Blood Ties
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel Comics, New Line Cinema or Blade the Series. However all original characters are mine.
Summary: At the behest of some of the readers I have written a sequel to my story "Bloodline". This takes place a few weeks after the events in the first story.
Marcus Van Sciver has made good on his promise to accompany his wife, Krista to the Aids ravaged country of Botswana in the heart of the Africa.
In the last chapter, Marcus has just made the acquaintance of Dr. Shelia Darkoh. A mutual dislike has quickly developed between the two. And Marcus is convinced that there is more to Dr. Darkoh than meets the eye. He is determined to find out what her secrets are.
Meanwhile, to Krista's surprise, Marcus reveals something about the Van Sciver family history that she didn't know before. Want to find out what it is?
Then read on…
Chapter Two
"Well, I see what you mean about her bedside manner." Marcus addresses his wife as his blue eyes bore a hole into the retreating back of Dr. Darkoh.
Krista tries to laugh off the uncomfortable situation. "Don't worry about her. At first, she does come across as an old sourpuss, but she'll warm up to you in time. You'll see. Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."
Marcus gallantly offers the crook of his arm to Krista, which she happily accepts.
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After visiting with some of the staff, Krista takes her husband around the different wings of the hospital such as the triage unit and the emergency room. Marcus takes note that the rest of hospital personnel has gone out of their way to bid him welcome. And the affection they lavish on his wife also seems sincere. It pleases him to know that Krista is well liked.
Next they pass by the intensive care unit, where the more critically ill patients are cared for. And it's not too long before they end up in the maternity and pediatric wing. It is here where Krista's face lights up with happiness.
Grabbing Marcus by the hand she slowly leads him up to the viewing window of the nursery where the newborn babies are looked after. Marcus' eyes never leave Krista's face as she places her hand upon the glass. She smiles as she watches the little ones gurgle, cry, sleep and dream. The look of wonderment on her face fascinates her husband.
"Have you ever seen anything more precious in all your life?" she asks.
Marcus stands behind her. Gently wrapping his arms around her slim waist, he pulls Krista close to him.
"Yes I have," he answers. "And I'm looking at her right now. I see you Krista."
Turning around to face her husband, she looks deeply into his eyes. "I'm really glad you're here."
Kissing her gently on the lips, Marcus then pulls away a bit to look at the children just beyond the glass. "Krista, are these babies…?"
"…infected?" The light in her eyes dies out as she finishes her husband's sentence. "Some are, but we do what can for them. Until can't do anymore. The healthy ones with families are sent home. But the majority of the children born here have no one to care for them. The mothers usually die during childbirth, the fathers are unknown. So we keep them here, to be educated and raised by staff members."
Curious about the fate of the wayward children, Marcus is prompted to ask, "And what happens to them after they've reached adulthood?"
Krista replies, "Well, a few go back to live in their villages armed with the skills they've learned here. They so desperately want to do well and help." She beams with pride as she speaks about these young adults. It is obvious that she's a hand in their early upbringing.
But as she continues to speak, Marcus can see the expression on her face sadden. "Others have stayed in the city, wanting to escape a rural life, but they only wind up being infected through their own carelessness. Prostitution and illegal drugs are still very readily available here. And no matter how much we try warning them about the dangers of both, they throw their lives away for a cheap thrill."
Marcus is distressed to see his wife so unhappy. He touches her face lightly with the tips of his fingers and tries to change the subject. "I have an idea, before we retire to our room, how about introducing me to these kids you talk about so much."
Once the again the light in Krista's eyes is rekindled. Happily, she grasped his hand in hers and starts to escort him towards the orphanage.
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"Krista! You're back so soon! I wasn't expecting to see you until the end of the summer. Come here, girl. Give us a hug!" A rather plump but jovial woman then throws her beefy arms around Krista and squeezes her tight against her ample bosom. Her skin is the color of fine mahogany and her broad smile as brilliant as a thousand suns. Whoever this woman is, it is plain to see that she is genuinely happy to see Krista.
Krista smiles and returns her affection, as she allows herself to be smothered in a motherly bear hug.
After a few minutes the woman finally lets Krista go then steps back to take a look at Marcus. "Well, well, well, will you look at this one here? Don't tell me, let me guess. This must be your young man, right?" Her strong voice has an almost lyrical quality to it, very pleasant to the ear.
