Philip Palmer is the author of five science fiction novels published by Orbit Books: Debatable Space, Red Claw, Version 43, Hell Ship and Artemis. His other works include Hell on Earth, an epic police procedural with demons, and the horror novella Murder of the Heart. He is an experienced screenwriter and radio dramatist, and his previous audio drama work ranges from historical (The King's Coiner) to contemporary political (Breaking Point, Blame, Red and Blue) to epic literary fantasy (his adaptation of Spenser's The Faerie Queene). For TV he has written the single BBC1 film The Many Lives of Albert Walker, as well as TV series episodes of Rebus, Heartbeat and The Bill. His feature film credits include The Ballad of Billy McCrae (2021).

Hell on Earth by Philip Palmer

Ten years ago the sky turned black when millions of flying monsters from the Hell Dimension blocked the sun. That was the day when Hell came to Earth.

Now it's 2023. Warlocks keep the peace. And London is a nation state in which power is shared between human beings and creatures from the Hell Dimension.

And team of murder squad detectives led by DOUGIE RANDALL are on the trail of a malign serial killer in a story which takes you on a journey through the incense-scented demon-stalked streets of a terrifying alternate London.

CURATOR'S NOTE

I love Philip's out-there, gonzo science fiction and fantasy books, which are, as we say, balls-to-the-walls bonkers – in the best possible way! – Lavie Tidhar

 

REVIEWS

  • "At the end I felt that sense of loss that comes after you've spent time immersed in a really good read. Great characters & real tension in the story telling."

    – Amazon review

  • "A brilliant tale....More twists and turns than a corkscrew....A real edge of your seat tale. Gripping stuff. I highly recommend this novel to any fantasy lover, whether they are demon fans or not."

    – Amazon review

  • "As always a unique approach to a too often attempted genre. The magic-infused urban future. This one is character driven and awesomely plotted. Many twists and surprises. A really great story. "

    – Amazon review
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

'Bravo Tango receiving, is this a drill? Repeat, is this a drill? Over,' said Agatha Attwell, Metropolitan Police dispatcher at Leman Street station.

She knew it wasn't.

'No,' came the voice of Fillide Melandroni, over the Met Net channel. 'Trust me, this is really happening. Another Gate 'twixt Hell and Earth has been breached. Here, look.'

Agatha remembered her brother, who had died in the last but one Breach. And then had returned, alive but malign, three hours later.

Agatha tapped her keyboard and saw the image from the detective's e-berry camera: the awe-inspiring sight of an East End street drenched in blood.

'And can I have a grid reference for that, please? Over,' said Agatha crisply.

The windows and walls of the CAD office blew in.

There was a flash of intense light first - like a solar flare, slowly expanding. The light flare was followed by a slo-mo blast. It shattered the windows. Glass rippled, like seawater swamping sandcastles. To Agatha it felt as if time was standing still, cruelly prolonging the moment of her death. She calmly observed the walls of the office melting like butter on a sunny day. Then there was a low-pitched "boom" as the sound waves caught up with the explosion.

Agatha and the two other CAD operators were drenched by the hail storm of glass shards, and buffeted by blast waves.

The hail storm ended. She felt blood trickling down her face and on to her neck, and she raised her hands and saw that they were blood-drenched too. She tried to wipe the blood off her cheeks, with her blood-drenched fingers, and fought for composure.

'Bravo Seven, can you hold, please?' said Agatha into her mike.

'For the love of Lucifer!' snapped RDC Fillide Melandroni on the other end of the line.

Agatha got up from her desk, and slivers of broken glass slithered off her clothes. She took off her headset. She looked around and saw that Benjie had taken the full force of the blast. He and his desk had been picked up and thrown across the room. The glass wall was a gaping void and the one brick wall that hadn't collapsed was bizarrely distorted, like Gaudi's Cathedral. Agatha felt a wave of dizziness, but took a deep breath and walked carefully across the room. She walked past the water dispenser which was on its side and leaking, and over fragments of glass and brick that crunched underfoot. Benjie kept uttering a strange harsh coughing noise like a child with croup.

He was only twenty-seven, and Agatha had been like a mum to him, or so he'd once said. He was a capable lad, with a booming voice, and far too much energy for his own good. But he had a flair for the work, and Agatha had pleasantly envisaged him getting a job at New Scotland Yard and really making something of his life, one day.

Now he was sprawled upon a mountain of glass and desk splinters and his face was pale. Agatha kneeled beside him and took his neck pulse. This confirmed he was still alive; but she knew that anyway, because he was still making those horrible croupy noises. Then she realised that only his upper torso had made the journey across the room. Blood and viscera formed a sticky mess where his body ended.

'Hold my hand,' Agatha said calmly.

'I'm fine, help me up,' Benjie muttered.

'Hold my hand. Benjie, Benjie, believe this: no matter what you've heard, no matter what the papers and the television programmes say, there is a God.'

'What?'

'There is a God and He loves you and let us hope you somehow find His eternal grace at the end of this journey that you – you – you –' That was all Agatha could manage.

The shock of the massive bodily trauma finally kicked in. Benjie spasmed. He died.