Page 105 of Specters & Spotlights

“I think—” Elise hesitated, but she had to say it. “I think you summoned the Specter of my ex. You said my name in the spell, and he heard it. Came looking.”

Lark’s eyes widened. She clapped a hand over her mouth, horror dawning across her face.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “That explains so much.” She looked ready to throw up. “I’ve read about specters. I’ve never dealt with one. I thought he was just an angry spirit. I didn’t think he could… take someone.”

Graham stepped forward, his voice sharp. “You said the banishment went wrong tonight. What happened? Why did you call us here—just to clear your conscience?”

Lark flinched. “No. I mean—yes, I needed to tell you. But that’s not why I called. The spell didn’t just fail—it... backfired.”

She looked between them, wringing her hands. “I think I trapped him—partially. He’s caught in the binding circle I cast, but he’s feeding on it. On the magic, on the intent behind it. It’s fueling him.”

Graham paled. Elise felt her stomach twist.

Lark pressed on, breath quickening. “He’s still in the theatre. But once the binding breaks, he’s going to be stronger than ever. And he’s going to come for us. I know it. Wherever we go.”

Elise stared at her. “You’re saying you locked him in a magical pressure cooker.”

Lark nodded mutely.

Elise blinked. “Okay, but what do you want me to do? You’re the witch here.”

Lark winced. “I thought maybe you’d have... power. Influence. Or at least be able to ask him nicely to go haunt literally anyone else.”

She caught Elise’s expression and immediately crumbled. “I know. That was before I realized he was your ex. I didn’t plan for this. I don’t have a plan.”

“Cool,” Elise said, voice high with panic. “Love that for us.”

Graham tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, looking between Elise and Lark. “Well… how do we clean up this magical dumpster fire before it explodes?”

Elise stood frozen for a breath, the cold night air wrapping around her like a warning.

She was furious—at Lark for her recklessness, at herself for not seeing the signs sooner, and most of all, at him—the ghost of the man who had once tried to control her, and who was now doing it again, from beyond.

But beneath the rage was something else: fear. For Ellen. For herself. For the people around her who didn’t ask to be part of this.

She looked up, eyes steady. “I need to be the first one in there.”

Lark blinked. “Elise⁠—”

“I need to face him,” Elise said, voice firm. “I can’t let this thing keep jerking my life around like a spooky little puppet master. If there’s a chance I can talk to him, reason with him—hell, yell at him—I’m taking it.”

Graham opened his mouth, closed it again. Then settled for: “I’m not thrilled about this plan.”

“Duly noted,” Elise muttered. But she was already pulling her key card from her pocket. Her hands shook slightly as she swiped it through the reader.

Click.

The lock disengaged with a sound that felt far too gentle for the storm she was about to walk into.

She took a breath. Then another. Her fingers wrapped around the handle.

She turned to them. “Stay close. But let me try first.”

Then she opened the door.

Elise had barely crossed the threshold before her body went stiff.

It was like the theatre exhaled something wrong. The air carried a charge—like a storm brewing in the drywall.