The line at Ayenani was long, as had been the case ever since Jaime Rennick wrote a tweet about their breakfast menu. The restaurant's foray into breakfast was a recent addition, one that René assumed had been approved by the Empress of Almajoya in person. Now, the little restaurant opened at five AM to serve local favorites such as beignets and café au laits as well as Almajoyese drinks and dishes, then shifted to lunch and dinner menus for the rest of the day and night.

When it was his turn, René ordered his usual, the zare tea with a breadfruit salad. The barista, who was new, asked for his first name, and he gave it.

"Wait," the barista said as she wrote his name on the go cup. "René... Renaud?"

René nodded. "At your service."

"Oh my god," the barista said. "I was literally just reading the interview you gave in the Business Picayune."

"Really?" René smiled. "Are you an entrepreneur?"

"Yeah! Trying to be. I'm--" The barista stopped and blushed. "Sorry. I guess I should finish filling orders."

"Probably." René chuckled. "But here." He handed her one of his business cards. "Feel free to email me."

"Oh my--thank you!" The barista quickly pocketed the card and waved back as René stepped aside, then turned her attention to the next customer.

The next customer was a tall, shapely woman with rich, dark skin and dark hair. "Who was that man?" she asked the barista after placing her order, for a classic mocha. "You got quite excited about seeing him."

"Oh, he's a big deal in some circles," the barista explained. "He funds small companies, like BeNOLAvent and Coinage. Oh, and Moynacorp, of course."

"Moynacorp?" the woman asked. "As in, Christian Moynahan?"

"That's the one," the barista said, grinning. "Can you imagine? Oh, what's the name on your order, ma'am?"

"Isha," the woman said.

"Okay, Isha," the barista said. "But yeah. Sorry if I was unprofessional with all my fangirling."

"Not at all," the woman replied. "Was that man one of the Eccentrics, then?"

"Yeah, exactly!" The barista laughed. "Not that I would say that too loudly, since he's right there...."

The woman glanced over at the far wall, where René was greeting one of the hostesses. "But of course."

"I'll have your mocha right up for you Miss Isha," the barista said, increasingly aware of the growing line behind the woman.

"Oh, of course," the woman said, flashing a bright smile and a black card. "Thank you very, very much."

---

A sound forced René from his quiet sleep.

Sitting up in bed, he looked around. The room was almost pitch black, save for a faint sliver of light that emerged from behind the window blinds.

He was never alone in the sizable Lakeview mansion. There was always at least one guard present, plus various other staff and occasionally one or two of his friends. René preferred having others around. It felt more like a home with more people under its broad roof.

What he was feeling now, however, was different. There was someone in the room with him.

He did not move, but let his eyes sweep the large area. Perhaps, hopefully, it was one of his friends playing a trick on him. Reynardo hiding in his dark mists; Blair sending some sort of mischievous spirit.

But he knew the answer was not that simple. It never was.

René was very much a human, with no indication of that ever changing; he was well past forty years old, far beyond the age of manifesting uncanny abilities. But he had also known men like Blair and Reynardo for more than a decade. He could tell when there was something inhuman in his presence.

He sat stone still, barely moving. Nothing changed. Finally, after a few minutes of dark sameness, he began to convince himself that he had heard nothing, was imagining things.

Then something in the darkness shifted ever so slightly, leaning as though to leave through the door, and René slipped his hand under his pillows and drew it back out. Under his palm was a small angelwork knife.

The shadows did not stir.

"Speak," René said, letting the thin moonlight catch the blade of the knife. Its sparkle was warning enough.

From the darkness stepped a woman, to all appearances, with a curvaceous figure and rich, dark skin. Her black hair fell around her shoulders, and her lips parted a second before she responded.

"You are every bit as good as they say you are, Mr. Renaud."

René snorted. "As who says, demoness?"

She smirked again for a moment, but then seemed to retract a bit. She clasped her hands in front of her. "I seek information. And counsel."

"On what?"

She wrung her hands without quite noticing. "Leadership. Reputation."

René gestured for her to go on.

"I... used to be a woman of some consequence. Well respected, and followed, and feared by those who opposed me. But I... I suppose I coasted on that reputation, and as such, it's worn away."

René nodded. "And your name?"

"Yisharjal."

"You escaped from the Breach?"

"Yes."

René paused a second too long before speaking again, and in that second, Yisharjal decided to double down on this plan. "If you help me," she said, slinking up to his bedside, "I'll make it worth your while."

