Prologue: Drury Lane, Scene II (Michael)
The Theatre Royal at Drury Lane was the oldest theater in London. Not the building itself, though the building was plenty old, having been built in 1812, after the prior theater had burned down in flames. But no, the Theatre Royal went back two hundred years before even then, and the current building was the fourth to bear this name. The Theatre Royal had been showing plays back when America was only a glimmer in the eye. It had seen Shakespeare and Miss Saigon, pantomimes, musicals, and the spoken word. It was the oldest theater in London, and all this history had weight.
It was also the most haunted theater in Britain. Charles Macklin, one of the greats of the 18th century stage, had thrust a dagger through the eye of another actor in a fight over a wig. Joe Grimaldi, the famous clown, also visited the Theatre Royal on occasion. And there were countless less known spooks and spectres, nameless apparitions that would appear when a play was performed.
Michael in earlier years would have dismissed this, but when one is a werewolf, the possibility of ghosts is much easier to believe. Though even so, the haunts of Drury Lane were not a cold and cruel gang of spectres, but the protectors of the building and its actors, a comforting presence. So they said, at least.
As the young werewolf made his way behind stage, however, one had to wonder what the ghosts would do to an interloper such as Michael. One of the less pleasant laws of the supernatural world was that the uncanny attracted the uncanny. Ghosts who would ignore a mortal may find a werewolf reason enough for a visit. If they were real.
According to Penrose's dossier, to find Montjoy, Michael had to make his way to the basement, specifically the part beneath the stage. There, amidst the props and ropes for special effects, Michael was to announce himself loudly as a messenger to Sir Royston Montjoy. Then he was to wait.
Michael had just reached the door for the stairs to the basement when a complication arose, however. This complication took its form in the shape of Mr. Theo Alexander, director and generally useful person to know, who said loudly. "Michael! What are you doing here?"