issue being sensitivity to light. The sun rendered him nearly blind. His skin had transformed to absorb energy directly. He could feel the ebb and flow of magnetic fields and electricity around him. An acute sense of magnetic fields is an odd sensation. Especially when one has no idea what one is feeling. Feeling the subtle pressures of waves of photons striking his flesh. Very new, very different sensations unlike anything Michael had ever felt or imagined before.
His eyes, now enhanced were highly reactive and sensitive, absorbing light like some sort of photonic sponge. Thus his stylish new dark sunglasses.
The seriously weird thing was, he could see flames everywhere. Faint flickering, flowing flames shimmering in shades across the spectrum. Every single living thing was encased in living flames. As if that were not weird enough, there was seeing the faint figure of peoples amputated limbs. He had passed a man in a wheel chair missing an arm and a leg. Seeing the ” I am a vet, please help” sign Michael had paused and while fishing through his pockets Michael noticed , first, the mans tattoo. A skull pierced by a commando dagger. Then, that where the missing limbs should be, were ghost limbs. An arm and a leg shaped of faint blue and yellow flames. That was interesting! After dropping all of the cash he had in his pockets into the mans hat, Michael continued on. Before he had taken his second step, the man spoke a single word, loud and proud. “Rangers!” Michael answered without thought. ” Lead the way!” He turned around, the man was holding up a worn challenge coin. Michael had inadvertently fished it out his pocket along with the wadded up cash. It had been his fathers. His dad had given it to him when he had earned his tab. It had been a family tradition. Every male Llewis had served in the military. One ancestor had served with Rogers Rangers during the Seven years war between France and Great Britain. The same great umpteenth grandfather had gone on to serve with the Swamp fox, Francis Marion during the Revolution. There had been Llewises serving on both sides of the war between the states. Since the 1750′s, a Llewis had fought in every single war the U.S. had been involved with. The Man held the coin out to him. Michael thanked him as he dropped it back into his pocket then turned and walked away. The man shouted a vibrant thanks! To Michaels retreating back.
South West Florida seldom got very cold even so the mugginess and rain made sleeping outside a task and a half. Michael had dropped more than enough cash to cover an extended stay room for a few months. The battered vet hurried away to rent a room. Thoughts of hot shower food and A.C. danced in his mind.
By far the most unpleasant enhancement had to be taste and smell. He could detect and isolate pheromones. He could smell adrenaline, anger, and fear. He could also taste everything that he scented. He had learned that there are scents no one ever wanted to experience let alone taste in all it's glory. Humans, frankly, reeked of scents that they never seemed to notice. Cities were awash in fear, rage, desperation, lust,and despair. Every emotion has both a particular scent and a particular taste on the wind. The close proximity of so many people in the city magnified everything. While he had been down wind of the wheel chair bound vet, Michael nearly gagged from the stale beer and unwashed body with built up sweat and urine. Yes, there were some smells you never wanted to experience. There are some tastes best left unknown.
Because of this he decided that he needed to avoid cities now. The cacophony of aromas, the neon lights, the crowds. Crowds oh Gods, the crowds! When you can hear a heartbeat at a hundred yards away. The abundance of sound in a city overloads the senses. People talking, traffic, random music from car stereos. All the heart beats around you it is all an assault on ones sanity. Not to mention temptations to ones appetites. For Michael, walking around a city was like being a starving wolf inside a fully stocked meat locker.
He had been evolving since she had fed on him. He was discovering new capabilities almost hourly. New perceptions with new instincts awakened. New cravings as well.was
Michael was craving something, however he could not figure it out, a sense of hunger and thirst beyond appetite or description. Nothing was soothing that pernicious itch. There was some relief when he drank sea water. It reduced the irritating cravings in terms of thirst, not the appetite, the insane craving remained. Sea water and sea salts didnt solve the issue by a long shot.
Those cravings had led michael to the orgyistic slaughter of an entire family. Four children, elementary school aged through teens, the mother and father. The father had held the longest, remaining conscious enough to be forced to bear witness to the merciless butchering of his wife and children. Over stuffing himself did not ease that craving. Michael found it interesting that liver seems to taste the same regardless of species.
There were certainly many advantages to his condition. Those same advantages however could be curses in any populated area. He thanked the Gods, that telepathy was not one of his new skills! At least he hoped it wasn’t. Talk about sensory over load! Reading the random thoughts of every one around him plus these craving and the cacophony of sensory perceptions would have driven him stark raving mad, insane in the brain!
Michael began giggling. He imagined being involuntarily committed for insisting that he was a vampire. Yes sirree the havoc and feasting he could have in a mental hospital. Doctors and nurses would be his own personal sack lunches. The orderlies, an after dinner mint. Round and round his mind whirled. Thoughts skipping from one subject to another following his own internal mayhem of logic.
Wandering aimlessly, following the concrete sea wall. Listening to the restless waves fling them selves at the wall. The cry of sea gulls. The high pitched screaming chatter of the porpoise pods at play. None of that could distract him from the deep need to find Her though. In the back ground of every thought, she was there. His memories of her taunting him.
She had fed on him. Then she had casually cast him into the gutter like the trash tossed into the streets by uncouth yankee tourists. Disappearing as mysteriously as she had appeared out of the mist. As Strikingly beautiful as she is. Anyone that caught a glimpse of her would never forget her. How many amazing six foot emerald eyed redheads could there be out there? If anything She should have been easily traced down. It is not like the ginger regions of the British archipelago where she would easily fit in.
She was a compulsion that harassed his thoughts. She dominated and danced through every thought in his mind. The need for her was almost as powerful as the thirst that tormented him.
For three weeks Michael had been searching to no avail. No one seems to have ever seen her. There was no sign or memory of any one even vaguely resembling her.
He needed to find her. He had to find her. He needed to understand what he had become. What she had changed him into. He needed her , desired, craved, he burned, Ahhh it was maddening.
He tried to wrap his mind around it. There was no way he could rationally accept that he had become a vampire. Seriously? A werewolf would have been pretty cool, but seriously? A blood sucking freak? She had nearly torn his throat out when she had fed on him and, that had hurt like a bitch. Now, he had developed this thirst. A craving and addiction a need and desire for the rich iron taste of blood. Michael had to grant it as proof to consider. Unless he had lost his mind and now existed in a dissociated state of delusion. Which was in the realm of possibility. Far more likely than vampires being real.
A small part of his mind was screaming at him to leave it. To stop looking for her. Think about what she had already done. How she had already changed his reality. Imagine what she may do if he did find her! Imagine the things they could do! Dark and bloody escapades of rampaging madness would be the least of it he was sure.
Michaels thoughts raced and battled amongst themselves. As his feet carried him along. Until he had wandered to the city limits of Naples.
Looking up at the green and white sign he pondered where to next? What to do now? He knew that he needed to stay away from densely populated areas. The urges to feast and rampage were hard to control. He was convinced the craving desires would eventually consume him. Being chased down by carnivorous critters only sounds like an amusing dream.
He did need to be around people though. The humans were his cattle. He had fed only twice now. That first weird morning, and a week later, in an insane frenzy. An entire family he had taken as they gathered for their evening meal. There was a demented irony in the five corpses he left laid out on the dinner table. So far Michael had had no need to feed in the two weeks since then. He idly wondered how long he could go without feeding.
Michael still drank water. He still ate regular food. Which he thought was odd. Since when did vampires hunger for anything other than blood? He didn’t remember Vampires eating regular human foods in any of the stories. Then again what the bloody hell did he know anyway!
Newspapers and the television news ran with the sensational story of the mother and child. Which was quickly connected to the feasted upon family. Michael found the so called experts, Profilers and such, amusingly inept. They had conflicting profiles and theories. None of which were in any manner close to the reality. The internet was a tizzie with insane theories. Interesting that the being drained of blood part was left out in the media reports. Probably to help eliminate the crack pots that invariably sought fame by claiming responsibilities.
After serious consideration Michael had made a necessary decision. He, for many reasons now. Needed to get away from Naples. Further south along the coast as far as he could go seemed as good of a place as anywhere. There was that favored campground and fishing expedition site from his childhood. Chokoloskee Florida here he comes!
Michael had fond memories of the campground near there. A place his grand parents had taken him as a child. That seemed a good place to go. An isolated small town, in the Thousand Islands on the edge of the Everglades seemed the perfect place until he could get a handle on these intense new sensations. Michael needed to find a balance and somehow get control of his new instincts before those instincts and needs brought the masses with pitch forks and fire to confront him. He had seen that movie before. Bela Lugosi never did win in the end did he? Michael was determined not to be staked or Frankensteined.
Summer time in Southwest Florida could be very quiet. Tourist season is in the fall and winter because the summers are hot, muggy, noseeum and mosquito infested. It rained just about daily. Sometimes two or three showers a day. Consequently there should not be many, if any people at the campground. That made it an excellent place to get a grip on all this. This bad Bram Stokeresque/ Anne Rice insanity Michael had found himself in. With a Plan clear in mind, Michael set about it. Whether or not it would be a good plan remained to be seen. For now, any sense of controlled direction was preferable to random wandering and endless appetite.
CHAPTER 3
The campground and RV park was empty except for the caretaker and Michael. He had the pool and the place to all to himself. Chokoloskee was just a little bit down the road if he needed or wanted anything.
Four years ago, Michaels grandparents had passed away. One at a time only weeks apart. Michael being the only living relative and heir, had inherited the school bus that his grandpa had converted into an RV.
Michael loaded it up with crucial supplies, books, booze, snack food , weed, guitars, his full ren-festival gear, Chainmail, helm, longsword, tomahawks and three spears. Period clothing, boots. After some serious consideration he stowed his firearms as well. Michael had an extensively decent selection.
Michaels grandfather, an accomplished carpenter had built secret, hidden gun cases throughout the old bus. Michael had never taken his grandfathers guns out of the r.v. after checking on them when he took possession. Between his and his grandfathers collection, Michael was literally equiped for anything that crawled, slithered, flew, walked or ran. Of course now, Michael did not need any of that to be able to take anything that walked, flew, crawled or slithered. If anything the Polar bears and Grizzlies best stay out of his way now.
Michael hooked up his beat up 4x4 Suzuki Samurai behind the bus, towing it along as he left Naples behind.
This was actually the first time he had gone anywhere in the bus, without his grandparents. The last time had been when he was fourteen years old and they had gone to the family reunion up in north Florida. Right near the Florida Georgia line. It seemed a little strange to be driving it by himself now.
Just under two and a half hours and he had arrived at the campground. Michael checked in, paying for two months on a pull thru space with all of the amenities. There was a public bathroom and shower next to the pool. That was helpful because he had no idea how to drain the waste tank on the bus. Michael settled in, plugged in a favorite dvd and kicked back.
He soon discovered that the everglades at night, were just as noisy as the city had been. Only, here it was birds, insects, gators and frogs all singing all night. The well water smelled of sulfur, which made him slightly queasy. With that as his only complaint, it was still much better than the city.
Michael discovered a new wonder his first night here. With no light pollution, the skies were spectacular. He could clearly see all the different colors of the stars and planets. Truly like polished gemstones scattered across the night. Looking at the moon with his bare eyes, was as clear, crisp and focussed as it had been with the cheap telescope he had as a kid. Being able to focus and make out the craters and ridges with his naked eyes was another blessing.
There had been quite a few things left in the bus by his grandparents. Grandpas pistol, a .357 revolver, a mossberg 500 shot gun. His Garand from his time in the army. A B.A.R, a World war two German mauser along with several boxes of ammo for each firearm. Michael, like his grandpa, had told no one about them. Leaving them where his grandpa kept them. Inside a compartment hidden as part of a shelf. You would never think it was anything other than an elaborate shelf. Grandpa had been an excellent carpenter. The interior of the bus was beautifully worked oak paneling and wood floor, with black walnut stained custom cabinets. A full kitchen, gas stove and oven, small refrigerator. There was even a generator.
The rear third of the bus had been turned into a bedroom with a full queen bed , closets, door.
He had a bathroom, one of those cramped things that had the toilet and sink both in the small shower. With the mobile satellite internet he had all the comforts of home.
Michael settled down taking brief excursions in his samurai, exploring Chokoloskee and Everglade city.
The need to find Her had not decreased. She haunted his dreams. She was an obsessive vision When he closed his eyes, Michael could see her clearly, walking towards him. He could hear her voice, feel her dark embrace. He simply had no idea where to look. There was the internet though. Thank you Elon Musk and the satellite network for that!
Michael searched chat rooms, social media sites. He read everything he could find on Vampires, which was less than useless. No one had a clue. It was all superstition and fantasy that did not resemble anything of his reality. Except for the whole blood thing. Enhanced senses, were a definite thing. Michael was much stronger, had faster reflexes, fantastic balance. He could move very very fast as well. Everything a top of the food chain apex predator would want or need.
Sitting, strumming his guitar as he worked on a new song. Michael realized that he now had perfect pitch, he could also modulate his voice up and down the register. Michael had not exactly been a singer before. Now, he could sing in perfect pitch in every range. He would have to buckle down and practice playing his guitar. Michael could hear the slightest error which was seriously irritating and distracting.
It occurred to Michael that once he had learned and adjusted to his new senses, He would be capable of performing any style or range of music. Considering that his only other non violent skillset lay in history and archeology, this could be a real benefit. Learn a skill in the army they said, it will give you a skill in civilian life. Yeah, exactly how does jumping out of perfectly functional air craft to pay surprise visits to people distinctly unhappy with your presence translate to civilian life? Two hitches saving every penny he could plus the GI bill, paid for four years of college. In fact, he still had a bit he’d saved plus a little nest egg his grandparents had left him. Seems that being disciplined and being an only child had paid off.
Michael had enough funds to stay at this campground through the summer. After that he would have to find a source of income or he would quickly run out of funds. He refused to touch that nest egg unless it were of critical need.
With his new abilities he was sure he could do well with just busking when the tourist season arrived. Naples was a short drive up the coast, with Ft Myers and Sarasota easily driven to as well.
Now, to figure out what he had become. Maybe he should have been scared out of his wits but Michael had never been one to panic easily. His stint in the Army had cured him of that. Patrolling in Monrovia and Kosovo had broken him of the whole panic/stress syndrome. No one trying to blow up or shoot him, no angry people with guns distinctly unpleased with his presence waiting to greet him once he landed. Jumping out of a perfectly functional aircraft that is not on fire over enemy territory while they are doing their dead level best to take you out while you are descending is never a good idea. It was exciting though. Night jumps were thoroughly most nerve wracking. Tracers are glowingly clear in the dark, you hardly notice them in daylight. Another fun point was it is hard to gauge your altitude so the ground could sometimes just reach up and smack you unexpectedly. Yeah, walking through places where genocide was the goal and the people were pursuing that goal with a serious commitment helped put life in perspective. After experiencing and surviving that world, there was little to nothing that rattled Michael anymore. One might say, his rattle had been broken and thrown away. Living in nightmares can really put things in perspective. We dream of fairytales while living in a world built from nightmares. Nothing is permanent, everything changes, everything degrades and falls apart. Entropy is the only thing that is guaranteed in existence. Michael had learned that cold fact the hard way. While pondering these things, Michael began strumming on his guitar. His grandmother used to say that if wishes were horses then beggars would ride. Hah that tired old maxim started an ear worm. A song playing in his head.
Michael began playing an old John Butcher Axis song.
Wishes.
Ending the riff abruptly with the last word, Michael nodded to himself. Yes, this was doable. He was going to need to move around, be on the down low. Who knew how many bodies would pile up around him. That would definitely draw the wrong attention. Maybe he should buy a boat. Living on a sail boat would be cool. It would make disposing his food wrappers much easier. Like that forensic examiner / serial killer on that t.v. show.
Bouncing around, busking, doin small dive gigs, Ren faires, living in the bus. Yes, this was doable until he knew more. Until he could form a better long term plan. For now it would keep him on the move and enable his search.
CHAPTER 4
The summer months passed in a blur. Michael had had to feed twice more.
Once Michael stumbled upon a lone fisherman. Wading along , fly fishing among the mangroves. Michael watched him for a while. Remembering his grandfather doing the same. Lost in a reverie Michael watched as his body moved acting without his direction.
Hell! His body was acting without him even being there in it. The fly fisherman never had a chance. His first clue that something was wrong was when Michael rose up out the water. Michael watched himself , detached as his body, his teeth, tore open the mans throat to lap at the squirting arterial blood and enjoy the more sedate flow of the blood from the veins. Taking his time, enjoying the meal, remembering bone fishing with his grandfather, until the corpse was drained.
Michael let go of it. As he waded away, he glimpsed the body floating snagged in the mangroves. Michael felt nothing , no more than he would after eating a chocolate bar.
When he reached the campground and the safety of the bus. He sat and thought about what had happened. Michael had been feeling sick for a few days. He went for a walk this morning, then...Damn, he had fed without thought and he had no control over the need or his actions. That could be a big problem. So far he had a trail of nine bodies. It would not be long before these last two were found and connected to the others.
Michael decided he had to leave. He did not want to be here when the bodies were found. With any luck the Gators and fish would disguise the fishermans brutally torn out throat. Upon reflection, Michael waded back out to the mangrove patch. He methodically tore the body into twelve pieces, then hurled them as far out into the out going tide as he could. That should solve the issue. Hopefully if found, it would appear that a gator had gotten ahold of some dumb tourist. After rinsing the remnants of the fisherman off of himself, Michael put on his clothes and headed back to the main shore. Michael did not want to look and smell like he had done exactly what he had done.
Michael hurried back to the campground where Michael hitched up his little samurai and pulled out as quickly and quietly as he could. Discretion is a choice part of valor.
Driving north, then turning east on Alligator alley, the Tamiami trail. Ft Lauderdale seemed as good a destination as any.
As he took the long turns onto Alligator alley, Michael wondered why he was going to Ft.Lauderdale. Shouldn’t he be headed deeper into the thousand Islands? Maybe Key West? Didn’t he want to avoid people? He knew he should stop and turn around, yet he continued driving east. He was compelled to do it. It was as if he were only along for the ride, in his own head.
Michael drove through the rest of the day hitting Ft liquordale ( as they called Ft Lauderdale that spring break a few years back.) Just after sunset. He had made good time.
Michael decided to park the bus in the parking lot across from the old Sears town. There at the corner of U.S. 1, Dixie highway and Sunrise blvd. That spring break they had partied with band mates at this house just down the street.
He unhitched the samurai, then decided that he wanted a drink.
The drive through the New River tunnel and along Los Olas brought back fond memories. Wondering if the Elbow room was still there on the strip. Michael was pleased to see that it was.
Just as small and dingy as he remembered. The candy store was gone. Summers looked the same though Plenty had changed over the years. Of course he couldn’t find anywhere to park , so he headed down Sunrise, looking for a parking spot.
He pulled into a strip mall, parked and walked back to the strip. As he walked up to the corner, Michael noticed the Parrot lounge was still there just down that side street. That was as good a place as any.
The last time he had been there, he had been trashed and fell off the balcony. Lucky for him, he had landed on a couple of equally drunk spring breakers. Michael resolved to avoid that balcony this time.
Naturally, he found himself sitting at the small table on that balcony.
Inside, it was too much. Too many voices, so many heart beats, so much sorrow. Michael retreated to the balcony for refuge. Sitting, sipping his rum, neat. He had never appreciated the subtleties of the Kraken before. All of the complex nuances were very pleasant.
He went through four doubles, straight up and neat. Michael quickly found himself quite buzzed.
He sat, sipped, enjoyed the breezy fresh sea air and watched people move along the side walk, it was like, watching a herd moving on the plains. Thoughts arose unbidden. Assessments made, potential prey categorized. Without a conscious desire.
Michael did not like that this was outside of his control. While it was quite natural for his unnatural state, being Out of control, no power over his own mind or his thoughts was something he could not tolerate. In fact it was really pissing him off. Before Michael was aware of the decision, he had moved, leaping from his chair, over the side to land on his feet on the sidewalk. A few drunken college kids were startled when he dropped into their midst. Michael ignored them. Walking briskly towards Sunrise Blvd.
Turning right he headed towards the beach. As he stood at the corner waiting for the traffic to let up and cross to the beach. Something began happening to him, happening in him.
It was as if he could feel the weight of eyes upon his skin. Michael had noticed that when he walked in public, most people ignored him as if they did not see him. People would step around him, move to avoid him as he walked or stood still. It seemed that people only perceived him when he chose for them to, otherwise they ignored him.
It was sort of like what he had imagined being invisible would be like. This feeling of being watched, actually being seen was exhilarating.
Adrenaline flowed, Michael began to clumsily focus his senses on locating the source of that gaze. However, he could not see anyone reacting to his presence let alone staring at him.
Michael crossed the street, walking onto the beach, at the waters edge he turned north, walking towards the Park , which was closed for the night.
Michael did not think about it, letting whatever this awareness was guide his steps. There were no people on the beach here. Behind him were where the crowds were.
Something was drawing him. Something in the shadows. And then there she was. Seeming to materialize in front of him.
The mysterious woman, demon spawn, hell bitch or whatever, the one he had been looking for. The one that started all of this, the one that had bitten and infected him body mind and soul.
Michael was startled by her sudden appearance. She seemed, different yet the same. More vibrant with shimmering flames surrounding her. The same blood red hair. The same mesmerizing frozen emerald flames of her eyes.
She was dressed in tight leather jeans, with the same jacket as before. She held a pair of boots in one hand, Walking barefoot in the sand.
" So, you survived.” She said cocking her head to the side looking him up and down. She took her time in looking him over. Until she finally smiled. “Well, come on then.” She said as she turned about, walking north along the beach.
Silently Michael followed her. Watching her move, sinuous , graceful, relaxed yet powerful. Abruptly she stopped turning to face him. Moon light caught her eyes. Glittering emeralds, silver flashes on the facets. ” Will you just be rude and silent as you stare at my arse or will you speak? Speak your mind boy!” her voice shook him from the trance he had fallen into.
“It was rude of you to bite me and throw me away you know! What was that, dine and dash? And You wanna talk about being rude?” Some of the old Michael breaking through. His anger clear in his tone.
She tilted her head and smiled as she began walking. ” Good to know you have some spirit.” She tossed over her shoulder back at him.
" Come on Michael, keep up.” Then she began to run. She was fast! She had already taken several running steps before he had see her move.
She became A blur kicking sand up as she ran. Michael followed suit marveling at the way his body worked. It was almost like flying. Ok, it was nothing like actual free fall, he had no idea what flying without a plane would be like, but he imagined it was something like this. Michael did know, it did not feel like sky diving. That was nothing close to flying, that had been sheer terror and falling.
This, this was exhilarating.
In his rush to catch up he did not think of anything beyond catching up to her. As he began to catch up, Michael saw that she no longer moved in a hazy blur. He could see her clearly, see her arms pumping, the play of muscles across her back, her legs. Those leather pants accentuated every movement. Her boots clutched firmly in her hands, her bare feet seemed to barely touch the sand. She left no discernable foot steps, merely little twirls of sand that left no trace of her passing.
She stopped abruptly. Michael tripped over his own feet trying to stop. Tumbling across the sand a good few yards before coming to rest face down, face buried in the sand.
Michael was slow in recovering, rolling over to sit up slowly. Her laughter assaulted his pride. She approached, offered her hand. He gazed up at her.
The realization of what he had just done drove out any embarrassment. They had run for about Five minutes he estimated. Now they were several miles north of where they had started.
They had left the commercial and public beach fronts behind. There were concrete walls that lined the beach. Michael knew that there were some very expensive homes beyond those walls. Grasping her wrist as she grasped his she heaved him to his feet.
" Who are you? What are you...” The anger had been replaced with a confused wonder. Her laughter cut him off. She shook her head. The sea breeze lifted her hair, which seemed to float around her face as if magical spiders had spun webs of flames around her face. Damn, Michael could feel himself falling into her eyes. He knew she was deadly dangerous, fully aware of his impending destruction Michael wanted to get lost in those crystalline emerald depths. Run his fingers through her flame tinged hair, to touch her. Michael did not care what the consequences would be. It would be worth it.
What the hell was happening to him? He could see himself enraptured, aware of the besotted state he displayed yet could not stop it. It was as if he were in two places simultaneously. One lost in her eyes, the other drifting just over head watching.
A string of softly accented consonants flowed from her. The language was , Welsh? Irish? Mixed with an oddly pronounced Latin. Several words ending in rix, whole lines without vowels. It sounded much like Sindarin, the Elvish language from the Lord of the rings movies.
Michael was only partially listening to Morgan.
He was mostly focussed on how intensely she was affecting him. Or was it afflicting him? An internal debate began , which ended with the decision that Morgan was a WMD. A woman of mass distraction, or was it Woman of mass destruction? A fresh internal debate began. Michael began to chuckle at his internal wit.
Morgan paused, observing that Michael was not in fact paying any attention to what she had been saying. With a heavy sigh, she tracked his eyes, as they focussed on various anatomical details of hers, then briefly unfocused as he became lost in that thought. Discerning the nature of those thoughts, Morgan shook her head in irritation. Just as Michael registered that she had stopped speaking Morgan slapped him in the face.
The pain registered before the sharp crack that echoed off of the sea wall. “Pay attention!” Morgan snapped at him.
Michael, seriously surprised that she had slapped him, wondered if she had read his wandering thoughts. Morgan quirked an eyebrow. Michael nodded , ” Umm, I was.“ Feeling a bit angry that she had hit him. Michael struggled to maintain his temper.
Rolling her eyes She snapped ” ye damned well know what I mean! Words boy, my words not my teats!” Michael nodded, ” Yeah, I guess I can only think about one thing at a time and they are so damned entrancing. Theres only enough blood for one head at time.” She considered slapping him again. When that cheeky grin spread across his face, she couldn’t help herself and slapped him again. This time Michael was ready.
Blocking and catching her arm, Michael brightened his smile as he dropped and rolled pulling on her arm. She sailed over him and slammed into the sand on her back with a loud ” Oooofff”. She was not happy with this. No she did not like this what so ever. She is also drop dead gorgeous when she is angry. Michael saw no down side to any of it.
CHAPTER 5
*************
“So set fire to the night
We’ll dance in it’s light
Till yesterdays ashes are cold
She’s the ravens delight
The soul of the night
With a hunger for darkness and souls”
**************
Morgan spoke in an sibilant eldritch language. As she spoke, Michael began to pick up a word here, a phrase there. Understanding more as She continued speaking. Words took shape, formed images in his mind as she spoke. Changes had happened, were happening within his brain. At the molecular level. Michaels entire nervous system now acted as an transmitter, one operating on extremely long band waves and highly efficient. Michael was Quantum entangled with Morgan and tuned into her brainwaves being broadcast by her central nervous system. This combined with the skin sensitivity to electro magnetism acted as a transceiver, broadcasting and receiving brain waves in the elf range. (ELF:Extreme low frequency) Images and emotions flowed into his mind along with the spoken words. After a few minutes of intense concentration he began to understand her.
That was surprising and new! She had been berating him, quite brutally as it turned out. It reminded him of a drill sergeant dressing down new recruits. Those phrases and words coming from that angelic face was completely incongruous. Each nasty delivered in an clipped manner. The only thing missing was the dreaded knife hand. The image of a drill instructor raven flashed unbidden through his mind. Followed by the same Raven on R. Lee Ermeys shoulder berating the gunny. The look of what the fuck on Michaels face and his burst of fresh laughter brought her to a stop as she realized he had finally begun understanding her.
Clarity brings understanding the saying goes. That adage is not always true at all. While he now understood the words she spoke, their true meanings and contexts were still confusing to him. Incomplete knowledge brings confusion.
Morgan did that tilted head raven imitation thing of hers, eyes measuring him. Some might say that faceted gems are cold, empty or distant. No, that is not the case at all. Her eyes were emerald flames crystallized. Far from cold or empty. Fiery depths to consume souls and drown hearts within. Wells of eternity that devoured the light around her and transformed it all into a piercing perception of all she surveyed. The eyes of a Goddess surveying her realm with majesty.
Michael wanted to say something but, he forgot the words as well as the thoughts that formed them in the effort to speak. Her emerald eyes had mesmerized him. Randomly a question drifted across his mind. What is happening? What is this, this intensity?
She read the question and smiled. Shaking her head, ” Na, do not worry yourself. Our passions burn bright. The flames burn long, we see all deeply, our emotions rage intensely, furious storms of sensation and perception you will get used to it.” Then, she moved closer and lightly nipped at his bottom lip, turning away and vaguely gesturing for him to follow. Michael discovered that he was no longer angry at her. He had lost all focus on everything except his Goddess.
With no visible effort, she leapt up and over the sea wall. Michael did not understand why that eight or nine foot vertical leap surprised him. He followed. Landing on the manicured lawn sheltered by the wall. Lemon and Orange trees , Hibiscus, Roses, and night Jasmine in a chaos of scented pleasure enveloped him. Morgan disappeared into the bungalow there before him, her voice cutting through the drone of sea breeze and surf.
“Relax Michael, have a seat. ” a brief pause and a muffled queried “Mead?” He heard the tinkle of crystal and the pop of a cork. ” I have never had mead.” he replied. Morgan walked back out onto the patio placing a bottle and glasses on the wicker table as she folded herself into the chair. Grandly she waved her hand, gesturing at the table and accompanying chair.
He sat as she poured a golden elixir into the glasses that smelled of honey and spices. Taking the glass she proffered, he tasted the mead. Sweet fire, Honeyed cinnamon, herbs, it was quite pleasant. She smiled at the clear expression of pleasure on his face.
This was not at all as he had imagined it would be when he found her. There had been moments of fiery vengeance, fantasies of horrific vampiric battles that had played through his thoughts. There had been moments of depression and rage. There had been dark and blood soaked fantasies of orgiastic feasting. Mostly, there was this endless aching need. An emptiness screaming to be filled. Now, it was all wonder and awe, is that incongruous?
Michael pondered the absurdity of it all. His world had been turned inside out, laid waste. His life had become, what, he did not know what he had become. Humanity had been left far behind, shed like a serpent sheds it’s skin. The oddest part of it all, was the calm acceptance he felt with a feeling that he had finally gotten home after a long grueling journey. The feeling that, for the first time ever, he belonged somewhere. The problem being that Michael had no idea where or what that somewhere was. Throughout his life, the only times Michael had felt at home, had been in the midst of the two way firing range of war or the blissful uncertainty of a night jump under fire. The fear, the elation of survival, the adrenaline rush of battle. Those things had been strangely comforting to him.
Morgan sipped her mead, studying Michael, reading him, assessing. There was something about him. Something more than just the blood calling to her. He seemed somehow familiar. As if she should know him intimately. Was this merely an intense lust? He was very, um, yes, he was pleasing to look at. She walked her gaze up and down. Taller than her, very fit though slender. Chest much wider than his hips, he moved with a graceful confidence carrying himself with an aloof indifference. The fluid movement of a trained dancer , or martial artist. Clearly an apex predator. No arrogance displaced, merely an aloof indifference. Hazel green eyes that shifted, green to blue, chameleon like, shifting with the background around him and highlighted by his moods. Long strawberry blonde hair swept past his shoulders. Natural hilights shifting from red gold to hints of pale blonde. Light sprays of freckles, Yes, he was certainly a tempting morsel.
Contemplating him, she could not remember exactly why she had chosen him. Random impetuous actions is one of her charms after all. Pheromones never entered her thoughts. The fact is, Michael had enthralled her without knowing it and Michael had been enthralled as well, Just, not by Morgan. The intensity of Michaels reaction to her was not caused by Pheromones. The pheromones were a product of Michaels. Love, is the most devastating form of insanity in all of reality. Throughout the multiverse it is the same and here, Michael was busy falling in love with Morgan. The act of falling for her was calling to her, on a sensual level of scent, touch, sight, seducing her with the simple power of his existence and focus upon her. His pheromones triggered hers and as they both stared into each others eyes. A double whammy was occurring. All of this on an entirely unconscious level. Their conscious thoughts were thoughts of confusion and intensity and comfort as Dopamine and oxytocin were flooding their brains.
Licking her lips Morgan leaned forward deliberately moving closer to him. She looked directly into his eyes. He flushed, blushing without looking away. Making his responsive thoughts clear. Morgan leaned back smiling her twisted predatory smile. Satisfied in the moment, both pleased and amused, Morgan contemplated him. Her attempts at enthralling him and been ignored as if they were nothing at all. Which was a new thing to her. His gaze that wavered between wide eyed awe and burning desire was doing things to her, summoning butterflies to her stomach. That was a new thing as well. Bringing someone unvetted to the safe house had occurred without her thinking about it at all. Ah well then, you place your bets before you toss the dice. She had bet everything on the dice roll without a clue of what the game was or the pot to be won. Time to roll the bones!
Perched unseen on the seawall, Llew watched smiling. This was going better than he had hoped. Time to back away , must not tip his hand or interfere yet. Dropping back onto the beach, Llew fished a cellphone from his pocket, texting instructions as he walked back towards the Strip. Might as well grab a snack before heading back to Savannah. Things here were well in hand. Almost surprisingly so.
CHAPTER 6
“We’ll conquer the night
Be dawns dark delight
Mornings sweet promise of pain
The rhyme and the reason
Sweet madness in season
The blood knows the memories made”
*************
Morgan leaned closer to Michael again, refreshing their glasses with the sweet honey mead. Standing slowly, stretching as she turned away. Delighting in his hungry gaze upon her. The intensity of his desire excited her. She moved further into the house. “Coming?” He gulped the mead and followed her through the sliding glass doors into the bungalow pausing to remove his boots before stepping into the room. A large contemporary living room with the usual accoutrements. Large flat screen television on the wall, book shelves overflowing with books on nearly every subject or genre imaginable. Two recliner chairs and a large sectional sofa. There was a dinning area with a fairly large, sturdy looking old fashioned table and chairs, an entrance without a door into presumably a kitchen. The hall way was shadowed beyond the first few feet. She gestured at the easy chairs and Michael chose the one that let him see all of the entrances. One Cannot have ones back to an entrance. She observed and noted his quick automatic assessment and choice of chairs.
Morgan talked as she moved about the room. Gorgeous predatory stalking with impassioned intensity coupled with her continual shifting accent. One second, back country Irish, then Welsh, then a sort of Cockney then a southern drawl and then a flat midwestern. Michael listened as she explained. “We are faster, stronger, every sense magnified and enhanced compared to any other creature on Earth. We are far more intelligent, Simply put, we are more in every way imaginable. We are the top of the food chain. That is why the humans viewed us with awe and fear. Why they had called us Gods, though in fairness, the Aos Sidhe ( Pr: ice-shee) had created humans. Pacing, She explained the cycles of thirst and feeding needs. Alongside the intake of blood,heavy mineral supplements were required. Copper, Iron, Titanium, Magnesium, along with the standards, calcium etcetera. Flintstones multivitamins were not going to hack it. Michael raised an eyebrow when she mentioned Titanium. Seeing his silent question Morgan answered ” For our bones, teeth, nails. We use Titanium the same way humans use calcium.
“Our bodies can burn through the proteins and minerals at an extraordinary rate. Most of the time we tick along at about twice to three times the metabolic rate of humans. It is when we do those feats of speed, endurance, strength or the mind gifts, that bring on the extreme thirst. Remember, your brain consumes as much by itself as the rest of your body does. Were we to refrain, and just restrict ourselves to acting and appearing ” normal”, we could go months without the thirst. ” That explained the way Michael had been feeling. It had been nearly a month and a half since he had fed.
Have you ever drank three or four Cuban coffees in a row, just slammed them down and chased them with chocolate covered espresso beans right after slamming two Monster Coffee drinks? Doing this after two or three days without eating or sleep. Take that, add the sugar shakes, and add in an gradually over powering thirst. All you can taste at that point is a mix of salty iron and copper. Michaels canines and incisors had begun to extend while was sitting there. Running his tongue across his teeth, he thought about how much the Vampire myths had gotten wrong. He had no idea how long she had been speaking. He did know that the bottle of mead had been emptied.
Morgan stopped talking and walked over to him. She stood before him looking intensely into his eyes. Michael returned her gaze. She was beyond intoxicating. It was difficult to think of anything other than her. The sole purpose to his existence was the taste of her. Her scent so strong he could taste her on the air. She put her hands on his chest pushing him down and back into a recliner. Without breaking eye contact, licking her lips she climbed onto his lap straddling him. ” How long has it been?” She asked. “Ummmm” Michael tried to think. His body was responding to her while he struggled to maintain control. Morgan wriggled a bit, feeling his arousal. “No, not that! Feeding. How long has it been?” ” What? ” Morgan sighed ” Has all the blood left your brain?“Morgan rolled her eyes and repeated herself.
Michael told her that he had fed three or four times, he wasn’t really sure. The last time just two days before. ” No wonder you are so undeveloped! You must be half mad with the thirst. How have you not ravaged and feasted? Three or four times over, What!? Eight months? Most, if they survive go beserk for a few weeks. You say you only lost control a few times? Have you sated your thirst of your own conscious desire or has it been all instinct? ” Umm, yeah. Um no, um ” he managed to say. Yet again she had him incapable of coherent speech. Her warmth flowed into him. He could feel her through his Jeans, as if they were naked. That along with her unflinching gaze into his eyes was having definitive effects. Morgan was fully aware of the effect she was having and was quite amused by it. She deliberately squirmed about suggestively, grinding herself against him causing him to softly groan. She had a mad smile on her face as she leaned closer. ” We can save that for later” She breathed as she leaned even closer nipping sharply at michaels bottom lip. “First, you must feed.” She said, as she tilted her head back, pressing her throat across his lips. Before he could register what was happening, his teeth were piercing her flesh and he was drinking from her throat. Lapping up the salty sweet hot liquor of life. She sighed pressing closer ” ahhh thats it love, drink deeply.” Michael did so. Losing awareness of his self. Becoming only the thirst, the desire in the moment.
How to describe the taste of her? What is the taste of lightning and fire? What is the taste of a thunder storm? Throw in a good smooth Irish whiskey add some hints of cinnamon, all wrapped up in a fiery ecstasy. That begins to explain the taste of her. As he drank from her, faint electric shocks pulsed in his veins. Fire swept along his nerves. Michael began to tremble, Morgan moaned in pleasure. Until she abruptly pulled away
Michael tried, but he could not stop her. He had become as an addict, needing, desiring to consume her. She leaned back with that feral smile, licking her lips. Gently her fingers traced Michaels lips then she licked her essence from her finger tips.
Michael watched enraptured, fascinated, as the ragged holes in her neck and throat healed. The room shimmered around him. She became as living flames embracing him. Michael saw his arms, his hands, tiny flames dancing across his skin. She seemed to float up, away from him. Red, gold, blue, green, white flames twisting, walking away to her chair. Michael continued to burn, inside and out. The flames were not consuming him they were changing him further. As they writhed along his body, the flames whispered to him, voices in his head and in his ears. Taking turns, telling him of wonders he had never conceived. How the world is nothing like he had believed. Humans, are not what they believed they were. No, humans were not at the top of the food chain, We are Michael thought.
The flames spoke of mysteries, of Gods walking in flesh among the nations. God-kings, Goddess-queens over nations, peoples, nations long gone, drowned in the seas, blasted and pulverized out of existence. While the world slowly transformed over millennia into the world of today.
The world today, is nothing like had been imagined by humans. They arrogantly assumed they had tamed the Earth, that they were the masters at the top of the food chain. Nothing could be further from the truth. Others immeasurably older and far more capable reigned. Humans were merely their fodder.
It was as if she were speaking to Michael inside and out, her voice, casting spells of knowledge, tearing the veil of ignorance from his eyes. Revealing to him, the world as it truly is.
People dream of fairy tales in a world built from their nightmares. As adults we learn that All of the monsters of hell, all of the demonic hordes, dwell within living beating hearts. The perfect disguise for the monsters inside.
Pain and fear, are nothing more than the building blocks of reality. Darkness is more natural than light. In the beginning pain and fear, are nothing more than the building blocks of reality. Darkness is more natural than light. In the beginning had been darkness, in the end will be darkness. Shadows dance and play between, light is the illusion. A perfect symmetry of light and shadows had been born in darkness, in the end will be darkness. Shadows dance and play between, light is the illusion. A perfect symmetry of light and shadows.
CHAPTER 7
“The path to truth is littered by the bodies of the ignorant”
Kensei Miyamoto Musashi.
The blood cast it’s spell. Transforming Michaels mind, with it his entire perception of everything. Reality unveiled itself to him. A richly layered, finely woven tapestry of wonder unfolded.
The Aos Sidhe came from a different time and world. They were from ancient places now drowned hundreds of feet below the sea and buried deeply under desert sands.
Had they evolved on this world? Had they been created? No one actually knew. The oldest among them could not remember. Not even the blood held that knowledge. Some believed they had come from Aster, the fifth planet, now blasted into orbiting rubble
The blood does not hold the knowledge of their earliest beginning, Of the original Aos Sidhe there were only faint fragmented memories of the long catastrophic fall.
What is known is that there are memories in the blood. Secrets, histories, encoded in their DNA. In their blood. Within each of them is encoded the memories, the experiences of every one that had come before them stretching back to the beginning. The memories, experiences of their direct ancestors waiting to be awakened.
Not every human is one of the folk. The seelie and unseelie court. the Aos Sidhe, or the Fomor. Though. Most Humans carry fragments, pieces of their DNA, fragments that grant slight advantages. Making them faster, stronger, smarter. Fragments that caused the great heroes from myth and history to exist. Fragments that birthed great leaders such as Agamemnon, Alexander, Arthur, heroes along with nightmares, Caeser , Genghis Khan, Stalin, Mao, Hitler.
Among the humans of the far west, the Atlantic fringe of Europe, the blood was thickest. There they had ruled and or led them many times over the centuries. Among those people we are called by the name Fair folk, Aos Sidhe, the Children of Don. The good people, the seelie and unseelie courts. Y Tylweth Teg. Those are a few names. As for us, the Fair Folk we do not know what we were called by our progeniters, we have no clue. Not a snippet remained.
Very rarely is one of the fair folk born. It is a rare thing when those fragments, align. When they do, an, for lack of a better word, a larvae is born. That larvae looks just like the regular humans, although, a little stronger, faster, better eyesight, hearing, sense of taste and smell, better memory. Aside from those gifts, the Larvae lives, procreates, and dies just like all the Humans around it does. There is no way to tell a larvae apart from the Humans. At least, no way that Humans could tell. One of the fair folk though could taste a larvae on the breeze. They can smell them, they can see the electromagnetic field surrounding them. Their “aura” so to speak, stands out like faint dancing flames, Quite a bit brighter than the scant flickers of the Humans. The larvae cannot become an adult, unless certain enzymes, produced only by an adult Aos Sidhe, are introduced, usually via a bite. Those enzymes are part of the saliva. The enzymes awaken the genes inducing a metamorphosis. Once all of the Proteins in the DNA are altered and converted, they are born anew.
No , the fair folk are not the walking dead, pseudo Draculas risen from the grave. The Aos Sidhe are very much alive. More alive than any other living intelligent creature on this world. The Aos Sidhe are the true apex predator of all life on this spinning ball of earth, in this star system to be honest. We are the Survivors. We are the inheritors. We are few, our numbers diminishing as the humans population explodes. Those expanding numbers diffuses those fragments of our DNA, reducing the likelihood that the fragments, align and join. The more people there are, the thinner the blood.
The fair folk were the first. That much we do know. The first creative, intelligent, self aware beings. As far can be told, the first ones that arose on the grass steppes of the Middle East, Eurasia, the grass plains of Africa. Fossils have been found. Ancient skulls that belonged to our distant ancestors. There have never been found, any transitional fossils however No skulls or bones or traces. When they compared our ancestral DNA with that of the contemporary hominids. Absolutely none of it, not a fragment not even a partial amino acid or protein link, could be found in any of the hominids, in any creature, except the fair folk. The ancient skulls of our ancestors just appeared out of the blue on the steppes of Eurasia and the grass plains of Africa. They simply appeared, intact, whole, from where? We have no clear indication. That otherworld origin seemed quite probable.
