Arleen's hand still hadn't recovered all of its skin, and muscle still reattached itself to where it should be. This was a pain she was familiar with, but her hand wasn't aching nearly as bad as her pride. She had her ring back where it was supposed to be, albeit this time it was resting over a glove. The shame she felt was unbearable. For a night, she couldn't pretend that anything about her was holy- worse than her first nights. Worse yet, the contractor sat across from her, his smile powered by her scowl.
He was drawing up another contract. When they made the first contract, he seemed to rush. Part of it, she could tell, was his eagerness to work, but she now realized that he wanted to feign immaturity. Fool that she was, she thought it didn't matter how much she withheld- after all, she didn't need to give him her home, or the clothes off her back. She gently slammed her fist on the table, redirecting her thoughts back to the contractor. Compared to the day before yesterday, he was taking all the time in the world. To pass the time, Arleen used her heightened senses and took note of every movement he made.
She was debating there and then whether or not she should just kill him. His blood smelled choleric, filled with childish ambition. He was still a relatively young human, no older than 30, but in this modern age, most humans began to sour around this time. It was probably all the plastic. She made it a principle to only feed on older humans right around the time the Cold War ended, and although she had become skilled enough for her feedings to be entirely harmless, she still felt bad about the trauma of a Kiss. Younger people tended to remember through their dreams, despite her ability to affect their minds.
With Phillip, she had decided that he would be an exception. It took everything she had not to drain the arrogant bastard in front of her, and her body language didn't hide it. More than anything else that's happened recently, it frustrated her that he didn't seem to be afraid. Phillip kept writing at that same leisurely pace, using a stick of White-Out just as often as he wrote with his pen.
Soon, the contractor broke the tension.
"For the record, although you failed to fulfill the last contract, the effects aren't completely null and void. You should still be able to feel, taste, and walk in the sun. I'm only bringing this up because I'm about to fix your moonlight problem in a few... more... strokes..." Arleen snatched the pen out of his hand faster than he could realize and rolled it around in her fingers. "…or maybe not. I guess you want to talk?" Phillip stretched his hand. Funnily enough, it was cramping up. He was about to take a break anyway.
"What I want to know, contractor," she growled, "is what the terms are THIS time." She kept twirling the pen. Phillip nodded and placed the notepad off to the side.
"Alright! No problem. Although, I'd like to give you the full rundown of how this magic works. Just to make sure we don't try any more loopholes. That cool with you, Arleen?"
Arleen slowly placed the pen on top of Phillip's notepad and stared into his eyes. Phillip was the first to break eye contact as he leaned back to explain.
"As you know, I've got a very ancient magic on my hands. Contractual Magic. Simply put, I've got the ability to bind the rules of a contract to the very fabric of reality. I can… 'tie' the words I speak and write with mana, and when I do, nothing short of a God can undo anything we've agreed upon."
"Every deal I make needs a few basic components. First, I need at least two people involved. If they can agree to something, I can make it binding. Let's say, for example… me and you."
Phillip took out a sheet of paper and a pencil to draw two stick figures: himself and Arleen. His was tall with glasses, and Arleen's had an angry face on it. They're shaking hands. The vampire wasn't impressed.
"Secondly, we need any sort of deal. Say… I promise to give you 50 bucks, and in exchange, you give me a pen. Once we agree, we've gotta make the exchange in whatever time limit the contract specifies."
The next drawing of stick figures shows this exchange of goods. Arleen was smiling in this one. After all, 50 dollars is a pretty generous gift!
"Lastly, the deal requires… consequences. If either side of the deal isn't met, one or both parties suffers the consequences. Let's say I give you the money, but the pen you gave me was actually a bomb." He started to draw the stick figures, but Arleen stopped his hand. He gulped and put the pen down.
"Well, then the contract would be broken. I held up my end, so I'd be fine assuming I didn't die in the explosion. You, however, would suffer the consequences."
Arleen thought back to the contract they made initially. She realized that the language was vague. It only stated that punishment would be dealt if she didn't fulfill her side of the contract… it said nothing about the curse of moonlight placed upon her. That definitely played a part in why she assumed she could get away with it.
Phillip paused for a moment to let her work through this part in her own.
"I should have known better than to do what I did," she admitted. "I'm such a fool— thousands of years old, and I let emotion cloud my judgment."
"Yeah, it was a little boneheaded of you. That being said, the curse itself was decided by me the moment you failed to uphold the contract. If I really wanted to, I could have just had you die instantly." Arleen thought the same thing in her head, but she decided not to tell him that. He continued. "On top of this, I really don't have to tell you what the punishment would be. The other party doesn't need to, either, but… I'm a little more careful about my end of everything."
"There are some limitations to this, mind you. These contracts require a transfer of resources, no matter how small. If it isn't possible for either party to produce a certain thing required of the deal, it becomes entirely null and void. The words mean nothing and it becomes a plain gentleman's agreement."
He started drawing the stick figures again, albeit this time he drew a random man instead of Arleen.
"This guy right here wants to fly, so he comes to me to gain the ability to do so through my contracts. Therefore, I give him a simple task: pay me 2 billion dollars by the end of the week. Since there are at least 2 billion dollars in the world, he could somehow earn that much and pay it to me. He can uphold his part of the contract— in theory. However, I can't fly at all, no matter what I do. The contract is dead in the water."
Phillip draws both stick figures with frowning faces. Arleen, however, looks puzzled.
"I am confused, contractor. If that's the case, how did you remove parts of my curse? There is no cure to vampirism, even partially, and your magic can't be strong enough to overpower that."
"It's simple. I CAN do those things." Phillip said it so matter-of-factly that Arleen almost didn't question it, but it didn't help her understand at all.
"Basically," he continued, "Since I can taste food, feel things, and walk in the sun, I can give those same abilities to you through the contract. As long as that contract exists, I'm lending you some of the privileges of my mortality. I think I said this before, but the original contract we made was long-term, no strings attached, as long as you gave me all of your valuables. Since you kept the ring, I had to give you a consequence, but otherwise your newfound 'abilities' can't be taken from you."
"How generous of you, contractor. Now, what's keeping me from killing you now that you've simply switched my sleep schedule? "
"A tiny little clause we agreed upon that makes the contract entirely null and void if you kill me. You should read through the entire document next time." Arleen understood why he was so calm, now. A twisted case of mutually assured destruction.
Phillip brought his notepad back in front of him and began writing again.
"Now that you know how it works, let me tell you the simple version of our NEW contract. I want you to work for me, and grant me full access to you and your abilities. You can quit at any time, but even after you leave, I'd still have access to your abilities. In exchange, I remove your moonlight curse… but only if you stay in my employ for at least a year. Otherwise, you die, straight up. No funny business this time. Your soul goes straight to whoever or wherever it's destined to."
Arleen took time to think. A year was nothing. What gave her pause was simply... being beholden to him.
"I accept, on one condition. If you happen to die at any time within that year, you'll become my thrall." Arleen smiled. She hasn't needed a thrall since she first turned. Something about taking the autonomy of another didn't sit right with her, but in this case, she felt like turnabout was fair play. She refused to be outsmarted by this whelp again.
"Deal." Phillip wrote her request on a post-it note and stuck it to the side of the notepad. "We can talk about the tiny details while I finish writing all this up. For now? It seems like we'll make pretty good partners." Phillip extended his hand, but Arleen didn't shake it. Instead, she stood up and turned to face his mirror. "Let me see my reflection, too."