Chapter 20 – Elise #3
No one had said it outright. Not in so many words. The past partner who once said she looked “better with eyeliner.” The voice in her own head that had repeated it ever since.
She didn’t answer.
Graham didn’t press. He let the silence stretch a breath longer, then broke it softly. “You’re right. They are brown. Mostly.”
Elise raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?”
He smiled, like he was letting her in on a secret. “I’ve noticed something. When you’re excited—really excited, about something you love—they change.”
She frowned. “Change how?”
He leaned in a little closer. “They get this green ring around the iris. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It reminds me of spring. That very first edge of new leaves, when the light hits them just right.”
She didn’t know what to say to that.
No one had ever said anything like that to her—not in that tone, with that kind of attention. Her stomach twisted in a way that wasn’t nerves. It was… being seen. And not pulled apart. Just witnessed. Held.
Graham smiled again, soft and crooked. “You’re doing it right now.”
Her breath caught. “What?”
“That green rim. It’s there.”
Elise didn’t answer. She just smiled—small at first, then brighter. And slower. Like it surprised her.
They looked at each other for a long moment, neither of them moving, like something sacred had settled between them.
Then they started to lean in.
And—
A sound. Faint. Metallic.
Elise’s brows knit. “Do you hear that?”
They both stilled.
It was high-pitched, distant—like a bell or an alarm. Not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the moment. It rang in short, staccato bursts, just insistent enough to be unsettling.
Graham pulled back slightly, frowning. “What is that?”
“I don’t know.” Elise turned her head, trying to locate it. “It’s somewhere on this floor. Not the stage. Maybe the hall?”
The sound continued—mechanical, like a tiny emergency that hadn’t decided how urgent it wanted to be.
“Could be a stagehand’s timer,” Graham offered, but even as he said it, he didn’t sound convinced.
“It doesn’t feel like that,” Elise murmured. Her body had already shifted—out of the warmth, into alertness. “It sounds… wrong.”
They shared a glance.
Reluctantly, she took a step back. “We should check.”
Graham nodded, already moving with her toward the door with a light sigh.
Their almost-kiss hung in the air like a note unresolved.
The sound continued as they stepped out of the wig closet—high-pitched and relentless. It echoed faintly through the green room, threading between the mismatched chairs and flickering bulbs, growing sharper the farther they moved from the closet.
“It’s down here somewhere,” Elise said softly. “Definitely not up on the stage.”
Graham nodded and followed her as she cut across the common space toward the back corner, where several narrow hallways branched off like ribs from the main room.
The sound tugged them to the left, to one of the darker corridors, unlit and unfamiliar. They paused at the threshold.
Elise found the switch by touch and flipped it.
The fluorescents stuttered awake with a heavy buzz. The hallway blinked into view in sharp segments—old beige paint, scuffed tile, a crooked sign half peeled from the wall. There were doors lining both sides, all shut tight. No labels.
The bell kept ringing. Faint but steady.
They moved forward, slowly now, footsteps soft on the worn tile.
At the end of the hallway, it turned sharply to the right. The sound was clearer now—definitely coming from around that bend. Elise and Graham exchanged a glance, and Elise rounded the corner first.
At the end of the new stretch of hall stood a single closed door. It had a glass window in the upper half—one of those thick, safety-glass panes with mesh inside.
The room beyond was completely dark.
No light. No movement. No windows. Just the steady, urgent ringing coming from somewhere inside.
They approached the door slowly, the bell continuing to ring in short, insistent bursts on the other side.
Elise peered through the window, squinting against the reflection from the hallway lights. The room beyond was murky, but she could make out enough: it was big. Much bigger than she’d expected—like a rehearsal studio or an old prop storage area. The ceiling looked high, the floor bare.
The bell sounded again—slightly louder now, definitely coming from the far wall. The way the sound echoed made the room feel cavernous, empty. Like whatever was in there wasn’t supposed to be disturbed.
Graham leaned in beside her, trying to see. “It’s huge,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” Elise said, voice barely above a whisper.
Her tattoos began to prickle.
Not painful, just a low thrum beneath her skin. A warning. A welcome. She couldn’t quite tell.
She shifted her weight. The iron nail at her neck felt heavier, warmer. Her breath hitched.
“It might be ghost-related,” she murmured. “But I don’t see anything. Yet.”
Graham glanced at her, searching her face.
“You okay?”
Elise nodded, eyes still on the door. “Yeah. I just… I want to know what it is.”
He held her gaze. “Together?”
“Together,” she echoed.
They reached for the door handle at the same time.