Beneath a Black Moon

God and the Moon, but Mab has had better evenings. First, she’s booed off the stage at the Magnus (despite a perfectly suitable turn as Lady Marmalade) and chased up Mulberry Street only to have her poor throat slashed by an ex-lover’s razor. From there she’s off to Hell, wallowing amid mud and sinners. How can a hard-luck actress’ evening get any worse?

Well, she could get dragged back in some guy's corpse and given one week to solve a depraved murder in a haunted city full of depraved murderers. That might be worse.

Still, the company is tolerable—cannibal witch packs, British spies and fanatical Confessors, not to mention the mathematical soothsayer that may or may not be Mab’s estranged sister. And the job is plenty interesting, what with the Better Tomorrow Society trying to destroy the world and all.

Anywhere else—anyone else—and we might just stay in Hell. But this is Mab and Manhattan, beneath the Black Moon.

So let’s hit the houselights, cue the curtains and mind the storm drains.

And, please, whatever you do ... don’t look up.