The Fall of the House of Cabal (Johannes Cabal, #5)

by Jonathan L. Howard

And so, we are up to date. If you have read the previous novels, I hope that has successfully refreshed your memory. If you have not, and have just lurched in here like a drunk into a cinema half an hour after the programme began, sit down and shut up. You are disturbing the patrons.

‘You may,’ she said without a hint of irony, ‘be wondering why I have called you here tonight.’ Horst was suddenly filled with great admiration for Miss Barrow, and a desire for popcorn.

Selfishness is the real root of all evil, but I thought we would see it grown here into extraordinary forms. Instead we have poverty and beggary while the powerful live up in the grand house and ignore it, as do their lickspittles. This is no more Hell than is London.

He noted it did not seem to have a handrail, another of Hell’s grotesque Health & Safety failings.

Feeling more British than he had ever done before in his life—after all, what could be more British than leading a shock force of vampires on a raid into the ruins of Buckingham Palace, short of doing the same but wearing bowler hats?—Horst led the charge.