![]() When the Met calls, I answer, because they pay on the nose, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Well, Jesus, you know? It was Saturday night, and I already had a heap of my own shit to cope with. "I have to intone the mantra another dozen or so times." I don't know if all this tact and diplomacy is something he was born with or if he just learned it at cop school. "Have you finished arsing around, Castor?" he asked, fanning the smoke irritably away from his face. ![]() The warehouse was on the Edgware Road, on the ragged hinterlands of an old industrial estate: judging from the smashed windows outside and the rows and rows of empty shelves inside, it had been abandoned for a good few years-but Coldwood had invited me to join him and a few uniformed friends for a legally authorized search, so it was a fair bet that appearances were deceptive. Gary Coldwood gave me a downright hostile look through the tendrils of the smoke, which curled lazily up through the cavernous interior of the warehouse, the sweet smell dissipating along the aisles of sour dust. But in London, where I live, it's mostly encountered in the form of black, compacted lumps of soft, flaky resin. In Southern Africa it grows wild: you can walk through fields of it, waist-high, the five-fronded leaves caressing you like little hands. T HE INCENSE STICK BURNED WITH AN ORANGE FLAME AND smelled of Cannabis sativa. They go into the box labeled "people I feel privileged to have met." So do Charlotte Oria, Claire Friedman and her totally amazing family (Jeff, Jeremy, and Jacob), James Sime and Kirsten Baldock, Tad Williams, Richard Morgan, Chris Golden, Alan and Jude of Borderlands, Kristine and Jeannie and their colleagues at the Encino Barnes and Noble, and Doselle Young (whom I also have to thank for one of the most memorable games of pool I've ever lost). book tour (which included keeping me alive and sane). ![]() edition happen and for all of their heroic efforts during my recent ten-city U.S. I'm thanking them again now, but this time with a Damon Runyon–style New York accent.Īnd because the American edition has been through an entirely different alchemical process, I'd also like to thank Grand Central Publishing editor Jaime Levine and publicist extraordinaire Lisa Sciambra, both for making the U.S. In the UK edition of this book I thanked my editor, Darren, my agent, Meg, publicist George Walkley, desk editor Gabriella Nemeth, copy editor Nick Austin, and my wife, Lin, all of whom played crucial roles in its creation. Visit our Web site at First eBook Edition: July 2008 Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.Īll rights reserved. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. ![]() When satanists, stolen spirits, sacrifice farms, and haunted churches all appear on the same police report, the name Felix Castor can’t be too far behind. What he gets is a seemingly insignificant “missing ghost” case that inexorably drags him and his loved ones into the middle of a horrific plot to raise one of hell’s fiercest demons. His friend Rafi is still possessed, the succubus Ajulutsikael (Juliet to her friends) still technically has a contract on him, and he’s still dirt poor.ĭoing some consulting for the local cops helps pay the bills, but Castor needs a big private job to really fill the hole in his bank account. Author of The Girl With All the Gifts Mike Carey presents the second book in his hip supernatural thriller series featuring freelance exorcist Felix Castor.įelix Castor has reluctantly returned to exorcism after a successful case convinces him that he really can do some good with his abilities - “good,” of course, being a relative term when dealing with the undead.
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