Guenivere ached with the emotions she knew were whirling inside the man she loved so.  Hesitantly she lifted her hand to his bicep in compassion and tenderness. Almost instantly, she let her hand fall letting  it move to her stomach, knowing that the Laird of a clan would desire no show of weakness.  She simply took a step closer, offering whatever warmth she could at the moment.  "My heart is with you, my lord."

He nodded giving a final glance to Johns' grave, turning, his cut his eyes to her. "Come, woman, the warmth of the keep is awaiting you. Our bed needs filling." He strode toward his horse, the sound of the bagpipes grating raw on his nerves. He held out his hand to her, his woman, his wife, wed that very morning.

Taking his hand immediately, she moved with him willing to be and do anything he wished of her at that moment.  She walked quickly, gracefully beside him and spoke softly, the sound of a woman speaking with her beloved, yet giving him the respect he deserved as Laird of a clan.  "Let us leave the sadness of this moment behind.  I know it can never be erased from your mind.  But let me ease what I can for you … in the name of our love."  Her hand stroked the palm of his in a comforting movement.

He fell silent beside her. This time he couldn't share with her, not the nagging guilt, not the driving sorrow, not the love he'd lost in one moment of folly.. He reached out to her and grasped her about the thickening waist and placed her across the back of his horse. "I shouldn't have allowed you on the moor this day. The rain will have you ill and put to bed," he comment absently as he swung onto the horse behind her.

She leaned her back into his hard chest and nuzzled close, burrowing in the warmth he elicited.  "Ah, Lord Richard, you forget.  I am a Scottish woman.  How would you presume to keep me from your side at this moment."  The smile faded slightly from her lips.  "Riddick … my love … should I have left you to your own emotions at this time?"  She turned her face to his, understanding washing her features.  "Made it worse for you, did it, my love?"  She moved her hand to touch his strong thigh softly.  "Shall I give you this time?"

"Wife, you belong at my side but there are some things a man, a warrior, cannot lend voice to," he explained, dropping his face to the damp tresses of her hair.

Again she burrowed into his chest and sighed tenderly.  "This I know, beloved.  And I would not for the world ask you to change that which is you.  I understand that you cannot speak of your feelings concerning this matter, nor would I ask such of a warrior."  She took his hand and wrapped it gently around her middle.  "I ask only that you tell me when you wish privacy of thoughts … time to yourself.  I would not become a hindrance to you for all the wealth in the world."  She raised his hand to kiss his palm.  "Such is my love for you."

He gave her a curt nod and rode onward, arm wrapped around her holding her against him. He kept his silence until he reined the large stallion below to a stop. "Go to our bed, my love. Wait for me there." He lifted her from the horse's back as his feet touched the ground.

With a respectful nod, yet lovingly tender expression, she nodded and pulled the hunter green woolen cloak closer to her feminine form as she headed to willingly do his bidding.

He followed after her into the keep, glancing around the great hall and finding the two men he sought. Making his way through clans men and clans women he reached Damon and Daniel. "Take up the watch of Johns' this night. I would trust it to no other." He turned and strode towards the stairs needing the warm loving comfort of his wife.

*           *         *         *      *
Guenivere made her way into the large, comfortable chamber.  The warm glow of the fire in the hearth made for a cozy feeling as she shook of the damp cloak and hung it on the back of a chair which she pulled near the flames..  Quickly she began the process of unlacing the bodice of her tunic, anxious for her husband to find her in the warmth of the large, soft bed as per his desire.  He would need her that eve, and she would be there for him in any way she could.  Letting the tunic fall to the floor, she put it by the fire as well as she stood near its heat in bare feet and chemise letting her long, curly locks soak up the heat as well.

*         *        *        *

Riddick strode quietly down the corridor to his chamber, to his marriage bed.. But as he neared, a desire took hold of him and he moved past his own chamber to a smaller but no less elaborate chamber than his. Pushing the door inward he stared at what should have been Johns'. He stared at the bed he had crafted with his own hands. He stood for a moment, arms crossed over his wide chest just beyond the threshold wondering if the rift between he and Johns could have ever been repaired, if his son could have loved him again. With a deep sigh of pained regret he turned pulling the door closed and made his way to Guenivere, the only relief to be had for his battered soul.

*   *   *   *   *

Even in the homey protection of the keep … of his chamber … Guenivere felt a sudden chill.  Moving to the large window, she pulled back the thick material that hung over it and stared off into the distant moor.  Wrapping a finger around a fiery tress, she absently twisted the lock around her finger as her mind became absorbed.

"Miss me, my lady?" The low hiss of a voice floated on warmed air. A form, ghostly pale, bloodless and white, eyes stinging needles of brightness, lounged carelessly on the wide high bed of the chamber.

Turning swiftly, Guenivere fell against the hard, thick window seat, her hand tight against her mouth and eyes widened with shock and fear.  She tried ... tried to call the name of her champion … RIDDICK.  But it came out a pathetic whisper, barely even audible to her own ears.  Her free hand gripped the window tapestry until her knuckles were as white as the translucent vision she saw before her.

"No..No, I'm afraid not..." The fluid movement as he edged from the bed were unnaturally graceful, unnaturally quick. "Its simply your....." The figure paused in his steps tilting his head animatedly, a long thin finger tapping at his chin. "What would I be to you now, my love?" He leveled that unearthly stare at her, a stare that could take one apart from the inside out. "Love? No? Husband? I have doubts about that also. Corpse? Quite possibly."

She was breathless now, all the air sucked from her lungs in fear and trepidation..  Sliding from the seat, she was on her feet in a moment flying to the door, trembling hands trying to pull it open.  But the latch was seemingly frozen in place and she reverted to pounding on the thick wooden postern screaming his name over and over.  But the more she called for Riddick, the more she realized no sound was coming from her lips … nor her pounding hands.  The room was a silent as a tomb … and as dark as a dream.  Finally spent with exhaustion and dread, she turned again to the apparition, her back flat against the arched door, eyes trying to close out the vision but not allowing themselves to close.

