The rain had finally come, bearing down on the island in waves, crashing across its hillsides. The night had ushered away the brief sunshine, prompting the clouds to droop and sag, before unleashing their barrage. Elspeth clutched her umbrella, her knuckles white from her tight grip. The umbrella was struggling against the wind, proving almost useless against the deluge. Coin ill-spent in the local pound shop, the small folding apparatus being a poor match for actual weather.

Night. Elspeth hated it. It seemed like nearly all her time was spent trudging around in the darkness. Fumbling along looking for something that was normally doing its best to remain hidden. No, sunlight, that she liked. Summers spent lounging on the beach. Budget trips to Spain. That was more here speed. This night and its constant pestering rain were killing her mood. Whilst it was a typical Scottish June, something about the small island made everything closed in, even the weather. The heavy rain forming thick walls of water around her. Gregor was ahead of her, only visible by the light of his torch.

They were searching the hillside, headed to the other side of the island. Whilst small, the islands only road ran around the outside in a ring. Where they were headed lay off that, and with no vehicle available to them they had set out across what had been lush green grass, before the night had come bringing its rain. Now it was thick slippery mud that wormed its way up trouser legs and into socks, squelching between toes before taking up its final home within boots. They had considered getting the islands sole taxi driver to take them as close as possible, before discounting that. The island's population was so small, so tight night, that their suspect could be anyone.

The light that signified Gregor reached the crest of the hill. He turned, the torchlight hitting Elspeth's eyes, forcing her to close them momentarily. When she reopened them, she could see Gregor more clearly, the clouds had parted for a moment, silhouetting him against the moon. Gregor was waving to her, torch still clutched in hand. In the other, he held an umbrella. He had sprung for a more expensive model, the large kind used for golf. It was holding up considerably better than Elspeth's.

She stepped up the hill slowly, boots sinking into the mud. More than once she slid back, losing progress on her climb. Eventually, she reached the top, panting a little. Gregor manoeuvred his larger umbrella to cover them both. He had given his opinion at the time they had bought them that Elspeth was making a mistake. Now, he was wordlessly signalling his triumph.

"This is the place I guess," Gregor said, shining his torch down the other side of the hill. "You never really think of places like this. I mean, they must have existed sure, but way up here? I wonder why?"

"Remote ain't it. Someone escapes up here, what damage are they going to do? You Ken?"

"Fair point." Gregor nodded, his lips pursed. "Ok, so, down we go then?"

"Fuck me, let me get my breath first. Not everyone lives in the fucking gym like you."

"Aye fair play, you've put a shift in tonight I'll give you that." Gregor cracked a grim smile. "Five minutes then, and we'll head down," he said, his colleague responding with a roll of her eyes.

Below them was Raasay's dirty secret, a collection of abandoned buildings surrounded by collapsing rusted fencing, remnants of barbed wire hanging limply from them. Some seventy-five years before it had been filled with men, captured prisoners of war, shipped from the mainland to the remote Scottish island. The German soldiers had been well treated, but the rows of small wooden huts, walls collapsed, stone foundations exposed, were given a wide berth by the locals. They whispered amongst themselves, about fleeting sightings, strange lights and furtive whispers on the wind.

This is what the detectives were seeking. In their considerable experience, rumours often had a basis in truth, even if it was sometimes only tentatively. This was where one of the residents had captured what was known as an orb. Generally the result of backscatter, light reflecting into a camera's lens from water, insects or even specks of dust, for a while in the nineties they were popularly associated to ghosts thanks to a tacky television ghost hunting program. Not always though. Sometimes, just rarely, it was a fragment of spirit. A mote of life left lingering in the beyond. It was for this reason that Elspeth reached into her handbag, removing a large old-fashioned polaroid. She held it up, taking care to keep the antique camera beneath the protective canvas. She pressed the shutter button, the flash pulsing in the night.

The picture slid out of the bottom of the camera. Elspeth gripped it, shaking the paper square in her hand. Something about the action was soothing. It felt right, more real than a digital picture. Satisfied it had developed, she gestured for Gregor to shine his torch on it.

"Nothing on here," Elspeth said. The photograph looked normal, or as normal as could be expected for a dilapidated prisoner of war camp in the middle of the night.

"We should go down, get closer. We might not get anything from up here."

"I knew you would say that," Elspeth groaned shaking her head. "For once can we not just stroll into the spooky place? Why can't things just give us a friendly wave and meet us outside?"

Gregor chuckled. "It would be too easy then. Come on, you secretly love it. Remember that ruined castle? Or that cottage in the middle of the woods?"

"Yeah, they're pretty high up on my list of places to die in a horror movie. You know who always dies first in horror movies, don't you? I'll give you a clue, it isn't the white people."

