Chapter 11: Cherries

Jack was a little girl, wrestling with a monster. She was giving it all she had, using every trick he'd ever taught her, showing no fear. Maybe she thought she was holding her own, but Riddick knew the thing was well fed, lazy, teasing, enjoying the momentary defiance of its prey. And Riddick knew that when it got bored, she was dead. He tried to intervene, to rip this thing of teeth and talons off of her, but his muscles were frozen. He could only watch, sick, knowing what was coming.

The monster had her down, pinned. She was strangely unafraid, even pleased. Stupid, Jack, he thought, anguished, helpless, raging. This isn't a good thing. Then the monster morphed into something that looked just like him, still pinning her down, but grinning. "Got you," his own voice whispered. Both her little wrists were held above her head in one massive hand. The other hand was on her throat, gently, palm over her jugular. He knew what his double was doing. Feeling her pulse in his hand. He loved feeling her blood pulse underneath his hands. Always had. Liked it even more now. He tried again to step in, pull the heavy body from her, even if it was his own. But he was still paralyzed.

She rolled her eyes. "Shit. You win again."

"You did good, kid," his double said, approvingly. "Do you know what you did wrong?"

"Bein' born?"

He heard himself rumble, amused. "We all did that. I mean today."

"Shouda hit you in the balls."

His double grinned, delighted. "Yeah. But no. It's actually really simple. All you got is speed and flexibility. You'll never been strong enough to fight me on my own terms. Make me fight on yours." He leaned his head forward, sniffed her neck. His own voice whispered, low and rough. "And never, ever, let someone like me get a good grip on you."

This all happened, Riddick thought distantly. We did this. When she was a little girl. Shit. Again and again. Smelling her. Tripping on her heart beat. Pinning her down. Did I really want to fuck her, even then? She tried to buck him off. It was the wrong thing to do. His double agreed, frowning down. "Don't do that."

"I'm supposed to just lie back and take it?"

"That'd be smart, yeah. Wait for your shot, kid. Don't meet strength with strength if you don't got more of it."

"So what do I do?"

"If I'm around? Wait for me to save you. Hardly anyone would kill a sweet treat like you. We'd have some time."

Did I say that? Did she think it was a promise? He swallowed. Wasn't it a promise? The little girl morphed into Kyra underneath him. And it was him, he wasn't watching in the shadows any more, it was his body pinning her down, her body, her like she was in Crematoria, all hard and bitter and bloody and strong and drop dead gorgeous. He wanted to fuck her so bad it hurt. Her voice was a weapon. "My hero. You left me for monsters."

He shook his head. "Left you someplace safe and pretty. You're the one who escaped from paradise. And then I stormed the fuckin' gates of hell for you. I've been a good guy." He lowered his lips to her throat, kissed it roughly. Smelled her scent the way his double had. Not afraid. Not getting much meat. Not fertile.

She snorted. "Yeah. You just keep telling yourself that. But I know, even if my stupid little doppleganger is buying it. You didn't do it for me. You did it for you. And some day, I will make you pay for it." He chuckled against her. Raised up slightly, pulled a knife from his pants. Her eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

"Open your mouth."

At that, she pressed her lips together hard, shook her head. He shifted his grip on her hands, put some weight on them. She's gonna be bruised, some part of him observed, regretfully. Gently, he traced those lips with the tip of the knife. "Come on, baby. Can't use your blade when it's trapped in there. Give it to me." She shook her head again. He pressed the knife in between her lips carefully enough that there was only a tiny bit of blood. Her eyes went wide. He whispered, low, "give me the blade or I'll cut it out of you."

He wasn't sure if she believed him, but she opened her mouth. The blade was right there, like a cherry held between her teeth. He used his own knife to flick it to the other side of the room. Deliberately laid his knife down close enough for her to grab, if he wasn't pinning her wrists. Her eyes fixed on his knife longingly. He searched her mouth with fingers that made her gag until he was satisfied there was nothing there more deadly than her tongue. She turned her head and spat. Glared at him. "Asshole. That thing's saved my life."

He grinned down at her, and suddenly there were two of him again. The one watching. And the one doing. The one doing whispered, "don't you want to die? Isn't that why you came lookin' for me? I am Death. The Destroyer of Worlds." He watched himself kiss her bloody lips tenderly, raise himself off of her body. Let go of her wrists rolled her over, pulled up her hips, hooked the knife into the waistband of her pants and slit them open. Nicked the skin and the smell of her sweet blood was maddening, intoxicating, transporting. She cursed and tried to scramble away. He got his knees on to her shredded pants, trapping her. Very deliberately, he placed the blade of the knife against her throat.