"Have you had enough?" the vision of Duncan asked, crossing his arms over his chest that need not move at all, habit, breathing was for the living. "He'll not come, you know that now." A sneer slipped onto his blue lifeless lips.. "He blames you. Blames your for Johns. He's lost his son because of you."

"No," she breathed, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes.  They were the words she would not tell herself … the thoughts she would not allow herself to think.  She rushed to place the mammoth bed between them, her next words so low they were almost thoughts.  "He would never blame me … knows that I did what I could to help Johns … to raise him."  It sounded weak, even to her own ears as she struggled to keep from falling to her knees in a hysterical frenzy of emotion.

"You did nothing, Guenivere. You're the same simpering wench that I married just to ravish at my whim. You weren't fit to mother an orphaned cat and certainly not a precious life like Johns. Why do you think I never allowed you with child?" His words spat in a hateful stream, ripping at her like the talons of his beloved falcons. "He'll come to hate you. You realize that do you not?"

Her hands moved to her belly while tears began to flow in rivulets down her cheeks.  "I … no." she whispered in slightly choked sobs.  "He is my husband … married me … we are a family."  Her words were pleading, more to convince herself than the vision before her.

"Ah, well, married you maybe.  But still there are things that can befall a woman in a loveless marriage. And, loveless it will be, remember my words in that empty head of yours." He began to pace again, eyes closed and humming to himself in lilting notes. "A fall down the keep stairs, poison in your wine of a night, or simply strangle you in your sleep. All ways to end your pitiful existence." He turned on her, gliding across the distance that separated them. "OR you could join me, become a part of..."

She inched back toward the wall behind her, head shaking vehemently from side to side.  And yet there was something in his words … something in his almost musical tones that began to take over her will … to almost hypnotize her into submission.  "No," she breathed repeatedly struggling to keep from believing his words, from reaching out and embracing the safety that he seemingly offered.  But she must keep her faith in her love … in Riddick.  "No, no, no……"

He stood shrugging. "Makes no difference really. You'll come to me in time, and with you will come the girl child inside you." As the words left his lips he tilted his head as if listening.

Falling to her knees, her hands gripped tightly, protectively, around her middle as her eyes slowly closed forming a tight seal, darkness overtaking her and the sob catching in her throat as she became entrenched in a vortex of emotions.

"....Guenivere!......Guenivere!" Riddick gently shook her, his rough hands gripping her arms. His eyes were filled with dread and concern at finding her huddled on the floor, clutching the soft swell of her growing belly.

Her eyes flew open as the voice of her beloved tore through the thick recesses of her mind's eye.  She was shaking slightly, her hands trembling as they moved to press against the wall of his chest.  "Tell me he's wrong, Riddick," she begged in a hoarse whisper.  "Tell me that he's lying, my love.  For you are the one whose words are law to me.  The words I believe above all others."  Her eyes stared into his begging him for something he could not understand as of yet.

Riddick pulled her trembling body against his, smoothing a hand over her long silken tresses. "I've not an idea of what your speaking, wife. What's happened here?"

"Duncan," she whispered.  "Did you not see him?" she almost cried.  "It was but a moment ago!  He was here … you must have seen …"  Her words trailed as she saw the confusion in his eyes.  "God help me, you must have!"

"Guenivere, I saw nothing except you huddled here on the floor." He wound his arms around her and lifted her to the bed.. "Duncan is dead, my love, cold in the ground. It's been a long day for you. Your are but tired and need rest." He caressed her cheek gently as he lay her on the bed and met her troubled gaze.

Her brows knitted in a state of bewilderment.  Her fingers grasped at his shoulders as she burrowed her head into the depths of the down pillow.  "Oh, my love … could it be?  He was as real to me as …"  Again her words faded as she sighed in frustration.  "As real as a blamed woman's nightmare."  She turned her face to hide the tears from his view.  "That is all it was, was it not, Riddick?  A nightmare in the light of day?"

"Aye, that it was. Now rest yourself and sleep," he commanded, leaning down and whispering as his lips trailed along her thin swan like neck. "Sleep for our child." He placed a strong hand over her abdomen, caressing the life below.

She nodded keeping her face strategically away from his eyes.  He was a Scotsman, Laird of the most noble clan in Scotland.  She knew it would disappoint him if her were to see her tears.  She allowed herself to warm at his touch, but every time she closed her eyes she saw the vision in the darkness … taunting her fleeting happiness.  Blaming her.  And in the end … she knew that she must take a part of that blame.  And the thought wrenched her very soul.

Just as Riddick lifted his head there was a hard rapping at the door to his chamber, insistent and loud. He stepped away from his wife with a thick feeling of destiny having a hand in this, closing in on him. Opening the door he was faced with a pale and shaken Damon. "A word with you, my laird?"

Guenivere slipped from the bed in a clandestine effort to hear what the men were saying, her bare feet stealthily moving closer without notice.  A shiver trembled through her body again as her hands toyed with the ribbon at the neckline of her chemise which fell from one shoulder.    A nervousness overtook her as her ears perked.

Riddick stood blocking the doorway, his body keeping the hall and the visitor beyond hidden. Glancing over his shoulder he noticed his wife moving closer and pointed a commanding finger at her, his voice gruff. "Back to that bed, woman."

She wanted to argue … to insist on knowing what secrets were being kept.  But with a pleasing look in her eyes she backed away toward the bed and sat on its edge perched nervously as she waited and strained to hear.

