“Real blood,” muttered Inea as they packed. “There’s a difference between this stuff and real blood?”

“Yes, but it can be supplemented. I’ll show you.”

By the time they reached his apartment, he was almost faint with a hunger made acute by the promise of a complete meal. He had to conceal his hand as he opened the door, for his fingers were shaking with his need for haste.

But when the door opened, they were bombarded with sound. “Oh, I left the vidcom on! Turn it off, will you, please?”

As he went to the sink, Inea drifted to the vidcom and studied the controls uncertainly. Hers was different. “The silver stud on the far right!” he called, drawing water into his pitcher and putting it into the microwave to heat.

“Wait a minute!” she said. “Come look at this.”

He was in absolutely no mood for the news, but he went. The screen showed a milling throng-a riot in progress. As Titus came into the zone where the sound focused, he made out the words. “. anti-Hail terrorists in Africa today. In London, the Humanists claim credit for the catastrophic breakdown of Project Hail’s astrogational computer. Titus Shiddehara, the department head in charge of that unique computer, could not be reached, but Dr. Colby, Hail’s on-site director, claims the breakdown was due to a defect in the innovative hardware, not sabotage.

“Elsewhere: United Europe. World Sovereignties Police have caught an alleged assassin headed for Project Hail. The man, a native of Kenya, had obtained a plumber’s job on the Project with a false identity. Director Carol Colby was identified as his target.

“Soviet Republics. Chief Astronomer Arkady Abramovitch has testified that he alone is responsible for the attempted sabotage of all eight broadcast antenna arrays on the moon. According to Abramovitch, there is no international conspiracy to stop Project Hail. His objective, he claims, was to demonstrate how lax security left the solar system’s entire communications network vulnerable in the face of the potential alien invasion Project Hail is inviting. Abramovitch claims he never intended the bombs to go off.

“This just in from Lesser Houston.”

The scene shifted to dusty buildings scintillating in the Texas sun and cut to a woman at a mahogany desk. A sign appeared. “Project Hail Chair, Dr. Irene Nagel.”

“Dr. Nagel, what would happen to Project Hail if the assassination attempt aimed at Colby had succeeded?”

“Not much. Dr. Colby’s ability as an administrator is nowhere more evident than in the fact that she is very replaceable. Her work is organized so that any of several qualified people could step into her shoes instantly.”

“Assassinating the director would not stop the project?”

“No, indeed-”

The reporter cut her off. “Thank you, Dr. Nagel. Now back to Paris for the weather.”

Inea punched the off stud. “What do you make of that?”

“Fanatics will stop at nothing.”

“Think! If the terrorists now believe Carol isn’t a good target, where’ll they strike next? At an irreplaceable scientist-” Her expression shifted to wild surmise. “You’re not an assassin, are you? That isn’t why you went after that Brink’s woman-”

The microwave bleeped. Testily, he snapped, “You think! If I wanted to stop this project, I could just quit. I’m more likely to be the next target! How many others do you know who can do my job here?”

She answered the rhetorical question quite seriously, “The only other who had anything like your expertise in finding stars with planets-stars which might have spawned life on their planets-was Emil Tuttenheim, and he died nearly a decade ago.”

He nodded, “Poverty stricken and depressed because his work attracted no funding. Emil was my teacher-and my idol. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“That’s all right. I know you’re no assassin, whatever else you may or may not be. I don’t know why I said that.”

He nodded his acceptance and turned to the microwave. “Look over here.” He extracted the pitcher and thrust it into her hands. “Just over body temperature.” Setting it on the counter, he opened a packet, dumped the crystals into the water, and stirred.

The odor almost broke his imposed calm. He fumbled down two glasses and filled one. Raising it, he said, “Just to prove it’s not poisoned.” He downed it all in one draft, trying not to let his ecstasy seem too apparent. Then he half filled the other glass and handed it to her, hoping she wouldn’t drink any. He wanted to lick up every drop.

She held it close to her chest, wrapping both hands around it as if it were brandy, sniffed, wrinkled her nose, then tipped a bit into her mouth. With a strangled noise, she said, “It’s awful. But I guess it tastes like blood.”

When she handed the glass back to him, a thrill danced up his arm. The blood had absorbed a hint of her ectoplasm. It was the best known medium for the nonmaterial substance luren called ectoplasm. As a scientist, he was loath to use the term. It shouldn’t exist-but it did. And he needed it as much as he needed blood. The dead, freeze-dried blood would sponge up ectoplasm from any human it touched. He savored every drop, forgetting to control himself, for, charged even faintly, it was more satisfying than any elixir of the gods.

When it was gone, he noticed her watching, and wondered if he dared. His hunger finally overwhelmed his judgment. He refilled his glass and handed it to her. “Hold it to you. Taste it again if you want.”

“Why? It tastes like blood.”

“There are differences. This doesn’t come from a human. It isn’t alive. I need that life as you need vitamins as well as calories. Please. It will cost you nothing.”

Self-consciously, she cradled the glass, sniffing at it, then examined him over the rim.

Very gradually, her whole being became, suffused with a glow that sent tremors of fear-laced pleasure through him. No human had ever looked at him like this before. But it was instantly addictive. He couldn’t live without it now.

“Oh, dear God, Titus, what I’ve put you through! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know.”

She believes! He dared to move closer, drawn like a moth to a flame. Dreading yet another rejection, he watched in dismay as his hands rose to cup her cheeks. But she didn’t shrink from him.

Hardly aware, he lowered his lips to the glass and drank from between her two hands. It wasn’t the same as taking human blood. Yet it was enough.

He raised his head, not hiding what she had done to him. He couldn’t speak. He had only his hands to convey to her the depth of his reverence and surrender.

But she seemed to understand. For one long held breath, he thought she was going to kiss him. He was already aroused beyond bearing remembering that one voluntary kiss she had bestowed upon him. Then she shuddered and drew back.

“If you’ll brush your teeth, I’ll kiss you.”

He lifted the glass from her fingers. “And more than kiss? Promise me more.”

“More. Everything. Hurry.”

When he returned, she was in his bed, wearing nothing but a curl of sheet shading her breasts. Absently, he shed his clothes on the way. Scooping her to him, he sank into the ecstasy of it, and discovered his own driving urgency. She matched him move for move, as if she too hungered. He’d never had such a human, and it brought him to himself. Inea!

He sought control. No. She has given me what no other has ever freely offered-not just ectoplasm but love. This is for her.

“What’s wrong? Don’t I please you?”

She’s never been with a man who cared for her pleasure! The realization was like a cold shock. Oh, Inea! Humans could use humans more cruelly than luren ever did. He rolled her over to her stomach and whispered in her ear. “Remember you told me if it could be better with me than with. a human? I’d I said I’d make it special for you. Well, I will.”

He went to work, using the skills garnered over twenty years of more casual encounters, less fully informed consent. He’d used Influence to cast a glamour for his women, but he always made sure that what he took and what he gave balanced out, and in the process he’d learned the intricacies of the female response. Regarding Inea as a strange kind of virgin who didn’t know the power of her own body, he used his vampire senses to track her responses, but never focused Influence. What was between them would be real.