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The name was written on the door, olive green italics on a pale yellow background. Sounds revolting but in the flesh it created a charming, cozy ambience that extended to the room itself.

Flinging my jacket on the floral quilt, I headed toward a pair of floor-length drapes. Wrenching them aside, I stared down at the lawn that led to the shore of the loch. The moon appeared from behind a bank of clouds, bleeding drops of light onto the black water.

“Beautiful,” breathed Douglas.

“In an eerie kind of way.”

In the centre of the loch a patch of water had begun to seethe and bubble.

“What’s that?” I asked Douglas.

He came to stand beside me. “Where?”

But the patch of choppy water had suddenly calmed.

“Never mind,” I said, turning away from the window. I tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

“I should leave you to sleep.” Douglas headed for the door. “Bess cooks breakfast between seven and eight.”

I smiled. “I’ll set my alarm.”

When he left I locked the door behind him. It was probably unnecessary in a village this size, and it certainly wouldn’t keep out the paranormal, but I thought it would make me sleep a little sounder.

I changed into a long flannelette nightie that would have made my grandmother proud and threw back the bedclothes. I was preparing to jump into bed when I realized the drapes were still open. Once again I moved to the window and stared out at the loch. The moon had disappeared, leaving the water in darkness. In the sky a small cluster of stars had escaped the clouds. I stared up at them and thought of Casper.

I had met him at the age of six, so it was no exaggeration to describe him as my oldest friend. Leaning my forehead on the cold windowpane, I wondered where Casper was now. He hadn’t been in touch with me in a while and—okay, I’ll admit it—I missed him. Just so you don’t get the wrong idea about Casper I should remind you that, despite his name, he isn’t a ghost.

Oh, what am I doing thinking about Casper? He’s not here and I promised myself I wouldn’t think about him while he was away.

Angry that I had broken my promise to myself, I let the drapes fall and strode across the room to the double bed. Maybe I would feel less lonely in the morning.

I jumped into bed. After pulling the covers up to my chin, I flicked off the lamp.

I slept soundly. But I dreamed of Casper.

Chapter Three

Warmed by my dream of Casper, I faced the morning with a smile. From my bedroom window the calm water of the loch glistened in the sunshine. I almost believed that all traces of the paranormal had disappeared overnight.

After dressing in jeans and a sweater, I went downstairs to breakfast.

Bess had prepared oat porridge followed by kippers and scrambled eggs. I couldn’t face kippers that early in the morning, but the eggs tasted as though they had come straight from the farm. If the breakfast had been accompanied by fresh coffee it would have been perfect.

After finishing the food I took my second cup of instant coffee onto the terrace at the back of the pub. Douglas was there. He stood like a sentinel, staring contemplatively over the loch.

“Sleep well?” I asked, making conversation rather than seeking information.

He shook his head. “Not after hearing the banshee.”

Mentally I kicked myself for asking a stupid question.

“I don’t want to see this beautiful place destroyed by dark forces,” he continued. “Och, I sound like a character in Star Wars.”

Gently I touched his arm. “I know what you mean. I promise I won’t let the darkness win.”

He gave me a searching glance. “I know you’re good at what you do. Your reputation speaks for itself. But how do you fight something so elusive? Mrs. Ferguson’s dreams, the wailing of the banshee, you cannae shoot them or stab them. You cannae even destroy them with a light saber.” He gave a hollow laugh. “So how do you…?”

“Leave that to me. I mean, I’m the one who discovered why the member of that European royal family talked to trees—and it’s not the reason you might imagine.