One of the few positives about being Eric Carter is that you don't really, you know, need a resume. If you haven't yet run across Carter in previous books (what are you waiting for, seriously), he's a necromancer, an expert in death magic. Or that's what he started out to be. Over the course of the seven previous books, he has been the consort of an Aztec goddess, turned (mostly) to jade, been sent to the Aztec underworld, been murdered by a demon, and resurrected as (not to put too fine a point on it) a zombie.
In the previous installment of the series, Carter was asked to make a choice between embracing his humanity or holding on to his godhood; he made the choice to be human (or as human as he could be under his own peculiar circumstances). Author Stephen Blackmoore, in turn, has to figure out how to push Carter more to the human side. Not to make him more relatable--the thing about Eric Carter is that he isn't exactly relatable--but to center him in the here-and-now, to the extent that's where the books are set.
Blackmoore makes three choices, all of which lock together tightly enough to give them the impression of inevitability. First, Blackmoore moves Carter out of his native Los Angeles and sends him to Las Vegas, which is haunted not by the ancient Aztec gods but by the ghosts of the Rat Pack. Second, in sending Carter to Vegas, Blackmoore is also sending him back into his own past, in a Snake Plissken I-thought-you-were-dead sort of way. And then third, if you're going to have Eric Carter in Las Vegas with a rogue's gallery from his past, well, you're going to have a casino heist.
It's the decision to move Carter to Las Vegas that gives HATE MACHINE its energy, bringing along a new cast of characters while providing enough mayhem to keep the story moving along. It is the case that the heist part of the narrative is a bit underplayed--this isn't exactly OCEAN'S ELEVEN--but where the path of the novel looks at times like it's skidding, it's actually drifting and hitting every turn.
If you're not familiar with the Eric Carter novels--which are basically the West Coast version of the Harry Dresden novels, with fewer jokes and more Adderall--HATE MACHINE may not be the best place to start--there's simply too much back story to digest all at once. (I was behind and read BOTTLE DEMON and SUICIDE KINGS before this, just to catch up, and I'm glad I did.) Blackmoore does what he does as well as anyone, and in this installment he keeps the fireworks going until the end. Highly recommended.