Breach of Contract

10 AM, the next day.

Arleen drank coffee at a busy cafe. One thing she could appreciate about Rikers City was it's culture— every street corner held within it another part of the world. She chose this cafe because it reminded her so much of home. She even managed to trick herself into thinking this coffee tasted like she kind she used to drink as a child. Deep in thought, she stretched her arms to sooth an aching muscle. Clumsily, she spilled the hot coffee directly on her leg. She yelped, drawing the attention of a waiter, but the pain went away almost immediately.

"Ma'am are you okay?! Let me grab a burn ki—"

"Believe me, I'm fine. Just a little scalded…" her voice was quivering. He thought she was crying because of the pain, but it was deeper than that.

She took off her wide brimmed at and looked up at the blue sky, feeling the sun on her skin. Arleen had been in the sun for hours. She hadn't felt the sun in millennia. The vampire shed a tear.

The other patrons asked her if she was okay, surely the spill hurt her horribly, but she waved them away. They couldn't understand the smile on her face as she ordered another coffee. She hadn't tasted real food for that long, either.

***

Later that day, Arleen returned to Phillip's brownstone with several large, old chests. Someone of her size should've been struggling, but the only issue she seemed to have was balancing them in her arms. They jingled as she trudged up the stoop. Now that she was at the door, they suddenly felt heavier than they ever had before. Begrudgingly, she knocked on the door. A minute later, Phillip answered, stepped back, and let her walk in. She stood still for a moment, then realized something and kept walking in. He smiled when she went past him; it was easy to forget that some vampires need permission to step inside of a home. It was a fun gimmick he wished he got to see more of.

"Your payment, Mr. Brunel, as agreed upon." One by one, she put down the chests on the floor. With each of them, she whispered a small incantation, and a click echoed in the room.

With a small flick of the wrist, they all opened simultaneously. Arleen stood to the side quietly as Phillip looked over a veritable fortune worth of treasure. Each of them was layered like a cake— solid gold coins from an ancient civilization at the bottom, jewelry from the Middle Ages, and at the top, credit cards, all in different names.

"Just like the contract asked of me. Every single valuable item I own." She took several deep breaths. She didn't need to, but it was involuntary. "Thousands of years of history… here, for you."

It was almost too much for her to bear. She sat down and willed herself not to cry. She was still undead, but thanks to the contract, she could choose when to feel alive. This was not one of those times.

"Yes ma'am, as we agreed upon. Thank you, Arleen, and congratulations on the very real possibility of getting a tan. I appreciate you coming early, too— you didn't have to bring it all until around 8 in the tonight, you know. 24 hours, and all that." Phillip didn't even bother double checking. No matter what, he felt like he was coming out on top of this one. He didn't even plan to spend most of that— it was much more valuable as leverage. Arleen simply nodded, scratching the skin under her ring. She rubbed the engraving on it, idly thinking of days passed, before dropping her hands at her side and making eye contact with Phillip.

"Our terms are met. Goodbye, contractor, and I hope you enjoy your earnings. I hope you live a life as long as I have," she said with a bit of venom in her voice.

Phillip nodded, and opened the door for her to leave. She'd be back. He could bet on it.

———

Arleen had been feeling terrible all day. She cried more than she ever had before, and her body wasn't giving her the catharsis she needed to feel better. Even with some of her vampiric curse now gone, her body was still used to it's undeath. Not that she would've been fine if she were fully human. So much of what she was forced to hand over to that accursed contractor had been given to her through the ages. Not bought. GIVEN. The last memories she had of her family, lovers, children she raised, or friends she made. The things that reminded her that she used to be human, that she still wanted to be. And some whelp, a mortal with no clue just how much he had asked for took it all. With a smile on his face… but she had to tell herself that it was all worth it. She could feel again, see the sun, enjoy food… he couldn't take the curse away completely, but she'd found so much joy in things she wasn't allowed to enjoy for so, so long.

She wasn't going to let him win, though. She kept something. Her wedding ring, made of gold and platinum, that her first husband made. In the thousands of years it rested on her finger, his name was engraved on the ring and inside her accursed soul. Neither of them faded.

Soon, sunset came. Arleen could see the sunset. The blinds in her apartment were open— the glare was annoying, but she could SEE the glare. She had finally stopped crying. Her eyes were stinging and her breathing was labored, but she was tired. She started to doze off, lying in her bed. She normally slept in a small room hidden inside her closet, but tonight was special. She could wake up safely in the morning. Safety was on the forefront of her mind as Arleen thought of her husband and the ones that left her behind. Even though she was comfortable on the bed, habit made her stay away from the windows, blinds or not. She rested her eyes, and truly fell asleep for the first time in thousands of years. That feeling didn't last long. Arleen felt a sudden, harsh burn on her finger as it touched the light shining in from the windows. She knew this pain— the sun! Yanking her hand back, she rushed to her closet and slammed it shut. It took her a minute, but she realized… the sun wasn't actually out. She stepped out of the closet to confirm, and indeed, the only thing she noticed was the soft light shining from her oldest friend, the Moon. Slowly going back over to the bed, she tentatively moved her hand out to where it was the first time. This time, her world moved in slow motion. Although it happened in an instant, she saw every bit of skin and muscle began to burn away on her entire hand. She cursed in her native language. The moonlight! It was the moonlight! Arleen looked down at her rapidly disintegrating hand in anger and disbelief… one curse for another! Shaking in fury, her ring slipped off the bone, what was left of her hand.

Anger quickly turned into sadness. She still had her ring, but the terms hadn't been met. The pain she could feel again made her acutely aware of her now ruined hand. Years of practice let her navigate her room, around the window, and back into her closet. She began to cry, but again, catharsis never came. Instead, she passed out in shock.

***

The next morning.

A light knock on the brownstone door. Phillip knew who it was.

"Come in," he chimed. He had the chest open facing the door.

Arleen stumbled in, with her ring held in the opposite hand than it had been on for all of her unlife. She wore a glove on the other, limp hand.

"The terms weren't met, were they?" Phillip had his pen and a new piece of paper already prepared. "Don't worry," he said. "The consequences are permanent… unless you agree to make a new contract. And don't worry, you can keep the ring."