Blood Ties
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel Comics, New Line Cinema or Blade the Series. However all original characters are mine.
Author's Notes: I send a heartfelt apology to all of my loyal readers for my long absence. I know that some of you may have given up all hope for new chapter. But I'm back and so are my frequent updates. Again, I'm sorry for being away so long.
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.
Our last chapter ended with the revelation of Krista's impending motherhood. I know that many of you maybe asking, how is this possible? Vampires can't breed, can they?
All will be explained in this chapter.
Chapter Six
"Pregnant? That's impossible! I can't be!"
Dr. Mutabo only smiles at Krista's disbelief. "I can certainly understand your reaction, Mrs. Van Sciver. Most first-time mothers experience a period of denial, it's only natural."
Krista shakes her head from side to side, refuting the kindly physician's estimation on her current state of mind. "You don't understand. I can't be pregnant! It's not possible!"
Dr. Mutabo looks contemplatively at his patient for a moment. He comprehends her apprehension, but the test results are conclusive. Krista is with child, and she has to accept it.
"Mrs. Van Sciver, as impossible as it is to believe, you are pregnant. I had Dr. Shepard, the in-house expert on vampirology, run the test three times just to be certain."
Noting that Krista still remains unconvinced, Dr. Mutabo gently lays his hand upon hers. He manages a small smile as he gives her hand a slight squeeze of reassurance. "There is no doubt, Krista. You are going to have a baby."
Krista is absolutely inexpressible. Her heart and mind are trying to reconcile the inescapable fact that she is going to have a child!
Marcus' child!
Oh God, Marcus! How will he take the news that he is going to be a father? He was just getting used to the idea of being around children and now he's going to get saddled with one of his own!
A half-smile slowly forms on her lips. Could Krista dare to hope that her prayers have finally been answered? As miraculous as this may seem, anxiety and uncertainty quickly douse her newfound optimism. She just has to know how this happened and more importantly, why.
"Dr. Mutabo, you said that you spoke to the other doctors familiar with my medical history, correct?"
"Of course, I did." Dr. Mutabo's reply is a bit incredulous for Krista's liking, but she knows he only has her best interests at heart.
"Then you've been brought up to speed on how things work with vampires. Simply put, turn-bloods cannot conceive! When I lost my mortal life I was rendered infertile. Only purebloods can procreate. It's their way of making sure the bloodlines remain untainted. It's something to do with birthrights and inheritances, ensuring that only natural born vampires remain as the ruling class."
Not caring a thing about the vampire sub-culture's internal politics, Dr. Mutabo dismissively waves his hand. He is a man ruled by logic and scientific evidence. And in this case, the evidence is overwhelming. Krista, despite the odds against her, has a life growing inside her womb.
lllll
His learned colleague Dr. Shepard did disclose, in great detail, the differences of pureblood and turn-blood bodily processes, specifically vampire procreation.
Purebloods, being natural-born hominus nocturni, can breed and bear offspring in the same manner as homo-sapiens do. Females even possess the inherent ability to lactate and nurse their young. They can almost be classified as being mammalian in nature. Logically, not being warm-blooded creatures, hominus nocturni are considered to be a humanoid sub-species in a class all by themselves.
Of course it is not milk that is produced in their mammary glands but a highly concentrated form of a plasma-like substance called hemo-lactoglobulin. It is very nutritious and beneficial to the infant vampire.
And it is during this crucial period of lactation that a vampire experiences the most growth. Bypassing the early stages of infancy and childhood associated with human development, a pureblood vampire will reach pre-adolescence and in some rare cases, even young adulthood within the first year of its life.
However, that's when the "growth spurt" ends. Dr. Mutabo, to his amazement, has learned that a natural born vampire's ageing process slows down considerably after year-one. In fact the lucky devils only age one human year for every two centuries they are alive, thus retaining their youthful appearance for hundreds of years.
As for turn-bloods, although they share many similarities with their pureblood counterparts, their vampirism is brought on by infection, not genetics Fascinatingly enough, from a strictly scientific basis, it is a rare enzyme, found only in the turn-blood offshoots of the species that is responsible for this truly amazing transformation. It is a powerful toxin produced by special glands located just above the canines.
