Blood and Silver Ch. Two

Chapter Two

Salmyre

Mar arrived home at the Salmyre mansion that was all but abandoned. It was a large brick building with cathedral-like arched ceilings. It almost looked like two houses put together in an odd angle, only the small portion was mostly a garage. It was renovated ten years ago after the owners died and only recently had he bought it and set up residence in it.

After parking his car in the garage, he stepped into the entry hall. The lights were off and it was abnormally quiet. Slowly, he took his walking stick in both hands at each end and pulled. The walking stick came apart with a slight click and the two pieces faded into shimmering blades. Holding the two blades in a defensive position, he listened for a sound as he stepped forward…nothing.

Then he heard it. It was very faint, the sound of breathing. He whirled around just as a broadsword clashed with his blades. His eyes fell on a woman nearly a foot shorter than him in a flowing black trench coat. They sparred ferociously. Each blow she threw at him was met with easy blocks. Both of them fought with graceful, almost choreographed skill. Eventually, Mar found a small opening in the woman's masterful swordsmanship and he trapped her sword arm under the crook of his arm, jamming one of his blades against her throat.

He smiled. “Hello, Cass. I think you’re at a point in your swordsmanship that you could fight off a samurai and a werewolf blindfolded.”

“No one is better than you, Mar,” said Cass, smiling as they withdrew from each other, “especially with that mystical walking stick of yours.” If it weren’t for the two long scars running from her left temple down to the bottom of her neck, she would have been extremely beautiful. “You’re late,” she said as she slipped her sword back into its scabbard. She had a slight accent from growing up in Kemmerer.

Mar sighed as he placed the two blades together and once again became a walking stick with a round sapphire with an angel inside it and silver netting running down the top portion of it. “I know, Cass. Lights, please,” Cass left him. Moments later, the Salmyre mansion burst to life and Cass came back. The entry hall was massive. There was a staircase that led to the upper floor, a door that opened to a large dining room that also had a dance floor and a bar.

“I didn’t miss dinner, did I?” asked Mar hopefully.

“No, you didn’t,” replied Cass.

“What is for dinner?” asked Mar.

“I thought we’d just order a few pizzas."

“What kind?”

“Monty’s,” replied Cass.

“Ooh, good pizza,” marveled Mar.

“So how did your patrol go today?” asked Cass as she pulled back her shiny blonde hair into a ponytail.

Mar described his evening, mentioning the vampire that pretty much took the role of the "sexy high school boy with a dark secret" as Cass liked to describe it and the girl, Priscilla Snypes who was more or less an arrogant brat. He curled his lip in disgust as he told her how she asked him if vampires sparkled.

There was a long moment of silence where they exchanged glances. Then Cass cracked up. Mar laughed with her and then his face fell serious abruptly and she fell silent.

“C’mon, Mar, it’s not like you haven’t come across a ditsy chick who’s been watching too many bad romances before,” she said, still trying to suppress her giggles as she sat down on one of the chairs in the room.

“I know, maybe it’s just that this was one of the more arrogant and rude girls I’ve come across.”

“What was her name?” asked Cass.

“Priscilla Snypes,” replied Mar.

“Snypes…why does that name ring a bell?” she asked. She snapped her fingers and her laptop appeared in her lap. After opening it, she typed in the name. “Snypes…huh, they’re the richest people in town—and some of the richest people in Ohio.”

“Great,” said Mar, exasperated. “The girl I saved is not only a snobbish delinquent, but also a spoiled rich girl!”

“Why are you so upset?” asked Cass, slightly amused.

“I just wish that for once someone would thank me for saving their life,” complained Mar. He rubbed his eyes. “I had a long day; I need a drink.”

“Want me to get it for you?”

“Please,” replied Mar, clapping his hands together as if praying.

“O-positive?”

“Shot of mint,” his eyes brightened a little.

Cass left the room and came back a few minutes later with a tall glass full of dark red liquid. She handed it to Mar.

He sipped it and felt himself relax. “Thanks, sweetie,” he said.

Cass' green eyes lit up with pride. “Anything for the Sanguimagus. But I will not be your donor," she added, jokingly.

Mar chuckled and planted a kiss on top of her head. “You know, I’m thinking we could use a break. You wanna find something on Netflix?”

“Sure,” Cass replied with a shrug.

“And I think we should order the pizza now.”

"Way ahead of you; I ordered two pizzas just a few minutes before you stepped in."

