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Its not really that unusual a contract, just a little sparse in the details. There's something in the city's music hall, haunting is the word they'd used in the contract request, but Aiden's always been leary of trusting the assertions of people he doesn't know. Ghosts have a weird prevalence in the public consciousness that other monsters don't have. Even more common monsters.
But he readies an extra vial of specter just in case, Lam's angry rants about the importance of alchemy and preparedness ringing in his ears from half a continent away.
He's only been backstage at theatres a couple of times, and never one this old, the corridors twisting and thin, more maze-like than he was expecting. The stairs are rickety and there's just a massive hole in one of the stage wings, a sheer drop with a lift Aiden wouldn't trust, rickety railings the only things stopping anyone falling in. The stage traps and ropes for the fly bars also look significantly older than him, and he's not exactly a spring chicken. Honestly he wouldn't be surprised if it is a haunting, place looks like a deathtrap.
However, his medallion's been vibrating since turning into the street outside, not strongly, but there's likely more to it than a simple ghost. He snaps a couple of photos and sends them to the extended wolf pack group chat, Jaskier can likely offer some commentary about the state of the place if one of the other witchers can't.
After his initial sweep, and a couple of quick conversations with the volunteers and staff, he decides to start with the bar, seating and other public areas before heading back into the maze. He'd also been warned by a manager (who somehow still managed to look down her nose at him while all but begging for his help) not to disturb the night's ‘talent’. He'd had half a mind to google who was playing but had immediately gotten distracted by other staff taking him about cold spots, scratches, and sudden sensations of despair and falling, even while seated.
There's less reports of anything happening front of house, but not zero. Surprisingly there's been no complaints by customers, and only a handful by the performers and their own crews. Although there could have been some encounters that haven't been reported, almost all of the issues have been from the staff, often multiple times, some leading to resignations.
Aiden doesn't find much, a couple of spots where his medallion vibrates stronger and do feel a little colder. One of which is even moving, but a Yrden didn't seem to slow it down noticeably, so he's unsure of when to make of that. Maybe he should actually invest in one of those ghost hunting emf / temperature readers like he keeps threatening to do to piss Lam off. Can't hurt in places like this.
He ends up texting Vesemir and a couple of his older brothers to see if they'd encountered anything similar. One of the bartenders, organising various things before the night's opening, slides him over a couple of fingers of something that smells strong when she catches him looking glumly at the doors to backstage, waving him off when he reaches for his wallet.
There's a sudden flicker in the corner of his eye, movement on the balcony above him reflected in the mirror behind the bar, where he can't hear any heartbeat. He jumps, bouncing off the wall to catch hold of the railing and pull himself up, drawing a knife from the sheath along his thigh. The bartenders started gasp and the tinkling of broken glass is the only sound, other than his own blood pounding in his ears.
For a moment there's also no movement, then the wallpaper bulges, a brief impression of a face, then a clawed hand shoots towards his face and Aiden automatically slams up a Quen. The claws bounce off it but his shield doesn't fail, meaning its not likely very strong, but the temperature drops and he feels the echoes of unnatural fear and grief. The whatever it is behind the wallpaper's face appears again, humanoid and soundlessly screaming, before twisting towards the stage and melting back into the wall.
Alright, backstage it is.
Vesemir's texted back with a couple of paragraphs of information, but nothing that looks relevant having now seen it. He texts back a quick update, and sends it to Lam and Cedric too, along with asking for their thoughts on if just stabbing the walls when it appears is a good idea, damage be damned. Nothing in the group chat beyond a meme from Ciri he'll try decipher later.
He drops down from the balcony back into the bar, suggesting gently to the three staff now gathered there, wide eyed and scared, that they may want to clear the building for a bit. Slipping past them he heads towards the door next to the stage, one hand on his dagger the other resting against his medallion, trying to focus on tiny changes.
The soundproofing must be fucking fantastic, likely magical, because the moment he opens the door he can hear a very familiar voice, and breaks into a run, fervently regretting not checking the programme. Aiden slams his way through multiple doors, trying desperately to hold the tour he'd been led on earlier in his head while following the singing, now joined by absent strumming. The closer he gets, the harder his medallion vibrates and he forces the panic down.
Bursting into the green room, he sees a flash of surprised blue eyes before he tackles Jaskier to the ground, paint and plaster claws once again bouncing off his Quen millimeters from Aiden's face. Panting he slowly pushes himself to his knees, one hand on Jaskier's shoulder to keep him still, scanning the walls and desperately hoping that it can't travel through the floors too.
The wall above a low table starts to distort, ratting a bowl of snacks and he throws his knife, burying it up to the hilt in a way it probably shouldn't considering he can see the brickwork behind the paint. His medallion drops back to the baseline its been at since he'd first approached the building, and Aiden slowly lets out a breath, letting Jaskier sit up.
“So not just a social call then. Um, not that I'm always happy to see you.” Jaskier's breathing more quickly than Aiden would like, one hand continuously flexing where Aiden hadn't even noticed it was tangled in his jacket, but not as shaken as he could be for having a wall try decapitate him.
Aiden slowly shakes his head then gently knocks their foreheads together. Standing he turns to look over the whole room then offers Jaskier a hand up, steadying him with a hand on his back. “I'm assuming Geralt isn't here if…” he trails off and just gestures at the knife stick in the wall.
“He's due in tonight, before the show.”
“Any way you think we can hurry that up?”