“You have a good night, too.” Mindy’s hand dropped to pat his rear and he stiffened. His aversion to being touched stirred up the occasional speculation he might be gay, but he wasn’t. Some Native American tribes had such, but not among his people. What the Comanche of his time believed no longer mattered and Ned went his own way, mostly celibate and uninterested in what others did. While he met his own needs on rare occasions with a woman, more often he pleasured himself. As a warrior he hadn’t, saving his strength for battle but now, as a table dealer in a casino, Ned saw no harm in the act.
Before Mindy exited the card room, players showed up at Ned’s table. He dealt blackjack, three card poker, and traditional poker. Other dealers played Texas Hold ‘Em, but Ned seldom did. At break time, he headed for the Mustang Bar. One of the few buddies he’d made in recent years, Gary, sat at a table there and nibbled from a platter of buffalo wings. Ned shuddered at the name. First time he’d heard about the dish, he reacted with shock and then disdain. His friend glanced up. “Hi, want a wing?”
“No, thanks.” Gary knew he wouldn’t touch one but he always offered anyway. Part Comanche, part Kiowa, and part white, Gary’s ways were different than Ned’s. Ned often used him as a barometer to gauge current life so he could pass without attracting notice. “I ate before I came to work.”
“Figured you did,” Gary said. “Hey, are you off this weekend?”
“I’m off Saturday. Why?” Sometimes they made a fishing trip to one of the manmade lakes in the area or did a little hunting. They often fished a little in Medicine Creek out by Ned’s place or down at the Red River. Dropping a line or going hunting were two things Ned enjoyed enough to get out in broad daylight to do. Although the myths about sunshine killing vampires proved to be just that, Ned looked so pale that he seldom ventured out until dark. But he’d also learned if he wore a hat or ball cap and stayed in the shade, Gary didn’t really notice.
“There’s a powwow up at Anadarko. I’m going and I thought you might like to go.”
Ned had attended a few and seldom enjoyed them. To him, the efforts to keep the past alive with powwows had turned into some freakish version of a red man’s rodeo. He’d danced at them many times, everything from war dances before facing an enemy to the dances to bring the buffalo, because there were few places where he could. Out beneath the wide skies of his country, with people who understood and lived the old ways every day, there’d been a kind of holiness in dancing. The ancient songs and chants were handed down and were taken as serious business. Powwows, even the Comanche nation’s annual fair, were intertribal events these days. The fancy costumes, the arenas with multi-colored pennants overhead like a used car lot and announcers booming information over loud speakers lacked reverence. There were no fires, but harsh lights to illuminate the dance ground. What had been holy to Ned when he was still Pea’hocso, what he took seriously and respected the way a lot of whites did church, had turned into entertainment. Oh, he’d seen some dancers who hearkened back to the old days in their hearts, but they were few. And some of the powwow grounds were simpler, just a field and a crude dance area with rudimentary seating. Ned preferred those if he attended at all. The best were those held in private, not for public exhibition, but they were rare. Powwows weren’t bad, he thought, but they lacked the honesty he’d known, the simple balance between nature and the people. In his life, dances mattered but in this time and place, they were for fun. Still, as a Native American man, Ned was expected to view them as a person of these times, not his own. And the one thing he liked, the drum, heartbeat of the people and all things, remained constant.
“Yeah,” he said after he gathered his thoughts. “Sure.”
Gary’s face brightened. “Good. You can ride with me if you want. I’m dancing. Are you?”
“No, I won’t.” No one knew but sometimes Ned danced alone, his feet finding the steps he’d learned early, his voice echoing the words he’d known so long ago. He found a sense of rightness in his dancing, a purpose and peace the powwows lacked. The closest he’d seen to anything public with the same qualities had been up at the restored Fort Gibson once. A group of Cherokees did an impromptu stomp dance, one not regulated and listed on the Old Fort Days brochure. The dancing touched him enough he’d joined them, but it ranked as a rare experience. He might dance but never in a way he might consider mockery. Powwows weren’t bad for modern Indians but they weren’t good for Ned.
“Okay.” Disappointment tempered Gary’s voice. “Well, I’ll come by and pick you up late Saturday afternoon then.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ned replied as he stood. “Well, it’s back to work.”
As he returned to gaming, he reflected how the English words rolled from his tongue with such ease. He’d spoken the white tongue so long now he often thought in it as well, but sometimes he reverted to Comanche in his mind. His thoughts strayed through his shift, hands dealing the cards with deft skill as he drifted through his mind. Ned remembered the distant past along with recent years. He hadn’t felt so much a Comanche for a long time as he did at this moment, lost in memories. Talk of the powwow evoked things he often pushed aside and Ned forgot to ponder where he might find blood. His shift as a dealer lasted until 2:00 a.m. on weeknights, but he stayed until dawn. Ned filled a security position in the early morning hours and walked through the casino, eyes alerted to anything out of the ordinary.
He could spot the serious drunks, the ones about to puke or pass out, and he noticed potential troublemakers faster than anyone else. His psyche, long attuned to a warrior’s outlook, possessed awareness so profound it was almost psychic.
