The Cowboy and the Vampire: A Very Unusual Romance (The Cowboy and the Vampire Collection Book 1)

by Clark Hays

  Tucker shoved them into his pocket and beat a quick retreat from the bank. He grabbed six hot dogs, four of them for Rex, from a corner vendor. There was no need to rush back as she’d still be in her dead sleep, but watching over her would give him more comfort than wandering aimlessly through Manhattan with six hot dogs. Plus, he wanted to make sure she fed right off the bat.

  That thought brought up a problem. Their stolen blood booty was dwindling and he knew they would have to do something soon to get more. More precisely, he would have to do something to get her more. The concept of blood had little impact on him, he’d butchered too many cows and skinned too many deer to be bothered by a little gore, but supplying her was another matter. Would he be able to do what, ultimately, he guessed he would someday have to do? Could he kill an innocent person for Lizzie?

  She was like a child now. She didn’t know anything about this new life, this new death. In order to survive, she would have to learn fast and she would definitely need some help — help, he feared, she would seek in him. Nursemaid to a baby vampire? How in the world did he get himself into these situations?

  He sat on a park bench to eat, watching the pigeons. Maybe it would be best to contact Julius after all, he thought. Maybe he could cut a deal, get Julius to teach him what to do, and he, in turn, could teach Lizzie. Then, after she was stronger, and knew which end was up, maybe she would choose to stay in the world of the vampires, or maybe she’d just come on back to LonePine.

  Either way, he guessed Julius would agree to just about anything to get his queen back, or at least, the hope of getting her back. What could be the harm, he thought? He held all the cards on this one, and Julius didn’t even have a sack of horse shit.

  It was getting on toward late afternoon by the time Tucker made it back to the vampire compound, thankful they would be safely in their coffins. He rang the doorbell to apartment 4E. Jenkins answered.

  “Hey, Jenkins. What are you doing getting the door yourself? Where are all your underlings?”

  “I was instructed to wait for you.”

  “I got a message for your boss. I want …”

  Jenkins interrupted. “Where is your dog, Mr. Tucker?”

  “Rex is with Lizzie.”

  Jenkins was deadly silent and Tucker suddenly felt uneasy.

  “And your message?” Jenkins asked.

  “Maybe I should write it down,” Tucker said. “It’s kind of important.”

  “There is no need,” Jenkins said. “Every word we say is being videotaped.”

  Tucker regained his composure and smiled for the invisible camera. Jenkins looked mildly embarrassed for him.

  “Tell your pale-faced master I’ll put in a good word for him with Lizzie, under one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  “He’s got to teach me the ways of a vampire.”

  “And you, I presume, would provide lessons for Ms. Vaughan?”

  “Pretty bright, Jenkins.”

  “At least one of us is,” Jenkins said. “I shall relay the message. And how will Master Julius contact you?”

  “I’ll come back here tomorrow, same time, same place, to find out his answer.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Tucker left the compound feeling pretty sure of himself. Better get back quick, he thought. He hailed a cab, surprised at how quickly it came to the corner. Jenkins, of course, was not at all surprised, as it had been dispatched from the garage beneath the compound.

  It was getting dark quickly now and Tucker wanted to get back to the church straight away, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

  “Hey,” he said to the cabbie, “I’ll give you an extra fifty bucks to drive like such a lunatic that no one could possibly be following us.”

  He gloated as the cab sped off, anticipating Lizzie’s surprise when he told her he had figured out a way to be her tutor in the ancient art of vampiring.

  He settled back into the seat, feeling like he was starting to get the situation under control. Now, all he wanted to do was get back before she woke up. That part of her sure hadn’t changed, he thought. Before, it was coffee and cigarettes she craved. Now, it was blood. At least, she seemed to have quit smoking, although he wondered if it mattered. Could cigarettes shorten the eternal life of the undead? Somehow he doubted it.

  The irony of love, he thought; always something to worry about.

  Back in the catacombs, he looked at the letters more closely while he waited. Sealed in linen envelopes, one was marked with what he guessed was her mother’s handwriting and said “open first.” He rattled them around. There was something in each of them. He was aching to rip the letters open, to find out everything before she woke up and use the information to somehow make it all better. Instead, he shoved the letters into his jacket pocket, took Lizzie’s cold, distant hand and nodded off.

  Within the hour, life returned and she moved.

  It was the same feeling as the night before. First, the darkness touched something in her soul, then there was motion and a dizzying descent, then a splash of being and something tickled behind her eyes until they opened. Then came an ecstatic feeling, a sense of completion and peace, and the power and mystery of the universe seemed to fill her. But this glorious sensation lasted only a minute or two, replaced, overcome, by hunger and the need for blood.

  This time, she was ready. This time, she had it under control, or at least close.

  It was like some twisted, mirror image of Christmas when, as a child, she would stay motionless in bed filled with the knowledge Santa had filled her stocking with presents. Desperate to dash into the parlor, anticipating the happiness of a new doll or violin in her hands, she fought to control her impulse to get up before the sun. She felt the same now, only it was her desire for blood she struggled to control, and the battle was in a scary and grown-up world with consequences more dire than a gentle scolding from her mother.

