Cougar hit the replay button on the answering machine for the third time. Exactly as breathy as it had been before, Aspen Martin's voice crackled on the air.

"Hi. Red. It's, um, been a while, I know, but I could use some advice. It's kind of to do with Chatoya, but not exactly, well, actually, I guess it is but...I really hate these machines. Yeah, so I'll be in the Blood-Rose Café round midday tomorrow if you want to help. Um. If not, I guess I'll just have to have coffee on my own. It's all caffeine, right? Yeah. So. Bye."

What a phone manner.

Red – he hadn't heard that nickname in years. Not since he'd been a child on the Satiari enclave, and it had annoyed him even then. My name is Cougar, he wanted to say. Fine, it is a bloody stupid name – could have been worse, though: my big sister would up as Ocelot, and last time I checked, Liger hadn't spoken to either of my parents since 1989, but...it's my name. Not Red.

The whole message smacked of an elaborate scheme, and he would bet he knew who was the puppeteer. His younger brother had never had as much subtlety as people credited him with: not if you knew just what a vile, untrustworthy and arrogant fiend he was.

So Blue wanted to meet him. Had he used Chatoya's name as a goad or a threat?

It didn't matter, did it? Either way, he would get his damn meeting.

Cougar couldn't risk any harm coming to Chatoya, and how bitterly that knowledge stung him. He had never thought that unrequited love could be used against him so easily, nor had he ever thought he would be so desperately jealous of his younger brother.

Somehow, despite all the odds, Blue had snared the heart of a certain dark-haired witch. His friends had tried to hide it from him, but he had caught the electric rustle of Blue's mind one morning, leaving Chatoya's house. And unless Blue was planning to spy on his and Lisa's windsurfing expedition, it was too early in the morning to doubt just what he had been doing there.

God, that had hurt. All morning, a tight knot had burned under his chest, and when he went home, he had sat in the living room, staring at the wall until night swept in, not knowing what to do with himself.

He had kidded himself that it would never happen; that even if she refused him, Chatoya could never choose Blue in his place, but he had been abysmally mistaken.

Just another mistake, piling up like flowers at a funeral.

~*~

The café was warm, at least, and the proprietor had already put up his Christmas decorations, despite the fact it was still November. Blasted optimists.

Aspen was easy to spot; everyone had given his table a wide berth. News of his attempts to become a reformed and stable member of society had obviously not spread to the majority of Ryars Valley. The dark head was bent over his mug – he seemed to be inhaling the steam, his mismatched eyes half-shut and a positively idiotic grin on his face.

Cougar sat down with a thump, feeling it was unfair for anyone else to enjoy life when he was feeling so miserable about it. "Stop looking at that cup like you've just seen God in it."

The lamia started and dunked his own nose in the mug. His yelp made everyone look over to see Aspen with a hand clapped over his undoubtedly burnt nose. "You might have warned me," he said in a muffled voice. "That coffee's piping hot."

"Hey, if you weren't communing with your coffee, you'd have seen me come in."

"How does it look?" Aspen asked anxiously as he lowered his hand. His eyes crossed in a brave effort to examine the end of his own nose, which was a stunning shade of tomato red.

Cougar tried hard to control his amusement. "If you're really lucky, you'll bump Rudolph off the top of Santa's list this year."

Aspen stuck out his tongue.

Enough small talk. He rarely saw Aspen so relaxed in a crowd, which meant that the lamia was sure that someone just as dangerous had an eye on proceedings. Cougar could only think of three people off-hand who beat Aspen for sheer homicidal creativity: the first was dead and the second had vanished, which meant that the third was here somewhere.

"All right, where is he?" He hadn't meant to snap out the question, but his resentment got the better of him.

Aspen tried to look guileless. It didn't work. "Where's who?"

"Satan's only living spawn. For some reason, you're a lot less edgy when he's about." Cougar didn't understand it. Blue was just as likely to take his gory desires on his family and acquaintances as he was on strangers – more so, perhaps.

A frown flitted over Aspen's face. "Doesn't that make you Satan's step-son?"

"What?"

"Well, if he's Blue's father, though he's not, you know - I met Blue's father, and he said his name was Dios – then you must be-"

He'd forgotten what talking to Aspen could be like. "Enough. I was being flippant."

"I was being logical. I'm good with logic," said he who was notoriously without logic. "Tam says so."

