The Comanche Vampire (33 page)

He
drank all of it and then he lifted the empty cup.
 
With one swift move, he dashed it against the
wall where it shattered into shards.
 
That’s my heart, destroyed and broken.
 
Without pausing to pick up the pieces Ned
dressed and headed for Lawton.
 
He needed
blood and now.

In
town he cruised around until he found an out of the way flea market.
 
He sauntered inside, his face a mask to hide
his emotions.
 
Ned walked down the narrow
aisles until he found a lone woman who lingered at one of the unmanned
booths.
 
She raked her fingers through some
old costume jewelry and when she lifted a string of bright beads toward the
light, he slipped behind her.
 
Her
perfume filled his nose, something stronger and thicker than the light scents
Anne favored.
 
He inhaled the essence of
her shampoo, caught the smell of her lipstick.

Aware
she wasn’t alone, she began to turn around, but Ned caught her in his
arms.
 
He bent forward and kissed her
vulnerable throat, her skin burning hot beneath his cold lips.
 
He guessed she must be in her early twenties,
young enough to consider a chance encounter exciting instead of
threatening.
 
She giggled and worked her
way against his body.
 
He didn’t
hesitate.
 
Ned bit down hard into her
jugular and drank deep.
 
He wasn’t
considerate the way he’d been for decades, but rough, even brutal.
 
 
He
took more than his usual self-imposed quota and then gazed into the woman’s
blue eyes.
 
He cringed.
 
Her eye color reminded him of the woman who
made him a vampire.
 
“Thanks,” he said in
a harsh voice. “You made my day.”

“Wait,”
she said. “What’s your name? Kiss me again – I liked it and I like you.”

He
shook his head. “You’ll have one hell of a hickey, but it’s all you’ll get from
me.”

His
eyes locked on hers and he used all his willpower to make her forget as much of
the encounter as he could.
 
Then he
stalked away, as swiftly as he’d come, and went outside to the truck.
 
Although he wasn’t due at work for hours, Ned
headed for the casino.
 
He couldn’t bear
to go home and face the empty rooms, the bits and pieces of Anne left behind.
 
If he didn’t go somewhere, he’d track her
down and it would be a mistake.
 
He couldn’t
gamble where he worked so he sat in the bar.
 
Ned made little conversation and drank nothing, but black coffee.

Gary
joined him just before shift, took one glance at Ned and shook his head. “What
happened? You break up with Anne?”

Ned
shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know, but I sure as hell don’t want to talk about
it.”

His
friend hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, man, I get it.
 
I went fishing while I was off and caught a
couple of bass….” Ned didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the story but he
pretended interest.
 
Then he dealt cards
the rest of the night and filled in for another dealer half the day.
 
After work he went home and sat, staring at
the four walls.
 
He didn’t bother to eat
or drink.
 
When time came for work, he
went and so he passed a week’s worth of time, one shift after another.

He
thought of Anne often, but after a few moments of reverie, he blocked the
memories, unable to bear the pain.
 
If he
could’ve died, he would have because the pain couldn’t begin to equal what he
felt within.
 
Although Ned had spent more
than ten lonely decades and should have been accustomed to an empty existence,
lonely nights and long days, he loathed each minute, hated the hours, and
cursed his so-called life.
 
He refused to
yield to temptation and drive past her apartment or the college.
 
One day, he gathered up the things she’d left
behind, a hair brush, a pair of socks, a blouse she’d forgotten, a paperback
book, and a lipstick and put them in a box.
 
Ned shoved it into the back of his closet, out of sight, but never out
of mind.

Once
or twice he dared to hope she might come to the casino but she didn’t.
 
His co-workers talked about his return to
near silence and the ones who called him friend, including Gary, worried.
 
Ned fielded their concerned inquiries but
gave them nothing, no explanation or reason.
 
His tarnished soul, a vampire’s secondhand one, drained away all hope,
all happiness and his battered old body, occupant to an immortal, troubled him
with new aches and pains which he ignored.

He
didn’t care anymore about anything but blood.
 
Ned took it nightly, choosing a victim from among the casino
guests.
 
He never picked the same once
twice and now, for the first time in over a century, he no longer cared if
someone noticed anything odd.
 
He’d taken
what he required and not worry about anything else.
 
Ned took whoever might be handy, sometimes a
man, often a woman.
 
Twice he took a
woman’s blood and then her body, entering her with quick, sharp thrusts that failed
to relieve his desire for Anne.
 
Titillating strangers was risky, but it no longer mattered to Ned.

Almost
two weeks after Anne walked out of his house, Ned’s nights off fell on Saturday
and Sunday.
 
He failed to take any blood
after his shift ended early Friday morning, but went home anyway.
 
He brooded and did nothing.
 
On Saturday morning, he climbed on his
stallion and went for a long, punishing ride.
 
By the time he came back past noon, he lacked energy and if there’d been
anyone around to see him, Ned knew he’d look ghost pale and turd terrible. His
need for blood increased but he lacked energy to drive into town.
 
Although he could make do with pony blood, he
rejected the idea.
 
Ned never had liked
the way it tasted. So he put up the horse, fed all the ponies and watered them,
then headed for the house.
 
Maybe he’d
sleep if he could shut down his mind or fix a steak or sandwich.
 
He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten
anything or wanted food.

