Page 133 of Specters & Spotlights

She wasn’t the only one. A few others who’d been lingering downstairs—techs, swings, ensemble—poured into the green room, drawn by the scream and the silence that followed.

Elise reached the stairwell just in time to see Nick descending, carrying Lark in his arms. Graham followed close behind, nearly matching his pace, a hand braced against the railing as if ready to catch them both.

Lark’s eyes were open, glassy and wide. Her face was pinched and pale, limbs curled inward like she was trying to make herself smaller. Nick didn’t stop. He moved like a current, weaving through the green room and lowering her gently onto the couch.

Elise pushed through the growing ring of people, heart thudding louder than the voices around her.

Jen appeared moments later, slipping through the crowd with forceful precision. “What the hell happened? Is she alright?” she asked, kneeling by the couch. Her voice was steady, but her hands hovered, uncertain whether to reach out or hold back.

Lark gave a small, pained nod—but her eyes locked on Elise’s, wide with something deeper than fear.

“He knows what we’re planning,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “He’s fighting back.”

Lark’s words hung in the air, were still reverberating through the green room when Nick cleared his throat.

“I saw it,” he said. “From backstage.”

Everyone turned toward him.

“I was behind the flats near stage left. I had a clear view of the Collins set from behind.” His voice faltered. “She stepped through the door from onstage and slammed it just fine. But… the second the door slammed, something changed. It was like… something underneath the platform moved. Like a shadow peeling away from the floorboards like it had been waiting there.”

Elise felt something sharp and cold flicker up her spine. Myrtle’s disembodied voice slid into her awareness, whisper-thin and urgent: “You’ve been marked. He’ll keep coming. You’re running out of time.”

Nick continued, slower now. “It rose up. Fast. And then it grabbed her. I mean, physically grabbed her. It looked like it pulled her straight down through the platform. I heard her scream—and then the thud. She didn’t just fall. She was dragged.”

Gasps fluttered around the room.

Lark’s fingers curled into the armrest. Her eyes were glassy, but clear. “I felt hands,” she murmured. “Cold, like ice.”

Kevin, hovering dimly behind the others, looked almost transparent now—but his gaze had sharpened to a fine, haunted point.

“That platform’s solid,” Jen said, quietly. “There’s no trap door.”

“I know,” Nick replied. “That’s what’s messing with me.”

Jen was crouched beside Lark, her hands moving with the practiced precision of someone who’d dealt with more backstage injuries than she could count. She gently pressed along Lark’s ankle, her face growing tighter with each wince.

“It’s already swelling,” Jen murmured, reaching for an ice pack from a nearby first aid kit. “Lark, can you move your toes?”

Lark tried, and grimaced. “Barely.”

Elise knelt nearby, already seeing the truth in the way Lark’s foot looked—pale, puffed, and angry. There was no way her character shoes would go back on, even if she could stand.

Something cold and heavy settled in Elise’s chest.

Jen looked up and gave a small shake of her head, confirming what Elise already knew. Lark wasn’t going back onstage tonight. Maybe not for days.

Lark caught Elise’s eye and gave her a look that was equal parts pain and guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

Elise didn’t know whether the apology was for the injury, or for everything that came before it. Either way, it hit her like a punch to the ribs.

Somewhere behind her, a bulb buzzed and dimmed, casting flickering shadows across the floor. Elise didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to.

Jen straightened, her expression sharpening with the clarity of someone stepping into crisis mode. “Okay,” she said, voice brisk. “We need options. Let’s think this through.”

She started pacing in a tight circle. “The swing’s not ready. She’s never gone on for Elizabeth, not even in rehearsal. It’d be chaos.”