What do you think?
Rate this book


72 pages, ebook
First published October 11, 2016
“I’d gotten into the detective business to escape the deepwater blues, from the songs that squirm in your veins like worms.”I’m not a big fan of describing things as Lovecraftian - I don’t care for the guy himself, I prefer tentacles in the form of calamari, and I can live without the overwritten language just fine. But like it or not, this story is very much Lovecraftian in tone and feeling — combined with the tobacco smoke-filled atmosphere of Mickey Spillane’s hard-boiled noir detective stories.
“Croydon’s a funny place these days. I remember when it was harder, when it was chiselers and punks, knife-toting teenagers and families too poor to make it anywhere else in grand old London, when this body was just acres of hurt and heroin, waiting to stop breathing. Now Croydon’s split down the middle, middle-class living digging its tentacles into the veins of the borough, spawning suits and skyscrapers and fast food joints every which way. In a few years, it’ll just be another haunt for the butter-and-egg men. No room for the damned.”
“The cold feels good, real good, a switchblade chill cutting deep into the cancer of a thousand years’ nap.”
“The house becomes indistinguishable from an intestinal tract, throbbing with polyps and wet tissue, with tendrils.”
“The street is getting dark, the pavement tiger-striped by halogen. It wears the fog like a dame’s best scarf, slightly jaunty, with an edge of challenge.”![]()
“The world’s too full of trouble to adopt those that don’t belong to you.”————
‘I’m not one for a fine touch. I’m a man. I barrel through life, guns blazing, asking questions rarely. For her, though, I’ll dig through my guts for the right approach.’