When a turn-blood vampire feeds on a victim the poisonous contaminant is quickly introduced into the bloodstream. This potent venom will bring about extreme biological changes in the human if he or she is not bled dry. Changes so acute, so severe, that it causes a complete shut down of the nervous system, severing the messages from the brain that control all bodily functions.
The heart ceases its palpitations, the lungs collapse and in some cases the muscles will atrophy. Only the brain remains active. However, most medical examiners do not find the need to use an electroencephalogram to detect brainwaves for the seemingly deceased.
So, even to the most discriminating clinical eye, a victim of a vampire attack appears for all intents and purposes to be clinically dead.
The so-called "mortal" life has ended. But, as Dr. Mutabo has discovered through his discussions with Dr. Shepard that is not the case at all. The human is very much alive, but has fallen into a state of complete death-like paralysis. It is a temporary hibernation phase that allows the metamorphosis from human to vampire to take place.
And once the process is complete, the victim emerges from their slumber in a new mutated state of being. No longer human, they now possess the same characteristics as their pureblood brethren. But with one significant difference: they cannot reproduce. The venom has seen to that. Whether by natural design or an unknown plot by the purebloods to keep their numbers low, turn-bloods, as a general rule, are sterile. The only way they can "procreate" is by "infecting" another human, as they once had been.
Of course the leaders from all twelve Houses have also curtailed this practice by limiting the number of humans an "infected" vampire could actually turn in a decade, thus ensuring a continued food supply.
lllll
"Then if you know all of this, doctor, how can I be pregnant? Both my husband and I are turn-bloods."
Dr. Mutabo nods, knowing that Krista's misgivings are, in theory, well-founded.
The kindly physician calmly regards his patient before he reveals his startling prognosis. "My dear Mrs. Van Sciver, you are pregnant due to an unforeseen but extraordinary side effect of the serum. Because you had the foresight to be inoculated during the first few weeks after you were infected, the serum somehow began to counteract some of the typical parasitic symptoms of your kind, such as the need to ingest blood on a continual basis. And due to your continued and long-term use of the synthetic plasma, your reproductive organs' fertility has been restored."
"But what about Marcus, was he also affected by the serum this way?" Krista's exasperation is very evident as she furrows her brow.
"Yes and no. What I mean to say is that yes, Mr. Van Sciver's ability to procreate was resurrected as but the serum's effects were too sudden, too immediate. His body did not have the benefit of small doses over time so that he could become accustomed to the metabolic changes."
Krista is alarmed by the doctor's insinuations. She does not like the turn of this exchange in the slightest. "What are you trying to say Dr. Mutabo? That my husband overmedicated himself?"
Dr. Mutabo's face takes on a grave expression before he addresses his distressed patient. "I'm afraid so, Krista. Marcus knew that because of his age, the serum would work slowly on him. He feared that his need for blood would ruin your trip here so he asked Dr. Shepard to inject him with a double dose of serum despite my colleague's misgivings."
Her eyes begin to well up with unshed tears, as Krista is racked with tremendous guilt. Anxiety causes her to roughly wring her hands as she silently lays the blames at her own feet over what happened to Marcus. If she hadn't accepted his offer to accompany her this time, then he wouldn't have felt the need risk his health to please her.
Despite her feeble attempts to put on a brave face, Dr. Mutabo sees right through Krista's masquerade. Sensing Krista's worries, the health care provider tenderly lays his fingers on her hands. His touch is light yet caring and reassuring. Soon enough she feels Dr. Mutabo's warmth and kindness radiating outward as the tips of his calloused fingers slightly graze her skin. Grateful for the simple gesture of compassion, the unlikely mother-to-be ceases the nervous kneading of her hands.
When he is assured that Krista's fretfulness has been vanquished, Dr. Mutabo addresses her in a soothing fatherly tone. "Everything will be alright, Mrs. Van Sciver, you'll see. You're husband is a strong man, a true warrior. He'll be back on his feet before you know it! But you, my dear need to keep your stress level down. It's not good for the baby."
