My name is Peter Grant and until January I was just another probationary constable in that mighty army for justice known to all right-thinking people as the Metropolitan Police Service, and as the Filth to everybody else. My only concerns in life were how to avoid a transfer to the Case Progression Unit-'we do paperwork so real coppers don't have to'- and finding a way to climb into the uniform panties of the outrageously perky WPC Leslie May. Then one night, in pursuance of a murder inquiry, I tried to take a witness statement from a man who was already dead, but still disturbingly voluble, and that brought me to the attention of one Inspector Nightingale, the last wizard in England. And that, as they say, is where the story really starts. Now I'm a Detective Constable and a trainee wizard, the first such apprentice in fifty years, and my world has become somewhat more complicated than it was. I'm dealing with nests of vampires in Purley, negotiating a truce between the warring god and goddess of the Thames, and digging up graves in Covent Garden - and that's just the routine bit of the job. There's something festering at the heart of the city I love, a malicious vengeful spirit that takes ordinary Londoners and twists them into grotesque mannequins to act out its drama of violence and despair. The spirit of riot and rebellion has awakened in the city, and it's falling to me to bring order out of chaos - or die trying. Which, I don't mind telling you, would involve a lot of paperwork.

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