The Comanche Vampire

by The Comanche Vampire [Evernight] (mobi)

“You did.” Her voice carried less heat but her tone wasn’t happy. “I still don’t know what to think. Maybe you weren’t kissing her. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because I don’t want to ruin New Year’s Eve. How long’s your break?”

  “Ten, fifteen minutes, tops. I’m late now.” Ned offered Anne his hand and after a brief hesitation, she took it. A sigh escaped her tight lips and she walked back inside. Ned stopped before he reached the card area and kissed her, swift and deep. “I’ll see you about a quarter to twelve, you hear?”

  Anne nodded. She caressed his cheek, then cupped it. “All right,” she told him. “I’ll meet you here but I’m still not very happy.”

  He dealt poker for the next few hours, five-card draw, five-card stud, and Texas Hold ‘Em. As he shuffled and slapped down cards on the tables, Ned remained aware of Anne’s location and her presence. Judging by her expression, anger flirted around the edges of her consciousness but she wanted to believe him. His spirits lifted at the idea. By eleven forty-five, the crowds thickened. Ned noticed many of the patrons hovered around the bar and others sat tight on their stools but they weren’t playing. He shut down his table and made his way to Anne. She moved through the throngs toward him and he caught her by the hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go outside.”

  “What?” she shouted over the noise.

  Ned repeated himself and added, “I know it’s cold but I’d rather greet the New Year together without so much company.”

  She nodded and he led her toward the front exit. They emerged into the chill darkness but the sleet had stopped. Frost and a thin layer of ice coated every surface he saw but above, the thick clouds parted to reveal an almost full moon. The silver tinged light filtered down and lit everything with a beautiful radiance. Anne’s breath puffed white and she shivered so he put an arm around her bare shoulders. “Still mad at me?” he asked.

  She dredged a sigh up from the depths and shook her head. “I should be,” she said. “But I’m not. I decided to believe you since it’s never happened before. Or, not that I’m aware of and I’d rather not start out the coming year with anger or something negative between us because we have enough to deal with as it is.”

  “You mean that I’m a vampire.” He’d never been one to make resolutions but if he did, Ned determined his would be sticking to the truth. He wasn’t going to pussyfoot around it any longer.

  Anne leaned into him and nodded. “Yes, I do. I’m trying, Ned, to understand and to be open-minded, to accept if necessary but it’s a struggle.”

  Ned touched his lips to the soft nape of her neck and kissed, keeping his fangs back with effort. “I’m glad you’re making it,” he told her. “It means a lot, Anne.”

  Before he could gather his assorted thoughts and turn them into additional words, a cheer echoed inside the casino, loud and powerful enough to be heard. Many voices chanted together as they counted down the last seconds of the year: ten, nine, eight, seven... “Ring out the old, ring in the new,” Anne said as she whirled to face him. “Kiss me, Ned, on the stroke of midnight.”

  He didn’t need any prompting. Ned wrapped his arms around her and lowered his lips onto hers. At the same moment a chorus of, ‘Happy New Year’s!’ roared within, he feasted on her mouth. Ned worked his lips across hers in a hungry kiss. Her mouth yielded to his, warm and pliant. He tasted her lipstick and the lingering flavor of the drink she’d had. Ned inhaled Anne’s fragrance, her perfume along with her natural aroma, a heady combination of woman, skin, shampoo, and soap. Her pulse beat resonated through him.

  Power rippled between them, strengthened with love. If possible, Ned would’ve taken her right there, but he didn’t and couldn’t. So he savored Anne’s kiss and her presence. When they broke apart, Anne touched his mouth, then caressed his cheek. “Happy New Year, Ned,” she said. “I hope it’s the best ever for us.”

  “Me, too.” A year ago, he didn’t even know she existed. It’d just been the start of one more season among more than a hundred, another year he’d expected to be the same as all those before. Time hadn’t mattered, but now it did. Ned couldn’t shake the feeling he was living on borrowed time. Anne’s offer to stay until her semester began had pleased him, but he hadn’t seen any progress. There was no doubt she loved him but she didn’t believe him and he doubted she ever would.

