“I have,” Ned said. “I don’t do the fancy dances in full regalia, though.”
“Oh and why not?”
“It’s not authentic,” he said. “It’s like a red man’s rodeo, not my thing.”
She nodded. “That’s a good description and I tend to agree, although I love watching the fancy dress competitions. I would’ve been surprised if you said you competed at that level.”
Her apparent understanding loosened his tongue. “For me, it’s about the drum, the beat and the old ways,” he told her. “The original dances in the old times weren’t done for show, but were serious business. The way the Comanche did the buffalo dances to bring the herds closer or a war dance before they went out to meet the enemy, those were about life and death. The fancy costumes are just that – costumes. The style is right, the bright colors are good but they’re too new, too perfect. In the Comanche days, they were handed down over generations.”
“Yes, they were. You seem to know a great deal,” Anne told him. “I’m impressed. Have you studied?”
“No, I’m self-taught, I guess. But I listened to the elders.” And I remember.
“You must’ve.” Anne turned her attention back to the arena and Ned noticed she tapped one foot with the beat of the drum. He wondered if she’d ever danced, anywhere. As she focused on the powwow, he studied her face. She wore little make-up and he liked the natural look of her creamy skin. Ned noticed her cheekbones were high in her face. Then he realized, despite being white with natural auburn hair, something about some of her features reminded him of his people. She said she’s from Texas. I bet there’s a Comanche great-grandma in the bunch somewhere. He wondered if Anne knew and figured she did. It was probably what sparked her interest in Indians and their culture.
He took pleasure observing her and her reactions to the dancing. Anne had what he called a glass face, which revealed what she thought and felt. The play of emotions and reactions over her pretty features pleased and intrigued him. Ned enjoyed it more than he should. Their chairs rested inches apart and more than once when Anne leaned forward for a closer glance at something, she rested her hand on his knee, brief but far from casual. He wasn’t used to such intimacy and it rattled him.
Gary’s unexpected appearance shook Ned all the more. His friend grabbed his left shoulder. “Hey, I see you’re staying busy,” Gary said with a wide grin. “I wanted to get some water before the fancy dress dance started.”
His gaze fell on the unopened bottle of water stuck in the cup holder of the chair where Anne sat. She noticed and stood up. “Oh, I’m sorry. I bet I’ve got your seat.”
“Oh, sit down, I’m not staying.” Gary grabbed the water bottle and stared at Ned with huge eyes.
Ned knew what he had to do and did. “Gary, this is Anne Delahanty, she’s a history professor out at the college in Lawton. Anne, this is my friend Gary Russell. He works at the casino, too.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Gary said with more enthusiasm than Ned thought necessary. He opened the water and chugged half of it down.
“Yes, it’s my pleasure,” Anne replied as she settled back into the chair. “I see you’re dancing.”
“Oh, yeah, I love it,” Gary said. From his smile and the way his eyes focused on Anne’s chest, Ned figured his buddy found the woman attractive too. And most of all, he hated his reaction to it.
“Shouldn’t you be lined up by now?” Ned growled. Gary shot him a knowing look and Anne’s lips twitched in a Mona Lisa smile. Then she turned her attention back to the dancers while Gary shook his head. “Shoot, yeah. I’ll get out of here, then, buddy.”
“See you later,” Ned called after him. Gary turned around. “Sure, but I may stay late so if you want to leave before morning, you’d better catch a ride with someone else.”
The obvious hint hung heavy in the air after Gary vanished into the crowds. Five minutes later, Anne turned to him. “If you need a ride home, I’m happy to oblige.”
His skills at flirtation had lain dormant so long Ned wasn’t sure what to say. His mind dreamed up various replies but he couldn’t decide what to say. This woman had him smitten, and he had no idea what the hell to do about it. He wanted more but he knew he needed to back away after tonight. Ned made up his mind to enjoy this one-time occasion. He could dream about Anne for years and remember the sweetness of the evening, and the way she made him feel.
“I might just take you up on the offer. Are you hungry or anything? I’ll buy you an Indian taco if you want.”
