To Cure A Vampire (To Cure Series Book 1)

by Jade Farhill

  “Keep drinking.”

  Abby realised what was happening. Her sister’s prediction was coming true. The only one who would be permanently changed by this was Abby.

  She tried to stop drinking. Death was better—what if Sharon couldn’t train her well enough and Abby became a raving beast?

  What if she killed hunters intentionally instead of accidentally?

  What if she hunted humans the same way the crazy lady had?

  And what if she forgot all about creating a cure?

  But physical weakness overruled the desire to push Sharon’s bleeding wrist away.

  Fear made it difficult to breathe. Would she remember any of her life? Would she even recognise Sharon?

  Perhaps there was a way to remember something of her human life. If Abby concentrated fiercely on what had been important to her, in the moments before her death, then maybe she’d remember it.

  What did she want to bring with her into her next life?

  What it was like to be human. Sharon. The cure.

  As she continued to drink, she held onto these three thoughts like her life depended on it. The cure. Sharon. Human.

  She drank a long pull of blood. The cure.

  She swallowed more blood. Sharon.

  More blood. Human.

  Abby closed her eyes, repeating the words to herself.

  After three more long drinks, Sharon pulled her arm away and stepped back, letting Abby slide slowly down the wall.

  Crumpled on the dirty alley floor, Abby tried to stop the world from spinning. Finally, it did and her eyes settled on the figure standing above her. The figure that no longer felt like a threat. The figure with concern and panic in her blue eyes.

  Wait, Abby thought, how can they be blue? Did she break out of a blood rage?

  But Abby didn’t get answers, because everything went black.

  ***

  Abby woke up in a darkened room.

  She was lying on an old gurney. The surprising part was that nothing hurt.

  She sat up and looked around. Where was she, and where was Sharon?

  The room was filled with dusty, old equipment. And in the darkness, Abby could just make out RSBH stamped onto the side of a box.

  “RSBH? As in Royal Sunrise Beach Hospital?” she whispered, hoping she wasn’t alone and Sharon would hear her and make herself known. “So you did follow the plan?” Abby smiled slightly and shook her head.

  But only silence greeted her words.

  Abby hugged her elbows. Maybe Sharon was out getting some blood from … somewhere—hopefully a blood bank.

  Abby stood up slowly and fumbled around, looking for a light switch. When she found one, she discovered a video camera on a stand, facing the gurney.

  Odd place to be unless there was an intention behind it. “Please don’t be a sex tape,” she muttered and turned the camera on, playing the only thing on it.

  Sharon’s face popped up on the screen. Abby heaved a sigh. “Oh, thank god.”

  “It’s been—” Sharon’s voice trembled and she looked away from the camera. “It’s been two days since I—” She closed her eyes. “Since the night with the hunters and you still haven’t woken up. And you aren’t showing any sign of ever waking. I might have just put you into a coma, where you’ll be half-dead for the rest of your life—I don’t know.” She took in a deep breath. “But I can’t stay here any longer. The humans upstairs are making me hungry and even you are too. I need to leave, otherwise I’ll really kill you this time.” She looked back into the camera. “I’m sorry, Abby. I’m so sorry.”

  The video clip ended.

  Abby looked around the silent room. She was alone. She was about to turn into a vampire.

  And she’d have no training.

  The fears she’d felt when Sharon Turned her were about to come true.

  Abby started shaking—she’d end up a rabid vampire. She’d kill everyone in sight!

  “What can I do?” she whispered. “What should I do?” The idea of camping outside for the next week was tempting. That way, she’d burn in the sun instead of hurting somebody.

  But Sharon’s hair exploding in the petri dish flashed across her mind and Abby flinched. There had to be another way.

  Abby took inventory of what she had around her.

  A gurney, two lab coats, a steel table, even some steel cables—good foresight there, Sharon. There were also a few old IV stands, an ancient fridge and the video camera.

  Abby thought for a moment. She’d trained one vampire before—so perhaps she should train herself? She knew what to do, after all.

  And the video camera would be her best ally.

  She also needed blood—that much was obvious. She was in a hospital, so blood was in plentiful supply—but how did she get it?

  Abby needed a plan. “Guess I better go see if I can bribe a staff member to send blood my way.” Pulling out her wallet, she sighed. “With a … credit card. If I’m dead—or undead—what happens to my debts?” That was something for her parents to deal with.

  Abby donned a lab coat, covering her blood-splattered clothing. Then she cautiously stepped out of the room and went in search of the blood bank delivery stations. She found one three floors up, where they kept bags in fridges for emergency blood transfusions.

  “You here to dispose of the expired blood?” someone asked to her left.

  In a way. “Yes,” she said. Perhaps this would be easier than she thought.

  “This way,” the guy said in a bored tone and led her to a bin. “These are ready for the autoclave.” Autoclaves were pressurised tanks that filled with boiling water to sterilise recyclable plastics.

  As Abby was bending over the bin, she noted that all the bags were empty, and most expired next week. “They’re still in date, but they’re empty?” she asked. Was this hospital servicing another vampire? Quickly, to allay suspicion, she added. “I—sorry, I’m new in the job.”

