Page 106 of Specters & Spotlights

Behind her, the door clicked shut as Lark and Graham followed. Lark lifted a shaking hand and pointed toward the hallway. “He’s near the hallway. You know the one.”

Elise nodded once and took the lead.

A blur of movement—a sudden gust—and then Kevin shot through the wall at her side like a bat out of spectral hell.

“Why are we here again?” His voice was sharp with panic. “Elise, something is wrong—so wrong. You feel it, don’t you? You must feel it!”

His pocket watch—she was still carrying it in her bag. She held up a hand to calm him. “It’s him. The Specter. Lark tried to banish him, but it backfired. He’s here. Still trapped, for now, but getting stronger.”

Right on cue, she felt it—that awful drop in her gut like standing at the top of a rollercoaster. His attention. Focused. On her.

Kevin went pale—well, paler than usual. “Oh, no. No no no. This is spectrally inadvisable. We should leave. Right now. He’s too strong. And if he’s anchored to you, where exactly do you think you’re going to run, Elise?!”

Lark frowned. “Wait—who are you talking to?”

Elise opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Graham cut in gently. “Kevin. He’s... kind of like her spirit guide.”

Lark blinked, then looked around like she half-expected to see someone materialize in the corner. “Of course he is,” she muttered. “Why not.”

Elise turned back to Kevin, choosing to ignore the exchange.

She took a slow breath. “I’m going to try to talk to him.”

Kevin reeled back, aghast. “Talk to him? TALK? Elise, you couldn’t talk to him when he had a pulse. Now he’s dead and vengeful and about to be freely floating around like a raging Macy’s balloon—what do you think that’s going to solve?”

She winced. “Okay, fair. But I don’t see a better option.”

“‘Better option’ would be running. Very fast. Away.”

She squared her shoulders, voice steady as she walked. “We at least need to see what we’re dealing with.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the rest—the thoughts raging just beneath the surface, sharp and bright and terrified.

I don’t want to run.

I don’t want to be afraid.

I don’t want to let him make my life smaller again.

They reached the door at the edge of the house, the one that led to the small half-hallway near the front of the theatre.

Elise wrapped her fingers around the metal handle.

It was hot. Burning, almost.

She sucked in a breath and counted to three.

One-and. Two-and. Three.

She pulled.

The hallway beyond didn’t look like any hallway she’d seen before. It looked like someone had tried to remake reality with wet tissue paper and stage fog. It pulsed—not with light, but with some kind of... force. The walls shimmered and shifted like oil slicks underwater, and the edges of the space were blurred, as if reality itself was fraying.

At the center of it all, right in the doorframe, stood a figure.

She knew him instantly.

The height. The broad shoulders. The way her chest tightened and her breath caught the moment his eyes—if you could call them that—locked onto her.

Twin voids. Pure absence. And yet, somehow… gleaming. Smiling.