June is really starting to feel cold – so what better time is there to read a book to make you feel COZY!! You can choose whether you read a book to give you CHILLS – horror, murder, thriller or a COZY mystery – or even both if you want:) … Snuggle with a hot chocolate and your favourite COZY book and ENJOY the month of June!
And my pick is a MYSTERY to fit into the Winter Reading Challenge – 2014 – 10.a) Read a murder/suspense/thriller/mystery book, so this month I’ll start Ben Aaronovitch’s Peter Grant/Rivers of London series . (The first book was also sitting unloved and unread in my TBR list from a previous challenge.)
Ben Aaronovitch – Rivers of London (Peter Grant #1)
Probationary Constable Peter Grant dreams of being a detective in London’s Metropolitan Police. Too bad his superior wants to tuck him awat in the Case Progression Unit. Then Peter’s ability to speak with the lingering dead brings him to the attention of Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale, who investigates crimes involving magic and other manifestations of the uncanny.
Nightingale’s also a wizard–the last registered wizard in England. Suddenly Peter is plunged into a world where gods and goddeses mingle with mortals, and ancient evils long thought laid to rest are making a comeback on a rising tide of magic.
(Media: Audio Book, eBook)
Ben Aaronovitch – Moon Over Soho (Peter Grant, #2)
” My name is Peter Grant, and I’m a Detective Constable in that might army for justice known as the Metropolitan Police (a.k.a. The Filth). I’m also a trainee wizard, the first such apprentice in fifty years. ”
Something violently supernatural had happened, something strong enough to leave an imprint on the corpse of part-time jazz saxophonist Cyrus Wilkinson as if he were a wax cylinder recording. He’s not the first musician to drop dead of a heart attack right after a gig, but no one was going to let me start examining corpses to check for supernatural similarities. Instead, it was back to old-fashioned police legwork. It didn’t take me long to realise there were monsters stalking Soho, creatures feeding off the gift that separates great musicians from those who can raise a decent tune. What they take is beauty. What they left behind is broken lives.
And as I hunted them, my investigation got tangled up in another story: a brilliant trumpet player, Richard ‘Lord’ Grant – my father – who managed to destroy his own career. Twice.
Policing: most of the time you’re doing it to maintain public order. Occasionally you’re doing it for justice. And, maybe once in a career, you’re doing it for revenge.
❝ “Less of that, you cheeky bastard,” said Dad. “Still, I think I know what we might be looking for.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a rectangle of plastic and glass.
“You’ve got an iPhone,” I said.
“iPod touch actually,” he said. “It’s not a bad sound.” This from a man who ran a fifty-year-old Quad amp because it had valves rather than transistors. He passed me the earpieces and slid his finger around the screen like he’d been using a touch control all his life. “Listen to this,” he said.
There it was, digitally remastered but still with enough hiss and pop to keep the purists happy. “Body and Soul,” clear melody and just enough swing to make it danceable. If it wasn’t what I’d heard off the body then it was definitely played by the same band. ❞
― Ben Aaronovitch, Moon over Soho
Ben Aaronovitch – Whispers Under Ground (Peter Grant, #3)
” It begins with a dead body at the far end of Baker Street tube station, all that remains of American exchange student James Gallagher—and the victim’s wealthy, politically powerful family is understandably eager to get to the bottom of the gruesome murder. The trouble is, the bottom—if it exists at all—is deeper and more unnatural than anyone suspects . . . except, that is, for London constable and sorcerer’s apprentice Peter Grant. With Inspector Nightingale, the last registered wizard in England, tied up in the hunt for the rogue magician known as “the Faceless Man,” it’s up to Peter to plumb the haunted depths of the oldest, largest, and—as of now—deadliest subway system in the world.
At least he won’t be alone. No, the FBI has sent over a crack agent to help. She’s young, ambitious, beautiful . . . and a born-again Christian apt to view any magic as the work of the devil. Oh yeah—that’s going to go well
❝ Actually I’d always thought he sat in the library with a slim volume of metaphysical poetry until the commissioner called him on the bat phone and summoned him into action. Holy paranormal activity, Nightingale – to the Jag mobile. ❞
― Ben Aaronovitch, Whispers Under Ground
❝ IF YOU CAN READ THIS YOU ARE A NERD AND ALSO PROBABLY DEAD ❞
― Ben Aaronovitch, Whispers Under Ground
Ben Aaronovitch – Broken Homes (Peter Grant, #4)
Truth be told, there’s a lot I still don’t know. My superior Nightingale, previously the last of England’s wizardly governmental force, is trying to teach me proper schooling for a magician’s apprentice. But even he doesn’t have all the answers. Mostly I’m just a constable sworn to enforce the Queen’s Peace, with the occasional help from some unusual friends and a well-placed fire blast. With the new year, I have three main objectives, a) pass the detective exam so I can officially become a DC, b) work out what the hell my relationship with Lesley Mai, an old friend from the force and now fellow apprentice, is supposed to be, and most importantly, c) get through the year without destroying a major landmark.
Two out of three isn’t bad, right?
A mutilated body in Crawley means another murderer is on the loose. The prime suspect is one Robert Weil, who may either be a common serial killer or an associate of the twisted magician known as the Faceless Man — a man whose previous encounters I’ve barely survived. I’ve also got a case about a town planner going under a tube train and another about a stolen grimoire.
But then I get word of something very odd happening in Elephant and Castle, on a housing estate designed by a nutter, built by charlatans, and inhabited by the truly desperate. If there’s a connection to the Crawley case, I’ll be entering some tricky waters of jurisdiction with the local river spirits. We have a prickly history, to say the least.
Just the typical day for a magician constable.
❝ I wondered what would happen if I just yanked all the detonators out at once. Then I noticed a yellow post-it note that had fallen to the floor below the box. I picked it up and read, This device has been fitted with counter measures. Please do not tamper, as being blown up often offends ❞
― Ben Aaronovitch, Broken Homes