Trying to contain her laughter, Krista manages a nod. The woman continues to eyeball Marcus with mock disapproval. "Well, girl, you sure bagged yourself a fine one, didn't you now? He's as handsome as the devil himself!"
If Marcus still possessed the ability to blush, he would be as red as beet right about now. He hadn't been this embarrassed since his days as a towheaded schoolboy when the teacher had made an example of him and his older brother for their mischievous deeds.
But being the polite Englishman that he is, Marcus takes the woman's hand in his and raises it to his cool, smooth lips to kiss it lightly.
"Marcus Van Sciver, at your service, Madame..." As he returns her hand to her, Marcus bows slightly as he makes this woman's acquaintance.
The matronly looking woman promptly places hands on her chubby hips then sternly gazes up at Marcus. "Don't you go putting on your fancy airs with me! I may be the headmistress but I'm just plain old Bessie. And some folks around here just call me Mamoa." Then she flashes him the friendliest grin he has ever seen.
And Bessie's smile is infectious, as Marcus finds himself sincerely returning it. "Bessie, it's a pleasure to meet y—oh!"
Before Marcus is able to finish his sentence, Bessie has trapped him within her strong arms, and begins to cradle the bewildered vampire against his will. He casts a helpless look at his very amused wife and mouths the words 'help me'. But Krista just breaks out in peals of laughter as she watches her husband being swallowed up by the over attentive Bessie.
To his utter relief, Marcus is finally released from her suffocating embrace. Bessie chuckles heartily while Marcus tries to regain some semblance of composure. And to his mild surprise, he soon learns that not only is Bessie a familiar with the House of Chthon, but she doesn't mince words either.
"It's about damned time you showed your pretty face around here, mister! I was beginning to think that you didn't exist! All the decades your wife's been comin' here, and you sittin' in that ivory tower of yours. What's the matter, too afraid to mingle with the common folk?"
If it had been anyone else, Marcus would not think twice to lay them to waste. But he senses that Bessie means no disrespect with her abrupt manner. She is simply a straight shooter that speaks her mind. Her brutal honesty is an admirable quality that has gained his immediate respect.
Krista intercedes. "Bessie, I'm sure I've told you that Marcus is a very busy man."
"Don't stick up for him Krista! Mr. Fancy Britches has had plenty of opportunities to see for himself all the fine work you've done here!"
"Bessie!" Krista exclaims.
Marcus holds up his hand to silence his wife. "No, Krista, Bessie is right."
He smiles at Krista then turns to face Bessie. "I should have come here long before this, but I chose not to. But I would like to remedy the situation, if you will allow me."
However, Bessie chooses to remain in a huff. Crossing her arms in front of her chest she turns her back to Marcus, pouting her large fleshy lips like a spoiled child.
Gently he tries to coax her. "Bessie, please say yes?"
Nope, that doesn't do the trick, she still won't budge.
So Marcus tries another tactic. "Please, Mamoa?"
Upon hearing her pet name, Bessie whirls around. With a mischievous little grin she clasps her meaty little hands together. "Now that's more like it! You want to help, Fancy Britches? Good, then come with me! We are in dire need for someone to coach the boy's cricket team."
Incredulous, Marcus begins to protest, but then Bessie grabs his arm and starts to drag him off to the gymnasium. "Don't worry, your 'lordship', it's an indoor cricket field. We wouldn't want to go up in smoke, now would we?"
With wicked gleam in her eyes, Krista watches as the head mistress of the orphanage manhandles her husband.
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"Miss Krista?" a small shy voice says from behind her.
Krista smiles, and then twirls around to greet the voice's owner. She immediately sees the welcomed sight of a small boned little girl with big brown eyes and cinnamon colored skin. Her dark black hair is done up in rows and rows of long thin braids, each adorned with a set colorful plastic beads. She beams as she shows off her pink Hello Kitty T-shirt, and a pair of blue denim shorts. Her little feet display a brand new pair of white Keds. But really melts Krista's heart is the sweet little grin missing its two front teeth.
"Hello Orisha, did you miss me?" Krista opens her arms to the little girl, who in turn happily runs into them. Scooping the child up off the ground, Krista plants a kiss on her cheek. Orisha wraps her little arms around Krista's neck and holds on tight.
