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 our last chapter we delved a little deeper into the past when Marcus Van Sciver revealed what had happened to his estranged brother, William.

Desperately seeking redemption for the sins of his past, the vampire overlord is determined to eradicate the syndrome claiming the lives of the people of Botswana.

However, Dr. Darkoh, resentful of Marcus' meddling and authority over her is determined to thwart the efforts of the undead industrialist. And as the two adversaries lock horns with one another, an unforeseen catastrophe will occur that lead our vampire couple into the direst of circumstances.

It's going to get rough folks, so I suggest you tighten your seat belts…

Chapter Four

"There you are. I've looking all over for you!" Krista calls out to her husband from the end of the wide hospital corridor.

Upon seeing his wife, Marcus Van Sciver can't help but smile. She is a very welcome sight, especially after having verbally sparred with that she-devil, Dr. Darkoh.

That woman is definitely hiding something, and Marcus would not rest until he uncovered the secret she is so fiercely protecting. Tomorrow morning he will carefully review every file and share the data with his own independent team of investigators. There just has to be something that has been overlooked regarding the suspected mutation. Marcus is almost sure of it.

He now waits as his stunning wife strides over to him, enjoying every little shift and shimmy she makes as her hips undulate from side to side. To Marcus, Krista is sheer poetry in motion, a natural beauty that still manages to captivate him each and every time he sees her.

When she is finally standing in front him, Marcus' arms draw her into an affectionate embrace. And without delay, he kisses Krista soundly on the mouth. Krista's hands slide up the front of his tailored suit jacket until they come to rest on Marcus' broad shoulders. After a few seconds he slowly withdraws from her lips. Looking into her luminous eyes, he smiles.

"Hello darling." Marcus' greeting is warm and loving.

Krista laughs as she responds to her over attentive husband. "Well 'hello' there, yourself. I was just coming to get you to see if you wanted to have lunch with Orisha and me."

But suddenly, the thought of consuming solid food proves to be absolutely nauseating for Marcus, which is a little disconcerting. A minute grimace registers across his handsome features, as his thoughts try to pin point the exact cause of this odd malady.

Perhaps the affects of serum to suppress his appetite for a liquid diet are catching up to him. After few more seconds of mulling the quandary over in his head, Marcus concludes that his queasiness is attributed to the combination of jet lag and his body's metabolic adjustment due to the lack blood.

Krista, who is intuitively perceptive to all things concerning her husband, notices the slight shift in Marcus' in deportment. Narrowing her eyes, she intently scrutinizes him.

"Babe, are you okay? You look a bit green around the gills." Krista's concern is evident in her voice.

Marcus smiles weakly at her as he tries to dispel her fears. "It's nothing, my love. I'm still adjusting to the serum, that's all. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should have Dr. Darkoh give you a check up just in case. After all, the serum does affect each vampire differently."

Raising his hand up in a dismissive gesture, Marcus moves head from side to side. "No thanks, I think I've seen enough of that woman for one day."

Marcus' last remark causes one of Krista's well defined eyebrows to arch.

"So I take it your meeting didn't go well?"

He releases Krista from his embrace, but doesn't entirely relinquish his hold on her. Placing an arm around her tapered waist, he begins to guide Krista down the hall in a leisurely stroll.

Marcus thinks carefully before he answers. "I'll withhold my judgment for now. I want to take a look at the records first."

"Is there something wrong, Marcus?" The apprehension in her tone mirrors her husband's concerns.

"No." Marcus feels guilty about lying to Krista, but until he and his researchers find anything conclusive, there is really no need to make her worry unnecessarily.

"So, what's on the menu this afternoon?" Marcus asks in his not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject of conversation.

Putting on a phony French accent, Krista humorously mimics a snooty maitre d'. "Ah, Monsieur Van Sciver today our talented chefs have prepared a gastronomic delight for your dining pleasure. They have taken plump delicate pasta made from the finest semolina flour and bathed each delectable morsel in a succulent sauce consisting of the most excellent fromage the Americans have to offer. Next, your taste buds will practically sing for joy as they savor the petite pois picked fresh from our very own garden. And lastly, you haven't lived until you've tried the chocolate mousse, my personal favorite."

Marcus lets the information sink in, then with a sly grin he says, "So basically we're about to have macaroni and cheese, green peas and chocolate pudding."

