Steph waited for us at the club. Tanned, her blond, sun-streaked hair gathered in a ponytail and clad in washed-out shorts and a bright red tank top, she was the prototype of a sailing instructor. A smile brightened her face. "San, so good to see you, it's been ages. How's work at the library, busy again?"
"Painful topic, they sacked me last year, another victim of reorganisation. But it's good to see you, too. These are Matt and Theo, my current partners in crime."
She grinned. "Partners, eh? Must be an interesting job if it involves the mouldy ruins on the lake bottom. Let's fit you out and be on our way before the thunderstorm arrives."
Matt studied the distant, threatening clouds with a frown. "That's just a build-up, I guess. The prediction says it will take a few more days until we're blessed with rain here in the lowlands."
"Possible. To be honest, it will be a relief. Still, I don't want to risk being on the lake when lightning strikes. Here." She handed us a sleek red lifejacket each. "They are automatic and inflate when you fall into the water, so no need to pull a toggle or anything. But the best choice is always to stay on the boat, right?"
Steph helped us adjust the harnesses, and we followed her down the flat slope and across a broad stretch of gravelly wasteland to the shore. The wooden jetty, now useless, sat on its floaters halfway up in the dirt, but down at the current shoreline, a red semirigid inflatable was pulled up. Together, we pushed the boat into the water and climbed aboard.
Driven by a powerful outboard, we zipped toward the eastern shore across the lake's mirror-like surface. Conversation was impossible with the noise of the motor, but I didn't mind. This trip gave me a new perspective on the landscape. Straight ahead on its perch high above the lake, Corbières' castle gleamed white in the afternoon sunlight, an impressive reminder of its history as a seat of power. The dark cumulus clouds billowing behind it added to the surreal feeling.
The trip across the shrunken lake took less than ten minutes. We were almost beneath the castle when I made out the ruins at the foot of the slope, blending in with the gravel and mud. Steph decelerated the boat and brought us closer to the shore. "Now, please guide me to the place you want to investigate."
Theo pointed at the single, well-preserved cottage. "It's this one, with the roof and the crooked chimney, right beneath the recent landslide."
The dark earth marked the place where Roberto had his accident, but I couldn't make sense of Theo's comment about the chimney at first. But when Steph steered us closer, I discovered the rough masonry, towering at an unusual angle over a shingled roof. Wooden shingles had been the traditional roofing material of the region before tiles became affordable for everyone. The walls were whitewashed stone, now turned grey and unattractive, with a row of square windows. Bare flowerpots on the windowsills contributed to the deserted feeling the building emitted.
My architectural musings were interrupted by the repeated clicks of a camera shutter. Matt sat astride the inflated side of the boat, one foot trailing in the water, in full paparazzi mode. "The roof is in extraordinary shape. How is it possible the wood survived being submerged over seven decades? All the other roofs caved in."
"Paranormal energy is intense here, I'm sure that explains a lot." I rubbed my tingling wrist. "Can we get closer, Steph? I'd like to try for the shore."
"Sure. We just have to take care we don't run aground. If the propeller hits a rock, we'll have to paddle home." A few seconds later, something scratched against the rigid bottom of the boat. Steph cut the engine. "Sorry, that's it, terminal destination. If you want to go further, you'll have to swim."
Leaning over the bow, I made out the remains of a crumbling wall under the surface. My friend was right. With the submerged masonry here, it was too dangerous to continue. I checked the distance. Fifty or sixty metres of rippling water separated us from the garden wall surrounding the house. "What do you think, fancy a refreshing swim, Matt? Theo?" The idea seemed attractive on this sultry afternoon.
When I didn't get an answer, I turned around. Matt was absorbed by his camera, one eye closed and the other pressed against the ocular, cheeks flushed. In contrast, Theo's unmoving face seemed almost white, and the dark pupils were wide in his pale blue eyes. "Earth to Theo, are you alright?" A shiver shook his hunched shoulders.
"Gee, there's someone in there." Matt lowered his camera and squinted at the cottage. "I swear, I saw a face in the leftmost window."
As much as I stared at the house, I couldn't make out a movement or a face. "Are you sure?"
Theo interrupted us, his voice hoarse. "The ravens, they are here." A screeching caw tore through the sticky air as if to prove him right. With fluttering eyelids, he stood and spread out both arms. "It's more... the ghosts... they call me and..." His faltering words drowned in a crescendo of cawing overhead.
