"Lorraine was in her last month of pregnancy when I left for a business trip." Theo turned on his heel and continued his pacing. "I am—I was an architect and had finally found a job in a renowned firm. Not an easy feat after years wasted in the war. We hoped to win a major project in Bruxelles." He stopped by the tiled stove and turned towards us, arms crossed. I had no problem believing he was an architect, and it explained his preference for black turtlenecks.

"My plan was to ride the next train home when the contracts were signed, but then a message from Lorraine reached me in my hotel. She was in premature labour, and I cut the trip short, dropping everything to get back. If only..." He trailed off, a longing expression on his face.

"What happened?" Matt had overcome his former nervousness and leaned forward, his gaze glued to our partner.

"My client suggested flying. Europe was still recovering from the war, and it would be much faster than a train. There was a place available on the Sabena flight from Bruxelles to London where I'd get a connection to Zurich. A few hours instead of several days. When I boarded the Dakota in the afternoon, the weather was awful and got worse over England. Night fell, and we had fog during the approach to Heathrow. The last thing I remember is the plane lurching, dipping forward, and then the hard impact before an inferno consumed us."

Matt called up a search engine on his pad, his nimble fingers scrolling through the results. "I got it. Douglas DC-3C OO-AWH of Sabena airlines, crashed in Heathrow, on the second of March 1948. All but two of the three crew and nineteen passengers were killed. Two airfield workers pulled a few persons out of the fire, and—oh." I stepped up to study the list of victims over his shoulder. It mentioned one Swiss passenger.

I glanced from the screen to Theo, who seemed shaky, and nodded. "Yes, that sounds right. My last impressions were screams, blistering heat, and in the end, nothing."

"Hm-hm." The husky voice from behind me made me whirl around. Sir Guillaume entered the library through a bookshelf and bowed from the hip, his usual smile curving his lips. "Good evening, my lady, gentlemen. I couldn't help but overhear your discussion of matters that might concern me." He strutted around the coffee table and studied Matt's ashen face. "Are you ill, young man? For a living person, your complexion matches my long-lost scion very much."

Worried for Matt, I sat down beside him and squeezed his shivering shoulders. "Matt? I'd like to introduce you to Guillaume de Corbières."

"Um." He straightened his back to acknowledge our guest with a nod but didn't move from my side. "Nice to meet you, Sir Guillaume."

"The pleasure is mine, I assure you. But now, back to business. Why did you turn up here decades after your death, Theo Matran?"

"To find my beloved Lorraine, I guess." Theo frowned and took up his restless pacing. "Although I can't remember a thing between my death on that British airfield and the moment I studied the ad for the job as a ghost hunter, I think."

I found it hard to imagine he never asked himself who he was and why he came here.

"So you applied for the job and came to the interview, just like that?" I snapped my fingers. "Didn't you feel odd, out of place, or something?"

"No, I was focused, driven by a pressing urge to be here, in Corbières. None of you asked me personal questions, so I don't even know if I remembered anything from my past life, I didn't dwell on it." He had a point, there. Matt, Lou and I had taken him for granted and been reluctant to talk about our background.

Still walking back and forth like a caged tiger, Theo shrugged. "It never occurred to me that something was amiss until we left the castle earlier today."

Guillaume lifted a hand. "Stop, young man. Your steps might no longer wear down carpets, but it is time to make a stand. The spectral energy accumulated in your ectoplasmic form needs an outlet, but I doubt this is the place you want to be."

"The cottage calls me, or its occupant." Theo suspended his pacing, his face a paler shade than usual. "But I couldn't get there, with the crumbling slope, the mud, and the threatening storm."

"Old protections to keep off visitors might still be in place." Guillaume scratched his beard. "Your wife was a cunning adept and used the magic lore she inherited from the Catillon, her forebear, well."

The name rang a bell. I remembered reading about her in the documentation Lou supplied. "Catillon, wasn't she the last woman tortured and executed as a witch when the castle served as the bailiff's seat?" I'd felt sorry for the old woman, aware I might have shared her destiny a few centuries in the past.