She tilted her head and nodded. “Sure, but get me two if you don’t mind. I think I’m addicted to them.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Ned needed time to breathe and think. He headed for the food stands but took a longer route so he could take a piss. He hadn’t had blood since Wednesday, the night he met Anne and the need reared up in him again now. It wasn’t a wild urge yet, but the gnawing desire was as annoying as an itch. Powwow wasn’t the optimum place to find a donor. With no alcohol on the grounds, he’d have to take someone sober unaware and leave them without a clue what happened. For a second, he considered using Anne, but rejected the idea. If he ever did, it wouldn’t be now or from need alone.
He headed out where the RVs and campers lined up like a modern gypsy gathering, and wandered. If he waited too long, the need would grow and consume him. After a couple of passes around the main cluster, he spotted a potential candidate. The teenage boy stomped up and down in fancy dress, struggling to fasten some of the feathers in place but couldn’t reach them. “Here, let me help,” Ned said. He came close, put things right and then bit down hard on the back of the boy’s shoulder. He didn’t require much and he made it quick. When Ned finished, he slapped the kid hard. “Damn, that was a monster mosquito.”
“That son of a bitch hurt,” the kid griped. “Thanks.”
“Yeah,” Ned said. Then he headed over to wait in line for four Indian tacos and a couple bottles of water. By the time he got back to Anne, the blood he’d taken satisfied his need and he’d calmed. He planned to enjoy this time with her, although it’d be the one and only time. Anything after this would be too dangerous, too damaging.
They ate the Indian tacos and Ned savored the spicy meat with cheese, lettuce and tomato served on fry bread. He enjoyed it more than he had in longer than he could recall. Food wasn’t a priority, but it tasted good and he liked Anne’s company. She ate with appetite and thanked him. “Oh, those were good.”
“I’m glad you liked them.” His social skills weren’t the best. He managed at work and with friends like Gary but interacting with Anne challenged him. “Can I get you anything else?”
She waggled her fingers. “A napkin or two would be great.”
“Sure, no problem.” Ned headed off to bring her some napkins, and took a moment to walk past the men lined up for the fancy dance. He caught Gary’s eye. “Hey, man, I’m going to catch a ride home with Anne.”
Gary shot him a thumbs-up of approval. “Figured you would and you might as well. She’s hot. Have fun.”
Ned nodded and moved on. They stayed through the shawl dances and the fancy dress competitions but it grew chilly beneath the trees. By 10:30, Anne wore the long-sleeved shirt he’d toted along over her blouse and at midnight, Ned realized although he kept late hours as a rule, she probably didn’t. “Are you about ready to head home? It’s getting on past twelve.”
Anne yawned. “I’d love to stay but I suppose I’m ready when you are. I’m a night owl most of the time but the fresh air makes me sleepy.”
He stood and folded his chair. Then he wondered if he should leave Gary’s or haul it home too. Ned debated and decided to leave it. He offered Anne a hand. “Come on, Cinderella. We’ll get going so you can drop me off.”
She stretched as she came to her feet, and without planning it Ned draped his arm around her shoulders. Anne fit, he thought as they walked toward the distant parking area. It seemed a lot farther than when he’d arr
ived. They passed Gary’s truck and he asked, raising his voice over the crunch of their feet on the gravel, “Where’d you park?”
“Way over that way,” Anne replied as she pointed to the right. Ned narrowed his eyes and spotted her blue Nissan. As a vampire, his night vision was excellent. “I see it,” he told her.
Together they wound through the tightly parked vehicles and reached it. Anne pulled the keys out of her bag and after a moment’s hesitation she thrust them toward Ned.
“Would you drive, please?” she asked.
His fingers wrapped around her key ring. “Sure, I’ll drive if you want.” He wondered why but didn’t ask. If Anne wanted him to know, Ned figured she’d tell him and she did once he slid behind the wheel.
“I’m sleepier than I thought and I’d hate to go to sleep at the wheel. Thanks for driving.”
“No problem.” Ned didn’t mind but he wondered how she thought she could drive on into Lawton if she feared she’d doze at the wheel. He maneuvered the sedan out of the parking area and onto the road. With more speed than he dared in his old pickup, Ned skimmed along the highway and appreciated the way the car handled. A full moon commanded the sky above and bathed the world with magical silver light. He thought Anne must’ve fallen asleep because she hadn’t said a word but she spoke up. “Isn’t the moon pretty tonight?”