Smiling sheepishly, Krista gives her husband a sidelong glance. Dropping the accent she says apologetically, "I'm afraid so. Sorry honey, but it's Orisha's favorite meal."

"Say no more, I'll endure it."

"Did I mention the pudding is homemade?"

"How homemade is it?"

Krista giggles like a mischievous school girl. "Well, I actually witnessed the cooks open the packets of Jell-O instant pudding myself."

Marcus says wryly, "Sounds yummy."

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After polishing off lunch, the Van Sciver's chose to spend the afternoon with the children.

With Orisha in tow, Marcus and Krista make their approach to the wing that houses the orphanage and school. As they continue to walk towards their destination, their auditory senses are suddenly assaulted by the melodious tones of a choir. The voices, in perfect harmonious amalgamation, are exalted, giving thanks and praise to a benevolent God in his heaven.

To Marcus' discerning ear, the altos and sopranos are singing in perfect pitch, high above the baritones and tenors. As the latter add a richness and definition to the composition, Marcus is astounded by the remarkable skill of the chorus. Soon the vocalists are accompanied by the unmistakable tones of a symphonic orchestra.

"That's Mozart's Requiem!" he exclaims to no one in particular.

Krista smiles as she observes her husband stand perfectly still. Slowly he closes his eyes and allows the splendor of Wolfgang "Amadeus" Mozart's final masterpiece wash over him.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi,
dona eis requiem.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi,
dona eis requiem sempiternam.

(Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world,
grant them rest.

Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world,
grant them everlasting rest.)

Marcus loves this particular piece of music. And every time he listens to it he is instantly reminded of William.

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His heart is pained as he remembers the small memorial service in that dilapidated church in the poorest section of London. His mother had refused to attend, of course. But Isabel had stood firmly at his side as he said his final goodbyes to his beloved sibling.

And although the pews had been in disrepair and the stained-glass windows with its saintly imagery had definitely seen better days, the glorious music that had emanated from the choir transformed the impoverished house of the Lord, into a holiest of temples exalting all who had stood to listen.

Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine,
cum sanctis mis in aeternum,
quia pius es.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis,
cum sanetis tuis in aeternum,
quia plus es

(May eternal light shine on them, O Lord.
with Thy saints for ever, because
Thou art merciful.

Grant the dead eternal rest, O Lord,
and may perpetual light shine on them,
with Thy saints for ever,
because Thou art merciful.)

Marcus can remember quite clearly now that it was during this particular passage that he had started to weep. He had tried to stay strong for Isabel, be her pillar of strength. But as the choir sung of eternal peace, he offered up a silent prayer of hope that somehow William had found precisely that.

His memories now leap forward to the decades after losing Isabel as well. Marcus had finally accepted his fate as one of the undead, embracing all of the perks that came with immortality.

And as a result, through the influence and power he had amassed, Marcus Van Sciver had become a patron of the arts. Although he primarily donated his time and money to the restoration of old buildings to preserve their architectural beauty, the Detroit Metropolitan Philharmonic had become his true passion.

Not only had he used his resources to renovate the aged structure, bringing it back to its former glory, Marcus also dedicated himself to ensure that only the finest musicians and singers performed there.

All he had asked in return was that every 18th of March the orchestra would perform Mozart's Requiem for an audience of one. The maestro at the time had thought it a strange request, but for the amount of money that Marcus had generously offered, the conductor had not refused him.

And so it was, year after year, decade after decade, Marcus Van Sciver would reserve that special day on his calendar. He would clear his schedule, and took no calls.

Every March 18th was spent in reverential isolation, and Marcus would see no one. And as night fell, he would make his lonely pilgrimage to the elegant auditorium that had become his sanctuary, his church. Silently, Marcus would take his usual seat in the center mezzanine balcony and listen with deepest sentimentality to the melancholic tones of Mozart's great funeral Mass in its entirety.

March 18th had been William's birthday. And Marcus' yearly ritual had become his tribute to a brother and a wife that were so well loved and lost to him for all eternity.

Each time Marcus listened to the strings, the percussion, and horns accompanied by the ethereal voices of this magnificent grand opus, he knew without a doubt that it was the closest thing he could ever be to a Heaven that he no longer deserved.

And he would weep because of it.