Tam's lying, thought Cougar, but didn't say it aloud. It would have been like kicking a fluffy little kitten. "Fine, fine. Where's Blue?"

"Here."

Perfect timing as ever; Cougar didn't bother to turn around. As it was, the mere sound of that rich, cold voice set his teeth on edge. With it came a stab of jealously that he fought to quell. He didn't want Blue to have more leverage against him.

Blue sat down. Cougar stared.

"What the hell happened to your hair?" he asked, shock eclipsing even his hatred.

It was red. Bright, screaming fire-engine red, made even more intense by his marble-white skin. Cougar had grown used to the fact that through a genetic quirk and a bit of witchcraft, his brother had the kind of hair usually reserved for the Cookie Monster. Seeing it a different colour was unsettling in a way he couldn't quite define.

"I dyed it," his younger brother replied, lacing his hands behind his head. His eyes, at least, were still the same; that flaring, fathomless blue that arched away like the promise of a thousand tomorrows. And they still held the same cool scorn.

"I thought you had it witched," put in Aspen, who didn't seem at all startled by this turn of events.

"That too." Blue yawned, his back arching like a cat. A girl behind him was watching , and the appreciation in her eyes made Cougar want to warn her to run and keep running, just in case Blue decided to make a toy of her. Hell, to run until her feet bled and her bones grated on the ground, and even then, she might not be safe enough.

"What's it in aid of?" was all he said, sending a mental jab at the girl. Blue took an interest in people who took an interest in him, and she was just a kid.

"I was feeling festive."

Behind him, frowning, the girl got up. He felt a small twinge of relief. I couldn't save Toya from his grasping hands, but I can save you. Small consolation, though.

"Festive," he repeated dourly. "Did the Ghost of Christmas Future come a-knocking?"

Aspen snorted. "You're kidding, right? Haven't you ever spent Christmas round Blue?"

As it happened, he hadn't. Christmas was a human festival, and it had had no place on the enclave. Cougar had only found out Christmas existed when he came to Ryars Valley. For that matter, Blue must only have discovered it a few years ago.

But he refused to believe that Blue saw any value in a season wrapped up in gaudy paper and sparkly tinsel.

"I mean, you walk into his house, you'll go blind from the light bouncing off all the tinsel," continued Aspen. "And man, that Christmas tree could give a hooker some tips on tackiness."

"Thanks for that incredibly inappropriate analogy," Cougar put in bitingly. "But I find it goddamn unlikely that the Demon Fury turns into the Christmas Fairy."

"Well, I don't have a wand," put in Blue. "But I can do some extremely interesting things with a length of fairy lights. Our clientele expect something a little more...flashy at this time of year."

He should have known. Hang on...had that been a joke? No. No way.

"Well, I didn't think it was possible," Cougar said with forced brightness, "but you look even more freakish than usual. Congratulations. Now your victims can die safe in the knowledge that even if the real police don't catch you, you'll be hunted down by the fashion police."

"You know," Aspen said dreamily, "I don't think they exist. I wore this pink furry coat once, to see if they'd come and get me, but they didn't. It was so disappointing."

Despite himself, Cougar had to ask. "Why did you want the fashion police to get you?"

"Well, they're pretty recent and they're notorious. But people always talk as if you don’t see them, which means they must be great at camouflage, so I thought, you know, they might give me some tips."

Cougar and Blue's eyes met, gold and blue for once in perfect accord.

"There are no words," groaned Cougar. "Aspen, they're not real."

The lamia's face fell. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. And for the record, Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are also fictional."

Aspen waved a hand. "Oh, I know. Beats me how anyone can believe something so crazy."

Cougar gave up. Aspen's brand of common sense was distinctly uncommon. "I take it you don't actually need any advice."

The strange eyes lit up, one a deep holly-green, the other black as ink. "No, I do! I'm doing my Christmas shopping, you see-"

"Already?" he said.

"I don't like crowds," supplied the lamia.

"What Aspen means," interposed Blue, his voice as smooth as liqueur, "is that last year, someone trod on his foot in the mall and he interpreted it as a personal attack. I believe the gentleman in question still limps."

It sounded about right. "Okay, but what's this got to do with me?"

"Well, you gave me such great advice on Tam's birthday present..."

Cougar nearly choked on his coffee. "Tell me you know I was being sarcastic," he said, staring into those wide and trusting eyes. "You've known Blue for years, how can you not get sarcasm?"

