Dead to Bites

Chapter One

My name is Kat Purrowells, when I was five years old, I was bitten by a vampire.

Perhaps, I should say that I believe I was bitten. I went to sleep on my Step-dad's living room floor on an egg crate mattress, and when I woke up in the morning I had two perfect circles on my collar bone. I might have easily dismissed and accounted to one of the numerous reptiles he had living with him at the time, but my sister told me that I was bitten by a vampire. Needless to say, my five year old mind adsorbed this information and it stuck with me ever since.

I am an occult cultural anthropologist. Basically that is just a fancy way of saying that I like to study the oddball cultures. Can you guess what my flavor of choice is? You got it, vampires.

Now, I am sure that you're thinking that there is no such thing as vampires, let alone their culture. But you would be sadly mistaken. Vampires exist as much as anyone. All it takes is believing in something for it to be true.

It was another bumpy ass plane ride. It wasn't the first time that I was on a red-eye headed to another city. I had been to London, Atlanta, and Vegas all in the last six months. This shitty plane was headed to Burbank airport in the San Fernando Valley- a small hub of Los Angeles. I had requested that they land at Van Nuys, but apparently they wanted the official clearance.

I leaned back in the uncomfortable seat and sipped on my whiskey. I was twenty-two last summer and I was probably on my way out sooner rather than later. My end could come in the form of a plane crash from my constant travels, my drinking that helped to keep me calm up in the air, or by being attacked by some occult being that most people believed only existed in fairy tales and myths.

But I am not one of the norm, never have been. I am Kat, yes my parents named a girl that, Purrowells. I studied Anthropology going through college, my focus- the supernatural. I was a cultural anthropologist to begin with, but we all must find our calling- mine was vampires.

Burbank was being infested by a particularly mean branch of vamps. The local cops had decided it was gang activity. Nothing uncommon for the SFV. It was a place that I was familiar with from my younger days. Days when the bogey monster was under my bed and not trying to get into it. When I still believed that the click of a light could make all the bad things in the world disappear. Not that I'm saying all the beings in the world that would defined as 'monsters' are necessarily bad or evil, shit most of them aren't even mean. I've met quite a few normal people that have given me nightmares.

I bet you're wondering what a cultural anthropologist was doing chasing monsters and murders? Nothing sane and normal, I can tell you that much. After I had graduated two years early with high honors, I went and got my Master's degree. I'm a bona fide monster expert. You can say that I'm a little odd and I don't relate as well as I should to normal people. The thought of trying to work with them- that just makes me cringe, especially since I'm not what you'd call “normal,” but more on that later.

When I graduated with high honors once again with my Master's, people took notice. I had been set to start teaching paranormal anthropology at the school- I couldn't think of anything else to do with my new found expertise. Two days after I had my diploma in my hot little hand, my cell rang. Nothing odd about that, except that no one had that cell's number. The conversation went like this:

“Hello?” I crouched down and answered in a confused voice.

“Miss Purrowells?” A deep male voice responded.

“Yes?” Somehow everything came out in a question, like it was a test.

“This is Agent Black...” I snorted as he was about to continue.

“You're kidding right? Who is this? Is this Paul? How did you even get this number? It's my emergency phone.” I laughed at my phone, still not realizing what was going on.

“No, Miss Purrowells, this is Agent Samuel Black. This is not a joke. As for how we got the number, we have our ways.” He answered very coded.

My mind briefly blanked.

“Why are you calling me, Agent Black?” I was still unsure as to what the heck was going on.

“Ma'am, we need you to our headquarters to help us with a problem.” His voice told me he was uncomfortable with the topic.

“First of all, I'm not a ma'am, second, what kind of problem?” My annoyance was growing- if it was a joke it was not funny.

“Miss Purrowells, I am not at liberty to discuss any aspects of this issue. I was handed a number and told to get you on the next plane to Colorado.” He told me.

“And I am just supposed to agree to this?” The thought of getting on a plane without any information did not seem appealing.

“Miss Purrowells, there will be a car waiting for you in about an hour. It will arrive at your residence. Please have a bag packed.” He continued.

“Dude, I've not even said I was going anywhere.” I protested.

“I'm sorry, ma'am. Orders are orders. Have a nice day.” He hung up.

I remember my shock and confusion. I also remember throwing a bag quickly together and waiting outside my house like a kid waiting for Santa. It was like the Gods had decided to liven up my life. I took the chance with both feet. It was my first real leap of blind faith.

A year later I was chasing down the big bad monsters of the world. I had been brought into an elite secret group, a side of the FBI, we were called the PNI. Yes, take a minute, get it out. I know I sure as hell did. Only I was not as gracious as you are, trying to laugh behind your hand. I looked my boss in the face and blurted out, “We're a bunch of cocks!” and the giggling that followed caused many sterns looks and “blah, blah, blah, not taking this seriously...”

Since then, I've become known in every circle across the United States. The people I had studied before were now the people I worked with. My job was to infiltrate the problem areas and help to identify the threat. I never got to arrest people or anything, I just reported to people that paid me a fat check for doing what I loved- hanging out with freaks- my people.