Page 145 of Specters & Spotlights

“Just remember: step, turn, prick, summon,” Cici said. “That’s all. Step, turn, prick, summon,”

At the time, Elise had filed the words away under “not my job.”

Now, the words returned to her.

Step.

Turn.

Prick.

Summon.

Cici had leaned closer to the camera then, voice softening. “Once the summoning is complete, your job is to finish the scene. Let us carry the rest.”

Let us carry the rest.

Elise opened her eyes.

Backstage was crowded.

More than usual. Everyone who could be spared had come, tucked into the wings, behind flats, beside road cases, in every narrow gap the theatre would allow.

Candles glowed in careful hands. Crystals and herb bundles caught the light. Strips of paper marked with symbols trembled between fingers. A line of salt ran pale and thin along the orchestra pit, connecting the wings in a rough, imperfect look.

Nothing about it was elegant.

Everything about it was holy.

It was a circle made of backstage scraps and human stubbornness. Candle wax. Gaffer’s tape. Salt. Sharpie ink. Borrowed courage.

And choice.

That was the part that nearly broke her.

No one had been trapped into this. No one had been duped. No one had been forced to believe her.

They knew what she was.

They knew what waited in the dark.

And still, they had come.

And Elise was the bait.

Casper clutched a candle in one hand and a whole handful of crystals in the other, tears already spilling freely down his face. Jasper stood beside him with a lighter in his fist like he was prepared to fight the afterlife personally. Bex mouthed “You can do this,” while trying very hard not to cry. Mila and Romy, shoulder to shoulder, each gripped the same taper candle. Devon had his eyes closed, lips moving in prayer.

Nick stood at the far wing with Marco’s face on a phone in his hand, both looking terrified but smiling anyways.

Jen, sharp-eyed and serious, lifted three fingers from her headset.

Three seconds.

Elise’s throat tightened.

Two seconds.

She was not alone.