Spirited Read Online Free Page A

echoed through the high-ceilinged ballroom. Whirring surrounded us and, when Mr. Knightly’s machine sparked to life, giving enough light for movement, Rumsay’s guards blocked each exit.
    The phantasmagoria machine stood six feet high, four feet wide, and two feet deep. Constructed from solid oak and sporting intricately carved double doors, it was as unassuming as any French wardrobe, until Mr. Knightly dramatically swung the heavy doors open and steady gusts of fog trailed into the ballroom. Mysterious multicolored lights flickered from within the machine. A malevolent tune, haunting and dissonant, churned from its depths from a gramophone, cranking all by itself.
    Nora whimpered. She clutched at my gloved hand, while the crowd around us gasped and stared in wonder.
    Mr. Knightly took up position to work his macabre machine. He sat upon a wooden-backed Empire chair, mounted to the main platform. From our side view I could make out the terminal of buttons. Their soft green glow illuminated his pale, gaunt features as he flicked and pressed them with efficient fingers. No need for a mask to add an air of the supernatural to his visage, the man and his machine were both eerie and ominous.
    “Time for a trip to the powder room, I think,” I whispered in Nora’s ear, pulling my friend behind me and making for the exit at the rear of the ballroom. I felt Warren’s eyes on us, but refused to meet his gaze. I’d be back to help him once I had Nora safely tucked back in her rooms, or perhaps in the wine cellar. Yes, the cellar might provide more safety.
    Specters despised the cold, lacking the warmth of life. When on our plane they sought heat. They’d be attracted to Mr. Knightly’s machine with its red-hot lights.
    At the edge of the crowd, one of Rumsay’s footmen greeted us with a stern, “Guests are requested to remain in this location for the duration of the performance.”
    Nora retreated a step. “Let’s try another way.”
    “There is no other way,” I said. “Can’t you see they have all the exits covered?” I turned my attention to the guard. “In case your mechanical eyes fail you, this is Miss Rumsay, your master’s daughter. She is no guest. Now let us pass.”
    “Guests are requested—”
    “I beg of you, a nourishing beverage of some sort,” I changed tactics, trying my hand at appearing delicate and weak. Hard to do when one was twenty stone heavier than was fashionable. “I fear I may expire from the stifling heat.” I put a hand to my throat. “Though atmospheric, the suffocating fog that Mr. Knightly has graced us with is clogging my airways. I have a sensitive constitution. My physician would be most displeased.”
    The footman whirred in place, shifting on its base, but despite my theatrics, the blasted thing remained unmoved.
    “Get going, you blathering clockwork dandy, before I tell my father of your insolence!” Nora gave the guard a swift kick with her pointed lace-up boot. The guard sputtered and then whirled off to do her bidding. Terror had made Nora intimidating.
    “I was handling that,” I muttered as she dragged me toward an archway leading to the main hall.
    “Not from where I stood,” a squeaky voice countered as Jefferson slipped out from behind a marble column. “No wonder my sister remains unattached if she’s taking advice from you.”
    I put my hands on my hips, wondering how long the rotter had been skulking around the ballroom when he’d been strictly told to remain in his chamber. “You’re lucky I have little time to devote to you, Jefferson, or I’d challenge you to a duel.” I scowled at Nora’s brother.
    “Exactly what I meant,” Jefferson said. “Girls don’t go around challenging boys to duels, Amelia. It’s just not done.”
    “Isn’t it? How sad.” I ushered my charges through the first floor parlor and stopped at a closed door. “All right, down you go.” I pushed the door open. “Jefferson, your sister’s had about all she can