Excerpt from the Sceptic

I follow as the knocks continue. Once there, he throws the door open and switches the light on. He stands slightly in front of me in a protective stance.

      I repress a smile and move around him. “Empty,” I say, filming the room. “No one is here. The room is as empty as my fans’ waiting room. I—”

      I stop talking when a knock sounds right next to my head. “Fucking hell,” I snap, panning the camera around to find… nothing. My heart is beating fast.

      “What the fuck is going on?” I say loudly.

      Will is listening intently. “Do you have something to say?” he asks. “Knock once for yes, and twice for no.”

      One knock.

      We stare at each other, our eyes wide. Then I kick his ankle gently to keep going.

      “Ouch,” he says immediately. “You kicked me. What was that for?”

      “I want you to keep talking.”

      “About what? My sudden urgent need to get a cast on my broken leg?”

      I snort.

      “What am I supposed to say?” he asks, directing a panicked look at me.

      I roll my eyes. “I don’t know. Just say something. Pretend it’s a club, and you’re chatting someone up.”

      “I hardly think ‘Do you fancy a shag?’ will go down well with the undead.”

The Sceptic

The Sceptic

As the best friend of a psychic, Will Buchanan can’t help but believe in the dead. It’s the living that he finds to be problematic.