Raven's Curse

7 - Ghost of the past

I watched my partner drive away before I turned and entered the castle. The black raven on the coat of arms above the main gate seemed to greet me like an old friend. I still remembered the day a few months ago when I passed beneath this archway for the first time—and suspected the stylised bird was mocking me. Now, the glint in his eye seemed more like genuine humour than scorn.

Marie and Frédéric, the French couple I had met at breakfast, sat in wicker chairs in the courtyard café and braved the cool afternoon air, studying their travel guidebook. I waved, and they greeted me back. These days, Corbières Castle served as a backpackers' hostel and was well-frequented thanks to its growing reputation as a haunted place.

I picked up lunch in the kitchen and retreated to the library, the corner room on the first floor that held a vast collection of books, from worn paperbacks to ancient leatherback tomes covering everything from local plant lore to science fiction. Several former owners of the castle had contributed to the collection and Lou loved it enough to keep it open to the public. But most visitors spent little time in the room. They came for outdoor activities or, for the last few months, to get to stay in a haunted place.

So, the library doubled as an informal headquarter for Ghost Guard Sárl, the company Matt and I had launched after the success when we ridded the Corbières Castle of a flock of ectoplasmic ravens. Our third partner, Theo, had turned out to be a ghost himself—and connected to the case. It took us a while to unite him with his lost wife and child. But when we did, the annoying birds had disappeared with them in the rising floods of the lake. This initial success and Lou's gratitude had given Matt and me the courage and the financial means to start our own business.

Since then, we had solved a few minor cases of paranormal activity in the region. I chuckled when I remembered the case of the black ghost dog howling in an empty parking lot at midnight. The animal turned out to be very much alive but shy, plagued by fleas, and in need of a caring home. The trickiest part was to find a caring owner for the poor bugger. Matt convinced the neighbour who had engaged us to solve the case to the Labrador. When we left, both the lady and the dog seemed happy with the new arrangement. She even sent us a selfie of her and her cleaned up pet to thank us.

In the company of Mister Mortimer, the black cat I suspected of being Corbières Castle's true master, I sifted through our business mail and answered a few requests, hoping for a serious job offer. But the only thing I found were advertisements and someone offering to do ouija seances for our company. I wrote a polite answer, aware most so-called mediums were fake. The real ones would know better than to offer their services to colleagues they didn't know.

When the daylight faded to dusk, Louis Connelly, the current owner of the castle and manager of the hostel, joined me. He pecked me on the cheek and grinned when he saw I still wore my new hiking boots. "Seems they didn't leave your feet all blistered after all. When did you come back?"

"Around two, I guess, and yes, I decided I like them. They are comfy." I wriggled my toes. They didn't feel cramped at all.

"Then we should put the boots to the test soon, if the weather permits. Do you think Matt is still happy to stand in for me at the hostel for a few days?"

"Sure, I think he looks forward to play master of the castle. And as our potential case turned out to be a major fail, we can schedule the outing whenever you like."

He reached out a hand to help me up. "Wonderful, well, not the fail, but the part about Matt and the hike. I'll start looking for accommodations. Like some dinner?"

My rumbling stomach agreed. The conversation only turned back to my visit in the town of Avenches when we drank coffee in Lou's living room. A fire in the wood stove chased the autumn chill from this sanctuary of medieval architecture, comfortable furniture and modern art. Lou leaned back in his favourite armchair. "You still didn't tell me about your encounter with the spectre haunting Aventicum."