He saw the curiosity in her eyes as he watched her retreat, knew she was straining to hear what was said and in truth he couldn't blame her for it. But with the wild look and the pale sweat sheened face of Damon staring at him from the other side of the door he knew this was something better left from her. He stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind him. "I've little patience this night, Damon. What news do you bring that would pull me from my wife's arms?" he growled, low and menacing.

Damon shook his head, dropping his eyes to his feet. The hard thumping of his heart continued to remind him of what he had witnessed and why he was here facing his laird with a wild tale as never he had heard before much less knew to be true. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak and at the first attempt a weak mewling issued forth.

"I...Riddick...." He cut his eyes back to the bigger man, entreating understanding with the dazed look in his eyes. "It's the graves ya asked us to stand vigil over. Its..Its.... Well, my laird, I've seen my share of oddities on the moors but nothing like this. Duncan's grave is empty and ....your son....Johns.."  He hesitated, trying to push the words from his mouth. "Merciful lord, Johns' body has been ravaged, Riddick. It's unspeakable."  Damon felt the bile rise in throat at the images the leapt into his mind.

Riddick's fists balled at his side, jaw clamped tight as he listened to his clansmen. "It's the bloody McTiernans. I'll see it for myself. Gather the others and ready my horse," he told Damon, turning back to the chamber.

"Aye, I'll do it but it's not Duncan's clan, Riddick." The other man made his retreat quickly without so much as a glance backwards at his laird.

Riddick strode toward where Guenivere lay on her side eyes wide and starring at him. His mind was turned to the last words that Damon had spoken. Not Duncan's clan? But who else would have cause and why would they take Duncan and harm Johns' body?  "I've a matter that needs my attention, wife. I'll return when I can."

She sat bolt upright willing herself not to latch her hands to his powerful arms … not to beg him to stay.  Fear, pure and unbridled, filled her entire being.  Wrapping her arms around her middle for security, she nodded pushing the tears from her eyes.  She would let them fall after he was gone from her sight and only then.  It was always said that a warrior from the Riddick's clan would not tolerate tears as his last sight of his woman.  "I … will await your return her, as you have commanded, my lord."  Slipping her legs over the side of the bed, she took a cleansing breath.  "Will you na' tell me what it is, my love?"

"Nay, you've no need of knowing, wife. What I do this night is for the good of all. Now, rest yourself and care for my babe in your womb," he admonished, leaning in to gently sample her trembling lips. "Now to bed with ya." Turning, he left her there, left her to ponder what took him away from their bed on this first night.

Below he threw himself quickly up on the spirited mount that knew only him and across the moor he ran the beast, no care for life or limb, no care for the furture or the past in that single fleeting moment. A pure moment of freedom that was seldom felt to any man, least of all a laird with the weight of his clan's well being upon his shoulders. Too soon their ground eating pace slowed and fresh graves loomed out of the mist.

"Where is Daniel?" Riddick cut his eyes to Damon and shouted as the horse below him came to a skidding stop on the damp mossy grass below.

"I left him here, Riddick. Told him to watch these graves, I did," Damon explained as he began shouting the other man's name.

"Bloody McTeirnan's" Riddick howled as he neared the grave and took stock of Duncan's empty resting place. This through a veil of horrified rage he stared at his son's body. Johns' chest ripped open and where his heart should have lain was a void. Eyes that should have been closed in death had been pried open and taken. "They'll forfeit lives for this. Not a McTeirnan man will be left standing when they meet with me next," he swore as Damon came forward shaking his head, hearing Riddick's oath.

"I cannot find him. Daniel's gone daft and likely walking the moors somewhere," he mumbled, his eyes going to the empty hole and then to Johns.  He swallowed back the repulsion and lifted the torch he carried higher. "Nay, my laird, no McTeirnan's been here this night. Look to the ground around the grave. There be not one print in the wet earth."

Riddick looked his fill, walking a circle around the graves and was finally satisfied that Damon was correct. There were no tracks of any kind near the graves. Just as they came back to the edge of the gaping hole a soft whimpering could be heard from nearby. Riddick walked and listened and walked more until he came upon Daniel, pale and rigid the man sat with the gray mist near obliterating him. As Riddick crouched in front of him he could see the man's eyes were wide and filled with fear. "Daniel? By all that is in Heaven what's gotten into you?"

"I been hearing things, Riddick. I been hearing frightful things out here alone," Daniel rambled as Riddick listened carefully, deciphering the important portions. "I was standing there by the graves I was and there came the most vile laughter I've heard in me life. It sounded like a thing right from the pits of hell. Then the voice started calling me name, started with my kin, going back more than a hundred years naming my blood. Who knows such a thing, Laird? Not me…." he continued his rant, finally meeting Riddick's trouble gaze. "Seen him too. Seen him walking the moor just as well as if he were alive. Duncan, he even looks over to me and smiles. He smiles, but that smile ... it don't look quite right, Riddick. Don't look right at all."

Riddick's eyes narrowed.  "What has you so shaken with that smile?"

"It weren't natural. Weren't even the smile of a living thing. I don't know what it was. It looked like Duncan that's for sure but I ain't never seen Duncan have no pointed teeth, Riddick." He pointed in his mouth where the needle like protrusions had been nestled. "Tell me how a man gets teeth like that? Tell me Riddick."
 

Part 12
*********
 
Months had rolled by on the moors, brining with them changes to the clans,
unsettling many a hearth and home. Riddick had warred with the McTeirnan's over Duncan for the turn of six months and upon that hardship a mysterious illness has befallen the clans, none were to be speared. Graves began to abound, fresh reminders that something new and deadly had come among their midst. Tales came to the moors of the illness reaching as far at the highlands, and even as far as York.

Riddick himself had lost two families in the recent weeks, bloodless corpse
were the only thing left of the vibrant people that he had known. Now he
stood outside his chamber arms braced against the door, forehead dropped against the rough wood. Inside, his wife had lain for hours, moaning with
the pains of the coming child.

