Tears stung her eyes, and she dashed them away with the palm of her hand. “It would be so much better if we were doing this together. You know?”
Silence. But she didn’t need to hear or feel an acknowledgment. She knew Liv was there, and that she heard her.
This is for you, Liv.
A rush of warmth and the glitter of energy surrounded her, gently buffeting her, filling her, comforting her. Her sister was near.
Then something caught her attention. A movement, from the corner of her eye.
She turned, heart lurching into her throat, and saw a shadow—what she thought was a shadow—move.
Tall, long, it spilled across stage left…dark and obvious even in the poor light. It wasn’t the shape of a person—no, it was angular and smooth…except for the top, where its rectangular shape distorted into something that wasn’t human.
The hair on the back of her neck shot to attention, prickling and tense, and Vivien felt goosebumps erupt all over her arms and legs. Her breath came out in short, hard pants, and it was visible, little foggy clouds of white.
The shadow slid silently across the stage—dark, slick, and amorphous—rippling over the slats in the stage, dipping off the edge until it came so close that it nearly brushed over her feet and arm…
And then it was gone.
It happened so quickly, smoothly, silently…the shadow was there and then it was gone.
And everything was still.
And Vivien was alone once more.
Chapter Six
The Scoutsand high school volunteers brought much-needed life and energy into the theater. Vivien freely admitted it was a relief to have so much activity—normalactivity—going on in the abandoned building, especially after what had happened just a short while ago.
She’d looked around backstage and found nothing that could have created that eerie, long shadow…and the realization made her stomach more than a little queasy.
The teens were loud and rambunctious, calling out to each other, laughing, and—since someone had brought a speaker—blasting music that was, surprisingly, from artists she recognized.
She couldfeelthe place waking up.
She wanted to stand out there on the stage and sing “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” or “Defying Gravity”—something bold and anthemic.
Vivien opened the huge rolling garage door, which allowed in a lot of light and fresh air to the backstage area, and did the same with all of the other doors. Dumpsters had been set up in the parking lot, and the gloved and masked volunteers began the process of removing trash and damaged parts of the theater: broken chairs, tattered curtains, set pieces that could no longer be used, boxes of old programs, mildewed and shredded office supplies, paint, hardware, and other miscellaneous items. The basic structure of the building was sound, and most of the interior walls were as well, except for one corner in the back where a small leak in the roof had created some damage. There, rotting boards and mildewed flooring had to be taken up and disposed of. Three of the football players attacked that task with alacrity—and sledgehammers.
“Miss Savage, what about these?” called one of the students. “Do they go or stay?”
There were too many of the teens for Vivien to know their names, but she thought the girl was Stephanie—a member of the pom squad and the daughter of a blacksmith (an actual blacksmith!) who lived in town.
She came over to find Stephanie and one of her friends flipping through a stack of large framed photos of shows that had been done over the years. There were more than two dozen of them, and they were each the size of a movie poster, depicting productions from the 1920s through the early 1990s.The Wizard of Oz,The Nutcracker,Noises Off,A Midsummer Night’s Dream,Hamlet,and more.
These were the spirits, the ghosts that lingered—and now they had faces and shapes to go with them. She felt a shimmer of awareness as she looked through the images, feeling the burst of joy and intensity that glowed from the actors in each exuberant shot.
“Definitely keep them,” Vivien said, noting that they seemed to be in good shape except for the dust and dried dirt on the protective glass. “We can hang these in the front lobby and on the walls in the house—and we’ll continue the tradition and make our own.”
“Miss Savage! Can you come here?” called one of the guys from the wings.
She left the pair of girls with rags and glass cleaner and answered that call—and then went on to see to countless others that took her all over the building.
It wasn’t until the volunteers had been there for over an hour, with Vivien answering nonstop questions and giving direction, that she had the opportunity to step back onto the main stage. There’d been no strange breezes, no shifting in the air, no unexpected lights or shadows…and for that, she was grateful.
And yet trepidatious. It was as if she were waiting for another shoe to drop.
With that in mind, with an icy chill reminding her of the creepy shadow and the strange lights, Vivien walked upstage to the back, where the wordsGO OR DIEhad seemed to burn.