“Beautiful.”
“It’s a real Comanche moon. Can’t you just imagine a band of warriors heading under one to raid and attack?” Anne’s voice sounded drowsy. “I can almost see the war paint on their faces and ponies. They must’ve been a magnificent sight.”
Without thinking, Ned replied, “We were.” In his mind, he recalled the others. In memory he rode among the Quahadi again. He failed to think about what he’d said until Anne, her tone sharp with amusement, said, “You sound almost as if you’d been one of them.”
He had but couldn’t admit it. “My grandpa told a lot of stories handed down from one generation to another,” he told her. “I always wished I had been. Besides, I’ve seen some of the movies where they look almost real.” A few did, authentic enough to give him pause.
“You know what, Ned?”
“What’s that?”
“I think you wish you’d lived back then, when the Comanche were still wild and free. It must be in your DNA from Pea’hocso or something.”
“Yeah, something like that, I suppose. I imagine some of it wasn’t as nice as it sounds like in stories or books or shows up on the movie screen.” He kept his voice even but Ned wondered how he felt. Sometimes he missed the old days so much it became an ache in his chest. But, when he thought about the way his sons died and his wife, remembered so many deaths and the relentless violence, he thought maybe humans had progressed at least a little. Life meant less in the past, Ned believed. He didn’t always feel he belonged here in this time and place but if he could, he wasn’t sure he’d want to go back either. All he knew with any certainty was he’d want to be Comanche anywhere, anytime.
“I’ve thought about it myself, daydreamed about living out in Texas on the plains,” Anne said. Her words summoned up a mental picture of Anne, dressed in calico with all her wild hair tamed into a braid and topped with a sunbonnet. Ned envisioned her standing in front of a settler’s cabin along the Brazos with a baby on one hip or riding on the seat of a covered wagon. With her apparent spunk, he figured she’d been one of the pioneer women who stood with a rifle at the ready. Then he imagined her as a captive, like Quanah Parker’s mother. Back in the day, Ned would’ve slung a pretty prize like Anne across his saddle and brought her home without hesitation. Aiyana wouldn’t have liked it but he didn’t care. This fantasy meant he could dream about Anne as his captive, before or after Aiyana.
His cock stirred at the idea. Desire throbbed through his veins and ignited a fever. Ned hadn’t had a woman in a long while and he wanted this one. Lost in memory, distracted by his wanton thoughts, he almost didn’t hear what Anne said next. “I know I’m as white as Christmas snow but family legend says my great, great, great, maybe five times great-grandmother was Comanche. She was Penateka or so they say.”
“Honey-eater,” Ned said. “I, uh, my ancestors were Quahadi, antelope.” He’d guessed right. His earlier speculations that she might possess some Indian blood were correct and it happened to be Comanche. His imagination shifted and turned her hair black. Ned put his dark haired version of Anne into a traditional deerskin dress, fringed and beaded. He added a bright Spanish shawl, large enough to wrap from shoulders to knees, like one he’d brought his wife from a raid deep into Mexico. Ned suppressed a shiver. He wanted this white woman, in her jeans, in pioneer garb, or traditional dress.
“Of course, since you’re descended from Pea’hocso,” Anne said. She didn’t sound sleepy now. “I’m sure life was more difficult than I think but I’d love to go back and experience it. It could be like a little vacation.”
That wasn’t the word Ned would choose but then he wasn’t familiar with the whole concept of vacation. He’d never taken one, and even on his periodic moves to another location he worked, ate, drank blood, and passed the time. He enjoyed travel, had even as a horse-riding warrior, but the idea of a getaway remained foreign. What he understood of vacation, however, involved relaxation and down time, doing little or nothing. As he recalled life on the wide plains as a nomad Comanche, he couldn’t help but laugh at Anne’s idea. “I doubt it very much,” he told her. “More hard work than anything else.”
