Chapter 17 – Elise
Chapter Seventeen
Elise
Elise stood in her usual place, removing the last of the sticky spirit gum from Isla Kent’s lace front, her hands steady from muscle memory even as her thoughts wandered.
It had been a long two-show day. Her phone rested beside the bobby pins—still no new messages.
Just Cici’s earlier text, glowing faintly like an omen.
Cici
I think I know what we might be dealing with. Call me while you’re curling.
Cryptic. Even by Cici standards.
“Elise,” Isla said, voice soft but firm, “you’ve been quieter than usual these past couple days. Everything alright?”
Elise blinked, a little surprised Isla had noticed. “Just been… a weird couple of days,” she replied, keeping her tone light but not exactly denying it.
Isla didn’t press. Instead, she smiled with that calm, grounded warmth that made Elise feel like she’d just had her hair smoothed by someone’s favorite aunt. “Well, weird days come and go. Just make sure you don’t let them settle in and start unpacking. Take care of yourself, alright?”
She stood, gave Elise’s shoulder a soft pat, and drifted into the night like a closing line in a well-worn script.
Nick sauntered up to the wig counter—his face freshly washed, his costume traded in for jeans and a hoodie. He moved with the leisurely confidence of someone who knew the show was behind him and the evening held possibilities.
He dropped onto the old wig trunk like it was his personal throne. “Kevin and I have been talking,” he announced, tone dry. “Okay—I’ve been talking to Kevin, mostly to thin air, really—but I’ve decided you need a change of scenery. Post-wigging, you’re coming out with me. That’s final.”
A breeze of cool air stirred behind Elise as Kevin made himself visible only to her. “I was not present for this so-called conversation,” he said with theatrical offense. “But now that I’ve been dragged into this, yes—I agree. You need something to shake the shadows loose.”
Elise fought a smile. “Kevin says he wasn’t actually present for this conversation, but he’s backing your plan anyway.”
Nick raised his eyebrows. “A reluctant endorsement from the spirit realm? I’ll take it.”
“But,” Elise added, holding up a comb like a gavel, “first we’re checking in with Cici. She sent a text earlier. I’m calling her as soon as this place clears out.”
Nick made a show of tipping an invisible hat. “Fine. But after the witches’ council adjourns, you’re mine for the night.”
Graham passed by the wig counter like the final note of a warm encore—unhurried, glowing, unsure whether to linger or leave. He gave Nick a silent nod—one of those wordless man-to-man exchanges that somehow conveyed both trust and instruction.
Then his eyes found Elise. “Text me if anything goes bump in the night,” he said, voice soft with suggestion.
Elise gave a slow grin. “What if I text you just for fun? You know, to test your reflexes.”
Graham’s smile deepened, eyes dancing. “Then I hope I prove myself equal to the occasion,” he replied, slipping into his Mr. Darcy voice, all stormy restraint and noble yearning.
Elise’s stomach did a little pirouette. Her knees, absolutely traitorous, wobbled.
With a final look, equal parts fond and daring, Graham turned and strode out.
Nick waited until the footsteps faded. “Okay, what was that? The tension between you two tonight? I needed a fan and a fainting couch.”
He flung himself dramatically into a nearby chair. “I even told him he could hang back with you tonight, just in case. He turned me down. Said he didn’t want to smother you.”
Elise blinked. “He said that?”
Nick nodded, theatrical. “Verbatim. He’s worried about crowding you. It’s kind of adorable. Like watching a golden retriever try to tiptoe.”
Elise bit back a grin. “He’s sweet. A little in his head, but… sweet.”
“Sweet? Elise, this is the slowest burn I’ve ever seen. Can you just drag him into the nearest broom closet already? You’re killing me.”
She laughed. “Nick, not all of us have your... ‘carpe diem’ approach.”
From somewhere behind her, Kevin sniffed. “Nick would sleep with a coat rack if it winked at him.”
“Rude,” Nick muttered, crossing his arms like he knew exactly what had been said even if he couldn’t hear it.
Elise chuckled and shook her head. “Honestly? I don’t mind the slow. It’s different. Better, maybe. Everything else in this world moves so fast. Maybe slow is exactly what I need.”
Nick snorted. “You and your ‘slow’ nonsense. Can’t relate.”