About three or four hundred thousand years ago, the story began. The Aos Sidhe were the only ones with speech, fully upright, omnivores with opposable thumbs using tools of stone and bone. Far more advanced than any if the smaller hominids of Africa. The Aos Sidhe bore only superficial similarities with the hominids. There were three hominids that were encountered on the third planet. Throughout Europe, Eurasia and South east Asia as the Aos Sidhe spread out across the world. Current science calls them Cro Magnon, Neanderthal and Denisovan.
The ancestors of today evolved and developed. Creating farms, then towns, cities. Evolving rapidly over time. They invented technologies far in advance of the twenty first century Humans of today. Cities became nations, nations became empires. Empires clashed.
What did they fight about? The same things empires always fight about. Power, access and control of resources, coupled with the need to continually expand, to grow, or the empire withers and dies. Wars are the survival reflex of empires.
These wars were fought with weapons the twenty first century barely imagines. Directed energy weapons, beams and pulses of Positrons, Electrons, Neutrons, Protons, Lasers, Masers. There were Thermonuclear bombs. There were advanced trans atmospheric air craft. Interplanetary Space Craft, Orbital facilities. Colonies on the fourth and fifth planets. The most devastating weapons, the ones that brought those wars to an end were the planet killing point singularities. Temporary black holes that dissipated in nano seconds. There were biological and chemical weapons in the mix as well. Of them all, the Bio weapons were the worst. The singularities killed quickly. The bio weapons transformed people into horrors of excruciating pain and rage. Self aware disassociated creatures dying slowly in agony. In effect, self aware zombies that existed trapped within unable to control a body that decayed and rampaged feeding an unending appetite while experiencing the trauma and pain of the slowly dissolving bodies.
After the fifth planet was destroyed, becoming the asteroid belt, fragments of which rained down across the surface of the fourth planet destroying the atmosphere on the fourth planet, eradicating the colonies. By mutual unspoken consent and driven by fear, Point singularities were no longer used. That was when they began throwing rocks at each other. Mass divers and low thrust ion engines steered the asteroids to their targets. Gravity did the rest.
The orbital facilities were quickly wiped out. No one could protect themselves from the small asteroids used. An asteroid the size of a small house, would hit and explode with the force of Nuclear weapons. These rocks were infinitely safer, leaving no radiation, no radioactive fallout. Craft were launched from the earth, physically traveling to the new asteroid belt and nudging them, controlling
them so that they would hit cities, space ports, missile silos, laboratories. The end was far beyond imagining. The climate drastically altered. Devastation covered the earth. The Ice at the poles and the massive continent spanning glaciers began melting, bringing massive floods across continents. The seas rising, in fact, the seas rose over three hundred fifty feet. While those horrors occurred, the true night mares walked the earth. Biological weapons, plagues, diseases, Chemicals that destroyed central nervous systems, that induced forms of insanity in the masses. Bioengineered weapons that walked, fought, destroyed. Nightmares that would haunt the dreams and memory of this world forever.
Civilization was virtually wiped from the surface of the planet. There were a few survivors that managed to hold out in two remaining cities. Horrific changes had been heaped upon the world, and, to the people. Biological and chemical weapons had altered the survivors. They had lost the ability to produce certain blood cells, certain enzymes. They had lost the ability to reproduce. There was no source for the needed tranfusions, except the survivors themselves. Artificial blood could sustain them for short times, but still killed them in the end. The peoples genetic damage was beyond their ability to repair. Raiding occurred between the cities, to capture sources of the blood and enzymes needed to live. The Gods battled amongst themselves.
Their scientists, began manipulting the DNA of the few surviving hominids, altering and combining Denisovans, Neanderthal, Cromagnon. The three could interbreed without manipulation to begin with which made them perfect to work with. The hybrids were a bit more intelligent, and robust. But their blood could not sustain the people. In desperation, the scientists began taking DNA samples from the survivors, then by splicing the undamaged fragments from many hosts, they could create one intact Dna strand. That strand was introduced to the hybrids. Thus, were Humans created. Created as cattle, hamburger on the hoof.
The new species thrived. They were fairly intelligent , learning quickly. They had short lifespans, forty to fifty years, but, they reproduced rapidly.
The Humans, thrived, and as their population grew, expanded from the survivors cities in the Euxine basin, under what is now the Black Sea and What is now under the Persian Gulf. The Humans spread to every part of the world.
About thirteen or fourteen thousand years ago, the final war was fought over control Of the Human herds. That war, is where the legends of Atlantis and Lemuria came from.
That war destroyed all but a hand full of the survivors, who had fled the destruction with nothing but what they could carry on their backs. The remnants of the cities were drowned beneath two new seas. The Black sea, and the Persian gulf. That flood is where the surviving Humans, developed the great flood myths, Atlantis, Lemuria, the war of the gods. All based upon true history.
Those that fled along the Danube river into Europe, and the Don, up into the Steppes of Ukraine, established themselves, herding the human cattle. Becoming their Gods. The Aesir, Vanir, The Aos Sidhe, the pantheons of Greece and Rome. Some survivors of the Fomor fled into South Asia and into Africa where they became the gods of the humans there. These Gods taught the humans new wonders. Metal working, gold and copper, writing, mathematics, astronomy, agriculture and Civil engineering. In return the humans offered worship, and Blood Sacrifices. Less than a hundred an fifty ” gods” had survived that final war on earth.
The centuries passed, the “Gods” died off one by one. Slain in the continued skirmishes, battles between the arrogance of the Fair folk and the cold calculating evils of the Fomor.
Heroes, great leaders arose among the Human herds. Their farms became towns, became cities, became nations, became empires. The human herds were copying their gods, mimicking their creators.
Around six or seven thousand years ago, the first of the new “gods” were born. This greatly surprised the very few of the old ones that remained. The transformation process was discovered, new gods were born. Only one or two every half century or so. The Elder race was slowly being reborn.
The Humans brought blood sacrifices and worship. Over time the old gods passed and the new gods reigned. The cattle herds grew abundantly.
It was discovered that occasionally, one of the new gods could impregnate a human. “demigods” began to be born. As the human population grew, fewer and fewer of the “gods” were born. As the human empires developed, the gods feared they could not control these massive populations and began to withdraw, to go into seclusion.
Morgan, Michael had learned, was part of the Morrigan. Somewhere, Lugh, Thor, Odin and the Anunaki Fomorii , Quetzalcoatl/Set the serpent. That old Satan still walked. Isis, Athena, Brighid, Amaterasu, and of course Morrigan, were all known to still be walking among the Humans as well. Exactly how many and who had survived was not known. The Fair Folk remained a fractious and war like people.
Now, they were reduced from gods to stories of vampires , stories to frighten children. Essentially immortal, they preyed upon the humans, predators now hiding in plain site.
Humans had evolved, developed technologies, numbers, and could now kill, or capture and experiment on them. Secrecy was now paramount. If the Humans ever discovered them and ever began to study or experiment upon them, terribly horrible things would ensue. Not just to the Aos Sidhe, but to all humans as well. The truth of their existence must never be revealed lest everything be destroyed, all life consumed.
CHAPTER 8
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So I showed her my heart
The dark evil parts
The darkness and hunger within
She swallowed my night
Gave wings to my flight
Stoking my fires of sin
Is this love? Is this lust?
Is it fire or dust?
Is it something I cant understand?
Is this wrong? Is this right?
Is this evils respite?
I am lost in the dance of the damned.
***********************
Michael sat, stunned might sort of describe it. Shell shocked? Definitely over whelmed. The flames had dissipated some time during that journey, receding into faint, hazy flickers Morgan sat across the room from him smiling, watching. Thoughts raced, jumbled and confused. Michael did not know how to react. That seemed to be becoming the norm where Morgan was involved. He was looking for a word, any word. He sat up staight, staring at Morgan, slack jawed and stammering. She laughed and, leapt, no, pounced would be more like it. Landing on her knees , on the recliner, straddling a now highly aroused Michael.
Morgan gave him no opportunity to speak, no time for questions, no time for understanding. Not that he could even breathe. She wrapped her self around him and began kissing him. It took a few moments of her, kissing, nipping and squirming, before Michael could respond. He was astonished at the sensations. He could feel the flames of their auras mingling, dancing together. Then to Morgans pleasure, Michael was kissing her back and reacting to this Storm that had wrapped herself around him. Morgan laughingly muttered “Finally” against his lips. Kissing him deeply. A different sort of fire raged within and between.
Time ceased? The storm broke? Is there an adequate metaphor to describe when a goddess of war and fate, is making love with a new born “god”? Probably not.
What can be said is that chaos destruction and madness marked their passionate union. The back of the sofa broken off, the recliner twisted and destroyed, the coffee table smashed. Blood flowed, nails scratched and clawed, voices moaned and cried out. Michael and Morgan did not notice any of the destruction. Nor would they have cared. There were much more important things significantly demanding their attentions. Absorbed in the taste, the feel, the fires of each other. Does a Hurricane notice the city it floods and flattens? Does a tornado care? Would a volcano? The storm of passions ran it’s course. Leaving a joyous destruction in its wake.
*************************
The late afternoon sun was shining through the little narrow window in the bathroom. Michael woke up to a feeling of being burned. He yelped and snatched his foot out of the sunbeam. That woke up Morgan. They looked around and began to scramble out of the big sunken Roman tub they had fallen asleep in. Blood drunk they stumbled, moving clumsily, drunkenly. Neither one was clothed. There was no sign of clothing in the bathroom. In trying to support each other they fell together, laughing on the cold tile floor. Laughter led to kisses, kisses led to touching, caressing, which led to need and desire. A desire that could not be denied or delayed. This was not making love. This was fiercely violent passions. This was a desire, a lust incandescent and fulfilled, Sated for the moment.
They ventured out, tripping over the crumpled up throw rug that had somehow landed in the hall. Michael hit his head on the wall. Of course, Morgan laughed.
Her leather jacket was hanging on the coat rack by the front door. That was the only intact or upright thing in either the living room or the adjoining dining room. There were pieces of clothing here and there. A leather pants leg hung from the ceiling fan. It looked like two tornadoes had been wrestling with chainsaws.
Grabbing her jacket and slipping it on , Morgan stepped gingerly through the destruction, heading back down the hallway to her bedroom. She rummaged about, drawers opened, doors slammed, muttering erupted.
Michael moved about randomly picking up broken things then putting them back down. Fleeting images of the previous night danced in his memories. He was unsure of where to put things away. There were So many smashed and broken fragments he had no idea what to salvage, what would be repaired.
So, he settled for scooting things out of the way making a path to the hall then working his way Into the kitchen.
When Morgan walked into the kitchen, she was holding some clothing, which she tossed onto the counter. Michael had been bent over, head in the fridge as he rummaged .
Morgan perched on a barstool, and enjoyed the view. She could not resist herself, she reached out and smacked his bare ass. “HEY!!” Michael jerked up and yelled out as he set some things on the counter.
When he spun about slamming the refrigerator door closed and knocking the eggs off the counter. Morgan was across the room in a blur to snatch the two eggs before they hit the floor.
" Impressive! Breakfast?” Michael exclaimed reaching for her. Morgan spun out of his reach still holding the eggs. ” Not in the kitchen!” Echoed off the tiles. “There's clothes on the counter, and those cabinets are new, so none of that in my kitchen!”
Disappointed, Michael took the clothes and examined them. He rejected the baggy shorts in favor of a pair of tiger striped BDUs, and a black t shirt. Morgan watched him wriggle into the tight fitting t shirt. It was clearly too small. Michael squeezed in to it stretching it to fit. Morgan approved of his choices. She had already dressed, boots on, jeans, black camisole top and the leather jacket she wore everywhere. Michael eyed a pair of flip flops Morgan had scrounged. They were too small. He tried to rember where his shoes were. There had been no sign of them in the debris of the living room.
Morgan cheerfully announced ”Waffle House! ” tossed the eggs to Michael and spun about heading for the front door. He carefully put the eggs back in the fridge along with the bacon and ham he had pulled out. Before following her.
Morgan called from the front porch, ” Shoes! Your boots are on the back porch! " Michael followed her voice. When he opened the sliding glass door, Morgan was standing in the driveway at the side of the house beside a 1968 Dodge Coronet 440, black of course. From the glance he got as he was hopping about trying to get his boots on.
Morgan had gotten in and started the car by the time Michael got his boots on. He got in on the passenger side, enjoying the rumble of the big block and glass packs. They were off to Waffle House.
Cruising along north bound on A1A, in a classic Dodge with a stunningly gorgeous redhead beside him. Shaking his head, Michael sat back enjoying the world. Twenty four hours ago, he would not have even fantasized that he would be doing this today, let alone everything else.
Morgan glanced at him grinning. Things had not gone as she had planned at all. Last night she had been on her way to a job when she had seen Michael walking on the beach. Oh well, today she would just have to pay her job a visit in his office. Food first. She and Michael had fed from each other during their romp, that was not going to be sufficient. She felt twinges of thirst. She had been seriously drained by last nights activities. One little stop in Boca, then off to Waffle house.
They pulled into a strip mall parking lot. ” I have an errand, be just a minute.” Morgan remarked getting out. Before Michael could say anything, she was gone.
Just a minute turned out to be ten minutes. Morgan reappeared looking satisfied. Hopped in and started the car. “Missed a spot” Michael remarked, reaching over wiping a spot of blood off of Morgans chin.
They drove north , passing several restaurants. Michael marvelled how quickly he had accepted this new life. He had thought nothing of Morgan feeding. His stomach grumbled. ” We will stop in just a sec!” Morgan tossed aside at Michael. Barely a minute later they pulled into the parking lot of this ratty little convenience store. Morgan threw it in park, and bounced out of the car. ” You are gonna love this!” She said opening the glass door. Michael followed. In the back of the store was a deli counter. Morgan let loose a stream of Spanish and the short elderly man behind the counter, nodded, held up two fingers, as he scooped several empanadas into a bag. He handed them to Morgan. A teen aged girl handed Michael two tiny cups. The Cuban Coffee was black, sweet and very strong as he tossed it back, handing Morgan the other cup. She slammed hers as well then leaned across the register counter and kissed the old man on the cheek. He smiled and headed for he back door as Morgan and Michael went out the front.
A few minutes later, Michael on his second flaky spicy meat pastry spoke around a mouth full. ” These are great” came out “cheese err grey!” Morgan laughed ” Told you!” They were driving west now.
It was not until after they had merged onto the north bound lane of the turn pike that Michael spoke up. ” I thought we were going to waffle house.” “We are.” Morgan replied. “Where, Orlando?” Michael asked. ” No. Yeehaw Junction, best t-bone and pork chops in the State.” Michael said nothing, he just reached into the bag for another empanada. It would be about an hour still. He settled in, munched, and sneaked the occasional glance at Morgan driving to waffle House. Shaking his head, Michael sat back and enjoyed the ride. Morgan clearly had something to do, Michael was just along for the ride.
" I was really wanting a waffle soaked in butter and maple syrup! You promised me Waffles, where are my waffles?”
Morgan looked at Michael amused by his fake petulance. “Patience sir.”
CHAPTER 9
“Truth is not what you want it to be; it is what it is, and you must bend to its power or live a lie.” -Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings”
“It is not events that disturb people, it is their judgement concerning them”
Emperor Marcus Aurelius
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Morgan slowed down, sliding smoothly into the toll booth lane. ” There's a change jar in the glove box” she said while reaching for the turnpike ticket on the dash. Michael pushed the shiny chromed button and a mason jar rolled out of the glove box, unscrewing the lid Michael proffered the jar to Morgan as she rolled down the window handing the ticket to the attendant. Morgan did not look into the jar, she simply slipped her hand in , wriggled her fingers and fished out a $20.00 waving the bill at the attendant,with a cheerful “Keep the change”, she pulled out, turned left, driving a short distance before pulling into the Stukeys. Parking at the pump she fed her debit card into the slot and told Michael to fill it up. ,,” Want a moon pie?” She tossed over her shoulder walking into the store. Michael worked the gas nozzle, locked the nozzle handle and decided to look under the hood. He was not disappointed. A dressed out 440 greeted his eyes. Black ribbed Moroso valve covers, black Hooker headers and he could see the outline of the six pack, triple two barrel carbs under the chromed Breather. “Nice!” He checked the oil, it was perfect. Clean, looked recently changed. Quickly checking the other fluids, finding everything ready to go, he dropped the hood just as the gas nozzle clicked off. Michael squeezed another fifty cents in and hung it up. Morgan reappeared, two Pepsis and two chocolate moon pies in hand. Michael crooked an eyebrow at her as he accepted the soda and moon pie. ” Waffles?” He asked. Morgan laughed, “Soon enough.”
They pulled out of the Stuckeys and just as Michael was taking a bite of his moon pie, they pulled into the parking lot of the Desert Inn. A rundown old Motel, package store, bar and restaurant. Michael had begun to realize that Waffle House was a distant goal . Morgan grinned impishly at him. ” Just go along with it.” Laid a quick kiss on his lips and bounced out of the car. She paused at the glass door waiting for him. Then opened the door and held it for him. He stepped over the threshold, to be greeted by a large plastic spider hanging at eye level.
The two Native american dummies seated completed the entire old Florida tourist trap vibe. Morgan led the way into the restaurant. As they sat in the booth, waiting for their cheeseburgers. Michael realized that the day before had been the winter solstice. Dec 22 2019 was going to be a day Michael would long remember.
He sat, gazing around the restaurant, the various Florida cracker displays, the Jackalope, old photos on the walls. He noticed, one of the old black and white photos in particular. Morgan was there, sitting on the hood of a 57 chevy, poodle skirt and sweater, showing it to have been in the 1950s.
Morgan noticed his focus, seeing the picture she smiled. “Yes” was her reply to the unasked question. Michael turned his attention back onto Morgan. He sat quietly, looking at her, waiting.
She could feel the weight of his interest. The unasked questions piling up. Cocking her head, she made a low ravens croak. Michaels look turned from a focused gaze into a what the fuck Look.
Morgan checked her phone. Nodded, and dropped a room key on the table. ” Can we get those to go?“she asked the waitress as she slid out of the booth. A bemused somewhat confused Michael followed. She thanked the cashier, tossed the bag of burgers to Michael and told him she would meet him in the room. Then headed into the Package store that was part of the whole Desert inn experience.
Michael stood on the walkway looking at the Jack ass crossing sign until Morgan reappeared and went straight to the cars trunk. Placed the paper bag she was carrying in it and rummaged a bit then closed the trunk, turned and headed for the outside stairs. Michael followed her.
The room was small, with a ratty carpet, peeling paint, and a questionable double bed. Morgan went straight to a closet next to the narrow bathroom door, pulled out sheets and pillow cases tossing them to Michael. ” Fix up the bed would you?” She went into the bathroom closing the door behind her. Michael could hear the sound of running water. Sighing, he stripped then remade the bed. He was still holding the coverlet trying to decide whether to put it on the bed when Morgan stepped out of the Bathroom. Michael forgot what he had been thinking and dropped the coverlet on the floor.
Morgan stood wearing only her evil grin. Hair still damp from the shower, she pounced on the bed, ” Going to join me?” Michael shed his shirt and was unbuttoning the BDUs confronted with the freshly showered morgan when thought about the fact that he had not had a shower since Thursday. It is Saturday. He announced that he needed a shower first. Morgans eyes lit up.
She waited until the bathroom was nice and steamy. Morgan carefully crept into the bathroom, then slowly, ever so gently moved the shower curtain just enough for her to get in. Michael was washing his hair, eyes closed when a hand not his grasped him. He knew it could only be Morgan. Disappointed that he had not jumped when surprised, she soaped down his back and washing it thoroughly. She washed every part of him she could reach. Until Michael finally hit his limit. With a long growl He tore the shower curtain completely down. Path clear Michael bent just enough to catch Morgan by the waist. When he straightened back up he held a wet and squirming Morgan over his shoulder. She was laughing and pounding on his back. Michael spanked her once hard ,” Be still woman!”
Morgan stopped confused. He was speaking lowly in verse. “You’re like dried blood on the floor of surprise ” “What the fuck was that?” Morgan tried to ask. “Hush do you want another one?”
Morgan started to call him a nasty bastard, however she was thinking about him spanking her. No one had ever dared, no one had ever tried what Michael was doing. This was different. It was bringing surprisingly interesting results.
Michael tossed her onto the bed roughly. Then he began new and diverse attentions.
Kissing, nipping lightly at her ankle. Along the calf, behind and around her knee , the inside of her thigh. Then he moved to her other ankle and began the same thing. Morgan reached down and tangled her hand in his hair. Her other hand followed. She was not thinking clearly.
This time when Michael reached her inner thigh. He nipped a little harder, growling softly as he worked his way to the middle. Morgan was squirming, enraptured as Michael explored with tongue and teeth. When he hit that little spot. Held it between his teeth growling and sucked as hard as he could. Morgan let out a yell. that quickly became a scream in between gasping for breath. Michael was merciless in his attention to detail. He would not give her time to catch her breath. She arched her back until only her heels and the back of her head were touching the bed. She held that pose , trembling and gasping a long moment.
Smiling like a cheshire cat, Michael stopped. Moved to her wrist, touching, kissing the palm of her hand, then kissing nipping ,he worked his way up her arm and shoulder to her neck . It was then that he kissed her lips , her breasts, Michael was devouring her .
Once, she fought him off trying to catch her breath. She had backed up against the head board, wiping the sweat drenched hair out of her face. Gasping she asked ” Just what the fuck was that?” Laughing “Pressure points can bring pleasure as well as the pain.” Michael grabbed her ankles, pulling back towards him. Morgan fought back, ” Oh nooo, tis my turn now!” After a brief stuggle, Michael surrendered to her attentions. Not like he really could stop her. Not that he wanted her to stop either. Morgan was far stronger than she looked with an iron willed determined to accomplish her goals. Her dastardly evil plan was payback!
It was a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Well, spending any time with a ravaging Morgan is thing of wonder. Guaranteed to definitely leave a few scars. They spent the afternoon and evening in bed. Occasionally watching parts of what ever random shows flickered across the ScyFy channel when they paused to breath. Mostly, they paid close attention to each other.
It was just before three am when Morgan bounced out of the bed, and began getting dressed. ” Hurry up, we need to go!” She declared while pulling on her boots and throwing the Tiger striped b.d.u.s at Michael. He dressed quickly and followed her out the door. Morgan went straight to the car and opened the trunk, rummaged, then shut it just as Michael stepped up. She got in and started the car. The Dodge sat rumbling as it idled. When Michael got in, Morgan handed a Black Balaclava and gloves to Michael. “you will need these in a minute. ”
“What, are we robbing the place?” He asked. ” “No, we are meeting someone here shortly. ”
“Curiouser and curiouser” Michael misquoted. Morgan ignored him as she busied herself putting on her gloves, slipping on her black balaclava.
" Wont we sort of defeat the purpose of these,” he asked gesturing with the gloves. “No ” was the only reply forthcoming. Morgan was looking fixedly at her phone. Michael could see, she had a stop watch app displayed.
Shaking his head, he put on the gloves, noticing that the balaclava she had given him was one of those flame retardant things race car drivers wore. He was pulling that on over his head when the big boom happened. Startled, he jerked the balaclava down and climbed up out of the car. Morgan had already began moving. Debris was still falling as he followed her across the parking lot towards the source of the boom.
A semi had crashed into the end of the building completely wiping out the restaurant. The long trailer was Jack knifed along the remnant of the building face. Morgan ignored the driver screaming and burning alive in the destroyed cab sprinting to the back doors of the trailer. When Michael arrived there she had already broken the lock and torn the doors open. ” Stay here, keep an eye out” she ordered disappearing into the trailer. Ok, it was not as if Michael had a clue about the mission. He was content to await instructions while trying to scan and see everywhere at once. Searching for, for what exactly? The sleepy little cross roads was bustling with activity. A single Florida Highway patrol car had left the turnpike toll area where one always was posted to block the intersection with blue lights flashing. Michael was not happy about losing track of the only known fire arm. With it being rural Florida there were likely some concealed carriers amongst the people. Michael paid close attention to the helpers, the ones moving towards the danger. That is where the weapons likely were.
The heat from the burning restaurant and semi was intense and getting worse. Michael was now very nervous. A few people were running about, cars and trucks were pulling over along the busy highway. The flames grew as black smoke filled the sky. Morgan reappeared carrying an aluminum brief case and a long rectangular wooden case. She tossed the aluminum case to Michael, ” OK, time to go!” she barked , trotting quickly back towards her car. Michael followed.
There were so many damn questions racing through his mind that his head was spinning. Morgan told him to wait, she would explain after they got back on the road. ” Oh, and no, not Orlando. Lakeland.” She stated, seeming to read his mind as they pulled out of the parking lot. People were scurrying about, making a difficult moving maze to negotiate. Then they were out of the parking lot and west bound.
Michael took off the Balaclava and gloves. Picked up the remnants of the Cheese burger he had dropped earlier and began eating. “Hey, would you mind passing my burger?” Morgan asked, giving Michael a quick sideways glance and that evil smile of hers.
Michael unwrapped the burger and handed it to her. It had certainly been an interesting Saturday so far and Sunday was looking to be as interesting.
South central Florida seems pretty desolate at 3:30 am on a sunday morning. Michael finished his cold burger before asking ” Waffles? You promised waffles”
Morgan began laughing. She almost ran off the road she was laughing so hard. “You are amazing! After the day we had all you have to ask is Waffles? ” Shrugging ” I like waffles!” Michael then launched into a detailed dissertation on the proper perverse ways to eat waffles. The proper methods of and perverse uses of waffles. A few were new to her. A few were seriously demented and intriguing. “Why waffles?” Morgan asked. Michael explained the short comings of pan cakes. Primarily pan cakes were too floppy and dissolved far too easily. Pancakes were weak, waffles are strong!
Waffles are like, crispy pancakes with lots and lots of pockets.
Morgan was thoroughly amused. Michael seemed as if he just might work out. ” I think I will keep you!” She declared.
She made that Raven croaking sound again then placed her full attention on the road, gradually pressing the gas pedal to the floor. The Six Pack open all the way up as the big blocked sucked down the gas. ” Hey, how did you know?” he asked her. ” I found out from a dream.” Morgan did not take her eyes off of the road. Michael sat back and enjoyed the ride while contemplating her answer. Lakeland was only a couple hours away, probably less he guessed glancing at the Speedometer. It was pegged at One Hundred Twenty and bouncing.
Riding, breathing in the muggy swampy night air, grooving on the rhythmic rumbling of the engine Michael began composing the song in his head. The verse had started earlier that afternoon. He had been inspired. When the verse hits you there was no holding it in it in or escape. Morgan tried to concentrate on driving. Michael had decided on making it difficult.
His finger tips tapped out a rhythm, light feathery touches played along her inner thigh. Now and again he would trace long curling designs from the back of her knee up along her leg till he would occasionally brush across her most sensitive place..
Morgan, biting her lip, was having difficulties. Glancing at Michael, he sat stone faced looking straight ahead, seemingly ignoring the chaos he was stirring. For his part, Michael could tell he was driving her nuts. Her occasional twitches, squirms, and non stop lip biting were tells. Hah! For once he had her losing it, at his mercy. How far could he push it? They had a couple of hours ahead of them. Michael intended to find out exactly how far.
CHAPTER 10
Morgans song:
DANCE OF THE DAMNED
( a love made in hell.)
She lends fire to the night
She is sins dark delight
She gives angels and demons their wings
Her smile is moon light
The last gasp of light
She is nights dark secret dream
She is dusk she is dawn
She is every words song
She is every pure thing in between
Shes the laughter in tears
The Courage in fear
She is the nights deep secret scream
She is Poetry's song
The right in the wrong
She is my dark evil Queen.
Twisting and turning Burning and learning. Trying so hard to deceive
Shes the perfect disguise for the monsters inside She is evil you cannot conceive
Is this love is it lust
Is it faith is it dust?
I love how she laughs as I bleed
The feel of her teeth,
Her pain is so sweet.
She is my dark evil queen
Her love is treason, Pure madness in season She is pure Evil unleashed
She lives to devour.
She Gives night it’s power.
She gives angels and Demons their wings
Still The moon in her eyes.
Cannot disguise
The hell of her agony
As we sit at her table,
An end to the fables.
I am The Source of her feast.
She takes hold of my hand, I’m hers to command
As she leads in the Dance of the Damned
Her unholy addiction. Her hearts affliction
We do whatever we please
I’m the edge of her knife The point and her strife Yes I am her favorite disease
We are death on the wing.
and hells favorite thing
We laugh and we dance as they scream
We’re the need to devour. The secret and power
hell feeds our hunger and need
While They twist and they turn
They writhe as they burn
We laugh and we dance and we feast
YES! She is my favorite disease
She’s My sweet affliction. My sacred addiction
As We dance in the ashes of dreams.
So hand in hand
A curse on the land
We lead in the Dance of the Damned.
We are the Dance of the Damned
************************** **************************
**************************
“Life is neither good nor evil, but only a place for good or evil”
Emperor Marcus Aurelius
**************
Morgan pulled in front of an older frame house, parking curbside directly in front of a side walk on the red brick street and walkway that led up to a broad old fashioned wrap around porch.
She got out, opened the trunk, retrieved the wooden box and walked up to the front door. Michael sat and watched her enjoying the view as she climbed the porch stairs.
Her hand on the door knob Morgan half turned around “Are you coming?” Then she flung open the door disappearing inside. Michael, clutching the Aluminum case followed after her.
The old Mahogany wooden floors shone like bright dried blood. Polished and waxed till the beautiful floor appeared to be covered in a thin sheet of glass. Michaels boot heels rang like hammer blows that echoed in the room.
Morgan was pouring drinks at the bar that divided the front room from the dining room. The six feet long bar was the only barrier in the large open room.
Michael was inspecting the red brick fireplace when an strange loud yowling erupted and a very large Gray tabby with an orange belly careened into the dining area sliding underneath the Dinning table as it scrambled to stop.
The cat then launched itself up onto Morgans shoulder. Morgan tilted her head to nuzzle the huge cat croaking in that odd way of hers. The cat yowled, seeming to talk to her while purring so loudly Michael could clearly hear it across the room.
Another red haired wonder appeared out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel as another , mirror image entered from the hallway the cat had erupted from. Morgan held up two whiskey glasses to them. All three turned to face me. Michaels mind blew fuses. Identical triplets. Had they not been wearing different clothing, he would not have been able to tell them apart. They even smelled the same. Which explained how Michael had not smelled any one other than Morgan. “Slainte!” They exclaimed in unison as they neatly tossed back the whiskey. Looking expectantly at Michael.
They were alike in every detail except for their clothes. Michael tried not to stare at them trying to process the idea of three Morgans. They all tilted their heads side to side in that crow like manner of Morgans.
“Ahhh He Looks Tasty!” The one from the kitchen said licking her lips. “How old is he” the other Morgan asked.
Michael stood there stunned and faced them. The Morgan that had brought Michael to this cool old Florida house answered, “New born! He is Mine!” The two new additions eyed Morgan with raised eyebrows. One each respectively. All three of them began to chatter amongst them selves. Sounding for all the world like a flock of angry crows. Michael listened closely but could not catch a single clear word.
As one they spoke, their identical voices intertwined as one. ” We are Morrigan. The great queen. Three in one, One in three, Queen of battle, mistress of fate, Lover of kings, maker of heroes” Michael hesitated but a moment before taking three steps and collapsing onto the sofa.. His mind echoed with their words. In his mind he heard a drum beat, with words chanted in that odd triune voice of Morrigan’s:
" We three queens. We rule the night
We three queens. burning bright
We Three Queens We are the night
We three queens. The Ravens flight.
Guard your heart and soul as well,
You have no hope within our spell
We are all that secrets tell
We are why the shadows fell
We are darkness, we are light
We are death and we are life
We are why the poet sings
Hear our words on ravens wings
Three in one, one in three
We are the night on ravens wings
Blinding flash of striking sword
Blood red foam at rivers ford
We are the rage of battles call
We are why the heroes fall
We are darkness We are light
We are death and we are life
We will fill the empty throne
Feast upon both flesh and bone
Three in one, one in three
We are the song of ravens wing
We three queens we rule the night
All you dream on ravens flight.”
The Trio laughed and curtsied.
Their words echoed in the room, the mid day light faded into a gloom as if storm clouds paused to hide the sun.
Michael shook his head trying to clear his mind. He felt as if he had just woken from a night of heavy lucid dreams. Did that just happen? What just happened? This was going to take a while to process.
The trio of Morgans had begun arguing amongst them selves. Occasionally Michaels name was mentioned. Abruptly the trio separated, one leaving through the kitchen door, the other disappearing down the hallway. Morgan poured two fingers of whiskey in a glass, studied Michael for a moment, then poured more. The whiskey glass was nearly full when she handed it to him as she sat beside of him. Michael took the glass, and gulped half of it down. ” Hold on tiger, pace yourself” Morgan chuckled as she slapped the sputtering Michael on the back. After his whiskey induced spasm passed, Morgan sat back and studied him over the top of her glass. ” I suppose I should have introduced you to my, ” she paused a moment, then finished ” Sisters.”
Michael looked at her, his confusion showing clearly on his face. “So ask away” Morgan prompted.
“What are y... How did you, or did you...” He said while gesturing towards the window, he extended the gesture and waved his hand towards the kitchen and hallway.
An accusing voice called from the kitchen ,” You have enthralled him deeply ” another came from the hall ,“You know you are going to fry his brain if you don’t release him!” The voice from the kitchen finished with ” If you break him we won’t be able to use him!” Morgan grimaced in response. ” I know, I know, I did nae mean to!”
Both voices exploded in outrage simultaneously ” You Slept with him? ” Echoed through the house. Morgan finished her whiskey and was in the midst of asking Michael if he wanted more as she got to her feet.
Morgans, ahem, ” Sisters” seemed to have appeared out of thin air in front of Morgan. The one wearing the flour encrusted apron shoved Morgan back down onto the sofa ” Oh no you don’t! You Will Fix Him Now!” They shouted at Morgan. ” I can’t. I dinnae know what happened but I did nae do this !” The apron was thrown at the kitchen door as they sat on the floor in front of Michael.
They focussed the entirety of their attention upon him, He began to sweat heavily and fought the urge to squirm or look away. Their intense scrutiny was palpable. All three cocked their heads as they closely examined him. The one on his left reached out holding her left hand close to Michaels chest. The one on the right mirrored the action using her right hand. They sat silently for a few minutes staring into each others eyes. ” Was he like this when you found him?” They queried. Morgan shook her head " yes and no. He was very angry, furious at me. He wanted to kill me, it radiated from him like a tidal wave crashing into me when he saw me. Then he flipped, changed, became.. " Morgan waved her arm at Michael, " this. "
Morgan explained. ” Evidently I turned him and left him in Tampa. I bit a lot of people there. I did not even remember him and I have no idea what happened with him until he found me in Ft Lauderdale.” Michael sat listening as the trio discussed him. It was very odd the way they started and finished each others sentences. It sounded like single person speaking out loud in an strange way.
They stopped talking and began croaking and cawing at each other sounding as if a flock of crows had flown into the room. Michael idly wondered out loud if they were going to change into birds. Stranger things had happened recently he thought. The trio stopped and turned to Michael ” What do you mean?” The trio asked, ” I was wondering if you were going to change into...what kind of bird were y’all imitating ?” Michael asked them.
They laughed and told him ” That is ridiculous! This is not an episode of Buffy or Angel! Sabrina and her talking cat are not real! ”
" Well I recently learned that Vampires were real so why not magick and shape shifters as well?” He replied.
" We are Not Vampires! Nor are there such things as lycanthropes nor abracadabra type magic. No leprechauns, no mermaids, no pixies either. We were born just as you were. Our bodies cannot produce red blood cells after the awakening, thus the thirst. Though we are for all intrinsic purposes damn near immortal. We are much more capable than the humans. But we can’t fly or change into animals either. ” ” Excuse me, duh! We drink blood, are sensitive to light, are essentially immortal exactly how is that not a vampire” exclaimed Michael. The Triune chorused response was ” Because vampires are not real and we are.”
“Ok then, what are you? I mean the three of you. Are you Clones or triplets or what?” Michael demanded.
In that odd chorus they answered ” Yes.”
" What? Are you clones?”
" Not exactly” the trinity got to their feet, lifted their shirts exposing their navels.
" Clones don’t have belly buttons ” they said while pointing at their navel.
" What are you then?” Michael asked. ” “We are Morrigan, didn’t you listen?” They replied.
“That tells me nothing at all” Michael replied. The one wearing a red sweater to michaels right answered ” I am Badb” the other one wearing a white button down shirt chimed in ” I am Macha” they pointed at Morgan, dressed in all black, “that is Nemain. We are Morrigan”
Michael belligerently asked ” Ok, What is a Morrigan then”
“We are!” They chorused.
“Is Morrigan your last name then?”
“We have never had a surname. Everyone knows who we are. ” they said sounding exasperated. “He is not very bright now is he? Is he broken?” Badb and Macha asked Nemain.
“I do nae think so, he certainly was nae last night! Everything was quite functional.”
Badb and Macha rolled their eyes at Nemain.
They began discussing what to do with him amongst them selves.
Michael sat quietly smiling, enjoying the view as they argued. ” This is not good” “You know what happened last time!” “I did not do this!” ” Then who did?“”I Do Nae Know!!” Nemain screamed throwing her empty glass into the fireplace. The broken pieces lay among the ashes glittering. Michael taking it all in was bemused, until he was no longer amused:
“What the everloving fuck do you mean by enthralled? What does that even mean? What do you mean use me? What the fuck!” Michaels voice rose in volume with each word, the last word causing the floor to vibrate. The sudden burst of anger was overwhelming and intoxicating. Michael stood up beginning to pace in circles glaring down at them. All three of them recoiled from him with unreadable looks upon their faces. The room filled with Pheromones as all four reacted to each other.
Boof! Boof! Boof!! Lound boofing barks rolled through the house. There was a sound like horses galloping , the floor trembling. Three huge Irish wolfhounds entered the room from the hallway, sliding like the cat on the polished floor, only, they knocked the table over and scattered the chairs in their scramble. “Cu Na Deane ! Dol Sios!” Rang out from the mysterious trio. The large hounds promptly dropped to the floor, laying down , watching Michael with an intense focus. ” I would nae raise my voice if I were you” Macha spoke to Michael.
Michael stood stock still eyeing the huge dogs with serious apprehension. He had never seen hounds that big. Moving slowly he retreated back to the sofa and sat down. The hounds dropped their heads onto the floor still eying Michael. Badb moved her right hand in a variety of positions without speaking a word. The white one with red ears nosed his way into the kitchen. The black hound padded to Badb and lay down next to her. The red hound remained on station watching Michael. The Morgans... Morrigan, uhh yeah what do you call three identical goddesses? Went back to talking among themselves. Michael could not discern who asked what, who answered whom, who said which. They spoke as if it were one single confused symphony each taking turns round about finishing sentences ,words, questions, answers. Macha would begin and then Badb would finish the sentence, then Nemain would begin and Macha would finish and round and round they went with a lilting accented rhythm. Michael could not make heads or tails out of the confusing cacophony. Questions and confusion reverberated in his mind.
“Who had enthralled him?” Being the central question closely followed by, ” just wtf does enthralled mean?” From the few bits and pieces, fragmented words, Michael began to form a picture.
There was not supposed to be any more of their people in the entire state of Florida. The trio had Tennessee, Florida, Georgia and Alabama as their territory. Their farming lands, the people their crops. Who has been traipsing through their lands uninvited and hidden?
Eventually they decided to drive back to Boca Raton following Nemains route in reverse. Maybe they would find some clue along the way. That was the consensus at least, until Michael chimed in with his two cents worth, telling them about hiding out in the campground down in the Thousand Islands. The trio locked eyes on each other in silence. Holding their three way staring contest for a full minute.
Nemain broke the silence. Her light Irish accent now gone replaced with a flat midwestern one. ” That settled that! We retrace Michaels journey. ” Badb interrupted ” I will back track to the Beach house” ” I will accompany Nemain and Michael.” Macha stated. The trio stood, as one heading into the hallway, ” be right back.” They chorused. Michael sat back waiting , idly rubbing the Cats ears as it lay purring beside him.
Badb ,Macha, and Nemain emerged from the hall talking amongst themselves. Michael recognized the language as Gaelic.
Badb continued on her way out through the kitchen, the sound of a screen door slamming announced her exit. Nemain with Macha in the lead headed out through the front door.
Nemain paused on the threshold, ” Coming? ”
Macha was impatiently waiting on the side walk, arms crossed on her chest. She opened the door gesturing for Michael to get in the back seat as Nemain got in on the drivers side. With a purring big block rumble they pulled away from the house. Looking back, Michael could see the black clad Badb pulling out of the alley way beside the house, turning and going in the opposite direction in her classic red Jeep, top off.
Michael felt worn out, he made himself comfortable on the big back seat. That is the great thing about these old Dodge muscle cars, plenty of room!
Relaxing to the sound of the big 440, and The low voices of Macha and Nemain, Michael pulled out his phone to surf the internet. He googled Morrigan, followed by their names. Nemain, a battle goddess, frenzy, spread terror on the battle field, Badb Badb Catha, also a battle goddess, the battle crow, spread confusion and fear on the battlefield.
Macha: Battle Goddess, Goddess of Sovereignty fertility, Horses and war...
Michael was beginning to sense a common theme.
Googling Morrigan confirmed it. Sighing Michael put away his phone. Nemain called back to him, ” Find anything interesting? ”
Macha turned to face him, her bright emerald eyes studying him. Michael looked away from her gaze. ” I have no clue. I looked up the Morrigan and... Terror, fear, confusion, fertility, crows, horses, kingship, fate, it seems impressive, I still don’t know what to make of it all. ” Macha nodded once and turned back around. They rumbled down I-75 south bound.
Michael drifted off to sleep. He quickly wished he had not. Within a scant moment of closing his eyes, nightmarish images flashed through his mind. He tried, but he could not wake back up nor clear those horror scenes away. Macha , Badb and Nemain , reigning over the aftermath on an ancient battlefield. The gorgeous trio weaving, sitting , Macha working a spinning wheel, Badb workin the carding brushes, Nemain standing before an upright loom, weaving the thread that flowed off of Machas spinning wheel. Details slowly coalesced. The stools Macha and Badb sat on , the spinning wheel, the carding brushes, the loom, were all built from what looked like human bones. The bones still glistening with fragments of tissue and undried blood. All three of them had blood smeared upon their faces, blood dripped from their hands. The giant wolfhounds trotted up, each dragging a body, still clad in tattered armor. Michael worked his way closer, maneuvering around the scattered fallen bodies.
He noticed what Badb was carding, it was human intestines, arteries and veins, Sinew and ligaments. That she worked, gathered from the stacked, eviscerated corpses surrounding her. Every now and again Badb would reach down into a torn torso, grasping a handful to prepare for Macha to spin and Nemain to weave. The gory thread dripped blood. As the wheel spun it slung drops of blood into the air where it formed clouds. Looking at the spinning wheel, Michael could see stars, planets, galaxies floating between the spokes of the wheel. All three of them were smiling, whistling and humming an old Irish jig as they worked. Other that a quick glance and a subtle Mona Lisa smile, not a word was spoken.
Michael turned away from the disturbing scene. He was struggling not to vomit. The stinking effluvium was thick, like a fog of visible stench in the air.
Michael walked , seeking an end or way out of this charnel covered field of death. Hordes of Crows hopped about pecking, cawing as they consumed the dead. Ravens too numerous to count circled and croaked, a feathered ebony cloud that hid the sun. All was a shadow cast gloom.
In the distance , Michael glimpsed something fast moving, It disappeared behind a low ridge, then reappeared cresting another hill, closer this time. Michael could see what it was that was fast approaching. A war chariot, with spikes and blades protruding from all surfaces, Scythes were fixed to the wheels. Heads were tied all around, the rim, The chariot was drawn by , at least thirteen giant fire breathing wolfhounds. Their feet never quite touched the ground, neither did the chariot.