Before he could ask for further explanation, Yisharjal leaned forward and kissed him. He responded with marked eagerness. Encouraged, Yisharjal spent much of the night demonstrating just how she could pay for René's time with moments of pleasure.

Once she wore him out--which, she had to admit, took a respectable length of time for a human male--they laid next to each other for a while, catching their breath.

"Lesson number one," René said. "Don't offer more than you must."

She glanced at him. "Sorry?"

"I was agreeing to help you before you kissed me."

"Oh." She felt mortified until she realized that the look of amusement on René's face was one born from kindness, not belittlement. Then she let herself smile and admit, "Well, I like it better this way."

He returned her smile. "As do I."

She stepped out of the bed in a long arch of her body, designed to draw a last lingering look from him. "I'll be in touch, Mr. Renaud."

Then she stepped into the shadows, melding among them.

---

The next day began with a scheduled meeting. René was still a bit worn out from the night's excursions. He might have rescheduled the meeting, but it happened to be with two people who would be quite forgiving about his exhaustion.

Besides, the meeting was long overdue. The grand opening of the Riverside Hotel and Casino was set for January first, now under two weeks away. Everything had to be in place.

René arrived at the Regency Two to find Christian Moynahan looking just as spent as he felt. Reynardo Morales, on the other hand, was as chipper as ever.

"I still haven't figured out how a vampire can be a morning person," Christian said to René as they sat down in the storage room that had been serving as Christian's office.

"Optimism," Reynardo replied. "And coffee." He lifted a steaming mug of black to his lips.

"Speaking of optimism," Christian said. "Have either of you heard from Jaime?"

René shook his head. "Not in a week or so."

"I saw him a couple of days ago," Rey said. "Another sleepless night."

"He called me last night," Christian said. "He sounded kind of strung out."

"From not sleeping?" Rey asked. "I left him Kenton pills."

"No," Christian said. "From sleeping."

Rey frowned.

"Apparently he's having very vivid dreams now," Christian explained. "And I think he's also hallucinating."

"Seeing things that aren't there?" René asked. "Or seeing things that are there but he hadn't noticed before?"

Christian considered that. "It might actually be the second one, now that I think about it."

"He's manifesting abilities. I'm sure of it," Rey said. "Don't you think so, Christian? Didn't you have the same problems at your turn?"

"No," Christian said.

Reynardo and René waited for Christian to explain. He did not.

"I'll ask him if he'd like to stay over, so I can keep an eye on him," René said. "Although if one of you could also stay, it would help more."

"Thanks for volunteering, Rey," Christian said.

Reynardo balked. "Don't volunteer me!"

"It can't be me. I'm entertaining guests," Christian said. "Feel free to volunteer Blair in your stead."

"Reynardo has less drama," René said. "He can stay."

Rey rolled his eyes. "I have plenty of drama! I'm a vampire. I'll drag corpses into your house."

Christian cracked a smile.

"It'll only be for a short while," René said. "Trust me, I don't want any of you living with me any longer than needed. Not after the last time."

"That was Blair's fault," Reynardo and Christian said in unison.

"Of course it was," René drawled. "Now, as concerned as I am for Jaime, this is a business meeting. Christian, are you still determined to knock down this entire club?"

"I would love to," Christian replied. "But if it isn't feasible, then a full redesign would do."

"I would rather knock out walls than attempt an entire rebuild," René agreed. "But this does cut out Reynardo, who is an architect, not an interior designer."

"I have plenty of work on my plate anyway," Rey told them. "Rebuilding the hotel has raised my profile quite well, despite... other things."

The three men unwillingly reflected on HRL's outing of Reynardo as a vampire and how much the man's image continued to suffer for it.

"A redesign would move up the timeline as well," Rey added. "I doubt you could have one done in time for the hotel's opening, but within a few months, certainly."

"Do you have any designers to recommend?" René asked him.

"You'll grimace when I say this," Reynardo replied, "but Eileen Grier."

Christian and René grimaced.

"Her attachment to Astaire Kenton is unfortunate," Rey said. "But you shouldn't let that get in the way of business. She's the best in the city, she'll have the fastest turnaround, and she needs the work."

"Very well," René said. "I trust your opinion."

"Same," Christian said.

"Then I'll help you draw up some plans," Rey said.

They spent the rest of the meeting crafting a proposal for Eileen. For that brief time, they could almost have convinced themselves that there was nothing awry in the world beyond Christian's makeshift office.