Disclaimer: All recognisable characters and associated paraphernalia are copyright Tanya Huff and various television companies. No profit is being made off of this work.

Note: This follows after my fic Prosperity and sits in canon arc somewhere between "The Devil You Know" and "Wrapped." Prosperity doesn't have to be read to understand what is going on here plot-wise, but I recommend that you read it for character development.

Summary: Cast and crew of a production of 'Macbeth' are dying for no seeable reason. When the producer comes to Vicki for help, the last thing she expects to discover is that the old superstition of speaking the name in a theatre might have basis in fact.

Something Wicked

Prologue

Ice no longer frosted the glass windows of the new Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts. It was most definitely spring once again, and the towering opera house had lived through its second winter as a functioning theatre. People crossing where University met Queen barely noticed the building anymore, unless it was where they were headed for as they raced across the four lane road the was University Avenue.

Elizabeth was usually one of those who ignored the opera house's presence - she lived and worked close to here and it had ceased interesting her in the second week after the construction walls had come down around it. However, today was different somehow. Today she could feel something coming from the building, though she wasn't as all sure what the feeling was, or where it had come from. She wasn't usually the sensitive type.

At least, she wasn't the type that was sensitive to psychic stuff. She left that to people on fantasy programs on television, and people who proclaimed themselves as Tarot and Palm readers and had tiny little shops above restaurants where they'd milk money out of you and then claim that you had to come back for another session later, because everything was blurry but it could come clear. She'd never thought highly of them. Why couldn't they find a real job, like everyone else in the city?

But this wasn't about Tarot card readers. At least, she really hoped it wasn't about Tarot card readers. She'd never gotten weird vibes off of psychics, but she was definitely getting them off of the opera house right now. Strange. She didn'tthink anyone had died there. It would've been all over the papers if someone had. Maybe the subway had just gone by under her feet and she was just feeling the wind coming up from the grates in the sidewalk. Sure, she should be used to it by now, but no one else was reacting to anything, so what was wrong with her?

It could be exhaustion. She pondered that for a few long moments as she made her way down the sidewalk and passed the towering building, headed for the entrance to the PATH system that would let her finish her walk to work in warmth.

"Wouldn't go in there, were I you," a woman's voice said near her ear as she reached for the door that led to the underground tunnels. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and spun, looking around for the person who had spoken to her. Normally, she would have ignored it. Random people who tried to start conversations with strangers on Toronto streets tended to be ignored by the rest of the population, who were only concerned with getting to their destination as quickly as possible.

Something about the voice though, had sent a chill through her body and down to her bones. It spoke to the depths of her subconscious, some remaining animalistic part of her being - that she didn't even believe existed - and caused her brain to rail against progressing any further on her commute. 'Can't do that. Too dangerous.' Her mind was telling her.

But the source of the voice wasn't anywhere to be found. If anything, the people walking up and down the sidewalk around her were trying to force themselves into a casual appearance, so that they wouldn't be noticed by her. They thought she was crazy. She couldn't blame them, because she was starting to think so too.

'Okay. No one there, and you can't afford to be late for work again,' she scolded herself, finally fighting against herself and pulling the door open. It was silent on the other side. The hallway should have been full of people rushing to work, even if they were only the retail workers who manned the stores that lined the tunnels of the PATH system. Instead, it was deserted. The disembodied voice had been right, even if she didn't want to admit that she had heard it. She really didn't want to be here.

Shaking herself, Elizabeth began to walk through the passage, shucking her coat off and hanging it on her arm as she glanced at the locked doors that were the underground entrance to the Four Seasons Centre. She couldn't get rid of the feeling that there was something seriously wrong down here, and it was starting to make her skin crawl. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet. She hadn't had her morning coffee. Nothing was allowed to mess up her day before she'd even had her coffee.

Secure in that, and more than confident in the general good nature of the people of Toronto, Elizabeth decided that she still had more than enough time to get to work, and that a two minute detour really wouldn't hurt her any, even if her bosshad been on a rampage lately. Curious, even though she didn't want to be, and even though the hair that was standing on the back of her neck was telling her that she should really just go to work and then take a different route home, Elizabeth crossed the hall and peered through the glass doors and into the hallway beyond.

There wasn't much to see, really. There was probably a staircase somewhere that led to the actual opera house. However, even an empty corridor wasn't doing anything to soothe her nerves. There was something going on here. There had to be. Maybe she should call the police, but what could she say? 'Hi, sorry to bother you, but the Four Seasons Centre is giving me weird vibes. No, I'm not on any medications.' Right. Because she really needed to deal with the repercussions of that.

Frowning and shaking her head, Elizabeth turned away from the doors. She was being stupid. She'd probably just ate something funny at dinner and it had decided to make its presence known as she crossed the street. She'd go to the office, have a coffee, get some work done and go home to sleep afterward. She was sure that by about nine-thirty she would be feeling normal again anyway.

Still… What had that flash her peripheral vision had caught when she had turned her head been? Against her will, she turned her head back to look through the doors. Somewhere above, she swore that she heard the sound of an organ being played - but that was impossible. Even if someone was rehearsing on the stage, the building had to be soundproof. Surely it wouldn't carry this far? And then, she felt a chill, as though someone had poured ice water down her back. There were eyes, disembodied eyes, staring back at her from the other side of the glass.

Frozen in shock, Elizabeth couldn't move, even though all she wanted to do was turn and run. To the office, home; she didn't care where. She just needed to get out, as quickly as possible. But her legs were frozen, she couldn't move. "No," she heard herself whisper.

"Macbeeethhh…" a woman's voice rasped. It was the same one as before, she was sure of it. Even as she heard it though, the world went black, and she didn't think anymore.

Chapter One Preview

"What do you mean there weren't any marks on the body?"

"Just as I said. No marks. An immaculate death," Mohadevan replied. "Maybe you should call Vicki."

"…Not yet," Mike growled, shaking his head