  The guy shrugged. “The sterilising company charges by weight. It’s cheaper to dump the blood before we send it to them.”

  Cheaper and dodgier. “And the dates?”

  “It’s hospital procedure to get rid of blood that’s about to expire. We can’t give patients old blood—too much risk.”

  “But if it’s still in date—”

  He sent her a cutting look. “I’m not here to debate procedure with you. I’m just here to make sure none of the blood is contaminated. If you want to argue this, take it up with someone who cares.”

  Abby shut her mouth and turned to the bin. Where was the sink he dumped the blood into? And how could she get access to it?

  There was a sink in the corner that looked freshly cleaned. “Is this where you empty the blood into?”

  He looked over. “Uh,” he grunted. Abby interpreted this as ‘yes’.

  “How do you sterlis—”

  “It’s also not my job to give you lessons on how I run this clinic—I don’t care how new you are. Now get the bins and leave.”

  Wow, this guy was rude! Abby put on some gloves, grabbed the bag and left.

  She bumped into the actual cleaner on the way out and handed it over to them. “He’s in a foul mood,” she muttered to the cleaner.

  “Ah,” said the cleaner, his tone weary. “Yeah, he usually is. Most doctors treat us cleaners like scum, but he’s the worst of them. And I don’t even think he’s a doctor.”

  Maybe, thought Abby, she could make a few helpful contacts in this hospital. And now she knew about that sink, her brain was whirling with ideas.

  ***

  Abby tracked the pipe from the sink and discovered that it emptied into the sewerage pipe under the hospital. If only the pipe had gone through her preferred basement room, instead of two rooms over, she would have been able to siphon it off with ease.

  There had to be a way. Abby pulled out her phone and searched YouTube for videos on how to plumb a siphon into a pipe, and how to get pipes through solid walls.

  By th
e end of the day, Abby had a plan and a list of the necessary equipment. And after a great deal of searching, and a bit of destruction of outdated equipment, Abby had gathered everything she needed.

  She set up the siphon over the next day, swearing whenever the ancient power drill went off course or made too much noise. She threaded the tube through the wall, then went into her designated room and stood back, admiring her work.

  Okay, so it wasn’t great.

  The wall looked resentful, the edges of the hole splintered.

  The tube hung sadly, lifeless and limp against the wall.

  But then red fluid pushed its way down the tube, making it straighten and spray blood all over the floor.

  “Ah!” Abby shouted, trying to find something to stop the seemingly never-ending flow of blood.

  All she could find was old medical equipment; nothing that could stem the flow. So she ripped off her stolen jacket and used it to plug the tube.

  This helped, except now her jacket was ruined.

  “Later,” she muttered, and went to fetch some cleaning equipment. “It’s like a murder scene,” she grumbled, and spent the rest of the afternoon scrubbing the walls and floor.

  When she was done, she researched how to install a tap into the siphon. By the time she’d installed the tap, the room was a murder scene again. Abby leaned against the steel table. “I really should have thought this through better.”

  ***

  Once everything was set up, Abby had to figure out how best to get her future vampiric self to continue working on the cure.

  She recorded a message for herself: the cure, Sharon, humanity, hope. Her new mantra.

  Then she included instructions on how often she would need blood and how best to get blood once she was free.

  If she didn’t become a raving, rabid beast, constantly in a blood rage.

  Shivers went down her spine. How could she make sure this message would sink in?

  Perhaps it she put it on repeat? And maybe write it up on the wall?

  “Worth a shot, even if it’s technically graffiti.” Any reinforcement would help … probably.

  Abby rigged the camera with a dead man’s switch so it would play on repeat once her heart stopped beating.

  She was truly on her own now.

  She grabbed a metal bowl, turned on the tap to the siphon and chained herself to the steel table. Her thoughts on her family.

  But mostly her sister. Sharon’s cheeky grin. Sharon’s sense of humou—

  Spasms wracked Abby’s body. Pain arced across her form. Her heart pounding in her chest, then skipping a beat. Her breathing becoming laboured.

  Abby’s eyes rolled back into her head.

  But even through all this discomfort and pain, Abby held onto the one thought: Must cure Sharon—must hear her heart beat again.

  Abby’s focus drifted.

  Her heart skipped again.

  And then beat its last drum.

  CHAPTER 9

  A roaring thirst woke Abby up. She gulped, but her throat felt like sandpaper.

  There was a scent on the air.

  A scent that made her salivate.

  Blood.

  Abby looked up, her eyes followed the red liquid flowing down the tube towards her open mouth.

  It smelled so good—she parted her lips in anticipation, ignoring the video of herself talking in the background.

  Finally, the blood was at the end of the tube, and dribbled into her mouth.

  Abby closed her eyes, surrendering to the taste, allowing it to sate her thirst.

  Her heart thumped in her chest. It felt great to drink blood. Her limbs were getting stronger with every drop, her mind sharpening.

  But after three mouthfuls, something went wrong.

  The taste became too intense. The blood too rich with … something. Was the cranky pathologist dumping expired or contaminated blood down the sink?

  The blood continued to flow into her mouth. Now it was too thick!

