"An addictive blend of magic and murder noir." -Gareth L. Powell, BSFA award-winning author of Ack-Ack Macaque
Agent "Sully" Sullivan is one of the top cops in the Imperial Bureau of Investigation. A veteran witch of the British Empire who isn’t afraid to use her magical skills to crack a case. But Sully might need more than a good education and raw power to stop the string of grisly murders that have been springing up across the American Colonies. Every one of them marked by the same chilling calling card, a warning in the form of a legion of voices screaming out through the killers' mouths: "It IS tHe YEAr oF the KNife."
Sully’s investigation will drag her away from the comforts of home in New Amsterdam, the beautiful but useless hyacinth macaw that used to be her boss, and the loving arms of her undead girlfriend, in a thrilling race against time, demonic forces and a shadowy conspiracy that will do anything to keep its hold on power and ensure that Sully takes their secrets to her grave, as soon as possible.
G.D. Penman’s imaginativeThe Year of the Knifeis a fun, fast-paced urban fantasy mystery with an engaging set of characters, most notably Agent Sully of the Imperial Bureau of Investigation.
|Publisher:||Meerkat Press, LLC|
|Product dimensions:||6.00(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.60(d)|
About the Author
G.D. Penman writes fantasy fiction. He lives in Scotland with his partner and children, some of whom are human. By day he is a writer for hire, by night he stares at the ceiling and makes up stories. He is a firm believer in the axiom that any story is made better by dragons. His beard has won an award. He is a time traveller, but only forward, and only slowly. Once upon a time he was the editor of Forgotten Worlds Magazine and Amphetamine Press. His short fiction can be found in Phantasmacore and Three Lobed Burning Eye. His literary criticism can be found online at BookWitty. If you have ever read a story with queer people and Kaiju, it was probably his.
Read an Excerpt
Sully had heard demons speak before. They rarely had anything smart to say, being more interested in screeching elaborate threats, but when they did speak, they generally sounded like a squid gargling rocks. The voice from around the corner didn't sound like a demon's. It sounded like a chorus of screaming voices all trying to squeeze through one mouth. “WE cAN SMELL YoU litTLE WITcH.” There was a staggering footstep. “COMe out anD PLAy.”
Whatever this was, Sully had never come across it before. She took a steadying breath and then stepped around the corner. It was a man, presumably Mr Underwood. His clothes hung loosely on his body, everything slightly out of place. His thinning hair had fallen out of its greasy comb-over and was dangling off the side of his lolling head. He moved in a series of twitchesthe overall impression was of a broken toy. He had one of the kitchen knives in his hands, a big steely one that was already stained with blood. The door behind him was covered in wild slashes but he had not managed to break through. Sully took a deep breath, and his head jerked around to follow the sound. His eyes didn't appear to lock onto her but his mouth flapped open and that noise came again. “TELL yoUR MASters. TELL them thaT WE aRE COMING BacK.”
Sully leveled her sword at him and hoarsely whispered, “Drop the weapon.”
Mr. Underwood’s head rolled on his shoulders, and his face twisted into an almost comical rictus, like he was noticing the bloody knife in his hand for the first time. There was a sound like the wind rustling leaves that Sully slowly realized was meant to be a laugh. He took one staggering step forward, arms dangling limp at his sides. That was all of the provocation that Sully needed. She darted forward and thrust the sword right into his chestclose to the heart, if not straight through it. She felt the blade glance off of a rib and then lodge solidly in one of the bones in his back. When she couldn't tug it free, and he wasn't falling, she leapt back, freeing her hands in case she needed them.
He looked down at the sword sticking out of his chest with signs of amusement, then took another dragging step towards her and hissed, “It IS tHE YEAR oF the KNIfe.”
Then he collapsed. He wasn't bleeding properly yetit was pooling under him but it wasn't gushing out the way that it should be. Sully shuddered and then let all of her spells unwind before they knocked her out. She shouted at the closed door, “You can come outhe’s dead.”
What People are Saying About This
“Penman writes with the wit and charm of a foul-mouthed Terry Pratchett. His Agent Sully is what Dirty Harry would be if he was a lesbian witch fighting demons alongside the cast of Yes, Minister. She can be my date to the Imperial Bureau of Investigation Ball anytime.”
“An addictive blend of magic and murder noir.”