The Comanche Vampire (4 page)

Her
question startled him because most
taibo
couldn’t
tell one tribe from another. Ned could usually sometimes differentiate someone
of Irish descent from Dutch or German.
  
“Yes, I am.”

“I
thought so.
 
You have a Comanche look
about you. My thesis was on Quanah Parker and the
Quohada
.”

Ned
looked down at his uniform and shook his head.
 
His black denim, the white dress shirt, tie, and nametag little
resembled what he’d worn as a free man. “If you mean I look like a casino
Comanche, maybe so.”

Anne
laughed. “I don’t mean what you’re wearing.
 
It’s your features and your hair.
 
You seem so familiar, but I know I haven’t seen you before.
 
I’m sure I would remember.”

So
would Ned.
 
“I imagine so.
 
Well, I need to get back to work, so be
careful and drive safely.”

“I
will. I’m sure I’ll see you again, Ned.
 
I plan to come back.”

“Oh,
I’ll be around.” If he didn’t leave now, he’d yield to temptation.
 
He might stroke her hair or lean into the car
to kiss her.
 
If his lips touched hers,
he might lose control and the idea shamed him.
 
A warrior should rein in all desires but he hadn’t been one in almost a
hundred and forty years, so maybe he expected too much. “See you around.”

He
waved and removed himself.
 
And he didn’t
look back to see if she watched him.
 
Ned
didn’t dare.

Chapter Two

The
encounter with a woman rattled him.
 
Ned
thought he could put her out of his head, leave any thought of her at the
casino and go.
 
Instead, he swore he
could smell her fragrance as he drove home.
 
He didn’t stop anywhere on the way although he sometimes did.
 
Ned forgot to look up into the sky the way he
normally did or watch dawn shift the darkness.
 
He didn’t take a drive through the wildlife preserve to see if he could
locate the buffalo herd and remained so distracted, he came close to hitting a
doe when she bolted out in front of him.
 
He braked in time and drove slower along his driveway.

Ned
required very little sleep so he wasn’t in a rush to rest.
 
Nor did he have much to do at home.
 
He kept his small home immaculate and had
little furniture.
 
Since eating was more
hobby than necessity, there wasn’t any reason to make a meal.
 
After changing from his uniform to faded
jeans and a Western shirt, Ned smoked. If the day hadn’t been warm, he might’ve
made a fire in the stone fireplace he once built by hand.

Anne
filled his thoughts and he didn’t want her there. The day loomed long so he
decided he’d ride. Ned stalked out to the corral and small barn beyond the
house. He whistled to his ponies and they galloped up to him. He owned three
horses, two paint stallions and one bay gelding. If he possessed any remaining
passions, horses represented them. He led his favorite,
Taabe
or Sun, named for the mark
on its forehead, which reminded Ned of a rising sun.
 

On
impulse Ned stripped away his shirt and unbound his hair. Then he swung up onto
Taabe
’s
back and used his feet to propel the horse into a gallop. When the stallion
bolted, Ned screeched out a Comanche war cry and bent low over the animal.
 
Exhilaration charged through his body.
 
The combined thrill of speed, the familiar
feel of a horse beneath him, the wind in his hair cleared the cobwebs from his
mind.
 
Riding brought his weary soul to
life more than anything and although it wasn’t permitted, Ned rode across the
preserve with abandon.
 

He
smelled the buffalo herd and although he risked being caught, he rode his horse
among the animals.
 
Ned gloried in the
experience and wished he could hunt, though one man against such a large beast
would be a near-impossible feat. Although he savored the experience, it lacked enough
wildness.
 
This herd acted tame as
cattle, accustomed to frequent visitors and vehicles. Still, Ned rode hard
until both he and the stallion were winded.
 
Then they meandered back along little known trails home. He enjoyed the
feel of the sunshine beating down on his bare skin even though he knew he’d
look frightful if he encountered anyone. Although contrary to popular belief,
sunlight didn’t destroy vampires Ned had found it made him weak. He’d learned
to combat the after-effects as much as a man could.

Sweat-soaked,
Ned didn’t bother to put his shirt on. He tended to the horse and then headed
inside for a long shower. Afterward, he remained nude and lounged around the
house. He listened to music for a long time and then, bored and still unwilling
to let Anne creep back into his thoughts, he slept, which was something he
seldom did. Now, though, he needed restoration from hours spent in the sun. He
woke around five in the evening, almost time to head to work, and decided he’d
call in sick.
 

Ned
didn’t remember calling in since he came to work at the casino, and doubted
he’d used the ruse since the mid-1950’s.
 

All
four walls closed in on him so he didn’t stay home. Ned drove into Lawton, but
he didn’t stop for a meal nor visit any of the many bars, although he sometimes
did when seeking blood. He drove past the university where Anne taught and saw
it with a new interest. He’d never paid much attention before. As a wild
Comanche in the 19
^th
century,
Pea’hocso
grew up without a white man’s education. He taught himself rudimentary reading
and writing later, after he became a creature of night who survived on blood.
Once he caught the knack, Ned decided he liked reading and learning.

Arithmetic,
what everyone called
math
now, had come
easily to him.
 
Ned could and did pass as
an average man with a basic education. No one questioned it but looking over
the buildings of the campus, Ned wondered how ignorant he might be.
 

History
he knew, because he’d lived through a large portion of it and could hold his
own. But other subjects would reveal his lack of knowledge. The gap in their
levels of education represented one more reason why he and Anne needed to
maintain distance.
 
Compared to his
reality as a vampire, it might be small, but it was also valid.

