“You’re not required to shign it,” I said. “Just lisshen.” Looking at the text, I became daunted. My jaw and tongue were in no shape to read this well. “Granuaile? Would you mind?” I offered the paper to her and she snatched it from me without looking, keeping her eyes on Leif.
“You stay super fucking still,” she told him.
“As you command,” he said.
Her eyes dropped to the contract and scanned it while Owen remained on guard.
“It says we’re to help him eliminate competitors among the vampire leadership,” she said.
“We will give addreshes to the Hammersh of God,” I explained. “We don’t have to do it ourshelves.”
“And you have already completed most of the work with your efforts to date,” Leif added. “I anticipate few if any obstacles at this point. I am, to the best of my knowledge, the oldest vampire in the world now.”
Granuaile continued, “It says that from now on, vampires may not occupy any part of North America west of the Rocky Mountains.”
“And?” I prompted.
“…And Poland.” Granuaile looked up at me.
“I do try to keep my promishesh.”
Leif pointed out, “The detailed language beneath says that vampires are to be given a month to evacuate those territories. After that, they may be unbound or staked on sight.”
Owen growled, “What do we have to give up for that?”
Granuaile dropped her eyes back down to the paper. “Everywhere else we have a truce. Live and let be undead, I guess. We don’t unbind vampires on sight; they don’t attack us. The war is over. Each side is allowed to defend itself in the case of physical attack.”
“Bah. That’s ripe for abuse. Kill a lad and then say he attacked ye and it was self-defense.”
Granuaile nodded once to acknowledge that and kept reading. “The vampires agree to maintain their population in the allowed territories in keeping with the Accords of Rome, which specifies one vampire per one hundred thousand humans.” She looked up at the ceiling, considering. “If you subtract the population of just Poland and the West Coast, that means a significant net reduction of vampires worldwide.”
“It’s all shite,” Owen said.
“Your Grove will be shafe, Owen,” I said. “Even when they are bound someday.”
He glares at me, but I know from experience that it means I’ve gotten through to him. If he isn’t yelling at me, at least he’s thinking about it.
Granuaile cocks her head to the side and points at the treaty. “If I’m going to sign this, I want additional clauses.”
“What did you have in mind?” Leif asked.
“Vampires agree to immediately divest their significant financial holdings from fossil fuel investments. Any energy investments will be in renewable, sustainable sources.”
“I see. What do we get in return?”
“The gigantic hint that fossil fuel investments are going to pay terrible dividends from now on.” She smiled at him. “I guarantee it. Sell while the selling’s good.”
“Done,” Leif said.
“And I want regular updates on the progress of Poland’s evacuation until it’s complete. Names of the vampires who leave and the cities they used to occupy.” She turned to me. “I’m going to see the sisters often, Atticus, and they’ll want to know.”
“The contract already specifies that you will get a full report at the end of the one-month grace period,” Leif replied. “After thirty days I will verify that every vampire has left Poland or else give you their location so that they may be unbound in accordance with this contract.”
“Ah. Good enough.” She set down the contract and drained her espresso. “Well, I’m satisfied. I’ll sign it.”
“Me too.” We both turned to Owen, who shifted his eyes between us.
“Ye really think this shite is worth signing?” he asked.
“I do. Join ush, and with our combined shtrength, we can end this deshtructive conflict.”
I did not add that we would “bring order to the galaxy,” but Granuaile put her hand up to her mouth to cover a smile anyway.
Owen missed it entirely. He said to Leif, “Add Ireland to the list of vampire-free zones and I’ll sign it. If there’s any arse-kicking to be done in Ireland, I want to be doing it meself, not leave it to some dead lad.”
“Done.”
“Good,” Owen said. “Let’s get this over with and start staying far away from each other.”
“Wait! One more thing!” Granuaile said. “A condition of my signature is that you have to finally answer this question, because I’ve been so curious: Do vampires poop?”
Leif slumped in his chair and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Please, no. Leave me with some dignity.”
“You can be as dignified as you wish when you’re leading the vampire world. We want to know.”