"I-I don't know, doctor…this is all so much to absorb. Marcus is ill and now there's a baby to think about!"
"A baby! Oh my sweet girl, I'm so happy for you!"
Bessie's boisterous voice causes both Krista and Dr. Mutabo to look in her direction. She has been standing in the doorway of Krista's hospital room for just a few seconds, but it is all the time she needed to overhear the joyful news.
Grinning from ear to ear, Bessie beams with pride as she fast approaches the woman that is like a daughter to her.
"Krista, honey, you're going to be a mother!" Bessie's says lovingly. Then she places a motherly peck on Krista's left cheek.
Smiling feebly at the headmistress, Krista Van Sciver manages to croak out a response. "Yeah, can you believe it?"
Blinded by her own feelings of elation, Bessie fails to notice the apprehension in Krista's voice. Instead, she prattles on about all of the preparations that will need to be made before the arrival of the Van Sciver's first born.
Krista tries her best to share in Bessie's enthusiasm about her plans for the nursery, and shopping for the baby. But her concerns regarding her husband's conditions taint what should be a cheerful occasion.
Talking a mile a minute, Bessie hasn't allowed Krista to get a word in edgewise, but that's just fine by Mrs. Van Sciver. She allows the overbearing but well-meaning woman to speak for the both of them.
As a man that lives in a house full of women, Dr. Mutabo knows when his presence is no longer required. Quickly, he excuses himself, sighting the reason for his sudden departure to his duties in the lab. Giving Krista a final reassuring smile, he quickly turns to go.
"Thank you, Dr. Mutabo… for everything."
Touched by Krista's gratitude, the competent and kindly physician replies, "You're very welcome."
Then he gracefully leaves her room to give Bessie and Krista the privacy they need to plan for the blessed event.
Bessie barely acknowledges the doctor's exit as she continues to engineer the arrangements for the birth of Krista's baby.
"Mamoa, you make this all sound as if I were bringing forth the Crown Prince of England or something! I'm sure that a simple baby shower with just the nurses and other female staff members will be fine. Don't fuss so!"
Surprised and hurt by Krista's dismissive attitude about such a significant occurrence, Bessie is prompted to ask, "Child, what's wrong? You've barely said a word. Aren't you happy about the baby?"
Sighing with despair, the immortal expectant mother replies, "I am. It's all I've ever wanted. But I'm worried about Marcus. He's still so ill and with the situation with the serum he may not be able to say here with me. Oh Bessie, I don't want to have my baby alone while its father is on the other side of the ocean!"
Slapping a beefy hand to her forehead, Bessie suddenly remembers the reason she came to see Krista in the first place. "Oh sweet Jesus, I'd almost forgotten! I have great news, Krista! Marcus has just regained consciousness and he's been askin' to see you!"
Upon hearing Bessie's words, her spirits are suddenly lifted. Krista bolts from her bed with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.
Marcus is awake! I can hardly believe it. Her thoughts are a happy jumble as her heart races with the anticipation of seeing her husband again.
"Mamoa, bring me my clothes. I can't see him wearing this god-awful thing!" Krista points down to the dreadful institutional green colored gown that now drapes her slender frame.
Bessie springs into action to retrieve the freshly pressed garments she had the foresight to place in the hospital room locker just hours earlier.
Handing over the simple but elegant outfit of a white silk blouse, black knee length tweed skirt and black leather boots, Bessie watches as Krista hurriedly claims them.
A few minutes later, Krista Van Sciver is dressed and ready to greet her beloved. After applying the final touches of her light makeup, she picks up her brush, running it through her brown mane with long, vigorous strokes until the natural shine in her hair is achieved.
Placing the brush down onto the bathroom vanity, she regards her reflection in the mirror one last time. Satisfied with what she sees, Krista Van Sciver is set to see the man she loves and give him the happy news of his impending fatherhood.
lllll
On a deserted dirt road leading away from the medical compound, a lone vehicle is seen speeding along at high velocity. Its occupant maneuvers the fine luxury automobile if they were being chased by the Devil himself.
