The Vampire Cure: A Sci-fi Vampire Romance (The Vampire Cure Series Book 1) Read online

  The Vampire Cure

  Kat Stiles

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Thank You

  The Vampire Cure 2: A New Breed Chapter 1 Sneak Peak

  The Vampire Cure Copyright © 2020 by Kat Stiles

  Book Cover by Burning Phoenix Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and did not buy it or win it in a contest by the author or authorized distributor, you are reading an illegal copy. This hurts the author and publisher. Please delete and purchase a legal copy from Kat Stiles.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  Brad the lab mouse, whom I affectionately called Big Balls, let out an annoying squeak at his latest injection. It was a serum designed to increase testosterone, the latest in hopes of finding a cure for erectile dysfunction. While observing the mouse, I browsed through the news headlines until I came across an interesting one. A novel virus scientists called DESVID-2 had mutated from vampire bats to humans in a small Latin American country. Though the reporter tried to downplay it, I was familiar with the virus as it pertained to animals. It resembled SARS but was far more contagious and potentially deadly. If left unchecked and under the right conditions, it could easily wipe out half that country.

  “Well, Big Balls, it looks like tracking your testosterone levels will have to wait.” His creepy pink eyes stared back at me, before he jumped in his wheel and started running. Like most other men in my life, he got over me fast.

  I didn’t wait to be told to research the virus—my boss John would undoubtedly assign one of the senior scientists to check it out and produce a threat report. I know that sounds important, but it was nothing more than a brief analysis of how likely the problem in question would be to pose a tangible threat to the American people. Working in a private lab had its perks, but seniority was a universal thing, and John had to deal with a lot of interesting personalities here. Myself included.

  I pulled my long brown hair back into a ponytail. Wearing it down was fun for a change, but I needed to concentrate, and having it push forward into my view made it hard to speed read. I cracked my knuckles and started searching.

  That was when the worst squeak I ever heard came from the cage. Big Balls stumbled out of the wheel and collapsed.

  I checked his vitals. No pulse.

  I sighed. As a scientist, I knew the day would come. He was a research subject, and it was inevitable that we would hit the upper threshold of testosterone his poor body could tolerate. That knowledge didn’t make the whole thing sting any less. I’d have to start testing all over with a new subject.

  But that could wait. I had a new virus to investigate.

  An hour later, I was only a little more enlightened on the topic. The information on the internet was scarce, but I did find a few papers written on the animal version of the virus. It appeared to be spread by blood in animals, with vampire bats usually the culprit. A report confirmed that the transmission to humans was via a bite by a vampire bat.

  I went down that rabbit hole, researching everything I could on vampire bats. To study it further, I would need some vampire bats and of course, the virus itself. I quickly typed up a feasibility report, to see if I could get approval to start a new project.

  I dreaded talking to John about it, if I could even talk to him. His day was filled with meetings and random calls from the president. By president, I mean the leader of the government—our lab was founded by none other than Ronald Lamp, the commander-in-chief and president of the United States. A billionaire twice over, yet he still couldn’t get tanning quite right—his skin resembled a shade of muted orange. He treated the presidency much like one of his businesses, and fully expected everyone who worked for him to do whatever he desired: no questions asked, no independent thought required. Suffice it to say, I didn’t envy my boss’ job.

  As I knocked on the door to John’s elaborate corner office, I pictured three possible outcomes: outright rejection, reassignment to someone else, or actual approval. If I could word it right, and he was distracted enough, I might have a shot at it… God knows anything had to be more interesting than turning poor unsuspecting mice into an amalgamation of everything that’s wrong with men.

  My boss waved me in, as he put his hand over the phone receiver. “Yes?”

  “Dr. Phillips, I have a new project proposal, and I need some resources,” I said, looking at the pages in my hand. “And of course, time to work on it,” I added, as I pushed my glasses farther up the bridge of my nose. I wasn’t exactly comfortable around people but asking for resources was the worst.

  His eyebrows scrunched together, which only made it look like I gave him a headache. “What… what is this—” His attention returned to his phone call, and he motioned with a finger for me to wait. From the heavy sigh he took, I knew he was speaking with the president.

  “Speaking with” was overstating it; this was clearly not a conversation. “I understand Mr. President, but—”

  A vein in his forehead appeared to bulge, and I wondered if his head would soon explode. He covered the mouthpiece and said to me, “Just leave it on my desk.”