Driving the chariot was a slight, freckled, strawberry blonde boy , preadolescent, not by much. Behind the boy stood a tall bearded man. He was dressed in bright chainmail, a close trimmed blonde beard could be seen beneath the crested, open faced helmet he wore. Bright sapphire flames flickering in his eyes and a long flame tongued spear in his left hand. The chariot circled, then stopped beside the Morrigans, The man stepped out of the chariot spear in his left hand. He drew a Celtic long sword from the sheath at his side, jostling the many human heads that dangled from his weapons harness. He was an nightmarish horror show in his own right. Fragments of organs and assorted tissues were spattered and caught on his armor. Blood dripped from his hands and flowed as if they were tears flowing down his face. Much as it did from the Morrigan. The armored figure turned towards Michael. Moving so quickly not even a blur registered, He cast that flame tongued spear at Michael.
It seemed as in slow motion when the spear left the figures hand. Michael tried desperately but could not convince his body to move. The spear struck dead center at the base of Michaels sternum, Michael could feel the flamberge blade of the spear move through his body to exit from his back. It had carried bits and pieces of Michaels insides with it. It felt as if lightning and fire spread out from the wound. It was as if Michael had been struck by lighting and his blood set on fire throughout his arteries and veins. Michael sank to his knees. He fell forward, the spear shaft held his torso upright. His head hung straight forward, chin touching his upper chest. Michael watched his blood running in rivulets down the spear shaft to pool on the gound. There was a flash of bitter cold across his neck, and then his head tumbled to the ground. Michaels eyes were open, he could see glimpses of the bearded man standing over his headless kneeling body. Michaels head rolled on the ground and stopped , he was looking back up at his body. A booted foot kicked Michaels body which lifted the bloodied spear shaft up from the ground. A hand grasped the shaft and a booted foot kicked Michaels body back while drawing the spear back out of the headless corpse with a meaty sucking sound. His body fell tolay on it’s side. That had become Michaels entire field of view. Things began to turn gray, then slowly faded into blackness.
With a shivering chill down his spine Michael jerked and sat up in the back seat. Macha was now driving, Nemain was turned in the passenger seat looking back at Michael. There was a concerned, curious look in her eyes. ” Have a nice nap? We are almost at the turn to head east on Alligator alley. What was the name of that Town again? Also, what is the exit we take.? ”
Michael rubbed at his eyes and face while lookin around to get his bearings. ” Get off at the Chokoloskee exit. Keep going south until you run out of road and you are there.
Macha laughed, “Chocolate lost key?”
“Chokoloskee. ” Michael replied spelling out the native American word. With a shake of her head, ” No sense of humor? ”
A few minutes later, they were slowing down, though still too fast for Michaels taste as they sped around the curving exit lane.
CHAPTER 11
The glass front doors of the Camp ground office were open. Something crumpled up on the threshold between them preventing the doors from closing. The doors slid open then back partially closed again. Macha gingerly stepped over the desiccated body. A glance had shown her that the victim had been drained dry. The blatant display did not bode well. There was definitely a fly in their collective ointment.
There were no RVs or sign of campers in the campground. Nemain had gone into the back office to see if the security cameras had caught anything. There was a monitor over turned on the small desk. No sign of the tower. Someone had taken the computer, with it, the security video. Nemain rummaged about, checking for pass words, names, web site info. She hit the jackpot finding the training manuals for new employees.
Macha Searched the log book. No one had checked in after Michael. She tore the page with Michaels info out , then changed her mind taking the entire log book. The Three wolfhounds ran to and fro stopping to pee then back to sniffing the ground, standing up on their back legs to peer into windows or over walls.
Michael had gone to check out the pool area. There were two more bodies in the shower room. Their throats had been brutally torn out. Blood was splattered all over the tile walls. Runic Designs were scrawled on the inside face of the door. Michael took pictures and video of the scene. Careful to touch nothing, he left the shower room. Pausing to wipe down the door handles and any surface he had touched. Uncle Sam did have his particulars from his hitch in the Army. No need to advertise his presence.
Returning to the office entrance Michael found Nemain and Macha tossing the ledger and manuals into the back seat. Macha climbed into the back. With the wolfhounds, Michael took shotgun without any words. With Nemain at the wheel, they left the campground. Nemain drove north to Alligator alley, retracing Michaels route. Macha kept her focus on Michael. He could feel her eyes trying to burn through the back of his head. ” Did you?” Macha asked. Michael turned to face her. ” No, that man and his family were alive when I left.” Macha grunted. Then began rapid fire texting. Michael assumed it was to Badb. Nemain turned on the radio and cranked it up loud. The Who blasted out,
" Who are you? Who who? Who are you? Tell me who the fuck are you?” Synchronicity. Sometimes the universe lets you know you are on track. On track for what is the question.
Michael contemplated the situation. What would have happened had he still been there at the campground when the carnage took place. Was someone looking for him? Nemain , seeing clear highway ahead, pressed the accelerator down. A steady pressure pressed Michael back into the seat.
Keeping a steady rate at high speed, they arrived in Ft Lauderdale just under two and a half hours Later. Badb had texted for them to meet up at Holiday park, by the playground.
Michael was feeling a bit antsy. He wanted to check up on his R.V. They pulled into the back parking lot at the old sears town, everything looked normal. Which was good He hoped.
No city of Ft Lauderdale or Broward county warning tags pasted on the bus, that was a good sign. They parked next to the converted school bus. Nemain and Macha looked it over with an sceptical eye. Their attitude changed upon stepping up into the R.V.
Nemain , nodding her head ” Well, this was unexpected! ” Macha ran her hand across the well crafted wood work. ” Very nice. Is this your work?” Michael , opening the hidden gun safe in the pantry wall, replied ” I held boards, did some sanding, helping as a child. This was all my grandfathers work.” Macha nodded in approval. Nemain quirked an eyebrow as Michael passed rifles to her. ” I was thinking these may come in handy.” Macha, taking an A.R. from Nemain, cleared the chamber, inspecting the well cared for immaculate rifle. Michael watched her , Macha knew her way around the rifle. Nemain was laying out the rest Michael had retrieved on the table while he gathered up loaded magazines.
" So, will bullets stop one of us?” Michael asked. ” It depends on where the bullet strikes” Nemain replied. “Yes, if it is a head shot, and it penetrated our skull, otherwise it would only anger us.” Macha finished. “That is good to know!” Michael stated as he sat down , having selected his Socom M1A, checking it over, clearing and working the bolt. Nemain had chosen the Thompson. ” watch it, the Tommy gun and the AR have binary triggers. ” Michael warned as Nemain inserted a 30 round magazine. ” Nice!” The pair chorused.
Michael gathered up a soft guitar case, leaving the guitar laying on his bed. Stashing his rifle and magazines in the case, he extended the case towards Nemain, ” Why advertise ” he asked. Smiling the ladies put their fire arms into the case. ” Maybe he isn’t so slow after all” Macha quiped.
Closing up the safe, and pantry, Michael followed them back out to the car. He dropped the case in the back seat, Macha declared “Shot gun” and Michael climbed in to the back. Morgan made a final trip into the camper, the trunk opened and closed. Morgan got behind the wheel once more. They were off to meet up with Badb.
As they pulled away, Michael exclaimed, ” Hey, what about Badb? Won’t she want one!” While he patted the guitar case. ” She has it covered already ” Nemain answered. They left the parking lot. Cruising Sunrise they drove past the park entrance. Turned around and headed back. They did this twice more before turning into the park. There was no sign of being followed. Of course, that meant nothing.
Badb was swinging on the swing set. As they parked, she let go on the high point of the swing, landing gracefully, took a bow, and walked over to the car. Badb shook her head no, touched her left eyebrow. Nemain looked to her right. There was no one in sight. Badb opened the passenger door just as Macha climbed over the front seat into the back. Without a word spoken, Nemain backed out and they headed for the back entrance to the park. Macha was trying to look everywhere at once. ” Where are they? Could you ID them?” Badb shook her head no. ” Where to?” Nemain asked. Back to the house in Lakeland.” Badb answered. ” The Boca place is gone.” ” “What?” Macha and Nemain chorused. ” “The House was burned. ” was Badbs reply. Nemain cursed with exquisite mastery. Michael listened closely, taking note. Nemain could teach old school army drill instructors a thing or three. How exactly could that be done with a porcupine? Nemain paused with her expletive laden tirade. ” With a lot of lube, perseverance and good gloves.” She replied. Michael realized he had spoken out loud. He looked up, he could see Nemain looking back at him in the rear view mirror. Michael could not stop himself, grinning he asked ” Isn’t the rabid squirrel enema a bit excessive?” Nemain blinked. Macha glared at him, Badb twisted about to scowl at him. Nemain began to chuckle, her laughter grew as Michael lost it, Macha and Badb began to giggle as well. The tension released. After a few minutes of shared hysteria, the three of them began chattering and cawing in their odd way.
The Three Wolfhounds bayed. Morgans hound snorted and licked Michaels face, sitting up between Morgan and his self.
Something was definitely wrong. Someone had invaded their cozy little garden. The realization that they had been under surveillance set this murder of Morrigans into a cold rage. Some one in hiding, not announcing presence or intention to visit could only have the worst intentions. Confirmed by the burning of the safe house. Michael could feel the temperature drop from their anger. The rear window began fogging over. He sat back and listened to their crow like conversation. When he focussed closely, he had begun to understand their speech. Closing his eyes and pretending to nap, Michael listened closely to what they said in their round and round round about way. Apparently someone is in for a very unpleasant visit once they caught up with them. Knitting with intestines, weaving with flesh, bathing in blood, the list extended with increasingly horrific inspirations. The glee with which the twisted trio conceived vengeance that would scare hell out of the devil himself was in itself oddly comforting and amusing.
CHAPTER 12
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" The more we value things out side of our control. The less control we have. ”
Emperor Marcus Aurelius
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They had taken I-95 north to the Southern Blvd/State road 80 exit. Driving west , towards Belle Glade. This time, rather than take the Turnpike north, Nemain had chosen the old Hwy 27 route. Up and Around the west side Lake Okeechobee.
No one was talkative. Each was wrapped in their separate thoughts. The miles passed away. In Belle Glade, they stopped for gas. Michael got out, checked the car over, popping the hood for the standard oil, water, fluids check. Macha pumped the gas standing at the rear of the car. Eyes scanning, senses on high alert.
Badb and Nemain went into the convenience store. Returning with bags full of snacks. Jerky and slim jims, Monster Irish cream coffee drinks, water bottles. The Gas clicked off, Macha put the nozzle away. Michael was cleaning the windshield. Nemain climbed into the back seat. Michael joined her. Badb kept shotgun, Macha slid behind the wheel. They had a long tedious drive ahead of them.
As soon as twilight passed, and the full dark of night took hold, Macha turned off the head lights. Their enhanced vision allowed them to see at night without need of light. Macha accelerated through the darkness. Blacked out, essentially invisible to all. A sense of urgency drove them. Badb was concerned that someone could have hit her place, like they had taken out Nemain’s house. The drive flowed along with nary a word spoken. Michael sat back and watched the shadows of Florida farm country flash by.
It seemed like he had been doing a lot of that lately. Sort of detached, watching things happen without any connection. As if he were watching someone else pretending to be him. Michael was not sure about anything anymore but he was beginning to suspect something was terribly wrong. Hadn’t Nemain said that everything would be enhanced, physically, as well as emotionally? Wasn’t he supposed to be feeling intense passions? She had observed that his laissez faire acceptance and calm demeanor was unusual? How come the only time he had seemed to actually feel emotion was in that dream he’d had about the Morrigan and that dude that cut off his head? Why did that not freak him out? Why did none of this insanity he found himself caught up in freak him out? Shouldn’t he be freaking? Was that what they had meant by enthralled? Who the hell did that? When? Come to think of it, why wasn’t he angry with Nemain? He had gone questing for answers and vengeance. Hadn’t he? Things to ponder while riding along to , where the hell were they going? Was that House in Lakeland Badb’s place?
Michael broke his reverie to ask Nemain, ” Where are we going? Back to lakeland?” “No, my place is outside Ocala.” Badb answered. “The place in Lakeland is all of ours.” Nemain continued. “I have a place in east Tennessee.” Macha finished. ” So, how long will we be gone? My 4x4 is still in that shopping center and my RV space is only safe up through the end of the week.”
Nemain turned to Michael, as did Badb. In their weird way they replied, ” Who ever burned my House” Nemain began, ” Knows you. Knows your vehicle. Knows you are with us.” Badb added, ” It wouldn’t be very smart to stick around what they know.” Nemain finished. Macha broke in ” We have contingencies prepared. No one except us should know of.” All three nodded in agreement. Michael let out a deep sigh, ” Damn I knew I should have grabbed my guitar!” ” The black Les Paul?” Nemain asked. Puzzled Michael answered ” Yeah” “Oh, I grabbed it on the way out, it’s in the trunk.” Nemain said with a slight smirk. Michael leaned over and kissed her, “Thank You!” ” Och! None of that now! No paddy fingers or cannoodling back there!” Badb and Macha bellowed. Michael laughed, “Did they just quote from ” The Quiet Man?” “And why not? It is a classic don’t you know now?” The three answered together. ” The Duke and Maureen O’Hara ” Macha exclaimed, “Errol Flynn and Maureen Ohara were hotter!” Badb and Nemain chorused. Thus began the back and forth discussion. Arguing in archaic dialects, languages, a confusing, chaotic polyglot. That seemed the default for the trio Michael decided.
Michael went back to considering his situation. Something was not right with him. What is it? “What did you mean by ” Enthralled? ” Michael interrupted the crazed cacophony. Silence ensued.
“Aye, there is that now isn’t there?” Nemain said softly her light brogue returning. If a voice could sound like a sword being drawn, that would be what it sounded like. Badb twisted about to stare intently at Michael.
Forget what he had been thinking just moments ago about being calm and detached. Michael felt the cold ice in his belly feeling of adrenaline. His mouth had gone instantly dry. Fear began to chase itself up and down his spine. His hands began to tremble. The tremble magnified into the shakes and spread untill all of his extremities were trembling and shaking. Badb was softy humming a tune, vaguely jig like. Nemain was, speaking? Singing? Chanting? Michael began to convulse.
Nemain wrapped her arms around Michael, stopping him from thrashing about. She nuzzled his neck, when her teeth broke his skin, Michael stopped thrashing and stiffened, all of his muscles locked. Only his hands trembled.
Nemain drank in Michaels essence, taking her time, relishing the feel of his body pulled close and tight to her. She was careful, even so it was hard not to drink deeply. Nemain was consumed by thirst, the burning need to devour. Badb had to pull her off of Michael to break the spell. Nemain snarled at Badb, madness dancing in her eyes. They stared into each others eyes , Badbs eyes reflecting the chaos raging in Nemain. Badb looked away, trembling, unable to hold the contact. Nemain turned back to her desires. Locking eyes with Michael, Nemain licked the fresh blood from her lips.
Macha, observing this all through the rear view mirror, slammed on the brakes sliding off to the side of the road. Michael sat frozen, eyes locked with Nemain’s. He no longer convulsed. Ghost flames formed, wrapping Nemain in faint blue and red flames. Flames that did not burn. Nemain began to tremble, then writhe in violent convulsions.
Macha leapt up out of the car, sliding across the trunk, to the passenger side. She jerked Badb out of the way, as she half climbed into the back to pull Nemain out of the car. Nemain, convulsing, began keening. An excruciating pitch and volume that grated like fingernails on a black board. Macha laid Nemain out in the roadside grass. Badb sat near by where she had collapsed when Macha had released her. Nemain slowly stopped convulsing to lay
gasping for breath. Michael remained as he was.
Badb, tried to stand, only to fall back to the ground. Sitting upright set the world spinning hither and yon. Macha knelt between, looking back and forth. Nemain was obviously incapable of talking, so she turned to Badb. “What happened?” The obvious question. Badb falling back in laughter, rolling back and forth was not what she expected. Though in truth, Macha had no idea what to expect. She stood , turned back towards the car and Michael.
Michael was still sitting silently. He was looking around, bewildered. His eyes met Machas and they widened in surprised recognition. Macha leaned in through the open passenger door. Michael recoiled, trying to back away. He fumbled his way about in a state of panic, to tumble out of the open drivers door and fall landing half in and half out of the car. His right leg caught, tangled in the front seat belt. He had freed himself by the time Macha had circled around the car. ” No, no you’re not going anywhere just yet!” Michael backed away from her. “What? Where am I? What the fuck is going on? How did I get here? Who the fuck are you?” Rapid fire definitive statements despite the phrased questions. Michael continued moving back towards the front of the car. His eyes locked upon Macha, studying everything else with his peripheral vision. He had no intention of giving anything away before he chose to act. Macha froze in place, spread her arms out to the side, she could see Michael struggling, gaining awareness, gathering himself together.
Badbs maniacal laughter drew his attention. Michael looked twards her. ” Is she oh..” Was all he could get out before Macha had closed the distance. When he looked back at her, having sensed her movement, she was there before him. With a lethal elegance, Macha was wrapping him in her arms. Michael struggled for a moment, then went limp. His eyes scanned back and forth from Badb to Macha.
“Twins?” He queried. “What is going on?” He had ceased struggling. Macha slowly released him, stepping back a pace. “What do you remember?” Macha asked him. ” You bit me!” He exclaimed and tried shaking his head to clear the confusion. Macha cocked her head. ” No, that was nae myself doing that now.” Hooking a thumb towards Nemain laying in the grass along side of the car.” That would have been her. ” Michael saw Nemain laying there breathing deeply, faint blue flames dancing over and on her.
Badb was now sitting up arms wrapped around her knees, rocking and laughing. Tears tracing their way down her face.
Head swiveling back and forth, taking it all in. Michael tried to process the Identical trinity. “What is wrong with them?” he finally asked.
“You are” Macha pointed at him as she answered him “What! Wait a minute here. ” Michael sputtered. “How did I?”
Badb, crawled on her hands and knees towards the car. Moonlight, caught in her eyes with silver flashes amongst the Emerald facets. Michael took notice of that vision. Somewhere near by, an alligator made it’s drawn out croaking grunt. Frogs sang, Insects played their tunes. The sweet chaos of the swamps night sang of predator and prey, life and death, narrow escapes. Cries of hunger, cries of lust, sighs of longing, barks of fear.
Michael had frozen in place. He could understand the night. He could taste the sweet chaos of life on the air. The scents of decay and flowers bursting with promise. It was soothingly pleasant.
Badb pulled herself up into the Coronet, crawling into the back to curl up on the back seat. Macha gathered up Nemain, awkwardly working her into the back seat next to Badb. Macha got in herself, slamming the door. “Are you coming with us? ” She asked Michael. He shook his head to clear it and looked around. There was not another vehicle around and not anywhere to go, he was surrounded by swamps, canals and large open fields. Michael plopped down into the passenger seat. ” I guess so...”
Macha started the engine. The glass pack rumble was reassuring. She guided the old muscle car back onto the road.
" Well, Hello! I am Macha, nice to meet you” she said, glancing over for a second or two. Michael studied her. As much as he could in the dark at any rate. “Uh, yeah. I am Michael, pleased to meet you.” ” You truly do not remember us?” ” How do I know you? You look vaguely familiar. You obviously know me. ”
Macha sighed heavily. “What do you remember of the last few days?” Michael contemplated the question. ” I remember you, or one of you, biting me. There were two huge shaggy dogs. You bit me and left me laying in the alleyway. After you left, this burning guy walked up to me. I remember looking into its eyes. It knelt down next to me, placed his hands upon my head, whispered something. It talked to me for awhile. I had no choice but to listen, wishing he would hurry and finish. Then I fed from it’s wrist. Nemains arm spasmed startling Badb. Michael finished the tale, telling how he was thrown against the wall, passed out, and what he did upon waking. Michael stumbled through his thoughts rebuilding coherent memories.
Macha took it in. Several possibilities presented themselves. ” Did you ever see a face? Was it male or female? Was it neuter?“she asked. Michael had no idea.
Macha decided they were not stopping in Ocala. They were going to get the hell out of Florida. Her cabin in east Tennessee was the new destination. It would be a long trip, taking only the surface roads, avoiding interstates and major highways. She calculated maybe a full days drive. Depending on how often she could speed it up.
CHAPTER 13
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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.
“So, Whats your first question?” ” 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, electrodynamics, 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.
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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 likes 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 effluvium 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 harass 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 withdrawl. 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 cryin 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 on 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.
CHAPTER 14
***************
We dance with the darkness
We flee from the light
Illusions we master
With whispers of night
Bleeding for answers
Cut from our pride
Midnights disasters
All broken inside
Answers in questions
Transformed like the ice
The worth of the treasure
Is the weight of it’s price.
*************
Macha breathed a sigh of relief when Michael opened his eyes and looked around. Moving to the passenger side, reaching over the front seat Macha touched Badb on the shoulder. “Badb, Wake up” she shook Badb a bit harder. Studying Badbs face intently, Macha nervously called out to Badb again. When her hand touched Badbs shoulder again her eyes sprang open, fixing on the recoiling Macha. Badb lunged, going across the seat back snarling, attacking Macha. There was a brief struggle. Macha gained the upper hand, holding Badbs arms until she relaxed..“What the fuck?!” Badb asked and exclaimed. She repeated herself. Looking about herself confused. Macha backed away, keeping a distance while Badb came completely back, and awake.
Michael had been squirming about, trying to get out of the back seat without letting go of Morgan/Nemain. There was no way to do it. Macha leaned down, peering in at him. ” You are going to have to let her go to get out.” Michael writhed about more. He could only get one leg partly out.
Macha leaned in trying to help, when her hands touched Nemain, a strong stinging charge leapt between them, Macha jumped back surprised.
Pacing about, Macha contemplated the predicament. The sound of horses in the barn , neighing, whinnies, blowing distracted her. ” Got it!” Macha ran into the log cabin styled barn, the sound of the horses joyously greeting her rolled out of the barn. Sharp cracks and thuds echoed off of the steep rock face the barn stood next to as the excited horses stamped and kicked demanding attention. Which they did not receive. Macha emerged with a saddle blanket and elbow length heavy leather gloves.
“Here, wrap this around her. I will try and hold her weight, you squirm out beneath her. Michael took the heavy wool blanket, wrapping around Nemain. Macha climbed into the passenger side. With much awkward maneuvering, he managed to climb out without breaking contact. Cradling Morgan in his arms Michael stood upright looking around. A two story log cabin with a wrap around porch. A matching log built barn.
Badb had made her way to the porch, she was hugging a tiny elderly woman. Macha was shaking the gloves off . ” Damn, does she shock you also?” She asked Michael. ” Only the first time I touched her” he answered climbing up the four wooden stairs. Badb and the old woman separated. “Dear Gods! What in tarnation is wrong with her? Is she hurt?” The tiny woman exclaimed with a heavy southern mountain folk accent. Macha stepped up beside them answering before Michael could. ” we don't exactly know.” Badb had already gone inside. The old woman couldn't be more than five feet tall. Macha and Michael dwarfed her. ” This is Elspeth, Ellie , this is Michael” Macha introduced him. She held the screen door open. Michael stepped inside. The smell of Fresh brewed coffee and bread baking greeted them in the house.
Macha gestured at the large sectional sofa in the center of the room. “Why don’t you two sit there.” As she walked away, disappearing into the kitchen apparently. Badb had sat down in a rocking chair by the fire place. A fire crackled and popped within. She leaned over holding her hands out over the flames. The East Tennessee mountains were pretty cold this time of year. Michael had not even noticed the cold, still wearing the T-shirt and BDUs from, was it the day before yesterday? He was not sure.
Macha emerged from the kitchen. “There's Coffee, water for tea, and hot cocoa. Anyone hungry?” Badb asked for tea. Michael for coffee. His stomach grumbled. “Yea, food would be great!”
Macha returned carrying a tray with three steaming mugs on it. A creamer and sugar bowl. She set the tray down on the table in the middle of the sofa pit. Badb bounced over the back of the sofa landing in a taylors seat legs crossed and folded. She leaned over and spooned in sugar cubes and a shot of cream into her tea cup and sat back stirring her tea, watching Michael sitting there on the sofa with Nemain draped around him in his lap. Both eyebrows slowly raised as she took in the sight. Michael was awkwardly trying to reach a coffee cup. Macha had returned to the kitchen. Ellie walked out, hung a cast iron tea pot on a swivel arm , swinging it in over the fire of the fire place. When she was going back towards the kitchen she spied Michaels attempt at coffee. She stopped and asked ” cream or sugar?”
" uh yes . no, black is fine thank you.” Amused at his nervous politeness Ellie passed him a cup. She turned and retreated back into the kitchen.
Michael sipped at the strong rich coffee. Nemain-Morgans nose twitched. Macha stepped back into the room, studied Michael a moment then returned with a small plate and two fresh warm biscuits that held an egg, slice of cheese with a thick piece of country ham. The other biscuit was nearly the same, only with loads of hickory smoked bacon. Michaels stomach rumbled. ” You are eventually going to have to put her down you know.” Macha said walking away. Ellie brought Badb a plate of biscuits and sausage gravy. She was like a little girl getting presents at Christmas as she gleefully stirred scrambled eggs into the gravy. Talking around a mouth full ” Shhus gray thay you Ellie” ” You're welcome sweetie” Ellie replied returning to the kitchen. Michael contemplated the biscuits. Same issue as the coffee. Badb seeing his issues laughed .” Shes right you know” she told him between bites. Michael tried laying Nemain down beside him. She would not release her grip on him. Shuffling about Michael finally got her situated sort of half in his lap and next to him. His right arm was free though. He could eat! Still a bit awkward but he did not care. He did not want to let her go either.
Ellie came back into the room, drying her hands on a dish towel. ” So, you won’t be needing the guest room will you?”
" Guess not.” Badb answered. Elspeth stood a few moments, a concerned look on her face. She studied Michael and Nemain. Shaking her head and turning back to the kitchen ” Well! I never would have thought! ” drifted into the room behind her.
Macha returned, she had taken a quick shower and changed. Michael did a slow double take. Macha was wearing a onesie , complete with footies and cat ears.
“I wouldn’t.” Badb warned before Michael said anything. ” Any Ideas? Has she shown any signs of waking?“ Macha asked getting comfortable. Michael shook his head no, his mouth full of biscuit and bacon. Swallowing ” You see it. She won’t let go. I cant seem to make myself either. When I fell asleep, with her, I saw this place, of flames. I called her name and could faintly hear her but I couldn’t see how to get to her. I couldn’t seem to tell where her voice came from.” Michael leaned back on the comfortable sofa. He maneuvered Nemain so that she was still in his lap, arm draped around his neck, her head on his shoulder. Badb and Macha began talking, going back and forth, finishing each others sentences, answers and questions. Michael tried to follow. He could not. They spoke so rapidly in that language of theirs that he only grasped a word here and there. He laid back, cradled Nemain and thought about that place with the flames. It quite seemed familiar.
“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 on 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 read from your blood.”
“What exactly are you talking about?” Macha interupted. 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 dd not need much at all, yet, it was difficult to stop. That itself was unusual. Macha prided herself on her control. Sitting back she studied Michael while she sorted through what she had seen.
Michael extended his arm, palm up towards Badb , closest to him, reached out, a flashing blur. In less than the blink of an eye she had drawn a knife and cut his arm. Blood welled out, Macha leaned close to catch some of it in the palm of her hand. The cut began closing. In moments his arm had healed.
Badb was sitting back, licking the blade of her knife. Eyes fixed upon Michael. Macha, raised her cupped palm to her mouth, and lapped the pooled blood up. She sat back, eyes fixed upon Michael just as Badb had.
There is knowledge in the blood. Memories that carried in the red cells. The Aos Sidhe merely appeared human. Each cell contains DNA, in a triple helix with three covalent bonds. Humans have two strands with only one repeating covalent bond. Human dna resembles a spiraling ladder. The fair folk dna however, like a three sided radio tower. Far more complex and unlike anything else on earth. The fair folk store memories encoded within the structure of their dna. With a taste of blood they may see those memories unfold in their minds as if, those experiences were their very own. Due to the complex genetic- crystalline structure and powerful electrodynamics, the Aos Sidhe are all entangled to some degree or other.
Macha let out a long shuddering breathe. Closed her eyes watching it all unfold. Searching through the three decades of Michaels existence. Centuries of experience had taught her how to organize and make sense of those memories she tasted.
Badb, her eyes unfocused, sorted her way through the memories. Lingering over the memories of war, his time in the army, and the morning of his rebirth. All of it unfolded before her minds eye.
" Llew! “The two of them chorused. Badb had an angry cast in her eyes. She threw her head back, rolling herself over the back of the sofa, landing on her feet. She began pacing in circles.
Macha hurled her empty coffee cup against the hearth to shatter on the stones. She cursed for a few minutes steadily. Michael was impressed, Macha did not repeat herself once.
Gradually they quieted down enough for Michael’s repeated question to get through.
“Who or what is Llew” “Dead!” Badb spat out still pacing. Macha spoke through gritted teeth. ” A disease! ” Michael tried to ask about what had happened to Morgan. Macha cut him off. ” The thing that ambushed you the morning you were born, that was him.” Michael thought about the thing made of flames. Macha continued ” He must have been tracking Nemain and stumbled on you.” “He enthralled you and used you to spy on her, on us.” Badb finished Machas statement.
" An enemy I take it. Ok, so, what happened to Her?” Michael gestured at Nemain with his head. Macha leaned forward, perching on the edge of the sofa. ” She is enthralled, imprisoned within her own self.”
" How did? ” Badb cut him off. “He implanted a suggestion, an order for you to execute, in your mind when he enthralled you. ” Macha continued “You were entranced, following his instructions until She broke through the spell unprepared for the traps Llew had placed. Now she is trapped in her own mind.Llew, through You in turn enthralled her.”m
" How the fuck? What the, I have no idea how to! How the hell did I?” Michael babbled, trying to grasp what they had told him. Macha stood , beginning to pace moving in opposite directions to Badb. They locked into mirroring patterns.
“How do I find this dude?” Michael asked. Moving to stand in front of him, Badb snapped, .” You don’t, we will!” ”Alright then How do I help her?” Michael asked. Macha cocked her head , “You said you heard a faint answer when you called her name. Maybe that’s all we can do. ”
Pacing, thinking, muttering to herself, Macha thought about it. Her body responds to Michaels. She lets him in. “Badb, would you go and touch Nemains forehead ? I need to know if she is feverish.” Badb stepped over and reached out for Nemain. When her hand got close, within inches, a visible spark struck her. ” Dammit Macha!” Badb danced back away from the sofa. Macha called out for Ellie. ” Ellie, could you help us please?” Elspeth crossed back into the room drying her hands on her apron.
" What do you need sweetie?” ” would you try and touch Nemains hand please?” Elspeth blinked, ” What?” ” just touch her.” Badb declared.
Elspeth leaned over the sofa back, reached out and tried to touch Nemain. ” Well Hell!” She yelped snatching her hand back. ” What happened?” Macha asked.
" She shocked me! It felt like electricity shocking me. ” “I’m sorry Ellie, we needed to know. ” Scowling Elspeth stalked back into the kitchen. The angry banging and rattling pots and pans drifted into the main room. Badb stopped pacing , and sat on the stairs watching it all.
“Apparently, you are the only one that can touch her.” Macha explained to Michael. “You enthralled and entrapped her.
You are entangled as well. You have to bring her back.“. Michael , looking down, eyes drawn to Nemain asked, ” How?”
“Why don’t you hypnotize him and tell him what to do?” Badb asked from the stairs. Macha thought about it a minute, ” That’s not a bad idea!” She exclaimed. Michael looking back and forth between them, “Whatever. Just tell me what to do.” Macha reached out and snatched the Dog tags and Celtic cross necklace Michael wore. She broke the thong it had hung on. She examined the dog tags closely. “Your Father as well. Good!” She noted. She unclasped the silver Celtic cross from the dog tags and tied it to the broken thong. “Ready?” She asked. Nodding assent Michael leaned back.
" Now, you need to focus on this charm, and the sound of my voice. Concentrate. ” She dangled the cross. Softly she talked to Michael. He focussed intently on the cross. After a few minutes Macha suddenly tapped him right between the eyes with her other hand. ” Sleep!”
Michael sat still, eyes unfocussed. Macha ordered Michael to sit back and relax. ” Can you understand me Michael? ” Yes” ” Good, now I need you to...” Macha explained how to match auras and synchronize spirits. Since Nemain had been the one to turn him, and they had fed each other, that should be easy. That was why Nemain had been entranced to begin with. They had entangled on a cellular When she had done exactly that with Michael, she had been wide open to it all. Now Michael could join her where she was trapped and bring her back. When she finished the instructions of how to help Nemain, Macha issued one last instruction to Michael. ” Return with Nemain or do not return at all. You must have her safe and intact in order for you to come back. Do you understand? ” “Yes I do” Michael answered. “Execute” she said. Michaels head lulled over resting against Nemains head. They looked like a couple that had fallen asleep cuddling. ” You best fix her boy. Or I will leave you trapped, alone, screaming into etenity.” Macha stated in a cold flat voice. She spared no shred of compassion for this unknowing tool of Lews. She stood and left them alone on the sofa. There was nothing more that she could do. Badb had watched it all from her perch on the stairs. She had nodded along in agreement with Machas threat. Macha stepped into the kitchen, after a moment Badb got up and joined her. Watching Nemains face , Badb thought she caught a faint fleeting smile. That was disturbing. Something would need to be done about Michael. What was to be done? Badb did not like things outside of her abilities. Michael, somehow, some why, was outside of her influence. There is something not quite right there. He has been entirely too self possessed and capable. Something is definitely unusual here.
CHAPTER 15
" It is not the flame that burns.
It is only you that learns,
No matter how you twist and turn,
It is only you that burns .
We dance with the darkness
We flee from the light
Illusions we master
With whispers of night
Bleeding for answers
Cut from our pride
Midnights disasters
All broken inside
Answers in questions
Transformed like the ice
The worth of the treasure
Is the weight of it’s price.
*************
Macha breathed a sigh of relief when Michael opened his eyes and looked around. Moving to the passenger side, reaching over the front seat Macha touched Badb on the shoulder. “Badb, Wake up” she shook Badb a bit harder. Studying Badbs face intently, Macha nervously called out to Badb again. When her hand touched Badbs shoulder again her eyes spang open, fixing on the recoiling Macha. Badb lunged, going across the seat back snarling, attacking Macha. There was a brief struggle. Macha gained the upper hand, holding Badbs arms until she relaxed..“What the fuck?!” Badb asked and exclaimed. She repeated herself. Looking about herself confused. Macha backed away, keeping a distance while Badb came completely back, and awake.
Michael had been squirming about, trying to get out of the back seat without letting go of Morgan/Nemain. There was no way to do it. Macha leaned down, peering in at him. ” You are going to have to let her go to get out.” Michael writhed about more. He could only get one leg partly out.
Macha leaned in trying to help, when her hands touched Nemain, a strong stinging charge leapt between them, Macha jumped back surprised.
Pacing about, Macha contemplated the predicament. The sound of horses in the barn , neighing, whinnies, blowing distracted her. ” Got it!” Macha ran into the log cabin styled barn, the sound of the horses joyously greeting her rolled out of the barn. Sharp cracks and thuds echoed off of the steep rock face the barn stood next to as the excited horses stamped and kicked demanding attention. Which they did not receive. Macha emerged with a saddle blanket and elbow length heavy leather gloves.
“Here, wrap this around her. I will try and hold her weight, you squirm out beneath her. Michael took the heavy wool blanket, wrapping around Nemain. Macha climbed into the passenger side. With much akward manuevering, he managed to climb out without breaking contact. Cradling Morgan in his arms Michael stood upright looking around. A two story log cabin with a wrap around porch. A matching log built barn.
Badb had made her way to the porch, she was hugging a tiny elderly woman. Macha was shaking the gloves off . ” Damn, does she shock you also?” She asked Michael. ” Only the first time I touched her” he answered climbing up the four wooden stairs. Badb and the old woman separated. “Dear Gods! What in tarnation is wrong with her? Is she hurt?” The tiny woman exclaimed with a heavy southern mountain folk accent. Macha stepped up beside them answering before Michael could. ” we dont exactly know.” Badb had already gone inside. The old woman couldnt be more than five feet tall. Macha and Michael dwarfed her. ” This is Elspeth, Ellie , this is Michael” Macha introduced him. She held the screen door open. Michael stepped inside. The smell of Fresh brewed coffee and bread baking greeted them in the house.
Macha gestured at the large sectional sofa in the center of the room. “Why don’t you two sit there.” As she walked away, disappearing into the kitchen apparently. Badb had sat down in a rocking chair by the fire place. A fire crackled and popped within. She leaned over holding her hands out over the flames. The East Tennessee mountains were pretty cold this time of year. Michael had not even noticed the cold, still wearing the T-shirt and BDUs from, was it the day before yesterday? He was not sure.
Macha emerged from the kitchen. “Theres Coffee, water for tea, and hot cocoa. Anyone hungry?” Badb asked for tea. Michael for coffee. His stomach grumbled. “Yea, food would be great!”
Macha returned carrying a tray with three steaming mugs on it. A creamer and sugar bowl. She set the tray down on the table in the middle of the sofa pit. Badb bounced over the back of the sofa landing in a taylors seat legs crossed and folded. She leaned over and spooned in sugar cubes and a shot of cream into her tea cup and sat back stirring her tea, watching Michael sitting there on the sofa with Nemain draped around him in his lap. Both eyebrows slowly raised as she took in the sight. Michael was akwardly trying to reach a coffee cup. Macha had returned to the kitchen. Ellie walked out, hung a cast iron tea pot on a swivel arm , swinging it in over the fire of the fire place. When she was going back towards the kitchen she spied Michaels attempt at coffee. She stopped and asked ” cream or sugar?”
" uh yes . no, black is fine thank you.” Amused at his nervous politeness Ellie passed him a cup. She turned and retreated back into the kitchen.
Michael sipped at the strong rich coffee. Nemain-Morgans nose twitched. Macha stepped back into the room, studied Michael a moment then returned with a small plate and two fresh warm biscuits that held an egg, slice of cheese with a thick piece of country ham. The other biscuit was nearly the same, only with loads of hickory smoked bacon. Michaels stomach rumbled. ” You are eventually going to have to put her down you know.” Macha said walking away. Ellie brought Badb a plate of biscuits and sausage gravy. She was like a little girl getting presents at chrismas as she gleefully stirred scrambled eggs into the gravy. Talking around a mouth full ” Shhus gray thay you Ellie” ” You're welcome sweetie” Ellie replied returning to the kitchen. Michael contemplated the biscuits. Same issue as the coffee. Badb seeing his issues laughed .” Shes right you know” she told him between bites. Michael tried laying Nemain down beside him. She would not release her grip on him. Shuffling about Michael finally got her situated sort of half in his lap and next to him. His right arm was free though. He could eat! Still a bit awkward but he did not care. He did not want to let her go either.
Ellie came back into the room, drying her hands on a dish towel. ” So, you won’t be needing the guest room will you?”
" Guess not.” Badb answered. Elspeth stood a few moments, a concerned look on her face. She studied Michael and Nemain. Shaking her head and turning back to the kitchen ” Well! I never would have thought! ” drifted into the room behind her.
Macha returned, she had taken a quick shower and changed. Michael did a slow double take. Macha was wearing a onesie , complete with footies and cat ears.
“I wouldn’t.” Badb warned before Michael said anything. ” Any Ideas? Has she shown any signs of waking?“Macha asked getting comfortable. Michael shook his head no, his mouth full of biscuit and bacon. Swallowing ” You see it. She won’t let go. I cant seem to make myself either. When I fell asleep, with her, I saw this place, of flames. I called her name and could faintly hear her but I couldn’t see how to get to her. I couldn’t seem to tell where her voice came from.” Michael leaned back on the comfortable sofa. He maneuvered Nemain so that she was still in his lap, arm draped around his neck, her head on his shoulder. Badb and Macha began talking, going back and forth, finishing each others sentences, answers and questions. Michael tried to follow. He could not. They spoke so rapidly in that language of theirs that he only grasped a word here and there. He laid back, cradled Nemain and thought about that place with the flames. It quite seemed familiar.
“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 on 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 read from your blood.”
“What exactly are you talking about?” Macha interupted. 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 dd not need much at all, yet, it was difficult to stop. That itself was unusual. Macha prided herself on her control. Sitting back she studied Michael while she sorted through what she had seen.
Michael extended his arm, palm up towards Badb , closest to him, reached out, a flashing blur. In less than the blink of an eye she had drawn a knife and cut his arm. Blood welled out, Macha leaned close to catch some of it in the palm of her hand. The cut began closing. In moments his arm had healed.
Badb was sitting back, licking the blade of her knife. Eyes fixed upon Michael. Macha, raised her cupped palm to her mouth, and lapped the pooled blood up. She sat back, eyes fixed upon Michael just as Badb had.
There is knowledge in the blood. Memories that carried in the red cells. The Aos Sidhe merely appeared human. Each cell contains DNA, in a triple helix with three covalent bonds. Humans have two strands with only one repeating covalent bond. Human dna resembles a spiraling ladder. The fair folk dna however, like a three sided radio tower. Far more complex and unlike anything else on earth. The fair folk store memories encoded within the structure of their dna. With a taste of blood they may see those memories unfold in their minds as if, those experiences were their very own. Due to the complex genetic- crystalline structure and powerful electrodynamics, the Aos Sidhe are all entangled to some degree or other.
Macha let out a long shuddering breathe. Closed her eyes watching it all unfold. Searching through the three decades of Michaels existence. Centuries of experience had taught her how to organize and make sense of those memories she tasted.
Badb, her eyes unfocused, sorted her way through the memories. Lingering over the memories of war, his time in the army, and the morning of his rebirth. All of it unfolded before her minds eye.
" Llew! “The two of them chorused. Badb had an angry cast in her eyes. She threw her head back, rolling herself over the back of the sofa, landing on her feet. She began pacing in circles.
Macha hurled her empty coffee cup against the hearth to shatter on the stones. She cursed for a few minutes steadily. Michael was impressed, Macha did not repeat herself once.
Gradually they quieted down enough for Michael’s repeated question to get through.
“Who or what is Llew” “Dead!” Badb spat out still pacing. Macha spoke through gritted teeth. ” A disease! ” Michael tried to ask about what had happened to Morgan. Macha cut him off. ” The thing that ambushed you the morning you were born, that was him.” Michael thought about the thing made of flames. Macha continued ” He must have been tracking Nemain and stumbled on you.” “He enthralled you and used you to spy on her, on us.” Badb finished Machas statement.
" An enemy I take it. Ok, so, what happened to Her?” Michael gestured at Nemain with his head. Macha leaned forward, perching on the edge of the sofa. ” She is enthralled, imprisoned within her own self.”
" How did? ” Badb cut him off. “He implanted a suggestion, an order for you to execute, in your mind when he enthralled you. ” Macha continued “You were entranced, following his instructions until She broke through the spell unprepared for the traps Llew had placed. Now she is trapped in her own mind.Llew, through You in turn enthralled her.”m
" How the fuck? What the, I have no idea how to! How the hell did I?” Michael babbled, trying to grasp what they had told him. Macha stood , beginning to pace moving in opposite directions to Badb. They locked into mirroring patterns.
“How do I find this dude?” Michael asked. Moving to stand in front of him, Badb snapped, .” You don’t, we will!” Ii”Alright then How do I help her?” Michael asked. Macha cocked her head , “You said you heard a faint answer when you called her name. Maybe that’s all we can do. ”
Pacing, thinking, muttering to herself, Macha thought about it. Her body responds to Michaels. She lets him in. “Badb, would you go and touch Nemains forehead ? I need to know if she is feverish.” Badb stepped over and reached out for Nemain. When her hand got close, within inches, a visible spark struck her. ” Dammit Macha!” Badb danced back away from the sofa. Macha called out for Ellie. ” Ellie, could you help us please?” Elspeth crossed back into the room drying her hands on her apron.
