Jacob Marlowe is a two hundred year old werewolf with a midlife crisis: he is the last of his kind and has lost the will to live. As he prepares to take the silver bullet, events bring about a change of heart. There is gore (and sex) aplenty but surprisingly, this hybrid of horror and highbrow also reflects on the big questions. A fun, thoughtful and thrilling read which is definitely not for the fainthearted.
In my dreams a small wolf slept inside me and it wasn't comfortable. It moved its heels and elbows and paws, struggled to make space between my lungs, stomach, bladder. Occasionally a scrabbling claw punctured something and I woke. What were you dreaming? Arabella wanted to know. I knew what it was dreaming. It was dreaming of being born. The form and scale of its occupancy shifted. Sometimes its legs were in my legs, its head in my head, its paws in my hands. Other times it was barely the size of a kitten, heartburn hot and fidgety under my sternum. I'd wake and for a moment feel my face changed, reach up to touch the muzzle that wasn't there.