Wearing large round sunglasses to shield her vision from the searing sun, Dr. Shelia Darkoh sits behind the wheel of her cherry red Jaguar sedan with a heavy foot on the gas pedal.
Deep in thought, her only desire at this moment is to put as much distance between the car and her former place of employment.
That bitch! Her mind angrily lashes out at Krista. Although her hatred for that elitist bloodsucker is increasing by each passing minute, Shelia quickly turns her fury inward for underestimating her foe. Dr. Darkoh had carelessly forgotten that underneath that do-gooder exterior lays the heart of a killer.
No matter, Krista still managed to play right into her hands by exposing her true self to the staff. And yes, Shelia's dismissal from the hospital was a minor setback. But now the rest of her plan can be executed without any further distractions, like caring for those sniveling snot-nosed brats!
Suddenly, she turns the wheel a hard right, placing the vehicle in an easterly direction. Soon enough any remaining vestiges of civilization are left far behind as the Jag pushes onward toward the desolation of the desert.
The arid wasteland is barren, save for the majestic looking sand-dunes that are scattered about as far as the eye can see. With expertise of Les Mans racecar driver, Shelia effortlessly weaves her car in between the towering mounds of sand.
After what seems to be an infinitesimal amount of time, she finally encounters what appears to be the end of the desolate tract. Sheila smiles, when off in the distance she sees her objective: a massive solid wall of craggy sun-scorched rock jutting skyward from the red clay earth below.
Gripping the steering wheel tightly in her talon-like hands, Sheila presses her foot even harder on the gas pedal forcing her car to accelerate to its maximum velocity. Like a guided missile, the Jaguar speeds towards the naturally-made monolith, as a great plume of dust and gravel trails behind it.
The likelihood of another living soul out on the inhospitable terrain bearing witness to Shelia's frenzied driving is highly improbable. Nonetheless, if there is someone, they might think that the woman behind the wheel is on a direct collision course with colossal rock formation.
At last, when the car is just millimeters away from what might be certain death for its driver, the displaced physician doesn't even bat an eyelash as the jagged face the wall amazingly starts to shift, creating a cavernous passageway at its base. Like a huge gaping mouth, the rocky edifice swallows the Jaguar whole.
lllll
As the face of the rock closes soundly behind her vehicle, Shelia Darkoh suddenly finds herself blanketed in total darkness. Reaching over the steering wheel, she presses a button to switch on the headlights.
"And let there be light" Shelia quotes the Book of Genesis aloud as the halogen lamps flood the dark corridor with much needed illumination.
Steadily the Jaguar travels the entire length the narrow passageway until it begins to widen, revealing an immense cavern at the very end. Unlike the gloomy bat infested tunnel with its guano-caked walls, this grotto is laden with the outrageous and luxurious comforts fit for a king. Every inch of wall space is covered with plush tapestries of deep burgundy and royal purple with just a hint of gold on the fringes.
Paintings by renowned artist from Caravaggio to Dali hang in places of prominence, as every brush stroke on their well-aged canvases are lovingly illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight from the magnificent cascading Austrian crystal chandelier overhead. The lavish landscapes and poignant portraits are rare and priceless. Indeed an art collector's dream.
There are also elegantly ornate furnishings serving a practical purpose as well as an aesthetically pleasing one. Strategically placed throughout the first level of the cave, the overstuffed couches and chairs are swathed with finest textured upholstery. Deceptively stylish and chic in appearance, the furniture has also been designed for comfort and relaxation.
Off to the far right, slightly elevated on a smooth platform of rock, is the dining area complete with an immense hand-carved mahogany table and throne-like chairs that can comfortably seat up to sixteen dinner guests, should the occasion ever arise. In the wake of the table is the arched doorway to the sprawling kitchen. Equipped with every modern appliance and cooking utensil known in the culinary arts, it is a chef's paradise.
And beyond that, chiseled right out of the craggy red stone, is a spiraling staircase leading up to the luxuriously decorated boudoir and Roman- style bath.