He leaned back with a sigh, the moment of levity settling into something gentler. “Still… he does look at you like you’re the only person in the room.”
Her fingers paused briefly, warmth flickering across her cheeks. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”
A beat passed. Then Nick clapped his hands once, brisk. “Anyway! From steamy to spooky—did you notice tonight was blessedly free of ghostly hijinks, or was that just me?”
Elise paused in the middle of handling a curler. “No, you’re right. It’s been quiet. Too quiet. Like… the ghosts are hunkering down.”
Nick made a face. “Cute. Like spectral squirrels before a storm.”
She smiled thinly. “I’ll be glad when we’re out of here. One more night.”
“Preach,” Nick said. “I’m mostly hyped for the cast party. We’ve got private rooms at that karaoke place everyone raves about—allegedly peak vibes. I invited Marco.”
“Oh?” Elise raised an eyebrow. “And what happens when we hit the road again? Is he just your city-specific fling?”
Nick hesitated. “Normally? Yeah. But this one might be different.” He shrugged. “Not making any promises. Just... seeing where it goes. Like a cool breeze. Or a well-placed high note,” he said with a flourish.
Elise looked up from her brush, blinking into the now-still backstage. “Huh. We’re alone.”
Nick made a dramatic show of glancing around. “And thus begins the horror movie portion of our evening.”
She snorted and reached for her phone. “I talked to Cici last night—got her up to speed on our ghostly cameo during the quick change.” She looked up at Nick. “She’s been doing some digging today. Thinks she might have figured something out.”
Nick perked up immediately. “Ooh. Time for our favorite part: Witchy FaceTime.”
Elise rolled her eyes affectionately and propped her phone up against the mirror, adjusting the angle. “Kevin, you’re in on this too,” she added aloud.
As the call connected, Cici appeared on screen—curled in a wide porch chair, a tiny kitten curled up contentedly in her lap. The warm glow of string lights wrapped around the porch beams cast a cozy golden halo around her.
Her face lit up when she saw them. “Hey, weirdos. How was the show?”
“Quiet,” Elise and Nick said in near unison.
“Well, that’s something,” Cici said, exhaling. “I’ve been talking to a few folks in my circles, trying to piece things together. And I might—just might—have a theory.”
Nick and Kevin leaned in closer, while Elise picked up her curlers to start winding and pinning segments of hair.
Cici leaned closer to the camera, her tone shifting slightly—more measured, more serious. “I’m not completely sure yet, but… it might be a specter.”
Nick tilted his head. “Is that, like, a pretentious ghost?”
Elise squinted. “Specter as in... spooky old-English poetry kind of specter?”
Cici nodded slowly. “It’s similar to a ghost, yes. It’s of the spirit world, and it carries an imprint of a soul—maybe even a piece of the real thing. But a specter isn’t just some leftover memory haunting a space.”
She paused, scratching the cat behind the ears as if steadying herself.
“A specter is made. Summoned. It doesn’t just linger—it’s created, often unintentionally. Born from obsession, grief, hatred… anything strong enough to shape the energy into form. It has purpose. Focus. It’s here for something.”
Kevin gave an ominous shiver. “Great. A ghost with ambition.”
“They’re rare,” Cici added. “There’s not a lot out there about them. But the little I could find? They’re powerful. And dangerous. This… this is not your run-of-the-mill ghost flicking light switches. They act. They chase.”
Elise worked a curler through the damp ends of the rain wig, her fingers moving on instinct. “I guess that explains why it hasn’t been following the usual ghost rules, right?”
Cici nodded. “Exactly. I don’t think a specter is bound to one place or a personal object, like most spirits are. It’s bound to… intention. It moves with purpose.”
Nick leaned in. “So it’s like a ghost with a mission? A super-ghost?” He frowned. “Was it ever a person? Or can it just shape-shift into something scary—like, say, your ex at a cast party?” He cast a glance toward Elise, before adding: “Asking for a friend.”
Cici let out a wry chuckle. “Specter lore isn’t exactly peer-reviewed, Nick.
Some sources say they come from real souls that are plucked from the afterlife, others say they’re born from energy and emotion, kind of like a magical tantrum with teeth.
