Marissa Day (20 page)

It was like a woman made out of unraveling strands of yarn. Sharp teeth filled its slavering mouth and its fingers curled into talons.

Miranda had no time to make out more details, because the creature opened its dripping mouth and dove, howling, down at them. Corwin threw himself sideways, dragging Miranda with him so she landed on the floor with him on top of her. Lightning flashed and the creature screamed. Corwin rolled aside, enabling Miranda to shove herself into a sitting position. Darius stood in the doorway, hands upraised, sweat pouring down his face. The creature was back by the curtained windows now, hissing madly. A horrible burning scent choked Miranda and she saw that some of the trailing, ghostly strands that composed the monster’s body were burnt black.

“Quick, Miranda!” cried Corwin, hauling her to her feet.

The creature screamed and lunged, this time straight for Miranda. Corwin swung her toward Darius and Darius caught her other hand. The creature missed, caromed off the wall, shrieked its outrage and wheeled in midair to face them.

Miranda grasped both Corwin’s and Darius’s hands and focused outward, seeking the sense of magic. It was faint, and far below, but she found it. She drew it in, opening herself as wide as she could to the magic and to the men whose hands she held.

Now!
Corwin and Darius’s voices rang in her mind.

The men threw up their free hands and a massive bolt of blue-edged white whipped through the room. It engulfed the creature, burning so bright Miranda had to squeeze her eyes shut. Still she saw red flame beneath her eyelids.

The monster screamed, but the horrendous shriek was cut off as abruptly as if someone had thrown a switch. The silence was deafening.

Beside her, Darius and Corwin both panted hard. Miranda blinked and slowly her eyes focused.

They were alone in an empty room. The dust covers were not even disturbed. The only evidence of the entire incident was the strips of rag tied to the bedposts, the men struggling to draw breath beside her, and the weakness in her own knees. Miranda desperately wanted to sink down onto the edge of the bed but the idea of touching the place where that ... monster had rested repulsed her.

Darius gave voice to her feeling. “Let’s get out of here.”

Without another word, they fled down the hall, and back onto the servants’ stair. They clambered down it, not bothering with stealth until they reached the cellar. A quick glance about showed them the tradesman’s entrance. Darius worked the latch and held the door while Corwin pushed Miranda through. The street was dark and empty, but they didn’t stop. All holding hands, they hurried down the cobbled street until they came to an alley that Corwin must have judged safe, because he drew them both into the shadows. There they all huddled together, trying to catch their breaths.

Even standing so close to Corwin and Darius with their warmth seeping into her skin, Miranda trembled like a leaf in the wind and couldn’t seem to stop.

Corwin laid his hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and willed herself to stand straighter. “And you?” she asked them both.

Darius ran one shaking hand through his hair. “That was ... unpleasant.”

“What was it?” she asked.

Corwin glanced up the street and grimaced. “Offhand I’d guess it was a wraith. A particularly nasty, though not particularly intelligent, Fae. It does, however, have an unfortunate taste for human flesh.”

“That was a
fairy
?” gasped Miranda.

“It was a wraith,” said Corwin firmly. “The Fae have many races and many forms. Some are beautiful beyond description. Some are ...” Corwin gestured toward the alley mouth. “Less so. In many ways it is the beautiful ones who are more dangerous.”

“Why?”

Darius raked his fingers through his hair. “If you see a monster, you will run, or fight. If you see something beautiful, you will go closer.”

“Oh.” Miranda closed her eyes and swallowed.
As you will if you hear a scream and are fool enough not to listen to your friends.

“You did magnificently back there, Miranda,” said Corwin.

Darius nodded in agreement. “Throwing a killing attack takes a great deal from a Sorcerer. I would not have been able to do it a second time on my own. Your power enabled us to throw the second bolt.”

“I could have gotten you killed,” Miranda whispered. “If not for me ...”

“You were tricked, Miranda,” said Corwin quietly. “As we all have been by these enemies. Darius first, then me, now you. That is not what’s important.” He laid his hand on her arm and looked steadily into her eyes. “You kept your head and your nerve. You used your instinct swiftly and surely. This is no small thing, Miranda.” He smiled and kissed her hand. “We both owe you our lives.”

For a moment she was certain he was exaggerating, but she glanced toward Darius, who nodded in solemn confirmation. It was almost too much to take in, and so she decided she would not think about it just now.

“Somehow I did not imagine victory would leave me feeling ... ill.”

“It is not uncommon after a battle. The body’s reaction to suppressing the fear in order to fight. Come, we need to get under cover someplace safe.” He glanced up and down the street, checking to see if all was clear.

A fresh panic surged through Miranda. “I need to get home. My mother ...”

“No,” said Corwin flatly. “You need to rest and recover. We all do. I’m not sending you back to your mother’s tender mercies in your current condition.”

“But ...”

“But nothing, Miranda Prosper. We’re going to my house.”

Corwin’s large, graceful residence stood on a quiet street in Kensington, not too far from Miranda’s own. It seemed terribly strange that this man with all his secrets could have been living less than a mile from her, and she had known nothing of it. It made her wonder what was happening in the other great houses of the London environs, and how many secrets the city held.

The servants were obviously used to their master’s abrupt comings and goings because the butler met them in the foyer, utterly unruffled by the disheveled Miranda being propelled through the door between him and Darius.

“Jacobs. We need food for three, hot and plenty.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the aging man with a bow. “I’ll get Cook started at once.”

“We’ll also need a room for the lady, and hot water for all of us as soon as possible.”

