Chapter 12
TWELVE
"W hat? What are you two thinking about?" I ask, my gaze moving from one to the other.
Cer purses his lips.
"Most of the places that claim to be haunted are likely not haunted anymore. They may have been at one point, but the moment a spirit makes itself known to a living human, a Collector is specifically dispatched to bring it back since that type of interaction is forbidden."
I frown, slowly digesting the information. Does that mean that if Nikki has made himself known to me, a collector will come after him? I gulp at the thought. I've just gotten him back—granted, in a shadowy, barely human form—but I know deep in my gut that it's him. I'd recognize the warmth he instills in me anywhere because only he has the ability to make me feel like that.
He's my person. In life or in death.
"What he means is that if everyone knows this place is haunted, it should technically not be haunted anymore. Collectors may be capricious bastards, but they get the job done when they get a direct order. That's the only time they cannot choose their targets. But still, we were sent here to deal with a spirit."
"So what are you saying? That the spirit isn't her?"
Thea nods apprehensively.
"What if the collector just hasn't gotten around to getting her? That could happen, no?"
"Technically, it could, but... I don't like this. It's too out in the open for them to just ignore the issue." Pursing her lips, she turns, her screwed eyes taking in all the details of the foyer. "I've been here once before," she remarks. "And I never felt the presence of a spirit."
"And you didn't think to mention this earlier?" I ask drily.
Thea gives me a guilty smile.
"We didn't want to alarm you until we gathered more information. But if these people have been aware of the ghost for decades , that changes everything. It's not just a sighting a few months ago that could be explained away with the fact that a collector hasn't come to, well, collect ."
"Hence the trial." Cer cracks a smile. "Of course it wouldn't have been that easy."
"You've both lost me," I mumble, confused.
"We'll see what we're dealing with soon," Thea says. "Don't you worry, Luce. We'll protect you." She winks at me.
I strain a smile. I'm not sure how much I trust them to protect me when I can't even trust them with the facts. Every time they give me one piece of information, it's incomplete. But at the same time, they also have something I don't—some type of superhuman abilities that will prove useful in this game. Despite the fact that I don't trust them, I have to admit that I need them.
Taking a deep breath, I suggest we head to our seats.
Yet as we get to the auditorium, I spot a mini-museum in the back. There are a few artifacts from the original Ziegfeld Follies, including shoes, bags, and ostentatious headdresses.
"Maybe one of these objects could be keeping the spirit in the theatre? If it is Olive Thomas, that is."
"Mayhap," Cer answers noncommittally, scanning the display in his usual bored manner.
Thea, on the other hand, is getting increasingly closer to one of the displays, and from the corner of my eye, I note the lengthening of her nail as she searches for the lock.
"Thea, no!" I say through gritted teeth. "Can't you see how many people are around?"
"But it's so cute." She pouts, gazing at one of the headdresses adoringly.
"And not yours. What did I say about stealing?"
"After everyone leaves?" She bats her lashes at me.
I look at her brother for help with her little sticky fingers—or in her case, clawy fingers—situation, but he pretends he doesn't know us.
I sigh.
"You can borrow it after the show as long as you put it back when we leave," I tell her, knowing that even if I say no, she'll still do whatever she wants.
Her eyes sparkle and she gives me an effusive nod.
When it's time to go to our seats, we barely get her away from the display. As we reach our designated area, I'm surprised to see Cer had gone all out and booked one of the private boxes on the side of the auditorium. The privacy is welcome, as is the opportunity to study the location from a vantage point.
We place the bags with our supplies on the floor just in time for the curtains to go up. Silence descends in the room, the orchestra starting with a lulling violin sound. Turning to the stage, I take a moment to soak in the beauty of the auditorium. There's a vaulted ceiling surrounded by paintings in an Art Nouveau style. Green, mauve, gold, and a muted red swirl around in a contrast that speaks of the Gilded Age of New York, with its lavish decorations and illusions of grandeur. Floral details are depicted in a bas-relief style—which I only know about because I took art history as one of my electives. There's an assortment of new and old pieces, preserving both the history while keeping up with modernity.
A pang of regret reverberates in my chest. I've been living in this city for over a year and I've barely visited anything. For the first time, I should have been here with Nikki, not with two odd non-humans, and certainly not ghost hunting.
The musical ends up being surprisingly enjoyable—so much so that I barely realize when it ends and people stand up to leave the premises.
I make to get up, too, but Cer raises a hand to stop me.
"We can wait here until everyone leaves."
"But the staff will come to clean and?—"
He gives me a bored look that simply says trust me .
"He's right, Luce. Sit down and wait. It will be easier to evade detection here."
I don't know how, but apparently, they have some plan I know nothing about.
Just as I predicted, the staff comes to the auditorium to clean up after the spectators. Someone opens the door to our box as well, and just as I prepare to make up an excuse for still being there, I realize that they don't come in. They stare at us as if they aren't seeing us. A moment passes, after which they close the door and leave.
"What just happened?" I mutter, confused.
"Told you there was nothing to worry about." Thea winks.
