By Jonathan L. Howard
Horst Cabal has risen from the lifeless. back. Horst, the main affable vampire one is ever prone to meet, is resurrected by means of an occult conspiracy that wishes him as a normal in a large military. Their plan: to create a rustic of horrors, a supernatural fatherland. As Horst sees the lengths to which they're ready to move and the evil they domesticate, he realizes that he can't struggle them by myself. What he rather wishes on his facet is a sarcastic, amoral, seriously armed necromancer.
As good fortune might have it, this precisely describes his brother.
Join the brothers Cabal as they fearlessly lie quietly in mattress, struggle dreadful monsters from past fact, make soup, consider just a little sorry for zombies, banter flippantly with mystery societies that desire to ruin them, and—in passing—set out to avoid wasting the world.*
*The writer needs to indicate that there aren't any zebras this time, so don't get your hopes up on that count number. there's, in spite of the fact that, a werebadger, if that's whatever that's been lacking out of your life.
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Additional info for The Brothers Cabal (Johannes Cabal, Book 4)
Sample text
We're all going to do it. " "Well said, Ann," Kezzy approved. " the skeleton cackled. " I patted her on the shoulder. Then she walked over, got down on her knees, and got to it. Hannah was already going a mile a minute, and her guy was making noises like a cowboy at a rodeo. Mole Face grinned and flexed his boner for me. Fuck. I just leaned over and started sucking. It was awful, pathetic, and ridiculous: three 19-year-old girls blowing really old men. Of course, my guy's crotch stunk, but by then I was cauterized to it.
But, you know, that's another thing you constantly notice when you're fat. The slim, beautiful people can stuff their faces all they want and never gain an ounce, but me? If I eat, like, one candy bar, I put on five fuckin' pounds before I'm even done eating the motherfucker. Anyway, here's how the deal went for the next four days. " The Old Manning on that second night was nothing compared to what Kezzy had in store for us, and she wasn't kidding when she said the rest would be "exponentially worse" than blowing those old turds at the American Legion.
I got the Great Dane. Mercy and Hannah kind of went into shock just looking at these dogs, but I set an example, I guess. It's a state of mind, I told myself. I just had to get into that state, and then I could do anything. No way in a million years would I have even thought about doing something like this a week ago. But now? The carrot Kezzy was dangling in front of me was my fuckin' inheritance. I was not going to throw in the towel now. doing it to the Great Dane. His name was George, by the way, and he was a big ass dog.