“Well, you should have,” he said. “There’s evil out there, Davie. We’re the good guys. There’s another bunch of Storytellers, and they’re the bad guys.”
“Bad guys? How bad?”
“All wars, murders, atrocities are caused by them either directly or indirectly,” he said. “They’re the ones mundane people should be scared of. Besides natural catastrophes, they create supernatural monsters and demons.”
“Wait!” I said with my palm raised. “You can’t be serious!”
“It’s not just our job to try to improve the world through story, we must combat their evil power,” he continued. “They have their orb, and we have ours. They have their power, and we have our power. Our agenda is to create a utopian paradise, and we would, too, if it weren’t for them.”
“What is their goal?” I asked when I realized he was serious.
“The complete and total destruction of the entire human race.”
“That is messed up,” I exclaimed. His words shocked me so much I forgot my own predicament. “How can we stop them?”
“We’ve never been very good at stopping them,” he said. He looked embarrassed. “We tend to act more like firefighters than soldiers, and we put out whatever fires they start.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He tossed a photo down on the table. It was Spenser Williamson III, my boss.
“Do you know who this is?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s my boss,” I replied. “The editor of The Friendly Philly.”
Simon smiled but it looked sad. He slipped the photo back into his shirt pocket.
“He belongs to the Order of Chaos,” Simon said. “They’re the other Storytellers. While we use story to change the world’s destiny, they use a power altogether different.”
“And what is that?” I asked as a chill crept up my spine.
Simon remained silent for a second while he sipped his coffee. I noticed his hand trembled. The shadow of a cloud swept over my backyard, and I felt cold in the deeper darkness.
“They use nightmare,” he said. “They use the power of nightmare!”
