Page 79 of Specters & Spotlights

She didn’t type the name she was thinking. She didn’t need to. Some names don’t need air to take up space. Cici would know the kind of familiar Elise meant.

There was a pause on Cici’s end, longer this time. Then:

Got it. I’ll dig. I’ll be ready tonight. Love you.

Elise felt the thrum of the show picking up around her—the muffled swell of music, the rustle of velvet, the echo of footsteps. But her focus stayed locked on that last line.

Love you.

Sometimes, the simplest spells were the strongest.

The green room always felt smaller at intermission—shoulders brushing, costume skirts fanning, water bottles thudding onto every available surface. But tonight, the space seemed tighter still. Not because of bodies, but because of absence. Ellen’s name wasn’t spoken, not outright. But it sat in the corners of the room like a folded note no one wanted to open.

To break the silence, Nick dropped into the seat beside Elise and whispered, “This theatre haunted, too, or are we finally getting a ghost-free venue?”

Heads turned.

“Oh, it’s haunted,” Elise said, brushing a stray lash off Romy’s cheekbone. “But friendly. Mostly.”

Casper, halfway through wrestling a shirt over his head, froze. “Mostly?”

Avery, lounging with enviable ease on the arm of the couch, perked up. “Wait, we’re doing ghost stories? Excellent.”

Jasper raised his eyebrows and glanced around the room. “Well, places isn’t for five minutes. Might as well commune with the beyond.”

Elise chuckled softly. “Okay. Fine. This theatre has a pianist.”

“You mean, like⁠—”

“No,” she said, wiggling her fingers. “A ghost pianist. Kevin calls them the Page Turner.”

Kevin, who was currently lounging on top of the costume rack and humming a few bars of “Clair de Lune,” gave a regal nod.

“They hang out in the orchestra pit,” Elise went on. “And when the place is empty—or when they think no one’s listening—they’ll just… play.”

Romy leaned forward, pin clutching her lips. “Like… what kind of music?”

“Depends on their mood. Usually something beautiful. Gentle. But the last time I was here”—Elise paused, smiling at the memory—“I was walking through the wings after a rough matinee. Everyone was tense, cranky, barely speaking. And suddenly, from the pit, someone starts playing ‘Send in the Clowns.’”

The room broke into laughter.

“No!” gasped Talia, wiping her eyes.

“I swear,” Elise said, grinning. “Perfect timing. I nearly dropped an entire rack of hats.”

“That ghost has taste,” said Sienna, fully approving.

“They were dramatic,” Elise agreed. “But in the best way. And they loved music. That’s all I really know. I don’t think Kevin ever figured out their name, but he says their energy is like sheet music. Structured, but sometimes chaotic.”

Marcie, sitting cross-legged near the door, spoke up. “That explains the little runs I’ve heard after rehearsals. I thought someone was just messing around.”

“They’re not dangerous,” Elise said. “They just… want the theatre to stay alive, I think. To keep singing.”

Around her, the room felt lighter. Still tinged with worry, but steadied now by something warmer.

Nick rested his chin on her shoulder dramatically. “Can you tell them to take requests?”

“I haven’t tried,” Elise said. “But I think they take vibes.”