Cougar Redfern rapped on the door, and not waiting for an answer, let himself in. The evening sun slanted in after him, but he shut the door, leaving the sweltering summer heat outside. Nonetheless, it had left its marks during the day; a line of sunburn on his nose and cheekbones.

 "You're late," came an accusing call. Lisa appeared in the doorway, bright in orange and yellow. In a rare change, she'd curled her hair, and it sprang out around her face in wild spirals, making her look surprisingly sultry. Cougar approved whole-heartedly.

 "I'm never late," he asserted, moving past her. "Your clocks are fast."

 "By an hour?" Ah, the familiar tone of someone used to his whims. Cougar heard it a lot, a mix of exasperation and someone trying to stifle laughter, and he quite liked the fact his friends had a special voice for him.

 "Hey, is it my fault I'm so laid-back I'm operating in a different time zone?"

 "Where are your manners?" she demanded, catching him by the arm. Her eyes were bright with merriment, diluting her strident words. "Didn't your mother teach you anything?"

 His mother had been colder than an ice sculpture, and her teachings had been limited to political manoeuvring and managing accounts. All his social skills had been self-taught - and drummed into him by Lisa. "Would I be here if she had?"

 She pursed her lips. "Only to demand tribute. Now give me a proper hello, Cougar Redfern."

 With a pretended sigh of exasperation, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She smelled heavenly - like fresh cookies, which meant there might be something of a sweet and tasty nature for him. "New perfume?" he hinted.

 Amusement in her eyes, dark and gentle. "If you go into the kitchen, you might just find something to your liking."

 "A trio of hot girls covered in chocolate?"

 "Close enough," sighed Lisa, shaking her head. "And bring out the jug next to them."

 There were indeed cookies waiting for him: his favourites, double chocolate chip. Unable to resist, he ate one, then grabbed the tray and what looked like a jug of something suspiciously healthy. "Well," he said as he went back into the living room, balancing the tray expertly on one hand, "I guess these'll do as an apology."

 Lisa glanced at him. "For what?"

 He plonked down the food and sat himself on one of the scattered beanbags, punching it into a comfortable shape. "For all the things you and Toya and JJ have been hiding."

 Hah. There, her eyes dropping from him briefly. She didn't like to lie, their Lisa, though she could do it with an almost straight face after he'd given her some training.

 "And don't try to deny it," he ordered, golden eyes shrewd as he snaffled another cookie. She might not be able to boil an egg or flip a pancake, but no one could make cookies like Lisa. "You've got that guilty look."

 "Don't talk with your mouth full," she chided, a mothering tone to her voice. "All right, maybe there are some things we should have told you-"

 "Like the fact that Dragon was a dragon?" He thought about that. "I mean, all right, it's not like she was trying very hard to hide it, but..."

 She held up her hands. "We didn't know either. She kept that one to herself."

 Inevitably, their last encounter with the might of dragons - or rather the stolen powers of one - flashed through his mind. That had been more personal, and at the time, hadn't seemed quite so deadly. Dangerous, yes, but fabulous too, as if some winged and leviathan lizard really had come roaring down from the skies, to evoke not only fear but awe too, a child's simple marvel at the beauty of the beast.

 The battle between Anguis and Dragon had been nothing of the sort; warfare at its most brutal and bloody. There had been nothing of wonder, only bitter violence and callousness.

 "Not hard to guess why," he muttered. "Well, what about the soulmate thing?"

 She shook her head. "Nope. Come on, Cougar, you met her."

 "Well, she wasn't exactly fond of me. Hey, for all I know, when's she not so damn antagonistic-"

 Lisa cocked her head and gave him a look that said quite clearly he was calling the kettle black. "While you are a very paragon of sweetness and affability."

 "Sometimes I duet with bluebirds," he agreed solemnly, and gave her a wink. "Anyway, I thought maybe she was having girly chats with you guys. You sure spent a lot of time whispering in dark corners."

 "One corner," she objected. "And it was well-lit."

 He shrugged. "Whatever."