“At once, sir.”

“We’ll be in the library.”

“Yes, sir.”

Corwin and Darius marched Miranda up the sweeping stairway. Her feet made no noise on the soft carpets that covered the stairs and the dark-paneled hallway. Corwin opened a door on the left and led them inside.

As Miranda saw the room to which she had been led, she stood astonished, forgetting her pique at being so brusquely handled. Corwin’s library was like nothing she had ever seen. It was a perfectly round room stretching two stories high. A wooden stairway spiraled up from its center to the second level where a catwalk with an elaborately carved wooden railing circled overhead. The walls were lined entirely with shelves, and the shelves were lined entirely with books. A cheerful fire burned in the deep hearth behind a brass screen. The whole place was furnished with overstuffed sofas and comfortable chairs with convenient tables set between them.

Miranda had always adored books. Her father had taught her to cherish reading and knowledge. But he’d never been able to afford more than a small collection of his own. Such a room in a private home ... It was beyond anything she’d ever imagined. One could spend hours in such a room. A lifetime even.

“Do you like it?” inquired Corwin as Miranda spun around, craning her neck to try to see the upper level.

Miranda opened her mouth and closed it again.

“Good Lord, Corwin, you’ve rendered her speechless.” Darius selected two glasses from the sideboard and poured a measure of brandy into one and filled the other with sherry. “Sit down before you make yourself giddy, woman.”

With a gentle push, Corwin sat her on the nearest leather-covered sofa. Darius handed the sherry to Corwin, who handed it to Miranda, who took it without thinking, or glancing at it.

“You said you were wealthy,” she stammered. “But I never imagined ...”

Corwin chuckled. “Well, perhaps I overextended myself on this room a little.” His eyes wandered the polished shelves. “But to me there are few things in this world more precious than good books.” Although she could hear the pride he took in his collection, Miranda did not miss the way his gaze traveled to Darius, and to herself.

“Before you start enumerating your worldly possessions, we need to report to the captain.” Darius poured a second brandy and set it on the table beside Corwin before dropping into a chair beside the fire and stretching out his long legs.

“Yes, yes. Forgive us a moment, Miranda.” Corwin sat across from Darius. Darius pulled a small notebook with a silver pencil attached to it from his coat pocket and handed it over to Corwin.

Miranda nodded and sipped the sherry, which was excellent and a much-needed restorative. Corwin bent over the book, scribbling furiously. Miranda discreetly turned her attention back to the magnificent room around her.

Just as she had never stopped to consider how Corwin had come by his living, she had not stopped to think what his home would be like. She had gotten so used to the strange and the ... well ...
magical
aspects of these men, it felt jarring to see them doing such ordinary things as sitting in front of a fire, sipping brandy, and writing.

After several minutes, Corwin tore a set of pages out of the notebook, folded them into a square and cast them into the fire, and Miranda felt, absurdly, that what she had come to think of as normalcy around these two was restored.

“And now we wait.” Corwin snapped the book shut and returned it to Darius. He raised the glass of brandy to them both in silent salute and then downed a healthy measure.

Miranda rallied herself. It would not do to sink any further into the warmth and comfort of the room. “As lovely as it is, I cannot stay here. I’ve already been gone from the house for hours without explanation.”

“Surely that doesn’t matter,” said Darius.

Visions of the ledger’s red ink rose in Miranda’s mind. “It does if my mother chooses to turn me out of the house.”

Corwin actually looked shocked. “Do you believe I would abandon you, Miranda?”

“That’s not the point. My public reputation is in enough jeopardy that Mother may be driven to drastic measures.”

Darius lifted his brows to Corwin and set his snifter aside. “Miranda, none of that matters,” he said. “You’re with us now.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Miranda slammed the sherry glass down on the table so hard its contents sloshed across the brightly polished wood. “What am I to you? Your Catalyst, yes, but what else? Will you make me your mistress? Are we to formalize a contract for my ... services? Or is one of you going to marry me?” They were both staring at her as if she’d suddenly grown a second head, but now that she had begun to speak so forcefully she couldn’t seem to stop. “There’s nothing left—do you understand? Nothing! I
have
to get married now and Lady Thayer’s nephew is my only suitor, but he might be the enemy and I can’t ... I can’t ...” To her shame, Miranda burst into tears.

All at once Corwin was beside her, wrapping her in his strong arms and pulling her close. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “It’s all right.”

She felt Darius sit on the other side of her. A handkerchief was pressed into her hand, and Miranda wiped at her streaming eyes. When she was finished, Corwin folded her fingers around the sherry glass, replenished now, and urged her to drink. She gulped the wine, welcoming the clarifying heat that spread through her.

“Better?” asked Corwin.

Miranda nodded, although she felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Fear and heartache.” Corwin reached out and gently tucked one of her tumbled locks behind her ear. “That’s enough for anyone.” He took her sherry glass from her fingers and set it down, then took her hand in his. “Now, Miranda, I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say. I will protect you, Miranda. No matter what happens. I will take care of you.”

“We will,” said Darius firmly. “
We
will, Miranda.”

She looked up at Darius. His eyes were hard, but at the same time utterly open and honest. “Darius?” she whispered.

“You saved my life today. You saved Corwin. You showed a strength and courage ... I admit I doubted you. I doubted
this
.” He gestured to indicate all of them. “But no more.” He looked deep into her eyes. “You belong with us, Miranda. As a Catalyst, as a woman, as yourself.”