Page 99 of Specters & Spotlights

His smile widened. “Don’t tempt me.”

By the time she was finished styling the wig, the air between them was practically humming. They made quick work of the final wig accessory cleanup, Graham falling into the rhythm of her post-show routine like he’d done it a dozen times. He crouched down to retrieve a rogue hairbrush that had rolled under the counter.

“I swear these things have legs,” he muttered, tossing it to Elise.

“Stage brushes are basically sentient,” she said. “We just pretend we’re in charge.” Still, her gaze flicked over the supplies, just in case the bad-vibes hairbrush from the last stop had somehow staged a comeback. It hadn’t.

When the trunk finally clicked shut, Elise unzipped her carry-on and pulled out her warding kit like it was her travel-sized apocalypse prep set.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Time to reclaim my good vibes.”

Graham tilted his head, curiosity piqued as she stepped to the mirror. Her fingers brushed against the faint chalk lines of a sigil etched into the lower corner.

“This one’s new,” she said. “Cici sent me the pattern. Meant to amplify clarity and repel lingering energy.”

Graham leaned in slightly, squinting at the shape. “Looks like a rune. Or a backstage doodle.”

Elise smiled. “Little of both, probably.”

Next, she crossed to a tiny ceramic dish tucked behind a costume rack. It held a brittle sprig of lavender and a palo santo stick, charred at the tip.

“This one’s more sentimental than useful at this point,” she said. “From college. Cici gave it to me when we had a sleep paralysis demon roommate.”

Graham raised an eyebrow. “Literal or metaphorical?”

“Honestly, I’m still not sure.”

She scooped up a sage bundle resting near the doorframe, bits of leaf crumbling onto her fingers. And finally, with more reverence, she reached for the old pocket watch nestled on the corner shelf.

“This one’s Kevin’s,” she said. “His talisman. It keeps him tethered.”

“You mean the ghost?” Graham asked, eyes wide. “He has a talisman?”

“He used to own it,” she said. “Now it binds him to whatever theatre it’s in.”

“So if you take it with you…”

“He disappears the second it crosses the threshold to the outside,” she said. “Goes quiet. It’s like he stops existing until I bring it into the next space. Then he just… comes back, next time I enter a theatre with it. No memory of the in-between.”

Graham let out a low, slightly amazed laugh. “Of course Kevin comes with lore and luggage.”

Elise tucked the watch safely into a silk pouch. “Just don’t borrow it. Last time someone touched it without permission, a mirror exploded.” She shot a pointed look at Kevin, who was making a show of lounging like he wasn’t listening. He absolutely was.

Graham followed her gaze. “…Noted.”

With everything packed and her kit zipped up tight, Elise slung her bag over her shoulder and gave the room one final glance. The wig trunk was closed. The wards were collected. The air felt… lighter.

Almost.

She paused at the edge of the green room, ears pricked for the faint strains of piano she’d come to expect—a quiet farewell from the pianist in the orchestra pit. But the theatre was still. No music echoed from the shadows.

Her chest tightened unexpectedly. The pianist had always played them out. Not tonight.

Elise wondered, not for the first time, what made a ghost fall silent.

She turned toward Kevin, who hovered near the mirror with his usual wry expression. “See you in a few days,” she said.

He gave a half-bow. “See you in a blink.”