Disclaimed

A/N: Times in relation to other books are my own approximations; unless it's a blatant error, go with it please.

*~~ Chapter Three: Relaxing ~~*

Roseclear lulled the human's senses so he wouldn't make trouble as she lured him into an alley, a suitable distance from the Harman store. The glitz of the strip didn't penetrate into there, and anyone who looked in would just see a woman and man pressed together. Not an uncommon sight in the city with a whore on every corner. She didn't even look at him as she set her hands on his shoulders, leaned forward delicately, and bit into his throat with a river of serenity, pleasure, and almost, very nearly gratitude.

It was always like this. It was the only time she ever felt truly at ease, when she was feeding. The only time she was pervaded by a sense of pure… contentment.

She was reluctant to let him go, but she knew a body drained of blood would attract unwanted attention. Not necessarily from the media, but from others in the area who would recognize it. So she stepped out of the alley and walked back to the parking garage where her car was.

Not looking left or right, she inspected her silver Corvette for signs of damage, and indeed, she noted that there were little scratch marks around the edges of the door. Whoever the vermin thief was, she thought getting in, he wasn't very talented.

Driving by the alley, she whispered into the mind of the human she'd fed from, forget… knowing he would, even without eye contact. Mixed blood could be good.

Roseclear was never sure if she loved Las Vegas, or was disgusted by it. It was truly a marvel of vermin consumption. Every building tried to outdo the other, every ad proclaiming more fabulous sights, every casino with it's own explicit theme.

She personally liked the one that looked like New York, though she'd stayed at Caesar's Palace before.

Coming up to the gates outside her house, she pressed the code into the little box and disabled the shield around her house to keep Night people out. She brought it back up as she pulled her Corvette into the garage at the back. She'd buff out the scratches tomorrow, she was too tired right then to do anything.

She walked up the steps to the porch in the back, and went through the door she never bothered to lock. Immediately, two huge dogs came bounding off of the leather couches with barks of greeting. She knelt down to greet them on their level, rubbing their ears and stroking their soft fur with a tired but loving smile. Hope and Demon, the dogs, wiggled with pleasure, their minds and hers merging from long practice to tell Roseclear of the romp they'd had through the house and yard earlier. They were French Mastiffs, and nearly knocked her down in their enthusiasm for her return, but she didn't mind.

With a final pat, she stood and headed for the kitchen, Hope and Demon bounding around her, the wood her kind hated and the high, high ceiling soothing her senses as they always did. She went through the swinging door into the kitchen, and was immediately accosted by a demanding meow.

She picked up the small black cat, rubbing that spot under her chin. Vixen butted her tiny head against Roseclear's chin, purring in pleasure as Roseclear did the proper thing and poured a bowl of milk and set it on the counter. She let Vixen down, and progressed to get two soup bones out of the freezer for the whining pair on the floor. She tossed them outside through a window, and Hope and Vixen nearly crashed their massive selves into walls to race around to the dog door in the next room.

Pouring a glass of dry white wine for herself—she loved the stuff almost as much as champagne—she took her purchases upstairs to her bedroom and work area.

Surveying the simple room with it's wealth of storage space and simple, white walls Roseclear felt the restlessness build up inside her. Before…. Before, her workroom had always been a place of exhilaration for her, the place where she was still a witch, without the secrets she'd kept for so many years. Now though, entering this room was bittersweet, filled with memories of what she'd been just a short while ago and, for all she knew, might never be again. She'd never before appreciated the currents that ran through the room, the signature of her power. Now she saw it, and it spoke to her as a reminder of what she'd lost, all in one ambitious play…

The forceful calling of Vixen from the doorway made her aware that she was bleeding where her nails had driven into her flesh as she hugged herself. She winced and left the room without doing anything with her purchases.

Vixen followed her to the bathroom, where she curled up on the counter next to the sink as Roseclear let hot water flow into the oversized, sunken in tub. She took a slow breath of the steam before adding the blend of herbs she'd been bathing in for the past few months, a mixture of ivy, cinnamon, bay and thyme, especially thyme, things for healing and enhancing. The bottle of holly, ginger and basil sat collecting dust on a shelf; she hadn't used her usual recipe for power and success for a while.

She let the warm, comforting scents of the room and the soft purr of her cat lull her and, for a time, Roseclear relaxed.

*~~~ Flashback, six/four months ago (shortly before/maybe early Black Dawn) ~~~*

*~~~ Hello, Father ~~~*

The room was dark. Dust motes hung in the air in the few places light came in. A man with shocking red hair and cold, predatory eyes sat in a simply elegant chair behind an equally elegant desk. The desk was devoid of any of the usual accoutrements except for a black telephone and a desk calendar. A date book lay open on the calendar, a black and gold pen was in the hand of the man at the desk. He was turned towards the curtained window, a sheaf of papers in the other hand and the handset of the telephone between his shoulder and ear. He seemed preoccupied with whatever was being said on the other end and what was written on the papers.

"Sylvia, the Maiden is on her way. She needs to be caught now." He was talking into the phone with a calm voice, but the look on his face, when he thought no one could see, was anything but calm. His fancy pen looked ready to break.