"Oh, Miss Krista, I always miss you!" the child exclaims.
"So, I see you got the new clothes I left you." Krista laughs as she hugs the girl even tighter.
"Yes, thank you so much! I love my new things! I'm so glad you're back!"
After a few more hugs, Krista decides to set Orisha back down onto the floor. Krista extends a hand to the little girl, which Orisha latches onto quickly.
"Come on, sweetheart. There's someone I'd like you to meet."
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"Fancy Britches, you've got to put your back into it! What kind of cricketer are you if can even hit the ball?" Bessie shouts at a very frustrated Marcus from the bowler's wicket. And although he's removed his suit jacket and tie, he's sweating profusely under the hot lights of the indoor cricket field.
After he was introduced to the group of boys, all ranging in ages from 9 to 17, for the better part of an hour, Marcus has tried rather unsuccessfully to strike the leather-bound cork ball with his bat. However Bessie, despite appearances has proven to be quite the expert player. Her pitching arm alone is the stuff of legend.
The woman is downright dangerous, Marcus' muses resentfully.
Once again, Bessie winds up the pitch and releases it in Marcus' direction. As the ball zooms in closer with every passing second, the would-be batter steadies himself to hit the flying projectile as hard as he can.
As the children loudly jeer at him, Marcus narrows his eyes to focus on the incoming ball. His hands tighten around the base of his bat as Marcus raises it slightly above his head.
Almost here, that's it, he tells himself. Time seems to stand still as the ball hurtles towards him. And just when the airborne orb is within striking range, Marcus picks right moment then swings his cricket bat at it, twisting his entire body as he does so. For a few agonizing seconds a hush falls over everyone on the field. But when Marcus hears the sweet smack of the wooden bat making contact with the ball, he can hardly believe it.
I've done it, his triumphant thoughts ring out.
"Well don't just stand there, primping like a prima donna, run man, run!" Bessie's bellows awaken Marcus from his temporary daze. Throwing down the bat, it hits the ground with a resounding thunk.
Aggressively, Marcus starts to sprint to the other end of the field to score a run while his non-striking partner, a tall lanky boy named Zim, runs to his end. As both Marcus and Zim run between the wickets a much smaller boy going by the name of Toti, grabs the ball and throws it towards the nearest bail, managing to knock it of the stump. And since the runners fail to get behind the popping crease in time, they are both declared out by a very exultant Bessie.
Zim wails disgustedly, "Oh God, not again! Mamoa, what kind of coach is this? He's terrible! We ain't ever going to win against St. Sebastian's if he's our trainer!"
Raising her hands up in exasperation, Bessie does her best to calm the annoyed teenager down. "Now, Zim, give Mr. Van Sciver a chance, he's just a little rusty, that's all. Right, Mr. Van Sciver?"
Marcus, who has been trying to catch his breath, says in between gulps of air, "Yeah, right. It's just that I haven't played since I was a boy."
Bessie casts a sympathetic glance towards Marcus then she yells at the group of annoyed boys. "All right everyone, that's enough practice for today. Go on, hit the showers! And make sure to wash behind those ears of yours, or there'll be no dessert after dinner tonight!"
A collective groan is heard, but the children obey as they begin to sullenly tread towards the showers. The last boy to exit is the diminutive Toti. He rolls his eyes up to look at Marcus and says with a little smile, "It's okay. I know you'll do better next time."
Marcus is touched by the child's sincerity and grins crookedly at Toti. The boy says, "See you later," and then runs to catch up to his teammates.
"See, Fancy Britches, they like you." Bessie has now sauntered up to stand next to Marcus.
With a slight frown on his face he responds, "I don't know, that Zim doesn't seem to fancy me much."
Bessie pats Marcus on the back in a consolatory gesture. "Don't mind him. He's may seem a little rough around the edges, but he is a good boy. He's just had tough time. You see, he's all that's left of his entire family. Everyone, brothers, sisters, even his parents have all died in the last two years."
Marcus turns to look at the older woman. "The virus?" he asks with raised eyebrows.
The expression on Bessie's face is grim as she replies. "That was certainly the case with his parents. But…" Bessie falters a bit, which piques Marcus' interest.
"…but what, Bessie?"