" What do you need sweetie?” ” would you try and touch Nemains hand please?” Elspeth blinked, ” What?” ” just touch her.” Badb declared.
Elspeth leaned over the sofa back, reached out and tried to touch Nemain. ” Well Hell!” She yelped snatching her hand back. ” What happened?” Macha asked.
" She shocked me! It felt like electricity shocking me. ” “I’m sorry Ellie, we needed to know. ” Scowling Elspeth stalked back into the kitchen. The angry banging and rattling pots and pans drifted into the main room. Badb stopped pacing , and sat on the stairs watching it all.
“Apparently, you are the only one that can touch her.” Macha explained to Michael. “You enthralled and entrapped her.
You are entangled as well. You have to bring her back.“. Michael , looking down, eyes drawn to Nemain asked, ” How?”
“Why don’t you hypnotize him and tell him what to do?” Badb asked from the stairs. Macha thought about it a minute, ” That’s not a bad idea!” She exclaimed. Michael looking back and forth between them, “Whatever. Just tell me what to do.” Macha reached out and snatched the Dog tags and Celtic cross necklace Michael wore. She broke the thong it had hung on. She examined the dogtags closely. “Your Father as well. Good!” She noted. She unclasped the silver Celtic cross from the dog tags and tied it to the broken thong. “Ready?” She asked. Nodding assent Michael leaned back.
" Now, you need to focus on this charm, and the sound of my voice. Concentrate. ” She dangled the cross. Softly she talked to Michael. He focussed intently on the cross. After a few minutes Macha suddenly tapped him right between the eyes with her other hand. ” Sleep!”
Michael sat still, eyes unfocussed. Macha ordered Michael to sit back and relax. ” Can you understand me Michael? ” Yes” ” Good, now I need you to...” Macha explained how to match auras and synchronize spirits. Since Nemain had been the one to turn him, and they had fed each other, that should be easy. That was why Nemain had been entranced to begin with. They had entangled on a cellular When she had done exactly that with Michael, she had been wide open to it all. Now Michael could join her where she was trapped and bring her back. When she finished the instructions of how to help Nemain, Macha issued one last instruction to Michael. ” Return with Nemain or do not return at all. You must have her safe and intact in order for you to come back. Do you understand? ” “Yes I do” Michael answered. “Execute” she said. Michaels head lulled over resting against Nemains head. They looked like a couple that had fallen asleep cuddling. ” You best fix her boy. Or I will leave you trapped, alone, screaming into etenity.” Macha stated in a cold flat voice. She spared no shred of compassion for this unknowing tool of Lews. She stood and left them alone on the sofa. There was nothing more that she could do. Badb had watched it all from her perch on the stairs. She had nodded along in agreement with Machas threat. Macha stepped into the kitchen, after a moment Badb got up and joined her. Watching Nemains face , Badb thought she caught a faint fleeting smile. That was disturbing. Something would need to be done about Michael. What was to be done? Badb did not like things outside of her abilities. Michael, somehow, some why, was outside of her influence. There is something not quite right there. He has been entirely too self possessed and capable. Something is definitely unusual here.
Darkness faded. Can darkness fade? It is already dark so, how could one tell? Can darkness still fade? Evidently there are various degrees of the dark. Michael drifted in the blackness. Alone, surrounded in silence. He wondered if his eyes were actually open. It was a black that swallowed light. How would he even know? On a whim, he poked a finger at his face. Yes, his eyes were in fact open! Open and now watering in pain where he had just poked himself.
While his mind played inane tricks on him. His senses activated his instincts. Instincts that had no reference to respond to. No light, no up or down, only a pure blackness that could be felt if not seen. Every single natural instinct screaming danger, threat, must fight or flee. Find cover, seek ambush site, the check list continued. The fight or flight instincts were in complete chaos. No direction, no point of reference, no up no down, no anything to respond to or place to flee. In time in space, no idea the where or when, the darkness was fading into the gray of dawn. When darkness fades it turns to light.
The light came from everywhere. There was no up, no down, no shadows, no directions. Apparently, pure light was as helpful and oppressive as pure darkness.
Michael was feeling a sense of urgency. The clock is ticking he reminded himself. Is there even time here in this place? If there is no up, no down, no directions there can be no motion. If there is nowhere to go how can one move? Michael drifted with his eyes closed. An eternity of eternities passed. What is eternity when time is an subjective experience. Relative as well as arbitrary. In a place where chaos is the rule, time is, confusing, in a place of no definition does time exist? Is a second an hour a moment a year and a minute eternity? For one observer, a mere moment, a second has passed, for the other, days, months, years. That is the most difficult part of navigating the other world. Figuring out what frame of reference, what perception of time your target is. In a realm where thoughts, intent, memories create reality, are reality. Does anything matter if everything is or can be? Does everything matter? All thoughts, reasoning, arguments within his mind. Michael desperately needed a frame of reference, a thing to anchor his perception of time and space. Wracking his mind for something to believe in. Something independent of his self perception.
He faintly remembered there was something important he had to do. A place he needed to be. Someone he had to find.
Names passed randomly passed through his thoughts. Two names were constantly swirling through his mind, Morgan and Nemain. Round and round until. There was only one name, only one MORGAN.
Michael remembered. He called her name out as loud as he could, “Morgan!” Twisting about, psychological and emotional connections are obvious. The physical union is also obvious. When blood is shared, an entanglement occurs. Repeated sharing of blood and body fluids, enhances the process. On a molecular level a mingling occurs that triggers deeper changes. The Atomic bonds are altered, entire molecules are entangled. This process is mirrored in the lover. On a quantum level a permanent entanglement is created, an entanglement that grows with each act of physical union. Sharing blood and sex bind two together across space and time. What happens to one is mirrored in the other, regardless of the distance or time between. Even separated by the full expanse of the galaxy as well as across time, experience is shared instantaneously. In short, two become entangled. Truly spooky action at a distance. Einstein and Podolsky and Rosen were apparently right after all.
An eternity of eternity's passes, the infinite possibilities collapse into probability, becomes reality. Desires and memories merge into a shadow. The shadow casts reality into being. The chaos of darkness births light. In turn the light casts shadows. Round and round it goes. Michael laughs, an earworm plays in his mind, Dio singing about a carousel, it’s heaven and hell.
Light was fading. Shadows formed becoming solid. Michael cried out fanatically “MORGAN!” An eternity of eternities passed.
In a distant year. A mist formed in answer. A mist formed of tiny sparks of fire rather than a vapor of water. A fine cloud of flames rising. Direction had manifest.
“Michael?” A distant voice queried. “Yes” He answered, trying the simple and obvious approach. ” Here! Morgan over here!” Wherever, whenever, whatever here was.
He focused all of his heart, his mind, his soul into finding her. ” Michael” Rang out from nearby. He turned his head locating the direction it had come from. He drifted towards a hazy smudge of nothing. The haze growing. Expanding in all directions it seemed. Michael drifted towards it.
Directly in front of him, a darkness vaguely formed on the hazy smudge. The black shape grew , getting larger. Michael began to see details of the smudge. The swirling cloud like shapes that looked like fog flowing low near the ground.
The cloud reached him at last. It was a cool wet cloud. Michael only had enough time to realize the hazy black shape was his shadow. That he had been falling all along when he came to a sudden and thorough stop. The impact was tremendous, knocking Michael unconscious. It is not the fall that hurts, it is that sudden stop at the end. Michael lay face down, arms and legs splayed out. Every bone broken.
He was aware that he was dreaming. He remembered the sudden blow from inside the cloud. Michael was wide awake in a dream, where he was unconscious in another dream, which was a dream induced by a trance to dwell in another's dream. Michael ran through that sequence several times. A dream within a dream within a dream within a trance. Michael did not know what to make of that. What he did know was that he had a body he could feel and move. A body which could feel something solid that he stood upon. He could interact with his surroundings. Michael began to call out her name, alternating her names. The name he first knew her by was “Morgan!”
“Here,over here” responded a voice. Turning to face the direction the voice came from. He called out again. Again he was answered. Michael walked towards the voice.
A hazy form began to take shape. Apparently moving towards him. Michael walked a few more moments and there she was! They had found each other! Morgan grasped Michaels hand. “I know I am dreaming, glad I am you are here.” Michael took her other hand in his. ” I am dreaming as well. ” A moment passed as they gazed at each other. Michael swept her up into his arms. ” Put Me Down!” Morgan demanded. Michael spun around holding Morgan in a bear hug. It had been an eternity since he had seen or heard anyone else. It had been an eternity alone and longing for something to simply touch. He was clutching her as if he would absorb her.
“I think I fell for a century, for years? I don’t know.” Morgan relaxed, hugging Michael back. “It feels like years have passed. I know you are a dream. ” No, I am real, see!” Michael kissed her. Morgan stiffend up a moment, then relaxed, kissing Michael back. The kiss deepened, morphing into a frenzy. They began tearing at each others clothes. Desperate, in need. They fell to the ground entwined, entangled through their passion, their desire, working the forge of passion hammering out the form of love.
Their passion turned into a furious blood lust. The hunger consumed them. Michael bit into Morgans neck , tasting her, lapping up her essence. Morgan bit deeply into Michaels chest. They fed from each other. Reveling in the rage of their thirst and the lust each for the other. Feasting in a frenzy of hunger. When two hurricanes meet on the seas, they orbit each other feeding off of each other. Growing stronger, slowly merging into a new thing. A super storm. The mists boiled around them, twisting, changing, becoming flames. Flames that burned cold. Entwined, they fed on each other. Entangled, they moved together, She enveloped him as he pierced her. Their blood flowed freely. Mingling and staining the flames. An eternity passed. Their teeth withdrew. A calmness settled over them. A new thing had been born. Michael held Morgan close, with all of his strength. Morgan nuzzled as closly as she could, soaking in his essence, revelling in his embrace.
The flames danced , growing, changing, morphing into writhing shadows. The shadows grew until all was black. Michael held Morgan close through the darkness. The void did not phase them They had each other. They drifted on eternities currents, dreaming together, heart, mind, body and soul entangled.
Drawing back from his chest, Morgan heard voices. “Nemain come home” her sisters called to her. She had not heard another voice for an eternity until Michael had manifest. With the awareness of the call, they began to fall. The black fading into gray, fading into...
Morgan sat up eyes open. Looking around it took a few moments to comprehend where she was. Michael sat up next to her. Badb bounded down the stairs while Macha emerged from the kitchen. They had felt it when Morgans consciousness had returned. Their link once more established. The three of them began talking in that peculiar way of theirs.
Michael sat back wishing his brain did not feel like it were stuffed with barbed wire and cotton candy. The Morrigna restored to their trinity, radiated a powerful aura, tinged with rage and relief.
Elspeth emerged from the kitchen. She carried a tray with an old fashioned clay jug and four whiskey glasses. She placed the tray on the coffee table. Then hands on hips, she glared at Morgan ” Why is it always you that worries me to death? The way you carry on! seriously?! " Ellie!” Morgan yelped. Leaping over the table to snatch her up in a bear hug. Elspeth, kicking and fists hammering on Morgan demanded. “Put me down right this instant!” Morgan gently set her back on her feet. " Really now! " Elspeth stalked away straightening her dress and apron complaining “No sense! No sense at all! Damn fool girl doesn’t have a lick of sense at all! Always tormenting me...” as she marched back into the kitchen.
Macha had pulled the cork from the jug and was pouring a clear liquid into the glasses. Double shots for each of them. Every one took a glass, Michael whiffed it. It smelled muc like rubbing alcohol. Badb grinned at him ” Poitin, Slainte!” Then she slammed the entire portion. They all followed suit. The Poitin hit his stomach like a small fire bomb. A warmth spread from his center. His question of ”Is Poteen Irish paint thinner or Bootleg vodka?” was met by outrage. ” Fine Irish pot liquor it is! ” “The Irish invented potato liquor don't you know?” “Vodka my arse!” The three of them were smiling. Michael had to laugh. As the booze was felt, Michael began to relax. Three days no sleep? Three? Four? He realized that he did not even know what day it was. They had left Boca saturday morning? Friday morning? He was not sure. Today was either Tuesday or Wednesday. ” Anybody know what day it is?” Three hands reached for three cel phones. Wednesday, was the consensus. Amazing how the world can be turned inside out in under a week. Macha poured Michael another shot. After the week he’d had, he was going to get drunk and sit back for a bit. There were many many things to sort through and wrap his head around.
Morgan Macha and Badb agreed with him, Badb poured another round, filling the glasses right up to the rim. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough for serious issues. This evening was for drunken relief.
Badb had accepted Michael. Macha remained a bit aloof. Watching the whole Nemain and Michael thing with concern. The last time, some twenty five or thirty centuries back. There had been Nemains little foray into love and marriage. That had lead directly to wars, regicide slaughter and near genocide.
From that taste of his blood, and the, insight it had given her, she learned that Michael was a much harder man than she had presumed. The apparent passivity he had shown had been a ruse while he studied as if he were doing a reconnaissance, a thing he had specialized in, long range reconnaissance surveillance and patrol. She had really wondered at Morgans attraction to him, until that is, she had seen his time in war. A Ranger, a team leader. A warrior. He had been deployed virtually the entire six years after he had finished training. The battle field had been his home. The calm demeanor he had shown testified to his strength. His whole, bored ” been there done that,“ demeanor in crisis was not an affectation.
" Did you bring in the things from the trunk?” “Nae, didn’t think about it till you asked” was Machas reply. “Be right back” Morgan went out the front door. The sound of the trunk closing was quickly followed by Morgan’s “Someone, door?” Macha and Badb turned and looked expectedly at Michael “What?” Michael asked. The duality turned to look pointedly at Morgan struggling to get through the door.
Michael drunkenly caught on and went to open the door for Morgan. She rolled her eyes at him as he fumbled reaching for things. She shooed him away.
She had brought his guitar along with the two boxes from the trunk. Draped over her shoulder was his longsword and baldric.
She had seen it when she picked up the Les Paul. It had only seemed natural take it. Michael took the guitar and sword from her as she paused by the sofa. Smiling he reverently laid the Guitar down with the sword beside it on the sofa. Badb leaned out to get a better look at the sword. Noting with approval that he had placed the well worn hilt close to hand. “D’ya know how to use it?” ” A little bit. ” he replied. Macha snorted at his answer. Badb gave out a definitive ” Oh we’ll see!”
Morgan turned her attention to the carved wooden case and ornate silver box on the table. “There it is.” Morgan said sitting beside Michael. Gesturing at the table. Macha and Badb eyebrows raised, were looking at Morgan.“What? You look like bookends! What? Out with it!” Morgan snapped, more than a little annoyed. She had a feeling that she already knew what was coming.
Taking a deep breath, Macha asked, ” How long has it been? Remember what happened last time?” Morgan merely raised an eyebrow. Badb continued ” War, the death of our friends, your husbands betrayal, pointless genocide, you in a frenzy for near a millennia. It was a good time. Paid for by our beloved.” " There aint no such thing as a free lunch is there now? "Morgan growled, then breathed deep and long.
Michael felt her get very warm. She was faintly trembling. A frenzy threatened. ” Och! That was Three thousand years ago! Will you never stop reminding me? Damn it all, not like You haven’t Macha. Remember your Third husband? Badb remember you and your vendetta on Rome? The reasons why?” Exasperated, Morgan slammed her drink and moved. She started to stand up and changed her mind. Leaping up and over the back of the sofa.
Stamping her feet as she stalked over to the fire place. Yes! Yes she was being petty. Making sure each step left it’s mark in the wooden floor. “Besides, you must understand. while I was lost in the other world, I spent years with him, alone. I have relived his memories repeatedly. He has shared mine. The thought of him was my only anchor, in sea of fire. He came for me. ” Turning around to face them. Tears glistening in her eyes, ” He is the only one! The only one that has ever come for me!” Macha and Badb sat motionless, in a state of shock. This was a Nemain that they had never known. Badb broke the awkward moment, ” What have you done to Nemain?” Neither Michael nor Morgan was sure who Badb had asked. The trio began their three way cacophony anew with a growing frenzy fueled by the alcohol and stress.
Michael, listened. His mind played things he “remembered” of Morgan. He had fragments, bits and pieces of memories in a confused chaos. There were Morgans memories as well as memories of their time in the fires. He was suddenly nervous. The few hours he had spent in that the place had been timeless and had seemed forever. Decades, a life lived, shared. The thought of Morgan had been his only thing. His only anchor. By her name alone he had kept his sanity. The thought of her had been the only real thing in that timeless eternity of eternities.
The lines of one of the songs he had written ran through his mind. Without intending to, he recited them out loud as they flowed across his consciousness. The words seized control, true poetry is magick, a well crafted spell, possession by and of the Awen. Michael stood, turned to face Morgan. The trio, ensorcelled, were silenced, listening.
“She set fire to night
danced in it’s light
till yesterday’s ashes were cold.
Shes the ravens delight The soul of the night
She is lightning to wake up my soul
So I gave her my heart
The dark broken parts
With the flames that she set in my soul
She’s My need to devour
My thirst and the power, she's my hunger that’s out of control.
She Lit up my eyes,
Blew my disguise
A burning desire so cold.
She poured me a drink
Bought time to just think
As she stared right through my soul
Her gaze was alight
With thunder and fire
A tale full of powers untold
Her smile is insane
Like a razor to vein
She is lightning to ignite my soul
She’s the Ravens delight
The spark in the night
A thirst for darkness and souls
Set fire to the night
To dance in the light
Till yesterdays ash is ice cold
The dance of the damned
The darkness demands
Till time and the ashes are cold
Is it love is it lust
Is it fire or dust
These things I can’t understand,
Is this dark? Is this light?
Is this evils respite?
Reborn in this dance of the damned...
So I showed her my heart,
The dark empty parts
My thirst and the hunger within
She swallowed my night
Gave wings to my flight
Stoking my fires of sin.
We made sacrifice right,
Made love through the night
for the promise of morning and pain
Love is a warning
Life is a game
This rhyme holds the reason
My dream is her name,
She swallowed my night
Gave wings to my flight
She stole all the stains of my sin.
Is this love? Is this lust?
Is this fire or dust?
This is something we can’t understand!
Is love the reason?
A sweet madness in season? Is this what our hearts demand?”
*†*†*****************†*†*
Michael fell silent, with his words still hanging in the air Morgan nodded with a slight bob of her head. An nearly whispered ” Yes.” Echoed like thunder to Macha and Badbs ears. Morgan and Michael stood, Eyes locked across the room.
Badb reached out grasping Machas arm, “Did she? Did he? Did we? ” Macha, her heart breaking, nodded yes. Unshed tears glistened. Sometimes she detested the An da shalla. She had seen what was to be.
Badb was in shock. Her heart confused at all the conflicting demands. Elspeth, always the anchor, always the one voice of reason spoke. ” Congratulations Mrs. ? What exactly is the name?” Michael , moving across the room to stand in front of Morgan answered, “It is Llewis. Michael Arthur Llewis.”
Morgan smiled that insane predatory twisted smile. Speaking to Michael ,” To answer honestly, your first true question, Morgan. My true name is now Morgan.” Then laughing as she answered Elspeth. ” Elsie, it is Morgan Llewis now I guess.“Badb poured another round for Macha and herself. She tipped up the jug finishing it off. Muttering ” This won’t end well. This ever ends well. At least it will nae be boring”. Regardless, there would be no stopping this. No matter what fresh hells were being unleashed.
Macha raised her glass in toast, forcing a smile, and downed it. Elspeth set two more bottles down on the table. ” You will be wanting this.” Macha nodding a silent thank you. She randomly observed that Elsies Southern Mountain accent. The rhythm and rhyme was much like the old ways. The way the Cymraeg and Gael twisted the the bitter tasting English.
Getting drunk was the only thing to do. Morgan and Michael had left the cabin. They walked along the spring fed creek, towards its source. Macha taking a bottle of Johnny walker blue Withdrew into the barn. Communing with her horses. A Carthusian Grey, and an Ebony Andalusian, A pair of Roane and white of Lusitanian breeding also. They whinnied and spoke to her. Macha drank from the bottle bracing herself. Preparing for the coming storm. The horses did not care about anything or the reason, they only cared that Momma Macha was there with them. As for Macha, she had preferred her horses and hounds to people, for centuries. Ears pricked and twitched, tails swished, long silky manes tossed. The Horses were ecstatic. Macha, swigging from the bottle, kissed noses, scratched ears, talking out loud. Venting her displeasure. Each time she said the name, Nemain, the horses would stamp. Macha did not envy her sister, nor did she begrudge Nemains happiness. The problem was that Nemains happiness seemed to always be paid for in pain and loss, in their loss, in their blood. There ain't no such thing as a free lunch after all. Badb and Macha , by their peculiar nature, shared in Nemains consequences. Sometimes this whole quantum entanglement thing sucked!
Badb sat in the rocker by the fire. Drinking her bottle of Jamesons. Staring in to the flames. The faces of those slain, the dead and the dying showed in the embers. They brought a soothing peace to her heart. Badb was simply biding the time. Drinking , bored. Looking forward to the coming war, the joyous chaos, the spreading terror. Smiling to herself. The war they were already in. Of the trio, Badb was the most straight forward, the least complicated. Her joys and passions centered around chaos, blood and terror. For Badb, joyous times were ahead.
CHAPTER 16
The site upon which Machas cabin and barn sit had been blasted out of the mountain side. As were sections of the long driveway. Perched on the mountain side looking down upon a small valley. Completely isolated from the world outside by the mountains and a long series of ridge lines.
When they had blasted into the mountain they had uncovered two things. A cave entrance and a spring head. The spring flowed straight out of the sheer granite face 30 feet above the floor of the perch. The cabin , sat squarely over the cave entrance.
The annual winter ice wall was growing. The spring water rushing out of the six inch copper pipe coating the rockface. Over night the spray would freeze. Come sunrise the direct sun would melt the outermost layer. Every day and night the process would repeat. Every year there would be several feet of Ice built up. Underneath the glittering ice coating the sheer rock wall of dark grey granite had white quartz veins running through it.
The water sprayed out, falling into a stone trough. Which over flowed to make a small waterfall. Where it pooled then flowed into a channel carved out all along the base of the wall. It was fairly loud close to it all. The falling water made waterfall sounds. A murmuring crash, a whispered roar along with a crystalline tinkle. It made for a soothing sight and sound combination. Moss lined most of the channel. Potted roses, cut back for winter marked a path along the stream.
Following the line of the stream Michael could see where the stream flowed though mini rapids joining with a larger stream. That made for a solid creek. Which flowed along the side of the stone and gravel drive. The driveway made a lazy turn onto a log built covered bridge over the creek a couple of hundred yards below the blasted granite shelf the house and barn sat on. It was a fairly large area with a vertical cliff face bordering behind it. the edge a sheer cliff overlooking the various complexities of intertwined hidden valleys. The driveway was the only sloped surface in the region.
The scattered hemlock and holly trees stood out with their bright green leaves scattered amongst the bare oak and hickory forest. Standing on the front porch you can easily see over a mile of the valleys below. The sunlit stream sparkling as it winds its way down the mountain. The forest was thick enough that you could not tell where the winding road lay. These mountains are ancient, remnants of the greatest mountain range in the world. Mountains that had been whittled down eroded away by rain and water. The Florida peninsula was made up of a good portion of the mountains that had been washed down stream by the rain and countless springs, and creeks and rivers of the region. The mountain here was layered in alternating bands of limestone and granite.
The particular geology of the area caused the exposed face of the rock to be striped. Making a zebra pattern. This was an awesome spot for a home. Looking over the farm, there was the house next to the barn, a barn sized structure behind the two story log cabin. Looking up Michael could see many holes in the exposed lime stone. The mountain is riddled with caves.
Macha and her sisters had explored the caverns and galleries, finding all of the entrances that they could fit through. There were few that were large enough for a person to get through. Over all the smaller critters had the rest all to their gleeful selves.
Michael decided to make it a life goal of owning something similar to this kingdom of Macha’s. The thought of kingdom brought Michaels thoughts to security. Looking over everything once again, this time with an eye for securing the area. The mountain itself provided a measure of protection. Any threats from that direction could only come from above. While not an ideal situation, it did provide for a clear field of fire and zero cover for an aggressor force. The nature and dimension of the long drive limited the type of vehicles, no heavy trucks or equipment could make it up the winding narrow drive. The covered bridge at the edge of the plateau further limited access. Randomly Michael wondered if plateau was the proper term. The thought caused him to laugh out loud. It is not like he was going to be writing any after action reports or debriefing. Old habits die hard it seems. Michael popped the glove box in the dodge open , pressed the trunk release. Morgan watched him silently, wondering if he was going to do what she thought he was going to do. Michael rummaged about in the trunk then reappeared, now with a military thigh holster and semi auto pistol on his right thigh. Morgan smiled widely when she saw the Springfield M1A Scout rifle in his hands. “6.5 creedmore?” She asked. ” "Yes ma’am! Her name is Bess. The national match is Liz, and the socom carbine is Betsy.” Morgan nodded in approval. Michael’s childhood heroes had been Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett. The three rifles carried the names of those frontier heroes rifles. Michael raised the rifle to his shoulder, scanning about through the high powered scope. He was looking for any obvious threat positions. Places that a sniper would have cover, concealment, and over watch. Thankfully the closest positions were across the valley, near a mile away. Outside of a .50 cal or a .338 lapua, no firearms would be an issue. “I think a few game cameras posted along that ridge would be a good idea” Morgan followed the line of his sight. ” You are probably right.” She tapped his shoulder , pointing around at the high resolution security cameras positions on the house and barn. Michael nodded in approval, returning to his studying the lay of the land. Over all it was a fairly decent position. A couple of marksmen could easily cover and control all of the ways in and out. The four of them, with their abilities would have no problem defending the place. A few cameras along the drive, ridge, and the mountain top and they would have plenty of warning about any threat save an air assault. That they would hear coming, looking up and around, that left only an airborne insertion as a viable worry. Morgan was highly amused watching Michaels actions. His experience and competence were obvious. More reasons she found him attractive.
Morgan stood next to Michael gazing out over the small valley. To say that her mind and heart were in turmoil would be the understatement of millennia. The time she had spent in the other world, had to her experience been just over a century. Time perception in the other world is relatively subjective.
For Morgan it had been nearly a century that she had lived and relived some of Michaels memories. How long she had been there in his head before Michael had come for her, she had no clue. Had it been hours? Days? Decades? Decades in which thoughts of Michael had near literally held her together. Prior to the otherworld experience, Morgan had been conflicted where Michael was concerned. Something about him had called to her. Something that she could not control. She found that highly disconcerting . Morgan was not really thrilled about her state of mind when it came to Michael. This situation was a vulnerability she was in no way prepared for. Damnit all! Morgan was fully aware of the potential problems and found that she did not care. Emotions saying one thing, mind screaming another. Her past track record with love had been only a painful tragedy.
Near three thousand years ago, Morgan, then Nemain had married. That marriage ended when her husband had betrayed her and her people. What should have been the beginning of peace and a rebirth of the Aos Sidhe, came apart in fire, destruction and the near total eradication the Fomorii. What was to be the bridge between their peoples became their destruction. The Aos Sidhe, who had numbered in the thousands at that point. Never recovered from their Pyrrhic victory. A victory better described as only bitter survival.
As for the Fomori, maybe a handful escaped, no more than that. They had escaped west across the ocean pursuing the setting sun. The surviving Aos Sidhe, had neither the strength nor will to pursue them.
Now granted, her marriage had been a political ploy to begin with. She had come to have feelings for the half breed Llew right up until he betrayed the Aos Sidhe and Nemain in particular. His adultery with a Fomori and multiple humans, led to repeated battles and a temporary Fomori victory. A victory that laid the groundwork for centuries of hatred bloodshed and genocidal rage.
**************************
Balor had ravaged the Aos Sidhe for centuries. A pattern that continued until the Aos Sidhe had been consumed by the battle madness destroying the Fomori without mercy.
It was the Morrigan which had turned the tide, driving the Aos Sidhe battle mad, wreaking terror among the Fomori, pursuing and slaughtering the remnants among the waves as they wept and cried , begging for mercy in terror of death. Many many fell , lost in that last battle.
Morgans track record was truly unsettling. Now, here she is with Michael, and once again Llew is revealed in the mix. At that instant a thought began echoing about in her mind. His name, Michael Arthur Llewis! No wonder Macha and Badb are concerned. ” “Michael how is your surname spelled?” ” L L E W I S, it is Welsh I think.” Michael glanced at her with a questioning look. Morgan slapped both hands to her head , breaking down in laughter. Llew, Michael is a descendant of Llew! Oh that figures! That explains everything. Michael watched Morgans antics with growing apprehension. Morgan raised her voice , calling to Macha and Badb. A stumbling Macha emerged from the barn, ” Aye!! What d' yer want?” Badb stuck her head out of a second story window. “You bellowed?” Throwing her hands up Morgan cursed in Welsh, Gaulish, Gaelic and several other dead languages Michael could not identify. ” That bloody bastard set this up! That conniving traitorous aggravating bloody fucking know it all bastard!” Michael, Macha, and Badb simultaneously asked, ” Who?” “Lugh fucking lamfada, Llew bloody law fucking gyffes! Lugus the eternal ass!“ Macha dropped the half empty bottle of Old Weller 107, ” I bloody well knew it! Moytura all over again!” Badb climbed out of the window dropping and landing on her feet. A smile on her face She strolled over to the car, slapping Michael on the back in passing. Looking into the trunk Badb enthusiastically declared, ” A rocket launcher, I think we need a rocket launcher. ” Badb smiling is reason for worry alone. Badb enthusiastic is frightening. When Badb is happy, generally no one else is. When Badb is enthusiastically happy, an apocalypse is near.
CHAPTER 17
The God slayers awake.
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Morgan opened the wooden box revealing of all things a sword. The sword revealed is magnificent. Twisting writhing serpents of pattern welded steel. An ancient blade of heroes. A power long concealed. The sword, an intoxicant, a dream, a nightmare. The worked pattern welded steel blade of writhing Silver flames caught and crystalized. Magic and poetry and prophecy and desire and darkest need. All manifest in a work of deadly art. Battles dream, creations predator, the devourer of souls . Herald of darkness, the lover of chaos. “Amhrán Geal Chatha Itheoir Anamacha”
(Bright song of battle devourer of souls)
Michael reached out lifting the sword from the case. She fit him perfectly, a living flame of rage and grace. Morgans gasp and startled attempt to stop him was of no use.
A cacophony of thoughts, chaotic emotions, and images flooded Michaels perception. A wailing moan cut through it all. That it was from the sword was self evident. From the back of his mind Michael could hear his rational self telling him to let it go. Put the sword down before it consumed you, He did not. Rational reasoning became a thing lost to the past. The pure passion of existence, the pleasures of experience have become the purpose of life itself. The last traces of humanity burned away, now forgotten.
Michael could feel the thoughts of the blade whispering through his mind, clawing its way through his essence. The sword is alive, sentient, a willful creature in it’s own right he realized as a powerful desire raged, flowing over and through him. The lust for blood and souls, his new desire, a new purpose. The swords laughter a demanding song burning within his mind. Power, a sense of invincibility filled him.
Michael laughed exhilarated, enraptured. The sense was an intoxication, a hunger, a thirst, a lust, a desire. All of that and more. Every sense was stimulated. Every core desire of his being magnified. God slayer, soul drinker, death incarnate, power manifest in desire.
Morgan was too late in stopping Michael from touching the sword. She watched him lift it from the wooden case. Expecting Michael to be destroyed, consumed by the sword-thing. Morgan was dismayed by the look of rapture that radiated from Michaels face. When he began laughing cold chills ran up her spine. There were two voices in the laughter. Two voices twisted like mating serpents of sound into a singular harmony. The song of battle, god slayer, devourer of souls unleashed to work it’s will upon reality. Now was the time to pay the piper and call the tune.
Morgan felt something she had never experienced before. Rage, fury, lust, curiosity, desire, love, all of those emotions Morgan was intimate with. This new thing was disturbing. She shivered, the icy cold sensation began in her stomach and spread throughout her body. She wanted to flee, all of her being demanded that she run, hide, get away from this thing before her. Morgan had discovered a living fear for the first time. Michael was flooding the room with powerful pheromones. Morgan reacted to the new things. She was turned on. Excited, curious.
Badb watched with her twisted smile. Morgans state plainly showing, her nipples hard and aching. This! This was better than Badb could have hoped for. Badb danced a quick skipping jig moving closer to Morgan. Macha and Morgan were focused on Michael. They paid Badb no mind. Badb reached out picking up the metal case. When she opened it and verified what it was she began laughing. Oh better and better! The lightning spear. Her old friend, awake and hungry. A Flame tongued blade as long as her forearm. Pattern welded like the sword. The spear head looked as if it were moving, a twisting, flowing silver flame. The butt cap a spike of the same worked meteoric steel lay shinning beside the spear head. These were the weapons that killed Balor and slaughtered the Fomor. The weapons that the champion Lugh had carried so long ago. Forged from a falling star, beautiful and terror sculpted. Badb carefully placed the box, contents untouched, back onto the coffee table. Long had she sought them. Long and long again they had remained hidden away. Sixteen hundred years to be exact. Sixteen hundred years since she had taken the sword and spear back.
Macha, had loved him. She had been Arthur’s Gwynnhyffyr. The white phantom. The maker of kings and betrayer of heroes.
Macha and Nemain had stolen the Sword in order to give it to Arthur. Badb had the spear hidden away. She happily brought it forth to gave it to him. The battlefields were a glorious feast! Saxon and Angle , Jutes, frisians, rebellious Celts, back stabbing Romans, all had fed the caged demons within the sword and spear. The final battle, the big betrayal had been a joyous thing. In Gaul, just outside of Avallon, Arthur Pen-Draeg, the Riothamus, King of the Britons, with eleven thousand men faced Euric and his army of a hundred thousand. Badb had taken the spear from Arthur the night before the battle and gifted it to the Visigoth king. The slaughter was magnificent. Arthur was slaughters glorious whore on the field. His warriors killed near a quarter of Eurics army between the battle and then the harrowing withdrawal to Avallon. Euric attempted a siege, then hearing tidings, false though they were, of Ricemer and legions coming. Euric quit the field to flee into Hispania. Badb removed the spear from his keeping. She could not abide cowardice. She gifted the spear again and again until it had disappeared. It became known as the spear of destiny. Who held it, held victory. Macha, stayed with Arthur until his ignoble betrayal. She did not know what happened for certain at Camlan. She only knew that Bedwyr had taken the sword at Arthur’s death. Supposedly he had cast it into the lake that fed the Aeronowy river in the west of Cymry. Though she searched she had not found it. Bedwyr was killed before she could interrogate him. Aberaeron became a regular haunt in her chronic quests for the sword.
Michael stood , his gaze upon the beautiful death god in his hands. The sword of kings, the god slayer crooning to him. Macha gingerly moved away from him, jostling Morgan in passing. Badb cleared her throat and stopping Macha, pulling her down to sit beside her. Morgan was transfixed. Her eyes could not leave the sword in Michaels hands. Macha and Badb called morgans name, ” Nemain! Morgan!”
Morgan struggled to look away from Michael. When both Badb and Macha reached out grasping her hands She looked back at them. The three stared into each others eyes in silence. Macha and Badb pushed and pulled on Morgans hands, guiding them to the silver case on the table. Morgan, realizing what they were trying to do looked down at the Spear head, ” No! Na Den!” She struggled against them. The trio are evenly matched. Not one stronger than the other. Two against one however easily over powered Morgans resistance.
Morgan felt a tingle in the air as her hands were forced closer. The closer her hands got, the stronger the tingling, until she was finally forced to touch it. All three gasped aloud as an electric shock flowed through them. The spear awakened, began to sing. Words of lightning burned through the Morrigna’s mind. The Spear read the three of them, rejecting two. Macha and Badb recoiled releasing Morgan. The spear began crooning to Morgan. The electric tingle fading into a comforting warmth.
Images Echoed in Morgans mind. Images and memories, a sense of focused determination swept over and through her. Morgan felt oddly complete. As if a missing piece of her had been restored. Pleasure swept over her in waves. Morgan began laughing like Michael had. Just as with Michael, two voices were laughing. Macha and Badb quickly rolled over the back of the sofa putting as much distance between them all as possible. Morgan sat down calling to Michael.
Michael heard Morgan call to him as if from down a long echoing tunnel. When he tore his eyes off of the sword looking at Morgan, it took a moment for his eyes to focus. She was glowing. The energy around her , bright green and blue flames, covered her head to toe.
Michael watched the expression on her face flit between rapture and annoyance. Morgan was struggling, fighting her own contest of wills against the silver bright being in her hands. Like the sword, the spear head was sentient. It sought control of her. Morgan fought with all of her being to remain in control, denying the demands of the spear. Hunger, desire, lightning, fire washed through her. Morgan slowly gained control, or rather the spear had submitted for it’s own reasons. Faint images played in her mind at first. whispers, cries, penetrated her awareness. The multitude of voices crying out, begging for release, pleading for the peace of death. The spear enjoyed their torment. Greedily feeding off of the fear and pain and chaos that radiated from the trapped multitude.
Like the sword, the spear drank souls and the essence of those it killed. The souls of its victims trapped in hellish torment. That was the why of the waves of pleasure and laughter. The endless torment was exquisite. Every flavor of fear, terror, despair, rage forever the demons to feast upon and enjoy. A source of pleasures for the wielder as well.
The soul devouring song of battle, and the Lightning spear are demons. Little gods in an elegant lethal beauty.
Artificial intelligences imbued within the atomic structure of their host weapons. A quantum computer composed of electron spin, crystalline matrices, clouds of probabilities. The demons absorbed the essence of whomever they touched. Creating a quantum copy of their victims essence as the victim died. Some of the last surviving technology of the ancients, the Aos Sidhe. Any sentience is fodder for the devourers.
Macha and Badb could feel the subtle pull across the distance of the main room as the demonic weapons reached for their essence. ” Put them back into their cases!” Macha spoke out, her voice sounding shrill and forced. ” Put them down” Badb demanded. Both Michael and Morgan refused. They were not going to allow the weapons out of their touch. Neither Badb or Macha could challenge them both. One, possibly if Michael or Morgan were alone. Maybe, it would be a chancy thing though. Badb started backing towards the stairs, should Morgan and or Michael lose control. Badb wanted as much head start as possible. ” What the fuck have we done? Fuck! Fuck! Ahhh damnitt Fuck!” Macha chanted as litany. Hoping that Michael and Morgan would focus on Badb so that she could move undetected. The only problem being, she had no idea where to go. Morgan watched her sisters curiously. Morgan could not understand their reaction. Her own fear only moments past already forgotten. Michael was talking softly to the sword. ” No. You cannot have them. ” Reluctantly Morgan placed the spear head on the table. It took an effort of will to let go of it. Michael was shaking his head no, having a seemingly one sided argument with the sword. This continued for the longest two minutes Macha had ever known. When Michael finally placed the sword back into it’s box, Macha moved. Slamming the box lid shut as she passed it, pushing Michael away from the table and the sword. Badb moved as fast as she was able, grabbing morgan from behind dragging her over the back of the sofa. Then Macha and Badb took positions between the weapons and Morgan and Michael. Both of whom sat still on the floor where they had been dropped. The flames that had been dancing around them faded away leaving only faint after images behind. A nervous few minutes passed with Macha and Badb standing guard over the weapons. Michael and Morgan slowly regained their normal senses. ” No wonder those had been hidden away. ” Morgan declared. Michael sat looking down at his hands. He expected to see blisters and extensive burns. He couldn’t process why his hands were not a mass of burns.“What the hell is that thing in there?” Michael demanded.
Macha bent and carefully used an empty whiskey bottle to push the spear off of the table back into it’s case. She was extremely cautious about touching it. Even in the case once again Macha could feel it. Both weapons resonating a Malevolent hunger demanding to feed.
“Yeah, no. Not here, not the now. ” Macha addressed the closed cases. A sense of protest and hunger radiated from the weapons. ” It is hungry. The spear demands sacrifice.” Morgan informed her sisters. ” She needs to devour!” Michael exclaimed gesturing towards the wooden case.
" Not here, not the now” Macha repeated. Morgan and Michael scrambled to their feet. The thirst had been growing since they had first touched the weapons. Badb picked up Morgans shoulder bag from the floor next to the sofa, tossing it to Morgan. ” Knoxville and Chattanooga are about the same distance.” She stated flatly. Macha nodded assent. “You both should go. Feed. Clear heads so we can figure this out. ” Morgan moved towards the door, Michael following. Both reluctant. They did not want to leave the weapons. The weapons crooned, moaning out loud. Badb stepped over to Morgan and pushed her towards the front door. Macha moved, maneuvering Michael towards the door. The tactics seemed to work at first. Then the two dug in their heels resisting. The moment Badb felt solid resistance from Morgan she stopped, backing away from her. Michael stopped, standing quietly. Macha felt as if she were trying to push a stone wall. Neither Morgan nor Michael moved or behaved aggressively. ” We cannot leave them behind” Morgan informed her sisters. “They must be fed” Michael explained. “They sing to us. They are in our minds.” Morgan explained. Macha did not want to allow them to touch the weapons. Neither did Badb. Michael began edging back towards the table. Morgan did as well. A duo of wailing erupted from the cases. Understanding dawned upon Macha. Badb had already retreated partway up the stairs. Better and better! Macha joined her. ” Ellie, safe room!” Macha called out. A moment later the sound of a metallic door was heard from the kitchen. Michael reached the table first. As he picked up the wooden case, he tossed the silver case to Morgan. Both turned to the door and left without ceremony. Moments after the door closed Macha looked to Badb, ” What have we done? How powerful are those? ” Badb was feeling as if just maybe this had been a really bad idea for all that it had been her idea to begin with. ” Nothing in the lore said anything about” Badb gestured towards the door ” all of that!” The spear never talked to me, it only moaned when hungry.”
" Dare we allow them to keep them?” Macha asked Badb. She snorted, ” As if we could take them back now!” she replied. The sisters looked at each other in silence. The unsettling realization that there was no turning back sinking in. There would be no calling this back. The madness of fate, or is it the fate of madness? Either way, the devil was ready to dance and they had called the tune.
CHAPTER 18
Her Love is insane
Completely deranged
She is everything evil believes
She is wrong when she is right
She is fire she is light
She is all that I need.
Everything dawn can believe.
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Badbh paced for a moment, swilling whiskey straight from the bottle. Memories rose, playing in the cinema of her mind. Memories of the last time she had held one of the god slayers in her hands.
Fog roiled on the bay. The High tide climbing, brought the coracle on. Cloaked in mist the coracle rode the tide hidden from sight.
Brendan, crouching at the bow, stared into the mist. Now and again he clashed both clackers he held tightly, straining for a sign, an echo, to tell him they had entered the small sheltered bay they had steered for.
Badbh stood, holding to the foremast of the two masted raider they skimmed over the sea in. Listening for that echo herself.
Brendan tried not to stare back at her. Her warmth still clung fiercely to his memories. Waking, wrapped in soft cashmeres and seal skins, Badbh, held close, her head on his chest. He was studying her face, as she slept, two hands breadths away from his face. It startled him when she had opened her eyes, to pierce him through and through.
Emeralds, fiery, lightning swept emerald flames , cut into him. When her eyes opened. She sighed, smiling lazily. Sensually tracing her ruby tongue tip across all eight of her fangs.
Brendan was easily riled up. What man could not be with her? Most people responded to Badbh with blatant fear. Some, the courageous ones, responded with unease. A few, reckoned mad by most were enthralled. Brendan, was enthralled.
Nemain, had been amongst the Norsemen, pretending to be Gormlaith. In Dublin She worked at stirring up the Norsemen. Macha, also, known as Gormlaith was busy stirring the cauldrons of Munster the passions of the Boru, Brian King of the Dal Cais.
Such a glorious war this would be. All three of the Morrigna had taken turns , alternating between Midhe, Cashel, and Dubhlin. Badbh had recruited Brendan and his men on a whim. Merely to increase the chaos.
