The sequel to Pretty Little Dead Things, which I read a while ago. I found that novel to be beautifully written, but unrelentingly grim. I found the worldview captivating, but the main character (Thomas Usher) too self-piteous to sympathise with. Without creating spoilers, I also questioned the worth of the grim ending, in which Usher literally loses everything, leaving the reader almost as hollow as the character. Dead Bad Things suddenly gives sense to all that. Where the first book has flaws as a standalone, it all irons out when these two books are viewed as a duology. For much of the book, Usher is a shattered man, still traumatised by previous events, hiding out far to the South of his native Leeds. He's less a character than he is a shell, but his journey is almost a subplot to that of a policewoman called Sarah. Having recently lost her abusive father, she begins to discover that his depravity ran to more twisted, horrific outlets than she could ever have imagined. McMahon doesn't hold back from demonstrating the sick, vicious horrors his characters live amongst, and the book is filled with images you'll want to forget. These aren't there to titillate or thrill, and his descriptions are unflinching. They horrify, in a fundamental way, and are neither for the casual horror reader, or the faint of heart. That said, their very value is in their honesty. Dead things are not the monsters in these books. People are. If all this sounds like a continuation of the first book, you'd be right. What elevates both from their one-note bleakness is the final act, in which Sarah and Usher are brought together. It's really the conclusion of both books, and introduces both redemption and hope as bright colours in a grey landscape. Finally, there is a flicker of light in the gloom, all the more powerful for the long despair.