Her face has taken on an anguished appearance. "I guess there's just no other way to say this. His brothers and sisters were slaughtered."
Marcus, not completely ignorant to the current political climate of Botswana makes an assumption. "I take it then that the children were massacred by the guerrilla forces?"
Bessie's dark eyes glitter with consternation as she stares back at Marcus. When she at last speaks, her voice takes on a husky foreboding tone. "Some would have you believe that's what happened, but I know better."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you ever heard of the Tsavo Man-Eaters Mr. Van Sciver?"
Upon hearing Bessie's question, Marcus scoffs. "You've got to be joking, right? You would have me believe that Zim's family was killed by werecats, shape shifters? That's preposterous! They are creatures of folklore and mythology, nothing more!"
Bessie arches an eyebrow as she continues to look at Marcus. "Oh really, would it be just as preposterous as the idea of vampires living among us?"
Before Marcus could answer, Krista has entered the gymnasium with a little girl in tow.
"And just what are two arguing about?" Krista asks as she walks toward husband and the school's headmistress.
Both say in unison, "Nothing."
Sternly Krista looks at Marcus. "Good, I wouldn't want my husband to make a bad first impression."
Next, she gently nudges the child to stand in front of her. "Marcus, I'd like you to meet Orisha. Orisha, this is my husband, Marcus."
As soon as Marcus lays his eyes upon the girl, he is completely taken with her. The warm little smile, the brightness shining in her dark brown eyes and her overall innocence remind Marcus of his own lost youth when he was just a carefree boy.
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My God, that was ages ago, he thinks sadly to himself as his mind briefly drifts back to a time when he had no inkling of what his life would become. He fondly remembers glorious days filled with mischief and childish mayhem as his elder brother William led the way to their next misadventure.
How he had loved his brother. And Marcus had always looked up to him. He had admired William's bold, fearless nature most of all. William Van Sciver was never one to back down from a challenge be it from a man or beast. In many respects, William had been the bravest man he had ever known.
Their mother, Elsa widowed at the tender age of 23 in the year 1876, had been left to care for two rambunctious boys. And it had been made perfectly clear from the start which one of her sons she had favored most. Marcus had been her angel, her baby. Being fair-haired and blue eyed, he strongly resembled his late father Luther, whom Elsa had loved intensely.
William, on the other had turned out like Elsa's father, with hair as black as midnight and dark soulless eyes. And she had hated her father for objecting to her marriage to Luther, on the basis of religion. Elsa had been raised an Anglican, Luther's family were staunch Roman Catholics.
Despite their differences, love prevailed. Not caring what their families thought, Luther and Elsa had decided to elope one night from their beloved Cornwall. And soon the newlywed couple had settled in London. Luther being skilled in metallurgy had quickly found steady work as a metal worker's apprentice.
Their life together although far from idyllic, had been a happy one filled with love, especially after the boys came. But then one fateful night had changed all that. Luther had been asked to stay behind one night by his employer to finish a very elaborate piece for an important client. Not wanting to disappoint, Luther had agreed to stay. And it wasn't long before an unexpected visitor had come calling. Much to Luther Van Sciver's surprise, it had been Elsa's father.
Drunk and still angry at Luther for taking his only daughter away, the distraught man had quickly brandished an old rusty pistol, letting Luther know what his deadly intentions had been. Threats had been made, an argument ensued and then both men struggled for control of the weapon. A single shot had rung out into the night leaving only one man standing.
Neighbors that had heard the gun shot poked their heads out just in time to see the assailant flee into the mist filled street. Thanks to the varied eyewitness reports, the murderer had been swiftly apprehended by Scotland Yard. And when word finally reached Elsa, her whole world had been shattered. Not even the subsequent trial or her father's execution had made up for her tremendous loss.
With her husband gone, and two small boys to care for without any means of support, Elsa had quickly turned to the drink to dull her pain. And the more ale she consumed the more sour her disposition had become. And as her sons grew, she cruelly distanced herself from William whom resembled Luther's killer and desperately clung to the only reminder of her husband, her youngest son Marcus.
Poor William, through no fault of his own, had been viewed by his mother as a lazy oaf, a ne'er-do-well that would never amount to anything. Elsa Van Sciver had treated her eldest with utter disdain. And when he was old enough, she had promptly hired him out to the local meat packing plant so that his meager wages could support the family.
