To my relief, Matt's black van turned into the parking lot ten endless minutes later and he and Vic arrived at our improvised ritual ground under the bridge leading a dishevelled Paul between them. Dark rings around the conservator's eyes, his pale face, shaggy hair, and his torn and dirty clothes made me think of a zombie. Nothing reminded me of the arrogant and lofty person I'd met last week.

Under the complacent eyes of the buffalo, the possessed man paced around the circle marked by the candles like a caged lion, both objects of his desire out of his reach inside. Cinna floated next to the fire bowl-turned-brazier and swayed in the gentle breeze, her unreadable dark eyes following his every move.

"Alright, let's start." I pushed my doubts aside and slid the shard I still held in my palm back in place, almost dropping the lamp when I shivered in a sudden gust of chilly air. Matt and Vic joined us in the circle, leaving Paul alone on the outer side. His gaze was more focused now, intent on the artefact in my hand. I held it up to begin with the ritual.

"Paul, Marius, I invite you to join us in this sacred circle—intra." With a reluctant step, the possessed man entered the candle ring, his eyes darting from Cinna to the lamp and back, but he didn't show signs of aggression. A quick glance told me that Matt and Lou stood ready to restrain him should he change his mind.

Relieved, I held up the lamp and sprinkled a handful of candied fruit into the fire, hoping the Roman gods or who else felt responsible for this mess would accept the unusual offering.

While the smell of burnt caramel wafted around us and mixed with the strong musky scent of the buffalo, a black bird dived under the bridge. The Raven cawed, his wings almost touching the flames while he flew a narrow circle above us and came to rest on the tall fence of the pasture. There, he folded his wings and watched the scene with beady eyes.

I clamped my fingers around the lamp candy bag to suppress the shaking of my hands. At least my limited knowledge of Roman rituals, gained from the internet, mixed with Vic's suggestions and supplemented by my vague memories of a few rudimentary voodoo traditions, achieved something—and if it only raised the interest of the Raven.

Under the eyes of my audience, including the buffalo and the bird, I set both lamp and candy down beside the brazier and opened the bottle of high-proof rum I'd brought. Then I reached for the makeshift blessing tablet and held it by the ornate handle over the brazier while I poured a generous splash of alcohol into the fire. A sizzling blue flame licked at the silver tablet and singed the hair on my arm.

It didn't hurt, and I ignored it. "Whoever you are, powers involved, accept this offering and heed this humble blessing." An unnatural quiet lay over the place. Even the buffalo had stopped snorting or shuffling their feet.

I cleared my throat and read the inscription on the tablet aloud, adding the translation. "Marius et Cinna, ut maledictio frangatur, libertas aeterna. Marius and Cinna, may the curse be broken, and may you enjoy eternal freedom."

Another splash of rum, another flame. Matt slipped his hands into two kitchen gloves from the hostel cantina, took the tray, and carried it to the hole Vic had prepared. So far, everything went according to plan. He set the makeshift tablet down, the writing on top. I poured some more rum on it and added a handful of candy before Vic shovelled the earth back over it. While she was occupied, I returned to the fire, picked up Cinna's lamp, lifted it high above my head, and shattered the artefact on the rim of the fire bowl.

Vic whirled around at the sound of breaking pottery, her gaze scalding. "Ouch, San, was this necessary? Paul will kill me." She tramped down the smoking soil over the tray with more fervour than necessary.

But Paul wasn't in a state to kill anyone. With glazed eyes, he stood by the fireside like a statue, and for a moment, I feared he would topple over and burn himself. Instead, a translucent man in a short tunic, plate armour, and iron-studded sandals drifted out of his body inch by inch. Paul groaned, swayed, and crumpled to the ground backwards while the Roman soldier floated through the fire to take Cinna's hands, whispering something in throaty Latin.

Sir Guillaume, who had kept back during my ritual, drifted to my side. "Marius asks her to forgive his unjustified curse. He swears he believed she married the other man of her own free will and learned the truth only when he researched her brutal death." The knight rubbed his eyes. "Stupid smoke."

I watched as a smile blossomed on Cinna's face and Marius embraced her, whispering unintelligible endearments into her ear. Something tugged at my curls and I looked up to see the Raven flutter away. With a satisfied caw, the bird disappeared into the lightening sky to the east. He seemed to think he was no longer needed here.

When I turned my attention back to Marius and Cinna, their figures already lost substance, faded, and dispersed in a few curly wisps of white smoke. They drifted away through the fence into the pasture, mixed with the breath of the buffalo, and were soon gone.

"May they rest in peace." Sir Guillaume made the sign of the cross. The gesture seemed weird in the context, but I could agree with his heartfelt blessing.

When the remaining adrenaline left my bloodstream, I felt worn out and shivered in the morning breeze, glad we could call it a day and go back home and to bed. I yawned, imagine myself under my warm covers and in Lou's secure embrace. His voice called me back to the ritual grounds.

"San, is there booze left in your bottle?" Right, I'd forgotten about Paul. Lou helped him sit up and placed an arm around his shoulders to support him. "I think our friend could use a swig."

"Yes, here." I handed him the bottle and the bag with the remaining candy, and he guided Paul's shaky hand to the neck of the bottle. "Make him eat some candy first. The sugar will help more than the alcohol."

Vic watched the scene in silence and busied herself collecting the shards of the lamp without a word for her colleague or me. I felt guilty about the broken artefact. "Sorry, Vic, I couldn't think of a way to set the ghosts free without destroying that lamp again."

"I understand, San. It's just a pity for all the work that went into it."

"I know, and I would have avoided breaking it if I had seen another way to mark the deal."

She studied the collection of shards in her palm. "Paul is a gifted conservator. I bet he can fix it, and it will be good as new."

Another thought hit me. Would the ghosts return if the lamp was restored? There was no way to know for sure. I liked my dry lips. "About that, I'd suggest you avoid reassembling it, just to be on the safe side."

She sent me an unreadable glance, but Paul coughed, wiping a few drops of rum from his chin. "I won't dare to glue that thing back together, I swear. Not if it means I risk having to drink more of your hellish brew." He pressed the bottle into Lou's hands with a face as if he'd had to swallow bitter cough medicine.

Lou sniffed at it and shook his head. "Where did you get that firewater?"

"Ha, it's Caribbean rum, the real thing, but I see you two aren't connoisseurs." I wondered if I should take a swig myself, to warm my exhausted body, but decided against it. Perhaps my wits were still needed today. "Do you feel better, Paul?"

"Yes, kind of. But I can't remember anything that happened from the moment we found the urn on Vic's dig, when that unpleasant man's mind invaded me, until tonight."

"That's a common occurrence with possession, I hear." I shrugged. "I doubt you'll get this part of your memories back, but perhaps that's for the better."

He frowned. "Did I do something stupid?"

Matt, who'd been holding back, stepped into the light. "You behaved like a massive jerk."

Paul's eyes widened, and he staggered to his feet. "Matt—I haven't seen you for ages. How are you?"

The flickering light underlined the deep frown edged into my friend's forehead. "I'm fine, I guess."

Paul winced, closing his eyes but opening them seconds later to meet Matt's gaze. "I have to apologise, meant to for a long time. The way I treated you—it was unforgivable. Do you think we can talk about it one of these days?"

Matt rubbed his neck and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "I'd rather not. But—are you still keen on medieval architecture? I'm about to become the substitute warden for Corbières castle. Perhaps you'd like to visit and have a beer in the courtyard one day."

A tentative smile formed on Paul's lips. "I'd love to. Thanks, mate, for whatever you and your friends did tonight."