She froze. "You wouldn't."

"News to me," his own voice laughed. His double opened his pants one handed, positioned himself, and thrust into her hard. She screamed and bucked and tried to twist away, grazing her neck against the knife. He heard himself laugh again. He felt himself thrust into her. Three more thrusts and she stopped fighting. He was almost disappointed with her. Then she took one long breath and twisted her neck against the knife, hard, severing the jugular. She went limp under him, her blood cascading over his hand.

Riddick jerked awake, heart pounding. He'd rolled away from Jack in the darkness and now he groped for her. She woke with his hands on her throat and the heady scent of her terror made him groan. He managed to move his hands, run them down her body. Checking for wounds that couldn't be there. He wasn't holding a knife. He hadn't pinned her wrists hard enough to bruise. Only a dream. I didn't kill her. Not this time.

"It's okay, Jack," he whispered, his voice ragged. "Bad dream. Thought you were--" he broke off. "Thought you were dead." He pressed his forehead into hers, hooked a heavy thigh over her hips, pinning her close. He could feel her rapid breathing.

Her voice cracked. "Can – can you turn on the light?"

He nodded, bumping her forehead with his own. "Lights dim," he whispered, and the room filled with a soft silvery light.

She released a shuddering sigh against his face. "You scared me." She reached for his cheek, touched it gently. He groaned again. She tried, awkwardly, to get her arms around him. To comfort him. For dreaming he'd killed her. Poor kid. Poor stupid kid. I gotta take better care of her. I gotta not be the bad guy. "It's okay. I'm okay." She was trying to make her voice soothing, to keep her fear out of it.

He nuzzled her cheek with his own. "Yeah." He kissed her softly on the lips. "Fuckin' glorious." He could almost taste the blood he'd spilt in the dream. Kissed her harder. Rolled her on to her back and straddled her. Kissed her throat roughly where the knife must have cut her. She made a small noise, afraid again.

"Not so fast," she whispered. "Please." She stroked his back with her soft hands and he shuddered. He took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down. Kissed down her neck, her chest, her breasts, the impossible softness of her skin surreal against the memories of that skin in his dream, so much rougher than this and littered with scars. I should be horsewhipped for this, he thought, irrationally. She died under me and all I can think of is how much I wanna fuck her. He kissed a small circle around her right breast, felt the nipple harden against his cheek. Took it into his mouth and suckled it, gently, worshipfully. She made another small noise. He sucked harder and her breath caught. He glanced up at her face as well as he could with his lips on her breast and could see her eyes glazing over with pleasure.

He switched to the other breast and her breath hitched. The scent of her desire was sweating from her armpits, from between her legs. He groaned again. Dragged his lips down her chest, her belly, her pelvis, thrust his tongue between her legs. She gasped again. "Slow down," she pleaded. "Riddick, I can't go from dead sleep to abject terror to sex this fast."

He chuckled. Kissed the surface of her pelvis, pulled himself back up to her lips. "Okay." He reached down and took his cock in his hand, rubbed it against her. She tensed, unready. He relented. Kissed her lips hungrily again, then kissed and sucked and nuzzled her breasts until she was panting, arching, thrusting herself against him. He raised and twisted his hips slightly and was inside of her, thrusting and panting himself. Buried his face against her soft neck, pressed his lips hard against the pulse, and stopped thinking.

She was sleeping peacefully. He let his hand sink into her head, just to be sure. No dreams. Kissed her on the forehead, pulled himself away. Dressed silently, gazing at her. Took a deep breath, reached into himself, and he was back in the Underverse, falling. Let there be land, he thought, and the lone and level sands stretched far away. He smiled, grimly. "Eris," he called. "The Furyan Purifier. The last."

Found him sitting at a table, scrutinizing a chart. "Hail, brother," he called. "You went back to the Necropolis, I hear?" His voice was light, ironic. "I am glad. What brings you to death's other kingdom?"

Riddick frowned at him. "Ya know, I could have used you. Rather than have you walk into the fire. Kinda self centered."

The man shrugged. "You think so? I think I played my role. You were what was needed. You burned with it. Revenge, immortal hate, and courage never to submit or yield. What is else not to be overcome?"

Someone else told me that. "Whatever. I could use you now. Come back with me."

The man sighed. Made a note on the chart. "Leave death's dream kingdom. For what?"

"I wanna beat Zhylaw, not just kill him."