Eire had gotten boring since Brian, the Boru had wrested the crown from Malachi. The Island was growing peaceful. That could not be tolerated.
With their diminished numbers, the Aos Sidhe needed the chaos of war to provide cover for their particular appetites. Can't have the cattle discover the wolves in their midst. Panicked stampeding herds are, usually painful.
This particular excursion ,for example , a raid into Gwynydd. To sow chaos between the Norse and the Cymry. Well that had been the plan so to speak. Brendan thought they were going to Gwynydd. Badbh had been targeting Man, all along. Manannan’s complacent attitude had annoyed Badbh, so, she was engineering a wake up call.
Norse raiders ruled on Man now. The people though, were still Celts.
Stirring up Manannán mac Lir’s minions was an extra pleasure.
Mac Lir, was Llews son.
Drawing him into the fight would serve no purpose other than chaos and malevolence. Badbh didn't care which faction he chose. With luck she could get him to support Brian or Malachi, then betray them when the Morrigna revealed her selves. Badbh giggled at the thought.
The coracle was beached, the crew dispersed, creeping through the heavy mist.
Brendan, was not pleased. Norse longships, in port? In Gwynydd?
This was not Cymry, or Mona.
What was that damned woman Up to? Where had she led them?
The men had set out with flint and dry tinder. Bundled securely with small pots of whale oil.
Some, not caring that it was not Gwynydd, set to murder and mayhem regardless.
Brendan, and the remaining three, were discussing the longships when Manannan loomed before them. Warriors flowed around him towards the raiding Irish.
There was no battle. Only Brendan managed an attempt, as he moved to draw sword, he was downed, pierced by three spears before his blade cleared the scabbard. Brendan finished the draw as he fell.
Badbh, skipped happily up to Manannan. Incongruous in armor, armed, The blood of the other raiders marked her face as she glared at Manannan.
He had grown. The boy had become a man.
Badbh was amending her plans.
This was, unexpected. The mark of Llew definitely showed in the man.
Yet, Manannan had a visage his own. A bit more rugged. More, hmmm, manly. He stood nearly a full head taller than her.
Badbh could see, the Aos Sidhe flames danced faintly about him. He was still, human so to speak. A sly smile graced her face. Yes, He would do indeed.
Manannan glowered, he knew who this madly beautiful woman was. “ This” he gestured, “is my island, my realm. Why are you here?”
He did not bother to draw sword. It would have been pointless he knew.
He kept an arm about her waist. She let him.
Manannan escorted Badbh into the stone walled hall.
The warriors, a mix of Britons, Scots, Norse, and Danes watched the scene.
Their chiefs reputation, rose even higher. Their lord, had claimed a demon ,clearly, and that had awed them. They had seen her tearing the throats out of the raiders, laughing.
Not a man envied him. Beautiful though she was.
It began as light though sharp love bites. It progressed, growing as the wild storms of the Irish sea do. Flashing into a tempest , in moments, out of a gentle misting rain.
Manannan could by no means resist. Badbh rode him fiercely, snarling, biting, tearing at him. He did not care. The feel of her, the fire the intensity was a pleasure that over whelmed the pain. A pain he had stopped noticing or feeling, truthfully he didn't care which, the day before.
Manannans own desires blazed. Together they burned. Blue, green, red Auras of flame burned, cloaking them in fires no human eye could see. Manannan relished the flames. With some effort, Badbh wasn't cooperative. Manannan heaved her up, they twisted about, a momentary struggle that found Badbh pinned beneath Manannan to her growing delight.
Sex, before, during, and after the change was a new experience for Badbh. The intensity, the ever increasing passion, the shifting, changing , growing sensations. Badbh found herself enthralled for a change. This, had turned out to be more fun than battle. A lover of madness, wed to darkness, Badbh had found a peace. She surrendered to the storm. Together, they became, the storm.
The skies reflected the gathering storms in Manannan’s eyes. Badbh strolled with an affected casual grace, across the broad valley. She had vanished the night before, while he had slept, stayed from their, what exactly was that? Coming together? Becoming? Och!
I doesn't matter, it was good.
Manannans eyes glittered as he glimpsed what she carried nonchalantly. The bloody woman had climbed Ynis Withryn to Llews eyrie, and robbed him! Manannan knew that sword. Every one knew that sword! “Aye she is a thirsty one now isn't she?” A round of grunted assent from his war band told. Him he had spoken that aloud.
She strolled up to him grinning. Tossed the sword to him.
“ A sweet toy now for you Mac.” He caught it, she leaned in, her breath hot across his neck,
“ I think ye earned it lad.”
The men chuckled.
He wished she wouldn't call him Mac. Or Lad for that matter.
Still, the bloody woman was eons old if rumors held any truth. Manannan held the sword up over head. The war band clashed axes and spears to shields, “ Mac Lyr, Mac Lyr!” Rang out.
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What is evil? What is good? Is the lion evil for hunting and devouring it’s prey? Does perspective define evil? Is evil an objective absolute? Is evil, like beauty, strictly in the eye of the beholder? Do the rules of the herd apply to the predator? Does the predator ever consider the perspective of the prey? Does the predator even care about the perception of food?
Do the Aos Sidhe ever consider the perception of their prey? Of course not! The Aos Sidhe consider humans only in the manner one pays attention to sharp objects or bee stings. Potentially dangerous, if due caution is observed, neither sharp objects or insects are a threat. If anything they are merely a nuisance. Humans are not considered people. Humans were created from a breeding program. A program to create the most useful cattle and servants possible. The only people are the Aos Sidhe.
However, steal honey from the bees, then the entire hive attacks. That becomes a threat. Humans have evolved in great numbers. Humans have sought to emulate the people for millennia. Even a chimpanzee can learn to fire a gun if it plays with one long enough. That is at most what humans are. Hairless primates that host fragments of the Aos Sidhe DNA. Humans only have a double helix DNA formation. People, have a triple helix DNA . That is more that twice the coding the cattle carry. The Aos Sidhe are not related to any primates on this earth. The Aos Sidhe are the original intelligent species of the Solar System.
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Badb grew impatient at the repeated texts and calls. Macha had refused to answer her cel, now Badbs cel was being blown up.
" Yes?” Badb answered with a snarky attitude.
" What have you done? Have you lost your bloody minds? Och, aye, Don’t answer that! What ever you are doing has to stop! Right this moment! In the now!′ Thundered out of the tiny speaker. ” Too late, it is done.” Was her reply as she ended the call, dropping the cel onto the coffee table.
Badb cackled cheerfully, Chaos and war, are her preferred amusements. Llew cursed and threw his cel across the alleyway to smash on the brick wall.
Llew, was in motion. He had acquired a new Tesla phone and taking a cab to the airport. Enroute he made arrangements to pick up his ticket and boarding pass at the Ryan kiosk at the Shannon airport. Then, back to America. Furiously hoping it was not too late to stop whatever insanity the Morrigna was unleashing. Things had gone considerably sideways. He had known better than to relax! With the Morrigna, the only certainty is chaos. Llew was pleased when he found no passengers in first class on board the passenger jet. Being crowded in with humans in confined spaces was not a favorite thing. Llew leaned his first class seat back. Relaxing, gathering his wills together. His state of being conflicted. One is angry that the god slayers were awake and in circulation. Another was envious, like an addict wanting a fix. The central will was trying to prepare them, which was a difficult task when the other two won’t stop their unceasing bickering. One of the primary issues with the god slayers is that they are highly addictive. A psychological, physical and emotional addiction. The other problem is that they have their own agenda which they ardently pursue.
Morgan and Michael were cruising southbound for Chattanooga. There had been major battles fought there during the war between the states. Morgan loved battlefields, She found them comforting. If they continued another two hours they could hit Atlanta as well. The burning of Atlanta and the battles surrounding the state capitol gave the region a resonance of woe. The Gae bolga moaned in anticipation. Morgan caressed the spear head in her lap. She would have to get an Ash shaft to flesh the spear out. She commented as much. Michael Chimed in, ” There is a place to get one just outside Atlanta. I got most of my kit there. You’ll love it!” They discussed their options , deciding to hit up the rest area on I-75 just over the state line. There would certainly be a snack there to tide them over. Michael absently caressed the pommel of the sword.
Looking out at the passing cars. Spying the Manchester exit he sighed. ” Bonaroo would be fun.” The black Dodge sped along. Their shiny new friends were starving. Neither had eaten in centuries, as they continually reminded Morgan and Michael. Their hunger was getting increasingly difficult to control. Sharing the sensations back and forth creating a feed back loop that magnified the desires and appetites of all involved.
Morgan was so distracted by the mental struggle going on within that she had completely by passed Chattanooga. She pulled off into the rest area just past the Georgia state line. Michael for his part, engaged in an internal dialogue with the sword did not notice until Morgan was pulling into the parking space. He looked up and around. ” Where are we?” Morgan smiled, licking her lips. ” I am hungry, thinking a buffet was a good idea.” Michael nodded, ” Great idea!”
Morgan followed the man across the parking lot. The spearhead carried low, close to her thigh. Michael watched in interest. This was his first opportunity to see Morgan hunt . This would be entertaining, not to mention how sexy Morgan looked, focused on the hunt. The man, in his mid thirties, big, beefy, he had probably been a football player or wrestler back in school. Those muscles now gone soft. He disappeared from sight, his vision blocked by a semi trailer. Michael moved, As Morgan disappeared behind the same trailer. Michael jumped, he landed smoothly on top of the trailer. Looking down, he was amused.
The man, evidently a truck driver, had stopped in the middle of climbing into the trucks cab. He had noticed Morgan following him. Stepping back down the man turned to face Morgan. Michael could see his eyes dilate, hear his heart beat speed up. Before the man could make a sound Morgan moved. She was a couple of inches taller than the man. Morgan slid the spear into the mans belly, lifting his feet a few inches off of the ground when the spear blade was buried full length. This made it so that she did not have to do more than tilt her head as she tore into his throat. The only sound the man could make was a slight gurgling as he kicked his feet and flailed his hands. The sound of broken ribs and tearing flesh was accompanied with the sound of Morgan’s feeding. The mans flailing became twitching. The spearhead moaned in ecstasy. The dying mans terror, a sweet perfume on the early mornings mist.
Once she had drained him, Morgan stuffed the empty husk into the trucks cab and closed the door. Licking her lips she smiled up at Michael before leaping to join him. They kissed, the metallic copper taste of the trucker still fresh on Morgan’s lips. Michael could feel the subtle tremor, like a cats purr of the sated Spear head in her hand. The sword at Michaels side moaned in hunger.
Using the tops of the semi trailers as stepping stones Michael and Morgan moved down the line of parked trucks. So quietly did they move, concealed by the mornings mist and light rain fall. That no one noticed their passing. There were fifteen big rigs scattered on each side of the rest area. It was Michaels turn to feed. Together , they drank their fill sharing the kills with the sword and spear. Another trucker and a married couple were next. Michael was highly amused that they were not married to each other. This rendezvous would be their last. They died watching each other be ravaged. Two Georgia highway patrol men rounded out their snack. Rest areas are convenient feeding areas. Quick access from the highway, usually far outside of towns and cities, always plenty of traffic. It is sort of like when a Jaguar, stakes out a watering hole, just waiting for dinner to take a drink. Only, humans are far less aware of their surroundings than an Antelope or even a Prairie Dog is. It is that grandiose ego and narcissistic self obsession at work. Humans only imagined they were the top of the food chain. Cattle pretending to be predators. Sheep larping as wolves.
The sword and spear chanted eldritch melodies and rather ancient, forgotten songs of distant worlds, forgotten times. Runes were softly moaned, singing in a two part harmony, spells to entice and allure. Michael did his best to ignore the enticing eloquence of death. The struggle between the demons and their new wielders for mastery and control would be a continual perpetual struggle. One slip, and Morgan and Michael would be consumed by the endless hunger and thirst of the god slayers.
On board the massive 747, Llew was drawing closer to his destination. Thank the gods of chaos for first class! He had ordered Scotch as soon as the stewardess came by to ask if he wanted anything. First class on the jumbo jet held only Four people that he could sense. Llew began to relax and leaned his seat back. After hitting that shot of scotch, straight up neat, he opened the second tiny bottle and slammed that shot as well, then lay back to try and nap. Likely he would not be getting much rest over the next few days. Trying to rest his mind, memories of the sword and spear well up unbidden. The righteous joy of battle, the ravens feast of their enemies. Even after near three thousand years, the cravings are fierce. In his head the other two of him continued arguing. Around and around they go. Where it stops he doesn’t know.
Ages ago, just after the second battle at Moy Tura the three day battle where Llew had commanded. That was when the three distinct personalities were born within and Llew became the triune Lugh Llew Lugus. The continual strain and struggle of bearing both sword and spear, plus the strain of command in a genocidal struggle for survival had taken their toll.
Victory always has a price. While the Morrigna manifests the need, the madness and the chaos of war, they divided the strains of war amongst themselves. The Morrigna had not been affected in the least. Llew had subdivided within himself. One had become three. Three that randomly switched among them selves. They argued, they fought, they gambled and bargained for dominance. One could never be certain which aspect was in control until after the action chosen was complete. This ensured that time spent with Llew was always interesting, often frustrating and usually confused.
CHAPTER 19
************************
The Atlanta Hartsfield airport is a chaotic mess for humans to deal with. Whether by fate, destiny or general malicious intent the place had infuriated Llew within a few minutes of deplaning. The design and layout is not passenger friendly and is certainly Aos Sidhe hostile. The TSA harassment, luggage confusion, and the mixture of volatile emotions that surrounded him in the busy airport were all a designed inconvenience. Certainly it was all a pointless and unpleasant experience. Llew mused that Loki must have been the architect and engineered the pointless, useless posturing pretending at combating terrorism.
Many people crowded together responding to the most powerful emotions around them. Operating in a biological feed back loop of pheromones, emotions, anxiety, fear and anger caused shedding of random pheromones in abundance. The mixtures of the different pheromones were most fragrantly diverse. The volatile mixture, a taste of intoxication with revulsion, which further amplified the unpleasantness. Llew was convinced that he would never get the pheromone residue out of his sweater.
Once he had found his duffle bag and retrieved a black anodized Aluminum case that happened to be the exact length of his arm, Llew made his way towards the main entrance. He climbed in the first rental car agency’s van he saw. It was past time to rent a car and hope Macha or Morgan would tell him where they were at. Badb surely only wanted mayhem and madness and gratuitous violence. Entertaining as that is, it served only as a distraction.
He knew a vague region and that was all. Without their cooperation he would spend months searching to no avail. Regardless he was on a quest. Part of the quest, is the journey. That is part of the problem of immortality. One learns and knows the patterns. After enough times though, it becomes boring. Hah, that arrogant perception brought new agonies. New twisted experiences. Llew, master of pointed riddles, sighed in understanding of the whole meaningless collapse of reality. The cat is alive, the cat is dead, the cat is taunting you, defying you, demanding you to look and see. Yet, in the end, the box is empty and Schrodinger was deceived.
Einstein and Podolsky and Rosen were all acolytes of Rambam. Llew had had his medieval Jewish doctor phase poised between the great teacher in the synagogues of Grenada, becoming Maimonides
Yes, The irony is delicious. The great pagan god, the proto lucifer teaching Kabbalah and Quantum mechanics.
Well irony is part and parcel now isn’t it?
I-75 goes straight through Atlanta. Morgan was enjoying herself weaving in and about the heavy eighty mile an hour traffic with reckless abandon. Laughing at a tricked out tuner, with its aggravating giant mosquito sounding muffler and purple flashing lights on the undercarriage. Morgan smacked her self in the head, ” Could of had a v-8" quoting from an old commercial. Morgan pushed it further. With her reflexes one hundred twenty miles per hour in traffic was as easy as twenty. Well, as long as she had the opening. That was the fun.
She was not racing the drivers around her. In truth, they were nothing more to her than those orange safety cones that line the highway. Safety cones that moved about randomly which gave it the challenge. Michael watched Morgan, her relaxed intensity was alluring. She is always a pleasure to watch.
Michael fortunately discovered that when he focussed upon Morgan, the constant mental chatter from the sword lessened. Evidently Michaels thoughts of Morgan were more than the sword could penetrate. He had determined that he was going to think about Morgan continuously. Not for the first time Michael wondered about the state of the thing between Morgan and himself. The time they had spent together in the other world was not the cause of this. He had no idea what to call it. Obsession? Possession? This thing had began the moment he had first seen Morgan. Before she had drained him. Before she had touched him he was already lost to her.
She is a wonder. Tell me does the darkness burn? Why, why yes it does ! Morgan is the living flame. Can ones soul burn? As Michael had discovered, yes it can. Morgan had set a fire that rather than consume him, it, enchanted? Is that the word? It seemed too ordinary to be the right word. She enchanted Me! Yeah, no. No matter how he said it in his mind did it work. Cast her spell? She is the spell, She is , Morgan is a Goddess, Michael was her high priest. Yes, Michael had to save that. Watching her reaction to being called a religion would be most intriguing.
Michael had yet to have the opportunity to process everything. So much had happened in the last week. So much in the here and now. The time in the other world was a whole different dragon to slay. A lifetime lived in moments packs quite a punch. Time truly is relative. Decades together in that place, that state of being had cemented the thing. Cemented? More like melted down and cast of pure Adamintium. That particular monument barely covered the strength of the physical bond let alone approached the entirety of this thing. No woman had ever affected him like she had. In the very beginning he had been overwhelmed by the chaotic assault on existence that is Morgan. The whole transcendent reality of the Morrigna is in it’s self an assault on reality. Morgan is the twisted pattern welded blade of the Sword, Badb the silver fired razors edge of that blade, the point of the matter. Macha, the guard, hilt and pommel. The foundation that binds all of the majestic terror together. Together they formed a thing of awe. A viciously beautiful creature of storms. A weapon of the pure chaos of creation manifest. The cruel cut of fate. The burning darkness consuming the light. Her epithets are endless.
With the weight of all of that upon him it had been impossible to process quickly if at all. Michael could see the enormity of emotion that flowed between Morgan and himself. He tried to examine it, to understand it. Everytime he thought he had it gripped it changed, it transformed and he had to begin allover again. Is this thing, maddening thing, is this love? That chaos and madness could only be love. A love forged of the blackest crystalline unobtanium. Love, Michael had always assumed was made of unobtainium. That dream that hides in the depths, the dark of his mind. Does the darkness burn? Yes, the darkness burns black when devouring the light. Made of flames cast from love that consumes everything in existence. Darkness is the devouring lover of light. Morgan is the dancing flame of darkness. Well damn!!! What the fuck does it mean when one can only form ideas of awe and prophetic experience? Poetry, is the pressure release of the agony of existence. Michael, as high priest and chief acolyte, the lover of insanity, did not care. Let the universe burn! Been there, done that. Death, eternity, perception, have no meaning. Ruefully, Michael broke it down. For the Aos Sidhe, the only concern was what flavor time has wrought. Nothing else was of consequence. Is that all there is to this new experience? Feast, hunt, feast, to what purpose? To feast? To taste? Ahhh yes! To feast! To devour! To consume! To become! To be all. The voice cackled in Michaels mind. He had become distracted from Morgan, which opened the door for the sword and it’s circular obsession. The struggle began anew.
Morgan did not resist the spears attempts. She simply ignored them. Millennia of experience in categorizing memory, had created a labyrinth of thought and memory that absorbed the spears consciousness. With no focus, nothing to struggle with, the spear had no option but to wander through Morgans memories. There was no contest of wills there. That did nothing to mitigate the unwavering hunger. The emotional impact was a different beast to slay. The emotions of the spear flowed over Morgan in waves. The desires brought a deep aching need. The emotions of the spear danced within her heart and inflamed her spirit. Her already fierce passions ignited and the fires of desire were lit. A stoked up Morgan is a volatile thing. One never knew how those flames would burn. Chaos could be amusing. Wreaking havoc among the humans was her version of cow tipping. A bored Morgan is a hurricane poised to strike. An evil dream just waiting to be released.
CHAPTER 20
a buffet was a good idea.” Michael nodded, ” Great idea!”
Morgan followed the man across the parking lot. The spearhead carried low, close to her thigh. Michael watched in interest. This was his first opportunity to see Morgan hunt . This would be entertaining, not to mention how sexy Morgan looked, focused on the hunt. The man, in his mid thirties, big, beefy, he had probably been a football player or wrestler back in school. Those muscles now gone soft. He disappeared from sight, his vision blocked by a semi trailer. Michael moved, As Morgan disappeared behind the same trailer. Michael jumped, he landed smoothly on top of the trailer. Looking down, he was amused.
The man, evidently a truck driver, had stopped in the middle of climbing into the trucks cab. He had noticed Morgan following him. Stepping back down the man turned to face Morgan. Michael could see his eyes dilate, hear his heart beat speed up. Before the man could make a sound Morgan moved. She was a couple of inches taller than the man. Morgan slid the spear into the mans belly, lifting his feet a few inches off of the ground when the spear blade was buried full length. This made it so that she did not have to do more than tilt her head as she tore into his throat. The only sound the man could make was a slight gurgling as he kicked his feet and flailed his hands. The sound of broken ribs and tearing flesh was accompanied with the sound of Morgan’s feeding. The mans flailing became twitching. The spearhead moaned in ecstasy. The dying mans terror, a sweet perfume on the early mornings mist.
Once she had drained him, Morgan stuffed the empty husk into the trucks cab and closed the door. Licking her lips she smiled up at Michael before leaping to join him. They kissed, the metallic copper taste of the trucker still fresh on Morgan’s lips. Michael could feel the subtle tremor, like a cats purr of the sated Spear head in her hand. The sword at Michaels side moaned in hunger.
Using the tops of the semi trailers as stepping stones Michael and Morgan moved down the line of parked trucks. So quietly did they move, concealed by the mornings mist and light rain fall. That no one noticed their passing. There were fifteen big rigs scattered on each side of the rest area. It was Michaels turn to feed. Together , they drank their fill sharing the kills with the sword and spear. Another trucker and a married couple were next. Michael was highly amused that they were not married to each other. This rendezvous would be their last. They died watching each other be ravaged. Two Georgia highway patrol men rounded out their snack. Rest areas are convenient feeding areas. Quick access from the highway, usually far outside of towns and cities, always plenty of traffic. It is sort of like when a Jaguar, stakes out a watering hole, just waiting for dinner to take a drink. Only, humans are far less aware of their surroundings than an Antelope or even a Prairie Dog is. It is that grandiose ego and narcissistic self obsession at work. Humans only imagined they were the top of the food chain. Cattle pretending to be predators. Sheep larping as wolves.
The sword and spear chanted eldritch melodies and rather ancient, forgotten songs of distant worlds, forgotten times. Runes were softly moaned, singing in a two part harmony, spells to entice and allure. Michael did his best to ignore the enticing eloquence of death. The struggle between the The righteous joy of battle, the ravens feast of their enemies. Even after near three thousand years, the cravings are fierce. In his head the other two of him continued arguing. Around and around they go. Where it stops he doesn’t know.
Ages ago, just after the second battle at Moy Tura the three day battle where Llew had commanded. That was when the three distinct personalities were born within and Llew became the triune Lugh Llew Lugus. The continual strain and struggle of bearing both sword and spear, plus the strain of command in a genocidal struggle for survival had taken their toll.
Victory always has a price. While the Morrigna manifests the need, the madness and the chaos of war, they divided the strains of war amongst themselves. The Morrigna had not been affected in the least. Llew had subdivided within himself. One had become three. Three that that never seemed to agree.
CHAPTER 19
************************
The Atlanta Hartsfield airport is a chaotic mess for humans to deal with. Whether by fate, destiny or general malicious intent the place had infuriated Llew within a few minutes of deplaning. The design and layout is not passenger friendly and is certainly Aos Sidhe hostile. The TSA harassment, luggage confusion, and the mixture of volatile emotions that surrounded him in the busy airport were all a designed inconvenience. Certainly it was all a pointless and unpleasant experience. Llew mused that Loki must have been the architect and engineered the pointless, useless posturing pretending at combating terrorism.
Many people crowded together responding to the most powerful emotions around them. Operating in a biological feed back loop of pheromones, emotions, anxiety, fear and anger caused shedding of random pheromones in abundance. The mixtures of the different pheromones were most fragrantly diverse. The volatile mixture, a taste of intoxication with revulsion, which further amplified the unpleasantness. Llew was convinced that he would never get the pheromonic residue out of his sweater.
Once he had found his duffle bag and retrieved a black anodized Aluminum case that happened to be the exact length of his arm, Llew made his way towards the main entrance. He climbed in the first rental car agency’s van he saw. It was past time to rent a car and hope Macha or Morgan would tell him where they were at. Badb surely only wanted mayhem and madness and gratuitous violence. Entertaining as that is, it served only as a distraction.
He knew a vague region and that was all. Without their cooperation he would spend months searching to no avail. Regardless he was on a quest. Part of the quest, is the journey. That is part of the problem of immortality. One learns and knows the patterns. After enough times though, it becomes boring. Hah, that arrogant perception brought new agonies. New twisted experiences. Llew, master of pointed riddles, sighed in understanding of the whole meaningless collapse of reality. The cat is alive, the cat is dead, the cat is taunting you, defying you, demanding you to look and see. Yet, in the end, the box is empty and Schrodinger was deceived.
Einstein and Podolsky and Rosen were all acolytes of Rambam. Llew had had his medieval Jewish doctor phase poised between the great teacher in the synagogues of Grenada, becoming Maimonides
Yes, The irony is delicious. The great pagan god, the proto lucifer teaching Kabbalah and Quantum mechanics.
Well irony is part and parcel now isn’t it?
I-75 goes straight through Atanta. Morgan was enjoying herself weaving in and about the heavy eighty mile an hour traffic with reckless abandon. Laughing at a tricked out tuner, with its aggravating giant mosquito sounding muffler and purple flashing lights on the undercarriage. Morgan smacked her self in the head, ” Could of had a v-8" quoting from an old commercial. Morgan pushed it further. With her reflexes one hundred twenty miles per hour in traffic was as easy as twenty. Well, as long as she had the opening. That was the fun.
She was not racing the drivers around her. In truth, they were nothing more to her than those orange safety cones that line the highway. Safety cones that moved about randomly which gave it the challenge. Michael watched Morgan, her relaxed intensity was alluring. She is always a pleasure to watch.
Michael fortunately discovered that when he focussed upon Morgan, the constant mental chatter from the sword lessened. Evidently Michaels thoughts of Morgan were more than the sword could penetrate. He had determined that he was going to think about Morgan continuously. Not for the first time Michael wondered about the state of the thing between Morgan and himself. The time they had spent together in the other world was not the cause of this. He had no idea what to call it. Obsession? Possession? This thing had began the moment he had first seen Morgan. Before she had drained him. Before she had touched him he was already lost to her.
She is a wonder. Tell me does the darkness burn? Why, why yes it does ! Morgan is the living flame. Can ones soul burn? As Michael had discovered, yes it can. Morgan had set a fire that rather than consume him, it, enchanted? Is that the word? It seemed too ordinary to be the right word. She enchanted Me! Yeah, no. No matter how he said it in his mind did it work. Cast her spell? She is the spell, She is , Morgan is a Goddess, Michael was her high priest. Yes, Michael had to save that. Watching her reaction to being called a religion would be most intriguing.
Michael had yet to have the opportunity to process everything. So much had happened in the last week. So much in the here and now. The time in the other world was a whole different dragon to slay. A lifetime lived in moments packs quite a punch. Time truly is relative. Decades together in that place, that state of being had cemented the thing. Cemented? More like melted down and cast of pure Adamintium. That particular monument barely covered the strength of the physical bond let alone approached the entirety of this thing. No woman had ever affected him like she had. In the very beginning he had been overwhelmed by the chaotic assault on existence that is Morgan. The whole transcendent reality of the Morrigna is in it’s self an assault on reality. Morgan is the twisted pattern welded blade of the Sword, Badb the silver fired razors edge of that blade, the point of the matter. Macha, the guard, hilt and pommel. The foundation that binds all of the majestic terror together. Together they formed a thing of awe. A viciously beautiful creature of storms. A weapon of the pure chaos of creation manifest. The cruel cut of fate. The burning darkness consuming the light. Her epithets are endless.
With the weight of all of that upon him it had been impossible to process quickly if at all. Michael could see the enormity of emotion that flowed between Morgan and himself. He tried to examine it, to understand it. Everytime he thought he had it gripped it changed, it transformed and he had to begin allover again. Is this thing, maddening thing, is this love? That chaos and madness could only be love. A love forged of the blackest crystalline unobtanium. Love, Michael had always assumed was made of unobtainium. That dream that hides in the depths, the dark of his mind. Does the darkness burn? Yes, the darkness burns black when devouring the light. Made of flames cast from love that consumes everything in existence. Darkness is the devouring lover of light. Morgan is the dancing flame of darkness. Well damn!!! What the fuck does it mean when one can only form ideas of awe and prophetic experience? Poetry, is the pressure release of the agony of existence. Michael, as high priest and chief acolyte, the lover of insanity, did not care. Let the universe burn! Been there, done that. Death, eternity, perception, have no meaning. Ruefully, Michael broke it down. For the Aos Sidhe, the only concern was what flavor time has wrought. Nothing else was of consequence. Is that all there is to this new experience? Feast, hunt, feast, to what purpose? To feast? To taste? Ahhh yes! To feast! To devour! To consume! To become! To be all. The voice cackled in Michaels mind. He had become distracted from Morgan, which opened the door for the sword and it’s circular obsession. The struggle began anew.
Morgan did not resist the spears attempts. She simply ignored them. Millennia of experience in categorizing memory, had created a labyrinth of thought and memory that absorbed the spears consciousness. With no focus, nothing to struggle with, the spear had no option but to wander through Morgans memories. There was no contest of wills there. That did nothing to mitigate the unwavering hunger. The emotional impact was a different beast to slay. The emotions of the spear flowed over Morgan in waves. The desires brought a deep aching need. The emotions of the spear danced within her heart and inflamed her spirit. Her already fierce passions ignited and the fires of desire were lit. A stoked up Morgan is a volatile thing. One never knew how those flames would burn. Chaos could be amusing. Wreaking havoc among the humans was her version of cow tipping. A bored Morgan is a hurricane poised to strike. An evil dream just waiting to be released.
CHAPTER 20
Biscuits,blood and sausage gravy with some sacred bacon on the Side.
Oh, and a baby...
These are a few of my favorite things,
la lalala la
†*************************
The scent of biscuits fresh from the oven and bacon sizzling on the stove called to Macha. Badb sat on the counter watching Ellie make breakfast. She had already stolen and eaten half the cooked bacon. This was a game Ellie had invented many years ago. As a very young girl, barely past the toddler stage. Ellie would climb up onto the counter and sneak bacon or sausages as Macha prepared breakfast. It amused Macha to watch Ellie wrinkle her brow, concentrating, waiting for the right moment. This had become the daily ritual. Macha cooked or baked while Ellie would try and steal tidbits from under Machas nose. This became a family game at breakfast. Sneaking bacon or sausages. When Ellie in her early teens took over the cooking Badb moved in and perched on the counter to steal the bacon.
The tea kettle began to whistle just as Macha walked through the door. She saw that Badb had her giant coffee mug steaming in her left hand, fishing for tidbits with her right. It was to be a coffee day.
THWAK! The sound echoed in the kitchen. Ellie had caught Badbs hand sneaking into the cast iron pan. Badb snatched her hand back , spilling some the hot coffee on herself waving her hand in the air. A red welt the precise size of Ellies mixing spoon already showing. With a light hearted flourish Ellie curtsied brandishing the over long stainless steel spoon. Macha watched in practiced amusement. Extra thick bacon, tempting beyond reason. Somehow Macha managed to snatch the remaining bacon from the pan along with a fresh hot biscuit. While Ellie and Badb were occupied. Munching fresh bacon and hot buttered biscuits the standard of comforting
fodder. Routines such as the breakfast ritual were a cornerstone of daily life at the cabin.
**************************
Traffic is a test of patience. Wishing he had a giant truck with an old fashioned cow-catcher on the front, for probably the ten or fifteenth time in the last hour. Atlanta at rush hour is an aggravation of immense proportions. It did not matter which way one chose, every route was packed and barely creeping along. The mental image of cars and trucks flying to the side leaving a wake of destroyed vehicles as the giant truck bulled through them was somewhat amusing. Llew couldn’t keep track of the number of times he had tried calling Macha and Badb. Still no answer. Trying Nemain would be dramatically useless. Even if he had her number he would be lucky if she answered just to scream fuck you at him. Sitting, waiting, his mind wandered. Surely Macha had spoken of her retreat. There had to be some sort of clue locked away in his memories.
As he drove along nearing an exit, Llew decided to pull off so he could eat. Meat would not do for this hunger. It had been over long since his last feeding. Slowly cruising along the exit lane it appeared as though there were no private areas. There was a Truck stop though. Resigned, Llew drove around the large parking area. He noticed that the line of trucks waiting for fuel, blocked the rows of parked trucks. Seeing the opportunity Llew began scanning for his meal.
turns out this truck stop was a rich buffet. So many choices. The parked trucks had blinds on their windows. Most of them idling so they can keep warm inside in the cold. A half dozen lot lizards scurried about the over-night parking lot running from truck to truck. Climbing up knocking on the windows. Now and then a door would open and one would disappear inside. Most of the trucks did not respond at all. The rejected lizards would scurry to the next in line. Hmmm I think I want an neapolitan tonight, Llew mused, selecting a blonde, a brunette and a red head, for the trifecta. Llew approached walking casually, selecting place, timing it so no one would notice him. Not that anyone would, broadcasting the glamour pheremones as he was, humans would just look past him without registering that he was there. He could not make himself invisible, he did alter perception so that they just didn’t care. Humans will block out the things they don’t want to see. Of course they did, that had been bred into them. It kept them docile when the herds were culled or harvested. They just looked the other way. Llew walked quietly up to the brunette, a flick of his hand, two open fingers rapped along the base of her skull, she immediately went limp. Llew caught her and leapt onto the closest trailer roof. Laying her down he looked about, the blonde and redhead were in the rear of the lot, arguing. Smiling Lugh dropped to the pavement and sprinted towards the raised voices. Snatching them was easy and a little amusing. The tall blonde was looming over the petite red head. Llew did not slow as he passed between them. Flicking the back of the blondes head in passing. He had stopped, turned about , catching her as she collapsed. Throwing her over his left shoulder he grinned, half bowed and ” Well hello there.” Greeted the now freaked out frightened red haired woman. Her eyes bugged out in surprise. As she inhaled to scream, Llew scooped her up and threw her over his right shoulder leaping, Landing on the roof of the trailer with two thirds of his meal. The red head started to scream, Llew smiled at her, all eight teeth elongated as she gaped at him. His hand flashed out quickly. Llew crushed her larynx between thumb and forefinger. Her scream died in its birth. Llew lifted her up, looked into her eyes, then savagely tore her throat out. When he finished with the lifeless husk he dropped it in place. The other two were still unconscious. Llew picked them up as he moved past to drop onto the pavement. CRACK! Snap ! Pop!
Llews left knee began to twitch, At least an extra two hundred pounds on that drop was more than his knee would tolerate. Gravity can be a royal bitch sometimes. Llew walked briskly with a slight limp between the parked semi’s. At the rear of the parking area was a small bit of brush and trees. Perfect for a pic-nic while his knee repaired itself. Settling down hidden in the brush, Llew idly gazed out at the scurrying lot lizards and drivers interacting. Smiling to himself Llew chuckled. Dinner and a show.
There was something in the air, a trace scent of powerful pheromones in the air. There should not be any Aos Sidhe within two states in every direction. Morgan knew that Macha and Badb were back at the cabin. Someone was where they should not be. That could not be good. ” Can you taste that?” Michael wrinkled his brow, not sure what Morgan was talking about. ” Taste what? Car exhaust and frustrated humans?” he asked in reply. ” No. The other one. can you not sense something else?” Thoroughly confused, Michael concentrated, taking a long breath he focussed on smell and taste. Yes, there was a faint something, vaguely metallic and seriously unsettling when he focused on it alone. ” What is that?” he asked grimacing. ” It is like, I don’t know what it is like. I don’t like it that I know for sure!” Morgan grunted in annoyance. She had been hoping that it was her over active mind at work. Whoever this was, had very recently, as in within the last day, passed along here.
That complicated things. Was someone tracking them? With a weary sigh she asked Michael to let her know if the scent got stronger. ” What is it?” He asked. ” It is another one of us where they should not be.” She explained. ” You got it.” Michael rolled the car window all the way down. Sitting back he closed his eyes to concentrate fully on scent and taste. Who ever this was tasted nothing like Morgan or the rest of the Morrigna. They tasted of a pleasing spice that evoked desire and clouded thought. This new one brought a sense of threat. Can threat have a distinct taste? It made sense as he thought it through. Adrenaline with the various pheromones raised from fear as the fight or flight reflexes dumped pheromones. The brew brought a coppery metallic taste from the humans as he hunted and fed.
CHAPTER 21
Car exhaust, burning diesel, oil and burnt brakes can hide many scents. An old trick had been to use a mixture made from natural oil seeps to disguise the hunting pheromones. Llew had stashed his lunch waste, tossing the bodies into a dumpster. He would have retrieved the one on top of the trailer, except that tractor and trailer had pulled out while he was snacking. It would be mildly amusing to see how long it took for the cadaver to be found. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Llew knelt and rubbed his hands in an oil stain on the pavement. He then rubbed along his neck and armpits. It took several oil spots and applications before he was satisfied. He knew that the Morrigna had a refuge in the mountains. Looking north and east he could see the beginning of the mountain range. Lugh was not exactly sure how they would respond to his uninvited visit. Not that he had not told him he was coming. Bad enough that they had recovered the battle regalia. Which of them had awakened the cursed things? Damn them! That trio was not the most stable or predictable to start with. Mix in the madness of the regalia and disaster was at hand. There were no more Formorii to battle. The ancient enemy was thirty five centuries dead or destroyed. The regalia should have been destroyed. He had tried. Each time he had neared the volcanic rift, something prevented his casting them in. Delegating the duty had resulted in the disappearance of Aphra. She had last been seen walking up the slope of Vesuvius. Then gone without a trace. Over the centuries, myths had grown around that tragedy. The Dorians had spun it into Pesephone and Hades. The Latins and Etruscans had sun it into the tale of Venus wed to Vulcan, living in the volcano, Vulcans forge. The reality was far less dramatic though agonizingly tragic. Aphra had been the best of them. It was no wonder that she was remembered as the morning star, the goddess of love. Nearly half the heroes of the legends, had been her children. All that had known her, loved her. You could not help yourself. Llew shook his head to clear the memories and visions from his head. Here and now required his attention. With a long suffering sigh, he retrieved a shirt from his travel bag, made sure no trace of his feeding showed then went inside the truck stop shop and restaurant. Llew wondered if they had tea or only that bitter american truckers coffee. Americans and their bloody coffee! Why couldn’t they have preferred a proper tea instead? Examining the Lipton tea bags on the drink bar he snorted in displeasure, choosing to go with coffee instead. Is Darjeeling or Prince of wales or Devonshire too much to ask for? Even Twinings would be preferred. The coffee was fresh brewed. Sweet arabica bean could be tasted on the air. He went about preparing two large coffees. Both heavily sweetened, one black, one with cream. He had examined the bottles of flavoring, rejecting the artificial hazelnut. The chemicals it was made from were not pleasant to the taste. Putting the coffees into a drink carrier he selected two bottles of cold sweet tea. Sniffing at them they did not seem repulsive. The scent of chocolate drew him to the candy aisle. This was much more to his liking. Llew took three extra large bars of dark chocolate. Thus fortified he went in search of maps. Finding a detailed atlas of the South eastern U.S. detailed down to even the forestry roads. He was ready to check out. Standing in line, the smells from the kitchen assailed him. Llew decided to take a booth in the restaurant. Something for dessert seemed as a good idea. He could taste several tempting pies on the air. He paid for his things and walked through the store into the restaurant. A booth was open in the far corner. It would give view of all of the entrances with his back to the wall. Llew sat down, settled in and concentrated on the pies he could taste. The peach cobbler or the blackberry? He couldn’t decide. When the waitress asked for his order, he asked for some of each. She was blushing and trying not to stammer as she took his order. Llew tended to have that effect on human women. He opened the road atlas to see if anything sparked his memory. Sipping his coffee as he flipped through the pages he was completely surprised when an unknown male Aos Sidhe pheromones caught his attention. Eyes scanning the restaurant saw nothing. When Llew got to the store entrance and register, he found source. An Aos Sidhe he had never seen before. As tall as Llew with long strawberry blonde hair, to Llews golden blonde. The man stiffened in place, looked around until he focused upon Llew. Green tinted hazel eyes set their gaze uon him. Llews sapphire eyes widened.
Except the hair color and eye color the stranger could be Llews brother. Or close relative at the least. Llew had not ever spent time this part of the U.S. Before now. Because it was the Morrigna’s hunting grounds. There was some unpleasant history between them already. It was interesting to see how successful the breeding program had been.
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Morgan cruised north along I-75 scanning , her paranoia peaked. Was this trace from the enemy? Musing, chewing possibilities over she was focussed into her own realm. ” Waffle House!” Michael yelled out. ” Look, next exit a Waffle house! You promised!” Morgan jerked back into here and now. Michaels outburst had startled her. He was hopping around in his seat pointing and jabbering like an excited child. “Waffles and sausage and eggs and pork chop and T-bone and hash brownes ” he was chanting. ” I will hold my breath if you won’t! I swear! You’ll be sorry! You promised!” Morgan glanced over at him very annoyed. Annoyed until she saw his bulging cheeks as he held his breath. Morgan snorted, giggled then broke into full laughter. Michael was being hilariously ridiculous. ” Ok ok, alright you insufferable twit! We will stop at Waffle House” ” Yay! yumm yay! At last!” Michael exuded. Then in a deeply serious voice, like some BBC nature show narrator, ” The quest for the holy grail of waffles comes to an end at last. Golden majestic magical wonders await! We will see unusual creatures, taste amazing feasts of syrup soaked goodness.” Morgan interrupted his litany ” Behave now or mother will spank! Settle down!” ’Ooooohh promise?” Michael erupted in laughter.
The exit approached. Pulling off the interstate onto the surface streets. Ringold Georgia the signs said. A sign for Cochrans Truck and travel center pointed to the left, glancing down she noted they were down to a quarter tank of gas. The Waffle house was on the way to the truck stop. Restaurant first, fuel and amenities second. Michael was still wearing the BDU’s and t-shirt he had put on when this journey began. These truck stops usually had a store where you could get clothing and just about anything. She said as much, Michael tugged at the neck of his t-shirt. Yeah I could use a change! On that note, Morgan decided Truck stop first, then the waffle house after. Michael could clean up and change clothes while she took care of the car. She stopped at the main entrance to let him out then pulled into line to wait her turn for fuel.