"But he's always like that," Aspen pointed out reasonably. "He's not like other people. He's a bit, you know..." He cast a quick glance over at Blue, who was staring out of the window, affecting deafness. The lamia put one hand to the side of his face and mouthed, "...special."

Cougar was torn between laughter and screams of wrath. "Let me get this straight. So when I said 'Women love lingerie. And Tam looks like she's got a kinky streak a mile wide, why not try something with feathers and glitter – hell, make it *all* feathers and glitter', you actually went ahead and bought..."

Aspen nodded vigorously.

Tamara Slone had always given Cougar the impression she considered anything more than chaste kiss on a par with outright whoredom. God, he wished he'd seen her face when she opened Aspen's present.

"She really liked it," the lamia said, leading him to believe either he'd got Tam Slone very wrong, or she was a good enough liar to fool Aspen. "Her mother wasn't so happy."

"I can imagine," he murmured.

One eye gleamed a crocus yellow, while the other moved into a dreamy purple. "Anyway, yeah. I want to get Chatoya something for Christmas, and Tam says I have to learn to buy good presents on my own, so I thought..."

The mere mention stabbed him. Why don't you ask Blue? he wanted to snarl. He's the one who sneaks into her house every day, yeah, and don't think I don't know about it, don't think it's just his guilty, sordid secret.

All he said was, "You thought wrong."

Aspen's face crumbled. "But...I mean, you know her better than anyone."

In the reflection on the windowpane, Cougar could have sworn two blue lights flashed. He hoped that remark had bothered Blue, he hoped it had bothered him so bloody much he'd leave and never come back.

"Please?" Aspen's expression was so guileless, his voice so low and hesitant, that Cougar had the feeling he was either going to break down crying or go berserk if he refused. Neither of those alternatives appealed.

Fine. If he had to, he had to. "She likes silver jewellery," he mumbled grudgingly. "Nothing chunky – pretty things, and she likes purples and whites. Tasteful stuff, Aspen, okay? Try The Carat Patch down the road. Keep it minimal. None of this bling crap. Last time I spoke to her, she said she wasn't going out looking like she'd mugged 50 Cent."

A blazing smile lit up Aspen's face. He had to admit, normal life seemed to be doing Aspen good. He'd lost a little of that gauntness, and the shadows under his eyes seemed paler. And he was much less spontaneously violent. That was always good. Cougar preferred to order coffee without having to ask for a plastic cup in case he got hit on the head with it later.

"And are you just here to scare the customers, or did you actually want something?" Whatever it was Blue wanted, he wouldn't get it. Cougar was all out of charity.

"The coffee is mediocre at best, brother. Rumour, however, has become rather interesting. It tells me you're an Old Soul."

Cougar couldn’t read anything in that icy-pale, proud face. "Maybe."

"It seems some people really do never learn. K'Shaia believes that you have knowledge of an old spell they want. They have asked me to ensure your cooperation-"

Cougar opened his mouth, and a bolt of pain shot through his head, electric-blue and jagged. No need to ask the source. Eyes watering, he glared.

"-and of course, I told them they'd have to nail you to a wall before they got anything approaching cooperation."

The reminder knifed him; Blue had done exactly that. He tried not to think too hard on those days spent cooped up in that cave, dying. Sometimes, he was unsure that he had lived – maybe he had drifted away under the weight of that black despair, becoming a mere ghost moving in an endless dream.

"One way or another, they will have what they want. If you have a shred of sense, you'll negotiate with K'Shaia for your life, or they will take it from you." Blue's voice was absolutely indifferent, even a smidgen bored. "I'd prefer to have the pleasure myself. And if you enlist my witch's aid in solving this problem..."

His eyes were cold and older than they had any right to be – in the slick, boundless void that lay there, Cougar saw the utter mercilessness of the monster. And he looked away, detesting himself for it.

She is not yours, he thought fiercely. She shouldn't be.

"I won't hurt you," that soft, drawling voice continued. "I will hurt her."

When he looked up, Blue had gone, and Aspen's face was full of pity.

Shaken by the threat, he thought no more on Blue's appearance. And when, in January, he saw Chatoya wearing silver and amethysts, gleaming on her wrist and at her throat, he thought again on that meeting: yet never did it occur to him that Blue or Aspen's motives had been anything other than transparent.

Later, he would learn that had been a grievous mistake.