Circumlocution

When Layathel came in from the kitchen holding two mugs of coffee, looking like a delivery service from heaven itself, she stopped short. "Jason, are you alright?"

Of course he wasn't alright! His future, the future of his children even, was caught up in some ridiculous deal that was made centuries before he was born. He was left holding the papers, while the hand that penned and signed it were long bereft, petrifying or disintegrating in a grave somewhere. Angrily, shaking the book, Jason started to lament. He could feel the diatribe swelling. "This contract—" Jason's mind blanked. Then as if waking suddenly and on his feet, he saw that Layathel, coffee mugs in hand, was looking at him with the kind of pained shock that could make the victim for whom she was showing compassion feel like the predator, having given her such an expression.

She said, "What's wrong?" Her hands shook and the liquid in the mugs sloshed.

"I don't know." He looked around as if he didn't know where he was. "I was talking one second, and the next it was like I was coming out of a daydream."

"Maybe you should sit."

"Maybe so."

Settling on the sofa, he took his coffee and had a sip. "Oh, I can feel that going directly to my veins."

Layathel sat beside him and hooked an arm around his, put her head on his shoulder. "Now that we're all comfortable, what were you saying about a contract?"

Jason felt something when she mentioned the contract, a pressure in his head. It felt like he was going to pass out, coffee notwithstanding. "The—" He started, but the word didn't come, and then he was blinking his eyes open. Everything was upside down, spinning. He flailed his arms out to catch himself and felt his hand smack into something fleshy. Layathel recoiled with a squeak.

"Jason! What the hell!"

His eyelids fluttered. He realized he was laying on the floor. Layathel was standing over him now, rubbing her shoulder, her short blond hair framing her face. Wait, what was going on? Wasn't he just on the couch? Why was he down here? And why was there a pain in his wrist? He checked and the skin was a bright red. Now how did that happen? That was the second time he'd lost time. Both times when he was trying to tell her about the contract. Oh. Duh. The book he was holding, that he'd just now read, said that he couldn't discuss it with anyone. It had said something about a compulsion. That must be what it is, some sort of compulsion magic, as ridiculous as it sounded. He started to sit up, but Layathel knelt suddenly and put her hands on his shoulders. "Hang on," she said firmly. "I think I should call a doctor. You're having some kind of seizure."

He gently put a hand on one of her wrists. "No, it's not that. It's the— magic."

"What?" She said at arm's length.

"Let me up and I'll explain."

For a moment her visage became mischievous, but she must have thought better of it because she stood, taking his hand in hers and helping him to his feet. He sucked in a breath. "Oh, sorry," she said, realizing she must have grabbed his pained wrist. "You dropped our coffee on it. Your floor is a mess now. Are you sure you don't want me to get a doctor over here?"

"I'm sure." Jason couldn't talk to her about it directly, but his father had managed to explain it to him by simply telling him about a book, so Jason could do the same. He went down the hallway and returned to the parlor a few moments later with a pen and paper. He'd not tell her, but simply write it. They went into the kitchen and he started putting down ink, but half a letter in and his hand refused to move. Jason liked roller ball pens. They were more generous in how much ink they laid on the paper, and it was more satisfying. As he struggled to finish the single letter, ink feathered and blotted the paper. Flinging his arm, the paper went flapping into the air with a crinkling burst, then fluttered to the hardwood floor.

Layathel again was staring, the way you look at someone who was losing his mind and might become violent. When she spoke, her words were delicate, wrapped in a gentle cadence of understanding. "Jason." He looked at her. "Do you want me to go?"

There was an almost painful moment in which Jason could see himself from her perspective, and he looked like a friggin' lunatic. He intentionally remained on this side of the center island, with her on the opposite end. "I'm sorry. I look a little manic right now, but trust me, it's a spell."

"How long is it going to last?"

He stared at her dumbly for a moment, then, understanding, had to laugh. "No, I mean it's a magical spell, not a period of time. Look, there's—" He could feel the compulsion building, "—things that cannot be discussed easily. Oh, that worked?"

"What worked?"

"Circumlocution."

"I don't follow."

Of course she didn't, but Jason was doing things the hard way. The answer was simple. He walked into the living room again, beckoning her to follow. He just had to give her the book. He snatched it from the couch and handed it over. "There you are, it's all in there."

