The Darkening Dark of Darkness Dark

THE SUN HAS NOT RISEN FOR 400 YEARS.

IT IS, TECHNICALLY, A CONTRACTUAL DISPUTE.

In the village of Gloamwick-Under-Nothing, it is always noon on your watch and midnight everywhere else. The villagers light candles, eat turnips, and shout "Morning!" at the sky out of habit. Above them, something very large has opened a file.

Enter Rupert Ashgrove-Vane, LLB (Hons): solicitor, conveyancer, and a man with fangs. He is not a vampire. He simply has fangs. This is never explained.

Sent for two days of probate, armed only with a briefcase, a pork pie and a copy of Wilkinson on Probate (11th ed.), Rupert must fight a 713-page contract that rewrites itself at night, a raven who demands a signature, and Agatha Stoat, Hell's most elegant litigator, who is six hundred and eleven years old and bills for the coach.

He has until Hallowe'en. The Devil wants what he is owed. And the dawn is not coming on its own.

Part gothic horror. Part courtroom drama. Part very long argument about a pint.

"I wrote this book in the dark, because the dark was where it happened."

LEE EMERICK, Master of Dark Literature, Dark Master of Literature

Book Three of The Emerick Codex of Forbidden Terror

Not suitable for the faint-hearted, the sun-dependent, or anyone who has ever signed anything without reading it.