Louis scratched his scraggly beard. "Look, I try to run a business here. The hospitality sector had a rough time, with the virus, the ongoing drought, and the lake level dropping and leaving us without our chief attraction. A genuine ghost would be perfect compensation for our losses." His eyes gleamed, and with an agitated gesture, he almost toppled over his glass. "Imagine the headlines: 'Ghost Spotted in a Medieval Castle'—the masses seeking an esoteric experience would flock to the hostel. Unfortunately, all we got are ectoplasmic birds. Don't ask me what they eat, but their droppings reek like hell. Plus, they seem to be acidic and raise allergies with—"

The high-pitched jingle of a bell interrupted his rambling explanations. "This must be our number three. Please excuse me for a second."

Moments later, Louis ushered a lanky man around my age into the room. His soft brown eyes, pronounced cheekbones, and Roman nose could be called classic-attractive, but a scowl spoiled the impression. With his tan slacks and white polo shirt he aimed for a professional appearance, yet the tousled brown hair made me wonder if he knew about combs. He carried a bulging duffle bag slung across one shoulder and pulled a giant hard-shell suitcase.

The cat from before followed the newcomer, rubbing its back against his trousers. When the man dumped the bag, it hissed and jumped into my lap where it curled up and, within moments, purred like an organic engine.

Lou grinned. "Mister Mortimer likes you."

"Interesting name." I fondled the cat's chin and was rewarded with an even deeper purr. I'd made at least one friend in this madhouse.

"Well, make yourself comfortable, Matthew. Meet Sandrine and Theo, your prospective partners for the project." Louis filled another glass and handed it to the third musketeer. He sipped at it while he joined me on the sofa.

With all of us seated, Lou returned to his own chair. "Right, where was I?"

"You suggested hiring the three of us to chase birds." Theo crossed his arms, defying Louis' enthusiasm. Perhaps I wasn't the only one with misgivings about the job.

The excitement of the new arrival made up for our lacking delight. "Birds? I hope they taste good on the barbecue."

Huh. Did the guy think he was funny? His whole demeanour spelled 'imposter' to me. No one laughed, and Mister Mortimer squinted his eyes as if he were disgusted.

"We're talking birds from another realm here. No one can see them, but they leave conspicuous evidence." Louis brandished the soiled cloth. "What's worse, they made it a habit to appear during meals."

"Oh." Matt's widened eyes enhanced his innocent, boyish expression. "I see how this could be—inconvenient." He dug a sleek black notebook out of his duffel, snapped it open, and typed away in a fast crescendo. "When did the haunting start?"

Louis tossed the laundry aside. "A few weeks ago, around the time the lake level dropped to a record low."

Matt lifted a hand, announcing a question. "Doesn't an artificial lake's level change all the time?"

Surprise. The man was cleverer as I'd thought after the satnav incident and even had essential local knowledge. But Louis shook his head. "Not like this." He pointed towards the wall in his back. I concluded that this was the direction of the lake. "Have you seen the shore?"

I had, while crossing the bridge on my way here. A broad, sterile, brown band lined the reminder of the lake. It didn't strike me as relevant though, and neither had the others investigated the environment—to judge by their head-shaking.

Louis rubbed his temples. "It's virtually gone. It was already low last autumn, and with the extraordinary dry winter and the lack of snow, the level never recovered in spring. The current drought made things worse. Sure, the power company insists it does its best to withhold enough water for the fish population to survive, but I've never seen the lake drop that far in my life. A few days ago, even the ruins of the flooded cottages reappeared."

"Cottages?" I frowned. They hadn't been mentioned before.

"In the mid–twentieth century, when the Rossens dam was finished, the rising water swallowed several farms by the river's edge." He pointed at a gold-framed, black-and-white photo on the wall behind his desk, depicting a peaceful scene with cows grazing on pastures, forested slopes, and a farmhouse by the riverside.

I recalled a story about another artificial lake where a chapel and a graveyard were submerged. The locals insisted the church bell still tolled upcoming disaster from the depth of the lake.

"Is there a conceivable connection between your ghost birds and those drowned farmsteads?" Matthew's thoughts seemed to run in the same direction. I had to admit he was quick to connect the dots.

Louis shrugged. "How should I know? They are crumbling ruins, and nobody lived there anymore when the lake came. Owners were compensated by the power company who built them new houses in the village. There are no bad feelings reported. Besides, the ghosts haunt the castle. To my knowledge, no one outside of the premises got shat on so far."

"We still should investigate the ancient houses, just in case." Theo's pale eyes were half-closed, his long lashes quivering. Did he sense something? Having just met him for the first time, I didn't doubt he was a genuine ghost sensitive. In contrast to Matt, whose mere appearance repelled me.

"The cottages are off-limits, I'm afraid." Lou didn't sound as if he were sorry. "The slope is unstable, and the police consider access to the shore too dangerous for visitors."

"Right, let's concentrate our effort on the castle first." It was time to get some administrative details worked out before we lost ourselves in wild speculation. "How do we proceed, and what's your business proposal?"

Louis gifted me with a thin smile and handed a slim folder to each of us. An aerial view of the castle and the coat of arms with the raven decorated the front page. I leafed through the collected material. Aside from a summary of Corbières' history, it contained reports of eyewitnesses, photographic documentation, several floor plans of the building, and, in the back, a loose form with a contract.

The document was short and clear. We would be hired to rid the hostel of the unwanted ghosts for a substantial sum to be split amongst us, payable after completion of the job. Accommodation in the castle and free meals were supplied during the investigation. The contract would become void if we didn't succeed in ten days.

When I looked up, Louis' gaze found mine. "What do you say?"

I broke eye contact to read the text again. With my share of the reward, I'd be out of trouble for several months. This was too good to be true. Ten days, all expenses included? My heart pounded against my ribs—too fast—while a cold, anxious lump formed in my stomach. The letters of the contract danced before my eyes. Despite the straightforward text, my racing heartbeat didn't calm, and I felt short of breath, afraid of committing to this endeavour regardless of the ample pay. "Why the three of us, and not just one?" Something smelled fishy.

"I'm new in the ghost hunting business, but I asked around and learned there are a lot of charlatans around. So, engaging three of you is the logical choice to heighten the chance of success." I had to admit Lou made a good point and I appreciated his honesty. Ghost hunters didn't come with a master's degree and a folder of professional recommendations.

"It's a generous offer, and company won't hurt. I'm in." Matthew's cheerful voice tore me out of my introspection. He pulled a ball pen from his shirt pocket, signed the sheet, and offered the pen to Theo. With a sinking feeling, I watched my potential ally add his name with a flourish.

The heavy weight of impending doom settled on my shoulders. Either I joined, too, or I stood up and walked away from this opportunity. All eyes were on me, including Mister Mortimer's. Although the shaking of my hands might have been the reason of the latter's concern rather than my indecision. I swallowed, ready to shoo the cat away and leave. But Celine's voice tore through my imagination and ordered me to woman up, take the blasted challenge, and stop being a despicable ninny.

Right, so much for following my esteemed inner voice of reason. Grandma Elise would turn in her grave if she knew.
Against my better judgment, I took Matt's offered pen, a deep breath, and scrawled my name onto the dotted line.

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