And yes, some people think they can mimic familiar faces to get under your skin. ”
She met Elise’s eyes through the screen. “What matters is: if this thing is connected to your past, even symbolically, that’s not a coincidence. And if it’s following you? That’s bad news.”
Elise swallowed, her hands pausing for the first time. The curler she was holding suddenly felt heavier than it should have. “Okay… what do I do?”
Nick continued watching her, his usual smirk replaced with quiet concern.
Cici leaned forward in her chair. “We’re going old school. College dorm witchcraft level.”
Elise groaned. “Oh god. Is this a rosemary-bath situation?”
“You bet. Soak tonight. Salt in your pockets, and carry a charm bag. Got any garlic? Wear it. Do not skip the iron—loop that nail from your warding kit onto a necklace. And throw that rose quartz on for good measure. You’re going full amulet-core.”
Kevin let out a theatrical shudder. “You’re about to smell like an Italian deli and a crystal shop had a baby.”
Elise made a face. “Sorry, Kevin.”
He gave her a sly grin. “I mean, I’ll support you. From over there. With a breeze.”
Cici chuckled. “This won’t fix things, but it’ll help mask your energy and keep the thing from getting too fixated—at least until I can figure out how to kick its ass properly. Give me a day or two.”
Elise nodded. “Copy that. Maximum garlic. Moderate panic.” Then her eyes narrowed, a new thread of dread pulling taut. “Wait—Cici. Can specters, like… take someone? Could Ellen’s vanishing be connected to this thing?”
Cici’s expression shifted immediately. “Yikes. That’s a terrifying theory.” She rubbed her temple. “I really hope not—but I’ll dig around. Add that to the growing ‘existential dread’ pile.”
The worry must have shown on Elise’s face, because Cici leaned in and deliberately softened her tone. “Okay, enough of the doom and gloom. Let’s talk about something more fun. Has your Mr. Darcy made his move yet?”
Elise groaned and rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You too?”
“Oh we’re talking about this,” Nick said, swooping into frame behind her. “You should’ve seen them tonight. The lingering glances? The tension? We’ve got an unofficial betting pool backstage on how long they’re going to draw out this whole will-they-won’t-they slow burn.”
Cici grinned through the screen. “My money’s on Graham cracking first.”
Elise muttered something under her breath and focused on sliding the last curl into place. She placed the finished wig into the dryer, ignoring their voices as best she could, but the faintest smile played at the corner of her mouth.
As she rejoined the conversation, she found Nick and Cici mid-giggle, the kind that only came when two people were fully aligned in the joy of matchmaking.
“I leave for two minutes and you form a coalition,” she muttered, shaking her head with a small smile.
“I prefer the term romantic task force,” Cici replied cheerfully. “Oh! Before I go—someone wanted to say goodbye.”
She scooped a small tabby kitten onto her lap and lifted its paw toward the screen. “Say bye, Lillith!” she said in a sing-song voice as the kitten blinked slowly.
Nick cooed. Elise rolled her eyes fondly.
“Call me if things get weird again,” Cici added, her voice softening. “And seriously—get some sleep if you can.”
“I’ll try,” Elise promised.
With that, the screen went dark. Elise tucked the phone in her pocket and started gathering her things.
Nick stood, stretching. “Well, that was informative and emotionally fulfilling. Time for margaritas?”
Elise stood too, grabbing her bag. “Please. If I don’t get salt and lime in the next fifteen minutes, I’ll start communing with spirits in a very different way.”
As they turned to leave, Elise paused and glanced toward the back corner of the green room. “Thanks for keeping watch, Kev.”
There was no response at first, but then one of the fluorescent bulbs overhead flickered once, then again, in a soft rhythmic pulse. Like a wink.
Nick blinked. “Okay… was that…?”
A slow, deliberate breeze ruffled the hem of his jacket—not cold, but unmistakably there. The kind of breeze that shouldn’t exist indoors.
Nick straightened, grinning. “Ghost-approved margarita night. I can die happy.”
“You’d better not,” Elise muttered, tugging him toward the door.
As they stepped out into the cool night air, Nick started rattling off a list of potential bars like a man on a mission. Elise let the momentum carry her forward, grateful for the distraction—and for once, not minding the attention.