"The first step is to get her to appear before us. After that, Cer will trap her and we can chat. She's an actress. I'm sure she'll love to talk about herself."

"Uhm..." I look back and forth between the two of them, wondering how the hell we're going to pull this off. "And if she's not cooperative?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." Thea shrugs. As she leans in, she whispers, "Pun intended." She waits a second before she starts giggling. Wherever she heard that line, she's definitely taken it upon herself to include it in her daily vocabulary.

With a plan in mind—or the semblance of one—we pay the bill and head to the theatre for the start of the musical.

The theatre's hallway is filled with framed pictures of influential people from the history of the theatre. Walking around, I catalog all the images, half in awe at stepping inside such a historically rich venue, but mostly attentive for any potential clue.

"That's her." I point to one of the frames. The picture is in black and white, and Olive is wearing a French-style fur ensemble.

"I don't think anyone has a problem with her ghost," Thea adds as she catches up with us. I turn slightly. I hadn't even realized she'd remained behind.

"What do you mean?"

"All the people at the entrance were talking about the ghost and were excited about potentially seeing her. Even the person at the ticket booth was joking about it, saying she's been around for decades. He was instructing men—apparently, she's partial to men—to greet her and blow her a kiss."

"Hmm," Cer grunts, his eyes narrowing as he looks around.

"You're thinking about the same thing I am, aren't you?" Thea pulls on her brother's sleeve, their eyes meeting.

TWELVE

"What? What are you two thinking about?" I ask, my gaze moving from one to the other.

Cer purses his lips.

"Most of the places that claim to be haunted are likely not haunted anymore. They may have been at one point, but the moment a spirit makes itself known to a living human, a Collector is specifically dispatched to bring it back since that type of interaction is forbidden."

I frown, slowly digesting the information. Does that mean that if Nikki has made himself known to me, a collector will come after him? I gulp at the thought. I've just gotten him back—granted, in a shadowy, barely human form—but I know deep in my gut that it's him. I'd recognize the warmth he instills in me anywhere because only he has the ability to make me feel like that.

He's my person. In life or in death.