A cat shrieked at street level.

Eight stories up, Jaime Rennick threw a coffee mug at the wall. It was the third time his sleep that night had been interrupted. This was important because before he had turned in to bed, he had not slept in sixty-eight hours. He was beginning to think it wasn't meant to be.

He dragged himself to his feet and crossed the apartment to pick up the shards of porcelain. Faint moonlight streamed in through half-turned blinds, lending enough of a glow to the white walls to guide his steps.

Gingerly he scooped up the pieces of mug and escorted them to a trash can. They made a loud clatter as they fell down the empty receptacle. Startled, Jaime glanced around as though he could see his neighbors, hoping he hadn't woken them. Surely they had heard all that noise.

But nothing stirred, so no one in the apartments adjacent to his seemed to have been disturbed.

Scrolling through his phone's contacts list, Jaime played a familiar game: Guessing which of his friends, if he called them at nearly midnight on a weekday, would be least likely to kick his ass. Of course, if he chose wrong, most of those friends would be nice about it. But still, it would be rude to wake someone at such an hour.

This time, he selected Reynardo Morales. A vampire, Reynardo was almost certain to still be awake, even if the whole "sunlight burns" thing was not the case with him. Also, Reynardo only lived a couple of blocks away, in yet another upscale Central Business District apartment building. The difference was, Reynardo could afford his sky-high rent.

A few minutes later, Reynardo arrived with a giant bottle of melatonin. "I've tried that," Jaime said immediately, his tone flat with exhaustion.

"These come from the office of Dr. Astaire Kenton," Reynardo replied, handing him the bottle. "Rated to ease the symptoms of preternatural senses."

Jaime grimaced. "So you're saying these aren't melatonin pills."

"They aren't exactly FDA-approved." Reynardo went to the top-of-the-line refrigerator and poured Jaime a glass of water.

"You seem pretty sold on this superhuman stuff," Jaime said warily.

"I am something of an expert." Rey handed the glass to Jaime and settled into a sofa chair. "It was not so long ago that I experienced my own transformation."

Jaime scowled mildly. "Wasn't that like three thousand years ago?"

"More or less." Rey waved a hand. "Take the pills."

With a heavy sigh, Jaime dropped two pills into his hand and swallowed them with a gulp of water. "I mean, I don't really think this is gonna work."

"Then why did you call me?" Reynardo asked.

Jaime shrugged. "I was bored."

"Boredom is good. Dullness leads to sleep." Rey smiled. "A little hope is not a terrible thing."

Jaime shrugged again and settled into a chair. "So, what supernatural creature did you bet I am?"

"Hmm?" Reynardo raised an eyebrow.

"I know you and the other guys have a pool going," Jaime said. "What was your bet?"

Reynardo scoffed loudly. "Humph! We have no such thing."

Jaime stared at him.

"Well, I bet that you are a werewolf," Rey said. "I am a vampire. I can sense these things."

"So you bet that I belong to the species that is canonically antagonistic toward vampires? Sounds like a lie to me, Rey."

"Well, it hardly means that you and I have to be enemies," Reynardo retorted. "Many of my friends are werewolves, or other types of were."

"That's pretty much the most racist thing you could have said right there," Jaime pointed out.

"Species-ist," Rey replied. "But I see your point."

Jaime yawned and leaned back in his chair. "What about the other guys?"

"What other guys?" Rey asked. "Give me your keys. You're going to fall asleep."

"Our friends," Jaime barked. "And I'm not. I'm not even tired."

"You're yawning," Rey said. "The keys?"

"The door locks by itself," Jaime said. "If I fall asleep, you can see yourself out."

"Excellent," Rey replied. "So, tell me about your other symptoms."

"Symptoms?" Jaime asked as though he had not heard Rey correctly.

"Yes. The supernatural symptoms. Clearly you have advanced hearing. What else? Are you seeing more sharply? Do you have headaches?"

"Not any more than usual," Jaime said, yawning again. "What should I be having?"

