Page 142 of Specters & Spotlights

Elise startled, then let out a breath that almost became a laugh. “And that,” she said, squeezing Graham’s hand, “is another costume change calling my name.”

His fingers tightened around hers once before letting go.

“See you on the other side,” he said.

The words landed heavier than either of them intended.

Elise held his gaze for half a second longer, then turned and hurried downstairs.

The next costume was a cleverly altered dress designed for the lightning-fast quick change still to come. It was mostly Velcro and hidden snaps, barely more than a corset, overskirt, and sleeves stitched into suggestion. It only needed to last one scene.

She was halfway through stepping into it when Marcie appeared with a cotton swab and a familiar bottle.

Marcie raised her brows. “You forgot about the spirit gum, didn’t you?”

Elise mouthed a sheepish thank you as Marcie started dabbing remover along the lace at her temples, so the wig could be removed during the upcoming quick change without taking three layers of skin with it.

In the mirror, movement flickered.

At first, she thought it was just stage crew behind her. Then she caught the unmistakable shimmer of the Mirror Triplets, peeking around the vanity like they’re playing hide and seek.

Kevin’s voice drifted past the mirror, muttering something about candle placement and sharpie-ink symbols. Giggles trailed behind him like perfume.

Elise huffed a soft breath. Half-laugh, half-exhale.

Then the prickle of her tattoos sharpened. Not background noise anymore. A warning.

She murmured under her breath, just enough for Kevin to hear if he was still close. “Anything new?”

His voice was faint but steady. “Just flickers. Whispers. Nothing big.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Correct. It was not meant to be.”

Elise’s eyes lifted to the mirror. The triplets had gone still.

Kevin’s voice, when it came again, had lost its teasing edge. “He’s saving it. I can feel it.”

A beat.

“He’s almost fully here”

Elise swallowed.

Of course he was.

They were almost at the end.

She ducked into the wig closet and slipped her hand into the hidden pocket of the last costume she’d just removed. Her fingers closed around the photo—crisp, folded, dread-soaked—and the pocket watch talisman strung on a thin chain.

Elise tucked both items carefully against her palm and headed back upstairs, nerves simmering beneath her skin.

The next scene loomed: a fierce musical showdown with none other than Isla Fisher as Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Just the thought of it made her stomach twist. Nothing like verbally sparring with the most terrifyingly competent woman in the building while also preparing to summon the ghost of your dead ex-boyfriend into a magical trap made of salt, candlelight, and teamwork.

Theatre was so glamorous.

At the top of the stairs, before the lights shifted and the moment overtook her, Elise pressed the pocket watch and the folded photo into Lark’s hands.