Thirsty - M. T. Anderson [12]
“What is it?”
“It is called the Arm of Moriator.”
“So you would like me to travel to another world, carrying a body part?” I say.
“No. You’ve misunderstood me. Arm as in arms race. It’s an archaic usage. The Arm is in fact a magic disk a few inches wide. I think it’s blue.”
“What will it do?”
“I will explain precisely when the time comes, which will be in a few weeks. Let us say for the time being that the Arm of Moriator will stop Tch’muchgar from escaping when the vampires interrupt your townspeople’s spells of binding. If he tries to escape from his prison world, he will pass out of that world but will not enter into another. He will thus cease to exist.”
The celestial being winds his fingers together with a sense of finality. “Christopher, I am giving you the chance to save your world. I don’t understand why you’re standing looking confused and frightened. I am also giving you the chance to prove that you are, deep down, a human and not a vampire. If you can prove that to us, we will lift this curse. Your fate is tied up with this quest, Christopher. You can be a hero and a human. Or you can be a vampire. And degenerate. And be hounded down by a mob after you’ve chewed through the throat of some pretty girl in an alley.”
I think about that, looking out across the reservoir. Tom and Jerk are sitting much farther down the bank, throwing stones into the water. Tom points across to one of the islands. I look there and see a large bird flapping among the trees. I say, “But I’m just — look, I’m —”
“Christopher, Christopher, your life depends on this. The lives of everyone you know, too. Remember, in four months you’ll be ready for blood, unless you help. Remember the stake. Think about the squealing of your own vampiric little heart.” He smiles. “I’ll be in touch.”
“What if I . . . ? Isn’t there some other way?”
“There isn’t. You won’t be in danger. You’re on the cusp, remember? So you’ll slip in and slip out. Undetectable. I’m sorry I have to ask you to do this. It really won’t be as difficult as it sounds. An adventure. Just give me a few weeks to retrieve the Arm of Moriator and then we’ll talk. Three weeks is a long time when you’re becoming a vampire.”
My head is spinning. “I don’t know,” I say weakly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Christopher, this is the only way. Say yes.”
For a minute I stand there looking at him frowning with his lips pressed together. A little girl is riding a bicycle with training wheels on the ridge above us. Her father chases her and calls, “Go, Stacey! Go!” He runs against the thickening clouds.
“Okay,” I say. “If it’s got to be.”
“It has got to be. Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes. I’ll help.”
The celestial being laughs and claps once. “That’s wonderful. You’ve made the right decision.”
“I hope I have.”
“You have. That’s just great.” He shakes his head. “This sure is a load off my mind. Now I can go and retrieve the Arm of Moriator for the next step.”
“When will that be, again?”
“In about three weeks. I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay,” I say. “What is your name?”
He looks surprised. “My name is nonverbal,” he says. “It is a pattern of thought.”
“You don’t have a name?” I ask, somewhat incredulously.
“Okay, a name,” he says, shrugging. “I don’t know. Name . . . ? Chet.”
“Chet?”
“That will do.”
“Your name is Chet? Chet the Celestial Being?”
“Look,” he says. “I don’t need this.”
“Do you really think I’m becoming a vampire?”
“You are becoming a vampire. Within a few months, you’ll be a killer.” He moves to rise. “Damn,” says Chet the Celestial Being. “I am unused to physical existence and my leg has fallen asleep.”
I part ways with Chet. He shakes my hand and says he knows I’ll be perfect for the job. He says wait a few weeks and I’ll start to see his point of view.
“Otherwise, Tch’muchgar and the Forces of Darkness will devour us all.”
Then he limps away, doing the hokeypokey with his sleepy left leg.
I run toward my friends through the long, dead grass. I want