~ Chapter 1 ~

"My name is Chel-C with a C at the end," she said, leaning over the counter.

The woman behind the desk had a face paler than moonlight, with glittering skin. A vampire. There seemed to be a lot of them around here. Why would Love Inc. have sent her to one of these places? She'd specifically asked them to find her someone without genetic modifications.

"Do you want a room overlooking the graveyard?" the woman asked. "Or one facing the blood sea?"

Chel-C blew a hair off her face. "Do you have anything bright and cheerful?"

The woman wrinkled her nose.

"Sorry," Chel-C said. "I'm just not into this."

She gestured vaguely at the hotel's interior, the large statues of gargoyles, the guttering candles, the waiters in dark suits serving glasses of blood.

"Hi," a male voice said. "Chel-C?"

She spun. He was pale, but not nearly as much as the many vampires. The set of his jaw bespoke strength. His eyes, however, were deep as empty sky. They were pale blue, the color tears would have if tears had color.

"I'm Vincent," he said.

He stretched forth a hand, and she took. It was cold, enough to make her wonder. Did his heart beat? Love Inc. had said he was a one hundred percent match.

"Can we go somewhere else to eat?" she asked. "I don't like the smell of blood."

"Neither do I."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Then why did we meet here?"

"I'm the owner," he said. "The Bloodlands of Tau Ceti have been in my family for over a century."

And there they were: pointed teeth. It was a shame, really. Well, it wouldn't hurt to go on one date. She followed him outside. As soon as they were through the door, he reached in and pulled the teeth out.

"I hate these things," he said.

He shoved them in a pocket.

"So you're not...?"

"Check my heartbeat."

He held out his hand and she put her fingers to his wrist. The vampires of literature were some form of undead, and thus had no heartbeat. The genetically modified creatures of the thirty-fifth century had veins filled with quietly pushing cilia.

A pulse thrummed in Vincent's wrist.

He smiled. "Please don't tell my customers."

She laughed, relieved.

They traveled one town over by horse. Not the actual biological animals, unfortunately. As wealthy as Vincent was, he couldn't afford them. These creatures were mechanical, and while they felt and looked real, they rode smoother, smelled less, and were easier to control.

"Life should be messy and difficult," Chel-C said. "Not like these--these things."

They arrived at a small inn, a building assembled from what appeared to be fitted wood. He threw a clover hitch knot around a nearby pole to tie his horse, as if it would consider running away. Chel-C played along.

"These are real wood," he told her they climbed the steps. "This planet's version of it, anyway. Cut from the native vegetation."

She leaned closer and sniffed. The scent of the boards reminded her of a mixture of vanilla and lemon.

Dinner was likewise lovely. Though very little of what grew on this world was edible for humans, a few things were. What remained came from plants and animals transplanted here from other worlds, nothing was printed or synthesized.

Vincent was a gentleman. He brought her back to the hotel and kissed her goodnight. She stood in the doorway, feeling the tingle on her skin where his lips had touched her.

~ Chapter 2 ~

After two more days and two more dates, they took a picnic lunch to the hills south of blood sea. Chel-C had been skeptical of the choice of scenery, but she discovered it to be a thing of beauty. The sea wasn't actual blood, though technology would have made something like that possible. Instead, it was an ocean rich with red-pigmented micro-organisms. The shore was decorated with long branching flowers with coiling red-rimmed flowers. Vincent used his considerable wealth to keep it as a natural preserve.

Knowing this one thing about him made her begin to love him.

When he kissed her beneath the rainbow sky, she forgot herself in breathless wonder. He could have melted away her self-control right then, but instead he remained a gentleman.

Was he the one?

"Would you come to church with me tomorrow?"

He glanced away. She held her breath while she waited for an answer.

"I'll go with you," he said. He still didn't look at her. "However, I prefer to stay outside and pray in my own way."

She sniffed, trying to decide what that meant. "I'm a traditional girl from the Church of Purity. Our beliefs go all the way back to the plague days on early thirtieth century on Proxima Centauri."

"I have traditional beliefs as well," he said. Another vague answer.

Chel-C found her thoughts focused on Vincent instead of the service, both during the sharing of wisdom and the symbolic, ceremonial infusion of the prophets blood. Was he truly praying as he'd said? What did his own way mean? As short a time as she'd known him, she was shocked to discover how much she cared about the answer.

When the service was over, she found him kneeling in the small, genetically pure garden. She waited, quietly, for him to rise. Time melted silently away while he sat with bowed head. Eventually, she came and put her hand on his shoulder.

"The service has been over for some time now, and I thought we might get some lunch."

He rose. Whatever he'd been praying for, he'd poured a lot of emotion into the request. She hoped it had something to do with the future of their relationship.

A shiver ran up her arm at his touch. There was something strange about him now. What?

His took her hand and led her along a path strewn with crystalline flowers.

"Is it too early to talk about marriage?" she asked. Her cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry," she said, hurriedly. "Sorry."

"It's all right," he said.

He stopped and gazed deeply into her eyes with his black ones.

Black? Hadn't they been blue?

"Two things," he said. When he spoke, the tips of white fangs extruded from below his lips.

"First, I've lived for more than thirty centuries and I've never loved a woman the way I love you."

She blinked.

"Second, I'm a vampire," he said. "Not one of these genetic creations of the modern age, but the inspiration upon which they were designed. I'm a creature older than space travel itself."

His words made no sense. Something inspired the creation of vampires? Something more than thirty centuries old?

"But your heart..."

"Beats for a time after I've fed. Likewise, my teeth retract and my eyes lighten. I survive on stolen drops of life, but have none of my own."

Chel-C's eyes stung. "I don't--how could--"

"Before I believed in the Divine I knew Evil. It appeared to me as a bloody dove, a dying woman's breath, and a moonless night. Thrice it offered me immortality in exchange for my soul." He laughed. It was a sound like poison set to music. "Like a fool, I accepted."

Her mouth worked silently.

"Let me feed on your life. Perhaps in your love, I can find the redemption I've sought for so long."

Chel-C fled.

~ Chapter 3 ~

Libby, the representative from Love Inc. had translucent skin. Her bones, also, were clear, making the presence and operations of her organs visible. Chel-C shuddered.

"I want a refund," Chel-C said. The words tumbled from her throat like broken glass. "He was not a perfect match."

Libby frowned. "He met every criteria you listed. He likes natural things. He's wealthy. He'll love you forever. He believes in the Divine. He's genetically pure--"

"That's not what I wrote," Chel-C said. "I said one hundred percent human. He's a vampire."

"Well," Libby answered. Her tongue rolling like a dark ghost in her mouth. "There was a glitch. Technically, however, he has human DNA."

"So does a crime scene!" Chel-C said.

Libby frowned, sending little ripples of light through her forehead. "We don't do refunds. We can find someone else for you."

Someone else.

Who else could there be? Who else could claim her love was unique across thirty centuries? Who else could truly love her forever? How could she deny him the pure blood he needed and claim to believe in the prophet who'd given hers for Proxima Centauri?

#

Vincent came to her on a moonless night, setting his teeth to her throat with savage gentleness. Ecstasy caused her lips to part in a moan, like the coo of a dove. He stayed until the last breath left her mouth, to be caught up in his lungs.

He knelt, sobbing beside her. For a time, the universe went still.

When she opened her eyes, they were as blue as tears should be, pale as death's mechanical horse, and pure as the melting centuries.

The End

~~~

Steven R. Brandt is an author, father, computer scientist, spinner of black holes, and amateur martial artist. He is a traveler, but at six four, he doesn't fit well in airplanes. Fortunately, journeys to impossible worlds don't require any higher price than the ability to read.