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The name's Gideon Tau, but everyone just calls me London. I work for the Delphic Division, the occult investigative unit of the South African Police Service. My life revolves around two things - finding out who killed my daughter and imagining what I'm going to do to the bastard when I catch him.
I have two friends. The first is my boss, Armitage, a fifty-something DCI from Yorkshire who looks more like someone's mother than a cop. Don't let that fool you. The second is the dog, my magical spirit guide. He talks, he watches TV all day, and he's a mean drunk.
Life is pretty routine - I solve crimes, I search for my daughter's killer. Wash, rinse, repeat. Until the day I'm called out to the murder of a ramanga - a low-key vampire - basically, the tabloid journalist of the vampire world. It looks like an open and shut case. There's even CCTV footage of the killer.
Except... the face on the CCTV footage? It's the face of the man who killed my daughter. I'm about to face a tough choice. Catch her killer or save the world? I can't do both.
It's not looking good for the world.
Poison City is the first in a fantastical new series for fans of Ben Aaronovitch, Lauren Beukes, Sarah Lotz and Stephen King.
352 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 9, 2016

Sitting here is a morning routine. Waiting while I try to slip into character. While I remember what it’s like to be me.
Sometimes it takes me five minutes, sometimes twenty.
Everyone wears a mask. To fit in. To hide the real person inside. Because, let’s face it. If we didn’t have masks, if we all saw who we really were beneath the facade, beneath society’s norms, and lies we tell ourselves, the human race would be extinct. We’d be too scared to leave the house.
@10%
The first thing the dog does when I walk through the door is sniff the air and say, ‘You forgot the sherry, dipshit.’
He stares at me, the colour of his eyes shifting between jaundiced yellow and soul-of-a-serial-killer black. He knows I hate that. It’s his lazy-ass way of saying, ‘You open that mouth it better be to say: Sorry, dog. I’ll get right on it, dog.’
@1%
I pour the entire bottle of sherry into the dog’s huge bowl.
‘So how was your day?’ I ask.
‘Epic. I watched movies and licked my balls. You?’
‘A ramanga was murdered out in the boondocks. Been out there all day cooking in the heat.'
‘Lovely. Now we’re all caught up, let’s have some silence. I need to drink.’
@19%
I have two friends in my life. The first is my boss, [...]
The second is the dog, my magical spirit guide. He talks. He watches TV all day. He's an alcoholic. And he's a mean drunk.
I sigh. You know all those cute dogs in the movies you saw as a kid? Jock? Benji? Lassie? Well, the dog is nothing like that.
He’s the complete opposite of that. He’s the dog equivalent of a pervert in a dirty raincoat, sucking methylated spirits through a loaf of bread while watching porn and cackling to himself. He looks a bit like a border terrier, but don’t let that fool you. Cute and friendly he is not.
Here’s the thing. Shinecraft is everywhere. Always has been. Always will be. And there are a thousand different ways to use it. To name a few: binding. Demon summoning. Cursing. Golemancy. Necromancy. Magical sigils. Warding. Divination. Tasseography. Oneiromancy. Scrying. Illusion. Vivimancy. Runes. Heka. Mind reading. Alchemy. And there are more.
This. This is what we are. This is what we do to each other. Forget the orisha. Forget the monsters under the bed. We’re the fucking monsters under the bed. We’re the ones who do this. Mankind is the bogeyman. The word humanity doesn’t mean kindness, caring. If it represents us as a species then it means evil. Perversion.