"She was a gifted healer, a wise woman, but got on the wrong side of some important people, the bailiff included. It's one of many sad chapters in the history of Corbières. Her descendant, Lorraine," he continued, "now, she was a remarkable person, and a rare wielder of power."

"You knew her?" Theo's face lit up, and he stepped closer to Guillaume. "Please tell me what happened after I was gone."

"Bound to the castle, I only know what I observed myself. You remember the castle served as a monastery back in your time? One night, your Lorraine came to the front porch and asked for help. The Benedictine monks were reluctant to allow her in, but she was in labour, and they couldn't turn her away. Lorraine gave birth to your son in the castle's kitchen, and a tough birth it was. The monks did their best to help her and even sent a message to you, calling you home. You never came, though."

The desperation in Theo's eyes broke my heart. Matt placed an arm around my shoulders, giving me the support I longed to give our ghostly partner. I sighed. "A heartbreaking story, but it doesn't explain why Lorraine haunts the cottage."

"No, and like you, I can only guess the rest." Guillaume offered a sad smile. "Lorraine had to leave the monastery as soon as she and the child were well enough. She pleaded for protection and claimed she didn't know where to go."

Theo turned on his heel and resumed his pointless walk. "The company might have tricked her out of my wage. She couldn't go home to her parents, as they both died in the last years of the war. But why choose the cottage?"

Guillaume shrugged. "The owners of the farmsteads by the river had already left, and the water in the valley was rising. The abandoned houses might have offered your wife shelter."

In my imagination, I saw Lorraine stumbling down the slope to the cottage, tears in her eyes and her newborn child in her arms. "Poor girl, she must have been desperate. But why stay in the house when the lake rose?"

Guillaume slumped into the leather armchair. "A few weeks later, Lorraine knocked at the castle door one more time, asking for medicine for her sick child. But the monks were not versed in child care and couldn't help her, so she left empty-handed."

"To care for her sick or dying son—and she probably cursed everyone in her desperation." I could understand the young mother's frustration. "But why the ravens?"

"Ah, I can provide that answer." Guillaume locked his gaze with Theo's. "George, the last official Lord of Corbières, died in 1576. He had two illegitimate children, but only one of their lines survived. You are my far distant descendant. When you died, yours and Lorraine's son became the last heir of the Corbières."

"So the ravens flocked to Theo's infant child, the newborn Raven Lord?" Matt ran a hand through his hair, like always when he was thinking hard. "And why did you mention protections? Against what?"

Theo sighed. "Lorraine was an extraordinary person. And yes, San, you remind me of her. She would have tried everything to save the child's life. When she failed and felt she was in danger, she might well have resorted to unconventional means."

"The monks talked about evacuating her from the cottage before it was flooded." Guillaume ran a hand over his eyes. I'd never heard him subdued before. "I fear she cursed the access ways."

"And that's why even I can't reach her now." Theo's frown deepened.

"Are you sure?" An idea took root in my mind, but before I could voice it, the door cracked open, and Lou joined our impromptu assembly.

He took in the scene, his gaze lingering on Guillaume in his translucent mail shirt. "Oh, my..." He trailed off, joining the club of the pale-faces around me.

This time, Matt volunteered to make the introductions. "Hey Lou, meet Guillaume, the Raven Lord of Corbières. I think you wished to make his acquaintance. Also, it looks like we solved the puzzle of the ravens."

Theo snorted. "Not yet, there is still no way for me to reach—"

"Yes, there is." I grinned, no longer able to hold back with my idea. "Guillaume, I think your help is needed. I heard you had outstanding success as a teacher in certain ghostly matters."

The spectre's glowing eyes lit up, and he bowed. "Always at the service of a fair lady. It is my pleasure to guide my scion on his path of duty."

A smirk spread across Guillaume's face as he took Theo's hand and pulled him through the bookshelf straight into the wall. His descendant's wide-eyed surprise turned into unbelieving shock when first his guide and then his own arm disappeared in the wall. An instant later, both ghosts were gone.

My strained laughter was cut short when Lou wobbled and crumpled to the floor, hitting his head hard on the coffee table.

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