Los Angeles, 1949. The smog burns your eyes. The vampires own the night. And Jack Mitchell just ran out of bourbon. “Sympathetic but unsentimental... a sharp-edged urban fantasy.” — Publishers Weekly Jack Mitchell is a private eye hanging on by a thread in a city that always stays awake—mostly because half the population is undead. He’s a combat vet who knows that in L.A., the color of your skin does not really matter, but the temperature of your blood can matter a whole lot. Jack’s business model is simple: he solves problems for people who can’t go to the cops. But when Dora Urban walks into his office, the rules change. Dora is stunning, wealthy, and aristocratic. She’s also a vampire who hasn’t breathed in centuries. She wants Jack to find her missing half-brother, Rudolf, paying in heavy gold coins for his troubles. It sounds like a standard missing persons case, until Jack starts kicking over rocks. What crawls out isn't just a missing vampire. It's a nightmarish mystery that goes from the gutters of Vampire Village to the boardrooms of US Rubber: * The Drug: A strange substance called "vepratoga" that the undead are desperate to find. * The Labor: A factory guarded by Assyrian gods where the workers aren't just tired—they're legally dead zombies. * The Law: A police force so corrupt they charge extra for protection against sorcery. Jack Mitchell is about to find out that in a city of ghosts, ghouls, and grifters, the scariest monster is still the one signing the paychecks. From New York Times Bestselling Author Harry Turtledove comes a hard-boiled noir where the shadows bite back.
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