I slumped down on my bed and buried my head in the cushion, blaming myself double for Lou's misfortune. After all, it had been my clever-not-so-clever idea to send Guillaume after the ravens.

Sir Guillaume's ghost frowned. "Do you feel unwell, my lady? You're almost as pale as your friend."

"Theo? Hardly, he's the prototype of a vampire if I ever met one, including the sex appeal. But I've seen him drinking beer and coffee, he's as human as you and I—" I sat up and leaned against the wall. "Well, as I. No, I feel guilty for the attack earlier. If I hadn't asked you to talk to the ravens, you wouldn't have taught them to fly through walls."

The way he rubbed his beard reminded me of Lou. "Um. I gather you don't think this was a great idea, but they seemed happy zapping back and forth through the guard's house."

"If only they would stick with the guard's house. Is this their normal hideout?"

"I wouldn't know, they appeared only a few weeks ago. They might have risen from the lake."

Interesting—and consistent with the information we got from Lou. By now, I was convinced the cottage by the lake contained the key to the riddle. "I wish we knew what they want. Their attacks seem random. Why bothering a group of innocent tourists?"

"Ah, there you make a common human mistake. How can you know the tourists are innocent?" The ghost had a point. "In my experience, humans carry more dark secrets than you'd want to believe. Take my unlucky descendant, Hughes de Grandmont, for example."

"Should I have heard of him?" I wondered if the idea to interview Sir Guillaume was as brilliant as it appeared at first.

He interrupted his pacing, and the gaze of his glowing eyes threatened to drill holes into my chest. "The British ladies insisted you were interested in local history."

Thanks, Alice and Catherine. "I am catching up, but Hughes never crossed my path yet—another local ectoplasmic celebrity?"

"No, he's long gone. He was the last of my countless offspring to hold the castle, in the fourteenth century. Unfortunately, he enjoyed a lavish lifestyle. Had to raise a mortgage on the estate to finance the continuous festivities." Guillaume pulled out the chair, slumped down, and crossed his legs, showcasing his translucent, pointed leather boots.

"Now, the man who lent him the money was his best friend, Pierre Gervais. They were great pals, and Pierre convinced Hughes to declare him as his sole heir. Behaving like the stupid, arrogant aristocrat he was, Hughes did. Only to find himself and his manservant poisoned after dinner with Pierre, headed for an ugly death. Hughes' younger brother Geoffrey went to court over it, but while the judge convicted Pierre of murder, the testament was declared valid, and the count of Savoy confiscated the castle and the remainders of the family's wealth."

"Wow. And poor brother Geoffrey got nothing?"

"No, although he led an interesting life of his own. But the estate was lost to the Corbières family. Made me want to strangle Hughes, but unfortunately, ghosts are hard to kill."

While I found the image of a raging Sir Guillaume attacking the spectre of his unruly descendant hilarious, I felt sorry for the oldster at the same time. "I take it Hughes haunted the castle as well. Why is he gone?"

"He dissolved with a radiant smile the night he got his revenge on Pierre. Haven't seen him since. And don't ask me again why I'm still sticking around, I don't know and don't care as long as there is good company—and the redhead provides a whirlpool and lavender soap."

"I won't, as long as you forgo teaching new tricks to the ravens. If Louis has to close the hostel, your wellness area will be history. You may well end up haunting an abandoned ruin, no television, no visitors to spook, no entertainment."

Guillaume frowned while he sank slowly into the chair, oblivious to the fact. When his head almost disappeared in the chair back, he jerked up and took up the pacing. "You say he relies on the tourists to maintain the premises? This castle has been sold and passed on too many times. Can't you people show respect for my hard-earned property?"

"Bit tough when you have to invest in new plumbing or fix a century-old roof. We don't live in the Middle Ages, and Lou can't collect a tithe from the villagers." Why did I feel obliged to defend the current owner? So far, I hadn't been paid a cent. But if I wanted to get there, I might depend on Sir Guillaume's cooperation. "Will you help me convince the birds to spare the tourists?"

