Stephen Aryan is an award winning fantasy author. He has written two trilogies, the Age of Darkness, and the Age of Dread, plus a prequel novella, set in the magic-infused world of Mordana.

He has also written the Quest for Heroes duology, The Coward and The Warrior, published by Angry Robot Books. His latest series, The Nightingale and the Falcon, is a Persian-inspired historical fantasy trilogy.

New York Minute by Stephen Aryan

A noir story, set in an alternate New York City. After years of being a cop, and now a private investigator, there's little that surprises Cole Blackstone. But when someone working for Karl Dolman, the most notorious crime boss in the city asks for his help, Cole is caught off guard, and more than a little afraid.

Dolman's daughter, Selina, has gone missing. To prevent a gang war that will tear the city apart, Cole must find her. But the job is being made more difficult as everyone is interfering, cops and criminals, and no one wants him to succeed.

Together with his childhood friend, Bracken Hart, the two men must navigate the depths of the city's underworld for answers. In a race against the clock, Cole needs to find out what happened to Selina, and who is responsible, before the streets run red.

CURATOR'S NOTE

The Hallows is incredibly original and inventive, it doesn't fit the usual parameters of fantasy tales. "Magical" abilities are generated by a chemical cocktail, called the Hallows serum. It enables those who are Auld Bloods (rather than human) to develop specific talents. Stouts are immensely strong, Dashers are really fast, Feathers can fly and so on. The story is told from the point of view of a character who is a Sixer – able to perceive all the senses in incredible detail. These qualities, are linked to a powerful being called the Auld God and require Faith. Enter the authority figures who police the Auld Bloods and their abilities. Who better to do this? Nuns. Gun toting, belligerent, combat ready nuns. See what I mean about inventiveness?

When a string of Auld Blood deaths appears to have been caused by a corrupted batch of Hallow, our hero, Cam, suspect all may not be as it seems. Bodies pile up. Someone is hiding something, and the consequences are becoming monstrous quite literally. This is a grimdark noir fantasy with touches of horror and a dash of dark humour. I cannot recommend it highly enough; I loved this story! – Simon Kewin

 

REVIEWS

  • "It's an expertly-crafted, fast paced gangster thriller, with the added intrigue of a world both strangely familiar and utterly different as a backdrop."

    – James Oswald, Sunday Times Bestselling Author of The Inspector McLean novels

  • "Gaslamp Noir Gangs of New York with swords, I loved it!"

    – Peter McLean

  • "I love fantasy noir and this was masterful."

    – Christian Cameron
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

Chapter 1

I'd barely been awake five minutes when someone started pounding on the front door. Someone with a heavy, impatient hand. Glancing at my watch, I realised that it was a little after seven in the morning.

"Just a second."

I pulled on some pants, picked up a dagger, and shuffled into the main room. I could see the shadow of someone walking back and forth past the window. With the blade hidden, I cracked open the door and peered out.

Sunlight stabbed my eyes, gold and white spots danced, and when they'd faded, I saw the face of my early morning caller.

"Do you know what time it is?" I asked, staring at the big bald bastard lurking outside. He had a face that looked as if it had regular appointments with a shovel. Nose splashed flat, piggy eyes hidden beneath a forehead shelf, thick lantern jaw decorated with orange fuzz suggesting Irish blood. He was also ripped with muscle, probably from steroids. It looked as if he'd been badly put together from spare parts, like Frankenstein's monster. He was definitely hired muscle. The pressing question was, whose?

He shrugged, uncaring about the hour. "Are you Cole Blackstone?"

"Yeah."

"Boss wants to see you about a job. Said it's urgent."

"Who's your boss?"

"Dolman."

Fuck.

That's a name everyone in New York knows. Karl Dolman is a ruthless son of a bitch who is probably responsible for most of the drugs floating around the city. His businesses cover the usual — smuggling, gambling, prostitution — but drugs are where he excels.

About ten years back, Dolman hired a bunch of clever chemists who cooked up all kinds of new and weird concoctions from the local flora and fauna. Eventually they found something that was highly addictive, hallucinogenic, but with a low mortality rate. They called it Sky. Apart from a small chance of death, Sky leaves addicts with a glowing high which made it the new must-have drug for the trendies and those with money. A short time later, it was available from every street corner, bar, night club and dark alley. Soon Dolman had so much money he was able to build an empire.

His competition has been trying to crack the recipe for years, and the police are desperate to get Sky off the streets, but no one's made much progress.

Dolman and his gang, the Dragons, are known for being bloodthirsty. Axes are their weapon of choice, and they seem to enjoy chopping off people's hands and feet. Anyone caught stealing, or trying to encroach on Dolman's territory, loses a hand or foot. A living, shambling reminder is a better deterrent than a dead body which is soon forgotten.

Being a private investigator is a tough job at the best of times. It's made worse in a city as big as New York, with so many people and their problems. Normally I'm a bit choosier about my clients but, on this occasion, I knew I couldn't refuse. If Dolman knew my name and where I lived, then he already had too much information about me. A polite 'no thanks' could cost me a hand. A 'fuck you' could get me killed.

"Can I have a minute to get dressed?" I asked, tucking the knife into the back of my pants.