Hours pass and the sun goes down. The lights go out in the theatre, and the last staff member leaves, which allows us to finally move around freely.
Turning on our flashlights, we make our way out of the box and back to the ground floor.
For a supposedly haunted place, I expected to be more afraid. Instead, there's only an odd sense of anticipation that blooms within me with each step I take. If this ghost is real, then so is the one from the previous night—or so I tell myself.
The night air is cool and moist. Despite the continuous use of the theatre since its inauguration, there's still an old, musky smell clinging to the walls. While the main auditorium has been entirely restored, the rest of the theatre not so much. The vintage wallpaper in the hallways is one peel away from falling down, the various decorations adorning the walls and the ceiling chipped and discolored. Once upon a time, this would have been a vibrant, ostentatious place. It's still ostentatious, but in a way that speaks of decadence and decay—perhaps fitting considering its history.
"We should check backstage," Thea suggests. "The article mentioned the sighting of the ghost was on the stage. Maybe we can sense something there."
While Thea and Cer go down the stairs that lead backstage, I remain rooted on the spot in the middle of the stage.
My mouth parts in awe at the grandiose view of the auditorium from the center of the stage. I imagine that every seat is filled, their eyes on me as they follow my every move. There's a sense of exhilaration—of fear laced with excitement.
Is this how stars feel when they perform?
Is this how Olive Thomas felt?
"Luce?" Thea's voice rings out and I shake myself from my reverie.
"Coming," I call out, turning to leave.
I back away slowly, somehow unable to tear my gaze away from the sprawling empty seats.
The wooden floor creaks as I place my weight on the heels of my feet. The sound vibrates in the silence of the auditorium, and I wait for fear to seep into my bones. I wait for many things—a sudden drop in the temperature of the air, the foul smell of sulfur, the flickering of lights and all the Hollywood signs that point to a ghost infestation. Most of all, I stare intently at a spot in the back of the auditorium, almost as if willing the ghost to show itself. Alas, I may have watched one too many movies.
My lips quirk up and I shake my head at my own foolishness. I pivot, rotating on the ball of my right foot.
A gust of wind hits my face, but I welcome the breeze. It's only when I blink, my eyes fluttering open, that I come face to face with a red, mottled mass of skin. There are no eyes, just scar tissue that had never mended properly. A mouth with rotten teeth slowly opens, the movements of the jaw emitting a low, clanking sound, almost as if it's popping out of place.
I gulp down, keeping myself absolutely still.
There are two canine-like teeth in the front, discolored and verging more on black than white. And as the creature releases a blood-curdling scream, a wave of pure force blasts me backward. I hit the side wall of the stage with a deafening thud. A gasp escapes me as the wind is knocked out of my lungs. Yet as I glance again at the spot, I find it empty.
What the...
"Luce?" Thea hurries to my side, worry etched on her features.
"I'm fine," I croak, slowly getting to my feet.
"What happened?" Cer materializes from behind Thea, his eyes narrowed as he surveys the area. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, his expression tense.
Thea looks back at him, her eyes widening as he gives her a brisk nod.
"It was...something. But it wasn't Olive," I say as I manage to catch my breath. I give them a quick description of what I saw, and the siblings fall silent.
Cer crouches to the ground, swiping the pads of his fingers against the floor and bringing them to his nose.
"What is it?" I frown.
"You and Thea should leave," he suddenly says.
"What? Why? What's going on?"
"This isn't a regular ghost." Cer gets up, his gaze swallowing up the entire auditorium. He doesn't explain further, and my patience runs out.
"Can you just tell me what's happening? Both of you," I say in exasperation.
Thea purses her lips as she takes a deep breath.
"I might have omitted some information." She flashes me a guilty look.
My brows rise in question as I tap my foot impatiently against the floor.
Thea gazes at her brother, nodding at him.
"Sometimes rogue spirits are...consumed by other beings."
"Other beings?"
"Demons."
I gawk at the two of them before I slowly shake my head, amusement bubbling inside of me. Of course there would be demons too. Just what I needed.
"Explain," I demand sharply.
Thea opens her mouth to speak, but Cer interrupts her.
"When the soul leaves the body, it's either led by a messenger to P'asala, or it refuses to move on and remains trapped on Earth. In this case, there are two outcomes. First, a collector comes and retrieves the soul. This usually happens within a short period of time after death. The more time passes, the stronger the soul becomes, and Collectors typically don't like to deal with them unless they interfere with humans directly. In the second scenario, the soul goes on to haunt whatever place or object they've become attached to until they become a demon themselves or they catch the attention of a demon. But it's rare for a soul to turn into a demon. That only happens when the soul is evil. Most often, souls become other demons' prey. Since unblemished souls are the purest source of energy, they are a delicacy for a number of beings."
I blink slowly, dread forming in the pit of my stomach. If what he's saying is true, then...
Nikki!
As a newly deceased soul, he's either going to be retrieved by a collector, or he risks becoming food for a demon. And if he's attached to me...
I might have led him straight into danger.