I turned the pages of the brittle newspaper one by one until I found page fifteen and the full article. Sir Guillaume hovered over my shoulder, too close for my comfort. "Hey, just remember that I don't like ghosts passing through me. It feels like being hit by an intercity train."

He slipped a fraction farther away, an undeniable pout on his bearded lips. "Excuse me, my dear, it's just that the fragility of living beings keeps surprising me. Forgive my excitement to find out why the Raven gifted you with such an unexpected hint."

I hadn't looked at it this way. Was the supernatural bird trying to manipulate me into action? Why not tell Sir Guillaume then, who had a far better connection to the realm beyond death? Well, I wouldn't find out by woolgathering while I had the journal right in front of my eyes. With a tiny shrug, I started reading, but didn't get beyond the header before Sir Guillaume slipped nearer again and cleared his throat. "Would you mind reading aloud? While I learned to decipher your odd stylised letters long ago, the print is too small for my old eyes."

"Oh, of course." There hadn't been glasses in Guillaume's time. Perhaps I should gift our local ghost with a pair of reading spectres. I took a mental note to find out when his birthday was and if there was a way to make them wearable for him. Before I could concentrate on the journal again, Mister Mortimer jumped into my lap and demanded my attention with a meow. I scratched the cat's chin. "If the Raven thought this article to be an important piece of information, you two do a good job of keeping me from reading it."

The ghost sent me an apologetic smile while the cat licked a paw and rolled onto his back, ignoring my complaints. I scratched his tummy, unable to be angry with either of them. "Let's see. This is about an archaeological excavation near Avenches. Sounds kind of familiar, but somehow, I expected that much." I read the rest of the lead text before I summarised the content. "Seems they found a Roman sanctuary and a cemetery in the wetlands near the Roman city before the construction of the highway began. It says here the archaeologists were surprised by the richness of the hitherto unknown site."

Mister Mortimer purred, and I petted his soft belly fur, scanning the text ahead. The first paragraph pointed out the importance of Aventicum as the capital of the Roman province of the Helvetii, the local Celtic tribe. In the next part, the journalist talked about the method of an archaeological survey ahead of the construction of new infrastructures like highways and railways. I couldn't help but smile at the lengthy explanations. Journalism had changed a lot in these last thirty years. The description of the site itself started only in the second column of the article. I read this part aloud for the benefit of my ectoplasmic companion.

When I paused and took a deep breath, Sir Guillaume harrumphed. "So, the reckless archaeologists disturbed and destroyed several ancient graves. No wonder they stirred up trouble and revengeful ghosts."

"It's possible, but then, I wouldn't call it reckless. Archaeologists and even cemetery gardeners open old graves all the time. If from each one an unhappy ghost would pop, eager to take revenge, the living would be outnumbered and in serious trouble in the meantime."

Guillaume walked with long strides up and down through the living room, ignoring Lou's furniture. "Now you mention it, most of the buried souls might have moved on long ago. Some never even spend a day as a ghost. There are probably only a few with unfinished business still hanging around from an era so far back."

"Right. And I already knew about the excavation of the En Chaplix cemetery. There must be something in this article that is more important. I can't imagine the Raven playing a hoax on me." I continued reading aloud while Guillaume slumped down in Lou's favourite chair and crossed his arms.

The journalist delivered an accurate description of the sculpture of Triton and the Nereid, although he forgot to mention how little the nymph appreciated the god's attention. I stopped and looked up. "This sculpture is on display at the museum's exhibition. I saw it today, it's quite impressive stonework. I wonder if this is the important part?"

Guillaume shrugged. "A relief? Sounds rather boring, if you ask me. Isn't there something more exciting?"

"No, next comes a rather dry paragraph about the graves, and—oh. Listen to this."

I picked up the newspaper and held it into the light of Lou's reading lamp. "'In one corner of the great memoria, we made an inconspicuous but extraordinary find,' the responsible archaeologist points out. The specialists believe this small, folded lead tablet to be a curse tablet, a so-called defixio."

Guillaume's eyes lit up in an eager orange gleam. "A curse. That must be the reason the Raven pushed your nose at this. Does the writer give more details?"