  All he could do now was wait and hope, but he found himself short on patience and low on hope. Ned tried to enjoy the time he had left with Anne, but unless something changed, he knew she’d go and it would take all the light, the joy from his existence. He’d return to the endless cycle of days and nights, loneliness and blood, without end.

  Maybe, he thought, he was wrong and it would be different.

  Maybe.

  Chapter Fifteen

  On the last weekend before Anne’s classes would begin, Ned decided to do something he’d wanted to share with her but hadn’t. Although they remained in harmony and their sex continued to be fantastic, they’d made no progress toward Anne’s acceptance of his reality. Ned talked about it or tried, but she wasn’t listening because she didn’t want to hear it. He told her when he went out for blood and she nodded, but said nothing.

  They lay in bed, limbs twined together after a beautiful night of sleep and lovemaking, as dawn broke over the horizon Sunday morning.

  “Honey,” he said and she stirred. “What is it?” Ned trailed his fingers over her body, from the softness of her shoulders down to her lean, long legs. Damn, he loved her. “I thought we’d go out among the buffalo today,” he said. “Like a hunt but I’m not going to take a kill. I’ll show you the way it was done, back then, when I was Pea’hocso.”

  Her eyes lit with interest and he knew he had her. She’d go with him. Anticipation rippled through Ned with the sweetness of springtime. “I’d like that,” she said. “But is it dangerous?”

  It was but he shook his head. “It’s not so much. As long as we don’t spook the herd or get a bull mad, we’ll be fine. I’d like you to see it before.”

  Anne’s expression shifted. “Before what?”

  Before you walk out of my life… but he didn’t say the words aloud. “I don’t know, before we get another snow or you get busy with classes or something.”

  She rolled over and smiled. “Okay, so when are we going?”

  Outside, rare January sunshine lit the barren winter landscape despite the cold temperatures. “Today,” Ned told her. “Let’s get up. The earlier we go, the better.”

  After sharing a pot of coffee, toast and sausage, they set out, Anne in jeans, one of Ned’s long-sleeved flannel shirts, and a coat with a hood. Ned wore what Anne liked to call his “Comanche outfit”: deerskin leggings, breechclout, feather in his hair and a bright blanket over his otherwise bare torso. She glanced at him and grinned. “I like it, but won’t you freeze?”

  Ned shook his head. “I never did before.” Anne quirked her lips into a bow with apparent disdain or disbelief and sighed. “How often do you hunt buffalo?”

  He hesitated, deciding how to answer. Once, hunting buffalo meant the difference between feast and famine. Later, Ned did it because he could and to take the meat or hides. He’d never killed for sport alone and wouldn’t. Walking out among the herd had risks but he took them for the experience, the nostalgia and the way doing so made him feel whole if only for a short span. “Once or twice a year, lately,” he told her. “I’ve never taken anyone else until now.”

  Her smile emerged. “Then I’m glad you asked me,” she said. “Let’s go. Are we riding the horses?”

  “No,” he said. She’d studied enough Comanche history she should know better than that. “The ponies will spook the herd. We’ll drive to the edge of the Wildlife Refuge and park, then walk the rest of the way.”

  Early on Sunday, there was little traffic and when they reached the edge of the refuge, Ned parked the truck not far off the road. He cinched on one of his knives, a wicked, sharp blade and turned to Anne. “Would you want
to carry the shotgun?” he asked. He knew she could shoot although she seldom did.

  She nodded. “I will if you’d like me to, but why?”

  Ned shrugged. “It’ll be handy if anything gets out of hand. I doubt we’ll need it but I’d feel better if you’ll tote it along.”

  Anne nodded so he removed the gun from behind the seat and handed it to her. “It’s got one shell chambered,” he warned. “But you’d have to cock it before you can fire it.”

  “Okay.”

  Ned studied her. He longed to kiss her but his mind was on the hunt, on stalking the animals, so he didn’t. If he’d truly wanted to do it the old way, he wouldn’t have brought Anne along but he wanted to share the experience and make a memory to savor, something to succor him as much as possible if his life returned to emptiness. “Let’s go,” he told her.