Inside Guenivere's bottom lip was swollen, the indention of her teeth
embedded in the soft flesh. She wanted to scream for him, have him break
through the barrier of the door and save her from the searing pain. But she
was nothing if not a warrior's woman. He'd not hear her scream her torment.
She'd not embarrass him. And so, as the next heated, excruciating ache
arrived, her fingernails dug deeply into the wrist of the midwife, an
agonizing groan erupting from the deepest parts of her being. She could
vaguely hear the midwife's voice urging her on, encouraging her.

The next few moments were a rush of intensity, pain and joy as the midwife
threw open the heavy door, a mock stern expression on her face betrayed only by the brightness of her eyes.

"Ach, how you look, mi'lord. And me about to introduce ya to your wee
daughter."

She pulled the door opened even more giving him a glimpse of a very tired
Guenivere holding a writhing bundle to her breast. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"She's strong and healthy, My lord Riddick." The love in her eyes warmed the room. "Made from our love."

Riddick stalked into the room, a relieved sigh poised on his lips. "She's a
Riddick for sure." He grinned, as she wrapped a wrinkled pink hand around her father's finger.

Guenivere nodded, her eyelids falling as a long red lock lack plastered to
her face which was still wet from the exertion of childbirth. "Aye, mi'lord..
And she knows her laird." She looked at their daughter and then her eyes
met his. "What shall we call her, my lord husband?"

Riddick stared in wonderment at his daughter, never having felt the rush of
emotions that a new life could invoke. Johns had been more than five months birthed when he laid eyes upon him, but not this one, not this work of love. "She'll carry the name of my mother, Jaqueline."

Tears of happiness shone brightly in Guenivere's eyes as she nodded. "It is
as it should be. I can think of no finer name for her to be blessed with."
She pressed dry lips to the downy soft head and sighed lovingly. "Welcome to the world, my darling Jaqueline." She turned loving eyes to her husband as her head began to swim slightly from fatigue. "You are well pleased, my
love?"

Riddick nodded, seeing the exhaustion in his wife's slight form. He lifted
the now sleeping infant from her arms. "Sleep well, woman. I'll take our
daughter to meet our clan."

Guenivere's eyes were mere slits now, a contented smile caressing her strong, yet delicate features. "Will you not kiss the mother of your daughter, dear husband?" She nestled deeper into the bed, her body relaxing. A sweet and loving kiss from her dearest love would make this moment perfect and cause her dreams to be sweet.

He leaned down and gave her mouth a gentled caress, his lips playing along hers. "If you're in need of something more, my love, speak it now..." He
teased, straightening as a soft sigh came from the babe in his arms.

A contented chuckle came from deep inside the new mother as she exhaled a cleansing breath. "Give me but a little rest, my lord, and if it please
you we shall work toward a brother for our lady." Her eyes opened briefly
and melted into his gaze. "I love you more than words can say, Riddick."
And her eyes slid closed as she began to give in to slumber.

"And I you, wife," he said, watching her tumble toward the restful arms of
sleep.

The warm, rich timber of her husband's voice and the soft mewing sound of
their daughter caused Guenivere to willingly fall into the blissful state of
dreams.

Riddick strode proudly from the room holding his daughter in suddenly gentled arms. "Aye, you'll make a fine warrior, you will." He smiled as he took the stairs to the great hall.

Burying her head into the depths of the down pillow, the lady of the manor
smiled contentedly, visions of her husband and daughter tumbling merrily
around in the midst of her sleep induced meditation.

How peaceful her slumber appeared, how content in mind she was. But that was all to change in the minutes that followed, change as the lone figure slinked gracefully into her chamber. He'd waited, plotted, dreamed of this moment for the months that he was exiled from his human life. "Come to me, my wife, and forget all your earthly cares. Forget a husband that loves you not, and the babe sired in a stable where you were bedded as a whore."

Eyes that were only seconds ago ensconced in sleep snapped open, a scream dying deep inside her being. "That's not the way it was!" But the words sounded pitiful even to her ears as she inched her way to the opposite side of the bed, a slight groan of pain escaping her, an adamant reminder of childbirth only moments before. "He'll know you're here," she whispered, fear coursing through her. "He'll save me from you."

"Oh, you're right about one thing, lass. He'll know I was here. But I'd not
count on him taking up the sword in your defense. He has what he desires from your union, a babe," Duncan spat, moving with the prenatural grace and speed of his kind, of the undead that he now was. His hand tangled in her
shimmering locks and he dragged her across the bed to him.

Her eyes grew even wider, round with fearful anticipation as he heart slammed inside her heaving breasts. She tried to fight him, but her exhaustion was too great. Her fingers went to his wrist trying to scrap the skin only to be met with the cold, smooth surface of epidermis. "He loves me," she insisted, his eyes draining a small amount of resolve from her soul. "Riddick loves me. The babe is a blessing of our union." She had to believe that. Her very life depended upon it.

"The babe is no blessing, wife. She's a curse upon Riddick's clan." He
hissed, opening his mouth wide and displaying the needle like protrusions
inside his mouth. "A curse that will follow his clan until the end of his
line."

Her tongue moved across suddenly dry lips as she tried to shake her head.
Her head swam and she closed her eyes to try and block out the foreboding
inside, she feeling that somehow he was right. NO, she screamed inwardly
trying to fight the horrid thoughts intruding her being. "How can love be a
curse?"

He moved in shoving his face close to her, a stale dead breath fanning her
face. "Love is a curse, lass, when it destroys kin and clan around you.
What's come of your love for him? How many deaths? The plague that's swept the moors is yours, love. You created it." He momentarily moved away and swept his hand down his body, as if to display the perfect harbinger of death.

