Please, put me back in the wall, I’d prefer it to this. Ten years from now and I’ll still be sitting here talking in circles. “Bliss,” I said.

“Bliss in the absence of suffering? How would you know bliss without a counterpoint against which to reference it?”

“Because bliss is bliss. You don’t need pain to feel pleasure.”

“Yes,” he said. “You do. There is no peace without war.”

“So is that what you are, then? War?”

Those flickering flames were mesmerizing.

“Without us,” he said, “there can be no peace.”

“Us? What, you and your clone buddies? Your wolf men?”

“Everyone involved in this story is part of the army, including you.”

“Yeah, well. We’re on opposite sides.”

“God and the Devil, yes? If not for the Devil, would we have need for God?”

He’d be better off having this conversation with Cassie. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“You are the story,” he said. “You are the great attractor of the most valuable asset in this plane of existence.”

“Spare me the Deepak Chopra bullshit.” Though he’d made me curious. “What valuable asset?”

“Human awareness.”

This is why I warned you not to read this book.

“What are you talking about?”

“We are at war. Fighting for peace. For happiness. For love. For the achievement of our greatest potential. A bird cannot fly without resistance. Neither can man.”

“What side are you on?”

“The side of resistance,” he said.

“So, what. I’m the bird?”

“You are a casualty, I’m afraid. Collateral damage, as it’s called. I need this story to spread the resistance. This is not my doing. I have my own masters. I only follow orders.”

“What story?”

“The one you will write.”

“I’m not a fucking writer.”

“No, but you have a story. The author will come.”

This book is ghost written, you’ll see.

“What author?”

The firewood popped, sparks exploded in his eyes. “The one inside your son.”

I sank back into my chair, watched the fire. Its purpose is to burn. And we call it cozy. Need it for heat, to cook our food. Just don’t get too close or it will kill you.

“What is inside my son?”

“The key to our happiness. The cause of your suffering.”

“What is it?”

“You will find out.”

“What is it?”

“It either lives in him or you.”

“What?”

“The dark that supplies the light. Without light, all is dark.”

“Without you all was fine, you sick fuck. Give me back my son.”

My breath was trembling. This man I couldn’t even see.

“You can have your son. If I can have your story.”

“Story.” It sounds so simple.

“That’s all.”

This book you hold in your hands. It wasn’t written by me.

“I’ll fucking write whatever you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to write a thing.”

“Fine, who then?”

I’m so sorry.