A reclusive scholar. A private detective. And a book of spells that could destroy the world.
Historical fantasy novel, set in the Victorian (?) era, me thinks. Horror with monsters made from resurrected corpses. Lovecraftian influences. Potential theft of an Egyptian mummy. Magic.
Several times I stumbled over the fact that this is set in New England. I kept waiting for London fog to creep up or for the characters visiting the British Museum.
Potential romance between the two male main characters — after 80 pages nothing much had happened in that direction, besides some angsty musings of the narrator, having to will down his misbehaving member.
I was bored, this story didn‘t work for me. I skimmed through the last two chapter and called it a day. I had hoped for another K. J. Charles. Sadly not.