Anne
Delahanty
couldn’t
be part of his existence. Ned knew it but the strength of his sadness and
regret surprised him.
Until now he hadn’t
wanted any woman the way he desired this one, not since his wife.
 

Perplexed and yet intrigued, Ned resisted any
further interaction. He could stay longer in Lawton but he didn’t. Sometimes he
hated the clutter and clatter of 21
^st
century life. When he recalled
the wide-open spaces of his people’s country, the traffic lights, the fast food
places, the noise and the number of people made him want to vomit. Although
he’d adjusted from necessity and could go without thinking of the many changes
from his past to the present, Ned had moments when it crashed over his head
with force. He’d lived with the increasing technology as it came, one thing at
a time, but times like now he yearned for the simplicity of another era.

Ned headed home, quelling the urge to drive as fast
as he’d ridden earlier.
 
Even in his
rural setting, he mourned the loss of absolute darkness and loathed the paved
road.
 
He didn’t like the ugliness of the
utility poles bringing wire over distances, even though he actually enjoyed
some of the modern comforts. Once he arrived he changed into a worn pair of
buckskins and headed deep into his property.

Along the winding waters of Medicine Creek, he kept
a traditional lodge. Ned went there and built a fire. He sat alone in the
night, shielded from most of the modern world, and purged Anne from his mind.

The task wasn’t an easy one. The red-haired woman
returned to his thoughts and Ned forced himself to go over all the reasons why
anything further was impossible. If the fact he happened to be an undead
vampire, an old soul trapped within a virile young man’s body while Anne lived,
fully human, wasn’t enough, he considered the differences.
 
She might teach history, but he’d lived it.

As
Pea’hocso
he’d raided
and killed with blood lust. Like any Comanche warrior from the 19
^th
century, he had raped and looted with abandon.
 
Unlike most of the others, however, he’d taken care and time with the
women.
 
Their shrieks, their
terror-filled eyes bothered
Pea’hocso
so he’d been
slow, even gentle as he ravished them.
 
He’d brought a few back to the village as captives and if his wife
hadn’t been crazy jealous he might’ve kept one around, made her a second wife.
 
Ned doubted Anne would understand the killing
or the rape or the concept of more than one wife.
 
No matter how much she’d studied the Comanche
or Native Americans, the truth would pack a hard punch through Anne’s reality.

 
Once, he’d
hated all whites but his emotions tempered over time.
 
Ned learned a few hard lessons along the way
and understood now what he hadn’t then.
 
Under the skin, the
taibo
were people too.
 
Their ways were different but beyond all else, they lived, they laughed,
they shit, they fucked, and loved.
 
Whites grieved their dead, loved and spoiled their children, and could
be both good and evil.
 

 
He and Anne
were old and young, Comanche and white, educated and ignorant, cultured and
wild.
 
Too many extremes lay between them
and even if they could come together, which would be nothing short of a
miracle, the truth still remained.
 
Blood
flowed through her veins and her heart beat with life. He existed, dead but
sustained through drinking blood. Should they manage to reconcile everything
else, the fact he’d been a vampire since 1875 would put a swift end to anything
between them.
 
With two worlds, two diverse
times and too extreme beliefs, human and night creature could never meet and
become one.

Ned accepted it as much as he could. Through the
long night, punctuated with the sound of distant coyotes howling at a full
moon, beneath the timeless stars, he stared into the fire and surrendered any
hope of Anne. By dawn, he felt better. He could think and function without her
image filling his head, her scent entering his nose. Maybe she’d witched him,
but maybe he’d broken whatever enchantment might have been conjured.

When evening came Ned reported to work at the
casino and reclaimed his place.
 
The
moment he walked into the smoky interior, moved among the people, and stood at
the tables, he became Ned Big Eagle.
Pea’hocso
retreated into memories and Ned existed in this time.
 

Gary greeted him, asked after his health and Ned
lied. “I had the screaming shits,” he told his buddy. “Must’ve been something I
ate, but I’m good now.”

“All right!” Gary grinned and slapped Ned’s palm in
a high-five. “So we’re still on for the powwow tomorrow night?”

Damn.
 
He’d
almost forgotten, but nodded. “Yeah, sure, we are.”

He’d endure it, and pretend to enjoy it. At dinner
break, Ned treated himself to a rare, tender steak. He savored the taste and
thought if it’d been buffalo, it’d be perfect.
 

A few times he caught himself watching the crowds
for a glimpse of Anne, but she never appeared. Maybe she’d done some thinking
too, and realized the college professor and the dealer had no future. He hoped
she had so he wouldn’t bear the burden alone for killing what could have been.

The hours passed slowly despite the Friday crowds.
Once Ned caught a whiff of a similar perfume but with his heightened senses,
classic in vampire lore, he knew it wasn’t Anne. Every human possessed an
individual scent and no matter how much cologne or perfume masked it, once he’d
smelled it, he knew it. For a Comanche hunter, it wasn’t so much of a stretch
or skill.
 

 
Accustomed
to being alone, Ned found himself lonely.
 
His shift loomed empty and when he headed home he wandered aimlessly
through the house. After tending the horses, he rejected riding and tried to
fill the hours until Gary would arrive.
 

He passed the time but with no real purpose and
although he lacked enthusiasm for the powwow, Ned perked up when he heard Gary’s
truck rattle down the drive, weary of boredom.
 
He gathered up a long-sleeved shirt, well aware it might grow cooler by
morning, then tucked smokes and wallet into his pockets. By the time Gary
tooted the horn, Ned was halfway through the front door. A different place
might be what he needed to shake his thoughts away from Anne.