 "I'm pretty sure Dragon doesn't have girly chats with anyone. We did wonder why Matt and Dragon were acting so...oddly, but it was an odd situation. We had bigger things to worry about." Lisa snorted softly, her mouth curving up at the corners. It had surprised him when he'd first met her, that smile. There was a quality to it he couldn't define, a feeling that she was holding something back - or being held back. It was a woman's smile, tempered by time, not a girl's.

 "Huh. Okay, then, what about the secret society? The...um...angels? Is that it?"

 A brief silence, then she spoke. "All right, guilty as charged. It was part of the price of being allowed to come here. They're this - oh, I don't know, they help people. Some people. The ones who deserve it, for whatever reason. From what I've heard, and it might be wrong, they're trying to fulfil certain prophecies to try and keep the Burning Times from coming again."

 He frowned. If he hadn't seen a battle between dragons just last week, he would have said that the Burning Times were long gone. "C'mon...surely that won't happen. I'm not too hot on history, but I thought all the dragon bigwigs got killed, and the weak ones got put to sleep."

 Her gaze was hard and direct, difficult to meet. He was forcibly reminded that despite her youthful looks, she had a good few years on him, and an accompanying cynicism. "Last time, it was civil war. The witches only survived because some dragons fought for them. Now...there are no true dragons left, as far as we know - even one dragon, no matter how weak, could cause...oh, mindless devastation. If the angels are trying to stop that, I'll do what I can to help."

 He couldn't argue with that. Instead, he searched for something less grim. "So...soulmates, huh?" he said finally. "That's the second time we've heard it. I thought it was just a legend, or that Blue, that Chatoya..."

 His voice trailed off. I thought it was a fluke, he wanted to say. Or a lie. Or a trick. Something. But if Dragon and Matt are soulmates, that means my bastard brother's telling the truth, and Chatoya really is stuck with him.

 And I wouldn't wish Blue on anyone.

 "It's real enough," she answered. "I'd heard it was coming back. Or maybe it never went away."

 Soulmates. It was an enticing idea, certainly; the idea that there was someone out there who was the other half of your soul, the best part of every day, a divine ideal snared in mundane flesh. Sometimes, when he got sick of watching happy couples hand-in-hand, he'd wished for someone bold and brilliant and brazen, someone who could match him and challenge him.

 "What do you think yours would be like?" he said idly. "They're supposed to be perfect for you, right?"

 "Huh." He could understand that sentiment; after all, unless Blue had hidden depths, he was about as imperfect as they came. Still, Cougar wasn't going to dwell on his unpleasant sibling, who was thankfully far, far away. "I don't know, Cougar. All the literature says is that you share a connection. If you're both willing, then yes, maybe it would be amazing. Or maybe you'd just argue all the time, and someone who can see right inside your soul has all the ammunition they need to really hurt you."

 That was unusually pessimistic from Lisa, and there was a sad line to her mouth that he couldn't miss. Had something happened lately that he hadn't heard about?

"How have you been?" he probed, searching her face with new intensity. She was always the one who looked after them, relentless in her care, her gentle persuasion. Maybe she needed to be looked after. "Kick-ass battle aside, I haven't seen much of you lately."

 She laid her head on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. "I've just been...oh, I don't know. I'll get over it."

 "Well, if you tell a certain dashing vampire, you might get over it quicker," he urged. It didn't even rouse a smile from her, but she did look at him, indecision in her face. And in the moment when he realised she was going to tell him; she did trust him, he wasn't just some arrogant kid she tried to educate...well, a gentle warmth filled him, and he felt obscurely pleased.

 "I feel lonely," she said, and Cougar felt the shapes of her emotions under the words, felt an answering echo in his own heart.

 Loneliness, yes, he'd lived with that for a time. It was pervasive as rot, creeping into your thoughts with stealth and subtlety, splitting you off from the world. Loneliness wasn't empty moors or high walls, it wasn't solitude or solitaire, it was a roomful of people who became strangers beneath your watching eyes: it was seeing a face you had mapped with your gaze for years and finding it suddenly foreign, their contentment more insurmountable than rage or envy would ever be. Words were turned to slush and gibberish, as they spoke about things you could not comprehend.

 Us - one word, yet it could divide as surely as it united.

 He didn't know what to say, but he thought there was only one thing he could do. With exaggerated nonchalance, he got up and went to sit next to her on the sofa. She eyed him with misgiving.

