Justin Alcala’s action-packed folkoric romp into an alternative and much seedier Victorian London is a worthy contribution to dark vampire tales. Nathaniel Braddick is a lost man, despite rising to the rank of Detective Sergeant in a grim and corrupt London constabulary. His beloved wife, Catherine, has recently died a lingering death from consumption, and he is drowning his heartbreak in opium to shut out the worldly sorrows all around him: epidemics of cholera and consumption that have the locals in a panic, his mounting debts and his daily grind at work dealing with a gallimaufry of lazy, mendacious, and downright nasty colleagues and superiors. As well as hiding his growing opium addiction from work, Nathan is hiding other secrets: his little understood psychic powers, an ‘echo’ that enables him to see a murder victim’s last moments if he can touch the victim’s body, or part of it, and ‘witches’ mark’ on his wrist – a birthmark of an overturned cross.
Nathan’s benighted life is disrupted by strange one-armed intruder into his rooms, who delivers a message of evil tidings, before flapping away like a crow, then the next day at work, by being given the case of a young Irish woman who died, possibly of consumption, or possibly a reason connected to the sinister foreigner who visited her rooms shortly before she was found dead. Nathan is soon combing the meanest streets of Victorian London with his fat and lascivious partner Detective Seargeant James Davis. As he gets deeper into the mire, Nathan starts to uncover a web of low-life dwellings and former crims, a devout but deadly brother and sister pair of Romanian vampire hunters, and the machinations of evil spirits getting cleverer at every corner.
Alcala’s romp into the filthier corners of the Victorian underworld, in both senses of the world, is a worthy successor to the penny dreadful style of Hammer House of Horror films, and alternative realities like The Difference Engine: it’s just a whole lot more unsavoury. Blood, guts, pus, and other suppurations are everywhere, and the level of crime is so base it would make Fagin’s hair curl. As well as Nathan’s jaundiced viewpoint, we also have segments from the POV of Vasilica and Vasile Ivanescu, the brother and sister itinerant vampire hunters driven by their Christian quest to rid the world of nosferatu one stake at a time, and more amusingly, a former infantryman, Solider, now a one-eyed, one-armed wreck using his military skills to survive.
It's a pacy read, to the point of being slightly overwhelming at times, and I would have appreciated a few more lulls to catch up with the action, and for a change in tone, and in particular more from the dryly witty voice of Soldier. I also was a bit distracted by some of the language: Alcala has clearly researched the time period well, and delivers a convincing Victorian London sunk into depravity and crime, but some of the words were slightly jarring. I am not sure that ‘b**ls**t’ was a swear word of that era, and there are inconsistent tenses and missing words which dragged me out of the action. A good proofreader or copy editor could have smoothed away some of these jarring moments.
In summary though, Alcala paints many vivid scenes and does justice to a roving cast of people with varying levels of mortal sin on their souls. It definitely kept me reading and engaged with the fate of his flawed hero, Nathan, the fallen police officer and possible vampire hunter.
I received a free copy of this book, in exchange for an honest review.