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His arm brushed mine, and I resisted the unnecessary urge to catch his sleeve again. Even after the worker passed, I stayed close enough that our jackets touched. I wanted to slip my hand under his flannel and find out whether his skin was as warm as I remembered from that morning’s handshake.

I let myself look up at him. A strand of dark hair had caught on his beard, and when he turned toward me, I could see the hazel of his eyes beneath the light.

Damien paused at the wardrobe entrance to the Cellar, taking in the narrow opening. “I’m going to have to go sideways. You can laugh once I’m through.”

He had to duck too, and I was smiling when we emerged into the next corridor. We worked our way back toward the figure set, pausing for radio checks at the staff crossings.

We stopped at the curtained staff opening on the right. I held the fabric aside while the last visitors moved along the railing. The pumpkin lantern was still glowing on its shelf, and the figure hung motionless in its shadowed recess. One woman was still clutching her friend’s coat, laughing breathlessly as they found the way out. I waited for them to leave before stepping into the staff crossing.

The next group was just reaching the lantern when the recorded whisper began overhead. I turned toward the operator as the suspension line scraped across its support.

The figure came toward the staff passage.

Damien caught me around the waist and hauled me backward through the curtain. My heel struck the threshold, but his grip held until I had both feet beneath me. The figure hit the doorpost at head height, shaking dust from the timber, its wooden shoulder frame exposed where the coat had torn.

“Hold everyone at the entrance,” I said into the radio. “Stop the effect and bring up the work lights. Keep the group by the lantern where they are.”

The operator shut off the cue. With the overhead lights on, I could see the figure turning slowly against the post, one painted foot dragging along the floor. Damien moved me to the side of the doorway, out of its reach, and looked back through the opening before releasing me.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked.

I pressed a hand to my ribs and took a careful breath. I hadn’t hit the post, and nothing hurt when I moved. I could hear a guest asking whether this was part of the show.

“I’m not hurt.” I reached for my radio again. “Take that group back out through the entrance, and keep the next one outside.”

Damien stayed beside me while I watched all six move out, their joking gone quiet. When the attendant confirmed they were clear, I called Rick over the radio. “Hold admissions at the front gate. We’ve had a problem with the hanging figure, and we need to extend the bypass before anybody else comes in.”

“Can you take this whole set out of the route?” Damien asked.

“We can start the bypass one crossing earlier. I need someone at this entrance and someone at the new turn.” I pointed through the curtain toward the guest opening. “They come out before the lantern and join the lane we’re already using. Nobody has to pass this room.”

He went with me around the outside of the structure to the entrance. From there I could direct the arriving workers without standing under anything suspended. The wind pushed the curtain inward, exposing the damaged post each time it moved. I kept looking at it while I assigned the new positions.

The reset lead came from the next section, breathing hard. “Should we lower it?”

“Leave the rig alone,” I told her. “Block access to the room first. I don’t want anybody trying a quick repair, and that includes running it to see what happens.”

She went to collect the barriers while Damien called O’Shea. I heard him describe where we’d been standing and what the figure had done.

“It swung into the staff crossing. Sybil’s clear, and the guests are out. We’re keeping the room closed and leaving the equipment untouched.”

I turned my radio down enough to hear the nearby workers without losing their calls. My hands were shaking now that I didn’t have to hold anything still. I shoved them into my jacket pockets and watched the entrance attendant draw a barrier across the doorway.

We’d tested the effect twice. I’d stood in that crossing and watched it stay within its limits. Somebody could have changed it afterward, or a part could have shifted under repeated use. From outside the room, I couldn’t tell which had happened.

Damien lowered the phone. “O’Shea has the location. Show me where you need the new turn.”

I led him along the outer lane until we reached the crossing I meant. He stood with me while I checked its width and the position of the waiting worker, then accompanied me as I walked the first diverted group through. I kept my explanation brief and gave them a clear direction before they reached the place where they might hesitate.

No one entered the closed set. Once the line was moving steadily, I unclipped the radio and held it against my chest for a moment, listening to the confirmations from the other stations. Damien waited until I put it back before offering me his open bottle of water.

I drank, grateful for something to do while my breathing settled. The bottle was cold against my palms. Beyond the barrier, a group followed the new direction without stopping, and the attendant answered the next radio check promptly.

“Thank you for getting me out of there,” I said.

Damien’s gaze moved over my face. “I’m glad I was close enough. Take another minute before we go anywhere.”

I leaned against the fence beside him and finished the water. He stayed quiet while I watched the guests move along the lane. When I was ready, we took the outside route back to production together.