Marissa Day

by The Seduction of Miranda Prosper

  Corwin bowed neatly from the waist, as if acknowledging her point. “The term most commonly applied to ones such as Darius and myself is ‘Sorcerer.’ ”

  Miranda did not permit her glare to soften one bit. “And what exactly does that mean?”

  “It means we are born with the capability of shaping and wielding the power of magic.”

  A fresh wave of uncertainty swept through her, but Miranda forced herself to stand against it. “I would say there is no such thing, but that would contradict the evidence of my senses. So, I must accept it. You ... both of you”—she glanced at Darius, who was still staring out the window at the darkened lawn—“are Sorcerers. You are working magic spells. What has that to do with me, and what happened to me tonight?”

  Darius opened his mouth, but Corwin raised his hand to cut him off.

  “Are you familiar with the theory of electricity?” asked Corwin.

  Miranda inclined her head. “My father was a man of science. He read me Dr. Franklin’s papers on the subject.”

  Corwin’s brows shot up in genuine surprise this time. “Excellent. Then you are perhaps aware that the electricity may be both generated and stored.”

  “I have heard something of it, yes.”

  “It is rather the same with the power of magic. Like electricity, magic is a natural occurrence. A Sorcerer carries a store of it inside himself on which he may draw to work his art. But that store is small, and can be quickly depleted. Much larger supplies of magic exist in the natural world. Some places, indeed, are huge reservoirs of power.”

  “Then why does not the Sorcerer draw on those?” Miranda asked.

  “They do,” replied Corwin. “But tapping nature’s reservoirs can be difficult, and time-consuming. It takes great skill and sometimes many years to create the tools necessary to reach it.”

  “You’re talking of magic wands and so forth?”

  “I am.” Corwin nodded. “And such tools are not always reliable. They can channel too much magic into the wielder, or not enough, or the shape and nature of their making can warp the spell. So, most Sorcerers prefer to rely on their own inner stores of magic, or on a Catalyst.”

  “And what, pray, is that?”

  “A Catalyst is a person who can naturally attract and channel the magic of the world around them, as one of Dr. Franklin’s lightning rods channels the lightning.

  “You, Miranda Prosper, are a Catalyst.”

  Miranda hesitated, uncertain she could trust her voice. “Are you attempting to tell me I am not human?”

  “No. You are as human as we ourselves.”

  “You should perhaps have chosen a better example.”

  Corwin glanced over to Darius with something like a plea for help. Darius just shrugged and waved his hand, both gestures plainly saying, “You got yourself into this; you can get yourself out.”

  Corwin sighed with exaggerated patience. “You are perfectly human, Miranda. You are simply blessed with a particular talent. If you had been a born opera singer, or mathematician, it would be the same.”

  “No, I don’t think it would.” Miranda knotted her fingers together. “Is that why you ... came to me? Because I am this thing, this ... Catalyst?”

  For the first time since they had begun this strange conversation, Corwin stepped toward her. “I came to you, Miranda, because I was in need.” He reached out and took her hand, threading his fingers gently through hers. “I needed the strength I knew you could give me.”

  His voice was soft, and all humor gone from it. His hand against hers reminded her of all the other touches, the ones that had awakened and inflamed her. She swallowed and made herself meet his dark gaze.

  “Was the ... the ... sexual act ... necessary?”

  “Not strictly,” Corwin admitted. “But it is the swiftest and surest means for the Catalyst to channel power to the Sorcerer. It is also, by far, the most pleasurable.”

  His smile and touch remained gentle, but Miranda saw the fresh spark deep in his black eyes. He was remembering too—the way he had touched her and suckled her. Was he thinking of his cock thrusting inside her? She was, and of how very much she had enjoyed it.

  She pulled her hand out of his.

  “Why both of you?”

  Corwin glanced at Darius, who lifted one eyebrow.

  “Darius and I have been comrades in battle for a long time. He needed strength as much as I did.” Corwin smiled again. “And, I am not ashamed to admit, it was also because I enjoy it that way.”

  “You do?” Miranda kept her gaze on Corwin. She did not think she could stand looking at Darius at that moment.

  “Yes, very much. And I believe that you did as well.”

  Two of them, their hands exploring her, arousing her, mouths against her lips, tongues teasing her hard nipples, her hot pussy. Their hard cocks, in her sheath and in her hand . . . Oh, yes, she had enjoyed every moment of it.

  Miranda gripped the lapels of her dressing gown again.

  “Which is neither here nor there,” interjected Darius sharply. “What you need to know, Miranda Prosper, is that you are an unusually powerful Catalyst.”

  Corwin cut in. “When you were with us the first time, you should have drawn the magic from the blossoming plants, from the trees, and from the Earth even, and it should have channeled through you into Darius and myself. That is not what happened. Instead, you drew magic out of me, and you held it inside you.”

  “Nearly killing yourself and him in the process,” finished Darius.

  Miranda stared at the both of them. “Is that true?” she demanded of Corwin.

  Corwin shot Darius a warning look. “It is true,” he said. “The fire you felt in you, the pain and illness and all the rest of it ... That was the effect of drinking down my magic. Because you did not know how to disperse it, it stayed in you, raw and uncontrolled, and yes, it would have killed you had we not found you.”

