Something Strange and Deadly by Susan Dennard Read Free Book Online Page B

years older than me. He had red dents on his face from the goggles, and his formerly bulbous eyes were now normal and entirely too predatory.
    He folded his arms over his chest. “You’ve ruined my experiment.”
    I took a weary breath, lifted my hands, and purred, “I’m truly sorry, sir.”
    He wrinkled his nose. “Why are you talking like that?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œLike you’re a kitten.
    â€œI thought it might calm you.”
    â€œI don’t need calming,” he snapped. “If you’ll just leave, that’ll take care of everything.” He pointed to the door. “There’s the exit.”
    I blinked. Part of me wanted to flee his short temper and take refuge in well-bred manners. But another part of me wanted to let my indignation loose. I hadn’t come all this way to let some green-eyed, scruffy-faced boy stand in my way.
    Indignation won. “Now see here, I’ve come to see the Spirit-Hunters.” I jabbed my parasol to emphasize each word. “I won’t leave until I speak with them.”
    â€œWhat would a lady”—he drew out the word like “laaaay-dee” and waved in my direction—”possibly need the Spirit-Hunters for?”
    â€œThat is none of your business.” I pushed my shoulders back, bristling at his snooty superiority. “I will speak with Mr. Boyer and Mr. Boyer only.”
    â€œIs that so?” He rocked his weight onto his heels and examined me from head to toe. My face burned under the scrutiny.
    He stepped close to me. I had to roll my head back to see his face—he was at least half a foot taller—and he gazed down with barely concealed distaste.
    â€œI have grave dirt to sweep,” he said, “so if you’ll be stayin’ around for Mr. Boyer, could you at least stand somewhere else?” He gripped me by both arms and pushed me backward out the door. I was so shocked to be touched I couldn’t even protest. All I could do was skitter back where he directed. Even if I’d wanted to stop, my eyes were locked on the very near and very disturbing open collar and exposed throat.
    With his hands still planted on my arms and with his lips curved in a satisfied grin, he drawled, “I’m Daniel Sheridan, by the way.” He said it so casually, as if all introductions were preceded by manhandling. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss...”
    I twisted free. The rascal. The scalawag. I gave him my haughtiest dragon stare. “I am Miss Eleanor Fitt of the Philadelphia Fitts.”
    He flashed his eyebrows and doffed an imaginary hat. “Why then, you’re practically royalty.” He whirled around and strode back into the lab. The door slammed shut behind him.
    I stood outside the lab. My shoulders and neck were locked with fiery rage, and I felt as if flames might spew from my fingertips and eyeballs.
    Royalty? Humbug! I should have quipped, “And that makes you my subject” or “It’s Queen Eleanor to you” or any number of responses more glib than my furious silence.
    â€œOh dear,” said a rich, baritone voice behind me. “I told him to keep his temper in check.”
    I spun around and found my face two feet from the buttons and collar of a black frock coat. I angled my head slowly up and met the speaker’s honey-brown eyes. He was the most elegant young gentleman I’d ever seen. His suit was impeccably tailored, a slick top hat sat upon his head, and his dark skin seemed to glow from within.
    â€œMisyeu Joseph-Alexandre Boyer,” he said with a bow. “At your service.”
    I opened and closed my mouth. My composure was thrown at how unlike Daniel this man was.
    Joseph opened his hands in a graceful apology. “Please forgive Mr. Sheridan. I am afraid he works better with machines than with people.” He spoke with such poise and his movements were so refined that all I could do was gawk. He