A shiver was left in the wake of his touch that chilled her body to the core, and yet it felt vaguely familiar. The pain in her body dulled as she
listened to his words, her heart trying to expel them for lies, yet her mind
falling slowly under their spell. Her head slowly shook as the very walls
seemed to close in. "I? Created the plague?" Tears burned at the corners
of her eyes. "It's not possible, Duncan! It's NOT."

"Oh, but it is..." He crawled with feline like grace onto the bed, pulling
her roughly to him. "Riddick did me death because of you. Should I not see
vengeance done now? Should I walk the earth ever more and watch as Riddick's line go about their lives never knowing the treachery from whence they were born? I think not." His pale, marble like hand wrapped around her head and drew her head to the side, preparation, a moment of toying with his prey.

Hands moving to his chest, Guenivere planted as much strength into them
drawing on every fiber of her being, and yet it was not enough. The tears
that threatened finally spilled and only one through slipped from her lips.
"Riddick, help me!" Why did he not come? Why could he not sense that she
needed him? And then Duncan's words returned to her, cold as ice and as
smooth as glass. He has what he wanted from you, the babe. Her eyes
squeezed tightly and a sob ripped from her throat as she fought the internal
battle.

"Meet death with quieted lips, Guenivere. Meet it with the strength you
should have possessed through you life," he snarled as the spikes inside his mouth descended to the porcelain like skin of her neck, driving him, tapping
the life force that flowed through her. Duncan's eyes rolled back with the
heady sweet taste of her blood pumping into his waiting mouth.

The icy sensations where his flesh met hers were surpasses only by the fiery heat that flowed through her veins as the life giving blood from her
vivacious body was transported to his cold, undead frame. The color from her perfect skin yielded to his pale, pallid flesh, her life force transferring
to him.

With great regret, he pulled his vampire teeth from her lifeless neck and
lay the body carefully upon the bed. Standing, he simply stared at her
corpse. "It's only the beginning, Riddick. This I swear to you."

Part 13
**********
The tale of Riddick's clan, of in fact, the very moor he stood upon came to its natural end wrapped into a sordid and wild story that had been told and retold to generations of moor clans. Riddick's line, the folly of it all being pointed out, cast doubt from where Duncan's part had begun and ended in the whole of the sordid mess.  Now, as Riddick stood surrounded by the crumbling ruins of the clan's keep the words rang true. There was a deep seeded need to believe that there had been something beyond a mother and her abandonment, beyond the cold steel of a dumpster. That his blood ran deeper than those fateful moments, when a choice was made and a life was lost. His life..

"Dunno think it ends there, Riddick. It's not just some tale of the fancy minded. There's a lesson to be learned in all this old woman's ramblings, to be sure." The old crone's voice drew him back to her haggard face, a face that seemed to be part of the very fire that rose in front of her.

Stepping closer his silvery orbs pinned her with a questioning stare. "Oh you want to know the rest don't you, boy? Want to know the fate of the rest of the Laird's line." Her cackle sounded like dried leaves crushed under foot. "It's said by those who would know that this creature, this beast born of the darkest soul, bides his time waiting for that girl child. He lays in wait until the strength and honor of the Riddick line appears again." The wisp of a woman was serious, her eyes darting around them as if the very walls had grown ears.

"You're crazy as..." He began, turning to leave, finding her story stretching the boundaries of what he was willing to accept.

Her voice grew clear and wispy, almost melodic in its tone. "He's here, my lord, he's here for her. Here for Jack, and you're the only one that can save her. Hurry, Riddick, before it's too late."

Whipping back to the voice he was greeted with nothing but a bed of coals, no fire and no wizened old woman. It was then that the icy fingers of fear traveled his skin, settling in a gripping pressure in his chest. In that moment a war wagged within him, the truth or a lie. Was Jack in danger? And, like a sixth sense he felt the danger permeated the air, a heavy ink that touched him and then withdrew. Without a second thought he was sprinting to where he had left the aging driver, left his only means of getting back to her, of intervening. The Cab.

From the crumbling walls amused eyes watched the man run, amused at his attempt to step between fate and its mistress. But all had gone well and Riddick would be exactly where he should, and fate had nothing to do with that.

* * * * *

Long since home from the pub, Jennifer sat in the soft but tattered oversized chair, bare legs tucked under her and a warm woolen blanket bundled tightly around her torso. The soothing flicker of the oil lamp mimicked the roaring fire in the hearth. She preferred firelight to electricity at times like these … it helped ease the nervous tension inside her. Finally giving up on the book she wasn't really reading anyway, she dropped it on a nearby table and stood, wrapping her hands around her waist for warmth. Her eyes cut toward the large bed, downy comforter still in disarray. It had seemed like forever since he'd left her at the pub. Even longer since he'd left her bed.

Turning her head, she moved toward the window and slowly pushed away the curtain. The mists swallowed the landscape, as they often did, and she shivered. Pulling her heavy sweater closer to her body, her fingers slid under the hem absently stroking the small scar on her flat abdomen. "Talk nice to her, Riddick," she said quietly to the walls. "She needs a gentle touch."

* * * * *

Riddick stepped from the cab, the ride back having taken what seemed like eons, and he sprinted up the single road. There was a deepening sense of being not only watched but stalked as he passed a cottage after cottage, his eyes scanning ahead. Then dual shadows detached from the alleyway beside the Pub, stepping close to the road as Riddick passed. He whipped his head around and came to a skidding halt, some ancient part of him was screaming for him to heed the two strangers, to confront them. He turned, staring hard at the two that had wide smiles plastered on their faces, twin sets of blue eyes mirroring those smiles. There was something familiar about the two rusty headed men, odd looking in their long black trench coats.

"Aye, bout time ya showed up. We thought we'd have to come a lookin for ya," the shorter of the two piped up.