  They set out in tandem, but Ned motioned her to follow once they advanced the first twenty feet into the grasslands. Despite the chill, he enjoyed the wind rippling the tall grass and the sense of purpose. Although he didn’t see a single buffalo, Ned inhaled hard. He caught their scent on the light breeze and he knew he’d be able to find them. He wouldn’t be tracking by smell alone. His inner senses resonated and he could see the animals, the herd grazing as one with his mind, not with his eyes. “They’re a little northwest of here,” he told Anne. “C’mon.”

  She raised her hand to shield her eyes against the wind. “How far?”

  “Half a mile, maybe more.”

  Clouds scudded in from the west, thick and heavy. As they advanced, patterns of light and dark played over the open land but within minutes, the sun vanished behind their bulk. Temperatures began to drop and Ned, despite his hardened warrior’s skin, shivered a little. By the time they reached the herd light sleet fell and made the ground slippery underfoot. Ned slowed his step and indicated with silent gestures Anne should do the same. She took the hint and halted behind him. Her soft gasp of wonder matched the way he felt every time he saw tasiwoo grazing free in their native habitat. He’d existed long enough to have watched the animals become almost extinct and to see them return to the prairies again.

  “Oh, Ned,” she breathed. “They’re spectacular up close. What now?”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “We get as close as we can but be careful. If we spook them, they’ll scatter and run. And if I tell you to get back, do it. You could get trampled or gored, which would be worse. Both can be fatal.”

  Anne’s response surprised him. He’d expected a frown but she smiled with eyes bright with eager anticipation. She wore an expression he knew all too well, a devil-may-care, reckless look. Ned remembered it from the faces of warriors heading into battle or hunters moving in for the kill. He’d often known the same intoxication, drunk on danger. “But it’s exciting, too.”

  She’d never seen someone you called friend or brother bleeding out into the grass or watched them die in agony. Ned had, but he excused her. Anne’s era lacked the violence, the sudden death, or the trauma his had possessed. Accidents, death, gore all happened but not with the same frequency. “Not really,” he said. “It’s the hunt, not the chance of death. We can go a little closer if you’re quiet.”

  They crept in tandem toward the massive animals, their brown coats heavy for winter. Their rank animal scent filled his nose, so familiar, it evoked memories. Ned watched the animals…the huge bull, less than ten feet away. Cows grazed and he spotted several yearling calves, recognizable by their smaller size and lighter coats. A few fall calves wandered among the buffalo too. He advanced with slow steps, Anne at his side and stopped. Any closer would be folly.

  “Look at the smaller ones,” Anne cried. “Aren’t they cute?”

  Ned put one finger to his lips. “Hush.”

  “The adults are so huge,” she said. “Wow. They stand head high on me, I think. Look at those tails.” She pointed but he’d already seen the way their tails twitched as they grazed or walked. At the sound of her voice, some of the animals shifted with agitation.

  Farther out, a few buffalo began moving. Ned knew the herd would follow within moments. “Step back,” he told her in a low but non-nonsense voice. “And be quiet or they may stampede.”

  She dropped her voice down but kept talking. “Are they as soft as the robes?”

  “Anne,” he said in warning. If she didn’t stop, he’d have to carry her back the way they’d come. At any moment, the herd could bolt and they could turn toward them. He’d rather not dodge running buffalo. “Let’s back up a little.”

  As he spoke, one of the yearlings wandered in their direction. A smaller one trailed after it and bawled loud. Anne smiled and stepped forward instead of retreating. “Oh, isn’t it sweet?” she gushed. “I’ve never been so close to buffalo before. I’ve seen them, of course, but not like this, out among them. Can I touch it?”

  “Hell, no, you can’t.” Ned reached to grab her before Anne moved any closer, but she moved out of reach, hand outstretched toward the young buffalo. The wind shifted and Ned watched the yearling catch their scent. It bolted back toward the herd, now on the move, but the younger calf didn’t know any better. Instead, it stood still with apparent confusion and bawled again.

  Anne bolted toward it and petted the top of its head. She giggled. “It is soft, Ned.”

  He heard the cow coming, the hooves pounding hard over the half frozen earth and turned toward it. It ran toward Anne, nostrils steaming and lowered its head.

