Gripping enough if insufficiently original to be a major standout.Īre we not men? We are-well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z (2006).Ī zombie apocalypse is one thing. Stir in a deep political undercurrent that eventually forces its way into the plot’s mainstream. Also in town is author Neil Gaiman (the very same), who chips in some useful information-but can he be trusted? How is ruthless newspaper tycoon Russell Vincent involved? What of the enigmatic occult powers known as John the Rat King and the Smiling Man? With its refreshingly flawed characters, the narrative interweaves its multiple strands mostly successfully, while the tone veers between jocular horror (less) and all-out macabre thrills (more). Ross becomes obsessed with locating a magical artifact that might help her free her father from hell. Ripper RIP?) The team focuses on gangster twins Barry and Terry Keel, whose various enterprises are known to cater to an occult clientele. Other gruesome killings swiftly follow, with only one clue-the perpetrator’s efforts to make them resemble those of the legendary Jack the Ripper. When Quill and company examine the car, they see-though nobody else does-splashes of a mercurylike silver substance that seems to be concentrated magic. Then a prominent member of Parliament gets carved to ribbons inside a sealed car by an apparently invisible assailant. This time, the city’s swarming with protestors and rioters enraged by austerity-inspired budget cuts even the Metropolitan Police are planning a strike (which would be illegal). In the opener, detectives Tony Costain and Kev Sefton, DI James Quill and police intelligence analyst Lisa Ross acquired supernatural powers when they touched a pile of dirt used by their quarry, evil witch Mora Losley-and in the process discovered the existence of an entire occult London behind and below the mundane city. The follow-up to London Falling (2013), an odd book that morphed from police procedural into urban-fantasy thriller.

The severed streets