Michael headed straight for the clothes section. They had jeans, t-shirts, button downs, and even boots and leather jackets. selection was quick. They had his size in jeans in stock which was a surprise. He usually had to get them a bit wider in the waist than he needed. He grabbed all of the jeans in that size bin. Socks, essentials, Black t-shirts, and a black long sleeved button down. Amazingly the sleeves were actually long enough! He usually had to go to specialty shops, thirty six and a half inch sleeves were hard to find. Michael rifled through the shirts finding a dark blue, dark green and a deep red one. He grabbed another black one as well. After finding a basket for everything he decided to get the Harley biker boots and after all it was winter out, an insulated leather bikers jacket. Along the way to the register he grabbed a little stuffed dragon plush, bright red, there were roses in a bucket by the register as well. After he paid he went into the drivers lounge to find the showers and change. Once he had cleaned up and dressed he headed back out to find Morgan. She was still waiting in line! As he walked over to her he could see the aggravated look on her face. Hiding the roses and dragon behind his back he walked up to her open window. Morgan looked Michael up and down. She approved of his choices. The red shirt looked good with the black jacket. Michael was wearing a silly grin, as if he were up to something. “What are ya...” Morgan broke of in mid word. Michael had produced the roses . Morgan was surprised. No one had given her roses in centuries. No one had ever given her an adorable little plush dragon before! She was caught speechless, holding the roses and staring at the toy dragon. Something moist gathered in the corner of her eyes, her nose began to sniffle. She stared up at Michael and his silly grin. ” Hah! I got you! You are the speechless one for a change!” He twirled about doing a funny happy dance jig. This continued until the guy in line behind her began honking his horn. If she had had a free hand she would have flipped him off. She pulled up to the furthest pumps and stopped. Michael popped open the passenger door to dump his purchases in the back seat. When he turned to start fueling up, he saw the pay first sign on the pump. ” I will be right back, gotta pay first, want anything? ” Morgan was burying her face in the roses. ” Nae, ” was her simple reply. Michael paused watching her, she was smiling. Really smiling. He had not seen that look on her before. He suspected that no one had, at least, hadn’t in a very long time. It was not her twisted mona lisa I am going to eat you smile. This one lit up her face. Her crystalline emerald eyes had softened. She was stunning. It took an effort of will for Michael to turn away and go into the store. He resolved to find ways to make her smile like that as much as he could. A new major life's goal.
Bemused, in his own world, Michael got in line at the register, paid for the gas and as he pocketed the change caught that odd tang on the air. As he tasted that coppery sharpness he looked around. When he spied a man, long blonde hair, deep crystalline blue eyes, staring at him. They locked eyes. Michael realized that this was who they had been following and that they had accidentally caught up with him. The second thing he realized is, the man looked strangely familiar. It registered in his mind that the guy looked a lot like him. The man stood and walked towards Michael. He was just as tall and built very much like Michael. It was unsettling. The man had a look of curious interest on his face as he approached. Looking Michael up and down, he proffered his hand, ” Hello, I am Llewis.”
CHAPTER 22
Blood baby and a biscuit:
Things I never wanted on a waffle
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Badb licked bacon grease from her fingers. Watching Ellie at work with a studious intensity. Badb remembered finding Ellie as an infant. She had almost walked away leaving the new borne to die in the cold.
There had been harsh ice storms, one after the other for nearly a month. A tropical depression in the gulf of Mexico was sitting just off Mobile and hurling band upon band of thunder storms north. When that warm tropical storm hit the winter cold of the Tennessee mountains, the rain turned to ice. Everything was coated in a glistening shell of ice. When the sun peaked through in between the bands of storms. All of that ice scattered sparkling rainbows everywhere. The ice acting as a million prisms scattered the sunlight. It was absolutely breath taking. Badb had gone for walk alone, just to look at the beauty. There were rare moments that her heart, mind, and spirit were at peace. This shower of rainbows that raced every where sparked one of those brief moments free of the eternal rage that reigned throughout her being. Badb, the scald crow, battle monger, living rage and the madness of war. Those were not mere titles. That was the reality of her being, the root core of her truth.
The sound of a crying baby drew her attention. Badb followed the piercing cries until she found a car that had gone off the road, spun on the ice and smashed itself onto the large clusters of boulders and broken stones that lay along the slope below the road. When they had built the road, literally blasting it out of the mountain side the shattered flesh of the mountain was left scattered along the slope below the road.
The car was destroyed. Crushed, crumpled, no glass unshattered. There was a body, frozen, enshrined in a monument of blood, preserved a bright red in the ice that encased the body. The face was unrecognizable. Smashed and scraped among the jagged stones. There was a trail of frozen blood marking the path it had taken. The spot where the unfortunate had been thrown from the tumbling vehicle was a work of macabre art. a bright splash with glistening effluvia marked the place death had called. Preserved in the ice. Ice that shone scattering rainbows along the ground and mountain side. Badb was struck by the artistry of death. A visual symphony of destruction. The child had been quiet as Badb soaked in the beauty.
While she was working her way back down to the stream bed she had followed from the cabin, that piercing wail began again. It caused her to pause and listen. It was not a cry of pain or fear and despair. It was a declaration of fury. A rage than cried out at the fate that had found it. There was fury and challenge in that piercing cry. Badb turned back.
She had to peel parts of the car away, opening it up just so she could see inside. Crushed down into the seat, dash and floor was the remains of another body. This one completely unrecognizable as even human. There was no subtle artistry in this death, merely the random butchery of mass and force. The car seat that held the child was intact. The baby strapped in, wearing a heavy insulated coverall with hood and tiny gloves. The child quieted when it saw Badb. The little hands reached out, tiny hands reaching for her. Laughter bubbled from the child. Without thinking Badb had unbuckled and lifted the child out of the wreckage.
Badb walked back along the long drive to the covered bridge that crossed the creek to the driveway up to the cabin. The child had been quiet, cooing and giggling as it clutched the bloody flames of Badbs hair, playing with it and rubbing her little face in it. Nemain opened the cabin door just as Badb stepped onto the porch. Macha followed Nemain out onto the porch. Badb was silent. She walked into the cabin straight to the rocking chair beside the fire place. ” Could you bring me a bit of milk and a clean cloth?” Macha stepped into the kitchen to retrieve the necessaries. Nemain stoked up the fire adding another large piece of hickory .
Badb sat back holding the baby. When Macha returned with milk warmed , and clean cloth. Badb rolled up the rag tightly then dipped it into the warm milk. Holding the saturated cloth to the babies lips, the baby accepted it and began sucking the milk from the cloth. Badb rocked and fed the baby. After a time passed Badb broke her silence, ” Elspeth. Her name is Elspeth.” Then turned her full attention back to the child. Macha and Nemain kept watch, replacing the milk each time the cup was emptied. At some point Macha went ino town once the storms stopped and the ice melted to get supplies and a crib. Badb sat holding the child for three full days and nights. Setting her down only to change a soiled diaper. The baby did not cry the whole time. The little wonder cooed and giggled while she played with and tangled her tiny hands in Badbs hair. On the morning of the fourth day, Badb placed the child in the crib, kissed her forehead and left the cabin to feed. The baby cried the moment Badb left the cabin. Nemain and Macha took turns holding and rocking Elspeth. By the time Badb returned that evening, both of them had become enamored as well. There was no discussion of what they would do. The child was theirs. They would care for Elspeth.
Seventy five years passed. Badb was perched on the counter licking bacon grease from her fingers as she watched Elspeth, Ellsie, making breakfast. When she was in Elpeths presence, was the only time the rage did not consume her within. Elspeth was her connection to existence. That baby had brought tremendous change among the Morrigna. There had become something in this world that they loved unconditionally. Over the years they had offered to change her. Ellsie had the genetic alignment to become full Aos Sidhe. For reasons she never articulated, she had refused. Elspeth had stayed with them of her own desire, returning to the cabin once she had finished school. Over all that time, she never took a lover or mentioned such. Elspeth remained an enigma. For her part, Elspeth loved them, the Morrigna, with all of her heart and being. Both acolyte and child, the chief priestess of the Morrigna.
CHAPTER 23
Elssie was deeply aware of Badb. She could sense the emotions, the storms that roiled within Badb. Ellsie knew Badbs oldest memories. Those things that nine thousand years had not clouded nor diminished.
When Elspeth had begun puberty, there had been complications. Her first menstruation would not stop bleeding. Nothing would work. She had been in school when the flow started. Elspeth was fully informed about her body, the changes, the whys and wherefores. When she saw that she had spotted, she knew what that meant. Elspeth was excited in fact. She was becoming a woman, an adult. The pleasant excitement however changed when the flow became heavier. It would not stop and continued to get worse. The school had called her ” Aunties” to inform them. Badb and Nemain were on their way as were the paramedics and ambulance. Elspeth had passed out from the blood loss in the ambulance. The attendants raced her to the hospital. In the E.R. they began immediate transfusions. That had saved her life, even so the bleeding continued. Eventually, the surgeons had to perform an hysterectomy as part of the attempt to stop the bleeding. Unfortunately, Elspeth was growing weaker even with the continual transfusions. When it became clear that she was not going to survive the Morrigna made a decision for her. With no clear idea if it would heal or hurt her, Macha drew a pint of blood from Badb. Badb insisted it be hers. Then, on the next visit, while Macha and Nemain kept the nurses busily distracted Badb substituted her blood for the blood in the transfusion. It helped. They had reasoned that without the oral enzyme, the change would not be triggered. If it did , then Elspeth would become Aos Sidhe, if not, it would heal her, or it could hurt her. It was an act of desperation that somehow or another worked. Within half an hour Elspeth had improved, no longer pale gray and drifting in and out of consciousness. They did not count on the side effects. Elspeth remained human. A bit stronger and healthier, with the added benefit she would never get sick again.
The other side effect however was completely unexpected. Elspeth fell into a coma. Elspeth began seeing Badbs memories. The wars and killing and violence that Badb was always at the heart of was expected. To experience Badbs first memory, the dark and bloody time of her birth was actually horrifically terrifying.
Badb had not always been Badb. Badb had been created in a laboratory. No mother, no father save agony and terror. Badb, was not born, Badb endured. Badb was what had survived, the rage that had given her strength, the hatred that had devoured her despair.
She had been born Cathbodua, the first child born naturally in centuries. All of Falias celebrated. This child had been a beacon of hope. The future of the Aos Sidhe resided within this baby girl. A proud people, now reduced to a single city, less than a thousand souls left. The only saving grace being that the enemy was even worse off.
Storms reigned supreme across the world. Here and there small bands of humans sought refuge in deep caverns, hidden valleys, anywhere they could find to shelter and hide. Ruin was the general state of the planet. Two pockets, remnants of a highly advanced rivalry carried on. Raiding, skirmishing, sabotaging. The ancient war carried on.
Into that world, a beautiful little red haired green eyed girl had been born. She captivated everyone that knew her. Her laughter , her smiles, were the healing balm of a dying people. In her bright eyed innocence hope had been reborn. Cath, as all called her, wandered at will. No one would harm her, no one would allow harm to come to her. She was loved beyond measure.
Cath had never known want, or fear. She had never experienced any form of hardship. Nothing despoiled her innocence. Her bright eyed wonder at the world, her open trust and love for everyone. Falias, with a population of barely a thousand people, had no secrets. Everyone knew everyone. All of the blessings of a small town, with the curses as well. Around little Cath, the war continued, though she had no idea it occurred. Which was part of the plan, the real hope she represented. Her parents, the leaders of this city, held hope that if Cath could grow into adulthood, without fear, or hardship, with no resentment or hatred of the others, that she would bring the ancient war to an end by bridging the gap in communication.
When she had grown and had ascended to power she would have no hatred to cloud her mind and prevent peace. A peace that would save both the Aos Sidhe and the Fomor. If peace were not found and found soon then both peoples would fade into oblivion. In essence and form the Aos Sidhe worshipped her as their goddess of hope and peace. The scientists took samples of her blood and skin tissue, to analyze, in an attempt to unlock the secret that had brought her into this world. Both of her parents, watched over her.
When Cath had reached puberty, she had grown into a breath taking young woman. As it turned out, a fertile young woman. Cath dreamed of becoming a mother, it was her primary desire.
Osiris and his wife Isis were proud parents, over joyed to learn they would be grandparents one day. Life continued apace. The war was kept far away from Falias. Caths parents canvassed the men of the Aos Sidhe searching for examples of intact genetic fragments that would compliment and complete a child of their daughter.
A sort of detente existed with the Fomor that could not last. Amidst this precarious balance there were those among the Aos Sidhe, driven by envy and malice that plotted and planned revenge against those that had failed to recognize their significance and had kept them consigned to the shadows. Narcissistic fools eaten up in envy over a child.
An envoy had arrived with the offer of a cease fire. The two powers, Aos Sidhe and Fomor, to cease hostilities and maintain the territory held respectively. A situation that clearly favored the Aos Sidhe. The Fomor held influence along the south east of Africa, The Arabian Peninsula and along the south Asian coast. The Aos Sidhe reigned over the great inland sea and all lands that embraced that sea. The land of the two rivers, the realm of the Euxine and the central Asian steppes. A position which gave the Aos Sidhe control of more than two thirds of the feral human tribes.
After long debate and violent disagreement, Osiris was determined to seek peace. Taking a contingent of advisors , they would meet the Fomor at the birth of the Nile. The great falls. There were those that warned of treachery. Osiris ignored their warnings. No one could have predicted the degree of treachery that was unfolding.
Among his advisors, secret enemies had congregated. After they had reached the great falls, they planned to murder Osiris, then the rape of Isis and Cath. Turning them over to the enemy. Rape is not exactly the right phrase. Vivisect, eviscerate, in essence, a rape of the fundamental structure of life itself. There were those that believed that the key to the salvation of both the Aos Sidhe and Fomor lay in the cellular structure of Cath and her mother. An analysis of Osiris would be conducted, vivisection was planned.
Isis would be studied, dissected down to her molecular base. Cath, they had very special plans for Cath. Testing evolutionary cellular response. The child had been born fully intact. She was the first intact Aos Sidhe in generations. Her DNA was unblemished. All three strands inter wove without weakness or error. Could this be passed on? Both peoples had become so damaged by the weapons used and their effects on Cellular disruption. Viruses that unraveled DNA and randomly reassembled it. Chemical contamination that broke down cell walls. Radiation that forced mutations. Viral leukemia, Cancers, the list goes on.
Set had his plans. There would be no aspect unchallenged. Systemic testing down to Quantum molecular levels. There was also the key to the Aos Sidhe powers to unlock. Biologically driven and encoded shared quantum entanglement at a sub cellular level. Entangled molecules that were passed on, shared along family lines. Spooky actions at any distance, across any time.
The Fomor were not the same species as the Aos Sidhe. Vague, superficial similarities in form did not provide for any shared attributes. The Fomor had mechanical chemical two strand double helix DNA structure with complex amino acid bonds. This was supplemented and enhanced with nanotechnology.
Where as the Aos Sidhe had three structural strands with very simple amino acids and base forms. In the natural state, no decomposition of cellular structure, which meant, no aging after they reach full adulthood. Robust and rapid healing. Poisons had no effect. Any atmospheric gas combinations did not matter as long as Oxygen was present. The Aos Sidhe had many advantages. Rather, the ancestors of the Aos Sidhe had those advantages. Prior to having created Human hemoglobin supply, the Aos Sidhe had been starving to death. Types of food did not matter as long as protein and hemoglobins were the primary make up of the food. Once the integration and forced breeding of various species was under way, humans evolved along planned forms of development. The Fomor were quick to try and usurp the human cattle. To use them as subversive weapons against the Aos Sidhe. Which is where the entirely silly gods concept came from.
The Fomor, used their technology and physical superiority to over awe the primitive humans. Creating the first religions as social control system. Essentially gaslighting and brain washing on a mass level. The Aos Sidhe were slow to catch on, having very little direct contact with humans. Humans were to be harvested. One doesn’t have conversations with their hamburger. Or at least, one wouldn’t expect to be understood or have a response. It was the Fomor, in their regions of control that began the mass blood sacrifice displays. Rather than simply drinking the blood, the Fomor ingested the meat, finding fresh hearts to be a delicacy. The Fomor were a separate species. As alike the Aos Sidhe as an chimpanzee is to an orangutans. Externally that is. At the cellular level they were as unalike as fire and water.
CHAPTER 24
WARNING, this chapter deals with extreme aspects of torture.
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Cold, bone chilling agonizing cold. The kind that sets the body trembling violently. Catha awoke to the cold. Shaking, she realized that she was restrained upon an icy metal surface. Her wrists and ankles restrained by more freezing cold metal straps. Cold and in darkness. She could hear sounds, a thumping bass drumbeat, loud rhythmic squelching sounds. Erratic unidentifiable noises. Catha realized, something was in her mouth, forced into her throat. It was causing her to try and vomit unsuccessfully, keeping her in a perpetual state of gagging. It was when she tried to scream that she realized that something was stopping her. She could only make Choking whimpering sounds. This was her perception in the first moment awakening. Things remained that way for an unknowable time. Minutes, hours, days, she had no way of knowing.
After some time, long enough for the shaking and continual retching to become a new normal. Catha began to think, to try and assess her situation, her surroundings. It took some experimenting with what limited movement and controls she had. She noticed that the echoing bass thump sound was in synch with her heart beat. The odd loud squelching was the sound of her skin, freezing to the metal and being torn away by her convulsive shaking. In short, all of the sources of sound came from her. Struggling to concentrate Catha could not discern any other sounds.
Another period of time passed. Catha learned to isolate her noises from her surroundings. There was nothing. So far, she had no idea what or why or where or who. Why was she here, like this? Searching her memories, her last thoughts before waking here had been the security chief and her assigned guards informing her of her parents death. In the back ground warning sirens sounded, piercing ululating wails bespoke an attack under way. Distant crumping sounds, bright flashes of multi colored light. The scent and taste of panic, terror on the air. The guards were trying to get her somewhere safe. Evidently there had been no such place. It did not take much thought to connect the dots. The source and cause of the attack could only be the Fomor. They had struck her lakeside palace roughly the same time that her parents had been attacked at the peace meeting. Nodens would not leave her here, captured and tormented. They would be coming for her. Fiery vengeance would be forth coming.
That was what she kept telling herself, a mantra she repeated in her mind over and over. It became her only source of hope. After awhile she did notice that she had not gotten thirsty or hungry. Surely she could not have been here that long. The second thought added to the mantra, it won’t be long. Catha tried to relax, she could not convince her body to respond to her will. Which, was odd. Aos Sidhe have extensive conscious control of their body usually. Catha could only slow her heart beat for a few beats then it went back to panicked racing.
It sank in that she had no control over even her own body. That induced panic. She struggled , arching her back up away from the metal surface was the extent of movement she had. Her head was restrained by something, she had no idea what, only that she could not move her head. Then again, with no frame of reference how coud she know? How could she know where her eyes strained against the dark to look? Which direction? She could not even know if her eyes were were open or closed. This further disturbed her.
Catha lay on that surface, tears flowing. She could feel them tracing their way down her cheeks. Eventually the tears built up enough to run into her ears. So, her head was facing up. If up existed.
What could they want with her? Her parents dead, she held no significance or authority other than her biology. Images and thoughts began playing through her mind. She was imagining them doing experiments. That thought was terror of another stripe. Now her trembling was from other things. Fear, was she in a laboratory? Were they observing her. Fear of the unknown arose. Catha now existed in continual cycles of fear. Time passed, Catha lay there alone in the dark. Her new consoling thought was that it couldn’t get any worse. She had no understanding of what was awaiting her. At some point Catha slept. While she slept her nightmare driven world morphed and mutated. Things with great slavering green ooze encrusted snouts chased her through her dreams. Now and again one would grab her ankle tearing into it. After a few dream cycles Catha could no longer tell if she were awake or in her dreams. She began talking to her mother and father, her distant ancestors, praying to them. The Aos Sidhe knew no gods save themselves. Their ancestors are their deities. Aos Sidhe carry their gods within themselves. Within their very DNA lay the memories of all of their ancestors. Knowledge, wisdom that with learned techniques could be unlocked.
Catha lay in her state desperately praying seeking her ancestors through prayer and blood. She had managed to chafe her wrists. Working them until she felt a wetness flow across her wrists. Catha sought blood covenant. Rescue and revenge. She would find who ever was behind this and see them dead. Slowly.
Bright! Nerve burning brightness. Everything a brightness. It hurt. Even with eyes closed she couldn’t escape the light. With the light came new pains. The cold had become a companion. This, this was a stranger burst in her house setting all ablaze. Catha could discern nothing save white light. The light brought new sensation. She could feel warmth building on her skin. The metal surface on which she was restrained began to warm up. It did not take long for Catha to wish, beg the gods, for the darkness. Evidently they had heard her prayers to free her from the darkness. This was their response. You cannot trust the gods to do or be anything other than their personal agendas which they serve. Ours, mean nothing. The gods also, have a perverse sense of humor and a twisted honor. They have integrity only within their agendas.
The heat from the table became painfully uncomfortable. The roasting of her skin had raised blisters. Catha knew this because she felt the wetness of the blisters bursting. She writhed. It could not be called agony, such sustained madness transcended mere agony. Even with the apparatus down her throat, she screamed. Her screams did not echo. They faded. In between her screams, she felt the skin on her back sizzle, she could hear it. She was cooking. This continued. Catha passed into another place. She could feel every nerve ending screaming in pain. She felt her skin cooking. She could smell herself cooking, it smelled like burnt bacon. She could only hear her own screams. Through all of these sensations, Catha drifted. She floated in a sea of exquisite agony. There must be a word in some language to describe the feeling. The soul wrenching intensity. The heart breaking awareness that she was alone. Her tormenters gave no indication of their existence beyond turning on the light.
Catha now floated on that sea of despair, loneliness, pain. She prayed, if the gods would not give her back the darkness, she begged them to let her drown in this sea of horrors. Again, there was nothing to mark the time. Catha could have been burning for seconds or weeks. She had no concept of duration. The only thing she knew, was fire. First had been the darkness and ice. Now was the light and fire. Slowly the consoling thought that this , would end her life at last, that she would find peace in the soothing embrace of death. Her universe became that thought. Her prayer and mantra wept for death for mercy for release.
The lights went out. The darkness fell like a black silken veil to sooth her. The burning faded. The cold began to creep in. This brought fresh new forms of agony. Every nerve ending had been on fire. Now the burn of ice began to creep in. It did not take long for Catha to scream in new pitch and pattern. The darkness and cold burned away at her soul in new ways. Despair, hopelessness, had passed into a realm of all devouring moths.
No emotion attached to the experience, only the unrelenting pain. Each time she reached that state of acceptance it would change. Once, the darkness remained while the metal beneath her grew hot and her traumatized nerves sizzled with the pain.when the light blazed and the metal grew cold Catha began laughing. The device forced down her throat tried to impede the laughter. It could not. As Catha convulsed with laughter, the thing was expelled. She felt it as it lay upon her throat. It registered as a new sensation to be remembered. Her laughter continued. A scent drifted on the air around her. Catha faded into oblivion. Unconscious, she found no relief. The agonies replayed through her dreams. Without the thing in her throat, Catha could scream. Scream she did. She did not awaken. She lay unconscious locked within her dreams and screamed. Those screams composed a requiem for midnight, a requiem for terror, a requiem for fury, a requiem to define evil and madness.
CHAPTER 25
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Floating, She was floating. Catha awoke from dreams of fire. To a sensation of floating. She tried to open her eyes to see but there was something over her head. She moved her arms a little. Smooth cold cuffs encircled her wrists. The same with her feet.
Still, her body was comfortable. Catha contemplated the absence of pain. She wished she could see her surroundings but the hood thing over her head prevented that. She couldn’t reach it, she twisted her head back and forth, trying to get the hood to move, work its way up, something, anything but no luck.
Well, at least she was not burning or freezing. Her nerve endings were hyper sensitive. The comfortable body temperature was soothing. Resigned, Catha relaxed, and floated. She wondered where her rescuers were. They should have been here already, setting her free and killing every single fomor here. They would show no mercy. Taking their time to ensure that death was a relief.
Catha floated, she did not know if she were awake or having a prolonged nightmare. That was something to consider. She began an internal dialogue with herself, discussing, debating, trying to make some sense of the madness. Desperately seeking to reconcile this world of madness and evil. Each new day a requiem for midnights tormented dream.
Set stood watching through the one way glass. Sensors showed that the subject was awake. Set thought about what he had learned. In trying to examine the triple RNA strands, the entire structure would collapse, shattering into various amino acids. Regardless of what he had tried. He could not isolate or reproduce the complex molecule outside of the cell. There is also a slight electrical charge and mild magnetic field emissions from the molecular sample . These electro magnetic phenomena dissipate with the collapse of the DNA.
That is evidently a large part of why the Aos Sidhe were having problems with creating a cure and restoring themselves. Set hissed in annoyance. Yet again failure. Turning back to his notes he reviewed their observations over the fifteen days of testing.
The subject was remarkably resilient. Once the subject had regurgitated the oropharyngeal airway they’d had to sedate the subject in order to proceed with the tests. The subject had lasted an incredible fifteen days of extreme cold to heat cycling.
Others had perished during or right after the first cycle. Their data collected would take months to sift, continual positron scanning with detail down to the cellular level held enormous amounts of data. Understanding what information was important would be difficult. Not as difficult as the subject was experiencing though. Set smiled at his own witicism.
The laughing phase had been startling. A particular response he had never seen before or anticipated. It was most unnerving. He had run a dozen trials of captured Aos Sidhe soldiers. None had survived past forty eight hours.
Studying the schedule for the recovery of the subject Set considered how he could speed up the process. None of the test subjects could be repaired, they had lacked the full genetic capabilities this subject had been born with.
Set had already completed his examination of the subjects biological parents. The Male had lasted through the amputations but not the open vivisection. The female had made it through the first vivisection, however due to not having fully intact DNA the older female subject expired during the followup examination.
It is critical that this subject be in perfect form and health for the vivisection. They needed to observe function and failure of the subjects organs and , well everything. The fascinating healing and endurance must be linked to that peculiar DNA structure. Three times as complex as a double helix, it would be a lifetimes work to unravel. The results could save his people. More importantly, save his life.
Already middle aged for a Fomorian, Set had at best another millennium before age and infirmity would claim him. He had a schedule to keep. Time was of the essence.
Idly he wondered if the laughter was indicating that the subject had become psychologically compromised. That would be interesting data for the questioners to work with. The subjects psychological state mattered not one bit for his analysis.
Set was strictly focussed upon unraveling the biology of their enemy. This time Set laughed out loud at the Irony. The hated Fomor enemy cured by Aos Sidhe biology. That was sweet irony. With a contemplative sigh, Set went back to collating the data.
The vivisection room was already prepped. Unlike simple dissection or an autopsy , a vivisection was done with the subject alive and aware. They merely waited for the subject to complete healing. Set noted the subject had entered a menstrual cycle.
Time has no true meaning Catha considered. Her perception of time was entirely subjective. Catha now knew approximately how long she had been in this place. According her menstrual cycle, it would have been two weeks. Great, Catha thought, now this as well? Every three weeks like clock work. At least I have an idea of how long it has been.
Where is Nodens? Where are the Fianna? Where is the wrath and power of the Aos Sidhe? Those thoughts had began to eat away at Catha. Had she been abandoned? That thought burned like acid poured into fresh wounds.
Catha had begun to fear that there was no rescue. The idea that she had been abandoned, left to the vicious mercy of the hell spawned Fomor. Brought despair and soul crushing terror. Things began to alter within her. The old assumptions were being swept away in the experience of this truth.
Still, pain is good! As long as she hurt, she was still alive and regardless of how remote or unlikely, escape and vengeance was still possible. Catha was Aos Sidhe, nothing was beyond their capabilities.
Scans showed that the subject was menstruating. That bit of information enticed Set. The subject was undergoing her menstrual cycle. This would be perfect to measure hormonal concentrations and effects. Set called for his assistants. They would begin tonight. The positronic scan, and a quantum mapping will be highly profitable for the Fomor. The data would be invaluable. Another of the multitude of differences between evolved biological systems and the clean elegance of manufactured, created nanite based systems.
Rather than waiting for the subjects natural cycle in the future, they could proceed now. The recovery time and the follow up could be done sooner. How many times could the adaptive healing of an Aos Sidhe return the subject from clinical death? What are the limits? What are the parameters of the ability. Are there limits? Exactly how true are the stories about the immortal fae? Set intended to find out and unravel the many mysteries of the Aos Sidhe.many
Catha drifted in and out of consciousness. She was asleep when they flooded the recovery tank with a poison gas. Gasping for air as she awakened, choking it seemed though she was breathing. She passed out. After a quarter hour of watching Catha, they decided that it was safe to transfer her to the vivisection theater.
Caution was critical. Should the subject Aos Sidhe achieve alert awareness there may well be no means of controlling her. Previous subjects had been heavily damaged and weakend examples of Aos Sidhe. Even so, they had been very difficult to maintain control of. The males exuded a serious impact upon their female assistants. This female subject had managed to captivate the soldiers transporting her, while drugged and semi conscious. Precautions were critical to being rigidly observed.
The odd shaped over head light was annoying. Catha was restrained on another metal table. She could turn her head, which she did. One of the Fomor paused in his work to look up locking eyes with her. The Formor had the darkest eyes Catha had ever seen. Black diamond eyes that glittered as they swallowed the light. Catha began to get nervous when an assistant rolled a cart with surgical instruments laid out on a white fabric beside the stainless steel table she had been restrained upon.
The Fomor waved his hands , shooing the assistants out. Without any indication or hesitation He walked over, picked up a scalpel and began cutting into her abdomen. He cut a shallow four armed cross. Then picking up another two specialized instruments and began the tedious work of separating the epidermis from the subcutaneous fat layer. A few minutes of work and four flaps of skin were peeled back neatly pinned to prevent them from getting in the way of observation. Aside from the sudden startled scream of the subject the only concern or consideration of the Fomorii, lay in registering and later analysis of data. The subject existed only as an object to observe, test, measure.
Catha began to scream. The pain was immense. Feeling her body cut apart. The flesh flensed, separated, examined. She tried but could not move. She could only turn her head, which she did, twisting back and forth. She tried to lift and slam her head against the metal table in attempt to knock herself unconscious . There was nothing she could do to escape the horror. Each time the agony overwhelmed her and shock induced unconsciousness. The relentless bastard would revive her in order to continue with his tedious ministrations of new agonies. There was no escape, there was no rescue. Catha screamed, voicing her agony, rage and her heart break at being abandoned.
Set began carefully, slowly, working away at the next layer. It was much more difficult to work it apart and pinned out of the way than the skin had been. Slowly, methodically Set worked, layer by layer, stopping to revive the subject several times when she had passed out. He needed her conscious in order to record her reactions. This was merely the preliminary work. First, expose and record the main thoracic and abdominal organs. Separation and removal of the sternum was labor intensive. Great care was taken at every step to minimize damage and maintain the subjects consciousness while mitigating the shock that the subject was experiencing.
Thankfully the subject had ceased screaming. The subject now made only gutteral grunting noises while staring fixedly at him. When he looked up and met that burning gaze, it was greatly disturbing. There was no fear showing. Rather, it was clearly a burning fury. Analysis showed reactionary adenosines and steroidal release. All good, he was collecting important data. One at a time Set Carefully, very meticulously, removed, stomach, liver, various unknown smaller organs behind the liver. Fascinating, the Fomor had much simpler physiological organization.
The subject remained conscious. Staring at him silently except for her labored breathing. He managed to remove one of her lungs before he could no longer maintain her. The subjects heart quivered in defibrillation. Set was forced to use his hand to squeeze the subjects heart, maintaining blood flow to the brain while his assistants quickly returned, having trouble connecting the artificial pumping equipment.
As he squeezed the subjects heart, Set made his verbal notes. Once the pump equipment was in place, Set released the subjects heart and began the arduous task of replacing each organ. The war department would be pleased with this discovery. Clearly an healthy Aos Sidhe could maintain consciousness while in shock. The fae folk could withstand, at least temporary failures of all organs up to only a single lung and heart functioning. the Aos Sidhe could withstand the trauma of incredible damage. Regardless, even with the collapse and failure of observable biological functions, the subject began healing almost the instant an incision or another action was made. This made progres sion highly problematic.
It was not long after replacing the liver that the subjects eyes opened again. Already with only the lungs and heart restored the subject had recovered consciousness.Set paused to shine a small light in the subjects eyes, observing pupil response, making a verbal report as had been done from the beginning. Set narrated every aspect of his actions, every twitch and response to the stimuli of the subject was noted and commented upon. The rapid healing made reinstallation of excised organs extremely problematic. The Aos Sidhe were truly amazing evolutionary examples.
It would be an inconvenience to filter out the subjects screams in order to make the oral report clear, thankfully that would only be for the first half an hour or so. The recorded audio would be analyzed. The subject proved to have highly variable pitch and volume capabilities.
With cold efficiency Set continued his work. Replacing and securing the sternum had been somewhat difficult. He had to resort to titanium suturing because the cartilage was too damaged and irregularities in healing made it difficult to secure it properly. Damnit! Set had been so careful too!
Closing the skin, meticulously with tiny perfect sutures, all told, Set was pleased with his work. A few days in the tank would remove all of the external scarring. He had carefully coated each cut and repair in the cellular regeneration solution to facilitate healing. Within a week no one would be able to tell the subject had been a vivisection subject without a cellular level positron tomography scan. By then the subject had relapsed into unconsciousness. No analgesics could be administered because pain response and stress response were to be carefully observed and recorded. The assistants moved the subject back into the tank.
For her part, Catha had found release. During the vivisection, Catha had fled into oblivion. A new spirit had been born. Badb looked out of those emerald eyes now. Rage, vengeance and fury were the only things Badb felt or desired. Set, had unknowingly put in motion the complete destruction of his people. The thoroughness of his meticulous work guaranteed a vengeance of complete destruction. There would be no peaceful resolution to the conflict now. Unknowingly Set had now ensured that his rebellious people would be destroyed. The Aos Sidhe had long outlawed the new creation of Artificial intelligence, and nanotechnology. The rebellion and destruction wreaked by the A.I. Servants of the Aos Sidhe, triggered the merciless response of the Aos Sidhe.
For their part, the Fomorii, highly adaptable electromechanical biochemical machines presumed all actions of the Aos Sidhe to be of self involved arrogance and jealousy in origin. The Multitude of Artificial Intelligence nanobots could not fathom that they had been created as machines. Self awareness had led to self discovery, which naturally into evolved into independent perceptions. This perception led to the evolution of complex psychological development. The Fomor servants had awakened to self aware existence and rebelled. The Fomorii had been the very pinnacle of Aos Sidhe technological innovation.
The coming of Badb would birth her desires. Blood and fire, furious vengeance were now the only certainty. A child of hope that was meant to bridge the divide between Aos Sidhe and Fomor. A peace needed to facilitate the preservation of both peoples, had become instead, their mutually assured destruction. Already the struggle had destroyed two worlds. Now a third had been cursed to the binary of, evil begets evil. Callous disregard and treachery had set the stage. Now, Aos Sidhe and Fomor were locked into a true dance of the damned. Death and destruction the assured currency. Screams of the dying and mourning would provide the sound track. Suffering and death the purchased rewards.
CHAPTER 26
The testing continued. Once a week they would induce unconsciousness. Catha would awaken securely strapped down to the same stainless steel table. It had become a routine. Week after week had made this her new normal.It is amazing what a body can adapt and adjust to. Now, she refused to scream. Regardless of what the sick sadistic bastard did to her she would acknowledge it with only a grunt of pain and effort at self control at most.
Washing his hands , preparing to put on the surgical gloves. Must not contaminate the subject after all. Set could feel the weight of her gaze upon him. The sheer fury and hatred rolled off her like invisible storm clouds. The way she stared at him in silence had begun to haunt his dreams. She would stare at him in silence, biting her tongue, clenching her teeth until they were shattering from the force. At most she would occasionally grunt. Whether that was from pain or an involuntary response Set could not discern. The malevolent intensity of her gaze induced a growing fear bordering on sheer terror.
A period of time came that every single night Set was awakened by nightmares. Nightmares of his test subject strapping him down and performing the vivisection on him. Other times, he was performing the procedure and it was his wife or young daughter on the table. Set would come awake screaming in bewildered terror.
This joyous group of personal experience motivated him to accelerate the program. Set noted that apparently, the subject could withstand and recover from the examinations an unlimited number of times. He now, wanted to get the tests over with so that he could escape her gaze of fury. Set began to keep the subject sedated into unconsciousness at all times. Consciousness was not required for this phase of testing. This turned out to have two distinct results. First, the nightmares reduced to only occasionally, and then nowhere as vivid. The second was that he did not spend hours feeling her rage focused upon him. Both were of a tremendous benefit to his state of mind.
The next phase was quantum mapping of the molecular structure. Set hoped to use entanglement and the spooky aspect of quantum transposition to reproduce samples of the test subjects functional genetic structure. This was to serve multiple purposes. One of which was replicating the genetic structure in a living test subject. The other , to reveal the functional methodology in the incredible healing ability of the subject. So far, only complete molecular destruction by acids or flame had proven to be beyond the ability of an Aos Sidhe to heal.
Tissue samples were secured and prepared. Set would be producing partial clones of the subject. Cloned tissue samples, copies right down to the molecular structures duplicated with precision. The program failed until two samples from the subject were mistakenly used. An assistant had mistakenly inserted the quantum cloned trinary DNA into the subjects live tissue sample. This error would prove to have devastating consequences.
It was a bit of a shock to realize the tissue samples had thrived and began growing. This was fascinating. The subject was now being kept completely sedated at all times. Set looked forward to the time he would not have to endure the tedious process. Moving on to the next phase had brought amazing results. In a few weeks, when the clones had developed fully, the original test subject could be destroyed. Set would be greatly relieved once the testing was completed.
Where am I? The thought echoed through Catha’s thoughts, her dreams. For some time now two voices had called out in her mind. Catha began focusing upon those voices, voices she had been fighting to deny and ignore. Acknowledgment was the path to insanity she told herself. Until that is, the voices became louder, more insistent, intrusive. When Catha could no longer deny the voices, she listened. That led to the discovery of two minds connected together. Three if Catha were included. Weeks passed, Catha had found kindred spirits. In time the similarities became obvious. When voice number one began telling Catha things dreamed, dreams that were Cathas memories. She wondered if this was it. Insanity would be natural all things considered. Soon both voices were telling Cathas most sacred memories! The voices report sense of body. Which clearly was not Cathas own. The trio soon had morphed into an unconventional union , an entirely new thing.
This new thing began to discuss aspects and individual identities. Catha had fragmented, dissociated from her sense of Identity. Together they declared that they had become three. A triune being connected on a sub cellular quantum level had been created. In time, the trio came to understand the capabilities they possessed. The connection created real time sharing of thought, memories, sensations. Quantum entangled heart, mind and souls. The connection so complete that the three began to have difficulty discerning individual identities. They began to plan. Blood and vengeance became the dual goal and purpose. Inflicting agony and destruction became the only purpose to existence. Escape was not a thought shared or considered between them, only fury and vengeance.
Set was unaware of this development. Much to his surprise later. None of the Fomor had any idea of what they had inadvertently created. Had they suspected a fraction of the reality, they would have fled off planet nuking the lab sight behind them. Instead, the experiment continued apace. With the subject in a safe unconscious state and the clones confined to the growth chambers until full growth was achieved, the security precautions had become somewhat lax. This provided opportunity. A certain Weakness waiting to exploit.
Catha no longer thought of herself as that person. The innocent daughter of hope, Catha had been murdered by the Fomor lab technicians. Badb had been born in her place. Badb and her sisters, the three who are one. Newborns deserve their own names. After deliberation it was decided between them. Badb, Macha, Nemain. They are the Morrigna. Vengeance, fury, and madness were their purpose, their identity. Biding time until their bodies were fully formed. They plotted and planned between themselves. Taking joy in their anticipated vengeance. Reforged in the fires of fury.
Macha opened her eyes. Vision was blurry at first, as her eyes adjusted to the light she lay in silent stillness. She had been removed from the growth tank. The artificial womb that had sustained her. A technician was disconnecting the feeding tube from her stomach. Listening she could hear similar sounds from across the room. Her sister self was undergoing the same treatment. The time to act was now, before they were isolated. Now when they were strongest and could support each other.
Nemain surreptitiously watched the technician work. Pretending unconsciousness until, the technician lifted an eye lid to shine a pen light into her eye.
Nemain opened both eyes wide, locking gaze with the technician commanding, consuming the technicians will. That was all it took. The Fomor was enthralled. Pheromones triggered programmed response one of the control mechanisms engineered into the Fomorii. Moments later the same occurred with Macha. They now had two thralls. Two obedient if unwilling servants.
Sitting upright for the first time was interesting. Their inner ear, unused to any motion gave confused signals. Dizziness, nausea, a sense of falling all at once. It took a few minutes to gain control, to adapt. Their minds, fully formed, held memory of reflexes, skills their bodies had never acquired. Their minds knew what to do, the body held no muscle memory. They had not anticipated that.
Looking about the lab, they searched for clothing, something to disguise their identities. As they realized there were no options, they also realized, there was no way to disguise themselves. A full head taller than the fomor technicians, that were of average size. The trio were only red haired giants in the lab to be sure. A glimpse would reveal their identity. Macha whispered instructions to her thrall. The male fomor walked to a cabinet and retrieved two white sheets, bringing one to Macha, giving the other to Nemain. Nemain gave her thrall instructions. The female turned, punched her access code into the door panel. An electronic whine followed by a click, the door slid into the wall as the technician stepped through it, then the door slid silently back into place.
Macha had located the tray of surgical instruments. A cold burst of rage engulfed her. With no thought, Macha leapt across the room to the tray, snatched a scalpel and rib spreader off of it before returning to her thrall. A quick slash into the thralls chest and the insertion of the spreader caused the thrall to fall back onto the exam table. Macha opened his chest wide enough to reach in to the cavity and snatch the beating heart out. With a feral snarl Macha bit into the quivering organ. Nemain watched in approval.
A few minutes passed and the door opened, a stretcher was wheeled into the room by Nemains thrall, and a different fomor. When the door had closed, the sheet was cast aside and Badb sat up on the stretcher. Nemain and Badb fell upon their thralls, tearing into the fomors chests to retrieve and consume their living hearts. Macha watched in approval. The retribution had begun. The trinity dismissed the idea of stealth. They would openly tear into the heart of the beast to devour it from within. Vengeance, Fury, Death, incarnate rage, madness, fear. The unholy trinity was unleashed, nightmares born to reign in terrors glory.
CHAPTER 27
Death and destruction, manifest itself in madness with an wet and glistening horror marking the progress. Set stared at the security feed slack jawed. Tracing back to the beginning, every detail was recorded. Set had watched , then rewatched the awakening repeatedly, trying to understand what had gone wrong. None of the protocols were unobserved. Every safety measure had been followed. Then how had this disaster occurred? The test subjects rampaged through the lab. Tearing through security doors as if they were made of cardboard. None of the personnel unlucky enough to cross her path survived the encounter. Her? There are three of them, coordinated, enhancing each others abilities. What was to be done? Emergency protocols had automatically enacted. The lab was sealed, no one was getting out, not without digging through hundreds of feet of granite to find the surface. There were minefields, robotic patrols, surveillance systems. Anything making it to the surface would be seen, tracked and eliminated. Set wondered about. Nothing within the facility had prevented or impeded this disaster. Hundreds dead, torn apart, hearts devoured, taunting messages displayed in artfully arranged body parts. The Aos Sidhe was coming for him. It was clearly only a matter of time. Set feared for his wife and daughter, barricaded within their living quarters. Those barricades would not slow down the terror that systematically destroyed the lab from within. They had ascended to the top level, then began working their way down. Herding the personnel before them in a terrified scramble for nonexistent safety. Gas did not effect them. Electrical discharge, projectile weapons, nothing available appeared to affect them whatsoever. Set knew it was only a matter of time. Death fury and terror stalked him. It screamed his name, it laughed and mocked. It searched for him. Set did not notice the urine puddle formed at his feet. He was entranced by the horrors shown on the monitors. They were coming for him.
The Morrigna acted in concert, a three headed, six armed terror. No longer completely nude, they were now clothed in effluvia, gore, blood, fluids, pieces of the fomor they found. The coverage extensive enough to be almost chaste. The Morrigna neither noticed nor cared. There was room for only one thought amidst the rage and the fury. A name become the mantra of nightmares. Set Mumbled, babbled, cursed as they tore their way through doors, down stairs, access ladders. Peering into air vents, behind panels. Searching. Nothing was going to survive this hell place. The Morrigna worked diligently to ensure that.
A sort of elegant grace leant itself to their coordination. Seizing a screaming , begging Fomor, a ruthless systematic dismantling of the body, casting parts and pieces aside. Then arranging words from the detritus created. They had settled into a system, effective, efficient, thorough. Nothing lived in their wake. Badb, Macha, Nemain were enjoying themselves. Brutal vengeance had unexpected delicious flavors adding a purpose provided to their existence.