If one were to enter the expansive room, it would immediately become apparent that the king-sized four poster bed, carved out of the same mahogany as the dining table, is the centerpiece of this particular chamber. Adorned with its many fluffy pillows and lavish bedding of leopard-print satin sheets and a brimful down comforter of sumptuous gold and brown fabric, the extravagant bed could garner the envy the Queen of Sheba herself.
Shelia breaths a long sigh of relief as her weary eyes drink in the sights of this hidden oasis. Glad to finally be home, she carefully brings her vehicle to a complete stop on a large rotating circular pad. Gingerly, after allowing the powerful car's engine die down, she exits the Jaguar removing her dark sunglasses in the process.
Almost immediately her auditory senses are caressed by the dulcet tones of a familiar violin concerto. The soothing resonance of strings filters through the state-of-art sound system and reverberate off the cave walls. Shelia smiles as the music of Sebastian Bach heralds her unexpected homecoming.
Well, the sentimental old sod has missed me, she muses with a confident little smirk.
The male occupant of this fortress of earth and rock only plays his Bach CD when he cannot continue to endure Sheila's extended absences. Of course, his overblown ego would never admit to such maudlin behavior, but she knows better.
It has been far too long since my last visit. Dr. Darkoh silently acknowledges this fact as she gracefully slinks towards the opulence of the living area.
After placing her Louis Vuitton purse and car keys on a round marble-topped table, Shelia kicks off her stiletto heeled pumps. Gracefully she steps away from her discarded footwear, and sighs deeply. Wriggling her toes into the plush carpet below her, she can feel the circulation of blood slowly return to her aching feet. It has indeed been a long day and she is relieved to be rid of the stylish but impractical red Prada shoes that have unmercifully been crushing her feet.
It still amazes me what we women will endure for the sake of fashion, she muses to herself.
Struck with realization that her throat is terribly parched, Shelia knows of only one way to quench her thirst.
Her mind immediately conjures up an image of her favorite refreshment.
A Seagram's and tonic would hit the spot right about now.
Slowly, a sly grin spreads over her plump lips as she silently walks over to the fully stocked bar to fix herself a drink. However, the sight a tall, frosted glass containing the very concoction she is craving stops her dead in her tracks.
He knows I'm home. Shelia's smile broadens.
The certainty that her paramour is already aware of her presence makes her want something more than just a cocktail. Instinctively her supple body hungers for his touch. Thoughts of being consumed within the flames of his intense, fiery passion makes her body quiver.
But first let's see about that drink…
Shelia reaches out to pick up the glass, but when she feels the weight of two manly arms capture her trim waist from behind, the gin and tonic is all but forgotten.
Groaning deep in her throat, her eyelids flutter closed. Her nostrils flare as a very male musky fragrance seduces her olfactory senses. Soon she is purring as warm, wet kisses are placed on her neck and shoulders. Lifting her right arm, she wraps it around her lover's head, as her fingers sink into the thickness of his midnight black mane. Gently, she cradles him as he continues to lavish his affections on her.
Feeling a kiss on the shell of her ear, Sheila hears the deep rich baritone of her lover's voice whisper hotly, "Welcome home my pet. I've missed you."
Wanting a proper homecoming, she lowers her arm then twists her body completely around to face the man she desires. Swiftly, she encircles his neck within her hungry embrace. Desperately, her wide, full lips instantly crush his. Her mouth devours his with a need that will not be sated until they are both spent from their lustful exertions. Plunging her long pink tongue into his waiting mouth, she conveys the urgency of her lust.
Moaning with equal ardor, the man's own tongue begins to glide right alongside Sheila's creating delicious friction. Then with large strong hands, he presses her body hard against his. Shelia whimpers when she feels the rock hard confirmation of his desire rubbing against her thigh.
Not wanting to waste anymore precious time, he disengages his mouth from hers, and then deftly scoops Sheila into his arms. Like a man with a mission, he proceeds to climb the spiral staircase that leads to their boudoir, taking two steps at a time.
Upon seeing his zealous state, Sheila chuckles throatily, then says eagerly, "I've missed too, William."
End Chapter Six