  “But I’d like to explain—”

  “No, Mr. President, I just can’t scientifically justify the use of household chemicals to treat the flu, it’s not—”

  I couldn’t hold back a smile. President Lamp had a unique way saying the most dangerous and bizarre shit to the general public, especially in times of crisis. This flu season was the worst in a long while, and the number of people hospitalized was at an all-time high. My boss had to deal with the fallout of the president’s outrageous suggestions and was often asked to produce reports that flew in the face of known facts and usually, common sense. I took my hair out of my ponytail and combed it over, simulating the president’s hairstyle. Then I postured like him, mimicking the president’s frequent gestures during speeches.

  John clamped a hand over his mouth, struggling not to audibly laugh. He put the call on speaker, and out blared President Lamp’s impatient shouts. “I never said to inject bleach! The media is filled with vipers, they’re always giving me nasty questions, setting me up. You know this, you—”

  He switched it back off speaker. “Yes sir. I will look for some obscure study in which bleach was used and find a way to spin it.”

  John closed his eyes, a tired smile on his face. “I understand. Thank you, sir. Goodbye.” He placed the receiver back down on his desk phone and groaned. “I’d say I don’t get paid enough for this, but that, thankfully, isn’t my problem.”

  I nodded. It was the reason I took the job as well. Privately funded by the one of the world’s few billionaires meant healthy paychecks. But it was my hope as well to affect real change, researching gl
obal issues that affected millions. The irony of course, is that low testosterone does affect millions, though it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

  This virus outbreak could be big. And a cure could be even bigger. For the lab as well as for me.

  “So, this new project…” he said, while flipping through my report, “…you really think there’s something to this?”

  “I need to study it to be sure, but I believe it has the potential to spread quickly.”

  He finished his quick perusal of the report. “Part-time only, please. You can have the funding for the test subjects and to procure the virus itself, but nothing more. President Lamp is adamant about coming out with a solution for low testosterone.”

  “Did you ever wonder why that is?” I smiled a small, playful smirk.

  “I think we both know why,” he said with a laugh. “Get back to work already!”

  Letting me work on the new project part-time was more than I expected. I passed my lab assistant’s desk on the way to mine. A smaller laptop was opened, which I guessed was her personal one—the bling on the cover gave that away. There was an icon on the website that was open. It looked familiar but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before.

  Amy was upbeat as ever, her black curls bouncing to the subtle swaying of her body, no doubt in time to the music of her headphones. She noticed me and took her headphones off.

  “You seem to be in a good mood. Did he finally approve your COPD research project?”

  My father was diagnosed with COPD ten years ago, and it was the reason I became a scientist. To study it and find a cure. But I wasn’t quite ready to get rejected on that. I figured I would do my time, make a few breakthroughs, and then when I’d become invaluable, hit them with a proposal. The truth is, if that research were denied, it would break me.

  “Not quite that good. I’m going to study the new virus part time.”

  Her eyes got big. “The Latin American one?” She squeezed a foam stress toy in the shape of a cat, one of her many squishies she played with throughout the course of the day. Said it helped her think. To me, it was just one of many quirky things about her.

  “Yes, DESVID-2. You’ve heard of it?”

  “I saw the news,” she said, her expression unusually dark. “I did a paper on the flu. Viruses are scary stuff.”

  I nodded and settled down in my office chair, eager to get to work. I figured I could maybe get a couple of hours of work in before the boss kicked me out for the day. I was filling out the requisition forms, when I caught a glimpse of mocha brown skin in my peripheral vision.

  “Do you need any help?” Amy asked.

  “I’m, uh… still getting the forms filled out. Thanks.” I worked better alone, always have. Calculations had to be precise—timing, notes, even the tedious work required total accuracy to be of any use at all. Wondering whether others had my work ethic was a variable I didn’t want to take into consideration.

  “Oh okay. Well, can I help out with little Big Balls over there?” She giggled, delighted at my pet name for Brad. Then her eyes followed over to the cage. “Oh.”

  I grimaced, still annoyed by the death of the mouse.

  “I can help you setup a new test subject,” she offered.

  When it came down to it, my name was on the project. Any inaccuracies, inconsistencies or other errors would be my fault. Which I couldn’t tolerate, even for a project I didn’t care about. No drama, that was my policy when it came to other people. “I’m good, thanks.”

  Her smile faded. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  I resumed my paperwork. Though I felt a twinge of guilt at Amy’s reaction, it couldn’t be helped. I had too much work to do, to worry about other people’s feelings.

  I was able to get all the paperwork filled out, emails sent, and supplies ordered for the new project before my boss gently told me to get out. I’d spent more than a couple nights there, when I was in the middle of a study. Well, that was what I always told him anyway. The truth was, I didn’t have anything better to do. The lab had become more of a home to me than my small apartment. The only reason to go there was my other lab. A lab that was big, furry and full of boisterous energy. I could hear his bark/whine combination as I approached the door to my apartment.

