Those Chains That Bind You

 It wasn't often Aspen saw Blue Malefici now. Since he had been accepted by Pursang and Blue had chosen to remain with Nightfire, their meetings had become rarer.

 At thirteen, Aspen was a scrap of a boy, barely beginning to grow into long legs and a face that was all mismatched features; a nose too long for his face, wide eyes that always looked vulnerable, no matter how much he narrowed them, and a pointed chin. He had the dangerous cuteness of a fox cub, and in those shifting, startled eyes was the promise of a future predator.

 Blue, on the other hand, screamed predator, despite the slightness of his frame. Aspen envied him, and respected him, and disliked him as much as he liked him.

 Disneyland, however, was the last place he'd expected to see Blue. But there he was: sitting on a bench studying the passing crowds. The corner of his mouth was turned down, and his eyes were intense. Aspen had seen that look before: Blue was calculating the value of their lives, down to the last dime, his contempt for humans boundless as his love of killing.

 Aspen bounced over, trying very hard not to lose his temper as the tourists buffeted him. Vermin, clogging up the roads, the sound of a thousand hearts pounding in his ears. At least here, next to the Haunted House, it didn't matter if his fangs gleamed in the air.

 They smelled good: cotton candy and sun-warmed flesh, and he'd bet no one would miss just one, just one sweet snack...

 Believe me, they will, cut in Blue. I'm not going to clean up another of your messes, Martin. His telepathic voice was incisive and impatient, hurting Aspen's head just a little.

 One...

 He caught the waves of disapproval radiating from Blue. Well, he guessed he owed him - after all, when he'd left that kid in the park, Blue had managed to make it look like a dog had savaged her. That snack had been risky, Aspen knew, but her coke-laced blood had been tangy and rich, all seasoned by that wonderful, dark despair. As her mind spiralled into death, he'd tumbled with her, glorying in the thrill, mocking her to her last moment.

 He loved the taste of despair. Even now, thinking of it made his mouth water. But he meekly sat down on the bench, drawing one knee up to his chest and hugging it close.

"Didn't know you were into all this vermin stuff."

 Blue glanced over at him. "I'm not. I'm researching a target. You reek of blood."

 "Not mine," he confirmed, and gave a happy little shiver. "My fifth kill. This one was good, it was so fun. He struggled, you know, like they do sometimes, and then he tried to run, which was silly of him, wasn't it?"

 "Considering your second target nearly escaped, no, not really," murmured Blue.

 "But he did give in very quickly after that," continued Aspen, unable to hide the disappointment he felt. The man had been limp as a dishrag, and he'd put his head in the noose with no further dispute. "He didn't even beg. And his last words were boring, boring, boring."

 Blue appeared to have missed the point. "And just where did you leave this unfortunate dullard?"

 "Oh. He's in there." Aspen gestured at the Haunted House. "He fits right in. Do you think his soulmate knows yet?"

 Blue blinked. "Did he have a soulmate?"

"Yeah. He kept crying for her. If I were her, I'd be glad he's gone. He must have been lousy company if he was always that miserable."

 "I rather think you caught him at a bad moment. One's own death can be like that."

 Aspen wriggled in the sun. He liked the feel of it on his cheeks and shoulders, like a rough blanket. "He kept calling her name, you know. He wasn't much good at telepathy - I could hardly hear him, and I was standing right next to him." He mimicked the man's voice. "'I love you, Kerry, I love you so much.' Man, love's a waste of time."

 "On the whole, I agree," said Blue, who was slumped in the shade, one arm along the back of the bench. "It has no place in the Furies." Disapproval rang in his voice.

 "It's got no place anywhere," argued Aspen. "It don't even taste good."

 Love was bitter as black coffee on his tongue: it gave blood a hard potency he couldn't stomach. The first time Aspen had tasted love, he'd been sick for days after. It was disgusting - an excuse for vermin to paw each other and pretend they had any purpose other than as part of the food chain.

 Idly, he wondered if it would wake him up in the mornings. Maybe if he caught some lovesick prey and kept it chained up for mornings - then it would have fear to sweeten it. But he wasn't good at keeping pets. His one goldfish had died when he forgot it needed food; and the rabbit had died when he'd needed food.

 "It's no revenge, that's for sure," agreed Blue. "But don't underestimate its power. People will do anything for the ones they claim to love. They'll die and they'll kill and they'll lie and they'll offer up everything they know, everything they are for the smallest mercy towards those they love."

 "Really?" he asked, fascinated. "You can do all that, just because of love?"

 "So I'm told. Certainly they'll die. I have yet to explore the others. It's one of Nightfire's most important lessons - love and its uses."

 "We've got 'knives and their uses'," said Aspen doubtfully. "And 'guns and their uses' and 'cutlery and their uses'. No love, though."

 The lamia snorted. "That's because Pursang doesn't think it important. Idiots. What better way to break someone?"

 "But what if you love someone?" he enquired, racking his brains to try and think how it might happen. "Like...if...if..." He gave up. "Well, you never know."

 Blue's scornful eyes raked him from head to toe. "You're the soft-hearted one, Martin."

 "I'm never going to fall in love." What a stupid thing to suggest. He didn't want anyone near him, he just wanted to watch something shatter in their eyes as he destroyed their hope, to make them hopeless as he...

 Well, he was away from that. He had the Furies now.

"If you love someone, then you'll keep as far from them as possible." Blue's glacial gaze was piercing, seeing through to the shadowy thoughts that were barely formed in his mind. "Love them, and destroy them, Martin. They will weaken you and you will hate them for it. And when you lose them, you will be broken and empty."

 "I might not lose them," he said defiantly.

 A smile curved on Blue's mouth, but it never touched those dark, malevolent eyes. "You will. If you don't kill them, the Furies will .We will punish you for your folly. Understand love, but don't be bewitched by it."

 "But how can I understand it if I don't experience it?" he said pitifully, his voice thin and high.

 A frown marred Blue's face, and there was a touch of bemusement in those crystal-bright eyes. "I...don't know."

 For a long time, there was a hush around them, and an odd tension humming between them. Only when a commotion began around the ride did they relax, immersed once more in the simple sureties of death; two boys untroubled by questions of love.

 At least...mostly untroubled. For now.