  She turned her head and spat the offending liquid out. “He spiked it,” she muttered. She didn’t know how, but she was certain this was some kind of revenge for … questioning hi—

  Hang on. She shouldn’t be able to remember that conversation.

  A tantalising waft of blood made her drop that line of thinking. She turned her head to catch it in her mouth before she could stop herself.

  But the moment it touched her tongue, she spat it out again.

  What was going on?

  It smelled amazing, but it tasted … wrong.

  Now that she wasn’t drinking blood anymore, her heart stopped beating and her chest went disturbingly quiet.

  The instructional video continued playing. “This must be your mantra,” Human Abby said, staring sternly at the camera.

  Frustrated, Abby huffed. “The cure, Sharon, humanity, hope and blood rages can be broken.” Her words were in perfect sync with Human Abby’s on the video.

  Abby froze—now that her hunger was sated, she picked up the thought she’d abandoned earlier: How could she remember the cranky pathologist? And for that matter, how did she remember the script to the video as well?

  She looked back on her human life and realised that she could remember it all, perfectly, in technicolour. “What the hell is going on?” Shouldn’t she be unaware of her past? Shouldn’t she just assume she had woken, fully grown and hungry, in a basement and strapped to a table with steel cables?

  Blood splashed beside her ear. Her nostrils flared. Maybe she could test it one more time?

  But it still tasted too intense. She forced it down with a shudder. “If I have any more of that, I might vomit. How could you betray me, blood? This wasn’t the deal!”

  Then Abby realised she was talking to a non-sentient fluid.

  Okay, she thought, resigned. So I need to get away from the blood. Which meant she needed to release herself from the table.

  But was that really a good idea?

  The scent of blood decided her. She looked around. How could she get out of this? Electromagnets held the steel cables in place. She couldn’t escape unless she cut their power.

  There was a cable leading from the magnets to a power point in the wall. Hospitals had backup generators in cases of emergency, so Abby was certain the magnets wouldn’t fail.

  Now she cursed her past self for being so thorough.

  The blood was now flowing thick and fast, the tube taut. Abby looked at the tube and the socket in the wall. Could she short the magnets out with the blood?

  It was worth a try. She raised her head, grabbed the tube in her teeth and pointed it at the socket.

  But the moment she had it perfectly aimed, the blood flow ended.

  “What?” she grunted through the tube, glaring up at the ceiling, imagining the cranky pathologist snickering like this had been his plan all along. “Oh, come on! When I don’t want any, you give me blood. But the moment I do, you withhold it!”

  She growled and re-focused her attention—there had to be a way to make this work.

  And then, as if in apology, blood flowed down the tube again and sprayed against the socket.

  The magnets stopped working.

  The cables went slack.

  Abby slipped out of them and held her arms over her head in triumph. “Freedom!” she shouted.

  Then she surveyed the room. It looked like a massacre had taken place. She sighed and retrieved the cleaning equipment she’d left in here after the first incident with the siphon and started scrubbing, all the while thirsting for blood on the floor.

  “There shouldn’t be this discrepancy between taste and smell,” she grumbled. “Sharon never had this problem.”

  But why?

  When Abby was done cleaning, she focused on the basics of science. She’d identified the problem—now she just needed to investigate why.

  And the best way to do that was to analyse her blood.

  But how could she do that when she didn’t have the right equipment
?

  She thought about it for a moment. Hospitals regularly updated their equipment and either sold off the old—but still operational—stuff or donated it to developing nations.

  “So … I need to find the room where they store all of this old equipment and … borrow the ones being sold off.” If she was going to ‘borrow’ anything, she wouldn’t deprive developing nations of assistance. She might be a monster now, but she was a monster with principles.

  And besides, she’d return the equipment once she no longer needed it. So really, she was just delaying the sale instead of denying it.

  “Reason all I want, it still doesn’t feel moral,” she muttered, turning to the door.

  Then froze.

  She was a vampire. About to step into the world of ready access to humans.

  Could she really do this and not hurt anyone?

  CHAPTER 10

  Her senses were assaulted. There were so many different scents of blood down here.

  Her mouth watered.

  She took a moment to control herself. She was full on the contaminated blood. She probably wouldn’t be able to drink anything else, even if she tried.

  With that, she moved towards the stairs and headed up three levels. Thankfully, no one used the stairs, so her worries of bumping into someone and attacking them were unjustified.

  But when she exited on the third level, she halted her progress.

  Heart beats of varying paces filled her ears. Her eyes—without her consent—focused on the humans producing the faster beats.

  They were mainly the cleaning staff—especially after interacting with a doctor.

  It would be easy to isolate a cleaner. All she’d have to do was ask them for directions. Maybe lead them into an empty roo—

  Abby forced her mind back to her objective—she had to find the cranky pathologist. She strode quickly along the hallway, avoiding eye contact with everyone, fearing what would happen if she met their eyes.

  What if she held her breath? Maybe that would help her keep in control.

  But cutting off one sense only intensified the others. The humans’ heartbeats registered loudly in her ears—a man’s neck suddenly looked so tender, so tantalisin—