Page 128 of Specters & Spotlights

“Kevin,” she said softly. “He’s here. Barely.”

“I’m still here,” his voice answered, almost disembodied.

She swallowed. “You’re worse.”

He offered the ghost of a grin. “Fading dramatically. How on-brand.”

“I don’t think you’ll last another night,” she said, her voice catching.

“Neither do I,” Kevin admitted.

It was quiet for a moment. The kind of quiet that crept in and stayed.

Graham looked at Elise. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” she said, her eyes burning, “the spell has to work. Tonight.”

Word had clearly spread. Probably thanks to Jen, who operated with the efficiency of an air traffic controller and the tactical ruthlessness of a wedding planner.

When Elise and Graham returned upstairs, the backstage halls were already humming. People moved with purpose. Crew members buzzed past with clipboards and zip ties. Even the actors who usually slept through call were already warming up.

Nick had arrived last, dragging a duffel bag behind him and squinting like he hadn’t slept in a day. His curls were smushed under a hoodie. He still grinned the moment he spotted Elise.

“Sorry I took so long,” he called as he approached, “but apparently not all of us are allowed to rebook our flights at a moment's notice.”

Graham passed him with a clap on the shoulder. “Leading man perks. Comes with the cravat.”

“But I wear the cravat sometimes, too,” Nick muttered in mock outrage.

The wig closet became command central—half staging area, half ritual prep zone.

Volunteers filed in and out—placing candles behind wing flats, brushing salt in long, deliberate lines across doorways. Casper moved like a ghost himself, tucking tea lights behind set pieces with surgical precision. Ed just nodded, like he’d seen stranger things.

The orchestra whispered to each other in the pit, rehearsing the newly added cues like they’d always been there.

Marcie arrived in a flurry of eyeliner and energy. “Did I hear something about sigils?”

Elise handed over the paper stack and two Sharpies. “Red for power, black for protection.”

“Perfect,” Marcie said, flipping through the pages like a cryptic score. She grabbed Jasper on her way past, muttering something about ‘go find some glitter, we’re gonna need flair.’

The closer they got to curtain, the stranger things became.

Lights flickered overhead, not in rhythm but in warning. Cold spots moved through the dressing rooms. Whispers threaded through the hallway vents like forgotten songs.

Elise could feel eyes on her. Always.

But no one ran. No one panicked.

Instead, people stayed close. They walked in pairs. They carried flashlights. They looked out for each other.

Jen appeared again, this time all confidence and black jeans.

“Gaffer tape holds,” she said. “Steve and I tested it. Ten seconds tops.”

Then Nick returned, holding out a small tin box like it contained treasure.

“I took up a collection,” he said. “Eight lighters and a torch from props. We’re covered for candle ignition.”