Brothers of Brimstone Book 4: Axel
Autore
Elizabeth Gordon
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Polly thought she was done with the spotlight, but when her coven tasks her with investigating a haunted playhouse, she finds herself back in the dramaâjust not the kind she expected. Brimstone sends Axel, a demon with his own agenda, to assist her, much to her annoyance. But as they uncover the theaterâs deadly secretâone that could rewind time itselfâPolly realizes sheâll need him more than she thought. Someone is resetting reality, and if they succeed, the world may never recover. If Polly ever wants to act again, sheâll have to give the performance of a lifetimeâbefore the final curtain falls for good.
Prologue
Book 4: Axel
VICTOR
In the eyes of the public, Victor Humphry was merely an usher at the playhouse. However, there was more to him and his job than met the eye.
The attendees mistook him for a dull guy who simply ushered them to their seats, but they had no clue who he was after the last curtain call.
He wasnât handsome by anyoneâs account, but he was charming. His bedposts were full of notches left by actresses who had begun their careers in the theaters before becoming starlets in the silent films.
Of course, he knew the actresses were using him in hopes of landing starring roles, but that didnât bother Victor. He was happy to be at their disposal.
There were hushed whispers about talking films, but Victor was sure that it was a bunch of flimflam. Even if talking films were possible, he doubted that they would hold the same mystique as the live-action performances that unfolded on the stage.
There was something magical about watching an actor perform live. Watching them catch their breath when they realized they had missed their cue and seeing their cheeks flush when they experienced a wardrobe malfunction filled him with suspense.
Even though those moments would be enough to send anyone fleeing in embarrassment, professional performers always mustered up the courage to continue for the sake of the show. That was what made acting an art.
Victor would take a few human follies and hiccups over the cut-and-paste performances shown on the silver screen.
Others must have shared Victorâs disdain for the movies. Tonightâs performance at the Profitâs Playhouse was a musical called The Chicken or the Hen. Even with a name that lacked dramatics, the house was packed tonight.
After Victor had ushered the last of the patrons to their seats, he nipped down the street to the new movie theater at the end of town. He was pleased to see that the lines outside were sparse.
From the closed doors of the theater, Victor could hear the final song play, signaling the upcoming intermission. He hurried and buttoned up his usherâs jacket and moved into position, prepared to release theatergoers who had refrained from using the facilities out of fear that they would interrupt the performance.
The song scheduled for the half-act was an upbeat solo sung by Veronica Cramer, one of the theaterâs up-and-coming stars. She was beautiful and vocally gifted.
Although Victor agreed that her stage presence was nothing short of ethereal, she was a bit of a prude. He didnât see her making it far in show business.
Victor had not had high hopes for this dud of a play, but he did enjoy the musical numbers, especially the song that closed the first act. He leaned toward the door in anticipation.
However, as Victor pressed his ear against the door, he noticed that the song was being sung off-key, and even the string music sounded funny. The sounds coming from behind the door made his head swim.
He rocked slightly on his heels as he fought off a wave of nausea. He covered his mouth and retreated a few steps as he attempted to recover from the odd sensation.
As the song came to an end, Victor waited an additional sixty seconds before he threw open the doors in anticipation of a slew of theatergoers anxious to use the nearest facilities and grab a snack.
After he completed the count, he turned the knobs and opened the doors wide. He quickly stepped aside, giving the audience a wide berth. But the stampede didnât come. The only thing that emerged was a foul odor.
Victor recoiled as his eyes watered. He dug into his pocket and extracted his handkerchief, covering his nose as he blinked away the tears that had begun to run down his cheeks.
As repulsed as he was by the smell, he knew he had to investigate. It was his duty. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and peered inside the theater. He immediately regretted it as he was greeted by a horrific sight.
Only an hour before, he had greeted the upper-class couples that regularly patronized the playhouse, working-class men who only came to see the pretty actresses, and young sweethearts desperate to escape their parentsâ watchful gazes.
Victor had welcomed each one, pleased to discover that the play had sold out. Before he had closed the door, he had taken a moment to drink in the vitality that had filled the room.
The seats were still packed, but the healthy bodies that had entered the theater no longer occupied them. Instead, the chairs were filled with rotting corpses.
A sound drew Victorâs attention to the stage, where he witnessed a skeleton, wearing the costume reserved for the star of the show, collapsing.