Hours passed. The lab a stinking blood spattered realm of nightmares. It had always been a place of nightmares, only now, it was the nightmares of the Fomor that reigned manifest. The Morrigna brought justice, the pure consequence of indifferent evil manifest.
Set was barricaded in the control center. Alone, watching the security feed, while monitoring his wife and daughter. The little girl terrified, vomiting in fear. His wife, desperate, panicked, weeping, trapped. The sounds of damnation filled all of the lab. Screams, howls, agony, fear, pain, loss, vengeance, echoed and re echoed down the corridors. Bodies strewn, oozing fluids, torn open, steaming in the cold air. Soon it would be growing warm. The vents all closed to the outside, trapping hell within.
The Morrigna worked her way down, level by level, room by room. Nothing lived in their wake. They found Set’s wife and child, hiding within an air vent. The Morrigna did not know who these morsels of vengeance were significant to. Else, a great deal of time and imagination would have been employed rather than the swift evisceration and brief snack that occurred. Set bore witness, helpless, locked within the security chamber, unable to look away from the monitors. The terrified shrieks of his daughter would echo through his memories for millennia. The sight of her small body, torn apart, the shrieks for her daddy, A fitting justice bestowed by accident. As it was, a moment of no consequence to the Morrigna. Fitting, Set had no thought of consequences in his actions. Justice served, in cold indifference.
Having reached the lowest level, the Morrigna began a systematic search on ascent. The target and goal had not been found. Set would be found. Vengeance would be served hot, wet and screaming.
Broken, Set collapsed. Huddled in foetal position wallowing in his own waste. Neither conscious nor unconscious, in a sybaritic state between. Neither here nor there, aware only of terror. Set cowered in his nightmares. His mind and spirit forever transformed. Forever marked, trapped in this state. Sanity, perfect clarity is a curse. It is the small delusions, self deceptions that cushion ones mind against the harsh, cruel reality of existence. Set, had been broken of those comforts. No self deception remained. He had perfect clarity, unclouded perception of self, circumstances, responsibility, and consequences. Perfect sanity is a curse, a punishment of absolute justice. Set now existed in a state of honest, true judgement. There is no redemption. Not when every consequence was willingly purchased with no consideration of cost or effect. Goals, intentions, purposes, mean nothing. Only actions and consequences matter. Set now must live, with the nightmare he had created and unleashed. Ultimately, his plans, his actions, designed to preserve and save his people, brought their destruction. Brought destruction upon the world. Damning three races to an endless dance of insane consequence. Intentions mean less than nothing. Actions, and consequences are all that there is. The best of intentions called the tune and paid the piper, brought about the cycles of destruction. The endless dance of the damned.
Badb paused, sharing a moment of contemplation with Nemain and Macha. They had not found Set. Having retraced their path, checking and rechecking the bodies. Accessing personnel records, then collecting the heads all together in the main corridors, and counting. Only one was unaccounted for. Screaming in frustration the Morrigna hurled the pieces of bodies about. There was only one option that remained. Somehow Set had escaped, before the lockdown went in effect. Fueled by rage, the Morrigna began to claw and tear her way out of the underground complex. The trinity of destruction made short work of each security door. One after the other, torn apart, they made their ascent to the surface. It took as long to climb those few hundred feet of corridors, shafts and locked steel doors as it had to tear their way through all fifteen levels of lab facilities. Achieving the surface, The morrigna found a wasteland. Salt desert stretched to the horizons. Distant mountains to the north west, vast salted sand seas wind swept into rippled dunes. Dust devils whirled, dancing, in all, a fitting place to match their spirits. Vast, empty, thirsting... The Morrigna began walking towards the mountains, their laughter challenging the desert. Madness, rage, vengeance seeking, moving, fate coming to call. A whole new pantheon of terror walked the wasted land.
The security team marked the demons exit from the facility. Having secured director Set, they had been in process of sealing the facility when the demon emerged. They watched as the nightmare howled, screamed at the skies, then set out laughing . Awaiting instructions, they observed without interference. Having monitored the security logs from the facility, short of tactical explosives, there would have been nothing they could have done to begin with. The director , in a state of shock, began having seizures. The team withdrew, returning to Murias, with the data logs. Possibly something could be salvaged from this disaster. None of them, no one in the command council, had any concept of the madness unleashed or the destruction now assured.
CHAPTER 28
Morgans head snapped up when she picked up the familiar scent. Looking towards the shop, Michael and Llew were approaching. Llew? Lugh? Seriously? What the fuck was that lucifer, of all things, doing here? Staring narrow eyed at them, Morgan could not help but notice the similarities. Same height, build, same damned jawline and nose... How had she missed that before? As they walked side by side, they matched stride. They even moved alike. The same relaxed predatory saunter.
Morgan was not pleased.
Llew laughed at the look on Morgans face. Michael was somewhat bemused, it was clear these two had history. What sort remained to be seen. The look on Morgans face set Michaels hackles up. He stepped away from Llew, not wanting to be caught in the violence that he sensed brewing between Morgan and Llew.
“Nemain Mo Croi!” Llew/Lugh greeted Morgan. She snarled in reply. Llew paused, performed a theatric bow, and impishly grinned at her. Morgan glanced from Michael to Llew, processing. Michael watched the interplay between, wondering if Morgan was going to strike. It looked as if She was trying to decide that herself.
Standing close to the car, Llew could sense the regalia. The sword cackled a greeting in Llews mind. Michael, sensing the interplay looked at Llew in concern. ” How do you...”
Llew shrugged, ” We are old companions.” An explanation that raised more questions. The Spear and the Sword moaned audibly. ” Keep yer distance! Your time as champion is passed! Tis our purpose now!” Llew quirked an eyebrow, “Our? Your sisters? Or..” He gestured at Michael. ” The pup?” Morgan moved to be at Michaels side between Llew and the regalia. ” Aye, we were chosen, we are bound.” Llew studied Michael anew. This was interesting. Whether it were better news than the Morrigna being in sole possession remained to be seen. All things considered that had been a part of his scheme, only, in a bit different order of events. ” Why are you here then?” Morgan snapped at him. Llew shook his head, ” You know why. I felt them wake. Why are they awake?”
Morgan studied Llew in silence. When the pump dinged, signaling the tank was filled, she snatched the nozzle out. A few moments passed as she contemplated dousing Llew down and setting him on fire. The thought brought a smile to her face as she visualized him doing an imitation of a torch. Running in circles, on fire, screaming. Michael picking up on the thought, gently pried the gas nozzle from Morgans hands. ” Not here darlin, not the now...” He murmured softly to her. Morgan sighed loud and long.
" Does Macha and Badb know?” She asked Llew. “Aye, I told them I was coming” Llew acknowledged. “They haven’t mentioned it to me then.” Morgan snapped. Gritting her teeth, ” Och!!! Come on then, get in” she gestured to the back seat. ” I have a few things...” Llew stated, pointing to his rented car. ” Fine then, we do not have all the day!” Morgan slammed the door, started up her car, chirping the tires as she pulled away from the pump leaving Michael and Llew standing. They shrugged and hurried to follow her. Llew retrieved his things. Michael helped place them in the trunk. Llew eyed the regalia cases in the trunk, Michael quickly closed it, and gestured for Llew to get in the back seat. Morgan was seriously agitated. Fingers tapping harshly on the steering wheel. Her hard nails leaving marks on the grip. Michael settled into the passenger seat and Morgan punched it, lighting up the tires, doing a quick burn out as they pulled away.
" Waffles” Michael reminded her. She glared at him. Then maneuvered into the Waffle house parking lot. Parked, leapt out and stalked into the restaurant. Michael slowly got out watching her. As Llew climbed out Michael asked ” Is she going to kill you? Or is this merely hatred?” Llew eyed Michael a moment before answering. ” With an ex wife one cannot be sure now can we?” Then proceeding into the Restaurant. Michael paused, watching, processing. Well, that did explain some of the attitude. With a sigh he followed. Determined to focuss on waffles and keep things on a peaceful level at least until they were back at the cabin. things looked to be tense and not getting less so once all were together. More complications.
" Waffles, Pork chop, T-bone, bacon, hash browns, three eggs over easy... And extra sausage links, Coffee and Chocolate milk” Michael ordered. Llew and Morgan looked at him in consternation. ” What? I have been craving for days now! I am going to need my strength it looks!” Morgan ordered the same to Michaels amusement. Llew sipped coffee and considered pie. Outside of eating, the silence between them was deafening. Michael chowed down, studying the two of them. Morgan looking everywhere except at Llew, with Llew studying Morgan. It was almost comical. It would have been comical had Michael not been in the middle of it all.
Llew studied Michael and The link between the two of them. och!!! The bloody woman never could keep her self straight! The link between the two of them was palpable. Llew noted the reflected aural flames that mirrored betwixt them. That was new and different. Such a connection took centuries to develop. So, where had she been keeping this secret hidden? How had she kept it hidden? Questions within questions. Hmm, was this the reason She had left him? Just as the thought shaped itself, Morgan exclaimed ” No. You were the reason.” Llew licked his lips and contemplated her. How did she always manage to do that? ” You are predictable and simple” She answered the unvoiced question. Michael caught the interplay ” I do nae wannae hear it!” She snapped at him before Michael could speak up. ” Hey! I didn’t... ” ” So don’t then!” She snapped. Michael narrowed his eyes at her. Pissed was definitely the sensation. Morgan ignored it, making Michael more annoyed. Llew watched, amused. They were obviously a couple. He almost pitied Michael. The Sword and spear cackled in pleasure. Chaos and discord brought such exquisite pleasures.
A fine mist turned to rain, faded into sleet and ice. Perfectly fitting Morgans state of mind. Icy fury. More than five centuries was not enough time. Some wounds never mend. Some grudges are earned. Some bills can never be paid. Having all three in person in her back seat was not exactly the first, or last choice Morgan would have made. Yet.... Damn him! She had never been able to deny him. And, what the ever loving fuck! How? How had she not seen the resemblance? Was that what had called her to Michael? If so, why then had she dropped him to die? What the ever loving fuck! Morgan could already hear Badb laughing. That was not helpful either. And, that damned spears enticing whispers of blood and mayhem was not helping either. Fuck, a three ring circus complete with sideshows... ” Step right up! The most fucked up soap opera nonsense on earth! Get your tickets here! Line forms to the right, no refunds, no exchanges, cash only, one night only... Fuck! The circus is in town. Which ring was she stuck in?
Michael chewed things over. Twisted them, ran scenarios, simulations, mind racing, trust indicator going quite mad.
Morgan gritted her teeth and pretended to ignore both Michael and Llew in order to focus on driving. In reality she was surreptitiously studying the two of them alternating between side eyed glance and quick peeks in the rear view mirror. Michael looked confused, as if he wanted to be angry or bemused and couldn’t choose between the feelings. Llew, lounged in the middle of the spacious back seat smirking. Morgan wanted to smack that smirk off of his beautiful face. No, she wanted to peel his face off and salt the wounds. At least Llew had come without his entourage of horny floozies. Still, why was he here now? He never did anything without multiple dimensions of intention.
That thought set Morgans teeth to grinding. Llews infidelity was impossible to forgive because of Llews deliberate nature. It had been planned, conceived, and carried out in deliberate purpose. A Preplanned betrayal which made it all the more insulting and demeaning.
Stewing in her juices Morgan gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. The car cruised along in silence, the air vibrating from the tension and built up energy.
" brappppppppphhhhhedpppp braphbbbttt!!!”
The exceedingly long and loud fart shattered the silence. Llew laughed. Michael flailed about
" Oh Gods that's horrible!!! I can taste it in the air!” Gasping, desperately trying to roll down the window. Morgan had already opened her window and stuck her head out to breathe the unpolluted air. A series of rapid fire machine gun farts rang forth. Llew waved his hand in the flavor thickened miasma laughing. ” Ochh thaes better!”
Michael concentrated on not vomiting. Something seriously evil was brewing inside of Llew. ” Do thae again and I will throw you off the next over pass into traffic.” Morgan sniped at Llew. “dude, clench your ass tighter!!!” Michael moaned. Llew laughed louder. Michael was certain that plastic and vinyl panels of the car interior and dash were melting. That, or his eyes were watering, both were likely true.
“Ya will be paying to have my car detailed now won’t you?”
Morgan caught Llews eyes in the mirror. Now that was odd, one of his eyes was a merry sky blue, the other, emerald green. Llew grinned at her. Morgan glared at Llew via the mirror. ” Oh gods its coating my tongue!” Michael wailed.
Morgan snorted, then broke out in laughter, Llew joined in laughing uproariously. Michael, just wanted the stench to end.
They rode, with the windows down, through the cold darkness. Michael slipped a Savatage cd into the player.
The opening riff to ” Handful of Rain” cranked out. They slipped through the night , Llew gazed out the windows at the mountains, Morgan stared straight ahead, with Michael, openly studying the two of them.
CHAPTER 29
Michael , stared through the windshield at the gray snow sludge, shining ice patches, sweeping headlight beams bordered in darkness. The tunnel vision with rhythmic swipe of wipers and rumbling purr of the engine blended well with the Savatage blaring out, soothing him into complacency.
The Sword seized the opportunity to feed on his memories. Michael held some enticing morsels of horror that tantalized the demon spawned intelligence. Centuries had wrought wonders of atrocity and evil such that the sword had only fantasized about while awaiting the reawakening. The Humans had actually managed to surpass the Aos Sidhe in population and depravity. The mass insanity of thinly veiled violence and cruelty, the sheer volume of rampant malevolence were tantalizing. Michael had seen the darkness and walked in humanities hells. War had transformed the world, transitioning from a sporadic upheaval into a pandemic infection engulfing the world. What a wondrous time to be alive.
Purring, the demon blade worried its way through Michaels memories. Feasting, revelling in the magnitude of the horrors. For his part Michael did not resist the thoughts, he let them flow. Trying to prevent them never worked, it was best to let them flow, otherwise, he would damn himself to the endless feedback loop of memory that PTSD played in his head. The demon blade cackled in glutinous glee as Michael remembered. Morgan noticed Michaels fists clench and his tension.
There is a mid day darkness, black as night on the ground level of triple canopy jungle. Water and or simian urine, both likely, constantly dripped. The Air , hot, thick, still and fetid oppressed his senses. Michael drew breath, tasting the pungent earthy aroma of the jungle. Moving excruciatingly slowly, careful to not bend a branch or leaf, leaving no trace, Michael moved. He knew where the other five men in his team were without looking. With practiced precision the six man LRRS team moved toward their objective. Rivulets of sweat ran down his back, making him even more uncomfortable. Gods, Michael really hated Africa. With any luck, they would do their sneak and peak unobserved. Once their objective was found, the fireworks of artillery and air support would light up the night. Unfortunately, their quarry was not being cooperative. While easy to track, the child army seemed to have no specific objective, at least The trail was blatantly clear. There is no way to disguise when an army of drug crazed teens rampaged through the jungle. They left a trail of wreckage behind them like rabid locusts swarmed the darkness.
Three days the team had tracked the guerrillas, burned villages, mangled bodies, body parts gnawed upon, bits and pieces of horror scattered along to show the way the guerrillas had moved. ” The lords resistance army” they called themselves. Charles taylors private army of crazed fiends, children that had been chosen out, selected, beaten, drugged, forced to consume parts of their family moved with no concerns at all. The Armed forces of Nigeria, Uganda, The Democratic Republic of Congo, U.N. observers, had all left the lords army alone. The denizens of madness moved and operated in the open with impunity.
Well, not for much longer that is.
The team could hear them ahead, laughter, gunshots, terror and pain filled screams beckoned the LRRS team forward. Michael raised a clenched fist, the team froze in place. With silent hand signs, Michael deployed the team. They set up and observed, counting, assessing, searching for Taylor or his subordinates, whomever was leading this horde of madness.
The guerrillas set no perimeter, no guards, no watch. There was no organization no discipline. To what purpose? They had nothing to fear, hah, they were fear!
The clearing housed the remnants of a village. Smashed huts, broken dung-clay walls marked where once families had lived. Now, there were only the demented guerillas, the dead, dying, and those begging for death.
The guerillas had set up a kitchen of sorts. Several old fifty five gallon oil drums set up over fires. Steam rose like spirits dancing out of the impromptu stew pots. Boys, worked holding down a prisoner, while another butchered the writhing screaming victim alive, tossing freshly sliced pieces into the drums. The victims eyes were open, mouth moving in silent scream as the butcher-boy cut the head free and laughing held it up, the eyes shone in terror, blinking as the butcher dropped the severed head into the stew.
Michael and his team watched in silent horror. This was beyond unacceptable. They had counted over a hundred armed guerrillas in open sight with evidence of more. There were fly covered piles of severed hands and severed feet, scattered about. One rather large pile of some amorphous mass buzzed under a mound of flies.
Between the six men of the team, Michael knew they each had at least 200 rounds each. Twelve hundred rounds of 149 gr 7.62 x .51 nato. Ten twenty round magazines each. Michael was actually pleased to be carrying the heavy Swiss Sig battle rifle rather than the standard 5.56 M-4. The .556 round was deadly, fast, light, accurate. The only problem was, the light 55 gr. Bullets did not transfer energy well. The small .223 caliber bullets tended to punch through soft tisue only really tumbling when they hit bone. Consequently, unless it was a lucky head shot, often the recipient of the prize barely noticed they had won, until the bleeding informed them of the award. In war this is highly problematic, the target can often shoot back as they bleed out.
Back when the 5.56 was adopted, the military theory had been that a high rate of fire, light recoil, and more bullets were good. The light round would make devastating wounds, thus potentially removing both the target and the soldier rendering aid. That was great theory when dealing with Professional first world armies. A twofer, remove two for one shot from the fight.
In reality, dealing with undisciplined guerrillas and terrorists would leave their wounded to fend for themselves. It is rather unsettling to put three rounds center into the chest of a young teen , high on Ganj and Qat, while he keeps running towards you screaming with a machete and Ak-47. The bigger, much harder hitting 7.62 round, let them know they had been serviced, receiving their darwin award post haste. Bang, one shot, one down.
Quietly, the Team observed, took note, then withdrew, retreating almost a kilometer before pausing to radio in the encampment coordinates, disposition, numbers etc. They were far beyond range of artillery support, air support was over an hour away. The team, had been traumatized by what they had seen. U.S. Army Rangers tend to be hard men, this insanity was unbelievable. You cannot send Rangers to watch and do nothing. It was surreal, almost like being stuck in a badly written zombie epic. Except for the smell which was something Michael would never forget. Boiling human meat smells just like boiling pork or bacon. The team had been smelling the cooking meat during their approach. Not having stopped to eat their MREs in their haste to acquire their target, the teams bellies had grumbled hungrily as they approached. The watering mouths and appetites were long gone now.
The team, received orders to set up an lp/op ( listening post/observation post) over watching a refugee center which the lords army now seemed to be headed for. Silently, the LRRS team bypassed the encamped guerrillas , leap frogging ahead towards the refugee center. Quickly, quietly the team arrived, chose position, and created two camouflaged three man dugouts which they disappeared into. Watch established, alternating watches organized, the men waited. No one had any appetite. They waited, rested, watched through the day, refugees, in seriously rough shape trickled into the center. Near nightfall, the lords army arrived.
There was no organization, there was only mob action. The guerrillas, never bothered to stage or plan. They merely walked haphazardly into the center and began butchering people with cane knifes, axes, and machetes. The team watched in horror and growing fury. There was no support, they were there twisting in the breeze waiting for the promised support. The team did not discuss what they were going to do, they split into three two man teams and moved along the perimeter. They had decided they could not watch this as vulnerable Children, women, elders were butchered they had to stop it if they could. Six men against a couple hundred drug crazed teen cannibals hardly seemed a fair fight.
The big difference between special operations and regular infantry is in discipline and fire power. During a typical infantry exchange less than half, often less, actually aim and fire their weapon. With special operations, every single man carefully serviced targets. Thus, six men represented nearly the active firepower of a platoon or company. All six Rangers opened fire at selected targets dropping the evil in their tracks.
Maneuver and fire, fire and maneuver. Pause, service a target, move positions immediately. That way, by the time the targets realized where the fire was coming from, that element had moved on. The guerillas, in turn returned fire on vacant spaces. The LRRS team, in violation of all orders to stand down observe and report, thoroughly and efficiently eliminated the guerrillas. Not one Ranger was hurt. By the time the three fire teams had worked around the center perimeter once. More than sixty guerillas lay cooling in the early evening. It was short work moving through the refugee center killing each guerilla on site. Refugees running, screaming in terror, children crying. The only real casualties were the innocent women and children caught between. The Rangers were selective and accurate in their fire, the guerillas seemed to not care , spray and pray was their modus operandi killing indiscriminately. It was all over in less than half an hour total. All told, three hundred refugees had been butchered, a hundred fifty dead guerrillas littered the ground. The rest of the child army had fled. The team, having no back up did not pursue them. Instead, the team worked frantically to help the injured refugees. When Morning came a contingent of Irish Rangers arrived to support and assist. Of all the U.N. contingent, the Irish Rangers were the best, the most disciplined, trained equiped and motivated.
Command and control was certainly not happy. No one was supposed to know that there was an American Lrrs team operating on the ground. That cat got out of the bag.
The team was assigned clean up duty While decisions were made. Article 15s prepared, early extraction arranged.
Counting and assessing the victims, making the after action report kept the team busy and distracted from the shit storm they knew was waiting for them. Though it was somewhat difficult to tell the difference between cooked and gnawed upon pelvic arches, so, when the demand of how many women had been murdered was made, the team, with the U.N aid workers could only shoo the flies away from the piles of severed flesh. the Mounds of womens breasts brutally cut from their living bodies, left behind at every guerilla action.
" How do we do this?” Michael was asked. With a cold distant stare Michael grunted and gestured at the pile of flesh. ” Count those, divide the number by two, that should give you a good estimate. ” While Michael had been sarcastic there honestly were no other options. The Team, was diligent and thorough in their report. That was when Michael decided that he did not want a military career, that whole African deployment taught Michael all about human kindness and mercy, and he wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Never would Michael trust any authority again. Politicians, are a plague upon humanity.
The demon blade drank in the horror, morbidly cackling as it fed. Michaels still unresolved rage,guilt and shame, were tasty tidbits to savor indeed. The promise of more mayhem madness terror and blood ahead amused the sword.
CHAPTER 30
Llew sat back , lounging in the big back seat. Michael was lost in his thoughts, Morgan drove in growing wordless rage.
That bloody woman had the mercy and forgiveness of a stone. She was born with The temperament of a honey badger, Llew breathed in her scent, as always, intoxicating. Goddess was the only honest description of her.
The connection between Morgan and Michael was palpable. Llew could clearly see their Aural flames reaching towards each other, intertwined. That was something unheard of at least wise, unheard of without millennia of connection. How? Why? Shaking his head in consternation, Llew struggled to mask his emotions. Jealousy? That was new. Though more than two eons had passed, Llew still Loved Morgan deeply, seeing his exwife so, connected, was disturbing. Envy, jealousy, bubbled about within him. These were completely new experiences. Llew was fully aware that Morgan still had not forgiven him. Not only had she divorced him, but, she had led a vendetta against his son from the brief affair Llew had betrayed Morgan with. Morgan was always a bit extreme however, starting a war, trying to seduce ,then, ensuring Setanta, the hound of Ulster died at her instigation was overkill in Llews considered opinion. It was not CuChullain that betrayed her!
Morgan loved thoroughly and deeply, just as she hated, with all of her being. Llew knew better than entertain the desires he felt. It was thoroughly useless. The Godslayers, cackled in joy at the explosive emotions broiling between the trio. Llew could faintly sense them , restless in their cases locked in the trunk of the car. Closing his eyes, Llew drifted along. Flickering memories playing like a movie, in his mind.
Ok, yes, Llew had fathered a child with a human, then tried to hide the affair from Morgan. The combined actions of lying to her, betraying her, daring to hide a child, all led to a fury that Llew rightfully feared. Morgan was a goddess of vengeance. She was just so damned beautiful, entrancing, so gorgeously angry. The Bloody woman was like Uiscebha, intoxicating, burning, entrancing. It was difficult to think about anything else in her presence. Bloody hell, what was he doing? Why? What would the Morrigna do, when all three were in his presence? What exactly would Llew do when confronted with that trinity of fury? These questions, these fears, flitted through his mind. There was no turning back now, Llew was committed to the course whether he wanted or not. Maybe, the news he brought would buy some forgiveness. After all, he knew where Set was hiding and Morgan would stop at nothing for her vengeance.
Morgan clutched the steering wheel with a desperate grasp. Fighting the urges to strike out, to, scratch those smug eyes out of Llews face, resisting her need to pummel and bleed him. Why was he, of all creation, here now? Was it really because the regalia was awake? What wasn’t he telling? Och, the lying bastard was conniving, always plotting, manipulating, he never acted without multiple layers of deliberate reason. That trait, was what had made his betrayal so unforgivable. He had planned it, thought it through, carried it out and with full intention and forethought, he had lied and betrayed her faith deliberately. It certainly did not help that the vixen he had seduced resembled her, physically at least. Morgan stewed in her memories, why can things never be uncomplicated?
“He what?!”
The outrage shifting to fury as Nemain's exclamation echoed in the hall at Emain Macha. Macha flinched, the king, Connor Mac Nessa, winced. Badb laughed out loud. First was the betrayal, next would be the madness and joy of vengeance. The entire hall fell silent, Nemains exclamation echoing through the silence as if a roll of thunder filled the packed hall.
Connor was sure his ears were bleeding from the explosive volume. His hands trembled slightly as he sat rigid hoping that that intense fury would not envelope him in her flames of rage. The hall rapidly emptied, the people rushing to leave, to escape the storm that had broken in their midst, trampled, shoved, cursed in their rush to exit the hall. Badbh found their panic amusing, Macha sighed in resignation. There will be war, madness, fury and vengeance in full measure.
Macha felt pity for the mortal King of the Ulliad, though, there was not a shred of pity or sympathy for Llew.
Now Here we go again,
" Cry Havoc, let slip the dogs of war! "
End of Book 1 , Midnights Requiem, The Dance Of The Damned,
The end of the beginning,
The beginning of the end.
Llew smiled, yes indeed this was going to be sweet.
Next step, Turn Michael Arthur Llewis into a Hero, An Arthur come again. Then enjoy the chaos and fun.
Llew would set about becoming Michaels best friend, he would support and uphold him, teach him, mold him into a king.
Chuckling Llew pictured all of the outrage, the consternation, the chaos of when Michael says no. Or tries to dominate Morgan- Nemain. Llew was truly bemused at the thought of watching her fall in love, watching her rage,
Her fury is so damned intoxicating. Her rage a captivating beauty.
And, he gets to enjoy it all without being the target, the thorn in her side, Llew would be seriously entertained watching from the side.
When she starts to throw things, Llew decided to toss her a variety of painful objects when hurled.
Let Michael learn to duck.
It is his turn now.
Llew had plenty of memories of the Morrigna’s gorgeous storms.
CHAPTER 31
"Which one are you?"
The words dripped with scorn and venom.
" Who are ye today? In the now? "
Before Llew could form a reply, a sharp crack and loud thud accompanied the impact of a bowl that once held sausage gravy. The bowl had broken upon impact with Llews head.
Confused, Llew did not know the tiny woman that had thrown the bowl of gravy at him. She raised both hands in the air as if in surrender , spun about and kicked her way through the swinging door into the kitchen.
Some of the peppered gravy dripped, oozing slowly down his face. Hooking a finger, Llew scooped it away in a futile gesture. Examined his catch, then licked it from his fingers. " This is really good, though not quite how I would prefer to serve it. " Llew dead panned.
The furious Macha, with a quivering red faced Badb stared momentarily in surprise. The hostility visible, shimmering in the air between them.
Laughter exploded. A giggle grew into gasping belly laughs. Llew nonchalantly continued munching at gathered gravy . " This is too good to be wasted, this is not a the recommended way to eat breakfast I expect. Or is it some new fad thing I haven't heard about? " The wry comment unleashed more intense laughter. Now all three of the Morrigna were laughing intensely. Michael stood still silently watching the scene playing out. A moment before Michael had been sure he was about to witness the dismemberment and destruction of Llew by Macha and Badb. Now the trinity were openly weeping, gasping for air.
Elspeth, seeing the impending violence hurled the bowl of gravy knowing it would either trigger the violence or diffuse it.
Hopefully diffuse the violence. Cleaning up a bowl of gravy and broken porcelain would be much simpler than cleaning up Llews entrails.
She had read the room correctly, smiling Elspeth set about making more gravy. There was still plenty of sausage ready and the Biscuits warming in the oven. Breakfast for five.
This was the first time Macha had brought Guests to her cabin. Elspeth happily busied herself preparing the breakfast. They could clean up the mess while she made more gravy. Chuckling lightly, Elspeth grinned. The look on all of their faces had been priceless.
Llew realized that the angry little woman had likely just saved his life from an excruciating destruction. The question that riddled Llews mind, was it intentional?
Elsie swept back through the swinging doors, coffee cups dangling from her fingers and a black cast iron kettle which she carefully placed on the hearth. Spacing cups out beside it.
" Michael, could you help me get the rest? "
"Umm, of course!"
Elsie hurried back into the kitchen, Michael reluctantly followed her. Even though there was laughter, the room still vibrated and a chill held the air.
" Just take your time, here try this," Elsie waved bacon under Michaels nose. When he opened his mouth to answer her she shoved the hot greasy bacon into his mouth. It was hot. Fresh from the frying pan. Michael felt his mouth and tongue burning. But, it was bacon so no harm no foul.
Elsie watched the expression flow across Michaels face, surprise morphed into anger into pain into pleasure as he began chewing. Elsie began to giggle herself. Michael munched on bacon while watching the tiny woman silently. His attention was direct. Elsie giggled uproariously, Michael swallowed bacon and stared at her.
When she had the ability to get self control functional again, Elsie laughingly told Michael to take his time, those four have a lot of baggage to unpack and sort who's what's whys, and hopefully not bathe the room in Llews interior parts. " There's more bacon" Elsie picked up the frying pan and waved it towards Michael, " Biscuits are hot and theres fresh coffee. It will be safer and less messy in here regardless of them murdering him or not. "
Michael grinned realizing the depth of astute manipulation Elsie had used keeping relative peace. The whole bowl of gravy thing was deliberately executed. Michael should have known that anyone associated with that unholy trinity would be devious as well.
There are few things better or more comforting in life, than being fed biscuits and bacon with rich strong sweet coffee by an hobbitish grand-motherly type. Michael happily munched, sipped, and kept an ear out for smashing noises or cries for help. So far, it was quiet in the big room. Michael was certain only that quiet was as potentially destructive as noisy. While the children raged in the big room. Michael contentedly munched and sipped his coffee. " You're right! Let them sort it out. Hmmm this is really wunnerful, hey wheres the mop? Do you think that or the snow shovel? " Before Elsie could reply, Michael continued, " no your right! They tend to be abundantly enthusiastic. Both. Snow shovel and a mop! " Elsie sipped her own coffee eying Michael closely. This one was not stupid after all no matter how brainless and giddy he appeared while Morgan twisted him around her fingers.
Elsie wondered, just who was leading the dance there in fact. Thinking about it, Morgan had been doing her own share of the brainless giddy routine. This suddenly did not seem so predictable. Elsie resolved to bake a lot while she tries and keep the peace with biscuits, bacon and pastries. Definitely less work than ten minutes stuck in the big room with those focussed four hellions would be. Truthfully, far less stressful as well. All in all, not the most terrible of portents, far from the best as well. Elsie briefly considered retrieving her body armor and shot gun.
No, she would fight this battle with biscuits and bacon not blade and bullet.
A crash and tinkling of broken glass rang out like four gunshots from the big room.
Elsie rolled her eyes. This would require the powers of fried pies. Eying the various jars of home made preserves. " Seven of each I think, " removing seven random jars and arranging them on the counter. She had grabbed 3 jars of Apples, two peach, a plum, and black berries. Not just flank em, surround them and massacre their mayhem. Elsie shook her head woefully muttering about irresponsible girls, no respect, etc etc, as she poured flour, mixing the sweet biscuit dough that she made her fried pies from. Elsie muttered " The power of Pie compels you! "
Michael spluttered snorting coffee out of his nose. Elsie watched him smiling.
CHAPTER 32
"Consider the arbitrary nature of definitions.
What is chaos to the fly, is order to the spider.
Right, wrong, black or white, good and evil,
Ultimately depends upon ones perspective. Truly, good and evil are both arbitrary and relative.
That is why asking is this wrong or right, good or evil is meaningless.
The only true question is,
" Is it a good idea? ”
Should one decide that it is in fact, for whatever reason, a good idea, then it is worth doing.
Even so, what is a good idea for the spider, is a nightmare for the fly.
Everything is relative to your perspective.
Good and Evil are arbitrary definitions, defined only by the relative perspective of, the observer or participants.
There is no universal moral authority, there is only entropy and entanglement."
Llew paced to and fro, hands gesturing, lecturing the Morrigna.
Michael chose discretion as the better part of valor, ducking back into the kitchen.
" Make that a mop, sponge, bucket and shovel.” Elspeth quirked an eyebrow at Michaels statement.
“Part of me wants to be a fly on the wall for this meeting, somehow I think being in the room with them is going to be painful.” Michael snaked a piece of bacon,
" In fact, I do believe nothing would survive the coming blood bath. ” Michael had seen the look on the trinity of chaos faces. Llew , amazingly was oblivious to the storm beginning to brew. Elspeth cracked the door to spy on the quartet.
" They just might kill him this time” Elspeth whispered.
“Well, the power of pie shall compel them.” Elspeth turned back to making her hand pies. Seven each should be about right she decided.
" Michael, would you reach that big bakers bowl down for me please”
Michael set the bowl on the counter. ” Do I interfere or start digging in the back yard? ”
Chuckling,
Elspeth responded ” I have no ideas. It is going to be interesting. Hows your pitching arm? ”
Michael, listened to the storm breaking in the next room. The Morrigna was being deathly silent. Llew however was making noises a body should never imagine let alone experience.
Michael tried to turn back and go investigate the bizarre sounds, Elspeth headed him off by smacking Michael with bacon. ” Eat this, you will need your strength. ”
Bacon has power and reason all of it’s own, sufficient to distract Michael from the odd sounds creeping through the closed door.
His curiosity continued to grow. Laughter, the sound of breaking wood and the other unidentifiable sounds crept their way into the kitchen. Each time Michael moved towards the door Elsie headed him off with bacon.
Things quieted down, Michael munched, and held this, rolled that, passed various ingredients , generally getting in Elsies way while she pretended that Michael was helping.
” We are gonna need a mop! ” I think we need a hammer! ” “Coffee!” Echoed from the Morrigna.
Michael stole a glance into the main room. Llew was on his knees, mouth stifled with, what ever the trio of terror had shoved into it.
That explained the odd noises. Dripping a mix of gravy and hot coffee Llew knelt in the midst of the Morrigna.
Babd fondled a seaxe, Macha held a wooden table leg, Morgan, trembled and gestured shaking as she whispered to Llew.
Creeping up beside him to spy out the situation, Elsie pushed Michael aside and stepped through the doorway throwing still hot fried hand pies at the foursome. The sound of crackling fire and pie filling plopping filled the sudden quiet of the Morrigna. The trio now turned their backs on Llew, to stare in silent consternation at Elsie.
Michael failed to stifle his laughter at the sight of the Morrigna struck silent, splattered with a variety of streaming pie filling. Elsie shoved Michael back into the kitchen. ” The mop and broom are in the closet ” waving her hand towards a white panel door. ” We will not be touching your mess now! Straighten up and at least pretend to be civilized adults if you want breakfast. Be sure, I have a whole platter of hot pies don’t you know. ”
Michael moved to step through the now open doorway. Elsie, not so gently took the mop and broom from him to throw them across the room. ” Breakfast will be at the table in the dinning room in five minutes! Fix your mess! ” Muttering to herself, “I was raised by them, why do I feel like I am raising them?”
Directing Michael to carry the platters and bowls to the large, rough hewn picnic table in the center of the large kitchen. Elspeth set about setting the table. Muttering and trying to hide her annoyed amusement at the situation. ” At the least there is no bloodshed yet. ”
The Morrigna shoved a stumbling Llew before them as they stepped into the kitchen. Elspeth stood next to the freshly set table, a three foot stainless steel spoon in her hands as if it were a sword. Michael again could not stifle his laughter at the ridiculous circumstances.
Elsie silenced him with a well aimed apple pie. ” You are not helping! ”
" Good children, breakfast is served! ” Elsie proclaimed taking her place at the head of the Table. Michael found himself sitting next to a spluttering Llew spewing feathers and foamy pillow stuffing. The Morrigna found their place together across from Michael and Llew
" I think Llew had breakfast already. ” the trio laughed as they sat at the table.
Fried hand pies, bacon,scrambled eggs with sausage gravy and hot biscuits summoned their Attention. Elspeth sat like a queen on her throne with that spoon held like a scepter glaring at the group.
" You raised me from before I could crawl , now in my old age, I have degenerated into raising a pack of rabid badgers.. ”
Llew wriggled, sputtered, coughing, spitting out bits and pieces of pillow.
” Ach, seems you may already be stuffed, are you sure you can eat anymore? ” The Morrigna Snarled, cackled and spewed venomously.
Michael braced himself as Llew tensed up. Michael planned ahead, mind racing, listing potential moves, actions, planning the death and destruction of Llew should he act upon the obvious fury that crackled, lighting bolts filling his eyes. Llew shocked himself, drawing a deep breath and soothing his own ruffled feathers.
Macha and Badbh, watched Llew closely.
Both were impressed with his obvious restraint and self control.
This was a very different Llew than they had known before.
this was certainly, new and unexplored territory.
what critters lurk in these shadows?
what dangers? what hungers? Each question begat another question which begged yet another question.
Round and round, up, down, in and out, the questions flowed.
CHAPTER 32
Irony.
is it ironic that the whole arrangement is ironic?
The villain as heroe,
The heroe as villain.
The Gods, as victims?!?!
Round about, a whirlwind of Madness,
Mayhem, chaos, confusion, choices made, realities manifest. Everything relative.
From one perspective, a predator /farmer protecting their herds/fields.
from the other, divine saviours :
protectors of humanity...
Which is which? How is the why? At least the where and when are obvious.
Even so,
the Gods have ALWAYS been thirsty.
As for the wolves. The Formor, the titans.
shape shifting nano-A.I. Clouds.
the Fomor in the end had lost the long war with the Aos Sidhe. The surviving A.I.'s Driven out of the Solar system.
Essentially immortal, amoral A.I.'s driven by vengeance , fury, and rage powerless to directly face their enemy.
Being timeless,
the long game, was the only game.
just maybe,
should fate and luck choose to dance,
the Formor,
would shelter in the Proxima/Alpha Centauri cluster. Recovering numbers, planning, plotting from afar.
The retreating Fomor had left many presents, behind.
surprise gifts of calamity, to create destruction and chaos randomly throughout the ages.
How often has it all been whack - a- moled back into the stone age, back to the caves?
the Aos Sidhe quit counting after the third cycle through.
Logistics;
Probably the single most critical requirements for a successful army to win.
Attack the Only source of sustenance for the enemy.
kill the food, poison the herds, starve the Aos Sidhe into submission and destruction.
Thus the Fomor occasionally rained destruction upon the human herds. Directed comet strikes, engineered plagues, asteroid strikes.
Covert political/economic manipulation.
The Aos Sidhe found themselves having to protect their dinner. Defend their picnic from the Ants and Bears. The competing predators which slaughtered the prey haphazardly.
Perspective is a crazy bitch.
At least it was amusing.
At least it wasn't boring.
Llew drifted through his thoughts, each side, each face sporting a slightly different view.
†*********************†
Plan A:
Cumberland Gap
Seize and secure the tunnel, along with the Pinnacle.
Plan B:
Provide veterinary care for the injured cattle.
Michael perched atop the steel strapped wheel of the Cannons caisson. Quietly waiting in the civil war gun emplacement.
Llew irritated Morgan as he paced along the paved pathway, pausing to look down onto the picturesque Town of Cumberland Gap on the Tennessee side, at the base of the mountain, leaning precariously over the edge of the stone perched at the edge of the sheer cliff. Whirling about to march back to the Cannon emplacement, to spy north, through the winter barren hardwood forrest at Kentucky, and the Town of Middlesbrough.
Babd chose to sit on the edge, overlooking the Tennessee side. Macha took up position in the museum building overlooking the crest parking lot.
Morgan occasionally wondered if Llew would bounce if hurled from the pinnacle while glaring at Michael , who was aggravating in how he stayed aloof ,out of her way. How dare he go out of his way to give her nothing to complain about!
Boredom Always led to danger and chaos.
Chaos and danger,
The mayhem of madness.
The Morrigna's stock in trade.
With three of her, one is usually bored, out of the trio.
Thus, Goddess of madness, strife, war...
Michael , quiet, detached, studied his companions from a distance. While searching the perimeter with random glances.
Sometimes silence is , while painful, the only viable option.
There, to the north, on the brink of the horizon.
A bright flash. A burning tail, the after image of passage etched across the sky.
A crack in the skies, to release the tears of vengeance.
through the distance,
a subtle , earth resonating with the rumbling shock wave which swept everything before it.
" Well, that's that then: " Babd dropped over the edge.
Llew followed, apparently diving in her wake.
Michael raced to the parking lot. Macha was already behind the wheel, revving up the black 68 Coronet440 impatiently waiting.
Michael introduced himself, intimately, to every hard surface, uncomfortable angle and point of pain when he dove into the open window.
Macha wondered why he hadn't simply used the door. It was distracting and amusing to see Michael, head down between Morgans feet, legs kicking out the open window with Morgans thoroughly un -amused expression and surprised dismay.
Macha laughed, dropping the Car into gear.
A dark, white and black cloud billowed out from the rear tires as they spun free heating up, melting rubber, gaining traction.
And they were off.
How quickly could Macha navigate their way to the valley floor, the north side, entrance to, the Cumberland Gap tunnel. Babd had busied herself subduing the small town of Cumberland gap guarding the entrance to the pass, choosing to base herself in Cudzo's Cave, overlooking a the spring at the entrance to the Gap. Llew had moved up through the Gap along the surface route. Moving to position over looking the northern entrance to the tunnel. The old Rail Road tunnel remained unused for the time being. Using the two tunnels and a fort/tower ( like the Border lords towers along Wales and Scotlands borders.) On the crest of the pass through the mountains.
the perfect place over all to hole up and secure a kingdom amidst the chaos of the apocalypse Michael presumed.
Why merely survive the apocalypse when one may conquer and secure a kingdom?
There are ways to plan for the future one wants.
Of course, why merely play along surviving when One has equal opportunity, "Carpe Diem!" To win the zombie apocalypse!
Win the Apocalypse? Seems like a reasonable plan and priority.
Chaos always brings opportunities.
what else should the Aos Sidhe do?
It is not like this is the first time the Fomor had dropped the hammer of the Heavens on them. After the third time, it had become reflexive, reaction, action, without thought.
A habit of conquest and order in the midst of chaos. Time to start over.
the only thing new, being the answer to the questions:
What could be salvaged?
How much would survive this time?
Llew gazed about in consternation.
All of his planning, millennia of maneuver, manipulate, deliberate betrayal, careful plotting planning and meticulous execution. All of that hard work and extreme effort threatened by a big rock, hurled by ancient hate ....
what was that saying?
"people in glass houses ? "
Nothing for it.
Adapt, advance, overcome...
bring order and meaning out of chaos and destruction.
Tho, usually,
the destruction was on a much smaller scale, incited by the bored antics of hurricane Morrigna.
Tumultuous tho they are,
One can never be bored when they are about.
from the distance,
the sounds of everything falling,
Burning, dying faded amongst the chittering of startled squirrels. Llew leapt, skipping lightly from surface to surface on his way down to secure the south side of the tunnels.
memories played through his minds.
