Victorian London

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Ink Will Have To Do

Freya Sacksen

London, 1888. It's July, stinking hot, and the city is crawling with things that can't be mentioned - vampires, werewolves, mummies, succubi, fae (dark horrid things - in the Islands they know, but the upper classmen here sniff and tell tall tales)...

...and now dead prostitutes.

For one reason or another, you're getting drawn into petty mortal disputes that, you're to find, are far less petty than they seem, and far beyond mortal than they have any right to be.

Monster of the Week
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