  “And that I almost killed you? Is that true as well?”

  “What nearly killed me was my own folly,” said Corwin. “I was too eager to make love with you to check the precautions I had made against such an eventuality, as rare as I believed it to be. I behaved like a reckless boy, and for that, I am sorry.”

  Some of Miranda’s anger and fear subsided at this, but Darius folded both arms and resumed his pensive staring out the window.

  “So, you are telling me I am some sort of succubus, then?”

  “No. A succubus is a daemon. She drinks a man’s sexual energy to feed herself, and that will eventually kill him. What happened between us was an innocent mistake on your part, and a foolish one on ours.”

  He said these last words to Darius, and Miranda turned to see Darius’s reaction. For a long moment, Darius stood still, his face grim. Then he nodded stiffly.

  Miranda wrapped her arms across her breasts, hugging herself. She must think clearly. She must set aside her shock and disbelief, and all words like “perversion” and “insanity.” They would not serve her. She must analyze what Corwin and Darius said, and come to an understanding of it.

  She took a deep breath. “You said you were in a battle. Against whom?”

  “Ah.” Corwin sat down on the plush bench at the foot of the bed. “Now we come to the difficult matter.”

  A laugh bubbled up inside Miranda and she pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “After all you have told me, this is difficult?”

  “It is,” Corwin replied. “Because now I have to ask you—the daughter of a man of letters—to believe in fairies.”

  “Fairies?” repeated Miranda. “Little winged girls that flit about the bottom of the garden?”

  “Hardly,” said Darius. “Neither are they in the habit of granting wishes or riding cows dry or any other such trifling bits of mischief.”

  “The Fae are a race of powerful magical beings,” continued Corwin. “They live in a world of their own, but in ancient times there were gates opened between our world and theirs.”

  “Another
world,” she said slowly. “How is that possible?”

  Corwin spread his hands. “How is it possible that our world is here? Shakespeare was right, Miranda. There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in any one philosophy.”

  Miranda found her mouth had gone dry. She moved to the washstand and poured herself a cup of water from the pitcher. Corwin and Darius watched her in silence as she drank. “Go on,” she murmured.

  “Much of this history has been lost,” said Corwin. “But those who have studied it believe the gates were opened naively, by ancient Sorcerers who sought wisdom, and perhaps beauty, for the Fae can be astoundingly beautiful. By the time they realized their mistake, the whole Isle of Britain was in jeopardy, and they rushed to close the gates. But it is difficult to shut something that was never meant to be opened. Ever since that day, at times of great change, the gates shudder open again, and the Fae can slip through.

  “The first great invasion came in the time of Camelot. It was Queen Guinevere who put an end to it, though it cost her dearly. She was not able to speak of the reasons for her actions, and so was cried out against as a traitor to her royal husband, though he himself never turned from her.

  “The second came in the time of Queen Elizabeth. She and her Sorcerer, John Dee, were able to put paid to it then. He gathered to him the Sorcerers from all the nations of our island and they shut the gates again, it was thought for all time.”

  “But they were wrong,” said Darius heavily. “And we are paying now for their mistake.”

  “So ... you’ve been fighting an invasion? A ... a ... fairy army?” The words sounded ludicrous, but Miranda forced herself to squash her doubt. She had said and done so many impossible things since sunset, surely this was not too much more.

  “I wish it was an army,” Darius muttered. “An army we might be able to beat, depleted as our numbers are. This is worse.”

  It seemed to Miranda the room grew cold. All humor had vanished from the two men and their faces had both turned hard.

  “The right king of the country has gone mad,” whispered Corwin. “The prince, his son, is prisoner to lust and dissipation. Invention, machinery and riot are changing the whole nation. How could so much chaos fail to breech the gates once more? We thought we were ready, but our enemy has grown clever, and cautious. This time, they have come through in ones and twos. They whisper promises into the ears of greedy, mortal Sorcerers, corrupting our already paltry numbers and turning us against one another. This time instead of an army, we are fighting assassins who can strike quickly and fade away. We are fighting men and women who know all our strengths and our weaknesses because they share them.”

  “But why is it happening? What do these ... Fae want from us?”

  “Our lives,” said Darius. “That spark of ourselves that is the soul. They have none themselves, so ours calls to them. They long to warm themselves by it, but end up only smothering it, and increasing their own hunger for it. They bring us glamour, power and beauty beyond description, and they kill us with it.”

  Miranda looked to Corwin for confirmation and he nodded. “It is that simple, and that complex.”

  “And there are people who are aiding them in this?”

  Again, Corwin nodded. “Sorcerers are not immune to the promises made under glamour. If anything, we are more susceptible.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Power corrupts,” said Darius flatly. “And we are already powerful. Some of us believe we know what is best for ‘ordinary’ men and women. It is but a small step from there to convincing us we should rule, and that the lives of a few of those ordinary men and women are a small sacrifice for perfect peace and stability.”

  “And for power,” added Corwin. “For ever more power.”

  Miranda shuddered. “I find that difficult to comprehend.”

