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The dog curled up on a bed Nick had given her, one they’d also kept around for Panther. After sniffing all around it and inside the sheepskin cushion, she stepped up on it daintily, then turned around a few times before plopping herself down, shoving her nose into a fluffy clump of wool. She closed her eyes with a contented sigh.

Nick watched her fall asleep, and realized he could easily get attached.

He’d always had a particular soft spot for sweet-tempered, polite dogs.

Probably best not to go there until he’d talked to Jem.

He glanced around at the pristine zinc counters with their three-dimensional, blue-green-copper backsplashes above and below blue-painted wooden cabinets. As the sun continued to rise, he felt his worries about Brick begin to dissipate. Brick had obviously gone out of his way to unnerve him; it likely meant nothing, just another stupid game.

Maybe he wouldn’t need to tell Black.

Maybe it wasn’t worth feeding his boss’s fears for no reason.

He ran a hand over the counter as he thought it, and his mind turned to the house, which was still new enough to be a novelty, and not only because he owned it outright. It was the first house he’d ever owned as an adult; as a cop, he’d resigned himself to the fact that he’d likely never own a home in San Francisco, not unless he changed professions.

He still marveled that it was his.

Of course, being a vampire had improved his credit rating quite a lot.

Really, working for Black had done that. Whatever other brain damage that crazy fucker could be accused of, stinginess with his employees in either salary or benefits wasn’t one of them. Black paid well above market rate, even for private security.

Also, Brick supplied him with what he’d called “starter cash,” back when Nick first became a vampire.

The amount had been substantial, more than enough to buy two houses of twice this size, even here, in San Francisco––even right on the water like this. It was a pretty piss-poor way to compensate him for turning him into a vampire against his will, but, knowing Brick, the fact that he’d been given it, “no strings attached,” somehow made them “even.”

The combination of these two windfalls made it an easy decision to do something Nick had only daydreamed about when he’d been human––buy a home on some of the most expensive coastline in the world, and only a short walk over a tall dune to reach the beach where he’d first learned how to surf. He felt more spoiled and more in awe of the reality of his current situation (and slightly guilty about that fact) than he had any right to feel, given what he was.

He couldn’t help but feel he didn’t deserve it, especially after what he’d done when he first became what he was.

That said, he wasn’t greedy.

He hadn’t bought a palace on Baker or China Beach, or in Pacific Heights.

He bought a relatively modest home, just over 1800 square feet, with two main stories plus a small garage below and an even smaller sunroom above the second floor. It had a decent-sized backyard filled with fruit trees and a redwood deck and a small outdoor kitchen and barbecue. The front door stepped out onto the sidewalk beside the Great Highway, only a few blocks south of his favorite coffee shop, a few more to his favorite surf shop, and a few more to Golden Gate Park.

Jem loved it here, which mattered to him more.

Black offered them both a place at the California Street building, of course.

With the “war” over, however, Nick didn’t want that.

Luckily, neither did Jem; the last thing either of them wanted was to be locked into a massive building downtown with no nature, no real space of their own, and zero separation between their personal lives and work. So they’d found this place instead, in the Inner Sunset, and Nick bought it with cash over Jem’s protests. He put both of their names on the deed, over Jem’s even louder protests, and let Jem pick out all of the furniture and fixtures and other decorations, which the seer had been strangely quiet about.

That was fine with Nick, because Jem had great taste.

Nick ignored his ridiculous insistence that he pay him back for any of it.

Fuck it, what was money for, if not to spend it on something they both loved?

And both of them had fallen quickly in love with the quirky blue house with its painted white shutters and its odd little room on top and its eclectic mishmash of beachy and Victorian vibes you could only get away with in San Francisco.

It was slightly less convenient for work, of course, but that didn’t matter to either of them. Jem bought them both motorcycles, maybe in an attempt to make up for part of the house, and they had one car they shared between them.

The house was muchmoreconvenient for late-night surfing and for getting some distance from the crazy of Black’s world.

It was also more convenient for late night walks along the beach, going running on the trails of Land’s End, going to pubs and meeting neighbors and having barbecues, and even possibly planting a garden when spring really landed.

Nick smiled as he glanced around at their artfully-placed appliances, mildly amused at what a neat freak Jem turned out to be, especially now that they had their own place. There was an irony in having such a fabulous kitchen now that Nick was completely unable to appreciate the meals he and Jem might cook in it. That said, even though he couldn’t eat like he did before, he still liked to cook, and his sense of smell was even better than his sense of taste.