Glancing skeptically from the book to him, she opened it.

"Look for a n—" No, couldn't say that. "My favorite things are numbered lists. Got it. I mean, ignore that last bit, just focus on the fact that I mentioned a numbered list while you're perusing."

"I think I get what you're saying. Is there some sort of enchantment that isn't letting you talk about this?"

"How would you know that!" He hadn't meant to shout but there was no way she was that intuitive.

"Well, I dabble in magic myself a bit." Her eyes scanned the pages as she flipped. "Though I've never known a spell to work that overtly. It's normally subtle things, like getting a guy to stop in just the right place for me to talk to him, or making someone feel a little more upbeat. Oh, here it is." She turned the book toward Jason and pointed a finger at the list. "Is that it?"

Jason tried to affirm but felt woozy. He collapsed onto the couch and just looked at her.

"I'll just assume that's a yes. Wow, it works so well! You're completely helpless! A girl could use whatever magic was used on this. Let me see now." She took a while to read it, and as she did her face gradually set into a grim expression that didn't change even when she finally looked up from the book and met Jason's eyes. "This is horrible."

"Listen, Layathel." Jason took the book from her hands and gently tugged her elbow until she sat beside him side-saddle style. "I don't want you going near Dracula again. Get him out of your mind. I don't think this is a game, and Dracula certainly isn't in this for funsies."

Layathel grabbed her face, gnarling her fingers, pressing her nails into her flesh. "I'm such an idiot."

"What?"

"Remember in the car? When I cried?"

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. The man pretty much threatened you."

"No, you naive dork. That's not it. I was upset because I was into him. I wanted him! And he didn't do anything, he wasn't enthralling me. I just liked the idea."

Jason said nothing at first. It had both been sudden and expected, but he hadn't given it much thought after they'd left. He just assumed that they'd both silently agreed that the Count was not someone either of them wanted to have anything to do with. If he'd known it was bothering her he'd have said something already.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and Jason sensed it was tough to overcome her pride to say this. "I'm unfaithful."

"Well, that's a strong word. You were curious. Who wouldn't be?"

"Agh, I sound just like a cheater! 'I was curious.' Just like my mother."

This was getting a bit too dramatic, and there were other things that needed to be tended. Jason pressed his palms into Layathel's cheeks, a little forcefully so that her lips poofed out a bit. "Hey, look at me. In my eyes. You didn't do anything wrong. I'd forgive you if you did, but that's not even necessary because you didn't. We're good. We have many dates in our future as far as I'm concerned."

She looked at him with her lips all pushed out and her eyes wide and glistening, and nodded.

"Good." He held her there for a little longer. Maybe there was enough time to fool around a bit.

She must have sensed his lascivious contemplations because she came forward against his chest and snugged the top of her head up under his chin, then came up placing kisses along his neck. "I saw that look," she said, each word between a kiss. Jason moaned in response, and he wasn't sure if it was due only to the pleasurable touch or because he was exhausted and this was relaxing. Their lips came together. Layathel's eyes opened wide and it kinda frightened Jason a little. "Hey," she said. "Do you think I should look up some counter magic for you?"

"Oh," he replied with relief. "You mean for Dracula?"

"He uses magic, right? His enthrallment, and changing people into vampires. It's all magic."

"I suppose." He had no clue. "It couldn't hurt." It might, actually, but he didn't know enough about it to say one way or the other, and she seemed like she wanted to help. "As long as you don't need to be near Dracula to do it."

In their passionate kissing, Layathel had ended up on Jason's lap. Putting one foot on the floor, she swung her other leg around and went to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I've gotta get my books."

"You know I drove you here, right?"

"I know," she said, though Jason didn't believe it. He believed she forgot and was quick on the uptake to save face. "That's why you're coming."

Jason stared around his department. His life had been fairly simple until recently. Law school. Bar exam that he was confident he was going to pass. He'd be a compliance officer, ensure that capitalism was working properly for businesses and the people they hired. No entanglements with vampires or even women. There were, he admitted to himself, benefits that came with the complications. The wet spots where Layathel's lips had touched began to chill as the air, stirred by his small movements, whispered against them. Pleasurable benefits in some cases. "Alright, let's go." He stood. "But I'm gonna pour me another cup of coffee first."