Marcus' anguish, his eternal torment had been brought on by the mortal sin he had committed against his own brother, thus condemning the two people he had loved most to an early grave. And yet in many ways, Marcus had considered both William and Isabel to have been the lucky ones. They were longer here to suffer.

Only Marcus remained. And oh how he had prayed that death would take him as well. But destiny, it seemed had other plans for Marcus Van Sciver.

For his transgression, Marcus was almost positive that God had brought down his anger and retribution upon his head. He had become an accursed creature, feared and reviled by humans, and yet never fully embraced the ones that had turned him. Always the turn-blood looked down upon the natural born vampires that made him what he is.

He had been a man caught between two worlds, never truly belonging to either. Desolate and alone, Marcus submitted to his dark fate to walk the earth for all eternity with only his ambition and hate to spur him on. After all, it was a fitting punishment for someone so wretched and selfish. Marcus, solitary and stoic racked with bitter misery, suffered in silence. His utter loneliness had been a constant reminder of what he had lost through his own recklessness.

If he hadn't had loved Isabel, she and William would have been spared. Marcus had been sure of this. It was his fault they had perished, and Marcus' hated himself for it. Forever trapped in an isolated existence of death and sorrow, he had been ensnared in a dark dismal world with no light, no joy and no peace.

But fate, in its perpetual irony, had granted him a second chance. Through another tragedy of his own making, Marcus had experienced a startling miracle. It was something so unexpected, so remarkable that Marcus could scarcely believe it had actually taken place.

Marcus, for the first time in decades had felt the familiar pangs of love. And as much as he tried to deny and fight against his feelings, there was no escaping the fact that he had fallen hopelessly in love with Krista Starr, the sister of the treacherous Zach.

And what had been even more staggering was that in spite of everything Marcus had put her through, which included turning her against her will, Krista had learned not only to accept him, but she actually returned his feelings. It was their shared misery, and mutual need to hang onto even a sliver of their humanity that had united them.

Marcus mentally sighs as his thoughts turn to his precious wife, his consort, his soul mate, his Krista. Like a godsend, she had finally led him out of his gloomy emotional prison, shown him the way to his redemption and salvation.

Marcus is eternally grateful to her for doing so. It is a debt that he cannot fully repay, even in a thousand lifetimes.

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With eyes closed and still lost in his reverie, Marcus hears the last notes of the requiem slowly and gently drawing to a close. It is a clear indication to the world weary vampire that is it time to relinquish his memories and return to the here and now.

As the final cords of the string section harmonize with the sweet angelic voices of the sopranos, Marcus feels the fingers of his wife's hand entwine with his. He takes comfort from this simple display of affection and demonstrates his appreciation by giving Krista's hand a little squeeze.

At last it is done. The glorious symphonic work that started off with magnificent vociferousness has now ended. Its last poignant tone is still reverberating throughout the corridor where Krista, Marcus and Orisha are still standing.

Thoroughly impressed with the musicians' and vocalists rendition of his favorite musical piece, he wishes to congratulate them on their obvious skill and talent. Letting go of Krista's hand, Marcus swiftly strides to the end of the hall, then pushes the heavy doors of the auditorium wide open.

And the sight before his eyes absolutely floors him.

Expecting to find seasoned, well-practiced virtuosos in their prime and on top of their game, Marcus is stunned when he was greeted by the youthful cheery faces of the children and the adolescents that comprise both the chorus and the orchestra. Marcus finds it absolutely hard to believe that it was their tiny hands that not only wielded the variety of instruments, but they also possess the aptitude to produce a sound of the highest quality.

As his cobalt blue eyes scan the happy smiles of each child his attention is suddenly wrenched away by the reprimanding clucking of the school's headmistress.

"Now you've gone and done it, Fancy Britches! You've spoiled the surprise! Ever since they had found out you was comin' these children have been practicin' for weeks! And now look at you, barging in here, like some rampaging elephant!"

Upon hearing Bessie's last remark, some of the children begin to snicker with delight.

Under very different circumstances Marcus might feel compelled to firmly tell Bessie to remember her place. But he is so touched by the children's accomplished talent; Marcus gives them an enthusiastic round of applause instead.

"Bravo, bravo! That was in a word: stupendous!" Marcus lavishes the juvenile symphony with well-deserved praise.