"Who the hell..." Riddick began only to be cut short by the other of the duo. "And him actin like he don't know us from a mule's arse." A clucking sound came from the man. "I'm Damon and this here.." He hitched his thumb to the man beside him. "This is Daniel. We've gotta a little something for ya, Laird Riddick."

"I'm no goddamn..." Again he was cut off.

"Ah. But ya are, whether you know it or not." Damon opened the trench coat to reveal the gleam of crafted steel, of a long forgotten sword.. "Aye. It's yours all right. I see the knowing in your eyes. Go ahead, take it."

Riddick reached out and curled his fingers around the hilt, pulling it towards him, testing its weight. It felt natural, as natural as breathing, clutched in his hand. He nodded and both men erupted into a round of boisterous cheers.

"The lass, let's get to finding her." Daniel sobered and cut his eyes to Riddick.

"I'll kill the sonofbitch that lays a hand on her." Riddick growled, warning the two that there would be bloodshed in the night.

"Aye, would expect nothin less, my lord, nothing less." Damon chimed in, his eyes following Riddick as he turned and chose his bearings, breaking into a run towards the far end of the village.

His destination shined in the night like a beacon calling to him. She had to be there, he told himself. Not bothering with manners, politeness or etiquette, he stormed into Jen's home, nearly ripping the thick oak door from its hinges. "Where is she?"

Flame red curls danced around her shoulders as she whirled toward the startling intrusion. Tightening her arms around her middle as the blast of cold air whisked though the thick, woolen sweater, she stepped back closer to the fire, eyes wide with shock. "Wha…? Who, Jack?" Her bare legs trembled, cold from the weather and the look on his face competing for dominance. "She's na here. She's at her cottage, I suppose." Her eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

He crossed the room to her in less then four measured steps, his free hand going to her shoulder. "You knew who I was? You knew about the legend?" His silvery orbs pinned her forcing the answers he wanted from her.

A hint of confusion crossed her brow. "The legend of the moor?" And then her shoulders squared. She had wanted to believe. Believing in him would mean believing in her … in them…in a love that could transcend all time. But that was a fairy tale spun by the old crone. "Yes. I knew of the legend.. The whole village knows of the legend. As for who you are, I had my suspicions since we met, I suppose." She tried to pull her shoulder free of his grasp but it was trapped in the steel-like grip. Finally giving in, she leaned into his hand.. "Jack's in danger, isn't she? Why else would ya be prepared for the spillin' of blood?" Her eyes suddenly turned pleading. "What is it, man?"

He shook his head, featured set with a hardness that only a few would recognize as worry. "Stay here..." He ordered, his voice rumbling with his authority. "Stay here, in case she shows up."

Damon and Daniel stood just inside the door, exchanging looks of wariness. This was their destiny since birth foretold as they drew their first breaths, having been named for the uncles from generations past that they so resembled,  but it did nothing to banish the fear that now crept along their lanky frames.

Jennifer's breath became ragged. Jack….in danger. Why in the name of all that is holy had she not realized it? She squelched the feeling of guilt as she realized the answer. She was too bloody busy thinking about how the man in front of her made her body feel. "No," she said roughly as she pulled away from his hand. She turned and rushed toward closet to dress. "You're not going without me, Riddick!"

"Woman, don't fight me on this. You're gonna lose," he growled lifting the sword and tossing it to his compatriots as he stalked after her.. With a hard grunt of effort Damon managed to catch the blade.

With frantic movements Jennifer reached for the denim pants that hung on a hook inside the closet. "I don't intend to lose, and I don't intend to stay here and twiddle me thumbs either, Mi'lord." An overwhelming sense of déjà vu surrounded her. "I'm going!"

He stepped closer to Jen, towering over her, using his size to enforce his will and a not so subtle threat. "Don't make me tie you to your bed."

Her resolve stiffened. "Unless you have other reasons for that than keeping me from following you then tying me on that bed will get you no where." She moved quickly trying to side step his grasp. "I love her, too, damn your soul!" She wondered at how her mind could be so crazed with worry while her body was racing with intimate emotions.

"You're only gonna get in my way. It's enough I have to worry about her I don't need to have to watch you’re ass, too," he hissed, grasping her roughly around her arm as she tried to circumvent his girth.

As her body lifted slightly off the ground her feet and hands began to flail clocking him in the shin and shoulder more than once. "Aye, there's the rub! I can watch me own arse, you daft ape," she cried. "It'll take you and all of your clan to get me tied to that bed!" Her heart was pounding in her throat when she thought of the danger Jack could be in … and yet there was something so familiar about all of this as she continued to fight his strength with impressive power of her own.

Riddick released her and motioned for Daniel to deal with Jen, keep her at bay, sit on her if need be. He wanted her out of the way. "You stay."

Daniel moved across the room to her, catching her eye and winking. He knew he should do as his laird asked but he would not try to intervene in fate no matter who asked it of him, and Jen was fate.

Jennifer nodded to Daniel in clandestine understanding but still felt a twinge of defeat. She had felt this dismissal before … but was unsure as to where, where, or from whom. "Ah, off with ya, then," she hissed to cover her disappointment. "It's not like ya have a need for me … for anyone!" She grasped the closest object, the glass from which she had been drinking, and hurled it toward the door frame nearby. "Time's wastin', man! Go save her if she's in danger!"

A feral growl fell from his lips as the glass shattered into shards as he passed through the portal into the night. His destination lay up the opposite lane, a dark cottage that should have been well lit. "Jack," he hissed, nervous sweat welling from his tawny skin.

**********

Duncan kept his smile of triumph in the shadows, kept the smile away from the flickering light. There was too much to be seen in that smile, that wicked vile smile, a smile that was only a prelude to a more important moment. First blood he would claim twice that night, of that he was certain.. The lamb was left unguarded, left to the wolf, and there he was poised between her thighs, pushing into the tight untried virgin portal. The smell of an innocent's blood nearly drove him to blood lust, the point at where a body couldn't remain intact under his carnal onslaught. It wouldn't be the first time he had ripped a body to shreds but with this one was an impossibility. He needed her.

