Spirited Away Read Online Free Page A

threw a switch on the wall. "Mind the grounds as you walk. It's quite murky out this eve and these outdoor lamps don't quite reach the bailey."
    Andi flipped on her torch and pointed the wide beam across the ground. Had it been a clear day, the late-evening light would still be bright. As it was, the heavy mist and blackened sky dimmed the light to near darkness. Eerie. She set her hikers on the stone steps to dry. "Thanks, Jameson. And don't worry. I'll be careful." Pulling up the hood of her weatherproofs, she then headed once more out into the drizzle.
    Wet, spongy turf squished under her Wellingtons as she made her way across the castle grounds.
    The heavy scent of sea life permeated the moist air, and the North Sea waves crashed against the rock base that served as Dreadmoor's foundation. God, she couldn't wait until morning so she could see everything in bright light. The place tagged a spot deep within her, unexplainable, powerful—an insatiable craving she'd experienced since the first encounter. The legend of Dragonhawk pulled at her, too.
    Sweeping her torchlight left to right, she made out the silhouette of the old kirk through the mist, where it nestled near the cliffs, along with a few other outbuildings.
    She knew, though, that Dreadmoor had a six-foot stone wall encircling the property. Had it been to keep enemies out, or keep those within prisoner? She'd read everything she could about the castle—what little there was in print—and filled in the blanks with what she knew of medieval history. But she couldn't wait to get firsthand information from the present lord. If, that is, he ever showed up.
    A crisp wind brushed her cheek and she paused. Turning in a slow circle, she swept the lantern light in an arc and stared into the dark, thick blanket of mist slipping over the bailey. "Who's there?" No response. "Hello?"
    Hairs bristled on her arms and she drew a deep breath. Another circle, this time faster, but the light landed on nothing unusual. Deciding to walk the strange feeling off, she headed for the oak.
    There, a few meters ahead and to the right, a large tarp covered what Andi knew to be the uprooted end of a large oak tree—along with the remains and hoard of armor. With hurried steps, she crossed the distance and stopped at the corner of the canvas.
    She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. "What?" Her heart slammed against her ribs, thumping the same erratic rhythm as the adrenaline rushing through her veins. Hadn't someone just spoken?
    Pointing her torch, she peered into the gray mist, following its beam to the end of the shaft. "Is someone there?" Again, no answer.
    With a deep breath, she turned back to her task. Following the line of canvas, she knelt and made sure each corner was knotted and secured over the stakes. The last one jiggled. She lifted the mallet from her belt and knocked the head of the spike into the ground until it sat flush with the soil.
    With a yelp, she jumped and turned. "What? Who's there?" A chill came over her, the sensation turning her insides frosty. The fine hairs at the nape of her neck stood rigid and a burning lump formed in her throat. Moving as fast as her Wellingtons would allow, she rounded the tarp and, finding it secure, took off, slipping across the sodden soil, back to the keep, her torch beam bobbing through the thick, murky haze.
    The sudden urgency disappeared as soon as she stepped into the glaring outside light implanted into the stone face of the castle. Andi didn't stop running until her hand rested on the iron knob of the front door. Pushing open the heavy oak, she turned and looked over her shoulder, expecting to find something, or someone.
    She found nothing.
    Jameson greeted her, his brows pulled close in a frown. "Dr. Monroe? Is there something amiss?"
    Andi stepped into the great hall and closed the massive door behind her. After a few gulps of air, she caught her breath. "It felt like ..." She reached down to unlace her Wellingtons. "I