  As the shadows coalesced into forms and the night became visible, she looked over at Tucker. He was holding her hand while he slept. He looked dead himself. Rex’s eyes followed hers and his stump of his tail banged softly against the floor. She smiled in spite of her hunger, happy she could keep her blood-lust from destroying her two heroes.

  There was a bag of blood in Tucker’s other hand. Sweet Tucker, he kept the blood within reach. Her mind and spirit soared in anticipation. Quietly, she took the bag and ripped a hole in the tough plastic, sucking the contents down. She hoped he wouldn’t wake, suspecting he would not find this exactly a glorious moment. Watching her lust be so easily satisfied with the crimson heat might make him jealous. Or her ashamed.

  “I have the letters from your mother,” he said quietly.

  He had been awake after all, but for how long, she wondered. She wiped the blood from her mouth like a child wiping away a milk mustache. “Give them to me. Please.” She was embarrassed to the point of anger and snatched them from his hand.

  She tore open the first letter. Inside was a black and white photograph. She turned it over to read the faded words written on the back. Me and your real father. It was a picture of her mother and a man she didn’t recognize, not at first. As she stared at the picture, confused, she suddenly realized who it was — Julius.

  Her face paled as she remembered him caressing her nude body, drinking her blood and the bolt of erotic energy between them. A wave of nausea swept through her. She handed the photo to Tucker and fought to keep from retching up blood.

  “Who is it?” he asked, yet to look.

  “My mother and father, my real father, before I was born,” she whispered.

  He looked at the image and swallowed audibly. “Lizzie, that man … it’s Julius.”

  “Yes, it is.” Lizzie pulled a note, hastily written, from the envelope, then paused. “Wait, how do you know what Julius looks like?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  She looked at him expectantly.

  “Read your letters first.” Tucker felt a vag
ue sense of discomfort about his visit to Julius earlier in the day.

  Lizzie read aloud:

  Dearest Elizabeth,

  You swore to me you would not open this box unless day turned to night. If you still do not know what that means, if you have not been contacted by Julius, Elita or Lazarus, I beg of you, do not open the next letter. Leave it alone until you are an old woman facing the end. I know, dear daughter, your natural curiosity will be overwhelming, but you must trust me. Your life would be better if lived without this knowledge, and I will rest more comfortably knowing that my past actions continue to protect you. I am with you always.

  Your loving Mother

  “I guess I can safely read the next letter,” Lizzie said, ripping it open. A simple, well-worn pendant on a gold chain fell out — a crucifix with a thorny rose wound around it. The full, heavy bloom hung in the center and a crescent moon perched on the top, through which the chain passed.

  Her hands were shaking, but she felt a resolute calm, the calm that comes before the storm, the calm of impending knowledge. Once again, she read aloud:

  My darling Elizabeth,

  I am so sorry. Since you are reading this letter, you are surely tormented by the new found knowledge of your heritage. My heart is breaking for you. I tried so hard to protect you from the past, but it seems I have failed. All I can do for you now is tell you everything, absolutely everything, so you will have the power of knowledge to face what lies before you. And what lies before you is grave indeed. I wish I could be with you, and hold you as if you were a child. But you are no longer a child and it would certainly offer you little protection. But right now, comfort may be more important than protection. I hope there is someone in your life you can trust, someone who will look after you, but I guess that is too much to hope for.

  Lizzie looked at Tucker and squeezed his hand.

  Please wear this locket, and know that I am always close to your heart. It was given to me by my mother and to her by her mother, your ancestors. I only wish I could have told you about them, about the power and magic that was their lives. The moon will be your sun for the rest of your days. Always let the power of the cross guide your actions, and pray that something beautiful blooms in your heart.

  Lizzie paused from her reading and looked up at Tucker. He was staring closely at the photo, looking worried. She turned back to her mother’s words. The handwriting evoked a longing, a tenderness, and she could hear her mother’s voice in her head as she read:

  Do you remember when you were a little girl and hurt yourself ? You used to be so fascinated by your own blood. It nearly made me faint to see you suck at your cut finger, knowing what I know. Many years have passed and you are all grown up. I cannot tell you what course of action to take now, but I believe in you. Believe you can, must, make the right decisions and handle what has happened in your life. Trust in yourself.

  The Book of Revelations in the vampire bible prophesies a new savior, one who will carry the legacy of Malthus. The wording is vague, typical of the bible, but it is believed the power to create the savior will come from a descendant of the first queen. Revelations predicts that the powers will be given to a girl-child born of that noble line every seven hundred years. The world will know of her coming because she will be the only girl-child born in that generation. The father must be descended from Malthus’ firstborn male and the girl must be turned at age thirty by someone who has the power to turn. But the Savior doesn’t come into his powers, doesn’t become the reincarnation of Malthus, until one more event occurs.