The man's clear eyes sharpened. "Really?"

Riddick laughed. "Oh yes." He hesitated. "There's a girl."

"The spear maiden? The Lord Marshal's little mistress?"

Huh? "Huh?"

The man sighed. "Kyra?"

Riddick hesitated. The Lord Marshal's little mistress? Is that what she is? "Yeah. Real name's Jack. Don't want her comin' back here when she--" he broke off. "I don't want her to spend eternity bein' tortured."

The man's pale eyes pierced him. "Why? She's not one of us, is she?"

Riddick grunted. "I ain't exactly one of us either."

Eris exhaled, noisily. "This is easy. All you have to do is give her the mercy of the True Death. Any junior purifier can show you how. Her soul will be extinguished. There will be nothing left to hurt."

"I'm not killing her." Riddick's voice was flat. "Find another way."

"I know of nothing else."

"What'll it take for you to find out?"

"The supplication of a dead man's hand?" At Riddick's blank look Eris continued, "I do not know. But I'm willing to try. For the right reward. You're the Lord Marshal now."

"Yeah."

"Who is the Purifier?"

"Never got 'round to namin' no one."

Eris nodded, thoughtfully. "Me. The wanderer returned."

"Done."

The other man smiled. "And I get a free hand?"

"Long as you don't undermine me or--" he broke off. "As long as you're on my side. I need – I need someone on my side. Someone who knows stuff."

Eris smiled. "Acceptable. One more thing."

"Name it."

"Furya."

"Huh?"

"I want Furya. I want to bring it back."

Do I have the power to do that? "What the fuck ever man. It's yours."

"You'll give me what I need?"

"You save Jack, you can have anything you want."

"Then we have a deal."

Riddick pulled out a knife. Slit his arm, started to offer it to Eris. The man held up a hand. "The knife will be adequate." Bemused, Riddick handed it over. Eris ran a finger down the bloody blade, delicately licked the blood from that finger. Riddick grasped his shoulder, reached into himself, and they were back in the Lord Marshal's bedroom.

While he was gone Jack had curled into a little ball, looking very childish. He pressed his lips to her forehead and for an instant, he was in her dream. She was a little girl wrestling with a monster. It clutched at him, so close to his own nightmare. The dream ended abruptly as Jack's eyes flickered open, locked on his, glinting in the darkness.

"Hey," she whispered.

Whoops. Didn't mean to wake her. "I gotta go do somethin'. I'll be back before morning."

She blinked up at him childishly, yearningly. Like she wanted him to protect her from monsters? "Promise?"

"Promise." He could almost feel Eris rolling his eyes. Can he hear this? He kissed her again tenderly and made his way out.

The Necropolis never slept, but it did quiet. He stalked down the halls, calculating. Who? His eyes played over the scurrying techs who dominated the corridors this time of night. Right size . . .

"Riddick?" A voice from inside of him called.

"What the fuck? You can talk to me? Jack didn't talk to me."

He could almost see the other man smile. "One of those things I know. You need a body."

"Yeah. Quasies said it didn't have to be dead."

"It doesn't. Nor do you need the Quasi-Dead."

"Really?"

"I would recommend letting them into your mind as little as possible. They will sense the shallowness of your commitment to the Necroverse. I will show you how to do it yourself. If you let me."

"You bet." Riddick hesitated. "Any thoughts on whose body I should use to bring you back?"

The other man laughed. "Dame Vaako?"

Riddick snorted. "Tempting. Nah . . . someone else."

The other man was quiet for a long moment. "You are fond of Vaako." Riddick shrugged. "Be careful of him. And very careful of his wife. She is ambitious and charismatic." Riddick shrugged again. " Who is doing my job?

"Some twerp named Keegan."

He could feel Eris nodding, solemnly. "I know him. Yes. Him." Eris knew where the man slept. Riddick knew how to override the lock. He wasn't there. Riddick decided to wait.

Jack waited until she could hear that Riddick had left. Waited a few minutes more. Pulled herself out of bed and dressed in the darkness. Her heart was hammering. First time she'd been alone in a very long time, and she was about to do something very, very brave. Or very, very stupid.

She turned on the datapad and by its dim light she pushed into one of the wardrobes. Past clothes that Riddick would never wear. The back of the wardrobe was fitted wood. But there was a spot that was indented slightly. She got her fingers into it and twisted.

An agonizing pause. Then, silently, the panel slid back. A tunnel appeared. I shoulda packed a bag, she thought, giddily. She shoved the thought away. This was just reconnaissance. She grabbed an armload of clothes, shoved them in the gap to keep it from sliding closed behind her. Slid over them and snuck down the passageway.