He then turns to Bessie. "These children are amazing, wherever did they learn to play such an intricate and complicated piece?"

Indignant, Bessie opens her eyes widely. "Why, right here of course! What did you think that we spend our time just learnin' about arithmetic and grammar? Some of the kids are prodigies, ya' know!"

Smiling, Marcus nods in agreement. "So I take it then that you have been the maestro behind all of this?"

Astonished and a little embarrassed, Bessie emphatically shakes her head from side to side. "Oh no, I wish I could take the credit but that honor belongs to your wife."

Shocked by Bessie's admission, Marcus whirls around to confront Krista. He does so quickly, he almost loses his footing.

Taking her hands in his, Marcus looks upon Krista with love and gratitude. "I don't know what…"

Removing one of her hands out of his affectionate grasp, she raises fingers to his lips to silence him. "It's okay baby. You don't have to say anything. This was going to be my anniversary present to you."

Anniversary? What anniversary? They had just celebrated their 99th year of marriage in grand style. What on earth could Krista possibly mean?

As much she would love to see her husband wriggle like a worm on a hook, Krista decides to be kind. "Don't worry, honey. You're not in trouble. It's just that I wanted to give you something special to mark the occasion."

"And what occasion is that?" Marcus asks warily. He knows that when it comes to women it's best to be on guard. One never knows what could set them off.

Krista leans over and whispers in his ear. "Well you may not remember, but next Tuesday marks the 100th anniversary of the night you gave me Isabel's locket. It was the night when I knew you loved me."

Marcus' jaw drops with incredulous surprise. He never imagined that Krista would revere that night. After all she was still spying on him for Blade at the time.

Smiling, Krista pulls back to gaze upon every nuance of the slack-jawed expression on her husband's face. "After that night, I made my choice. And I chose you, Marcus."

At a loss for words, Marcus responds in the fashion most appropriate to him. Taking Krista's face in his hands, he bestows a tender kiss on his wife's lips.

However, at the precise moment their mouths meet, a sharp searing pain rips through Marcus' body forcing him to double over.

Alarmed to see her husband in such a state, Krista immediately tries to help him. In an effort to comfort him, she places her arm across his hunched over back. "Oh God, Marcus, what's wrong?"

Another shockwave of agony surges through him, negating Marcus' ability to answer. Krista urgently turns to Bessie and urges the matronly woman to call for Dr. Darkoh.

Through clenched teeth, Marcus tries to object. The last thing he wants is to have that quack examine him. But Krista, whose only concern is for his wellbeing, refuses to listen to his unintelligible protests.

"Bessie call Dr. Darkoh, now!"

Without a moment's hesitation, the headmistress moves swiftly towards the intercom panel. As Krista and the children look on in horror, Marcus' condition rapidly worsens. The whites of his eyes have now taken on a bluish hue, eerily accentuating the sapphire colored irises.

Marcus' characteristic pale skin appears paler still by the sudden appearance of a sickly hypothermia-like tinge. With trembling lips, Marcus tries to form a coherent sentence but his speech faculties fail him miserably. He then experiences another bolt of pain that forces him to go down to his knees.

Then, inexplicably Marcus' vision starts to dim, the world around him slowly fades out of existence.

Krista clutches him more tightly as her words beseech him not to succumb to unconsciousness. "Baby, stay with me! Help is coming but you have to stay with me!"

But it's no use. Marcus starts to flail about uncontrollably as a seizure overtakes him. His eyes roll into the back of his head as Krista cries frantically. "Oh God no, no, Marcus don't leave me!"

He can still hear Krista's voice calling out desperately to him, but she sounds so far away.

Suddenly Marcus imagines her standing on some distance shore begging him to swim back to her, back to the safety of her arms. But he's gone out too far. The shore line is barely visible to him as he feels the force of the powerful current start to pull him under. Lost and set adrift in the vast ocean of oblivion, Marcus thrashes his arms and legs about with all his might trying desperately to try to stay afloat. His body however is violently tugged under the massive black waves. He opens his mouth in a vain attempt to scream, but soon realizes his mistake when the cold liquidity of the foul putrid water starts to fill his lungs. Marcus is helplessly drowning as the great sea nothingness swallows him whole.

And down, down he goes. Slipping deeper into the fathomless abyss, Marcus finds nothing but the dead silence and emptiness of the void.

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End Chapter Four