At its heart, Slayer is about the denial of one’s inner nature, and the devastating effects that denial can have in a person’s life. The main character, Alek Knight, is a person who has denied his inner nature for close to four decades. He is described as an artist, yet as the story opens, he has denied himself even this passion, and instead spends his days and nights subsisting on alcohol and aspirin.
He works as a museum curator, but he also has a secret life as a dhampir, a genetic cousin to the vampire. The dhampir are gathered together in covens much like vampires, but they’ve made a deal with the church to act as police to the vampire population. And they don’t bother making arrests.
And apparently, the dhampir are the stronger of the two species, because vampires are treated with little to no respect in fight scenes. Buffy the vampire slayer had longer fights with bit characters than any of the slayers in this book do. Even fledgling members of the coven seem to be able to kill ancient vampires with relative ease.
During the course of the main story, Alek is informed he is the heir apparent to the role of covenmaster, and his doubts about his abilities cause him to drift away from the coven. This allows for a very powerful vampire to manipulate Alek. Her presence causes him to recall the story of his twin sister, Debra. And here, the story runs into problems.
The book is creepy, both in pace and tone. Three interludes meant to explain the back story instead slow the narration down and spend a lot of extra time exploring Alek’s disturbing relationship with his sister. Mostly the intimate scenes become disturbing because Alek is rarely performing the acts voluntarily. The initial scenes have merit to explain why Alek is so deeply repressed within himself, but the interludes dwell on the topic. These incestuous flashbacks are frequently buffered with Alek being fondled and/or bloodily kissed by his covenmaster Amadeus, both in the past, and the present.
But ultimately, these scenes also help explain why Alek is so ineffectual at protecting any of the women in his life. Feeling alone and isolated in the world, Alek is so desperate for purpose that he is a willing tool in anyone’s hands. He frequently gets angry and seemingly finds purpose, only to lose it again a few sentences later in the face of any adversary. Even when the book moves to its climax, Alek remains ineffectual at keeping anyone safe. It is only after a vampire sacrifices themselves for Alek that he finds a will of his own. Until then, he is not so much driving the story as constantly reacting to the people who push and pull him around. He is a puppet, and only in the final act is he able to cut the strings.
The book is well written, though the prose tends to be purple, blue, and uncomfortably red simultaneously. Dialogue is sometimes heavy and feels circular, and the book has an odd format with POV breaks sometimes occurring at the top of the next page, which sometimes ends up being confusing. And finally, someone needs to file a missing periods report with the editor, because there were a lot of them gone from where they should have been. Aside from that one punctuation problem, the grammar is good. The text flows easily enough, though it often relies upon the same crutch phrases. Noise is almost always white, while blood tastes of metal and red frequently. And everyone glitters with diamonds of sweat at least twice.
Slayer is an interesting, though not always enjoyable reading experience which should appeal to most hardcore vampire fans, provided they don’t take offense at how the vampires are portrayed as neutered prisoners in a collection of prisons disguised ingeniously as nightclubs.