Elsa had screamed at her oldest boy. "You might as well go to work! I can't stand the sight of you anyhow!"
Marcus can still recall being the silent witness to many of William's beatings at the hands of their strict overbearing mother when he failed to bring home a full day's pay.
It had been a great contrast from the way she practically doted on and spoiled Marcus. Marcus can still feel the searing guilt for being Mother's favorite. But William had taken it all in stride and never treated his little brother with any resentment. It had been quite the opposite, really. William had always protected Marcus and had even taken a whipping or two in his stead even though Marcus had been the transgressor.
William had even lied to his mother once when Marcus had stolen a few shillings out of her purse, taking the brunt of Elsa's cruel punishment. And Marcus had adored his brother all the more for it.
The boys had indeed been inseparable despite Elsa's best efforts to drive a wedge between them.
"Marcus, now you don't go letting that brother of yours lead you by the nose! He's nothing but trouble, do you hear?"
But Marcus had chosen not to heed his mother's warnings and happily followed William around the grimy streets of 19th Century London, getting into scraps with the local hooligans and befriending some of the street urchins that his mother considered to be riff raff.
It was with unkempt children that he and William had learned how to play cricket. A dirty knot of rags had served as their ball, and planks of rotted lumber were used as bats. The empty lot behind the church had been their playing field. Marcus and William took to the game rather quickly. And soon they were reigning cricket champions of Whitby Street.
And as the Van Sciver brothers grew into manhood, they had been just as joined at the hip as they had always been. Drinking, smoking and carousing into the wee morning hours, much to their mother's dismay, the brothers had vowed to always be together. However, their seemingly irrevocable bond would one day be broken. As fate would have it, a life-altering event had occurred, severing the blood ties between the brothers forever.
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Now as he lowers himself to sit on his haunches, Marcus Van Sciver stares intently at the child before him. Feeling a bit intimidated, Orisha takes two small steps back. But when the handsome man before her smiles, she can't help but smile back. Taking one of her tiny hands in his, Marcus shakes it gently. "Well Miss Orisha, it is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
The child places her free hand over mouth as she giggles. Then she looks up at Krista and says, "He's nice, Miss Krista!"
"He'd better be if he knows what's good him." Krista's sarcasm earns a harsh glare from her husband, but she chooses to ignore it.
Turning her attention away from Marcus, Krista offers, "You know what Orisha? A little bird just told me that there's some strawberry gelato in the freezer. Isn't strawberry your favorite?"
With an expectant little grin, the child squeals with delight. "Uh-huh, I love strawberry!"
Offering his hand to the little girl Marcus says, "I would be most honored if you allow me to be your escort to the kitchen."
Orisha nods enthusiastically and without saying a word, grabs the hand being offered to her.
Now that the ice had been broken, Marcus, Krista and Orisha leave the gymnasium, but not before they bid a fond farewell to Bessie, who is grinning from ear to ear.
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Mr. and Mrs. Van Sciver spendthe rest of the afternoon and a better part of the early evening with Orisha. Marcus discovers after time that the child is indeed very bright for a 6-year-old and is downright enchanting. And much to his own astonishment, he does enjoy her company. Marcus doesn't mind in the least to listen to her prattle on about her friends, school and favorite things.
Krista on the other hand, had quietly fallen into the background, only interjecting a word or two when needed, to allow Marcus and Orisha to get better acquainted.
And when the appointed hour to take Orisha back to the girl's dormitory finally arrives, Marcus is reluctantly to do so.
As Krista looks on, she is supremely touched when the little girl bestows a timid goodnight kiss on Marcus' his cool cheek before toddling off to bed.
Marcus sighs. "Orisha is adorable!" Then suddenly, he feels a slight panic grip him. He turns to his wife to ask, "She isn't one of the infected children, right?"
With a cheerless little smile, Krista replies. "I'm afraid she is Marcus. She was just diagnosed a week before we arrived."
"Oh no, how awful for her! How much time does she have left?" Marcus is saddened at the prospect of losing a sweet child, such as Orisha.
"I don't know really. Dr. Darkoh says it could be just a few weeks before her immune system starts to deteriorate, leaving Orisha vulnerable to any air borne illness. Her condition will be so weak that even something like the common cold can kill her."