Roseclear stepped into the room, as silent as she'd been creeping into the expensive, austere Tudor style house. It hadn't been easy to get in, but still easier than it would have been if it had been one of his houses in the enclaves.

She wanted to know who he'd had decorate; the place was as cold as a museum. It would have been good for a house she wanted to intimidate people with—though nothing she'd ever want to live in. It didn't surprise her, though, that that was the style he'd picked for his personal retreat that nobody knew about.

Hunter still hadn't seen her, was still facing the window and preoccupied with his business. Roseclear was just giving herself a mental pat on the back when he swung around.

He stiffened. That was the only word she had for it. In anyone else, the shock would have been shown by, say, falling out of the chair. As it was, it afforded her some amusement that the infamous Hunter Redfern was looking at her with narrowed gold eyes and a clear expression of immediate dislike. Dislike… she hadn't thought he'd remember her, but maybe he did after all.

Hunter took in the young woman standing before him. She appeared to be somewhere between seventeen and twenty-five, though he couldn't tell exactly. She was short for modern standards, only five foot four at the most, but beautiful, in the same way the glint of a knife by firelight is beautiful. She had the pale, silvery blond hair of the Harmans, cut short to set off a face that looked familiar with a smug smile. She leaned against the doorframe as if she were in her own home, elegant in a loose wrap-around silk shirt, flowing black pants, and some sort of strappy high heels.

"Just do it, Sylvia. I'll talk to you another time. No, I may have to kill someone right now. Good-bye."

The woman was smiling as he hung up; before the receiver was even in it's cradle she gave way to a full throated laugh, and when she looked at him again the laughter still lingered around the corners of her lips. "Really, is this the way to welcome your daughter, Father?"

Hunter raised an eyebrow, his hands folded on his desk. "I do not know who you are, or why you have come seeking death by breaking into my house, but all my offspring are dead."

Roseclear smiled again. So, he didn't remember her after all. Understandable. The last time he'd seen her she'd been ten years old and they'd lived in colonial Boston. She sat down opposite him and crossed her legs. She looked sympathetic as she said, "So, Mother fed you that story too, did she?" She sighed, shaking her head. Then she made a face. "I am significantly less than surprised," she admitted dryly. She took off her sunglasses. "Do you remember me now, Father?"

He looked at her. Really looked at her this time. She had lovely eyes, tilted at the corners with long lashes, lined dramatically in smudged black. But that wasn't what struck him. What struck him was their color. They were the same glittering gold as his own… and then they were a deep venomous green.

They were a Redfern's eyes.

The rarest mark in his family, and the truest. They were the eyes of the first lamia herself, Maya. His youngest daughter had had the eyes. He'd had a wonderful fight with Maeve about her; he'd wanted to keep Roseclear and let her take Dove because of those eyes.

There was one problem with this though: Roseclear had been raised as a witch, had been forced to marry some simpering male witch and had a few babies then died unexpectedly in some accident. He didn't remember what it was; he just remembered the letter Maeve had sent. 'In case he wished to know,' it had said.

He sat back, elbows on the armrests and fingertips touching in front of his mouth. "Roseclear."

She nodded.

"Mind telling me what really happened?" he growled out.

Shaking her head she said, "No, I think I'll save that story for another time, Father." She was really enjoying this 'Father' thing. "So, I heard that Lily was… what was the term the young vampires were using? Vaporized?"

A muscle twitched in his neck. "Yes, your sister and the only of my children I thought worthy of the name Redfern is, apparently, dead."

"So sorry to hear."

"You watch it, girl. You may have surprised me once, and you may have proved yourself better than some witch, even by the mere fact of your continuing existence, but you haven't shown yourself useful and you should know that's all that matters to me. I'm still thinking about killing you just for getting in here, you know."

She was sorely tempted to laugh. She wasn't afraid of him; she was too powerful and too confident, too much like him, to be afraid. But no one laughed at Hunter Redfern, and she still had a business proposition for him. She mimicked his position in her own chair; despite all the differences of appearance, they looked remarkably alike. "Well Father, before you decide to dispose of me, why don't you hear me out?" Her cunning, smug smile was back. "I promise, it'll be worth your while."

He made a gesture, looking like a half-amused king granting an audience.

"I want you to have it arranged for a dragon to be found."

Two red eyebrows slowly rose to near his hairline. "A dragon?" he repeated in a skeptical voice.

"You know the old stories. It was the time of the rule of shapeshifters, with dragons presiding. They could change into anything at will, anything. They weren't limited to two forms like the other shapeshifters. And, as the witches learn and teach it, they were evil and cruel. So Hecate Witch Queen, mother of Hellewise and Maya, both of whom are my ancestors, I might add, gathered the witches and drove back the dragons. With the power of the most powerful witches in the world they only managed to put them to sleep. The most powerful witches couldn't kill them, and still the dragons wreaked havoc on the world. That is how powerful the creatures were. Are. They're still alive today, but sleeping in the deepest parts of the earth." She leaned forward, intense, all cool pretext gone. "Think, just think of the power just one, especially a strong one, would have in today's unsuspecting world. And think, that power would be in the hands of whatever witch," she smiled modestly, "raised the dragon, brought it back to it's place. And whoever made that raising possible, of course." At this she gestured eloquently to him.