Ned passed the lines of slot machines, but saw nothing different. As the hours waned until dawn, the numbers of gamblers dropped and he decided to step outside to find a donor, when he saw her.
Her hair caught his attention. Masses of reddish-brown locks cascaded from the crown of her head past her waist in wild abandon. Some of it curled, some didn’t, but the color reminded him of the prairie. As light fell across it, he noticed the different shades, the auburn, the rich vibrant undertone of copper, the brown of tall grass in the late fall, the hint of gold the sun sometimes lent the sunset. Ned thought he’d never seen anything more lovely. An urge to stroke her hair, to run his fingers through it tempted him, but he resisted. He couldn’t look away from it, though. Her back faced him as she sat at a machine, intent on the game. She shifted and then whooped aloud as she hit a few bonus rounds. He watched as she racked up a few dollars in winnings and cashed out her ticket.
I want to see her face.
Ned stood, arms crossed, and waited. No woman had intrigued him since at least the 1920’s when he had battled an attraction to a flapper who frequented the speakeasy where he’d worked. The appeal had been pure lust, not love, and he’d kept aloof since. When he took a woman, he used his body but never let her touch his heart or soul.
This one stepped from the stool with graceful motions and turned. He had expected blue eyes, bad medicine for him, since the Romany woman’s eyes had been blue, but hers were brown. They reminded him of a mare’s eyes or those of a deer. Her heart-shaped face boasted dainty features and when she paused, he realized she’d noticed his intent stare. Those eyes swept over him and as if he could read her mind, he caught her admiration, her interest. Heat rippled between them with invisible power, and potent enough he felt it like a fever. Cold-blooded since the night he’d been turned, Ned found it remarkable. Even on the warmest summer day, he never became hot but now he burned.
Time stood still as he devoured her with his gaze. He noted the way her creamy skin appeared translucent and he realized she wore little make-up. Jeans hugged her bottom tight and accented her slender, long legs. Her bright red blouse fit as if she’d been born wearing it and Ned couldn’t help but admire her full breasts above a small waist. If he were still a man, if he lived as a human, he would’ve wanted this woman. He longed to taste her mouth, stroke her skin and fill her spaces with his firm
cock. But he ached for more and hated himself for being so weak. Ned thought he’d like to wake up to her body curled against his. He’d like to ride with her behind him on his paint pony and drink coffee with her.
He wondered who she was, what she liked, how she made a living. Ned stared at her left hand and found it bare of rings. Not that it mattered, as he knew he couldn’t have her and he’d have to turn away in a moment. He gave her a curt nod and would’ve gone, but she came near and spoke.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice flowed into his ears like the melody of a spring flowing out of rocks. He liked the pitch of it, deeper than most women. “It’s late and I wonder if you’d mind walking me to my car. I came with some colleagues but they left over an hour ago. I’m a little nervous.”
Part of the security aspect of his job involved accompanying customers to their cars so Ned had no room to refuse. He didn’t want to but he should. Instead, he nodded. “Yes, I’ll be happy to escort you out. I’m Ned, Ned Big Eagle.”
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Anne Delahanty and thank you. Are you security?”
“I’m a dealer,” he said. “But I work some security, too. Are you ready to go now?”
Anne shifted her purse strap from one shoulder to the other. “I thought I was,” she said. “But maybe not yet.”
“Just let me know when you’re ready. I’ll be around.”
She smiled. “I know. I’ll find you.”
Ned walked away from her, pacing his steps. He hustled over to one of the cigarette vending machines near the restrooms and bought a pack of Native American smokes. The aroma and flavor reminded him of ceremonial smoke back in his original life. It soothed his nerves, and they needed a calming influence. Between Anne and his growing need for blood, he required help. Outside, he sized up the almost empty parking lot. He watched a wobbling man trying to get into a pickup. Ned sprinted over and offered help. He also took a moment to sink his fangs into the man’s shoulder. He’d learned long ago it wasn’t necessary to bite the throat or even hit a major blood vessel. By the time he pulled back, he’d taken what he needed. Ned offered the man a smoke and headed back to the entrance. He finished the cigarette and went inside. He’d find Gary and ask him to walk Anne to her vehicle.
When he scanned the room, however, he didn’t see his buddy anywhere, but Anne appeared. She linked her arm through his and he inhaled her rich, sweet fragrance. Ned knew little about perfumes but he liked the scent, floral and yet mysterious.
“There you are, Ned,” she said. “I’m ready.”
Unless he wanted to be rude, he lacked options. “Okay, let’s go.”
Anne chattered all the way to her light blue Nissan sedan. By the time she crawled into the seat, she’d shared more than he should know about her life. She hailed from Texas and named a town he’d never heard of until now. It proved to be in east Texas, in the forested part of the state. As Pea’hocso he’d been through the country but hadn’t liked it. He preferred the wide-open spaces and rugged terrain of the Comancheria to the piney woods.
Anne taught American history and lectured at the local university. “I practically majored in Native American history and it’s my specialty. Are you Comanche?”
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 wit
h a new interest. He’d never paid much attention before. As a wild Comanche in the 19th 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 21st 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.
The Comanche Vampire Page 2