 Cougar gave her a sideways glance, and flashed her the grin he'd seen Cern use on all the girls. Cute, charming, a little abashed. "I don't say this to everyone, Lise, but...how about a patented Redfern hug?"

 Astonishment stole her usual world-weary air. "There's a patented Redfern hug?"

 He nodded solemnly. "There is, but family tradition demands I only use it five times a decade, and I've been waiting for a momentous occasion."

 Her mouth lifted a little, and hope crept in. Maybe, for once, he'd said the right thing. "And I'm a momentous occasion?"

 He spread his hands, throwing in a little of Jepar's ghastly British accent for effect. "Most radiant lady, you are not so much momentous as earth-shattering. As occasions go, you are a positive leviathan.

 "Are you calling me fat?" she demanded.

 Oh god. Wrong thing to say.

 If there was one thing the girls of the circle had taught him, it was never to use the f- word around them. Nor to even imply it. Never, ever, ever, unless he had a fervent desire to spend his life singing soprano.

 Oh god, what should he say? It had been seconds, if he denied it, she'd take his hesitation as a lie - saying yes was a sure path to castration, and, and-

 She did smile then, and for a moment, there was a girl's mischief behind it. Before his eyes, the years dropped away, and he could have sworn he looked at a different face. "I'm joking, you idiot."

 "Oh thank god," he muttered in heartfelt relief. "So...last offer, Lise. One hug, guaranteed excellent quality, no refunds or exchanges allowed, going once..." He held up one finger. "Going twice..." Another finger, and he waggled them at her. "Aaaaand-"

 "I'll take it!" she interrupted.

 A snap of his fingers. "Sold to the beautiful lady on the sofa!"

 A little laugh escaped her. Maybe I'm not as bad at this comfort thing as I thought, he told himself.

 Cougar opened his arms, and she scooted into them, a warm bundle. She settled against his body, her head in the crook of his neck, unexpectedly quiescent. He was so used to thinking of her as resilient, solid as a mountain, and yet this vulnerability was as much part of her as her advice and her comfort.

 How tiring it must be to be so strong for the rest of us.

 He held her tightly, trying to convey with his gestures what he had no words for.

 You're not alone. Not while we're here, not while there can be hot afternoons and cookies and gossip. Trivial as they are, all those things fend off loneliness, fend off the fear that we're destined to drift through life with nothing but our own thoughts for company.

 And maybe I am arrogant and moody, but I can give a damn good hug.

 The stayed that way for long minutes, and Cougar found himself soothed; comforted by being the comforter. Bizarre, he hadn't known it was like that.

 "I didn't know this was one of the family talents," she eventually muttered into his shoulder.

 "Well, it doesn't exactly go with the hardcore reputation. Think about it: the Redfern family. Blood, guts...and hugs?"

 She snickered, and he felt some of the tension ease out of her frame. "Can I put a reserve on one of your left over hugs?"

 "Hmm, okay. But there has to be cake next time. Chocolate cake," he added hastily.

 She raised her head, and the Mona Lisa smile returned, full of a mystique he knew he'd never understand. But that was fine; as long as the smile was accompanied by sugary treats, he could live with the fact he was never going to understand this particular woman. "Hugs and cake? Sounds good."

 "Sounds great," he qualified, giving her a friendly leer. "Now, when everyone comes back, let's pretend you still don't know I have an inner teddy bear, okay?"

 "Only if I can make up a story about you doing something stupid," she said.

 He thought about it. "How about something outrageous but entertaining?"

 "Just like every other day, then?" Lisa asked lightly.

 "Damn right," he agreed, then leaned over to grab another cookie. Oh, they were good. He'd never had junk food on the enclave, and now he thrived on it in a way that would have made a nutritionist break down iin horrified tears.

There was a brief lull, and then she said in a thoughtful voice, "If you ever find your soulmate, she's going to be very lucky."

 The compliment startled him, and brought a smile to his mouth. He tended to hear more about his flaws than his good points, and it seemed like for once, he'd got something right. Maybe it would turn into a trend. "Thanks," he said.

 "Any time," she said casually, then added, "And don't talk with your mouth full."