The first opening led into the throne room. She paused at the peep hole. I died in there. She swallowed, forced herself to look. The room was almost dark, almost silent. She almost moved on before she realized that Dame Vaako was there, on her knees, prostrate before an empty throne.

That's weird.

How would you know if that's weird? Maybe everyone takes a pilgrimage here. Everyone but you and Riddick. Hell, maybe that's what Riddick's doing when he's not cuddling with you or hacking people to bits. She barely repressed a snort at the surreal image of Riddick on in his knees, forehead pressed to the ground. Barely repressed a snort until the image made her heart ache.

He did this for me. I can't leave him.

No, probably not. But you could man up and try.

What will he do to me when he catches me?

Kyra's voice was sardonic. He'll up your security. He wouldn't even let Abu spank you, remember? He's never actually tried to hurt you. Just control you. No reason to think that's gonna change.

"Hail, lady," a cool voice cut across the semi-darkness of the throne room. "Your reverence does you credit."

Two robed men eased into the room. Dame Vaako stretched luxuriously, stood only a few meters away. Stay very, very still, Kyra whispered.

I'm not a complete idiot she shot back at herself.

"Thank you, my lord purifier," Dame Vaako's voice was warm and sweet. "I pray every day. Pray for the Lord Marshal."

"My lord purifier," the front man repeated, "is dead and gone. I fill the role. I do not have the title."

Dame Vaako shrugged. "My Lord Pardoner Keegan, then."

Keegan sketched a bow. "My lady," he said, terribly formally, "we are glad you are here. You are one of the few who listen to us who has access to him. We fear he does not understand the gravity of the situation. A new Purifier must be invested. And a new Propolos."

"You do me a great compliment," Dame Vaako's voice was still warm and sweet. "But I have very little influence with our new Lord Marshal. If you men cannot persuade him to name a new Purifier . . ."

"Madam, I fear he does not grasp why it is important."

"You have told him, have you not?"

The man made a complicated gesture. "I have tried."

"Why is it important, Lord, Pardoner?"

"Please. Call me Keegan." The man seemed to be thinking. "These are secrets of the highest order, madam."

"Which is why you wanted to meet here, away from prying eyes." The man fell pensively silent. Dame Vaako continued, saccharine sweet. "Sir, I want to help. But without knowing more, I fear I cannot persuade him."

The man nodded, turned to stare at the throne, giving Jack a full look at his face. Angular. Old. Sharp. "No one must know this," he said.

"Of course."

"The Lord Marshal is not merely our leader. He ties the Underverse to this twilight kingdom. Without him, our . . . particular connection to the better world beyond will be broken. Our faithful will not, necessarily, awake in the Underverse. We see paradise because we convert to his cause and he can walk between these worlds. If he can't . . ." Keegan shuddered.

"Lord Marshals die, and the mantel passes to their natural successor, does it not?" Dame Vaako asked with the sort of calculated wide eyed innocence that made both Jack and Kyra want to slap her.

Keegan shrugged painfully. "We believed the mantel passes naturally to the Lord Marshal's killer, should he be an appropriate candidate. We knew that if the kingship did not pass naturally, a properly invested purifier could bind an appropriate candidate to the Threshold."

"That is interesting," Dame Vaako murmured.

Keegan shuddered again. "Madam, Jason, what I am going to tell you next is known to almost no one. Riddick simply should not be the Lord Marshal. He is not an appropriate candidate. The Quasi-Dead have probed him deeply. He does not believe. He is not one of us. And yet the Underverse has claimed him as its own as completely as it ever claimed Zhylaw. We do not understand why. If the dark helm could pass to him," Keegan shuddered again. "If it could pass to him, we fear it could pass to anyone. A foreign soldier. The breeder who shares his bed. He risks himself in battle almost daily, and he is known to be brutal with the girl. If he should be killed in battle; if the breeder should take into her head to take up arms against her oppressor some dark night . . . should it pass outside the faithful again . . . " He trailed off, woefully. "A surmountable problem, if our people in the right positions. Catastrophic if not."

"So the purifier also ties us to the Underverse?" Dame Vaako asked quietly.

Jason and Keegan exchanged looks. Seemed to reach a decision. "No," Jason answered softly. "The Purifier is just a vessel. The Quasi-dead tie us. They live in both realms."

"And they are scattered through the fleet."

"Yes. The Quasi-Dead and the lesser threshold."

