Negotiations

"No," said Layathel, who had until then been silent. "That's not how this is going to play out. Jason isn't going to make that choice on my behalf."

Surprise changed to frustration, and Jason projected his voice. "There's not a lot of option, here. Unless Dracula wants to renegotiate." Now, that was a thought. "Would you like to renegotiate?"

Dracula shook his head without hesitation. "Impossible. There's more at stake here than you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, unfortunately, the inability to discuss certain things is a double-edged sword, and I'm bound by the same contractual stipulations as you. More, in fact."

Jason looked at Layathel and put a hand toward Dracula as if to say, "See? Completely unreasonable." Layathel said, "If he forces you into this situation, then he'll force your children into it, too."

Dracula said, "How did you—?" Then he pursed his lips disapprovingly. "Ah, the book. I might have destroyed it if I could find the blasted thing."

"That's right," Layathel said, looking surprisingly smug. "I've read it. And there's no telling what the real reason for this whole thing is."

Again, Jason was given pause. "What more," he began with pensive pauses in the lilt of his speech, "is there?"

Dracula looked annoyed. "Again, we can't actually discuss it. Ironically, I would have to ask you to trust me."

"I'd find that difficult."

"Yes, I don't blame you. We're again at the ultimatum, young Sange. I offer you all the worldly pleasures you can imagine, and some that you cannot, in exchange for remaining in my employ. I told you before that you have everything to gain and nothing to lose.

What's more, there are things that will come from your cooperation, things that you will likely never understand, but which, I assure you, you would not hesitate to accept the contract to maintain if you only knew the details."

Jason's words didn't match exactly how he felt. Either this was a very strong bluff, or something more was happening. He'd considered it more than once: Why would Dracula bother with this particular family, and why would he be so adamant about it? Hang on, the copy of the contract at home was inked in reddish-brown, like old dried blood. If magic were real, then that suggested something, right? "Layathel," Jason said and she snapped to attention. "If a contract were signed in blood, what would that mean?"

"Well," she began, glancing at Dracula who seemed suddenly intrigued, "it would bind the two signers to the contract in a way that is deeper than just legally. If magic was imbued into the signing, I mean, and it was their own blood of the, um, respective signers."

"So you mean that it could compel the signers to obey?"

"Right, if that's the spell. It could also do much worse things. Like, I dunno."

"Like what?" Jason insisted.

"You know. Like, explode, I guess."

Of course she'd say that. "Alright, then let me ask you this: What would happen if the contract itself were written in blood?"

Layathel thought about it. Dracula waited patiently. If Jason was reading him correctly, he was hoping that Layathel's response would actually work in his own favor. "If you signed an entire contract in blood, then it could mean any number of things. It could be a spell as simple as preventing the ink from fading to ensuring that the continuation of the contract caused something else to happen. There are too many possibilities for me to really have any clue what it might mean. Is that what happened with the contract in—"

Jason clutched his head at the direct mention of the contract. A pressure swelled in his brain that wasn't exactly painful, but highly discomforting. His vision blacked.

"Sorry!" Layathel said. "I mean, never mind."

"So you see," the Count said, snatching his cane from its place leaning against the chair's armrest. He stepped forward, limping, cane pressing into the carpet. "Things are being done that must continue, lest evil befall us all." He stepped in front of Jason, who looked, and saw in Dracula's eyes a seriousness that couldn't be ignored. "And I do mean all of us."

"And it just happens to require our servitude?"

"Don't be a buffoon. It wasn't happenstance, but a decision made by myself and a man who, yes, happened to be your ancestor, but he was going to be someone's ancestor, and whoever it might have been would be standing here saying the same inane thing."

Jason couldn't disagree there. "And whatever it is, it's bad enough that you would threaten an innocent girl to ensure it wasn't, whatever, unleashed?"

"That's right."

Jason and Dracula stared at one another at length. Jason finally looked away. He was now more or less on Dracula's side, but he'd come this far. He didn't want to recant. This forced servitude, too, it bothered him. There had to be another way that Dracula could do whatever he was doing. As these thoughts went through his mind, he was watching, and saw the Count frown. Dracula must have been able to sense that he was losing Jason's compliance. The frown twisted into anger. Not every day did someone deny the Devil's right-hand man. "You know I could torture you forever. Your friends, and even your family when the contract ends. There's more at stake than merely your offspring."

That was the wrong move. Jason shook his head, now confident that he didn't trust this lunatic. "No. I'll find some way around it. I won't be strong-armed."

Dracula's eyes went wide, fury curled his upper lip. His fangs were unmistakable now. Jason's heart skipped; adrenaline poured through his limbs, beating from his chest. Then Dracula was gone. Layathel grunted, and Jason looked only in time to see Dracula sink his teeth into her neck. She shrieked. Jason, overcome with panic and fear, did what he always saw in movies, but never thought anyone actually did: He screamed, "No!"