Chapter 18 – Elise #2
Elise had pre-packed as much as she could between cues and wig changes, pulling her trunk out from the wall so she could toss supplies in as she wrapped.
But the rain wig still sat damp on the block, and she was focused on carefully brushing and drying it, knowing she’d set it properly once they reached the next city.
Nick popped in, already changed and freshly scrubbed, hair still damp. “I’m off,” he announced, practically vibrating with anticipation. “Marco’s in the lobby. We’re pre-gaming before karaoke because of course we are. You better show up.”
“Soon,” Elise grinned. “Try not to break into song before I get there.”
“No promises,” he called over his shoulder, already halfway down the hall.
Marcie swung by next, arms full of overflowing makeup kits. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said, wedging them into the extra space in Elise’s trunk like it was a game show challenge. “I owe you wine.”
“Hold you to it,” Elise replied, brushing a stubborn tangle out of the wig.
And then… Graham.
Jeans. Black sweater. Hair still damp from the rain scene. Casual enough to be effortless, but polished enough to wreck her entire internal monologue.
He leaned one elbow on the counter, watching her work. “So. What power ballad are you blessing us with tonight?”
Elise glanced up, unimpressed. “You think I’d draw attention to my secret weapon in a karaoke bar?”
He gave her a look. “You mean your voice?”
“I mean my ability to blend into the background.”
He grinned, but rather than pressing the issue, he let the subject drift, shifting into easy, teasing conversation—something about karaoke horror stories from his college days, a disastrous group number involving interpretive dance, and whether he could get away with doing something absurdly off-brand tonight like “Barbie Girl.”
Elise mostly deflected, her replies quick and dry, keeping the spotlight anywhere but on herself. Still, the banter had an edge to it, like a match held just an inch too long. And every time her eyes met his, it felt like they were building something they weren’t quite ready to touch.
As she sectioned and rolled hair, Graham reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slim book. “By the way,” he said casually, “I believe I promised you highbrow zombie poetry.”
Elise blinked. “You brought Zombi Haiku? Tonight?”
He flipped it open with mock solemnity. “As any cultured man would.” He cleared his throat dramatically, then read:
“Biting into heads
is much harder than it looks.
The brains are worth it.”
Elise burst out laughing, nearly dropping the comb.
“Art,” he said, straight-faced. “Respect the form.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling as she pinned a curl into place. “That’s what you’re doing tonight, isn’t it? Forget karaoke—you’re just going to stand on a barstool and dramatically recite undead haiku.”
His smile widened. “Don’t tempt me.”
By the time she was finished styling the wig, the air between them was practically humming.
They made quick work of the final wig accessory cleanup, Graham falling into the rhythm of her post-show routine like he’d done it a dozen times.
He crouched down to retrieve a rogue hairbrush that had rolled under the counter.
“I swear these things have legs,” he muttered, tossing it to Elise.
“Stage brushes are basically sentient,” she said. “We just pretend we’re in charge.” Still, her gaze flicked over the supplies, just in case the bad-vibes hairbrush from the last stop had somehow staged a comeback. It hadn’t.
When the trunk finally clicked shut, Elise unzipped her carry-on and pulled out her warding kit like it was her travel-sized apocalypse prep set.
“Alright,” she sighed. “Time to reclaim my good vibes.”
Graham tilted his head, curiosity piqued as she stepped to the mirror. Her fingers brushed against the faint chalk lines of a sigil etched into the lower corner.
“This one’s new,” she said. “Cici sent me the pattern. Meant to amplify clarity and repel lingering energy.”
Graham leaned in slightly, squinting at the shape. “Looks like a rune. Or a backstage doodle.”
Elise smiled. “Little of both, probably.”
Next, she crossed to a tiny ceramic dish tucked behind a costume rack. It held a brittle sprig of lavender and a palo santo stick, charred at the tip.
“This one’s more sentimental than useful at this point,” she said. “From college. Cici gave it to me when we had a sleep paralysis demon roommate.”
Graham raised an eyebrow. “Literal or metaphorical?”
“Honestly, I’m still not sure.”
She scooped up a sage bundle resting near the doorframe, bits of leaf crumbling onto her fingers. And finally, with more reverence, she reached for the old pocket watch nestled on the corner shelf.
“This one’s Kevin’s,” she said. “His talisman. It keeps him tethered.”
“You mean the ghost?” Graham asked, eyes wide. “He has a talisman?”
“He used to own it,” she said. “Now it binds him to whatever theatre it’s in.”
“So if you take it with you…”
“He disappears the second it crosses the threshold to the outside,” she said. “Goes quiet. It’s like he stops existing until I bring it into the next space. Then he just… comes back, next time I enter a theatre with it. No memory of the in-between.”
Graham let out a low, slightly amazed laugh. “Of course Kevin comes with lore and luggage.”
Elise tucked the watch safely into a silk pouch. “Just don’t borrow it. Last time someone touched it without permission, a mirror exploded.” She shot a pointed look at Kevin, who was making a show of lounging like he wasn’t listening. He absolutely was.
Graham followed her gaze. “…Noted.”
With everything packed and her kit zipped up tight, Elise slung her bag over her shoulder and gave the room one final glance. The wig trunk was closed. The wards were collected. The air felt… lighter.
Almost.
She paused at the edge of the green room, ears pricked for the faint strains of piano she’d come to expect—a quiet farewell from the pianist in the orchestra pit. But the theatre was still. No music echoed from the shadows.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly. The pianist had always played them out. Not tonight.
Elise wondered, not for the first time, what made a ghost fall silent.
She turned toward Kevin, who hovered near the mirror with his usual wry expression. “See you in a few days,” she said.
He gave a half-bow. “See you in a blink.”
Graham adjusted the strap of his bag and stepped beside her. “You ready?”
Elise paused, closing her eyes just for a second. She sent out a silent thank-you—and a cautious goodbye—to the spirits who had shared this space with her. Then she opened her eyes and smiled. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
As they started down the hallway, Graham slipped his arm gently around her shoulders. It wasn’t bold or possessive—just… intentional. It felt new, and she let herself lean into it with a grin.
The hall buzzed with fluorescent hum as they stepped through the stage door and into the darkened alley, city lights blooming around them.
Onward. To the cast party.