He twirled his enormous moustache. "Perhaps it's time to put an end to the accumulated misfortune in this place." With a determined nod, Guillaume walked into the wall but stuck his head back into the room a second later. "We've had poisoning, stabbing, adultery, and a witch trial. Not to mention what happened in the last century. I'll consider your request, but not tonight, I have a rendezvous with two charming British ladies. See you tomorrow, my dear."

I sighed and slumped against the wall when his face appeared a second time. "Also, I've seen the languishing gazes you send your pale buddy. Don't fall for him, he's out of your league."

Before I could investigate his cryptic advice, he winked and retreated into the wall. Was I falling for Theo? And why would this bother Guillaume?

<> <> <>

The next morning, I overslept—again. Armed with a mug of black coffee and a croissant, I found Theo, Matt and Mister Mortimer in the library. Heads bowed over a collection of electronic components and a floor plan of the castle, Matt's face was flushed in agitation, Theo's as pale as ever.

"Morning, and sorry for the delay. Seems a visit of Guillaume de Corbières replaces a dose of sleeping pills for me." Matt's wink and Theo's smirk pushed me to defend myself. "It's not what you think. He told me about an incident in the castle's history. About a guy who poisoned the resident lord after he'd made him disinherit his brother and put himself in place as the sole heir."

"Is this the reason Guillaume hangs around?" Theo's interest seemed sparked.

"I don't think so. But he is adamant weird incidents affected his descendants and this place throughout history—until recently."

Matt frowned. "What about a connection between the submerged cottage and the ravens?"

"Guillaume confirms they appeared when the lake level dropped. He also hinted at an event in the twentieth century. Coincidence?"

The screech of the opening door deprived me of an answer. Lou joined our group and stooped to scratch Mister Mortimer between the ears. "Here you are, old friend. How's the ghost hunt?"

Theo pointed to the electronic components scattered on the table. "Matt suggests rigging ghost sensors throughout the castle to track the movements of the ravens. Once we locate their hiding place, it will be easier to get a hold on them."

"Sounds like a plan. I just hope we get this sorted before another disaster hits." He brushed his fingers through his tangled curls. "I called the hospital today. Roberto will recover. He was unconscious when they picked him up, and the doctor said he was lucky to get off with several bruised ribs and a broken ankle."

"Did you talk to him?" Matt and I asked almost in synch.

"Yes, I had to arrange for delivery of his luggage. The doc warned me beforehand that he was delusional, and I'm tempted to agree. Seems Roberto wanted to investigate the cottage. All went well until he was attacked by what he calls invisible demon birds in plain daylight. He insists they tried to peck out his eyes. His report sounded like that Hitchcock movie—the poor fellow has lost it."

I wasn't so sure, but there was no reason to stress Lou more than he already was. When he left, I watched the boys work, petting Mister Mortimer. Matt, in his element, never tired of explaining his gadgets to a fascinated Theo.

Bored, I picked up the cat and went to search for Lou. With his blessing and a set of master keys, I spent the day exploring the castle. The place was vast, and half of the rooms weren't accessible to guests. From Guillaume's whirlpool and a fancy sauna, I ventured to the walk along the battlements and the airy attic of the former servant quarters, envisioning potential expansions of the hostel. Only of the ravens, I didn't find a single trace.

Mid-afternoon, when my tour was almost done, I got a call from Steph. She was available earlier than planned but asked us to join her at the clubhouse. "I don't dare to pick you up on your side. The cops declared the whole area off-limits after a serious accident."

No kidding. I fetched the boys from the library, where they still fussed over Matt's screen. "Change of program, guys. Stephanie is ready with the boat if we can drive to Avry. I told her I'll be there in twenty minutes. Anyone want to come?"

Two minutes later, we were on our way, crammed into Matt's black pickup truck. Squeezed in the middle seat between a sweating Matt and a distracted Theo, I wished I'd ridden my bike. While we crossed the bridge south of Corbières and followed the road north along the shore, I studied the dark clouds piling over the Prealps, matching my mood. The building thunderstorm promised relief from the scorching heatwave, but an icy fist clamped around my guts convinced me it foreshadowed far more dramatic events than simple rain.

1647 words