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Still in shock regarding the news about Orisha's diagnoses, Marcus is restless. He paces back and forth the large bedroom suite, brooding. In the foreground the muted sound of the shower running can be heard. The heady aroma of Krista's floral and citrus shampoo causes Marcus' nostrils to flare.
As much as he would love to strip off his clothes and join her, Marcus' mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Orisha.
Sometimes life is just not fair, is it?
With all of the best medical equipment and research scientists at his disposable and they were still not closer to finding a cure for this monstrous virus.
What in the hell has this Dr. Darkoh or her predecessors for that matter been doing with money I've so generously donated?
Marcus makes up his mind to get his answers soon. He will pay the chief of staff a visit in the morning.
As Krista continues to shower, Marcus decides to get some air. Walking toward the French doors that lead into the small balcony, Marcus quickly opens one of the doors then steps through it.
Placing his hands on the metal railing, Marcus inhales deeply, welcoming the cool night air into his lungs. A light breeze caresses his face as his blue eyes take in the majesty of the starlit sky. Here in this unaffected setting, away from neon lights of the big city, Marcus can appreciate nature in all its splendor.
The nocturnal sounds of chirping crickets, the flapping of bats' wings flying over the marsh lands fill his ears. He closes his eyes to allow his senses to hone in on the soft growls of a pride of lions hunting for their prey in the distance. Curling his lips into a smile, Marcus casually entertains the notion of Bessie's ridiculous theory of murderous shape-shifting beasts rampaging across the African savannah. Then his thoughts turn to his brother, William lost to him centuries ago. Ever since his step foot onto this continent, Marcus can't help but think of him. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he feels the familiar presence of his wife's arms encircling his waist.
Laying her cheek against his back, Krista murmurs softly, "A penny for your thoughts?"
Reaching up, Marcus covers one of Krista's hands with one of his own. Sighing, he turns around to face his wife. "Did I ever tell you about my brother?"
With eyes as wide as saucers, Krista asks, "A brother? I think I would have remembered if you had mentioned that little detail!"
Fearing that he may have angered his wife, Marcus immediately apologizes. "Darling, I'm sorry if I didn't tell you sooner. It's just that memories of him are very painful for me, even after all this time."
"Were you two close?"
"Very. If you'll forgive for saying so, William and I were as close as you and Zach were." Marcus says carefully, ever mindful that even the mere mention of Krista's twin might cause her discomfort.
"William? Was he older or younger than you?"
Tearing his eyes away from Krista's probing gaze Marcus says softly, "He was my elder brother and I loved him very much. And he is the reason why I've refused to travel to Africa, until now."
Krista can see that Marcus is so troubled by this conversation and offers to end it.
Re-directing his gaze back onto Krista's concerned expression, he quickly dismisses her suggestion. "Thanks, babe, but I think it's time you hear this. I need you to hear this."
Wordlessly, Krista nods, encouraging her husband to peel back the layers of time, to reveal his past.
She listens intently as Marcus recounts his childhood, of watching his brother receive nothing from their mother, while he was treated like the crown prince. And despite this, their bond had been sacred.
"But…" Marcus begins to say. "Something happened to change all that."
"What was it, Marcus?"
Walking away from Krista, Marcus lowers his body into one of the rattan chairs. Slouched over, with his elbows on his knees, he buries his face in his hands.
Alarmed by his defeated posture, Krista goes over to her husband. Kneeling in front him, she takes Marcus into her arms. Marcus, however quickly pulls out of her embrace and slides his body deeper into the chair until his spine hits the woven back.
Krista looks up at her husband, but his angelic face is now cast in shadow. His glittering sapphire eyes burning brightly in the dark are the only distinguishable features.
He speaks again, but this time his voice is strangled by the torment he's held in check for three and half centuries.
"In the spring of 1898 William had met and fallen in love with the daughter of the local butcher. I'd never seen him so happy and I was thrilled for him. He courted her for a few months before he drummed up the courage to bring the girl home to meet my mother and me.
On the night that he finally introduced us, something unforeseen had happened, something that would change the course of all of our lives.
You see Krista; the woman of William's dreams had become mine too. That woman had been none other than Isabel."
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End Chapter Two