Jack had known this day would come soon. The truth was, she was growing sick and tired of being a virgin … of being curious … of the undiscovered. Yes, she had known this would happen soon. But there was one thing that she hadn't known. She hadn't been prepared for the all-consuming need she was experiencing at this moment. As she felt his male hardness pressing into feminine folds, the pain she had expected was nothing more than a slight burning sensation … something that excited her all the more. She widened her thighs to accommodate more of him, her feet instinctively moving to press her heels onto the smooth globes of his tightened posterior to urge him even further inside her as she arched her body upward. "Duncan," she breathed huskily.

"Aye, my beautiful. You're mine now and soon nothing will separate us, nothing of the mortal world," he hissed near her ear as he licked and lapped at the pulse point below the skin of her neck.

Her body craved more, her heart pounding in throat as her fingernails dug deeply into his shoulders … her hips undulating under his as he pumped into her over and over again. The more she felt, the more she wanted as she reveled in the feel of his body thrusting into hers in conjunction with the warmth of his tongue at the sensitive throbbing along her throat. "Harder," she found herself saying. "Harder, Duncan…."

"Of course, lass." He gathered himself and thrust forward burying his lengthy member, plundering the very entrance to her womb. His elongated teeth scrapped across her sun-kissed skin, delaying his most anticipated pleasure.

Her body jolted forcefully, his body impaling into her and the feel of hard enamel on the sensitive throbbing area of her neck creating an orgasmic frenzy. This is what it was like, she mused as she rhythmically began bucking upward allowing her primal instincts to take hold of her.

Riddick stood just outside the door, listening, and what he heard made his blood run cold. Stepping back he planted his foot against the door and sent it splintering inward. He stepped through the ruble to see two forms in the throes of passion, to see Jack arched below the man. Looking again, there were things that separated this creature from a man, one just had to look carefully. "Duncan McTiernan..."

"Oh, shit!" Riddick's voice was like a splash of cold ice on Jack's over heated skin. Her head twisted to see his massive presence and she struggled to move from beneath her lover, desperate to cover her nakedness.

Daniel stood in the doorway thoroughly impressed with Riddick's entrance. "My arse, that's bloody perfect," he hissed, his eyes falling on the girl in the bed …his eyes falling on Jack and it was like the legendary cupid had struck an arrow straight into his heart, love at first sight. He stepped into the room, waiting for the chance to pull her away from the demon in the bed with her.

Riddick closed in on the inhuman creature ready to strike out at the first opportunity. "Get away from her you sonofabitch," he hissed low with that murderous calm to his voice.

"Nay, she's mine now, Riddick. To the winner goes the spoils." He laughed loudly, high, nearly ear splitting as he reached for Jack.

Confusion ran rampant in Jack's mind as she struggled to understand the situation while simultaneously trying to extract herself from Duncan. "I belong to NO man," she said as her eyes darted from one to the other.

"Get out, Jack..." Riddick barked at her splitting his attention between the two, between Duncan and Jack. It was a mistake and Riddick knew it the second he cut his eyes to the girl.

Duncan gave a wild clan-like battle cry as he moved with more speed than the human eye could take in. He was on Riddick in an instant tossing him against the wall behind them with no more force than a child abusing a rag doll would use. "You're out of your element here, Riddick. I counted on that. I planned for it." He drove a hard fist into the taller man's mid section. "Now, I'm going to make you my blood sucking bitch..." he howled.

As soon as Duncan was off the bed Daniel charged in and grasped a struggling Jack from the bed, practically dragging her with him. "Please, lass, you're gonna get yourself hurt here. Laird Riddick knows what he's doing."

Down the path Damon, trailed by Riddick's woman, rushed towards the cottage. The commotion was evident stretching loudly into the night.

"What the hell is happening, Riddick!?" Jack screamed through the night as she felt her form being pulled by a powerful pair of hands. As her feet practically left the ground, she kept her eyes on Riddick's downed form and tugged at the fingers on her wrist. "STOP! I have to help him!" Her body was now trembling in fear … fear for Riddick's life.

Daniel grasped her arms and turned her to face him. "All in good time, beautiful, all in good time. But right this minute you have to be away from her. Aye, you have to go with me." He tried to explain, tried to gain her cooperation as he pulled her against him. He shrugged from the thick overcoat and swung it around her, pulling the edges carefully closed around her nude form.

Inside, Riddick shook his head, feeling the blood well from the split across his cheekbone and the look in Duncan's eyes as he scented the crimson fluid told Riddick he had found his ace. Wiping at the flow across his face, he brought the blood-dripping appendage out and appeared to shake it clean. Duncan's eyes followed and he stilled for the fraction of a second it took for Riddick to kick out with a booted foot. He was the one to exploit the advantage this time as he sent the vampire dancing backwards as he pounced, driving Duncan to the floor.

Jack's eyes were wide with swirling emotions but the clouded gaze slowly cleared as she stared into Daniel's confident gaze. Slowly she nodded, her hands going to the lapels of the overcoat. "But we can't just leave him here," she said, more of a question … almost a plea, than a statement..

It was then that Jennifer saw the clans men and, breaking into a run, she stopped short beside the two. Reaching for Jack, she was surprised when the girl took a step backward. "Jack … what is it, lass?" Her eyes flew to Daniel and then the cottage door. "What in the name of heaven and hell is going on in there, and you out here, man!" And she moved to rush toward the loud crashing emanating from the dwelling.