Anne stuck out her tongue at him, brief and sassy. Her childish gesture fascinated him and the sight of her tongue inspired him to do wicked things with his. “Says you,” she muttered. Then she sat up and smiled. “Oh, I know you’re right. I’m sure it wasn’t all romance and fun. But when I see the dancers painted up like warriors, it gives me goose bumps. I’d give almost anything to have seen an authentic warrior.”
Ned had paints he’d made with the same ingredients he’d used in life. He could go home, strip out of his white man’s garments, and dab the black onto his face in the patterns he’d adopted as a warrior.
“Warriors used black paint for war raids,” he commented. “And paint was often used for other ceremonies too, but I’m sure you know that.”
She nodded. “Yes, but I’m talking about what I’d love to experience instead of what I know from books and study.” Anne smiled over at him with a gleam in her eyes, adding, “I don’t think I’ve ever found anyone sexier than a Comanche in full-fledged old fashioned clothing, buckskins and all.”
She’s going to be my ruination and I’ll suffer for centuries over this. Drawn to her, wanting her, Ned couldn’t believe her fantasy turn-on happened to be what he was. He might be a little old-fashioned and lack the best flirting skills but he read between her words. Anne wanted him too. His resolve to walk away weakened as his cock stiffened. Ned almost laughed aloud. He’d done more than a little reading about vampire lore and although he didn’t own a computer or see a need for one, he’d used one at the public library. Some vampire experts believed vampires couldn’t get a hard-on because they were dead men walking. I’d like to see one of those bastards with a boner like this, Ned thought with a chuckle.
Ned followed Highway 62 to I-44 then took the Route 49 turnoff, where he headed west toward the Wichita National Grasslands. When he changed direction, Anne sat up straight. “Aren’t we going to Lawton?” she asked.
“If I’m going home, we’re not.”
Her frown line returned between her eyes. “I thought you lived there.”
“No, I live out just north of the grasslands,” Ned told her. “It’s not as far as it probably sounds. Is it a problem? I can take you home and figure out a ride later or something if it is.”
She chewed on her lip. “Well, no, it’s not a problem. I just figured I wouldn’t have to drive farther than across town. I’m not familiar out here in the boonies and I’m afraid I’ll get lost. I’d hate to lose my way or fall asleep at the wheel.”
His eyes flicked over to study her closer. Anne didn’t seem drowsy now and he wondered if she had been or if it’d been a ruse to spend more time with him. He suspected the latter. “How about you come in and have coffee at my place?” he suggested. “Then I’ll drive into Lawton and you can follow me. You won’t get lost if you do.”
A smile developed and spread across her features the way dawn broke out on the horizon. “I’d like that,” she told him. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” For no real reason except to impress Anne, Ned chanted bits of a war dance chant he remembered. Even he didn’t know all the meanings behind the words because it dated back to ancient times, but reciting it sent a shiver down his spine and evoked memories. Although he kept focused on his driving, part of his mind saw the people’s camp, the tipis stark against the night sky and felt the warmth of the leaping flames in the fire. He heard other voices join his and he remembered the steps, the way of the dance.
The sight of his mailbox brought him back into the present and he turned down the lane, slow so he wouldn’t damage Anne’s car. As they bounced along the worn ruts at low speed, Anne peered into the darkness. “You live down here?”
“Yeah,” Ned said. “Don’t worry. I haven’t hauled you away from civilization to scalp you.”
Her nervous giggle told him maybe it hadn’t been the right thing to say. He wanted to ravish her, to take her body and join it with his. Maybe he shouldn’t but he might and he knew it. He parked her car facing out toward the road, so when they left, she wouldn’t have to back up in the dark. Ned shut off the ignition and handed her the keys. “Here we are. Come on in.”
As they entered, Ned wondered how his home would appear to fresh eyes. He gazed around the rectangular living room. The stone fireplace he’d built himself stood against the far wall. To the left, a long old divan, 1970’s vintage, stretched along the wall and faced his television. A few shelves held his favorite movies and music. At the end of the room a stereo topped an old coffee table. His walls were bare save for a Comanche shield. Sparse by any standards, the kitchen was no different. Bare, clean countertops reflected the overhead light when he flipped it on. The ancient round-topped refrigerator hummed across from the stove, both appliances older than Anne he’d guess.
The Comanche Vampire Page 4