Nightfall: The First Jack Nightingale Supernatural Thriller by Stephen Leather Page A

pushing the glass.
    ‘What was your father’s name again?’ whispered Anna.
    ‘Ainsley Gosling,’ said Nightingale, his eyes on the glass.
    ‘We want to speak with Ainsley Gosling,’ said Anna. She tilted her head back. ‘Is Ainsley Gosling there?’
    The glass jerked again, and moved inexorably towards ‘Yes’. It stopped halfway, but a few seconds later it began to move again until it nudged the piece of paper.
    ‘I don’t believe this,’ whispered Nightingale. ‘Someone’s pushing it.’
    ‘Jack!’ hissed Anna. ‘The spirits sense negativity.’ The glass moved back to the centre of the table. Nightingale knew he wasn’t applying any pressure to it and it didn’t feel as if either Anna or Hoyle were either. ‘Do you have a message for us?’ asked Anna, and even before she had finished the question the glass shot across to ‘Yes’, then slid back to the centre.
    ‘This is amazing,’ whispered Hoyle. ‘You’re not pissing around, are you, Jack?’
    Nightingale shook his head. His finger was aching but he didn’t want to take it off the glass, afraid that he would put a stop to whatever was happening. ‘Now what, Anna?’ he said.
    She was still staring at the ceiling. ‘What do you want to say to us?’ she said.
    The glass didn’t move. Nightingale willed it to do something, but it stayed defiantly where it was. ‘You’re among friends,’ said Anna, softly. ‘We only want to hear what you have to say.’
    The glass moved quickly and, in rapid succession, touched the letters J A C and K.
    ‘Jack!’ said Hoyle, excitedly. ‘It spelled out your name.’
    ‘We can all read, honey,’ said Anna. She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, Jack is here with us. Do you have a message for him?’
    The glass moved slowly towards ‘Yes’, touched the piece of paper and drifted back to the middle of the table. Then it began to move in small circles, slowly at first and then faster – so fast that Nightingale’s finger almost slipped off it. It raced to the letter I and stayed there for several seconds, slid back to the centre and, almost immediately went to the opposite side of the circle and nudged W. Slowly it spelled out I – W – A – N – T, and stopped.
    ‘“I want,”’ said Hoyle. ‘Did you see that?’
    ‘What do you want?’ asked Anna. ‘Please tell us what you want.’
    The glass began to move again. It slid over to Y, then O, and slowly spelled out ‘YOU TO’.
    It stopped. ‘What?’ said Hoyle, staring at it. ‘What is it you want Jack to do?’
    The glass began to move again in a series of jerks, and in rapid succession it picked out S-H-A-G-J-E-N-N.
    ‘Shag Jenn?’ said Nightingale, then realisation dawned. He cursed and pulled away his finger. Anna and her husband burst out laughing.
    ‘You two are a couple of kids,’ said Nightingale, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.
    ‘Your face,’ said Hoyle.
    ‘Come on, admit it, we had you going,’ said Anna.
    ‘It’s not funny,’ said Nightingale.
    ‘It is from where we’re sitting,’ said Hoyle. ‘I want you to shag Jenny . . .’ he said, in a spooky voice, waggling his fingers. ‘That’s what we want in the spirit world. We want Jack Nightingale to get laid.’ He stood, retrieved his wine and returned to the sofa. ‘You bought it, hook, line and sinker.’
    ‘Only because I trusted you,’ said Nightingale. ‘Which isn’t a mistake I’ll make again.’
    Anna gathered up the pieces of paper, screwed them into a ball and threw it at Nightingale. It bounced off his head and fell onto the floor. ‘I’m going home,’ he said.
    ‘Don’t sulk,’ said Anna.
    Nightingale laughed as he stood up. He held out his arms and hugged Anna. ‘Bitch,’ he said.
    ‘Sticks and stones,’ said Anna.
    Nightingale kissed her cheek and waved to Hoyle. ‘I’ll get you back, you know that.’
    ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ said Hoyle, raising his glass in salute.

15
    N ightingale woke up early