  Anne screamed and the calf ran, but the cow would attack her within moments. Ned leapt forward and shoved her out of the way. His super-human strength served him better than he’d expected. Anne landed five or six feet away and sat up. She wasn’t laughing now. Her face turned into a mask of horror and she screamed. “Ned, Ned, it’s coming. Hurry! Get out of the way.”

  If he’d had time, he might’ve made it, but as he heard Anne’s outcry Ned stared into the deep, dark eyes of the enraged mother buffalo. Beneath his feet the ground trembled and although he turned, made an effort to avoid the creature, the buffalo tossed her mighty head and gored him with one horn. Burning pain seared through his gut and blood gushed from the tear. The cow tossed him several feet then moved in for another slash. Until he heard the shotgun blast, Ned had forgotten Anne carried it and at the sound the buffalo turned away from him.

  Ned hurt too much to watch it go toward the calf. He sprawled on the earth. The copper-tinged scent of blood reeked and when he managed to lift his hand into his line of vision, he saw scarlet. His vision dimmed but he heard Anne’s frantic shrieks as she dropped down beside him.

  “Oh, my God,” she cried. “Ned, oh, God, I need to get you to the hospital. You’re bleeding so much. Hang on, please.”

  He made an effort to sit up but it came too soon and he failed. Ned groaned. If he’d been mortal, he would’ve died already. “I’ll be okay,” he grunted, the words hard to form and spit out. “Give me a few minutes.”

  Anne wept as Ned raised his head high enough to see the damage. Crimson blood oozed from his torn belly and his intestines were visible. From this angle they reminded him of tan worms or thick-bodied snakes, a thought that might’ve been amusing if he didn’t hurt so much. Ned had almost forgotten how harsh pain could be but what surprised him more was the amount of blood he leaked. He hadn’t thought he had this much volume and despite his momentary weak dizziness, he knew he’d need blood as soon as he healed.

  She moved his braid out of the puddle of blood. “Lie still,” she told him through her sobs. “I’ll see if I can get a signal and call 911. Maybe they can send a life flight helicopter. You’ll die if you don’t get help soon and it’s my fault.”

  “Honey, I’ll be fine,” he said through gritted teeth although the pain had begun to recede. “I’m immortal. I can’t die and I won’t. If you’ll calm down and wait, you’ll see. I’m starting to heal already.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re talking out of your head and no wonder. You’re badly injured. Let
me try to call.”

  She pulled out her phone from a pocket and before she could dial, Ned summoned up enough strength to pluck it from her hand. Anne stared at him, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Don’t call,” he said. “If you get someone out here, I’ll never be able to explain and they’ll think you were crazy. I feel better already.”

  Ned put his hand over the gaping wound in his gut and although it came away stained red, he thought it had grown smaller. He managed to sit up. Anne scrambled to put her arm behind his back in an effort to support him. “You shouldn’t move, Ned,” she said. “I don’t want you to die. I love you.”

  He grunted. “I love you too and I’m not dying. I can’t.”

  Anne pulled the blanket he still wore around his shoulders and folded it into a square. She pressed it against his abdomen and held him tight against her. “Of course you can, and you will if we don’t get some help. Ned, please stop talking and give me my phone.”

  With one swift motion he pitched it into the tall grasses and she shrieked. Then he locked her hand applying pressure in place so she couldn’t chase after it. “I’m cold, Anne,” he said. “Hold me tight and it’ll be fine.”

  Maybe his calm tone swayed her or perhaps she considered the possibility he might be a vampire as a reality. Or she gave up trying to save his life. Ned wasn’t sure which but Anne made no attempt to retrieve the phone and she hugged him tight. Although she still wept, she made no more pleas to him and he sat still. Although he hadn’t been injured this much since the night he became a vampire and tried to end his life, Ned thought he could feel his flesh healing, the sinews knitting back together, and the wound drawing shut. The pain diminished until it was nothing but an echo of the original agony and although he felt very weak, he never doubted he’d be fine within the hour.

  Ned lost track of how long they sat in silence. In the distance, the herd grazed as if nothing happened and the light sleet stopped. He shivered with cold when the wind gusted fierce and frigid. When he did, Anne moved until she sat behind him, her legs on either side of his body and her arms tight as they applied pressure to his belly.