"Well, you might smell things more acutely as well. Scents that have never bothered you in the past may become more pleasant or more irritating. Tastes may be stronger or better defined," Rey said. "Depending on what you actually are, you may be able to stay fit more easily, or you may have more endurance and strength. But for all of us, this starts out as more of a harassment than a blessing."

Rey stopped and waited for a long moment. Jaime's eyes had fallen closed, and his chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. Rey got up and set Jaime's glass on the sofa table. Despite the loud clank of glass against glass, Jaime did not awaken.

Being friends with Jaime was a full-time experience, but Reynardo and the rest of their little group found it more than worth their while. The young man always tried his best, but more and more often, especially of late, life seemed to deal him unfair hands. Yet he persisted, struggling against the forces that would, if allowed, push him back into obscurity.

With a little chuckle to himself as Jaime began to snore, Rey left, turning off the lights and closing the door quietly behind him. As promised, the door's lock engaged on its own. The bottle of illicit pills remained behind on the countertop.

---

A door opened slowly on silent hinges. No one paid much mind to the hooded figure that stepped through it and into Pirates Alley.

The night was dark, the sky covered in clouds. The atmosphere was perfect for the project that Belial needed to complete. He made his way along Jackson Square, which was uncharacteristically empty thanks to the demons cavorting about in it. In Belial's case, the demons shied away from him completely. They knew better than to trouble him.

Belial looked up at the grand cathedral and pursed his lips. There was no rule or set consequence to fallen for entering holy places, so long as they did not cause any trouble, but fallen typically avoided such places anyway.

Belial's appointment was not in the cathedral. His host had arranged their meeting with that conventional predilection in mind despite being one of a very few beings who should have known better.

"Welcome back to New Orleans, Your Honor."

Belial turned around and greeted his host with a touch of amusement. "I expect I have been here more recently than you, Dantel."

"So you have." Dantel, keeper of the Library Of All Knowledge, inclined his head just a bit. "We have a mutual friend who has also made a return to this fair city."

"We do. We also share a deep concern for that friend, I expect."

"Indeed." Dantel raised an eyebrow. "What do you know of Satan's plans?"

"At this time? Nothing. I know only that he hates our mutual friend and I suspect he wants to make an earnest attempt at Heaven."

Dantel chuckled. "Was the attempt three years past not an earnest one?"

"It was not his own, he seems to believe, as all of his steps were guided by our friend." Belial folded his arms. "He will not be stopped in the same manner as before."

"But you knew that. You would not have asked for my assistance and my connections otherwise."

Belial smiled.

"Before we begin in that vein, however," Dantel said, "you might like to know that you are not forgotten, at least not as much as you expect."

"I do not understand your meaning," Belial said slowly.

"You do." Dantel nodded. "Your penance is nearly completed. It is time to begin planning for your future."

A look crossed Belial's face for the briefest of moments. Dantel identified within it hope and anticipation. He did not comment on it before it disappeared.

"Where is your contact?" Belial asked.

"Just here." Dantel gestured toward a small table off to one side of the square, where a makeshift sign read "Psychic Readings."

The angel and the archfallen made their way over and stopped before the table. "Have you made a career change, my lovely lady?" Belial asked with a little smirk.

"We must all make great changes these days. Especially you, honored Prince." The woman seated at the table raised her head and gave them a terrible smile. There was very little to be called "lovely" in her face. The pig-like snout and dog ears were only matched by the venom in her gaze.

"I'm quite aware." Belial's smile was as thin as it was shallow. "I've requested your assistance for that very reason."

"So I've been told." Her gaze slid over to Dantel for a moment. "What do you have in mind?"

Belial chuckled. "Nothing you won't enjoy."

"Indeed." She smirked. "And yet it was you who placed the portals in Hades last year."

"On Satan's orders. He would have done worse." Belial folded his arms.

"True." She leaned back. "I'm seeing a fair deal of vengeance in your future, Belial."

"This isn't vengeance. This is defense," Belial snapped.

Dantel clasped his hands. The woman looked up at Belial and gave him another smile. "I see."

Belial started to make another sharp response, but thought better of it and held his tongue. The woman nodded. "Well, then. Have a seat, gentlemen, and tell me your plan."