Nightmare (Nightingale)

By Stephen Leather

The final case of police negotiator Jack Nightingale’s profession resulted in the loss of life of nine-year-old Sophie Underwood. given that then he’s stored his personal soul from the devil…but now he’s haunted by way of Sophie’s cries for aid. And while a gangbanger mendacity in a health facility mattress with out mind job time and again drops Jack’s identify, Nightingale realizes Sophie might desperately want him. yet why?

Police superintendent Ronald Chalmers is decided to pin the gangbanger’s almost-murder on Jack, yet he's preoccupied with Sophie and even if she’s in everlasting torment—or if demons are torturing and deceiving him that allows you to achieve the final prize. With time operating out, he’ll need to face down Chalmers and the police, south London gangs, and Hell itself on the way to find the solution…

A riveting climax to The Nightingale Trilogy, Nightmare is a freight educate of motion, depth, and suspense that grants the strength of everlasting damnation and the facility of the human soul.

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I am getting it,’ stated Nightingale. ‘And if you’re contemplating it you should be very cautious. a chum of mine attempted it a few years in the past and he or she ended up in a psychological medical institution. She’s a shell; her brain used to be absolutely destroyed. ’ ‘Were you there whilst it occurred? ’ Miller shook his head. ‘When you do a care for one of many Fallen it should be one-on-one. That’s why it’s so harmful. Any signal of weak spot, otherwise you drop your safeguard for a moment, and they’ll rip out your soul. I can’t tension that sufficient: you don’t fiddle with them. an individual like Joshua, ok, might be, however the likes of me? ’ He shuddered. ‘I wouldn’t even give it some thought. ’ ‘I listen you,’ stated Nightingale. Down lower than, the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be the remainder of the group,’ stated Miller. ‘By the best way, did you carry whatever belonging to the deceased? ’ ‘I couldn’t get anything,’ stated Nightingale. ‘I did try out. ’ ‘It’s no longer essential,’ stated Miller. He went back off the ladder. Nightingale walked round the pink textile in the direction of the a long way finish of the attic. there have been previous steamer trunks there, wood with leather-based straps round them. They weren’t locked however the straps have been held in position with brass buckles. Nightingale’s interest acquired the higher of him and he knelt down and undid the straps of the trunk closest to him. The lid groaned as he pulled it open. It was once packed with chalices, bottles, and gadgets wrapped in cloths of varied colors. there has been a robust odor of incense and whatever sour and acrid that made his eyes begin to water. He picked up one of many cloth-wrapped bundles. It used to be a brass knife lined with runes, the deal with within the form of a goat’s foot, the blade serrated and with a pointy aspect. Nightingale re-wrapped the knife and positioned it again within the chest. at the left-hand part of the trunk have been bundles of candles, in most cases black. He heard voices downstairs so he hurriedly closed the lid and fixed the buckles. He used to be status via the small altar while Miller’s head popped during the hatch. He had turned into an extended black hooded gown. He used to be keeping a Marks & Spencer service bag and he took out a gown and passed it to Nightingale. ‘We all put on these,’ he stated. Nightingale took off his raincoat and draped it over one of many trunks. As he used to be placing at the gown a moment guy seemed; he used to be in his sixties with a goatee beard and a black masks over his eyes and nostril. ‘This is Martin,’ acknowledged Miller. Martin shook arms with Nightingale. ‘Martin is my moment in command. ’ ‘His wing man,’ acknowledged Martin. He used to be donning a wide sovereign ring on his left hand and a cumbersome gold chain on his correct wrist. Even the saggy hooded gown couldn’t hide his increasing waistline; he used to be basically a guy who loved his food and drinks. ‘Hood up or down? ’ requested Nightingale. ‘Up once we begin,’ stated Miller. ‘Colour is a distraction so issues need to be as darkish as attainable. ’ A blonde head seemed within the hatch. A woman’s. Miller and Martin helped her up. She was once in her forties and had darkish eyebrows and a reduce of purple lipstick over lips that regarded as though they’d been pumped jam-packed with fats from somewhere else in her physique.

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