Once
inside, Ned collapsed onto the sofa.
 
He’d avoided his big bed since Anne’s departure.
 
It held too many memories.
 
He didn’t bother to remove his boots and he
drifted into an uneasy sleep.
 
Although
he seldom dreamed, the sound of a drum entered his consciousness, a steady
pounding.
 
Something about it was wrong,
though.
 
It lacked the depth or power of
a tribal drum.
 
This noise was more
insistent, without the right rhythm.
 
Ned
ignored it but the sound continued.
 
Somewhere
in his somnolent state he realized it sounded like knocking and he roused.
 
The knocking kept on, louder and fierce.
 
Then a voice he knew very well spoke his
name, “Ned, it’s me!”

He
scrambled up and opened the door.
 
Anne
stood there, hair a riot of curls, face paler than he remembered, and stared at
him.
 
Her smile, the one he loved, was
absent.
 
He didn’t speak, couldn’t coax
any words from his mouth.

“May
I come in?” she asked.
 
He stepped back
and let her enter.
 
Anne came to a halt
inside the front door. “Is it a bad time?”

“No,
it’s all right.”
 
He wanted to touch
her.
 
More than that, Ned longed to take
her to bed and make love to her.
 
His
loins ached and his heart
twinged
.
 
But he stood back, apart.

“I
missed you,” she told him. “I almost came over a dozen times.
 
I even thought about going to the casino to
find you.”
 

Hope
flickered but he doused it. “But you didn’t.”

“No.”
Anne crossed the few feet separating them. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to
see me, Ned.”

With
blood levels low, headache underway, body punk and spirits weak, he figured it
must be hallucination.
 
If so, it was
sweet, better than any fever dream he’d ever known and an improvement over
spirit quest visions. “I do, Anne. You’re the one who took off.
 
I figured you wouldn’t come back.”

The
lavender perfume she wore wafted into his consciousness as she stood within
inches of his chest. “I’m here.
 
And I
thought about it all and little else.
 
I
couldn’t think during my classes and I’ve been distracted.
 
I did a little research, too.
 
And I believe you.”

Relief
seared through him with the destructive speed of a forest fire. She spoke the
words he’d wanted to hear and Ned opened his arms for an embrace.
 
Anne held up one hand.

“I
want to talk, first.
 
I’ve got a lot of
questions.
 
Then I need you to hold me
tight and never let go.”

Anne
pulled a small notebook from her purse and opened it.
 
Ned sank down on the couch he’d just vacated
and she took a seat across the room.
 
Figures, he thought, a college professor would have questions and
organize them.
 
She cleared her throat.
“First, I want to know if you have fangs.” Without speaking, Ned peeled back
his upper lip and revealed them.
 
Unlike
the teeth of fictional vampires he’d seen portrayed, his were compact, small
but wicked sharp.
 
He thought Anne turned
paler when he showed her, but she gave him a nod. “Next, I want to know why you
can go out in the daylight without turning to dust or whatever.
 
And why you don’t sleep in a coffin.”

For
the first time in days, a smile stretched over Ned’s lips. “I don’t know,
honey,” he replied. “I know that’s the vampire lore, but it’s not true.
 
I wondered, too, a long time ago.
 
Sunlight doesn’t hurt or kill me, but it can
make me look pretty pale, even sick.
 
I
know you noticed.”

Anne
grinned. “Yes, I did.
 
What about the
coffin thing?”

“Beds
are a hell of a lot more comfortable.”

She
tossed back her curls and laughed.
 
“Point taken, Ned.
 
What happens
if you need blood and don’t get it right away?”

“I
feel like I do right now.” Anne peered at him and frowned. “Is that what’s
wrong? You look terrible.”

“I
feel even worse,” he admitted.
 
Ned made
no effort to gain sympathy or lie. “I haven’t had blood in a couple of days.”

His
admission brought her to his side.
 
“Tell
me how you feel and what I can do.
 
You
can have my blood if you want.”

“No,”
he roared and she stared at him, wide-eyed. “I can’t take your blood, not now.
My head hurts, my stomach’s rolling, and I hurt all over.”

Anne
placed her palm against his forehead, then his cheek.
 
“You’re hot, like you’re running a
fever.
 
It almost sounds like you’ve got
the flu.
 
What will help?”

“Blood.”

“Then
let me give you some.”
 
Anne pulled her
hair away from the left side of her throat.
 
Ned’s ears picked up the whoosh of blood through her veins and the
rhythm of her heartbeat.
 
He craved
blood, hers most of all and began to lean forward.
 
Ned caught himself and retreated.

“I’d
love to but I can’t,” he said. Somehow he didn’t think she’d like the next part
but if he had a chance to keep things good between them, he had to confess.
“I’ve taken your blood twice before, so if I do now…”

“I
become a vampire too.” Her voice emerged dry and almost choked. “That part of
the lore is true?”
 

Ned
stroked her velvet skin, his fingers gentle but body tense with desire. “It was
for me.
 
I’ve never put it into practice
because I couldn’t wish this life on someone else.”

Shock
enlarged her eyes. “You’ve never bitten the same person three times? So you
don’t really know?”

“No,
I haven’t but I’m pretty sure.
 
I’m not
going to take the chance, Anne.”

She
knelt down in front of where he sat and placed both hands on his knees. “What
if I tell you I want you to?”