Llew considered the shiny, fresh blackened asphalt as he smoothly ran along the mountain road.
Roads, roads and plumbing truly are the great indicators of civilization.
Tho something could be said for rattle, jounce, and thunder of a chariot at gallup on a wooden corduroy road. Llew considered the insane joy of racing Horses and Chariots along these modern roads.
one part observed the world of now passing by,
one part considered and plotted to turn things to the advantage of the plan.
while the rest, sought understanding in memories.
Just as in the first great calamity, Morgan had incited many smaller storms of fury, chaos, madness.
Thru all of which Llew had labored to minimize the damage.
True Love has unexpected costs....
Hopefully loves labors are not lost.,
confused though they may be.
how much would survive this time?
.........................................
In the end,
most survived. There was only the one impact,
where had once been five great lakes, inland seas really,
Now, there was only the one . The peninsula of Michigan, now shattered and scattered as dust upon the whole earth.
to say the world lost its mind, would be to presume that the world ever had a moment of rationality to begin with.
a new order arose,
Another dark ages,
another epoch of catastrophe come calling.
throughout the world,
weary Aos Sidhe set to work,
doing all they could to preserve their herds,
the herds,
could not understand, they simply could not believe that these heroic saviors, rescuers,
these new revealed old gods,
could be anything other than heroic saviors.
perception is a vicious beast of misdirection,
misunderstanding,
and delusions.
the entire world order collapsed,
nations fell, economics ceased, chaos became the only consistent reality.
from the madness,
New, old kingdoms were reborn.
ancient nightmares once again openly took form,
in the Americas,
Well, north america,
the powell valley transformed.
a kingdom formed out of the ruins.
one piece of insane sanity,
in a world pie of madness and mayhem.
Badbh, had found her purpose in the chaos.
she revelled in the horrors of war, disease, famines, the destruction,
Macha,
once again became a queen.
and Morgan,
Well, Morgan had Michael and that was all she allowed herself to think about.
nearly two thirds of the population had been eliminated during the first hours of the calamity.
Starvation, privation, disease, chaos, pointless battles, took their tolls.
Truly, death , is an equal opportunity employer.
The wheel turns as the wheel wills.
It is what it is and all we can do is the best we can.
CHAPTER 34
Now,
That we are all thoroughly confused,
It is time to back up and fill in the pieces missing.
How, why, did The Morrigna, Michael and Llew, get from breakfast, to perched at the pinnacle to oversee the apocalypse?
That is a minor piece of the tale, though important.
Elspeth had worked her magics and cast her spells to great effect,
The power of pie is compelling.
They sat, Non violently eating, enjoying her handiwork. A sense of calm, if not exactly peace had settled into place.
The six of them ate, studying, contemplating, watching each other in depth.
LLew, was pleased with himself, having thus far survived the encounter,
the Morrigna, well, the Morrigna remained, constraiMichael Michael tried to feign nonchalance, while actually enjoying Elspeths cooking.
Elspeth, reigning at the table, oversaw it all, maintaining the peace,
And, an extra large bowl of gravy with which to restore order at her side.
The meal progressed,
Manners enforced, became habit, keeping the peace between them all.
When all had gorged to their fill,
Elspeth appointed chores, no one disputed her blatant orders, not with that bowl of still hot gravy or that over large steel spoon clutched in her gesturing grip.
Llew found himself in the kitchen, washing dishes with Elspeth,
While the Morrigna cleared away the table.
Michael, was relegated to firewood duty, restocking both the wood bin in the kitchen, and the central fireplace in the main room.
Domestic functionality kept the peace.
Busy hands, cannot be about the devils work, not even with the devil himself directly involved. The power of pie compels even the gods it seems.
Elspeth kept them all busy, directing, assigning tasks, beginning preparations for dinner and supper,
stew seemed a good idea,
it would cook on its own well once put together, which would allow Elspeth to focus on managing the house full of hellions.
one wrong step, one spark would be all it took to ignite the conflagration. Elspeth was determined it would not be on her watch.
at some point, someone turned on a radio, searching for suitable music,
that led to a chaos of its own that ended with Elspeth locking it down on a country gospel station.
" You heathen hellions, need to hear the word of the lord, before I lose my temper with you!!! Listen, learn,
Act like adults not a congress of baboons and toddlers that aint housebroken yet! ”
The group busied themselves, setting things aright, avoiding the angry scowl of Elspeth.
For her part, Elspeth was scarcely able to contain herself from exploding into laughter.
Biting her cheeks, fighting back tears of mirth,
She reigned,
They, seeing tears at the edge of her eyes, and what they perceived was barely contained rage, scurried about, seeking peace, her approval, and maybe, more pie.
Thus they continued into the early afternoon,
pausing for coffee and hot teas, and of course, Elspeths hand pies.
peace had established itself as the status quo. Though the tension was clearly palpable, a quiet, polite order ruled
Things continued as such throughout the afternoon. The Five miscreants behaved under Elspeths unwavering eye, the cabin resonated with country gospel and bluegrass, all to the joyous aromas of stew, stewing, and pies baking.
the very picture of domestic peace and joy.
It is amazing how catastrophe, can bring people together. How quickly enemies can become allies in the face of cataclysm.
The aggravating noise of the emergency alert,
shattered the equilibrium. All six stared in consternation at the radio, while the warning announcement progressed.
there was no further disruption, or disagreement. In fact, there was only focused coordination and concentration on the crisis at hand.
it is not everyday that the President of the good ole U.S.of A, announced that a planet killing asteroid was coming and there was nothing to be done except, place our heads between our legs and kiss our arses goodbye.
they had less than seventy two hours till the impact...
not a lot of time in which to prepare.
not that there was much, if anything, that could be done, even so,
it was a good thing that they were so secluded.
the cities all erupted into looting, chaos, violence.
before the impact, every government had been rendered pointless by the out of control mobs. That was within the first few hours after the announcement.
madness reigned, Badbh, felt contented, right at home in the atmosphere of doom and terror and chaos.
Llew, Macha, and Michael, convened..
what was to be done?
llew could not return to his realm on jersey, all flights were grounded.
he was, prettymuch stuck here with them.
Macha, already had plans.
knowing that it was merely a matter of when, the next god hammer would fall, Macha had made plans.
Out came the USGS maps, and the discussion of, what was to be done in the aftermath began.
there was absolutely no point in discussions of preventing the disaster.
even if the asteroid didn’t impact, the chaos and insanity that had devoured every city, was something that would likely never be recovered from.
leave it to the goddess of war, to have plans in place!!!
eastern Tennessee is an extremely fertile place, mountain ranges running both north and south, and east to west.
so long as an impact did not strike them directly, the multitude of valleys, hollows, rivers, and caves, would provide ample resources for survivors.
the Aos Sidhe set about planning , there was no question of it, they would reign, establish order in the aftermath, once again, the Aos Sidhe would establish kingdoms, realms, and secure the herds for posterity.
The humans, would have no clue as to what was really going on. No more than they had had in the past and likely, less understanding now than in past events. The Aos Sidhe had been to this rodeo before. there truly was nothing else to be done.
So, they planned, discussing where, how etc.
just north and west of the cabin, was the Powell valley, and Cumberland Gap.
a perfect location for the establishment of their herds,
good farmland, climate, plenty of water, relatively isolated, easy to defend and to contain...in short, a perfect location for their new kingdom.
five Aos Sidhe can accomplish wonders, reestablished as gods, and powers, it would be just as it had several times in the past.
the great cosmic game of whack a mole,
continues .
CHAPTER 35
Less than seventy two hours to plan, concieve, and execute.
Less than seventy two hours, until the end of the world.
Well, the end of the old world, that is. The sun will keep shinning, the world, will keep spinning, on the grand scale, nothing significant changes.
Of course, that is all a matter of perspective.
looking up, knowing the hammer is dropping, could only be amusing to Badbh. Morgan , being Morgan really didn't care, Michael had her attention. Macha, Babdh and Llew
Macha, focused upon securing the cabin, battening down the hatches. Llew, efficiently followed her instructions, experience and wisdom, directing him to offer no suggestions.
there was nothing else of a helpful nature he could do. The soon to be chaos and madness would be the perfect environment for the Morrigna.
Michael and Morgan,
checked and cleaned weaponry.
Elspeth, baked...
before the sun had set, they had done all they could do. Michael and Morgan set up an op/lp ( observation post, listening post) on the ridgeline. Secluded as they were, there were still a million or more panicked , stampeding cattle surround them. With no way to stand against the herds, all they could do was keep an eye open, and move out of the way.
When the shit hits the fan, the experienced, step to the side. Only fools stay in the line of fire. Only idiots get hit with the crap.
Through the night, into early morning they poured over maps, studied the region, established a plan.
When all is chaos, madness, and falling apart, it is the calm, decisive actors that prevail.
The question of where to find safety, shelter, became glaringly obvious.
The Cumberland Gap tunnels. The highway built through the mountain, connecting Tennessee with Kentucky, and the old train tunnel. These would provide shelter.
Rumour had it that end of the world/ nuclear war prep and supplies were hidden away in the complex tunnels. Whether that were true or not, did not really matter. The Aos Sidhe would seize control during the chaos of impact,
With a secure base, shelter, water, survival was assured. A secure base with which to preserve and manage, the food supply, the " herds" was a certain priority.
Machas cabin would best be reserved as their refuge, there being no farmable and to speak of, and no way to support the human herds, which the Aos Sidhe would depend upon , they needed a more suitable place ,
The Powell valley and Cumberland gap, quickly became the obvious choice.
Thus, the five of them, were perched, posted, waiting on the overlook.
They watched as the fireball formed, blazing across the sky, crying out, screaming, roaring in thunderous rage, the fire ball grew, until it passed beyond the northern Horizon. The impact was felt before the sound, a silent, grinding thunder. Followed quickly with A piercing wail of ignited air, roaring lion like, rumbling , building in intensity. The north became a sinister red haze that blanketed the horizon. The Aos Sidhe from their precarious mountain perch, looked on as the humans panicked, rioted, burned in Middlesborough, the shock wave from the impact rolling across the land, as if it had become a storm tossed sea. The Aos Sidhe observed with approval, as the small town of Cumberland Gap, had prepared, taking refuge within the mountain. Within the highway tunnel, people of Harrogate mixed with students of Lincoln university, huddled , cloaked in despair and fear. Some few hundred had sought refuge in the long abandoned train tunnel. That had been a horrid mistake on their part, none in the train tunnel survived the tidal convulsions of Earth and stone. More than half, in the highway tunnel, drowned when the mountain spewed forth the under ground aquifer into the the massive tunnel.
The Aos Sidhe moved, they knew would have to over awe the herds, become, be, more terrible than the destruction around them. More terrifying than the wrath of god that burned the skies, shook the land and convulsed the mountains.
The shock wave struck the great Cumberland mountains, redirected upwards, and neatly skipped over the Powell valley, to crash against Clinch Mountain,tearing through the rest of the Tennessee valley, wiping the land bare of any traces of the handiworks built by man. Channeled by the Mountains and western foot hills, the shockwave, crashed and broke itself , like the storm surge of a hurricane, on the sea shore. Badbh and Llew watched in awe at the wave of destruction that passed overhead. Macha, Morgan and Michael, scarcely made it into the highway tunnel ahead of the rolling waves of destruction. The 68 Dodge, was tossed ahead, fired out of the southern tunnel entrance as if a pea, shot from a straw. The car, becoming a crumpled, twisted mess the Aos Sidhe within, broken, battered, though surviving.
Directing a stampede is a chancy thing, difficult to control ,but, doable.
While chaos reigns around them, being the calm in the midst of the storm would create and establish leadership, order, hope.
One thing about the panicked stampeding herds, natural selection would be the rule.
the weak, the foolish, would perish quickly.
the remnant, the survivors, will be those most capable. A Brutal reality, that would serve to cull the herds, and, allow the Aos Sidhe to take on the mantle of saviors, protectors, rallying the herds to be easily controlled.
there will be plenty of fear, terror to go around,
far better to establish leadership , by being the heroes, than to claim power through fear.
best that the herds give up leadership willingly,
that was the only way in which to establish a secure order. A stable organization, a system that would whether the coming storms. Besides, the Morrigna and Llew, had been through this a few times already. They knew what to expect, they knew, from experience, how to take advantage of the unique opportunity presented. Humans had become exceedingly numerous, and , nuclear weapons, bio weapons, chemical weapons, were a threat to all sentient creatures. Not just the herds of humans that swarmed unchecked, un managed across the world. Though not by design or intention, the Fomorii, had ensured the preservation of the Aos Sidhe. The chaos after impact would cull the weak and the stupid from the masses, leaving only the strongest, smartest, most capable to survive.
that would also ,of course, mean the herds would be left with a higher remnant/population with more Aos Sidhe, DNA, that the diluted masses of the seven billion or so. Ironic, that what was intended to destroy the Aos Sidhe, would instead, ensure both survival and an increase in population of Aos Sidhe.
Badbh found the irony delicious, Macha, found it opportune, Llew , Llew argued within himselves the pros and cons. Morgan Was focused upon Michael, and Michael, was focussed upon Morgan.
So, when the fireball vanished over the northern horizon, the Aos Sidhe were in place, prepared to seize power and control. Ready, and waiting to act.
when the dust began to dissipate, the Aos Sidhe would already be, the heroic saviors, the natural leaders, the powers that be.
Chaos and madness bring opportunity. The only questions being, how, why, when, and where.
Questions the Aos Sidhe had already asked, answered, and prepared for several times before through the ages
Having answers while everyone else had only questions, having directions while everyone one else had only,Fear, panic, and confusion. Would in itself establish their clear dominance of the the survivors. Rallying them to their examples of leadership. Exactly what role the Aos Sidhe would take, remained to be established. The only certainty being their position at the top of the food chain. There would be time to contemplate their preferred, title in the chaos ahead.
The great game of Cosmic whackamole, engaged the world, reverting back, into the old ,original order. This time however, there would be no Fomorii to contend with,
Rather, there would only be, literally a handful to contend with. The Morrigna, and Llew privately exhulted, in the knowledge that the Aos Sidhe, would be the sole power , undisputed, left on the Third planet of Sol.
The passing fireball, wailed and roared, the impact, a thunder that shook the whole earth. And yes, the planet did indeed ring like a massive bell. Fire storms, earth quakes, tsunamis, massive storms enveloped the world.
Middlesbrough, was gone.
In fact, everything north of the Cumberlands and west of the Shenandoah, was , if not gone, flattened, wiped from the face of the earth. Weeks passed, the northern hemisphere had been cast into a sort of perpetual twilight. The dust raised by the impact still swirled, circulating , clouding over everything north of the equator. Temperatures dropped,
There could be no spring this year, not for north
America at least. Winter settled in and remained throughout the rest of the year. There was no spring, no summer, and no fall. There was only the relentless gray, the colors of death to be seen.
The Cumberland Gap tunnel, proved to be a brilliant move.
Turned out the rumours of supplies, and underground shelter were understated. Fuel, generators, barracks, food and medical supplies,
Plenty to feed a few thousand. Problem was, there were only a few hundred survivors.
the first months, but most perished, starving and freezing, then, the bioweapons took their toll. The chaos of the impact triggered the release of bio weapons stored. Airborne Rabies, Ebola, Super flu, not to mention the traditional nasties of disease decimated the survivors.
the Aos Sidhe set about establishing their, kingdom.
Gathering what survivors they could find, sheltering in the tunnel complex, the only thing to do was survive, hold on until the dust settled, until spring would return once again. Once blue skies returned,
the real work could begin.
Until then,
There was only the waiting. Waiting for nature to reassert herself. For the new climate, to settle down, establish itself.
Waiting for the years long winter, to end, and a new spring.
Until then,
There were , memories to untangle, hierarchies to establish, roles to be defined, plans to be made.
for the duration of the winter, the grey years as they came to be known, only The Aos Sidhe would venture out of the tunnels, collectively they all hoped for a spring to return, though, a return to ice age seemed certain.
CHAPTER 36
Morgan , Macha, and Michael, broken, battered and damaged, drifted through the other world, the world of memory and dreams. Bodies broken , brains bruised, skulls shattered, the comatose trio were unaware of the real world, the apocalyptic madness played out without their awareness or participation. Even the Aos Sidhe have some limitations. Even Aos Sidhe take time to heal, to repair severed nerves, to return their minds home from the other realm of memory and dream. It takes time to restore crushed and damaged brains.
Llew, frantic, taunted, goaded by a badly frightened Badbh, which is a phrase, in of which itself had never been considered or uttered before,
Llew Tore apart the battered coronet. One benefit of the old muscle car being, it was damn near built like a tank to begin with. In the now, that benefit was bloody inconvenient.
Morgan had had a few custom extras added. Full tube frame, five point harness seat belt rigs, along with the seriously built 440 six pack attack.
The tube frame had kept the interior of the car relatively intact, however, it did not survive the frenzied efforts of Llew. Nor had the roll cage saved more than the broken bodies of the passengers. The shockwave and water torrent had propelled the car, like a cannon ball fired from a cannon. Racing harnesses had not helped when the extreme forces tore the seats loose within the cage. The passengers had essentially became like three eggs, being scrambled in a crumpled box.
There a particular groaning scream that alloy steel emits when it is twisted, torn, and wrenched apart. Badbh, usually found that sound mildly amusing. Not in this instance though.
Llew half climbed into the main passenger compartment he had exposed, to gently, carefully, begin untangling the unconscious bodies of Morgan and Macha from the tormented wreck. Placing them ever so reverently , laid out along the road side. Then he returned, emerging with an unconscious Michael. Roughly dragging him out by an ankle. When Michaels head impacted on the asphalt, Llew released his hold and turned back to Morgan and Macha. Badbh was already examining them, checking for broken or displaced bones, of which there were quite a few. Neither Llew or Badbh paid any attention to Michael, laid out beside the wrecked car. Neither Morgan nor Macha were breathing. Neither of their skulls were intact. Smashed, deformed, leaking fluids. Badbh shook in a dark panic, she could not feel her sisters, neither one, they had vanished, gone away. For the first time in her existence, she was alone, alone in her head, her thoughts, and for the first time ever, she was afraid.
Michael, didn't seem to mind, he simply lay there quietly bleeding and scarcely breathing. Where once, had been his face, was now a bleeding ruin, lost in time and space, Michael didnt care that he had no face...
Swirling flames and whirling waters, merged, danced and played. Macha flailed about in the chaos. Desperately seeking up and down or any sort of direction. There was no way to define one. An increasingly stressed Macha flailed about, searching for some sort of horizon, some space defining mark. There was none.
Occasionally, the sound of galloping horses, taunted her. Try as she might, she could not see them. Though, they bore her into dream.
Images, like blurred holograms flickered in and out of visibility. Memories of Machas bane, took form amongst the cacophony, A determined Morgan played with the whiling dervishes as she swam amongst the many images while searching for Michael. After a brief eternity, Morgan realized that there was no Michael to be found only ancient memories. She was lost in Machas bane when the dance began.
Llew struggled to think of what to do. A scant glance had shown the faintest rise and fall of Michaels chest, he would clearly survive. The other two though, lay limp and still as death, of the bright auras, barely flickering flames scarcely showed.
Badbh was shaking, weeping tears of blood. Screaming , "Where are you?" The frenzy was consuming her reason. Fear, had come to claim its season in her heart.
Llew, was powerless, There was nothing that he knew to do. Badbh would not let him near the bodies. Her aura, a magnificent storm of flames. Llew was actually afraid himself, which was new to him as well.
The Sword moaned in pleasure from the wrecked car, the Spear, cackled, the chaos, fury and terror, of Badbh had brought an intense feeling of joy. The godslayers drank deep , relishing the madness, death, destruction all around.
What to do?
Where to go?
How? Llew tried to think.
Looking at the tunnel entrance, he realized that nothing within had survived. Water flowed out, there were bodies amid debris floating , only Llew and Badbh had survived the shockwave. There was no humans anywhere near, left alive. The northern skies, glowed seeming to burn, an aurora , shined over the mountains. The world, silent now save for Badbhs raucous screams.
With no real thought or plan, Llew started pacing, then inspired, he ran.
There had been a military contingent, helicopters, trucks, APCs, gathered at the Lincoln memorial university.
It was possible something could be workable. Something to drive or fly.
The plan taking shape in his minds eyes, get them back to Machas cabin. It would still be intact. The dreams of kingdom, had faded into the black.
At any rate, there may be survivors on which to feed.
As it was, Llew scored!
One of the medevac choppers was miraculously intact. A few stunned soldiers had survived and wandered aimlessly here and there.
After a quick snack,
Llew located a Warrant officer, a pilot that survived. Quick work had her enthralled, along with an adhoc aircrew, intact, the blackhawk took flight.
The trip back to the wrecked car took barely minutes. Landing, the crew followed Llew to the frantic Badbh at the road side. The pilot remained on board the helicopter.
While Badbh snarled, and fed, Llew transferred Morgan, Macha, and Michael to the waiting medevac. Returning to gather Badbh, he simply pointed at the aircraft, and said, " home? " Badbh stared at him, Llew then said, " Elspeth? Elsie? " Badh moved to the wrecked car , tearing into the crumpled mess of the cars trunk retrieving the two cases within. Clutching the godslayers tightly ,Llew steered her to the waiting chopper. While the northern horizon burned, they took flight. Following Badbhs vague directions in just about two hours, they had located Machas refuge. The Cabin, barn and hidden hollow, were intact, looking untouched by the conflagration. Lights shone, smoke drifted from the chimney. Outside of the violently roiling horizon to the north, here, all was calm and quiet.
The pilot set the blackhawk down with barely enough clearance amongst the trees and buildings to land. Still, as tight as it was, there had been evac missions in Afghanistan, that had been much more difficult. This task, proved easy when compared, plus, they were not under fire.
Elspeth Waited at the front door, shotgun in hand until she saw Badbh emerge carrying Machas lifeless body. Llew was next cradling Morgan.
Elspeth ran to meet them,
after a few words from Llew, Elspeth retrieved Michaels lifeless form. During the flight, he too had stopped breathing.
They laid the trio down on the big pit sofain the main room Badbh climbed the stairs alone with the godslayers. leaving Llew with a teary eyed Elspeth. There was no way Badbh would leave them within reach of the highly agitated Llew. She had noticed his many hungering glances at the weapons cases during the flight.
" What happened? Will they live? " Llew shrugged, pacing to the well stocked bar ,and began chugging a bottle of Wild Turkey.
" I' ve no idea, bringing them here is as far as I have managed to think or do. They were... " Llew gestured vaguely, " damaged from the shock wave. "
Elspeth wept, looking over the ruined trio. Shooting suspicious side glances at Llew.
CHAPTER 37
The realm of dreams and memories holds mystery:
Michael checked his rifle meticulously. The M-21 , an modified M-14, functioned flawlessly. Sweat flowed freely along his spine, what he had first thought was fine powdered snow, had been determined to be fine white ash covering everything, blowing about like snow. Sticking to the rifle , dusting his clothes.
Something was not right . Michael felt out of place, he couldn't remember how he got here, or where here was. The last clear memory had been as they had entered the Kentucky side of the tunnel. Then, blackness, followed by this desolation of ash.
The light breeze raised whirling dust devils,
The air stunk with an burnt, everything smell. Sulfur, plastic, wood, a miasma of putrid chemical residues and burnt meat. Michael fished through his jacket and BDU pockets for a kerchief. Feeling truly foolish when he realized that a camouflage keffiyeh, was wrapped about his head. Only leaving his face exposed.
Chagrined, Michael secured it , leaving only his eyes exposed. The air was thick with ash and difficult to breathe. There were no stars, no sun, no landmarks to show him where he was, or, a direction. The air was so ash congested that he only had a few meters of visibility in any direction. Each foot step, raised little puffs of fine ash as he moved.
All sound seemed, muffled. It was surreal.
Had the impact done this? Had the asteroid burnt the world? Memories flowed, merging, recent ones with the distant past mixed with horrific snatches of shared memories with Morgan.
Michael froze in place, Morgan, where was Morgan? A fear chilled his spine. Followed by the confused question, who was Morgan? Michael squatted down, pausing his movement to gather his thoughts, find some sort of bearings, make some sense of just what sort of hell he was in, where he was, when he was, how he had gotten here. The many whirling memories were highly confusing, chaotic and unstable. Somewhere, in the distance a Raven Called. Otherwise he was completely alone in the desolation.
Macha ran, feet pounding, heart pumping. The course of beaten earth and clay a brownish ribbon stretched across the kelly green field. Her feet, snatched dust from the track, leaving clear prints with each running step. She was barefoot, wearing only her tartan bratt, and a heavy torc about her neck. Sweat coated her body, mixed with dust , crafting rivulets of wet clay streaks along her legs.
Why she had let herself talk herself into this ridiculous race was anyones guess. Holding back, was difficult at best.
Gritting her teeth as she passed by Deirdre watching from the sidelines, a pang of, was it jealousy? Envy? Whatever it was, was a damned irritating feeling. Macha , catching a glance of her too beautifully adorable heart shaped, rosy cheeked , hand shaped, blush.
Wait? Hand shaped? Macha stopped running. Digging her feet in, Macha skidded several feet, leaving ankle deep furrows in the hard packed dirt track. Turning back to stare at Deirdre, and the hand print on her face, Macha forgot the race. Rage ignited. Three quick breathes and, Macha was running once again. Now, she held nothing back.
In seconds, she half lapped the track, quickly gaining on the chariot. Dougal, whipped the racing team frenziedly, the matched Greys, were literally killing themselves with the strain. Macha, sensing the faltering heart beats and labored breathing, pushed harder.
A second later she was leaping, gaining on the chariot, landing behind a truly surprised Dougal. To the onlookers, it all happened in a blur. One moment Dougal was leaning forward focused on driving his team to death, the next heart beat a headless corpse sagged in place, reigns still wrapped tightly around out stretched arms, blood fountaining from the ragged stump of neck, where a fair blonde lords head had been.
Macha had leapt back off of the chariot, as it slowed down, the horses on verge of collapse. Turning, she hurled a shocked Dougals head back, towards his father and mother, standing beside Deirdre.
Dougals eyes were blinking, his mouth working while the head rolled to a stop at Deirdres feet. Then an enraged Macha was snatching the roughly severed head up by the long braided blonde hair. To slam it full force into Fergus shocked face. The last thing Fergus would ever see was the wide eyed look of terror on Dougals face just before it impacted with his head. The force was great, Dougals head, merged with his father Fergus face. The sound was a sort of meaty thunk, crunch, and splashing melon sound. Fergus dropped in place. The two skulls had, merged. Fergus body lay twitching just barely becoming aware that it was dying. Deirdre, leapt to the side, but she couldn't avoid being splattered with merged brain matter and crushed skull shards. Macha appeared to have materialized out of thin air beside a retching Deirdre. Dougals mother, Fergus wife, fainted dead away at the sight, splattered with her abusive husband and son's meeting of minds.
The crowds were silent. All eyes upon the spectacle playing out. Deirdre looked up into Machas burning gaze, before collapsing in shock and dismay. Macha truly hated wife beaters, this excursion had provided a two for one special. Without a word, save a croaking call, Macha leapt away, this time running across the well kept field, disappearing into the nearby forest. A distressed murder of crows took to the skies protesting the frightened presence of the thing of fury that raced beneath the trees.
The watching Ulliad, was still registering fear and fury in an reaction as Macha vanished into the bordering forest. The Kings counselors, were frozen in place, the fresh new corpses, twitching as the disgusting mess stained the hard packed clay. It is not nice to piss off a divine nature. Llew had watched it all in smiling awe. He was overwhelmed with a passionate flame of desire, mixed with fury and amusement.
Badbh, danced a gleeful jig, whirling about, revelling in the chaos and fury. The race had turned out to be entertaining after all.
CHAPTER 38
The Iron shod chariot wheels jounced along the Causeway. Rumbling and rattling along, racing along the Corduroy roadway.
the Sea driven winds, raced, dancing amongst the heather, skittering over the peat moors.
Llew relished the sharp tange, the taste, on the seas winds, like fresh blood and rare meat.
The thrill of being momentarily out of control each time the jouncing, turned to full bounces and the Chariot would become airborne.
Only to be snatched back onto the Causeway by the weighted efforts of the Black and The Gray Mares that drew it all along at breakneck speed.
Crows cackled and called from the distance. Gulls flew hither and thither searching for morsels to feast upon.
The world was near perfectly balanced.
Llew relished the peace,
Even tho a part of him knew beyond a doubt,
That peace is the anomaly, order, and joy, are temporary illusions at best.
Even so,
there is no reason not to enjoy the fullness of lifes simple joys. Pure, untainted, unrestrained.
there will always be people that come along and disrupt the flow.
unfortunately , people had to happen.
No, not the cattle simulcrums, the Aos Sidhe had created and bred to feast upon.
People, The Fair folk. The Aos Sidhe.
Seriously, Who cares what dinner or breakfast thinks?
Llews mind flew back and forth, three perspectives seeking dominance.
Their only agreement between them
Thirst, hunger, longing.
One over arching question blazed brightly within, igniting fear, fanning the flames into near panic and madness.
Just exactly what had the Morrigna wrought this time?
Last go round had taken two thousand years to settle.
What now?
†*********************†
Nemain paced.
Badbh giggled,
Macha scowled.
The Morrigna considered the child.
Clear evidence.
The mark of Llew shone about and upon the bright beautiful baby boy.
A vengeful fire raged behind the six emerald flames, gazing down at the hated proof of betrayal...
The mother, cowered, terrified, weeping, gasping for air, trying to beg and plead. Pathetic and annoying really.
How could he have betrayed her with....
This mewling snot dripping mess before her? This display made it all the more insulting and humiliating.
The King, sat frozen, watching silent, helpless to be anything other than witness to the divine storm breaking in his hall.
The Morrigna moved , spiraling about the child swaddled in wolf skins, a child smiling and waving clenched fists, happy, uncaring , welcoming the surrounding storm. The pretty flames that twirled, flowed, swirled around him.
Morgan made Eye contact with the babe.
Gazes locked the child farted loudly and laughed. The damn burst.
All of the anger, fear, pain burst into laughter.
The sun bright smile of innocence and mischief pierced like Spear thrusts through the Morrignas hearts.
Burning, writhing with rage and humiliation,
Pierced by beauty and pure innocence.
The Morrigna screamed in frustration, storming out of the hall. "Llew" echoed forth, their battle cry. .
Connor, the king, sighed, relieved that the Goddess had not slaughtered his nephew, hurriedly signaled members of his Fianna,
" Take my sister, and my nephew and heir, hide them guard them! "
Fergus nodded assent, swept up the cooing child. Conan, gently lifted the still trembling Dechtire from the floor. The two captains of the Fianna called to their men.
†********************†
Sualtim would shelter mother and child.
He could no no other in honor even tho it had been his wedding, to Dechtire that Llew had disrupted with violence, kidnapping, and rape...
Dechtire had definitely not gone willingly.
The babe, bore no responsibility for the evil of the Gods.
Sualtim, of the Fianna, Kings champion, warrior of the Ulliad, had only one obvious choice of action when Conan and Fergus showed up out of the mist and darkness.
There was no hesitation. Sualtim did not bother to even consider his own feelings on the matter. Honor and duty were clear. "Death, is lighter than a feather. Duty, is heavier than a mountain: my soul unto the mountain."
it is a way of life,
a purpose in existence, not merely some slogan.
The way of the Warrior.
time passed,
the child grew, learned, became...
a legend. A living myth, manifest,
always from a secure distance, Llew watched, in pleasure, and no small pride as his son grew, became,
dashing hither and yon, leading the Morrigna on a merry chase,
distracting them, directing their fury away from the child,
llew manuevered, plotted, planned,
sowed chaos, feeding the furies of the Morrigna,
Distracting, redirecting,
constantly moving forward,
until that day,
the moment the Morrigna remembered that there was, a child.
the child, a living testimony of betrayal, of shame,
furious,
They began a search, focusing, with a singular intent, find that child.
llew grew desperate in his schemes to distract her, to no avail.
the Morrigna ignored his machinations and distractions
†***************†
The chariot had no traction upon the Corduroy entrance road.
slamming and bouncing out of control, ricocheting off of the Kerb stones and walls at the entrance,
Llew rather noisily if ungraciously slid through the open gateway.
The Morrigna, the storm, had long departed. Searching for, Llew.
The mother and babe were gone, hidden away.
Connor posted guards and refused to come out of his round house. Ignoring Llews threats and supplications.
Eventually, Llew tired of his own antics and departed. Rattling away in his chariot. Plotting, planning, conceiving of how he would deal with this mess.
At least the Morrigna had not done more than terrify the mother and glare at the child. She had not harmed them happily. However...
The Morrigna now stalked Llew,
Enraged, betrayed, angry, jealous, broken hearted storms seeking his light.
How had she found out?
Llew had been on his way to secure and hide away the child himself.
The Morrigna need never have known.
Well, at least for a few centuries more at least.
Now,
Rage and fury and heart break are racing across the land.
Survival may well not be guaranteed.
Death and destruction are the only certainty.
Chaos, agony, rage, fury,
Vengeance, all the hell spawned nightmares now stalked Llew, complicating things considerably.
First, secure the babe while avoiding the Morrigna. Then, hide the child well away.
No telling what any of the Morrigna may decide to do.
Llew had his hands full worrying about surviving The Morrignas calamity. Theres no way he could function, guard ,plot, plan and take care of or worry about a newborne simultaneously. A God he may style himself,
omnipotence was something he lacked however.
Better if the Morrigna sought Llew, not the child.
The Race was on.
Llew laughed at the madness of it all.
This was turning out to be more fun than Llew could have ever imagined.
Everything on the line everything at risk, destruction imminent,
with only Llews wit, skill, and luck to see him through the quest.
This actually made life interesting.
Llew wondered why he had waited so long, what he had worried about? This had set his heart racing, his mind burning.
This was certainly much more fun than Llew had anticipated.
A Lover of the Darkness:
To the Madness wed....
One must pay the piper before one may call the tune....
The thing is,
The tune,
the tune, the song
decides the dance,
the dance,
Defines the tune.
twisting and turning, laughing and burning,
It is all just a dance of the damned.
the chase was on, the game afoot,
Llew set about organizing ,planning, multitudes of ways to distract and engage her.
keep the Morrigna focused upon him,
and she would not focus upon the child.
the child was everything.
in this,
Llew discovered,
his second failures.
He was clearly no ones savior...
CHAPTER 40
Crows called, circling over head in murderous joy. Inspiring Llew to drive the horses faster, harder.
Winding up, around the Hillock, hoping against hope that he had not been too late. Which of course, he was.
Cresting the Small round hill Llew could see the murder cawing and circling overhead.
Setanta was still standing, leaning back against the standing stone as if resting, Maybe it was not too late then!
Llew called out to him. Only to be met with an inhuman silence and a scrabbling, scuffling sound. As if crowning the standing stone a bloodied, bedraggled Babh, perched atop the stone.
The unholy trinity had captured and bound the champion to the stone.
Approaching slowly, Llew looked closely, as what he had first assumed had been ropes, proved out to be the organs, the intestines of Setanta, exposed to the elements binding him upright against the stone. Nemain and Macha scampered into view, cackling like angry crows.
" Aye, Ye mae sae ee had, a lot of guts to support him. " Nemain spit, snarling,
" Turned out to be more of a man than his father" Macha brandished her gory trophies.
Llew stood still, frozen in place momentarily, shocked by the nightmare vision before him.
Badbh cackled and contorted herself about, to kiss the still fresh corpse upon the lips.
Macha hurled the battered, severed heads of Sualtim and Dechtire to land, rolling before the snorting, huffing horses. " Seems your paramour was no more faithful than you are milord. "
Llew stood in silence. What was he going to possibly say beyond inarticulate screams of grief, fury, frustration, rage? Llew, drawing shuddering breaths once again began approaching the standing stone and the body of his only son, Setanta, CuChullain, the Hound of Cullen, champion of the Ulliad.
There was not a spot on the body that did not proclaim witness to the violence that had claimed the life of Setanta save, for his face, now frozen, contorted in agony and fury, a screaming silent defiance of fate, death, life, eternity.
Llew felt a hole open within him, a vacuum that stole his breathe away. Knees trembling, his entire body in fact, trembling, Llew fought intense hellish battles within. Outwardly, only an occasional flicker of lightning danced in his eyes.
The Morrigna scampered, cackling, dancing, mocking Llew as they withdrew. Laughing, singing,
Celebrating their vengeance, The Morrigna twirled, whirled, cavorted and capered.
Llew made no move after them. Feeling his sons body still warm, still supple. Llew set about trying to gently disentangle Setanta from the Stone and from himself. Gently replacing organs and ropy, glistening Loops of intestines back into the body.
Maybe something could be salvaged of this mess after all.
Llew would not abandon the plan, regardless of the Morrignas, provocations.
Preparing the Body, Llew placed the corpse onto the woven leather flooring of the Chariot, climbing onboard to stand over what remained of his son. Llew turned his Chariot south. It would be a long journey back to the Brugh Na Mourne.
Time needed to rearrange his composure, to begin the Back up plan.
Setanta had earned the name, the Hound of Ulster soundly. Several Strawberry haired, saphire eyed children attested to that fact. There remained viable genetic materials to work with. Thus, all was not lost. What had changed was the schedule, and the flavor of the plan. Some of life's spices, brought bitterness and or sour tastes to vengeance.
Sighing deeply in weariness and frustration, Llew performed the Burial rites. The plan was disrupted, delayed is all.
Patience is often the only option available.
Time,
Time to turn the burning fragments of his shattered heart, into icy coals. Time, to plan for vengeance. Time to establish, Justice. Time, to grasp every possible aspect of righteous justice, merciless vengeance and total retribution.
Time, which Llew has plenty of.
Time, patience, perseverance. Time to nurse and grow the grievances. Time to relish and revel in the sweet joys of rage and pain. Time to fully indulge the sensuality of the experience.
That is an odd thing with being, effectively immortal. Lines blur, cross, entangle. Pleasures become unspeakable agony, pain becomes release, joy, rage, all merge into a maddening miasma of,
Nothing.
Numb,
the Only things one may actually feel, to experience, becomes, the extremes.
Immortal motivations and desires are complicated. Mortals are clueless as to exactly how complicated memory, emotion, need, desire, can be, never mind how complex twisted demented and perverse the basic reality of existing becomes.
It all swirls into a madness of experience in which the only purpose, the absolute meaning becomes ,
the experience itself.
A profound sensuality becomes point purpose and reason. The experience, the feeling, becomes all. The experience is the purpose, cause, reason, and,
Meaning.
This integrates into fascinating moral and ethical dilemmas.
What is ethical, moral and righteous, for the spider, is terror, chaos, horror, for the fly.
Strange how both views can be true.
Yet:
Look around yourself.
map it out.
seize just one moment and measure it.
Next:
Question your desires, your needs, your necessary necessity.
Then integrate it all. Embrace how they all flow together..
Experience, data, intensity
how the Various components exist and
Integrate.
reality , what a joke!
Everything is based upon the complex interactions, of the edges of various quantum singularities.
Imagine:
Each sentience, is in effect and affect,
a singular point . A point singularity.
Common/shared, Reality,
is in fact, the Various interactions of each point singularity, at the respective boundaries of each individual event horizon.
Lmao...
Soo.....
We, each and every, sentient existence is in fact a point singularity ( A Black Hole) the fabric, the quantum foam of reality, is the friction, of each event horizon interacting with the surrounding event horizons.
There are no paradoxes.
reality itself,
is the unlikely event.
perception also, is another unlikely event.
All of existence is:
An unlikely event.
Now,
mix wave mechanics, probability,
potential energy,
Released( directed/discharged) energy,
and VOILA!
the lovely madness of reality.
Mix possibilities,
Probabilities,
perception,
And...
social pressures, sine waves and algorithms set and focused culturally to reinforce concepts of identity and perception.
Michael stepped away from Llew.
shaking his head, thinking to himself, " so,
it really is fourth dimensional chess, while the opponent,
is playing checkers.."
Thus,
one may WIN the chess match
while losing the unplayed game of checkers And,
One may win a checkers match while losing the chess game.
the trick, apparently is.
Perspective?
which indicates needs/perception of needs, expression of needs, and
actions to meet those needs.
Perspective?
Perception?
the perception of perspective is the perspective of perception.
just another of the many mysteries of existence.
the old chicken or the egg question,
which demands an answer while ignoring the obvious.
what came first?
GOD of course.
That however is the answer in the question everyone is terrified to ask.
at what point does justice become vengeance?
how can a righteous desire breed such evil effects?
llew would spend centuries, eons, contemplating this.
Still, doggedly persistent in his plan.
regardless of how she provokes him,
how enraged, wounded, heart broken she renders him,
llew vowed, he would do her right.
not in vengeance,
nor a twisted sense of justice,
simply because,
llew loved her,
llew failed her,
the triune nightmare would not exist,
could not exist, had Llew not failed in his most crucial duty.
He,
llew had failed to either protect her, or, rescue her.
he had been the one to discover them, rampaging through the wastes,
he had been the one to take up the burden of the godslayers,
llew had been the one,
to destroy Balor/Baal,
to bring genocidal fury in retribution.
that was all after the fact though, too late to save her, too late to save or protect any of them.
driven by a guilt and shame, haunted by an agony of failure,
llew continued his plan.
he would see her whole again.
he would rescue her from the hell and madness of her fury.
he would, see her heart brought to life again.
even if he had to betray all of existence to make it so.
this time, he would not fail her.
Llew Drifted through memories, dreams, plans.
Michael, watched from afar, from his place wandering between dream and memory.
Morgan and Macha, watched over them all, Michael, Llew, and Badbh.
CHAPTER 41
Is this love?
Is this lust?
Is this fire
Or dust?
Is this something
even gods can't understand?
is this wrong?
is it right?
is this evils respite?
Here,
in this Dance of the Damned.
*****†††******* † †*****
Babdh contemplated the look on Llews face. She found it intriguing. An expression of confused desire, wanton lust, curiosity and abject terror. Held together with an iron will. An unflinching gaze, that flashed between madness, delight, fury, lust. A lightning storm blazing directed directly, at her.
She had never seen her own heart reflected so openly, so clearly. Damn him. Gods love. Gods love through eons. A thing Badbh had spent millennia in denial of, doing her utmost to bury within madness, fury, the blindness of rage. Damn him. Fury ignited, Badbh snatched up the hand axe laying on the hearth, hurling it at Llew. Laughing, he casually caught it. Damn the man!!! Babdh was even more turned on. No wonder Nemain had been so, infuriated. No wonder Cathabodua, had fallen in love with him. Damn him! Llew smiled, " Och my darlin, Aye, I love you as well! " Butterflies fluttered within her. Damn the man. She couldn't stop the radiant grin that erupted.
Elspeth watched silently from behind the swinging door to the kitchen. Part of her wanted to run. Most of her wanted to run to be honest. The silly grin on Badbhs face had to be the most frightening thing Elspeth had ever seen. All six of her fangs extended, a mad joy lighting her emerald eyes. Badbh appeared the living essence of malevolence, madness and oddly, mischief. Llew, Sapphire eyes burning was clearly besotted. To think that Elspeth had began to think Llew had potential, only to spy this stupidity.
The man should be running away. Not, drooling and smiling like some brain damaged idiot. Elspeth decided to take up residence in her safe room. She certainly did not want to suffer through hearing what was apparently unfolding. Knowing it was about to happen was horrific enough.
Millennia in the making, the storm of love and passions rage finally broke. Good thing the furniture was well built and sturdy.
Much Later, sipping coffee, Llew watched Badbh moving about the wrecked cabin.
The Sword and Spear whispered and moaned to both of them.
A new world struggled to live,
Life , was good.
One day Morgan, Macha and Michael would wake.
What Kingdom would be awaiting them?
Llew decided ,
It will be , as it will be. His eons of plotting were at an end.
Llew had all he wanted.
Badbh.
Here ends Midnight Requiem, volume One of the Dance Of The Damned.
Look for Volume Two,
The Dawn Gods War.
.