"Guys, I don't like this at all." Caught in the moment's weirdness, I had all but forgotten about Steph. The urgency in her voice and her strained features told me she didn't share my fascination with the current paranormal manifestations. "San, the high static charge of the air becomes dangerous. We need to leave. How long will your friend's ritual take?"
Ritual? A glance at Theo's rigid posture, head thrown back and eyes half-closed, explained her odd conclusion. A sudden gust of wind tore at his dark hair, giving him the look of an ancient prophet—or a crazy weirdo. "Theo? Can you see the ravens, or other ghosts?" No reaction.
Matt and I exchanged a glance and moved in his direction, our fast movements lurching the boat. I steadied myself with the help of the rope, and Matt slumped back down, hugging his camera. "Where does the sudden wind come from?"
I pointed at the threatening clouds and pulled Theo down at his sleeve while Steph started the engine, glancing over the water, deep worry lines marring her forehead. "Sorry guys, we have to abandon this mission. Can't stay out here in these conditions without risking a lightning hit." She was almost as pale as Theo when she turned the boat around in a wide arc and steered back north. "Better stow your camera, Matt, in a few moments, things will get wet here."
He followed her order, and it soon became clear what she meant when the first waves arrived, driven by the increasing headwind. From a gentle ripple, they grew into a short, choppy, white-capped swell within minutes, and Steph had to slow down. Even with reduced speed, the boat's bow hit hard into the oncoming crests, flinging us around and sending jolts through our mistreated bodies. Spray gushed over the front and sides and soaked us to the skin. I held onto the rope with white knuckles, all the former joy of our excursion forgotten. The pleasant ten-minute trip on the way in turned into an endless lesson in endurance on the way back. The lake who had been so peaceful and placating before showed us its wavy teeth, the sharp gusts making me shiver in my wet clothes.
We reached the landing beneath the sailing club after an eternity, jumped into the knee-deep water and helped Steph to move the boat as high up the shore as possible. To secure it, she pulled a long rope up to the dysfunctional jetty and tied it off with a deft knot. Glad to be ashore, I slung my arms around me to warm myself up. "Is your camera okay, Matt?"
"I hope. I won't try though, I'll have to dry it first. At the worst, we should be able to extract the pictures of the ghost from the memory card." He pointed at Theo, who stood a few steps away, staring across the lake at the castle—or at the mysterious cottage beneath it. "Do you know what bugs him?"
"No idea. In Guillaume's words, he's way out of my league. I heard the ravens, and felt the heightened paranormal activity over there, but aside from that, I believe the storm is a normal atmospheric phenomenon."
Steph looked up from her job fixing the boat's tarp. "I've sailed this lake for years. We seldom get anything above force four, and never this fast. Your dark friend spooks me."
Theo turned his head, his usual relaxed smile curling his lips. "I'm sorry, Stephanie, I got caught up in the moment. I assure you, wind and weather are not mine to command."
She nodded, but kept a prudent distance to Theo on our way back to the club and seemed happy to see us go. However, I promised to drop by another day to catch up on old times.
Back in the van, Theo slumped against the window, closed his eyes, and was asleep within the minute. I sighed. "Hope she still speaks to me, after this disaster."
"She will. Our brooding friend has a way to get under one's skin, but Steph seems to be a tough girl. What worries me is that destiny seems adamant to keep us from that cottage."
I had nothing to add, and we spent the rest of the drive in comfortable silence. Back at the castle, Theo rubbed the sleep from his eyes and wandered off without a word. Matt shook his head. "Something's still off. Do you want to speak with him while I try to download the pictures? He nurses a soft spot for you."
"Huh. First Guillaume, now Theo. But aye, I'll give my best. See you at dinner."
I found him on the terrace, staring out over the lake. From up here, with the dramatic clouds in our back, the sunlit white teeth of the waves looked pretty and far less intimidating.
"What's wrong, Theo?" I reached for his hand. He pulled it away, but not fast enough. The superficial touch sent an icy wave of dread surging through my fingers and up my arm, threatening to freeze my heart. I stumbled backwards, flailing my arms and searching for support. There was none, and I ended on my bum on the still-warm, solid pavement. My hand clamped around Grandma Elise's pendant, and the touch brought relief to my shivering body. I gulped down a breath of sultry air and stared at my pale partner, stating the obvious. "Theo, you're dead."
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