"Ah yes, but it's always one of the women characters who are left at the end. That gives you fifty-fifty odds, right?"

Damp plant life collapsed underfoot with a crunch as they stalked between the ruined buildings. It was a miracle, in a way, that they were still standing. They clearly hadn't been expensive at the time of their construction. The place had an overwhelming sense of grim morbidity, a constant sense of imprisonment, even now. If there was something lurking on the island, this was certainly prime real estate for it.

"Ok, you take a few photographs. I'll whip this thing around." Gregor held up a length of string. One end was looped around his finger, the other was tied to a small blue stone. He left the line go slack. Slowly the stone began to rotate, completing a rotation before beginning another. "Looks like we've got something at least. Right, let's get to work then."

Elspeth looked at her cluster of photographs. There was something here, certainly. Flickers of light were caught on the images, circular glimmers of something lurking beyond the vale. It seemed to flit around the compound, not staying in one place. It wasn't uncommon, certain spirits were difficult to track down at the best of times. Elspeth sighed, and took another image, this time of one of the ruined buildings. It reminded Elspeth of the temporary buildings she had attended high school classes in, ones that had lasted long past their supposed expiry date. The flash of the camera whined as its light dulled, the paper sliding out of its slot with a clack. The glowing on the photograph was larger now, she was getting closer.

"Anything?" Gregor asked over her shoulder. Elspeth shook from fright, spinning around. As she did the camera struck Gregor in the eye with a whack. "Ow. Jesus. Fuck. Corners on that thing are fucking sharp."

"Well, that's what you get for sneaking up on me. Didn't think that fucking through did ye?"

"I wasn't aware you were a fucking horse. Don't go behind Liz. Fucking got it." Gregor rubbed his eye. "Find anything with that metal boxing glove of yours?"

"There is something here, orbs being picked up the camera. It's most responsive here around this building. The crystal?"

"Says the same. There is a ghost here. No doubt about that, but it's not a powerful one at all. Wouldn't put money on it being our culprit. Still, might be worth talking to it if we can."

"Doesn't feel like it wants to be talked too." Elspeth sighed, releasing a long mournful breath. "But, I suppose, if you think it will help."

Elspeth stood in the half-collapsed building, her feet planted firmly on the floor. It would be important for what was to come next. A tangible, real solid connection. Her mother had always called it a gift, a unique skill passed down from mother to daughter. Elspeth hated it. It was useful now of course, as a part of her Special Investigations role, but when she was younger it had brought only nightmares.

She took one last look around herself, taking as much as she could about her surroundings. It would be useful. To find her way back. Elspeth took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. She exhaled, re-opening them to a different place.

She was still in the ruined camp. She knew that. She was there, but also not quite there. The air seemed thick here, like she was moving deep underwater. There was an odd hue to everything, sickly pale green light illuminating the walls of the buildings. They were whole now, no longer ruins, but the walls seemed to shimmer, fading in an out. Half forgotten memories. Elspeth stepped forward, feeling the constant resistance of the place. It longed to get her out, to send her back to where she came from. She pressed on, determined.

Elspeth's mother had made a decent living as a medium. She held sold-out shows in pubs, working men's clubs and even the occasional town hall all across Scotland. Her mother had started from a pure-hearted place, looking to use her talent to soothe a person's grief. All too often though, people didn't want to hear what she had to say, and she soon all the tricks and cons used by nearly every other medium. Her mother, like Elspeth, possessed the ability to project their souls onto the astral plane. To walk amongst the spirits and ghosts, if only for short bursts. One of the few true mediums in the country. Her mother had become a master of the cold read, able to draw information from a crowd and mould it into something they wanted to hear. Because the harsh reality was too much for them.

It was inevitable really, that Elspeth would find herself drawn into the orbit of special investigations. She had joined the force at a young age, making detective in record time for her division. She had sensed a ghost whilst on a mundane case-Elspeth couldn't remember what it was even about now- and just couldn't help herself. It was crying out in agony, its pain seeing through into the living world. It was there she had crossed paths with Gregor, who was working the ghost case. Like all the department's detectives, she had found herself transferred into Special Investigations with very little say so on her part.

Gregor at least had agreed to keep her ability a secret. Elspeth had no desire in becoming the departments resident medium, begrudgingly using her ability when only absolutely necessary.

Elspeth stepped out from the shimmering building into the courtyard by simply walking through the wall. She could see Gregor standing in the doorway, no doubt guarding her frozen body. Across the courtyard, she could make out another figure. It was a man, his image slightly hazy. He was wearing what appeared to be a simple shirt and plain trousers.

"Hello?" Elspeth cried out at him, her words echoing into eternity. The man turned to look at her, bemusement written over his face. He spluttered something in German. "Ah," said Elspeth. "This might be a problem."