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Brick nodded. He leaned his upper body against the metal bar, his eyes thoughtful. He propped his handsome head on a palm.

“So you have been… what? Sulking since your mate left this plane?”

Nick felt his jaw harden significantly more.

Before he could speak, Brick held up a calming hand.

“Relax, offspring,” he said. “You have my sympathies. But I am wondering if I can persuade you to take on in a more invigorating distraction.”

Nick stared at him, his jaw still hard.

Then he let out a barking laugh.

“You want me to join your war?” Nick took another long drink of bourbon, and plunked down his glass. “Why in the fuck would I want to do that?”

“It affects you,” Nick observed. “Unless you’re planning to commit suicide by seer when it’s all over, it affects you greatly, child.”

Nick grunted, then slowly shook his head.

“No.” Nick rubbed a hand over his face, battling a brief head-rush from the liquor. He knew it wouldn’t last long, thanks to his damned vampire metabolism, but it was a nice high to chase when he couldn’t beat the memories back any other way.

“Promised,” he said, without looking at Brick. “Fucker made me promise before he died. No suicide. I’m supposed to ‘live my life’ for both of us now… so if a seer kills me, it won’t be because I walked into it.”

Again wondering why he was telling Brick this, he fell silent.

He forgot that a moment later, however, and let out a low growl.

“Fucking stupid,” he added coldly. “I never should have agreed to that. Never.”

There was a silence.

Nick could practically hear Brick thinking through it.

Moreover, despite the intervening years, Nick could have laughed at the sheer predictability of what he felt off his sire. Brick was trying to figure out how he could use Dalejem’s death and Nick’s obvious inability to deal with it to his advantage.

The realization made Nick snort cynically, then dust off the rest of his drink.

He motioned for the bartender, then pointed at Brick.

“Two more,” Nick said. “It’s on him.”

Brick didn’t so much as lift an eyebrow. Clearly, whatever he wanted from Nick was worth the price of a few drinks. Nick suspected it was worth a lot more than that to Brick, but he really, really wasn’t interested.

“What if I were to make it worth your while?” Brick asked, his voice a touch more cautious. “In the short run, too, I mean?”

“And how would you do that?” Nick asked, giving his sire a bleary stare.

“I might have a solution for you,” Brick offered cautiously. “I suspect you could enjoy your life here again… under the right circumstances. Perhaps I can help you with that, brother…”

* * *

Nick jerked awake.

He stared at a view of blue and gold light, confused at first about where he was, and what he was looking at. Then he blinked slowly, and carefully moved the arm of his that wasn’t trapped under Wynter’s warm weight.

He lifted his freed hand, and rubbed his eyes.

He fought to make sense of what he’d just seen.