The white words appeared on the black computer screen. It said what Miss Caldwell had feared. He was the perfect match. His DNA contained the gene, the gene she needed in order to live. Miss Caldwell had extracted the gene from men for over three centuries. Even though she was over four hundred years old, her hair was still long and black. Not a gray hair could be seen.

Miss Caldwell’s face was youthful and beautiful by every standard presented to her. Back in the 19th century she’d let her hair grow long while in the 21st century it was cut right at her shoulder where it curled gracefully.

She hit the ‘Enter’ button on her computer several more times but the results were exactly the same. He was the one who would give her the gene this century. Miss Caldwell knew this would be the hardest extraction she would have to perform. Even harder than the one she did on Abraham Lincoln all the way back in the 19th century.

Miss Caldwell laughed at how easy it had been take a swab of blood after John Wilkes Booth had done the job for her. The upcoming extraction would happen much quicker and almost painlessly. She would just slip the needle into the vein in his right arm extract the blood and get on with her life.

Miss Caldwell hit the release button on her control board. He emerged on a platform which he was bound to by course rope which dug into his skin painfully. The feeling of betrayal lay heavy in his blue eyes.

He had once loved her. She was beautiful and wickedly smart. He soon came to discover she was just wicked.

“Amethyst, why are you doing this?” he asked her in his deep husky voice. It echoed off the stone walls and floor of the room. He tried to struggle out of the ropes but they only cut into his skin.

“Quit struggling or that rope will see your blood before I will,” she said. Miss Caldwell wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her green ones were focused on the computer screen.

She was trying to find a loophole. Any loophole that would show he wasn’t the one for the century. But no, he had every characteristic. He was tall, had unique eyes, and loved her. Only men with the gene could ever love Miss Caldwell. They had the ability to see the good that lay below the black heart. Whether he knew it or not, he loved her.

“Amethys-” he started to say.

“That’s not my name!” she screamed at him. Their eyes met for the first time in days.

“Then, what is your name?” he asked her, softly.

Miss Caldwell stood there for a moment. Not even she had known her real first name. Every century she changed it to match a gem or stone. Once it was Jade, another time Diamond, and now it was Amethyst. All the stones and gems of the world were mysterious and seemed to live forever but without having been created millions of years ago they wouldn’t exist.

“None of your business,” she finally told him before turning around. She furrowed her brow as she stared at the screen.

Peter stared at her softly. He was no longer mad at her. The ropes had released slightly once he had relaxed like a Chinese finger trap.

“Well, I am the one tied up. I get one final death wish, don’t I?”

Miss Caldwell stared at him. How did her know he was going to die? It was impossible that he knew he die once she took a sample of his blood.

“Yes, but not that one,” she said quietly.

He kept his blue eyes locked on her. Peter looked her up and down. She was wearing all black with a pair of black high heels and ruby red lipstick. She looked exactly like every woman superhero or super villain had looked in every comic book known to man.

“You know my name,” he said. “It’s only fair that I know yours.”

Miss Caldwell winced. She wasn’t as cruel as to deny him a final wish or to be unfair. However, he had asked her the one question in the universe that she couldn’t answer.

“I can’t answer that. I don’t know my name.”

Peter searched her with his eyes once again. She was standing awkwardly. More weight was pressed onto the left side of her body and her face for once was wrinkled. She was growing nervous, it was plain to see.

“Fine,” he said. “Then, I wish for one kiss.”

Miss Caldwell stared at Peter. Her green eyes examined him like an X-ray. What would he expect to happen?

“Fine,” she said.

Miss Caldwell noticed how the ropes had loosened because he was holding completely still. They feel from his chest to his thigh like a seatbelt. At least he was still confined.

She grabbed the needle from her pocket. She carried it with her wherever she went just in case the blood from the last century didn’t last her quite as long planned.

The needle measured exactly four inches in length. To complete the extraction she would need exactly one tablespoon of blood. Peter would then slouch over because without the vital gene he could no longer live.

Peter wondered what was so special about the needle she held in her hand. It looked pretty much like the ones seen in hospitals. He’d had his blood drawn before so how would this time kill him. Then, he noticed the small clear liquid already in the syringe.

Miss Caldwell flicked the needle once. The clear liquid oozed slightly out. It would draw out the gene in his body to insure that she was able to obtain it.

She moved towards him slowly focusing on his right arm. He was muscled so the vein was invisible to her. That didn’t matter, however, as long as the syringe did its job there would be no worries. Miss Caldwell pointed the needle at his arm and pressed the point into his skin.

Peter felt the slight prick of the needle and it hadn’t even pierced his skin. The clear liquid singed his skin and he knew that it wasn’t a normal flu shot.

“Wait,” he said, impatiently, “my wish.”

She had almost forgotten the fact he had asked for a kiss. She sighed and slipped the syringe back into her pocket.

Miss Caldwell leaned into Peter and lightly pressed her lips into his. It wasn’t the first time she had kissed him in her life but she knew it would become her last.

“There,” she said, wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Bits of Peter’s DNA clung to her lips but it was impossible that they held the gene. Only blood held the coveted gene. Although, Miss Caldwell usually used saliva to determine whether or not he carried the gene; one check on the computer could show if there was a break in the DNA indicated the gene ran through his blood.

Peter stared at her. Her smeared lipstick ran across her face. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Miss Caldwell seemed so distraught.

He smiled at the thought of her kiss. The one thing that had ever made him feel alive. That’s why he asked for it. Why not feel alive before your death?

“Okay,” she said, mainly to herself. “Ready?”

Peter gave her a small nod.

Miss Caldwell once again took the needle from her pocket and pressed it to Peter’s skin. She carefully lined up the needle where the vein was located.

Peter prepared himself for the pain that would come. He closed his eyes and thought about everything but the needle pressed into his arm. The awaited pain never came.

He opened his eyes to find Miss Caldwell shaking violently. The needle still balanced on the point on his arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

Miss Caldwell felt a pang in her heart. It was unlike anything she had ever felt her life. Her palms became sweaty, her heart beat faster, and butterflies appeared in her stomach. She tried to deduce what it could possibly be. It was either a heart attack which was absolutely impossible or love which was almost impossible.

The needle dropped from her hand and landed on the floor. It broke into a thousand tiny pieces of glass and the clear liquid singed the floor. A large black spot appeared on the floor. A few sparks erupted around the room but soon they disappeared and only the burnt spot on the floor showed there was once a syringe.

Miss Caldwell let out a wail and fell over on the stone floor hitting with a small thud. She was dead.