"Guarded by loyal troops, Jason."

"But vulnerable to attack. Especially if some of the converted are not truly loyal, like the woman Riddick followed here."

"So," she said, thoughtfully, "a properly invested Purifier could tie a suitable candidate to the better world beyond, even if it did not pass through the death of the Lord Marshal. But kill the Lord Marshal, destroy fleet and the lesser threshold, and our dream of universal salvation fails."

The men nodded. "Who do you think he should name, Keegan? You? He does not seem to like you."

"No. I pushed my own claim too hard for him. But young Jason here would be an excellent candidate. He has proven his worth and his courage." Jack stared at the man. He looked like he believed hard.

"You serve the Lord Marshal faithfully, young Jason?"

"I serve the Necroverse, my lady," he answered, his voice earnest.

"And you will do what is necessary?"

His voice dropped, reverent. "Yes, my lady."

Dame Vaako nodded, even more thoughtfully. "It would be a pity should his breeder toy kill him. Sad for her should the mantel of kingship fall on her frail shoulders. I imagine she would not live long, carrying that burden. So tell me, do you believe his last pet died by her own hand?"

Jason chuckled. It was not a happy sound. "She grieved the death of her world deeply. I am sorry I was unable to guide her through her grief to the better life beyond."

Dame Vaako laughed. "Well done. Unfortunately, he seems far more protective of this girl." Jack swallowed. "At least thus far."

"I hear you called on her?"

"I did. He was not pleased. She is more than a passing fancy for him. I suspect they have a connection from before his ascendency. But if we could convert her . . ." she paused thoughtfully. "If we convert her, that would give us a friend in his bed." She paused. "She might be useful in other ways."

"Your husband has assigned some of his best men to protect her."

"Yes. I was able to persuade him to send men loyal to the true path one day." She sighed, wistfully. "They have gone to the better life beyond now."

Huh? Did Riddick kill them even though I asked him not to? Why the hell did I ask him not to?

"Yes. We heard about the bar fight," Keegan said dryly. "The girl's gallant champion." I have a champion?

"The Omphalos man will play his part," Dame Vaako said, back to sweet. Oh god. Nin killed them. Why did Nin kill them? Kyra's voice cut back. Nin killed them because he's falling in love with you, you stupid little girl.

Why the hell would he do that?

"I've never trusted the Omphalos," Jason grumbled. "I know it amused Zhylaw to watch terraformers destroy terraformed worlds, but if he kills Riddick, we could be in a worse position than we are now. Riddick is too ignorant to be all that dangerous. The Omphalos are smart."

"All the more reason to be sure we have our men in the right positions for that sad and joyous day when we welcome a new Lord Marshal," Dame Vaako smiled prettily. "My husband will be wondering where I am soon." She left grandly, her eyes sweeping past the point in the wall where Jack stood, frozen.

Keegan looked at Jason. "That joyous day when we welcome a new. Or welcome back an old one."

"Or welcome back an old one," Jason echoed. "It would be the end of the Vaakos."

"Which is why we do not shadow their happiness with what might be," Keegan said softly. "She'll play her part."

"Till the Underverse comes."

"Till the Underverse comes." They left.

Shit, I didn't mean to stand here this long. Jack hurried down the passageway. The next exit was into a corridor. Even in the middle of the night, men and woman were passing. The next was into a dark room. No way to know if she needed a key without opening the door. The passageway kept on going, but she was terrified she'd been gone too long. She hurried back up to Riddick's rooms, back through the wardrobe, putting it back the way it was, stripping her clothes hastily and crawling back into the empty bed.

Dame Vaako is going to try to kill him. Just waiting until she has her people in position to take advantage of it. Shit. Riddick names a new Purifier and they kill him.

Shit shit shit. I can't bear to watch him die again.

Yes, that'll be a nice side benefit of running away, Kyra noted dryly.

Oh god, I can't leave him. He stormed the fucking gates of hell for me. He loves me. And I promised him I wouldn't.

Yes, concussed and drugged out of your mind, you promised your rapist jailer you wouldn't leave him. Not exactly a binding contract.

Is it really rape? I never really say no. And he's usually so sweet and careful.

Kyra snorted.

Aside from the occasional rough sex and locking me up and not letting me have shoes he's been really nice.

Yeah. Aside from that.

Maybe I should talk to him.

Yeah. 'Cause Riddick's such a talker. He'll just love hearing that what he thinks is love, you think is rape. And as soon as you tell him you can get out of here, that passageway will be bricked up.

She stared into the darkness for a long time.