Page 80 of Specters & Spotlights

The call for places rang down the hallway.

Everyone stood, gathering water bottles and costume pieces, but the moment lingered just a little longer.

And in the silence that followed, the faintest chords floated in from the pit. Something soft. Something familiar.

Kevin grinned down at Elise from the rafters. “Told you they had good timing.”

After the curtain had fallen and the last of the cast had trickled out, Elise was finishing her post-show tidy-up when Graham appeared in the doorway, soft-spoken and deliberate.

“I won’t keep you,” he said, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “I just wanted to say—Nick and I agree. You shouldn’t be here alone.”

Before Elise could bristle, he raised both hands.

“Not because we think you need saving,” he added quickly. “We just… don’t want to take any chances. The Darcys are united in this.”

A dry, whispery voice drifted from across the room: “Oh, and I’m just set dressing, am I?”

Elise laughed under her breath. “Kevin would like to register his objection. But I’ll tell him not to take it personally.”

She could see Graham trying to work out whether she was kidding. “Should I apologize to him?”

She smiled. “Probably. But he’ll get over it.”

Graham’s eyes crinkled, but the concern was still there. “Nick told me you’ve got him staying over tonight. I’m glad. Didn’t want to… intrude. Zombie Haiku can wait.”

“It’ll be worth the wait,” she teased.

He stepped back, half-turned to go. “Be careful tonight, okay?”

As he passed, his fingers grazed hers—barely a touch, but it shimmered in the air between them. A spark. A promise.

Elise stood there long after he’d gone, her pulse humming in her fingertips.

The theatre slowly emptied—laughter echoing down the corridor, zippers zipping, doors clicking shut—but Nick stayed rooted beside Elise, chatting a mile a minute while she wound curlers into the freshly dried rain wig.

“You should’ve seen him,” Nick was saying, eyes wide. “He pulled out a ukulele and just—boom—serenaded me in the middle of the lobby. Full-on rom-com moment. I didn’t know whether to kiss him or crawl into the nearest potted plant.”

Elise snorted. “Please tell me you kissed him.”

“Oh, obviously. I’m not that dense. But listen, if we get serious, I’m insisting on a duet clause in our dating contract. I can’t have him upstaging me like that.”

She laughed, her fingers moving automatically through the rollers. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you, I try.” He kicked his feet up on a trunk and leaned back, studying her. “Okay, serious question time. Ghost stuff.”

Elise gave a half-smile, already bracing. “Of course. Naturally.”

She didn’t think she’d ever get used to this part—the sudden shift from normal conversation into interrogation. Even friendly questions had a way of poking at the edges of things she’d spent years trying to keep quiet. But this was Nick. And this was a part of herself she was trying to stop hiding.

One question at a time, she told herself. She could handle that.

He squinted. “Can you turn it off?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. But the tattoos help dull it—like putting a dimmer on a light.”

“Do they talk to you?” he asked. “Tell you their secrets? Beg you to solve their mysterious deaths?”

“Very rarely. Most of them aren’t that… aware. They’re like echoes—loops of memory.”