Hunter sat back, watching her. He'd been right when he'd told Maeve that Roseclear would always be more a Redfern than a Harman. Her mind obviously worked like his… although he'd never thought of this before. Probably because that particular kind of power wasn't at his disposal. But because she was so like him, he wasn't sure he trusted her. And he had to make sure she knew what she was talking about before he got into any deals. "Why should I help you? Why don't you run to the other witches for help?" he asked.

She rolled her sienna eyes. "I can't go to the other witches for help because first of all: I'm dead. As far as they know, I'm dead. I was excommunicated by my own mother; I do not exist. They wouldn't help me, especially to awaken something that they are all taught was/is evil. They would probably try to bind my power… they wouldn't succeed, mind you, mother tried to do that, but it is such a hassle."

Hunter wanted to smile… cocksure, his daughter was. He wasn't sure he had faith in her confidence though. For now he spread his hands. "So what made you so sure I would help you?"

She gave him a look, out of cynical nightshade purple eyes, that said, You have got to be kidding. "Why, Father, you're more practical than the rest. I knew you would see this for the opportunity it is. I knew you would know what you were being offered."

He turned his chair to stare at the curtains again. After a few moments he asked, "How do I know you can actually do this? After all, as you pointed out, the spells of the most powerful witches in history are keeping them asleep."

"You don't just have faith in your daughter's talents?"

"I don't have blind faith in anything, girl. If you expect me to put a stake"—he smiled at his little pun—"in this, I want to know my efforts aren't wasted."

Roseclear finally looked offended. There was a tightness around her mouth, her eyes a frostbitten violet. "Fine." Slowly, like a curtain being lifted, an oppressive feeling flooded the room. A wall was removed that he hadn't even noticed the existence of until just then. It was as if the air had gotten heavier. You would half-expect to see currents, something tangible running through it. Roseclear had dropped all the shields that kept her self and power contained and hidden. "Name a task to prove that my abilities are up to par," she challenged with a sneer.

Hunter hadn't blinked as the raw power was exposed. But his mind had immediately started working. He had little doubt now that she could do what she claimed, but he may as well test her. From the look on her face, she would require a test now.

Without warning he slammed his power against her, a thought-bomb of sorts. She didn't even blink, just wrapped it around a bit of her own and sent it right back. But she didn't crash it, she instead did something harder; showing an ease and finesse that was impressive. She fed the power back into him, making him stronger than he'd be if he'd just fed. Twice.

She drew her self back in, sealing her power off from normal feeling again. That too was impressive; the kind of control she showed over that much proved her abilities far more than the mere display of power. Mere? Hunter hadn't felt anything like that in his long life, not out of all the Maidens to Crones he had known. He allowed himself to sit for a moment, and let his mind jog uncontrollably through the possibilities this daughter presented him.

Roseclear watched him as she walled herself back in; it had been a long time since she'd revealed herself like that, to anyone. It drew too much attention. But her father seemed to be thinking furiously, and suddenly a smile lit his face and he laughed. Roseclear's eyes widened; she knew then where she'd gotten her full throated, heady laugh. His mean gold eyes were glittering when he looked back at her. He seemed truly and genuinely pleased.

Well, you're about to deliver a dragon into his lap. Literally. Of course he's happy.

"Just tell me one thing." He drummed his fingers on the desk, the only betrayal of his new uncontained energy. "Why? Why do you want to do this?"

She was surprised, well and truly surprised. He had to ask? But she shrugged. "Ennui. It would be something new. Something different." She smiled mischievously. "And just think about all the trouble it could cause. Father, you forget, I'm powerful, and by many standards old, but I haven't been able to play in politics or amass any true power like you have, or even Lily did. As someone officially dead, and something of a rogue, I've been confined to the edges of the Night World." These were all reasons, but none of them were her true reason. Her true reason was, in some ways, much more innocent. And more selfish.

"Now," she smiled with white, glinting teeth. "Let's discuss my exact terms."

*~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~*

Roseclear opened her eyes drowsily to discover herself in a cold bath, with her nose dangerously near the water line. She sighed, realizing she was more tired than she'd thought and hauled herself up.

Wrapped in a red satin robe, she sipped the last of her wine as she entered her bedroom. It's rich red walls and opulent furnishings soothed her as much as the bath had, making her feel like her old self. The room spoke of her as a predator, something sinuous and sensual and confident. Even now, that was how she thought of herself, after she'd lost so much of who she was. But this was her core, and she wouldn't let it slip away merely because she was caught off balance. Even as weak as she was, she was still was more than any other witch since Maya would ever be.

And she wouldn't let any set-backs, including a Daybreaker's party, throw her off from achieving her goal.

Even if the name Iliana Harman teased at the edges of her memory as she fell asleep, losing the idea for the time.

*~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*