Damon shouted at her as he turned in the doorway. "Take another step towards this door, my lady, and I'll tie you myself." He meant every word of it as he moved into the room watching Riddick and Duncan grapple around on the floor.

Jennifer glared at the man and then returned her focus to the battle at hand. She knew he was right … and the knot in her stomach tightened … squeezed painfully, as she waited for the outcome.

Daniel smiled warmly at Jack, lovingly, appearing like a lovesick puppy. "Don't you be worrin, lass, Laid Riddick knows what to do. He'll be fine, just you mark my words."

Turning her back to Daniel, Jack pressed her back to the hardness of his chest, her fingers tugging harshly at the lapels of the coat the only sign of her nervousness. "His ass better survive this or I'll kill him.." She gained strength from the unknown man as she stared helplessly at the cottage.

Daniel shook his head. "Nay..Nay, there'll be no worrying about that. He will survive."

Damon moved closer as Duncan twisted out of Riddick's grasp, Riddick and the undead both gaining their footing in the same instant.

"Laird Riddick," Damon haled, holding up the sword he clutched in his right hand. And for the first time since the encounter began Duncan appeared frightened.

"Ya have ta cleave his head off, Riddick," Damon, relayed as he moved in close enough to toss the sword.

Duncan was quick to realize that with the sword he was in danger, it was the same sword that had ended his human life hundreds of years before.

Jennifer took a step forward stifling a scream as she realized what was being asked of Riddick. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," she whispered to herself. "Will it never be over?"

Part 14
***********
 

There was a moment as gazes locked, wills warred, time ground to a stop … a moment when the past and present folded into one. Riddick stood, his imposing form poised on the brink of attack, but was halted. There was a space of time, the space of a heart beat's echo,  he was jolted into memories that came unbidden to his mind. An awareness, pre-cognizance, that would only be a genetic link. It could only be a memory wrapped around an eternal DNA strand, surfacing for him and only him.

"Oh, but you think you've won, Riddick. You have done nothing more than set me free, sent me to my destiny. Given me the means to slowly feast upon your kin and clan. Make me the god I seek to be, Riddick. That's all you've done this day."
 

Those words rang heavy in Riddick's ears, ringing like the curse they were, the intended damnation of his bloodline. And here he stood, the fate of generations hinging on this one moment.

"Riddick..." Damon hissed, voice low but penetrating. "You'll have to cleave his head from his body. It be the only way to kill the creature."

Duncan turned a hissing fanged smile at him. "The trick is to keep me for the blow." He made a leap for the window but never saw the seal, never touched anything but air as the blade whistled through the air. Duncan's head went spinning off into the wall as he body fell lifelessly to the floor.

The grimace on Jack's features followed the stiffening of her spine, her fingernails digging deeply into Daniel's forearms gaining strength from a man other than Riddick for the first time in her life. Leaning her head back onto his shoulder she breathed words audible only to his ear. "You'll tell me, won't you? I'd sure as hell like to know what the bloody hell just happened here."

He was quick to nod his agreement. "Aye, I'll tell you just as soon as I have a word with, the Laird." His smile light the night as he looked down at her, falling more and more in love with the strong angel before him.

She continued to stare, her head bobbing in understanding. "I'm sure he'll want more than just 'a word' with me." A raw, true smile tugged at her lips as she shifted her body from the hard planes of his to allow him movement.

Jennifer took that moment to shove past Damon and run toward Riddick, needing affirmation of his well being. She skidded to stop just before him feeling a strange, almost mystical, aura take her over. "Are you hurt, my lord?" Her voice was softly frantic, her eyes wide with fear for him.

"No!" He barked, and turned narrowed eyes on Damon. "She was suppose to be kept away. Kept safe."

Damon shrugged. "How much safer could she be than right here with you protecting her. Aye?" He turned away from the other man and knelt down beside the body turning it. "Like marble, it is," he commented absently.

Riddick turned his attention back to Jen and allowed the flow of pumping adrenaline to drain away. He opened his free arm to her and drew her against his chest. "Is Jack okay?"

Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she allowed her body to sag against his, reveling in his warmth … his life. "Aye, Riddick," she whispered reassuringly. "She's not harmed." Her face lifted to meet his gaze. "It's over?" The hope in her eyes spoke tomes.
 

"Yeah, far as I can see it is. Not likely a corpse will be resurrected without a head," he replied, glancing down to her and turning from the room. "Come on, I could use some sleep."

Damon whistled back to Riddick and smiled as he glanced over his shoulder. "Leave the sword, Laird Riddick, I'll see to it."

Jack was unsure why, but as her eyes met the intense look of Riddick's features, she felt as if her world were spinning out of control. She held her body straight and tightened her grip on the lapel of the borrowed overcoat. "He didn't want me, did he?" It was spoken not as melancholy angst, but merely as a fact she wanted affirmed.

Riddick flexed his hand around the hilt of the sword for the last time, his
eyes locking to the blood and bits of flesh that clung to the blade. His
satisfaction was mirrored in the smile that he turned up to the stars above,
his laughter echoing throughout the sleeping village.

Daniel turned his eyes down to Jack, an understanding smile hovering at his
lips. "No, lass, he wanted to fulfill a prophecy set to the heavens hundreds
of years ago. He wanted a vengeance that was already served." He glanced to Riddick, shaking his head he pointed. "He wants you." Eyes of glacial blue bore into hers willing her to understand his words. "Enough to risk eternity for you, enough to risk a fate worse than the fires of hell. You take that, Jack, and always honor him and his love for you."
 

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

Standing with feet spread, arms folded behind his back, he shook his head in amusement. His luminous eyes taking in the happy family like scene from a distance no human could. "Well, there is one bur from my arse removed, and not a moment too soon. Poor Duncan, old and careless.." With a stomp of a booted foot the creature turned. "I believe the phrase is, out with the old
and in with the new. So be it."

 
FINI