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By Root 159 0

the Arm of Moriator for what he termed a highly secret mission. He explained that you were to be the human operative for the Forces of Light. For some days, we did not suspect anything. Then it came to our attention that there was no such mission authorized by our higher authorities. We believed there was some error. I was sent to monitor your activities and report back. Having followed you for some time, I reported that it did not seem you were engaged in any destructive activity. As it is inobvious how the Arm of Moriator could be used for evil, we concluded that you were in fact working for the powers of Light and that we had made some error.”

The Thing turns its left profile toward me and continues. “Seventeen days ago ‘Chet’ attempted to get in contact with you to give you the Arm. This time, I immediately sensed that he was a powerful negative being, and I approached you to question you about him. Before I could speak with you, he arrived and incapacitated me.”

The Thing shifts its head again to present its right profile. “Since then, I have continued to monitor your activities to establish to what extent you were in collusion with ‘Chet.’ In spite of your vampirism, I have reached the conclusion that you were most likely deceived as well and are not knowingly in the service of Darkness. For this reason, I approach you now in an attempt to establish the whereabouts of the Arm of Moriator and ‘Chet’s’ possible motives in stealing it.”

The Thing stands there and waits.

Finally, I admit, “Yes, he tricked me. He told me he was from the Forces of Light.”

“He is not from the Forces of Light.”

“I know. He just said that to —”

“We have evidence that he is working for the Forces of Darkness. Explain.”

“I was saying. He wanted me to activate the Arm of Moriator for him.”

“The Arm is dangerous to powerful spiritual beings of Darkness and its activation can result in their annihilation. Explain his application.”

“He wanted me to . . .” I hesitate. Then, in a shaky voice, I ask, “If I tell you all this, are you going to cure my vampirism?”

“That is of secondary importance.”

“Please,” I say. “I need to know that you’re going to help me.”

“I repeat that that is of secondary importance. Please continue.”

“Not until you’ve told me you can help me.”

“You are in no position to bargain. You may have compromised the security of your nation and our cause. In the event of noncompliance, you could be reported to the local human authorities. You will continue your explanation.”

“If you’re from the Forces of Light, you’re supposed to want to help me!” I protest angrily.

“We care deeply about the future of the human race. You are not currently of the human race. Your actions, in keeping with your vampirism, may well have compromised the security of your nation and our cause.”

I’m crouched there on my bed, fuming, sulking.

“You will continue your explanation.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you better help!”

“We will do our utmost in the event that this situation can be resolved to our satisfaction. Our aim is to ensure that the imprisonment and torture of Tch’muchgar the Vampire Lord continue indefinitely. Any aid you provide in furthering that aim will be seen as evidence of good faith. You will continue your explanation.”

“Chet asked me —”

“One moment and I will record this statement.”

“What?”

There is a click from within the Thing. “Continue,” it says. “Recording.”

“I was saying, the being I call ‘Chet’ —”

There is a whisper of air. My mattress bobs slightly.

I swivel.

Chet himself is there, standing grimly on my bed, his arms crossed.

He stares down at the two of us. His shoes bite deeply into my blankets. He looks darkly at me, then turns to the Thing. “Deceiving the poor boy,” he chastens. “Is there nothing you wicked, wicked people won’t stoop to?”

I’m trapped between them. I don’t know which way to go.

Chet says, “Christopher, get away from it. It means you harm.”

“Identify yourself,” the Thing demands, backing up warily. “Identify.”

“Christopher, stand up and go over by that wall.”

I scramble to the edge