  Twenty-one days from the girl-child’s turning, she will have her first period as a vampire. The blood that leaves her body that first night is where the power of the future savior lies. Whoever consumes it will have the power to turn a full-blooded Adamite into a vampire, at least according to the prophecy. If no one drinks the blood, the power will pass back into the cosmos for the next seven hundred year cycle.

  The girl-child prophesied by Revelations is you, my love.

  Julius has always believed in the literal truth of the vampire bible. I don’t know if these prophecies are true. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Julius believes them and has spent the last thousand years manipulating lives so he would be the only one capable of becoming the Savior. He will stop at nothing to have you under his control during your period. He believes he is Malthus reincarnated, and it is his fate to assume the powers soon to be manifested in you.

  As you know by now, turning can only occur for those who carry the vampire bloodline. If full Adamites can be turned, the consequences for the world will be devastating. An individual with power to turn both vampires and humans would have the power to rule, and ruin, the world. Not just humans would suffer. Not all vampires are like Julius and his people. The world needs vampires.

  Julius is your father. I mated with him because it was the only way he would agree to allow me to live my life as a human. I had no idea what he intended. He pretended to love me and, naively, I thought I loved him. I didn’t understand the significance of what I was doing. Julius systematically impregnated any woman who could carry the second girl-child. After you were conceived, I was visited by a vampire named Lazarus who explained Julius’ scheme. I did not believe him at first, did not want to believe him, but in time I learned the truth. I left with him and lived under his protection until you were born. I expected you to be a boy, like all the children born to Julius’ hundreds of consorts.

  If it is even real, the power of dual turning is dangerous and you should let it simply pass away into nothing. You, of course, must come to your own decision. Lazarus and I hoped you would simply be able to live your life as an Adamite, never having to face these decisions. And we knew if there was any hope of that, you could not be raised in the vampire world. We left Lazarus when you were three and lived quietly, supported by him, protected by him, hidden by him. The separation was very difficult for me, for I had grown to love him very deeply. It was of him that I spoke when I talked of your father when you were a child, for he is the father of your heart. I never saw him after we left.

  Lazarus is powerful, with an entire army and billions of dollars. While vampires may seem monstrous in the context of the human world, some manifest their vow to embody evil in a manner very different than Julius and his factions. You will understand this when you meet Lazarus, and you should go to him. Like Julius, he has the power to turn. Seek him out, he has sworn to see you through this if you are willing to stand up to Julius, to not give in. I wish there was some way I could have saved you from this. I tried. But now it is up to you. Good luck. And know that you are the best thing, the only good thing, I had in my life.

  I love you.

  Tears were streaming down Lizzie’s face, dripping onto the white paper, smearing the ink. She cried quietly as Tucker finished reading the last pages. He leaned over and brought her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “I don’t understand. How could she have kept so much from me?”

  “Doesn’t seem like she had much choice,” he said.

  “She should have prepared me for this,” Lizzie said.

  “She prepared you pretty damn well. You’re smart and tough as nails, and that’s more than most can say.” He held her hand tightly. “She loved you, honey. She was your mom and she just wanted to protect you best she could. She thought giving you a chance, however slim, that you might be able to live a normal life was the best way.”

  Lizzie didn’t answer, and her sad silence screamed through the catacombs and through Tucker’s heart. She handed the locket to Tucker and lifted up her hair for him to clasp it around her neck.

  She let it fall under the tattered fabric of her dress and then leaned against him. “It’s strange being back here in the church,” she said. “And odd we’re here in the church catacombs. She always told me this was the church where my father’s funeral was held. Obviously he didn’t die. He was already dead.”

  The emptiness of this statement rang in her heart
. “We used to come here every Sunday whenever we were in New York and sit in the back of the church. She never sang, or went up to pray. Just sat in the same pew and listened. No one knew her, not really. Not even Mr. Sully, and he always sat next to us every time we came here, without fail.”

  She looked around them. “My mother showed me these catacombs, told me that they were secret, that I should remember them. When I was little she used to tell me this would be a great place for hide and seek. When I got older, we still came down here from time to time, just to visit. I stopped coming altogether when I started college, although Mother attended this church until she died.”

  Tucker stretched his legs out in front of him. “Who was this Sully guy?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Some strange old man who was always at the service.”

  “What do you mean, strange?”

  “He never said a word to us though we sat next to him on and off for years. And …,” her voice trailed off, “we only came to the evening masses, well after dark.” Her eyes widened as a newfound realization began to sink in. “And Mr. Sully never got older. Even after I left for college, so that made it about twenty years we had been coming here, he looked exactly the same.”

  Lizzie paused, tempered excitement in her voice. “Tucker, I think Mr. Sully was a vampire. He must have been. He must have been connected to Lazarus.”

  “You don’t think he’s still coming, after all these years?” asked Tucker, incredulously.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Tucker’s shoulders slumped. “God, my mom would have loved you.”

  “What?” she asked, confused. “Why?”

  “She always said I needed a woman who’d make me go to church.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Lazarus lowered himself into the small pool. It was made of local materials, nothing more than a deep hole reinforced by strategically placed red sandstone from the desert, and located just outside his private quarters in his carefully maintained interior gardens.