The pizza arrived a few minutes later, and they watched a few television shows up in the master bedroom which Mar used while they ate. The entrance opened into the large sitting room that had four cushioned couches set in a circular pattern with a coffee table in the middle. The plasma screen television set was set against the wall between large speakers. There were multiple doorways that lead to a dining room, a bedroom with its own bathroom, and an office.

Afterwards, Cass left Mar in his rooms for the night. He lied in bed, staring up at the ceiling ponderously. Sometimes being a hero was not something that he enjoyed. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep, but it felt like he was awoken only a few minutes later by a nightmare.

He panted as rubbed his eyes.

“Another nightmare?” someone asked.

He glanced down beside him and he found a woman in a glimmering white dress. He sighed. “Hello, Tara,” he said. “Yes, another nightmare.”

“What was this one about, baby?” she asked sympathetically.

Mar smiled in spite of himself. “Funny you should ask that; it was about you.”

“What about me?” asked Tara coyly.

“You, I, and Cass sitting a dinner together laughing and gossiping…and then suddenly everything went dark and I was the only one at the table, and you with your chest covered in blood. You were telling me that I should have protected you and that I was a failure.”

Tara's beautiful blue eyes darkened with anger. “You know I don’t think that you’re a failure, and my death wasn’t your fault.”

Mar blinked away a few tears as he lied back down. “Hold my hand?”

“Marcellus, I'm a ghost; you know that you can’t touch me,” said Tara.

“I know, just…” he began, holding out his hand.

Tearfully, Tara held out her hand as well and touched Mar’s.

Mar couldn’t feel it, but just knowing that she was touching him sent his heart racing.

“So how have you been lately?” asked Tara.

Mar shrugged. “Broody; trying hard to be a hero, trying to let you go.”

Tara smiled. “How’s little Cass?”

“Little Cass is not so ‘little’ anymore,” said Mar, pridefully. “That little cowgirl from Wyoming that we saved twelve years ago has blossomed into a beautiful nineteen-year-old woman…even if she does have those scars running down her cheek; they only add to her beauty.”

“Huh, she’s practically old enough to date you,” Tara teased.

Mar cocked his head at her. “Perhaps, but I’m thinking that she sees me more as a father figure rather than a future lover. She’s doubtful at times—actually much of the time—but I have faith that one day she’ll meet a man who’ll see past her scarred face and see what a wonderful woman she is.”

"How has she developed as a witch?"

“She has developed quite extraordinarily, even for a Praecantator--she does not take too kindly to the word 'witch'--although she doesn't use her powers too much, except to hide her scars in public."

Tara nodded her understanding. Then she frowned. “What’s the matter, baby?” she asked. “You seem oddly tense.”

Mar sighed. “So you’ve noticed.”

Tara looked insulted. “‘Noticed’? Tension is etched all over your perfect face. You can tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Alright, it’s about a girl I saved this evening,” said Mar.

“What, the one who asked if vampires sparkle?” asked Tara, slightly amused.

Mar gave her a disapproving look. “Have you been eavesdropping on my conversations?”

“Guilty,” said Tara with mock-regret. “You know I asked you a similar question once. Do you remember what it was?”

Mar allowed himself to smile a little. “You asked me if Dracula was real.”

“And what was your answer?”

“You know what my answer was, Tara.”

“I do remember what your answer was,” confirmed Tara, but then she smiled temptingly.

“But the spirit of a dead woman just wants to hear you say it.”

Mar grinned. He explained that Dracula was indeed a real vampire, but he was not quite the character as described by Bram Stoker. The real Dracula was just an arrogant fool pulling a publicity stunt with the rise in Gothic literature.

“And what about the vampire hunter, Abraham Van Helsing?” asked Tara.

Mar shuddered. He did not want to think about Abraham Van Helsing. For the span of three years, he was experimented on like a lab rat trying to see the full extent of his endurance. The man had a strong enough prejudice against vampires as it was, but his abhorrence for Sanguimagi was even greater. "Please, don't make me think about that idiot."

“I’ve seen some of the Van Helsings. Vampire hunting practically runs in their family.” A look of realization came to Tara’s face. “Oh, I almost forgot. Now I remember why I came tonight.”

Mar frowned. “You didn’t come simply to say ‘hi’ and ask how I’ve been?” he asked, a little hurt.

Tara sighed apologetically. “I did, but I also came to warn you that the latest Van Helsing descendant is about to be initiated…and they know that there’s a Dhampyr-Praecantator in town.”

"Okay the term is ‘Sanguimagus’, and you know this because...?"

Tara cocked her head. "When you're a spirit watching over your loved one from heaven, you're bound to notice some of the other things going on."

Mar rolled his eyes. “Great. Let the fun begin!”