It was hard to say what the theatre’s success had been by looking at the exterior. The electric letters had fallen or were askew. The entire place was covered in a layer of dust. Thomas and Jaq had to pry wooden planks off the door and dismantle the rusted hinges. He led the way with a lantern and Owensby took the rear with one as well.

Their entrance opened upon a corridor which led either backstage or up to the boxed seats. They arranged to split up; Thomas gave Viktor his lamp so he and Jaq could go one way. The air was musty and stale.

“You don’t have asthma, do you?” he asked.

“No,” she answered as she unwound her scarf. He followed suit with his own, tying it around the lower half of his face to defend from the dust.

They ascended the stairs and Jaq paused when he did. He sniffed the air. Beside them was a thick curtain. Viktor shielded his face as dust rained down when he moved it. The seats of the box were stage left, and appeared so old that the seat cushions could have been red, blue, or purple for all they knew. Across from them, Thomas and Owensby emerged in the box at stage right.

Dimly lit by their lanterns, were rows upon rows of dried, hollowed and rotted bodies like husks with beetles crawling over them. A body for every seat.

Jaq clutched Viktor’s jacket. He turned the light onto one of the bodies in the box with them. A beetle was in its mouth, chewing away hungrily.

Viktor and Jaq met each other’s gaze, jaws open as they shook their heads, leaving. Owensby and Thomas caught up to them on the street. “Where do you two think you’re going?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Jaq declared, “but fuck that. Sorry I’m not sorry.”

“We need to understand what’s happening here!” Owensby ordered.

Jaq turned around, gesturing with her hands. “Fine! That’s fine! You go and understand, then get back to us.”

Owensby scoffed. “Teagan, I expected this from you, but Jaq. You’re running away because you’re afraid of insects? Carrion creatures do not feed on the living!”

“One of those carrion beetles was in my room not two hours ago,” Viktor said hotly. “I have no interest in myself, or my butler spending time with creatures whose diet consists of flesh.”

Owensby gaped at them. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Thomas grimaced. “You really ought to move house, mate.”

“He can’t move!” Owensby exclaimed. “Things are happening inside that house related to these locations! Things are gathering in this city!”

“Then send them a message,” Jaq proclaimed. “Did the theatre have a sprinkler system?”

“There are manual pumps, in case the stage lights caught fire,” he answered.

“Would they work now?”

“With some tinkering, possibly,” Owensby considered.

“Find the water tank and fill it with oil. Light the place up,” Jaq finished.

Thomas curled his mustache, pointing approvingly at the butler. “I like that. She gets my vote.”

Owensby looked like he might combust himself. “We cannot set the building on fire! We might burn the city down!”

“What if it was raining when it happened?” Jaq provided. “Everything else would be damp…the fire inside would burn quickly but slow down once it reached the moisture outside.”

“We’d still need to take precautions,” Viktor added. “Flame retardant chemicals exist. We could confine it within the theatre, seal the doors to limit oxygen, and the fire would eat what it could before it extinguished.”

“Two votes,” Thomas announced. “I cast two votes.”

Owensby looked between them, reluctant but considering. Viktor pointed out, “You’re the richest man here, Sir Owensby, with a web of connections. You could acquire what we need.”

“This solves nothing,” Owensby countered. “Sir Teagan, we are men of science. We must know why.”

Sadly, none of them had a counterargument to that.

Once more inside the theatre, they delicately walked through the aisles. Cobwebs, dirt, dead beetles, and scattered bones crunched underfoot. The insects ignored the living occupants entirely. Every now and then a beetle would lazily fly across the theatre, but for the most part, everything was calm.

That did not erase the grimace on Jaq’s face as she followed Viktor throughout the audience.

“These bodies have been here for at least a year,” the doctor projected.

From the stage right box above, Owensby called down, “These bodies are dry as mummies…as if the blood and moisture has been sucked from them.”

Viktor leaned forward to examine a beetle gnawing on some lost soul’s hand. “These carrion beetles…apart from their unusual size are eating very slowly. They’ve been eating these people for months, growing and bloating until they die.”

“Like ticks,” Jaq growled behind him.

“Can you find any identification on the bodies?” Thomas called. “Nothing but bank notes up here.”

Viktor traded his lamp to Jaq and used her pistol to swat away beetles from one of the corpses sitting on the aisle. Reaching into the jacket pocket, he extracted a money clip. The notes were as dry as the holder’s skin.

He plucked the corroded chain from the waistcoat pocket. The hands had long since stopped telling time but inscribed was an ambivalent message:

With love.

-TM

“What form of identification would people bring to the theatre?” he wondered.

Jaq sighed behind him, adjusting the scarf over her face, “Are we going to check every single one of these bodies…?”

“Unless you have a better idea,” Viktor prompted.

“Where’s the cloakroom?” she said. “If moths haven’t devoured them, there’s probably something in the room where people left their coats.”

The doctor faced her, astounded. “That’s brilliant.” He took the light once more and they headed to the theatre lobby. Their shoes left a trail on the dust of the floor. The cloakroom was locked, so Thomas came to unlock it. The person in charge of the cloakroom had not escaped the disaster either.

Stepping over the skeleton, Viktor carefully began rummaging through the coats. One of the racks had fallen, creating a heap of fur and wool. A moth showed itself occasionally before his eyes locked on a booklet.

“Ah,” Viktor exhaled, triumphant. He read the first set of names of people who had checked their coats. “Malcolm Morse. Alessandra Timon. Christopher Wring. Beatrice Cordnovia. Philip Rowling, and more.”

“Excellent,” Owensby congratulated. His head pivoted, like a bug was flying around his head. “Do you hear that?”

Viktor focused on getting back into the lobby. As he stepped over the body of the theatre employee, something touched his ankle. Thinking it was a beetle, he finished stepping out and turned around to find the corpse’s hand clasped around his leg. Its teeth were chattering.

Viktor gasped and lurched backward, dropping the lamp. It broke beside the corpse’s frame. Jaq caught him and dragged him backwards as fire crawled over the forgotten coats and Thomas kicked the skeleton away.

“My God…” Owensby breathed, staring inside the theatre. All the heads were turning towards them.

The cloakroom was already engulfed. Viktor regained his footing and Jaq grabbed his arm, running toward the front doors. The four of them broke right through the boards. Behind them, flames were consumed the theatre.

Strangely enough, it was raining.

Still holding Jaq’s arm and striding briskly away from the pillar of smoke, Viktor leaned down to murmur, “Sea Servant?”

“Yep!” she chirped crisply.