Page 39 of Specters & Spotlights

“She’s been in here a lot,” Marcie said, tone playful but not unkind. “Just saying—it’s not subtle.”

Elise gave a short laugh, more puzzled than amused. “I thought she was just being friendly.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she’s circling.” Marcie dropped her makeup kit with a thud.

Elise blinked. “Wait—what?”

“She’s persistent when she’s interested. And you? You’re exactly her flavor of challenge.”

That made Elise pause. She turned the words over in her mind, slow and cautious, like something fragile she didn’t want to drop.

She had known Lark was rebounding from something messy with Ellen. She’d assumed Lark was just... redirecting, like people sometimes did when they didn’t want to sit in their own silence. But this?

Suddenly, a dozen little moments landed differently. The lingering. The strange questions. The way Lark had touched that hair ribbon last night like it was meaningful.

“I’m just saying,” Marcie said, stuffing a rogue brush into a zip bag. “She likes a quiet girl with a bit of mystery. And you?” She tapped the side of her nose. “You’ve got haunted eyes and that whole quiet mystery vibe that makes people think you know everyone’s secrets.”

Elise managed a soft laugh, but her thoughts were spinning.

Was that really how people saw her now?

Was that how Lark saw her?

It was flattering, in a way. And unsettling. And, if she was being honest, just a little claustrophobic.

Kevin sighed. “It’s just so very Lark to cast someone in her personal rom-com without checking the availability of the lead.”

“I’ll… swirl on that later,” she said aloud, mostly to herself.

Marcie snorted. “Just don’t swirl too long. Karaoke waits for no one.”

Jen appeared in the doorway right as Marcie made her exit. “You coming with us now, or do you still have hair sorcery to finish?”

Elise held up the rain wig like it was a rare artifact. “This one still needs its turn in the dryer, and I haven’t even started the bobby pin evacuation.”

“Well,” Jen said, holding out her hand expectantly, “then at least give me the key card and the closet key so I can—” She paused mid-thought, then snapped her palm shut before Elise could reach for her bag.

“Actually, no. Bring them to the cast party.”

Elise narrowed her eyes. “So this is blackmail.”

Jen grinned. “No, this is insurance. Now you have to show up.”

With that, she disappeared into the hallway, laughter trailing behind like the end of a good scene.

Left alone again, Elise gave the wig in her hands a final once-over, then slid it gently into the dryer and closed the door. The hum filled the little room once more.

She took a breath, surveying what was left: half a dozen pins to collect, a bag of wig caps to tuck away, and a room full of her quiet little kingdom, ready to be packed down and moved along.

Elise moved through the wig closet with soundless intention, reaching for the small, worn box tucked inside her carry-on bag.

The warding kit.

Same bent brass clasp. Same scuffed corners. Same quiet promise.

By now, opening it felt less like beginning a ritual than closing one. A final pass. A thank you. A careful gathering of everything she had placed here on day one, when this theatre had still been unfamiliar and full of shadows she hadn’t yet learned by name.

She started with the tiny ceramic dish, chipped at the rim but still solid. It had cradled the remnants of a sprig of dried lavender and a stubby piece of palo santo, burnt down to a softened nub. She tucked it carefully inside.