Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“So, if this just affects all of the males, it’s deliberate. But why are you and I healthy?” Vero asked, his tone sharper than intended.
Fizzlewick sagged against the wall. “I started thinking. The only common denominator that males have and females do not is the Sunshine Cure. Could somebody have contaminated it?” Fizzlewick straightened, his glasses slipping down his nose. “Except you aren’t ill.”
Vero’s fists clenched at his sides. “Neither are you.”
The doctor hesitated before adjusting his glasses. “Full disclosure—I don’t take the inoculations.”
“What?” Vero frowned, a new thread of unease tightening in his chest.
Fizzlewick pushed up his glasses, his movements frenetic. “I don’t like it,” the doctor muttered. “Never have liked the sun. Don’t go into it. Don’t need to be inoculated against it.”
Interesting. “Go on.”
Fizzlewick hesitated, his brow furrowing. “If it’s the inoculations, it makes sense that I’m not ill. But you…” He pointed at Vero, his finger shaking slightly. “You’ve had the Sunshine Cure, and yet you’re fine.”
The revelation hit Vero hard. “Just Kurjans require inoculations. How easy would it be to get to the concoction?”
“Very. Why would we guard it?” Fizzlewick admitted. “But that can’t be it. I personally inoculated you last week. Some of these guys haven’t had a shot for two weeks, yet suddenly they’re all sick.”
Vero scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the two soldiers curled in the corner, groaning in agony. “Is there a pattern?”
Fizzlewick nodded and moved toward a counter cluttered with hastily scribbled notes. “Yes. The older the Kurjan, the longer it took for the illness to hit them. Remember, we started the inoculations by age? I injected the younger soldiers yesterday and the day before, and they’re already sick. But the older soldiers, who got their injections last week, are just now falling ill.” He crossed the room to a large fridge and yanked it open. “I need to run some tests.”
“Agreed,” Vero said tightly, “but we need to find out fast. Everyone’s weak. There’s no one left to defend the territory.”
Fizzlewick slammed the fridge shut and turned, his face pale but determined. “We have to figure out why you’re fine. Maybe the cure is all right and they were all infected some other way. I have new lab equipment I haven’t unpacked yet.”
“Where?” Vero demanded, his tone sharp.
“The building next door,” Fizzlewick replied, pointing out the window. “I want to use it as a dedicated lab and keep this for medical purposes. I figured, now that we’re settled, some of the mates might start having babies again. We could use the space for prenatal care.”
“One thing at a time.” Vero cut him off, his voice steely. “We need to figure out what’s happening here. Has anyone died?”
“Not yet,” Fizzlewick said grimly, “but several have slipped into comas. Kurjans don’t go into comas, Vero. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Come on, Doc. Show me the lab,” Vero said, motioning toward the door.
Fizzlewick cast one last glance at the unconscious soldiers before leading the way outside.
The biting wind stung Vero’s cheeks as they navigated the icy path, stepping over more sick soldiers who had collapsed onto the ground. The air smelled faintly of vomit and misery, and Vero’s temper simmered. Inside the new lab, he stopped short. “You’ve already started setting this up.”
Fizzlewick hustled toward a stack of boxes. “I figured we’d need it eventually.” He pointed to a sleek counter. “I requisitioned that. Pretty nice, huh?”
Vero ignored the comment, his focus on the array of equipment Fizzlewick began unpacking—microscopes, centrifuges, and instruments Vero would love to use again. “We need answers. Fast.”
Fizzlewick straightened, his expression suddenly intense. “Talk to me, Vero. Please.”
That was a fair request. He no longer had a choice. So much for keeping his secret. Vero lifted his palm, the mark faint but still visible.
“Holy shit,” Fizzlewick whispered, his jaw slackening.
“Exactly,” Vero muttered.
The doctor’s mind seemed to race as he paced the room. “You’re part demon. That’s why you were asking about the crossbreeding experiments and any remaining medical records.”
“Yes. This mark came as a hell of a surprise.” Vero didn’t like exposing his secret, but he didn’t have a choice.
“So, it’s the demon blood that has protected you,” Fizzlewick concluded. “That’s the only explanation. Whatever’s in the inoculations can harm Kurjans, but not you. That also means someone deliberately tampered with it.”
Vero’s jaw tightened. “The medical facility wasn’t exactly under lock and key. Everyone had access.”
Fizzlewick nodded. “You need to find out who. This is a targeted attack. Making the entire territory ill at once is no accident.”
“I’ll continue questioning the Defender in my cell,” Vero said. “I’ll get answers. Soon.”
“Good.” Fizzlewick turned back to his equipment. “I need your blood. I’ll analyze it and see if there’s anything in it we can use to create a defense. We need to figure out whether this is fatal or if it’ll burn out like a virus.”