I shook my head. "No, not much, unfortunately. Just that these tablets were folded several times with the writing on the inside. This one is no exception, and they didn't know the content of the potential curse when the article was written."

Guillaume sank deeper into the armchair, his ectoplasmic form disappearing in the upholstery. He didn't care. "A pity. Just when the puzzle became interesting."

"Yes, agreed." Perhaps Vic could tell me more about the defixio and its ancient curse. "I'll have to ask Matt for his friend's number. She seemed savvy about this place, so perhaps she'll be keen to help."

The ghost perked up, his eyes glowing, and I grinned. "No, Sir Guillaume, it's too late to call Matt right away. This will have to wait until to—"

The cheery ringtone of my phone interrupted me. I pulled it out of my backpack and stared at the unknown mobile number displayed on the screen. With a shrug, I accepted the call.

"Sandrine? Sorry to disturb you at this hour." Vic sounded out of breath and—was this desperation? "Matt gave me your number and told me you might still be available."

I glanced at Sir Guillaume and thought about Lou, whose return was due any minute. Available was a stretch, but her timing wasn't too bad either. "Depends on what you need me to do tonight."

She cleared her throat. "Not much. First and most important, I want to apologise for Paul's behaviour today."

"That was hardly your fault." Paul was an adult. He should know the basics of civilised human interaction—and act like a grown-up and responsible person.

Vic snorted. "I invited you to the dig, and he threw you out, which is unacceptable. I should have stood up to him straight away, but didn't. Please forgive me."

"It's fine, don't worry. Perhaps you can give me a tour another time—when your touchy boss isn't around."

"The point is, he isn't my superior and had no right to interfere with my decisions or boss you and my coworkers around. He's a colleague I have to work with, though, and if this goes on much longer, I'll have to draw the line." Her reluctant tone and faltering voice made me suspect that drawing the line, in this case, would include quitting her beloved job.

"Can't you escalate, tell your real boss?" I felt sorry for her, but out of my depth, too—considering my recent personal history of job failures.

A deep sigh told me everything I had to know. "With all the odd stuff going on in the world and the severe financial cuts we're facing, our boss has neither time nor the patience to care for petty squabbles amongst the employees. I'll have to cross this swamp on my own—and try to stay afloat and keep Chiara and Béa out of it. They both need the job more than I do."

This sounded bad, but I couldn't promise her much help. "If you need to talk, I'm here. I can drop by tomorrow after work, if you like."

"Thanks, San. Matt offered the same when he called earlier, and I'd be glad to meet with both of you tomorrow. This brings me to the other reason for this call."

I raised my eyebrows for the benefit of Sir Guillaume, who perched on the edge of the armchair now, his gaze on my face. "And what would this reason be?"

"It's a long story." She sighed. "Paul was still in a mood and disappeared mid-afternoon, when he'd finished extracting the urn. This left me to deliver the remaining finds to the depot tonight after work myself. There were only a few cases of less important stuff, as our friend with the anger issue had taken his precious urn when he stormed off. It was past six when I arrived and Alex had already left, but I have a key for this kind of situation. I dropped off my load in the entrance area and was about to leave when I heard a noise in the back between the pallet shelves."

She hesitated, and for a long moment, I only heard her breathing. "San, I swear I'm not the anxious type. So I put down my stack of boxes and went to check. I thought we might face a rat infestation, or that Alex had enclosed the neighbour's cat when he left."

Another pause. Sir Guillaume edged closer, ignoring the fact he sat on thin air now, his bushy eyebrows two raised arcs and his eyes gleaming a dark orange. "Your friend has guts."

I didn't ask how he could follow Vic's side of the conversation. That was something I would have to investigate later. Right now, I wanted to hear the rest of her story. "And what was it?"

"I went all the way to the back, checking every single row. Things remained quiet. But when I turned around and walked back, relieved I was alone after all, I glimpsed a faint movement in an aisle. I approached to investigate, and the space seemed empty at first. But then I saw it."

She paused, and I waited, afraid that if I said something, she'd never find the courage to tell me. "I saw a ghost. It hovered in the middle of the aisle and clawed at a box as if it were searching for something in the shelves."