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

by Jonathan L. Howard

You, at least, are in the happy position of not being in any personal peril during this tale, despite my suggestion to the publisher that one in a thousand copies should be impregnated with dimethylmercury just to give a frisson to book purchasing. ‘You can’t just go around killing readers,’ they said.

There had been the business with the exploding carnival, the giant ape, the demons, and so forth. It had even made the front page of the Penlow Reporter; FUSS CAUSED, screamed the headline on the story. THREE NOISE COMPLAINTS RECEIVED.

Cabal tried to avoid being amongst the unwary; it was a demographic with a poor life expectancy.

The behemoth looked at him as if he were an idiot, which, coming from something that looked not quite as intellectual as a side of beef in a helmet, felt understandably insulting.

It was sad, but you can’t make an omelette without damning a few souls to everlasting torment. It was a fact of life.

‘Deferred gratification. I’ve heard about that. So this is what it feels like. Hmmmm.’ She considered this new sensation. ‘It’s slightly irritating.’