  “Do you?” The corner of Darius’s mouth curled up. “So, what did it feel like when you held Corwin’s magic inside you?”

  Miranda opened her mouth to say it had been hellish, but she stopped herself. That was not entirely true. At first, it had been amazing. She had been filled with strength and life. She was as great as the sky overhead, burning like a hundred stars. Nothing could touch or harm her, not her body, not her spirit. To feel so again, to feel so always ... that would be a true temptation.

  “What happens now?” she asked. “You have what you need and you will go?” She tried to speak the words calmly but a tremor crept unbidden into her voice.

  Corwin exchanged another long glance with Darius and once again Miranda had the unaccountable feeling of much more passing between them.

  “Ordinarily that is what would happen, yes,” said Corwin. Miranda tightened her jaw to keep it from trembling. “But this is not, even by our standards, an ordinary situation.

  “You are powerful, Miranda,” he went on. “The most powerful Catalyst I’ve ever encountered. If you want ... it is possible for us to teach you to how to use your gift. To draw and channel magic safely.”

  “To become our Catalyst,” said Darius gruffly. “He is asking you become our Catalyst for the duration of this fight.”

  Miranda felt her eyes bulge in their sockets. She was being invited to join them? To stay with them, learn more about . . . about magic, about sex, about these two powerful, magnetic men who stood with her now. Her mind reeled at the thought.

  “What if I say no?” she asked. “What if it’s too much and I do not want this?”

  “We can take it away,” said Corwin. “I fear we cannot heal your maidenhead, but we can . . . gentle the memories of how you lost it; give you a more ordinary and acceptable encounter with a more ordinary and acceptable man to hold on to. All memories of magic and ... us, will leave you and you will be free to carry on with your life as normal.”

  Normal. Miranda looked down at her own hands, which her mother called unalterably coarse. Her normal life was sitting on hard chairs in ballrooms watching her mother lay siege to every man who was available—and quite a few who weren’t—then going home to listen to Mother carp and snipe about Miranda’s inadequacies. To leaven this, there would be the perpetual round of calls and shopping and teas, with no purpose to any of it beyond filling the endless, gray London days.

  She looked at Corwin, and at Darius. What they revealed to her was exciting and enticing, true, but they also spoke of danger beyond her ability to imagine. If she said yes now, she would not later be able to turn back. She might be giving up her life and her sanity to escape from nothing worse than the boredom accepted by thousands of her sister spinsters.

  But if she said no, she would not see Corwin again. Or Darius. She would never know the feelings and sensations she had discovered with them during the night. She would never again take part in the wonder that she had been shown—neither the magic nor the sex. A whole world had opened before her, and she wanted to know more, to do more. She did not want to run back into that smothering place her life had always been.

  I will not.

  If it cost her life, then so be it. A short and purposed life would be far better than the longest life in her mother’s house could ever be.

  Miranda squared her shoulders and faced the two Sorcerers. “I am with you.”

  Seven

  Dawn was just breaking over the roofs of Mayfair as Corwin and Darius walked down the empty street. They had clothed themselves again in their evening wear, so that they appeared to be nothing more than two gentlemen strolling casually home from a late night out.

  Not that there was anything casual about Darius’s long stride. Darius had not once looked at him, let alone spoken to him, since they had snuck out of Miranda’s house, and Corwin could feel his comrade’s anger in every pore.

  Corwin sighed and glanced around the empty street. “So,” he said, pitching his voice low, just in case. “Are you going to tell me what the problem is?”

  This actually caused Darius to break stride and swing around to stare at him. “You cannot be
serious.”

  Corwin shrugged. “Let’s say that I am.”

  “You lied to her, Corwin.”

  “You would prefer I had told her that she was endangered because we failed to keep a decent watch.”

  Darius waved his words away impatiently. “I’m not talking about that. You used her. You let her believe you took her for love and need, and didn’t bother to tell her we’d come to this place to find her, and bind her if we could.” His fists clenched. “Neither did you see fit to tell her that the reason we were sent to find her was that Catalysts in London have begun to vanish.”

  Corwin found himself uncomfortably taken aback. “Oh, yes, and if I’d phrased it so tactfully, she would have fled.”

  “That is not the point,” snapped Darius.

  “It is the point. Stop and think, Darius. She was already terrified, and halfway to believing that she is something inhuman as it was ...”

  “She is. We are.”

  Oh, not again. “Stop it, Darius.”

  But Darius had already turned away. “What human being does as we do?”

  “Do you mean the magic, or something else, Darius?” Corwin asked impatiently, and instantly regretted it. “Darius?”

  Darius shook his head. “That does not change the fact that you lied to her. She now believes that we, that you, care for her.”

  “What makes you believe that I don’t?” Corwin sighed. We really are going to hash it out all over again.

  “Corwin, you were only at that ridiculous ball because we are under orders to protect the Catalysts we find and discover why they are vanishing.”

  Corwin shrugged. “These are not mutually exclusive things. We have found her. We will protect her. It so happens this woman we are bound to protect is lovely, brave and passionate. How could I see her and not care for her? How could you?”

  Darius made no answer and Corwin knew his words had struck home.