A cool breeze drifted across the back deck of Embers. Rhychard leaned along the wooden railing, a Jameson neat sitting beside him and a Rocky Patel between his fingers, the smoke curling upward in a twisting stream. He stared at two pelicans as they drifted by, their bodies buoyed on the Indian River as the minuscule waves lapped upward toward the bank. Peaceful, the whole scene before him. He needed peaceful right then, needed a small period of calm so he could decide how best to move forward against the demons threatening his city, his world.