  He jumped on me the second I entered, nearly knocking me down. “Thundarr! Did you miss me?” I kneeled to his level and he licked my face excitedly, his tail wagging so forcefully, it nearly knocked down the small entryway table.

  “Calm down, baby.” His excited whimpers indicated he was not only happy to see me, but needed a walk as well. I grabbed his leash and we headed for the dog park nearby. It took a few years of training to break him of the habit of barking at every stranger, but he still remained ever vigilant, growling when any men passed us.

  I wish I could say it was the reason no guys ever hit on me, but my glasses, ponytail, and general antisocial tendencies were more likely to blame. It didn’t bother me much—relationships were complicated and a time suck. Of course I missed sex, but even that took some time to become worthwhile. When I felt particularly lonely, I would grab a glass of wine and indulge in a romance novel. In those, I could escape to the mythical land of lust at first sight, where all the sex was magically phenomenal, even the first time when the couple didn’t know anything about each other. I suspended my disbelief and wondered what that would feel like, to be with someone who just knew exactly what turned you on and performed it flawlessly.

  At the dog park, I took my happy giant dog off the leash and watched him run. I suspected it was his favorite part, the very first sprint of freedom. He took a lap around the perimeter, running like a crazy dog. I smiled as I sat on one of the benches and watched him. This was my time to clear my head. Most work days left me with puzzles unsolved, and without a conscious effort to stop it, my mind would ponder it all night. My mentor professor in college taught me to let it go, to give my brain a rest. Of course, thinking of nothing is harder than it sounds…

  My forehead wrinkled as I experienced the strange sensation of being watched. I glanced around, but other than one other dog owner playing with his collie, no one was there. I turned around, peering into the bordering patch of woods behind me. The sun had set, but it wasn’t quite dark out yet, making visibility questionable.

  For a scientist, it was bizarre that I should even have these feelings, much less act on them. But the sensation didn’t relent—if someone was in fact staring at me, they hadn’t stopped. It was freaking me out.

  “Thundarr! Come on puppy!”

  The dog bounded back to me, panting. I slipped the leash on before he knew what was happening. He let out a soft whimper, turning back to look at the expanse of the park. Then he plopped his ass down on the ground.

  “We have to go,” I said, petting his head. “We can come back tomorrow.”

  I felt a sudden chill in the air, odd for springtime weather in DC. I looked around again, still feeling like I was being observed. A branch snapped in the distance, and Thundarr’s ears perked up. He instantly made it to his feet, sniffing the air.

  “It’s weird, right?” I often talked to him like he was a human, hoping one time he might answer me. He growled and practically dragged me out of the park, inching closer to the woods.

  I’d seen enough horror movies to know traipsing into the woods, at night, when you think someone may be staring at you from within them, was the worst idea ever. Even with a big dog.

  “Let’s go home, buddy,” I said, still eyeing the woods for some kind of movement, something to substantiate my fears and possible paranoia.

  The dog complied, but he kept glancing back as we walked away. What was out there?

  Chapter 2

  We made it safely back, and once inside my apartment, I engaged the deadbolt, still a little creeped out. My neighborhood wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t that great, either. I fed Thundarr, who happily chomped down the kibble in his bowl. Then I turned my attention to the frid
ge, and found the meal labeled “Thursday.” It was soup, which I wasn’t really in the mood for, but I reheated it anyway. It was easier to plan out all my meals and package them on the weekend, so I could consume the optimal nutrients every day and not have to bother with meal preparation on a work day. Did a potential boyfriend run from my apartment when he saw this? Maybe. But it was a good system, and in a world full of uncertainty, it made sense to control what I could.

  I grabbed the now hot soup and brought it to my small dining room table, where my Kindle sat upright. I can get in another chapter while I eat, I thought. I was just getting to the good “quivering member” part when my cell rang. I recognized the number and debated whether to answer it.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said after hitting the little green accept call button.

  “How’s my favorite daughter?” she said.

  “I’m your only daughter.”

  “What difference does that make? Still my favorite.”

  I smiled, her cheerful optimism breaking me down. She had a way of brightening my day and getting under my skin in the same conversation.

  “How are things at home?” I asked.

  “It’s okay. We both miss you so much!”

  I had only moved out about a month ago. It made more sense to live at home during college, since all of my undergraduate years occurred before I could drink. Having skipped five grades of elementary school, I went to college to study, not fraternize. When the grant for my doctoral degree fell through, I almost had to drop out. Now that I was twenty-three and had a job that paid well, I could afford to live on my own. But if I was being honest, I missed the cheerfulness, the history there. I missed home.