Chapter 9 – Elise #3
There had been silence on the line. Not the bad kind. The kind that held space for grief, for disbelief. For fear.
That call had shifted something. Made it real. Elise hadn’t let herself imagine that he could be dead. She had spent years running, building walls, protecting herself, creating distance. But she had never considered that what kept him away was the grave.
And still—he’d found her.
“I always thought,” Elise had whispered, “that he just gave up trying to find me.”
She hadn’t cried, not really. Just trembled from the inside out. But Cici had been solid on the other end of the line. Assuring. Soothing.
“We’ll figure it out,” she’d said. “I’ll dig up whatever information I can. I’ll send you a care package, and some new things for your kit. I’ll bless a Snickers bar and send it to you, if it will help.”
Elise had laughed, weak but grateful.
“Promise me you’ll call if anything feels off,” Cici had said before they hung up.
“I will.”
Now, standing in the bustle of a new backstage space, Elise blinked herself back to the present.
She moved quietly, the rituals muscle memory by now. First, the shallow ceramic dish tucked behind the costume rack—inside it, a brittle sprig of lavender crossed with palo santo, bound with waxed thread. She set it gently in place, almost like an offering.
Next, a sage bundle beneath the women’s dressing room doorframe—nestled behind a loose baseboard, where the scent could linger without drawing attention.
And finally, Kevin’s talisman.
She pulled the silk pouch from her bag and unwrapped the ornately engraved pocket watch inside, warm from her touch.
For a moment, she held it still, thumb brushing the silver edge, then climbed onto the narrow stool in the wig corner and nestled it high on the unused shelf above her mirror. Hidden. Safe.
Then came the final rhythm of unpacking: the foam heads lined up along the mirror, each one topped with a waiting wig; the brushes sorted, pins tucked into their tin, curlers rolled and stacked in sets of three. Everything in its place. Her little altar of art and armor.
Her reflection met her gaze—tired, yes, but steadier.
She hadn’t slept well in two nights. But the city was new, the air felt different, and despite the shadows trailing behind her, she was here.
Elise stepped into the narrow alley, where the murals on the brick shimmered faintly in the golden hour light. She pulled out her phone and dialed.
Cici answered instantly. “You okay?”
“Mostly,” Elise said. “I’m… here.”
“That’s enough for today.”
There was silence for a moment—safe, not awkward. Then Cici said, “I sent you a package. You should have it in two days.”
“What’s in it?”
“A sealed envelope,” Cici said. “Proof that he’s dead. Some articles. The details are murky, but the confirmation is solid. I figured you’d want it all in your hands. You don’t have to open it right away.”
Elise pressed her fingers to her temple. “I don’t know if I want to open it at all.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t text it to you,” Cici said. “There’s something different about holding it. You decide when.”
Elise nodded, even though Cici couldn’t see her. “What else is in the box?”
“There’s lots of goodies in there—I know your kit was looking a little thin. I included extra sage, palo santo, a new protection sigil for your mirror, some new salt, that candle blend you like. Oh—and an anklet.”
Elise blinked. “An anklet?”
“Not magical. But I made it for you. Blue, black, and gold. It’s got a little charm. I just… I wanted you to have something that felt like backup. Never take it off.”
Elise laughed softly, eyes stinging. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m serious,” Cici said. “I don’t want you to feel alone, not for one second.”
There was a pause, just long enough to feel like a sigh.
“I do have one more thing to tell you,” she added, her voice softer now. “The momma cat, the feral one behind the greenhouse… She passed yesterday.”
Elise pressed her hand to her sternum. “Oh no. Are the kittens going to be okay?”
“They’re okay. For now. I’ve got them in a box next to the radiator. They mewl every two hours like clockwork. I haven’t slept properly since, though.”
“Cici,” Elise said softly, worry tinging her voice.
“I’ll manage,” Cici said. “It’s what she would’ve wanted, I think. She found her way to me for a reason.”
Elise closed her eyes. “You’re a better person than me.”
“Maybe. But you're better at wigs,” Cici teased, and they both smiled.
A quiet moment passed, full of shared understanding.
“I’ll call again soon,” Elise said.
“You’d better.”
They hung up, and Elise stood for a moment in the alley behind the theatre, phone still in hand.
The alley was quiet now, save for the faint hum of neon from a nearby sign and the far-off thump of something being rolled inside the theatre. She looked up at the mural nearest her. Someone had painted wings there, all soft pinks and golds.
Gratitude, and worry, and something like hope braided together in her chest.
She slipped the phone into her carry-on pocket and turned toward the hotel, walking slowly through the fading light.